Hi. Just one warning: this story's pretty slow-paced. That's all.
Thursday I decide to go for a run with the Orienteering Soc. I walk over to the gym and wander around trying to figure out how it works. Fortunately I soon see Jack who works there and who told me about the running group, and make my way over to him.
"So you finally decided to get fit?" he says, looking me up and down.
He's definitely fit. The running shorts don't leave me in any doubt about that. Actually, I feel a bit self-conscious that I don't cut as fit a figure.
"Hey man, I was just kidding." He hits me on the arm, then snatches his hand back in mock pain. "Ouch. Like wood." He smiles.
At the beginning of the run we chat a bit, but I have to give up shortly. I'm slower than him, even though he slows up for me. I can't even think about maths problems, I'm pushing myself that much harder than usual. All I have are random scenes of the past week flashing through my head: in the lecture theatre with Micah, graph theory, Micah at lunch, work, the phone conversation. And then I get carried away on a tide of adrenalin.
On Friday Micah suggests we go back to his place so he can get changed, then go to my place, and then go out. It doesn't seem like the most efficient way, but I'm happy -- more than happy, really -- to do it that way; I guess it means he likes spending time with me too.
"So are we going somewhere to eat first?" he asks.
"We all usually just eat at home and then meet up later."
"Oh." I think I've thrown a mini spanner into the works of his plan.
"I was going to make dinner for myself anyway, so you could come and have some as well. Then we could go straight from my place."
"You can cook?"
"Yeah, I cooked for my mum and myself for a long time."
"OK, sounds great." I think he's a bit more dubious than the words sound.
Five pm rolls around, the time we've decided to leave, and we go to his car. It's a BMW. Ah, well. Not his fault. It's nice to get a ride.
He's a bit of a revhead: the car's obviously pretty fun to drive. So it's not too long -- and much less than the three hour cycle ride -- before we get to his place.
This time his mother's home, and I get introduced. "Hi Mrs Calwell."
"Hello." She smiles. She's really beautiful for someone who has to be at least forty, and even for someone ten years younger. There must be something to this genetics thing. I'd noticed similarities within other families even before I knew what happened with me, thought it was unusual that it happened so often because my idea of normal was my own situation -- I wonder now how I didn't guess -- but I'm still struck by seeing it in other people.
"OK, I'm going to get changed."
"Would you like a drink?" his mother asks me simultaneously.
"Sure, that'd be nice."
"Come on through to the kitchen."
I follow meekly, while Micah smiles at me and goes off to his room.
In the kitchen, I choose water again. "So you're the one taking Micah to disreputable inner-city locations." What's he said? She laughs; I obviously look panic-stricken. "Sorry, I'm only joking. He's just made a big thing about going out tonight, and how it's going to be in the inner city and how I wouldn't understand. It sounds like fun. I've even heard their song on the radio." It's funny how different mums can be. I don't think mine would have a clue what's on the radio.
We chat for a bit; she really does seem nice. Then Micah comes in. My chest feels funny for a second, but I'm back to normal quickly. He looks great. Long-sleeved top that really brings out his body shape, baggy pants that I want to rip off and see what they're hinting at underneath.
"Do I pass muster?" he asks.
I tell him he scrubs up OK.
"Are these some of the new clothes you bought this week then?" asks his mother. She turns to me. "He bought an entire new wardrobe, you know."
"Muuuum!" He's obviously really embarrassed. I think it's pretty funny, but I don't laugh, just smile. Actually, now that she mentions it, I did notice he seemed to be dressing a bit differently over the last couple of days, but then I figured, It's not like I memorised his wardrobe.
"Well, gotta run, right Gid?"
"Actually, ..."
"Bye mum." He kisses her on the forehead -- she's quite a bit shorter than him -- and pushes me out the door.
As we get in the car, I say, "I thought your mum was nice."
"Yeah, well." He loosens up as we get further away, though.
Again we get to my place in record time. Now I'm the one who's kind of embarrassed. My apartment's not going to stack up against anything he has. As we climb to the third floor I say, "So you know it's not going to be Buckingham Palace or anything."
He looks at the graffiti on the broken banister. "I wasn't expecting that. I just think it's cool you have your own place."
I suppose there is that.
We open the door, and I really see for the first time just how small it is. Just the one room plus bathroom, kitchen along one wall, small table and two chairs, bed, clothes rack, couple of bookshelves.
"Take a seat. The bed's actually the only comfortable thing here." I hope that doesn't sound like a come-on. "I only sit at the table when I'm eating."
He flops down on the futon, and I start rummaging through the fridge. Probably pasta, as usual, but I want to do something interesting. There's some chicken -- I'd planned to have it for three or four meals over the week, but I'll just use it now. Olives. Semi-dried tomatoes -- they're my food extravagance, I just really like how sweet they are. Onions, I'll cook them in the rest of the cheapo red wine I have left. Some spinach and snow peas, and that's it. I don't think I've ever been this gourmet before. Fingers crossed that it turns out.
As I start cutting the chicken Micah asks if he can do anything.
"Cutting onions OK?"
"Yep."
"Good, cause they make me cry something chronic."
Actually, he cries too. I wonder if he's ever cut an onion before. He's competent enough though.
Things all feel pretty comfortable.
Dinner's actually pretty quick, on the table in about twenty-five minutes, and we sit down and start eating. Micah's eyebrows go up. "Hey, this is really good."
I smile. "Ye of little faith."
"Was your dad a chef or something?"
"Nah." I pause. "I never actually knew him." Maybe I'll tell him the whole saga one day, but not today. "Mum worked, and I just had to learn. And I like eating." I smile again. I don't want to do the I'm-so-poor thing, I'd rather just keep it light.
"Well, I think you've missed your calling. You'd make someone a great wife." Then his eyes go wide. "I mean ... I didn't mean ..."
I laugh. He's really funny, and especially cute, when he's worried. "That's OK. So would you, the way you cut up those onions."
He laughs too.
I leave the dishes in the sink -- just this once I think I can leave it until tomorrow to clean up. Then I have to decide what to wear. Not that there's a heap of choice really. I look along the rack -- Micah flops onto the bed behind me again -- and settle on cargo pants and a T-shirt which, I admit, is kind of tight. I strip -- I've done it a million times at squash, but it feels weird with someone I think is really hot lying on my bed next to me. I wonder if he's watching. No reason he should. I look over my shoulder, and he's lying there like he's waiting for me to ravish him. Well, that's what my imagination says. Unfortunately, my imagination is starting to give me a boner, so I have to keep my back to him and get on with getting dressed. I have no idea if he was watching me.
Then we're ready to go.
When we arrive Karen and Kyle are already there. I do the introductions.
"Nice to meet you," gushes Karen. Then she actually tilts her head and tosses her hair; it's subtle, but like I thought they only did in shampoo commercials. Kyle just grunts. I wonder if they've had a fight. But it's more likely that Kyle is just slightly jealous, as usual, of Karen's flirty reaction, also usual. I can understand her totally, with Micah.
Jared arrives late, jogging over. "Sorry guys." He looks over at Micah.
"Micah. Jared." I say.
They say hi; and then when Micah's looking away, Jared looks at me with his eyebrows up to his hairline.
"What's with you? The botox injection go wrong?" I whisper.
"Is?"
"Yes, but just." It's our verbal shorthand: yeah, OK, so that's him, but we're just hanging out together.
Aneiki are excellent. I don't much dance, but I find myself jumping up and down: the music's happy, I'm happy, the whole world's happy. I wonder if this is how it feels to be on Es. I just want to hug someone -- preferably Micah -- but I go for Kaz instead. I do put my hand on Micah's shoulder though.
Micah and the others seem to get on well too. I'm glad. Maybe he'll want to come out with us again.
As we leave I'm humming to myself. "Pleased to meet you," indeed.
I'm just back from a run on Sunday when I get a call.
"Hey, it's Micah."
"Hey!" It's a surprise. I wonder if he got my phone number from the squash comp sheet. Could have always used the phone book though, he knows where I live.
"So, I was just studying today, and wondered if you were going into uni, maybe, and we could study together."
I never study with anyone, I have to work things out by myself. I find the whole concept of studying together weird. "Sure. I've just got to shower, so I'll probably be there in an hour and a half."
"See you then." He hangs up.
I wonder if he's OK; he just didn't sound as lively as usual. I have an active disaster-planning mechanism, and will imagine a dozen scenarios where everything's fucked itself up. It's come in handy a couple of times.
I get off the bus and walk towards the library. Micah's waiting out the front -- I see he's back to sunglasses again.
"How about we go and study on the grass?"
"OK with me." I wonder what we'll be studying, or if it matters.
We walk for a while, and then Micah picks a patch of grass and lies down; I lie down at right angles to him, on my stomach, so I can see him.
"You know, I had a really good time on Friday night."
"So did I." I have a flashback of the happy feeling I had then. "It was good for me too." I smile, joking.
He's silent for a while, and I feel like he wants to say something, and doesn't want to at the same time. I decide I should just talk about random stuff, instead of having an uncomfortable silence, and he can say what he wants, if he wants to. So I start telling him random things about Jared and Karen and Kyle.
When I've paused in the middle of some story he says, "So I broke up with my girlfriend yesterday." Part of me wondered if that was it.
"I'm sorry, man. How did she take it?"
"OK. We didn't actually see each other very often anyway. I mean, I liked her OK, but I never really felt like I had to spend that much time with her." He pauses for a bit.
"You know, if you want to tell me stuff, I'm happy to listen. Or if you want to go and get plastered in the middle of a Sunday, we could do that too. Or anything else."
He swallows. "So, maybe the thing I want to tell you is that I think you're hot." He shakes his head, once. "It sounds weird saying that to a guy."
"I don't find it weird saying to you that you're hot." I smile. "But, you know, maybe it's because you've just broken up with your girlfriend -- not that I'm saying you're not feeling what you are" -- I have no idea why I'm trying to talk him out of it -- "I don't actually know what I'm saying. I do know that I think you're as sexy as all get out. But I don't want you to feel pressured or anything."
He looks at me, taking off his sunglasses for the first time. The eyes still hit me with their difference, more than ever now. "Yeah, I guess it's all new for me. I just want to take things slowly." He rolls over and sits up. "Can we go for a walk?"
"Sure," I say. We walk towards the Ecology Park; and almost as soon as we're in the trees he grabs me from behind and pulls me to him. I'm a bit surprised -- but not in a bad way, if only all surprises could be like this! -- and turn around in his arms, which right at the moment feels like the best possible place in the world. I don't know if he'll be freaked out by kissing, so I just nibble on his neck, and then move up to his jaw -- if I could give up oxygen and just smell Micah, I would. But he's not freaked out by kissing, I discover, when he leans down and touches his lips to mine, softly at first and then more strongly.
After I don't know how long, he pulls back. He has that goofy grin on his face, and I've never seen him look cuter.
"I thought you wanted to go slow."
"Not too slow."
I pull him down, and we sit under one of the trees. I throw a dead branch out of the way, then sit with my back against the tree, and pull him in to me, his back to my front.
"You know, I thought you were cute from that first time you reffed the game for me. I couldn't believe I kept noticing your body while I was playing."
"Oh, so that's why you lost." I laugh. "Actually, I thought you were a git when I first saw you."
He turns around, or tries to. "Hey!" He satisfies himself with an injured look.
"I guess you just seemed too perfect. You had to be an arrogant git, on balance of probabilities."
"Oh, that's alright."
We sit for a few minutes without saying anything, me just relishing the contact, the sort of warm happy feeling you get from sitting in the sun but a hundred times more intense.
Micah wriggles a bit. "Is that your wallet?"
I shouldn't laugh, I don't want to make fun of him, but it's obvious he's never been with another guy before. "No, that's not my wallet."
He wriggles a bit more, experimentally. Then, "Oh."
I figure that since he knows my body's reaction to him, I'm licensed to do a bit more exploring. I lift up his shirt a little and run my hands along the skin underneath. The start of a touch is always intense, I just want to crush him to me. He sighs. My hands make their way up to his chest, circle around, then back down to his flat stomach again. Again I don't know how long it's for, I'm just lost in the touching. But then I pull him closer, so our heads are together and he's leaning back further; and I reach down and undo the button on his shorts, and then the zip. And I reach in underneath his boxers and feel his dick, already hard, and I think I'm going to come. Maybe he is too from the sound of it.
Then we hear a rustling, sounds like someone.
Micah tenses. "What is it?"
"Woman walking a dog." I can see her through the brush. She's actually quite far away, and walking away from us. I think it'd be kind of funny if she found us, but I can see Micah doesn't feel the same way. He starts hurriedly doing himself up again.
"Hey, it's OK, she won't see us."
He just looks at me. Fair enough, I guess.
As we get up, I'm not sure what will happen next, whether he's scared off. But he says, "So maybe we could go back to your place, and I'll help you cook dinner, or something." I'm all for something.
We get in, and I decide that I really shouldn't push too hard. But I'm pre-empted again, and Micah grabs me from behind. I at least know that it's not his wallet I can feel; and we just stand there for a bit, me pushing back against him, and him getting harder; and then I reach around and pull his shirt up half way, my arms feeling like they're being pulled out of their sockets but that's OK, and then pull my shirt up too, and we're touching skin to skin, the best feeling, when you first touch like that.
We stay like that for a while, just holding, and then I push us back towards the bed, making Micah fall over onto it. Lying crosswise along it, he takes his shirt off, and smiles at me. Part of me wants to just look at him on the bed like that, taking my fill of his fine body; but that part is overwhelmed pretty quickly with the part that wants to get more personal. I pull off his pants and his boxers, and his cock slaps against his stomach. I lift it up and let it go a couple of times, just enjoying playing with it. He laughs. And so when he's not expecting it I go down on him, taking his cock in my mouth, and he stops laughing with a sharp intake of breath. And then I let it go, and kiss my way up his side. I like touching his skin so much ... he's got a freckle just above his hip bone ... I keep going past it, detouring through the patch of hair in the middle of his chest, up to his collarbone; and then, lying on top of him, I push my whole body along his to get to his mouth, and kiss him.
"Ah fuck." He comes. I can feel him squirting onto my stomach.
He closes his eyes, and then looks at me. "I'm sorry. That's pretty embarrassing."
I smile, probably a bit too widely given how he's feeling. But it makes me feel really good, that he was so turned on. "Idiot. Don't be sorry." I kiss him again.
"But you didn't come." A pause. "I didn't make you come."
I look at him -- his eyes half closed, his lips in a slight pout, his blond hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his sexy collarbones -- and I feel like my heart is trying to jump out of my mouth. And, pushing myself an inch further up his body, my dick sliding through his come, I come too.
"I was pretty close." I make the come between us squelch. "As you can see."
He squelches us some more. "And hear."
"Yeah. You know, you really are incredibly sexy."
"Really?"
I roll my eyes.
Then I roll off him, and he puts his head tentatively on my shoulder; and as I put my arm around him I can feel myself drifting off to sleep.
I wake up to a mouth around my dick. For a second I'm not sure where I am, then in the light coming through the window I see the curtain of blond hair, and the muscles of the back stretching, and it comes back pretty quickly. I'm close again, already, so I just thrust gently, and then warn him; but he swallows anyway.
"Sorry," I say. "I meant to give you more notice. But I was a bit taken by surprise."
"That's OK. I've tasted my own, so I knew what to expect. Sort of, anyway." He smiles at me, looking happy with himself. "So was that OK?"
"Yes, that was 'OK'. Actually, it was fucking excellent."
He sits there for a bit. I wish I could draw, so I could capture the pose -- one leg under the other, his dick draped over it, the golden colour of his skin, lightly furred. Then he says, "I suppose I should be off home."
He gets up and picks up his shirt. I lean over and grab him, and drag him back onto the bed; I don't want to stop touching him. Running my hands up the inside of his thighs, I take hold of his hardening dick and stroke it a few times. "So how about you stay here for the night?" He hesitates. "Call up your mum and tell her study's taking longer than you expected." I stroke him a few more times, and then, twisting around, go down on him. He lasts longer than last time.
Afterwards, he gets up and puts on his boxers. I look at him, kind of disappointed but not wanting to say anything, and he looks back and says, "I can't call my mum while I'm naked. That'd be way gross."
I thought it'd be difficult sleeping with someone after just having a bed to myself for a long time, but it's not. We spoon, and I happily fall asleep.
There'll be 7 or so parts. Hope you liked it so far. Remember you were warned it was slow (although I guess it sped up finally). Email to mark_410@hotmail.com is welcomed with open arms and slow-typing fingers.