Published: 3 Oct 2019
“You’re quiet?” Ian observed during the morning tea break, one eye on the lunchroom clock the other on Stan Cook loitering at distance.
Lewis lightly scratched his head, allowing his long dark brown hair to run through his fingers, then after stirring one more teaspoon of sugar into his tea cup lifted his head and smiled.“How was the weekend in Townsville?” he asked as if there was nothing more than vacancy on his mind.
What Lewis wished to ask, had Ashley spoken of his visit and had Ian also been introduced to the man’s super-eight film collection. Surely Ashley would have at least tried it on but Ian was more confident and upfront than Lewis and no would mean just that.
“Townsville was fine; you should come down with me one weekend.” Ian offered and nodded to the clock, “better finish your tea old Cookie is on the move and coming this way.”
“Who did you go with?”
“My cousin from Yungaburra, he has a car but some long weekend you and I could take the train.”
Lewis gulped the last of his tea, “I may do so but it is difficult for both of us to have a full weekend at the same time.”
“True but I reckon Cookie owes me one, I think I can swing it.”
“How’s Ashley?” Lewis asked, ‘bugger,’ he thought, ‘why did I ask that?’
“Why?”
“Dunno’, just asked, I’m not really all that interested,” Lewis quickly corrected.
“He’s the same I guess, you know John.”
‘Yes I do so and maybe a little more than I wish,’ Lewis thought as he followed Ian from the lunchroom, while his eyes fell unconsciously on his friend’s rear and the fashion of his jeans as the material divided two moulds of muscle with a well defined valley between.
A week had passed and still Ian hadn’t shown knowledge of Lewis’ indiscretion, nor had Lewis visited Ian at Ashley’s. This he knew would soon create deliberation and reason why. Eventually he would have to visit Ashley’s house and to the best of his ability pretend that nothing had happened and while there he would need to keep his distance from the man, refusing all offers of alcohol, especially offers to preview any newly arrived Swedish film.
Twice that week Ian had asked Lewis to visit and twice Lewis had found excuse. Now as Saturday morning’s shift concluded and after a third invitation he nervously agreed. “I’ll be there around seven,” he acceded without conviction.
“What’s wrong with you mate?” Ian asked, leaving Lewis no option but to agree to the visit.
“Nothing, I’ll see you at seven okay?”
“Right then and maybe go for a drink.”
That afternoon Lewis’ concern drove Lewis to his diary.
Saturday – 17thJune 1967I am invited around to see Ian tonight but don’t want to go, not after the episode with Ashley. Well I suppose I don’t have much choice, besides Ashley wouldn’t attempt anything while Ian was home. I wonder if he tries it on with Ian. Still he does have some interesting films. Unfortunately they come at a price.
It was as dark as a Mareeba night could be when Lewis arrived at Ashley’s and the distant street light didn’t illuminate the walk way beside the house leading towards Ian’s bungalow. Carefully Lewis managed the obstacle course of pot-plants and garden equipment that Ashley had gathered in that area until he tangled himself in a coil of garden hose, creating a clatter of tools as he fell against the side of the house with a dull thud, sending a number of gardening implements to tumble and bringing Ashley’s face to appear at the window then as quickly he was gone. “Why am I being so secretive?” Lewis mumbled as he straightened his poise, continuing towards Ian’s bungalow.
Ashley met him at the back door, “why didn’t you knock at the front?”
“I didn’t wish to disturb you.”
“You made enough noise to wake the dead, it’s a wonder you didn’t break a leg or something with all the junk along there.”
“Sorry.”
“No matter, Ian’s inside having his shower; come in.” Ashley invited holding the wire door wide to allow passage. Lewis nervously obliged and without eye contact entered, being sure to be beyond arm’s reach at all times.
“He’ll be out in a mo’,’” Ashley declared still somewhat puzzled why Lewis had skirted the house. “Would you like a beer?” he offered, making his way to the refrigerator.
“Ah – no thanks,” Lewis nervously declined, not wanting to put himself in the same position as their last encounter.
“You appear a little stressed Lewis?”
“Not at all.”
“Sure you wouldn’t like a beer, it may calm those nerves.”
“I’m not worried about anything, why do you suggest so?” Lewis questioned while attempting to keep his tone in humour.
Ashley removed two from the many and placed them on the table. “For Ian,” he said nodding at the second bottle, “are you sure you wouldn’t like one?” he again offered. Lewis shook his head, his eyes cast to the ageing linoleum which ran in worn pattern from the kitchen all the way down to the front door and back to the rear. His heart had contracted an anxious race and his legs the urge to follow that lino and be gone.
The Stallions of flight were galloping through Lewis’ mind as Ian entered the room wearing only a towel wrapped loosely around his midriff. “You made it then?” Ian smiled and removed the towel to dry his hair. For a moment Lewis’ panicked but to his relief Ian was clad in underpants.
“What’s wrong; you appear as wound as a clock spring,” Ian suggested.
“That was my opinion,” Ashley concurred.
“Nothing.”
“There’s a beer on the table,” Ashley offered to Ian.
“Want one?” Ian asked Lewis.
“If you’re having one.”
“I offered but he refused,” Ashley defended and collected an extra bottle, passing it to Lewis, “I guess it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind – the opener is on the table.”
“Very funny,” Lewis complained.
In Lewis’ reasoning, if Ian had stripped naked in the presence of Ashley, it could mean Ashley had also molested him and that was one deed Lewis could not admit to. The fact he had performed hand relief on his friend did not indicate homosexuality, only an act of mateship in a time of need. That Ashley had taken advantage of Lewis was a different matter and one he was not ready to admit to anything but a loose moment in time and of course the oldest excuse there was, being the influence of alcohol.
Lewis’ sexual confusion was buried deep down in his moral fibre and in the most without substance. Although he believed in his conclusions, the bulge within his friend’s underwear drew his gaze like a magnet and held with embarrassing fixation. Ian acknowledged his gaze and gave a secret wink, which only increased Lewis’ embarrassment, reflecting his stare back to the lino and the hallway to where it ran.
“Right you two I’ve tomorrow’s programme to prepare, off you go.”
“Music for oldies,” Ian grinned his usual quip towards Ashley’s choice of music.
“Cheeky bugger, what do you think young Lewis?”
“I don’t know much about music,” Lewis admitted not wishing to become familiar with the conversation.
“He’s as bad as you John with his country, all about loosing love or the dog dying.”
“I don’t mind a little country music, in fact I’m thinking of making “Saturday night country night.” Ashley admitted.
“I like the Beatles,” Lewis quickly distracted.
“Too British for my taste, I prefer the Easybeats,” Ian reflected and led the way out to his bungalow.
“And where do the Easybeats come from?” Lewis asked as they travelled.
“Sydney.”
“True, they formed as a band in Sydney at a migrant hostel but I think you will find they are Scottish, English and Dutch, not one is Aussie born.”
“Maybe so but they reckon they are Australian and sing like us,” Ian turned and with a deep grin pocked Lewis in the chest, “when I say they sing like us, I don’t mean you, I’ve heard your rendition of I’m a Looser, and with that voice you sure are.”
“Ya’ cheeky bugger,” Lewis pushed his friend towards the bungalow door.
Conversation between the friends usually circulated around girls, tits and the lack of sexual activity. This night was no different, except for the obvious over compensation by Lewis to disguise his darkening character and what had occurred during his last visit to Ashley. This embroidery was obvious to Ian, bringing him to question his friend.
“Hey Lewis you sure are pushing the tits tonight!” Ian stated with a smile, “you must be frustrated for a bit eh?” he concluded.
Lewis didn’t answer and realising his folly, laughed, changing the topic to Ian’s weekend away. The shift in focus was successful and moved Ian from the darkness lurking deep within Lewis’ though, his guilt and an increasing desire to crawl inside the very skin of his friend, to cuddle there in the warmth and security.
Ian lay sprawled belly down across his bed, his attention controlled by the latest car magazine he had that afternoon purchased from Brown’s news agency. Slowly he described the mechanics of the latest Holden, with Lewis positioned at arms length behind, while each of the vehicle’s benefits entered his willing ears but died there.
Lewis’ mind was disconnected from the audio world and adhered to the physical attraction of Ian’s well proportioned rear protected by the thin layer of white curve hugging underwear, which flexed and released each time Ian moved his body to improve comfort, or to turn the page of the magazine.
Through a silent moment came a knock to the door and Ashley entered without invitation. “I’m off, do you need anything?”
“No thanks,” Ian answered.
“You two behave yourselves.”
“Yea sure thing,” Ian answered mockingly and returned to his magazine.
From the litany of facts came a pause and without turning Ian asked; “do you think Liz fancies me?” He spoke as if Lewis wasn’t there and had directed the question of the pages of the magazine. He turned the page and answered his own question. “Probably not, she seems more interested in older blokes,” he sighed into the newly turned page.
Lewis didn’t reply being much involved in the peaks and troughs of movement lying under the thin material of Ian’s underwear.
“You still there or have you gone home?” Ian enquired and turned another page and then another.”
Lewis chuckled, “I was more interested in something else.”
“What would that be?” Ian asked
“It’s gone now and doesn’t matter,” Lewis said realising he had almost declared his most dark thought and in the guise of humour.
Possibly doing so was a way to approach his dilemma. Who could resist humour and one’s desire could be as funny as any comedy. Then it was gone and the grey wet cloud of guilt returned taking funny and humour with it. He was once again solemn.
“You are becoming a right wet blanket!” Ian growled, displaying an uncharacteristic degree of anger as he took a deep breath, sending more clenching to his buttocks. He repeated his question. “As I said, do you think Liz fancies me!?”
“I couldn’t say, she always taking about boys but hasn’t mentioned your name.” Lewis paused; “maybe,” he concluded as Ian turned suddenly from his magazine, breaking into a cheeky smile, “she has wonderful tits!”
As he turned his excitement was most apparent and the proud erected head of his member broke free from the elastic band of his underwear to greet the eyes of Lewis. “Oops!” Ian laughed and rolled back onto his stomach.
“Don’t panic, I’ve seen it before,” Lewis said and pushed Ian’s rear forcefully into the bed.
“Don’t do that or I’ll have an accident!” Ian growled, while his body seemed to become rigid. Lewis repeated his action in anticipation.
“Stop it!” Ian growled from behind clenched teeth.
“Have we had an accident yet?” Lewis teased after more pushing.
“No!” Ian answered.
“I don’t believe you.” Lewis rifled back and gave one last shove to the alabaster buttocks beneath the thin layer of cotton. Ian quickly rolled to his back still supporting a strong erection but lacking any evidence of eruption.
“Satisfied!” he hissed displaying dry white cotton, and sending a shudder of need through the body of Lewis, a surging current powering from head to throat, to the pit of his stomach’ to gather in the crotch of his restrictive jeans. He didn’t answer, nor could he detach his gaze from the power beneath the thin vale of cotton.
“Well?” Ian said leaning his head to one side and showing anticipation.
“Well what?” Lewis asked.
Then after a pause, Ian nodded eagerly towards his erection then continued. “Well what are you going to do about it?”
Friday – 21st. July 1967.Got my driving licence yesterday and bought a car today. It’s a second hand white Consul Cortina it is iridescent blue with a darker stripe along each side. The salesman said it was a racing stripe but that was only his sales ploy. Now I’ll be able to drive Ian home to Townsville for weekends. Ian is still interested in Liz but I don’t know why, as she doesn’t seem interested in him. Maybe that is the reason, wanting something that is beyond your reach. Then again whenever the three of us are out together, she does watch him a lot and appears somewhat peeved with my presence.
“What are you up to Lewis?” Asked Liz from his open bedroom doorway distracting him from what he had been writing in the old school exercise book wearing the title of chemistry that was his diary. Lewis quickly closed the book and placed it aside.
“I was just adding up my finances,” He lied and sat himself between Liz and his diary, preventing visual access.
Liz had an inquisitive dispensation and only believed in her own privacy. It was common place for her to snatch at a letter and read it without permission, so if she knew he kept a diary not only would she try to read it, she would search for it when Lewis wasn’t about.
“You are always writing in that book, you must have a lot of finance to manage?” she suggested.
“Not always.”
“Often enough,” Now it was dangerous territory, Liz’s inquisitive nature had been lubricated and it became necessary to distract her before permanent interest infused her feminine curiosity.
“With the new car and all, just making sure I can afford things,” he replied, making the ordeal of finance sound as banal as possible. “Has Ian asked you out again?” he diverted. It worked and Liz’s distraction was complete.
“Yes but I’m not going. He’s too young and I don’t go out with children.” She added without conviction bringing a glimmer of relief to Lewis.
“I’ll tell him that.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“If you don’t want to go out with him why would it matter?”
“Cos’.”
“Anyway it’s only a few months!” Lewis affirmed without wanting to be convincing and set his cousin’s mind towards his friend.
“Three is a few not seven?” Liz answered, “by the way can I borrow your car?” she asked in a more friendly tone.
“Borrow why?” asked Lewis from the inside a magazine he had collected from the end of his bed, “besides you only have your learner’s,” he wisely advised, “so how can you borrow it?”
“I’m going for my full licence next week.”
“Anyway why do you need the car?”
“By borrow I meant would you drive me – it doesn’t matter,” Liz sighed as she departed from the doorway, her shoes echoing along the polished wooden boards of the hall.
With the sound of Liz’s footsteps growing faint, Lewis quickly buried his diary in its hiding place within the box of old school books, surely Liz wouldn’t think of looking for it there.
As the last exercise books hid the diary from sight he questioned if he should give up on his entries, only commencing notation when he travelled to Melbourne and continued from there.
“Lewis, would you drive me up to Atherton?” the question came from the open doorway, cutting through the silence like an arrow to his subconscious. Liz had silently returned with stealth and was once again intruding upon his solitude.
“Shit Liz you scared the hell out of me. Don’t sneak up on people like that!” Lewis growled, as he jumped from his box of books to face his cousin, his heart racing. Had she seen him hide the diary, he didn’t believe so as he had placed the book as her footsteps were fading along the hall.
“I didn’t sneak and if you are so concerned then close the door!” she advised. “Will you drive me up to Atherton?”
“I thought there was some reason for your wanting to borrow the car.”
“Then will you?”
“When?” asked Lewis in a slow and calculating voice.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Why?” Lewis returned, dragging the W slowly through to the Y.
Liz became coy and giggled like a school girl. She had been seeing the barman from the Royal Hotel who, although as rough as a bullock driver, had a sense of humour suiting her temperament. She declared it was this humour that lay waste her interests but Lewis wondered if it wasn’t what lay in abundance beneath the zip of his jeans that ransomed Liz’s affections, while it was rumoured, he offered it to any female who was willing. His name was even whispered among the women of the native camp and was said Billy McKee had no shame while wearing such innuendoes as a soldier would his war medals.
“Billy has gone up to Atherton for the weekend, and is staying with an uncle and I want to surprise him.” Liz answered, as she nervously examined her finger nails.
“Billy is a strange name for a bull of a bugger like McKee.”
“I think it’s cute,” Liz answered.
“Cute?”
“More interesting, besides there isn’t anything in it all and we are only friends.” Liz assured.
Lewis shook his head, “You should watch that bloke he’s bad news,” he sighed and continued, “he has a reputation and it’s not good.”
“I know but I find him funny and he treats me fine,” Liz assured.
“I’ve heard,” Lewis slowly commenced then withdrew from the statement. Self censorship wasn’t his forte but he realised that Liz wasn’t in the mood to accept his wisdom, all be it mostly second hand at best.
“What have you heard?” Questioned Liz her words pinched and armed with menace.
“Nothing really – its probably just jealousy,” Lewis concluded softly as he recalled a late night and a short cut he took through the Royal Hotel’s ample rear yard. His passage was disturbed by the sound of what appeared to be some wild animal towards the back wall of the Hotel and as he came near he discovered Billy during his work break, his trousers descended and his white arse pumping into the shadows.
At first it appeared somewhat comical as if he were pumping into darkness, then he saw the flash of white teeth and eyes, she was so dark she dissolved into the night.
“Hey white boy – you want a fuck too?” came from the flash of white beyond Billy’s grunting, he momentarily withheld his piston motion to face Lewis, “Fuck off Smith or I’ll do you next.” he growled while recommencing his thrusts.
Lewis quickly backtracked to the footpath and took the long way round to Byrnes Street behind the hotel. The following day he chanced to pass Billy in the street but nothing was said, yet Billy did exchange a grin that could be considered pleasing or harrowing, depending on one’s point of view and with his knowledge of McKee it reflected the latter.
Lewis returned from his recollection, “as I said they are only rumours and your Billy is probably a saint.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Liz answered with a secret grin.“So you will drive me up to Atherton?’
“Who’s paying for petrol?” Lewis asked.
“I’ll fill your silly little tank,” Liz agreed.
“What’s in it for me, I’ll have to wait around town until you’re ready to leave.”
“No I’ll catch the afternoon motor back.”
“I guess so but my warning still stands.”
“I don’t like gossip.”
“You don’t like gossip, yet you are always gossiping about others.” Lewis protested.
“That’s different besides there isn’t anything hurting in it.”
“Yes I’ll take you but my warning stands, gossip or not, it’s up to you if you take notice.”
Gary’s stories are all about what life in Australia was like for a homosexual man (mostly, long before we used the term, “gay”). Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net
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