Long Weekend

TheDevilNinja's note for Chapter 2:

Okay, so this is Chapter 2. I wrote the first three chapters over the course of about a week then took a break... for two years, it turned out later, while I edited and re-wrote and did whatever else it is you do to written work, I suppose. I have recently made a few changes, so those of you who can pick out writing style might notice some differences; this is because Chapter 2 was originally written in October 2002. Yes, I am a slacker. I am currently (end of March 2009) halfway through Chapter 8.

Please note that one of my characters is bisexual and from here on out there is significant content dealing with aspects of his bisexuality, including a depiction of a sexual encounter with a woman. I hope it doesn't put you off. This will be a major theme in several chapters of the work (chapters 3 and 7), plus numerous references throughout.

If you like, feel free to drop me a line on alongweekend@gmail.com

Thanks for reading -tDN-

All rights reserved as explained in the Nifty ToS.

1. Hey Chris

"Big D! What the fuck are you doing here?" Chris was off the couch now, stunned. Damien feigned hurt.

"Watching you hang around with no clothes on, and feeling unappreciated." He grinned and Chris had to follow suit. They hugged each other. Alec was chuffed. He thought at first Damien had seemed a little out of sorts and put it down to tiredness; now, he could see how excited Damien was; and Chris suddenly looked rejuvenated. Alec was aware that Chris's research project was running a touch behind schedule; he himself reckoned the boy was burnt out. But Chris always said, "Who gets burnt out at 26? Be serious!" and probably had a point at that, but Alec was sure a holiday would do the job. He had in fact built the entire long weekend away around Chris being there. He was particularly glad that Damien could join them. While all three were best friends, the group dynamic tended to sit more evenly with three of them rather than two, regardless of history, and Alec was pretty sure the event would perk them all up hugely.

"What are you still grinning for, Alec?" Again, Chris swerved through his reverie like a racing driver on acid. "I can't believe the two of you managed to keep this quiet!" Chris turned to Damien again. "What time did you leave to get here?"

"Just flew home from the grand tour, dude. Flight touched down an hour ago. I must smell like a fucking miner, though -- had to go via Brussels and Copenhagen to get a connecting flight out of Frankfurt. With typical German efficiency, we landed early -- just before half five a.m. I've been in transit for like nineteen days." He gave his armpit a theatrical sniff. "Yup -- it is kinda whiffy."

"Dude, don't stress. It's not exactly your French chateau and spa, but we do have water in the taps here in our neck of the woods, you know," said Alec as he passed Damien a cup of coffee. "Breakfast will be ready in like half an hour, so you can grab a shower or bath now, if you like."

"Hmmm," Damien shotgunned the coffee in about three seconds. "That was good. Special blend? You don't get that sort of proper, you know, coffee on the cheap seats on the plane I was on. But yeah, if nobody else is going, perhaps a quick shower wouldn't be a bad idea. Don't you need me to cook or anything?"

"Nah, it's cool. Simon's coming to give me a hand and Chris has already got started. Go get clean and pretty and we can chat afterwards." Right on cue, Simon wandered into the kitchen in his long pyjama pants, stretching as he entered.

"Goodness me! Look at all this scattered flesh everywhere! I feel a bit over--dressed. Morning, chaps," he said. "Oh, Chris, I see your special delivery has arrived." He winked at Alec. Chris leaped to his feet.

"You knew as well! How come I didn't find out? No offence, Simon, but you suck at keeping secrets. How did you manage?" Chris was even more flabbergasted than before, much to the others' amusement.

"Easy," replied Simon, winking at Alec. "The threat of violence. I had a superb reason to not fuck it up." He walked over to Damien and they shook hands. "How you doing? Nice to see you again. How was your flight? Sorry it was so long -- my little bro says everything is booked up this weekend."

"It's cool," Damien waved it aside. "Every time we took off I got another meal, so I had about four lunches before supper as well as a snack! Please thank your brother and his bird for organising for me." Simon grinned.

"Will do. We cooking, Alec?" he asked, moving towards the fridge. As he and Alec swung into action, Damien hauled a toiletries bag from his luggage and, Chris in tow, headed into the bathroom, still chatting to one another.

"Dude, it is so good that you're here. We haven't seen you in ages!" Chris was like a puppy, excited way beyond belief. "I know we send email like every other day, but... this is just too cool!" Damien turned on the hot water in the shower and adjusted it to a suitable temperature.

"I am so glad to be here. A whole week before they're expecting me at the office, and I could do with the break," Damien replied.

"A week? I wish I'd known! I'd have arranged to stay longer," said Chris. Damien laughed.

"Well, I'm seeing my folks the night we get back, and then I've arranged to spend the last few days with James. James your house--mate James, that is." He grinned.

"What?" Chris exclaimed. "Seriously?" Damien nodded, amused at the response. "So he knew as well? Yowsers! You guys really did a fucking a number on me!" Damien pulled off his shoes and his t--shirt. He was in good shape, well-defined and big enough without appearing to have spent days and days and buckets of steroids in the gym. As he started on his jeans, he stopped and looked enquiringly at Chris.

"Er... out or in?" he asked. Chris, vaguely disappointed, pointed out of the room as he made to go. "Dude, you're welcome to stay and chat, if you like. I got nothing you haven't seen before, hundreds of times, when we were kids."

That was true enough. But, Chris thought to himself, not so true as they got older. Damien had acquired a reputation for public indecency somewhere along the line -- although Alec had certainly got decidedly more brazen these last few years, this morning a clear example -- and they had all been naked often enough in each other's company, it was like when you were changing at school, and you were naked under a long t--shirt and maybe people only got a small glimpse of your cock, if any. And they had had different timetables, so Damien and Alec had done Phys Ed together, with Alec and Chris having it together in their final year, but Chris and Damien had never. In fact, Chris thought, it's been more than a decade since he was full on naked in front of me, not just changing quickly at the gym or the beach or running around streaking in the dark. The thought thrilled him -- Damien certainly was beautiful, and you could see by the way his clothes hung off his frame that he was still in excellent, maybe even spectacular, shape.

Chris replied, "Well, if you aren't shy-"

Damien snorted. "Me, shy?" He snorted again. "Right."

"You win. I'll stay." Damien nodded.

"That's the spirit. Pull up a... bathtub. Would you get the door? I'm sure it's nothing the others haven't seen before either; well, in concept, anyway, but... well, you know what I mean." Chris pushed the door shut and perched himself on the edge of the bathtub, ready to drink in the sight of Damien. He hoped he didn't appear too eager. As he gazed at the spectacle unfolding before him, he realised Damien was still talking. He tried to pay attention. "You don't mind me crashing unexpectedly with you for a couple of days, do you?"

"Mind? Hell no," Chris said. "I do have a few things to do at the lab which are going to need to get done, but it's for an hour or two only, and then I'll be back again. I can't leave you at the house all day. You'll be bored out of your skull. The place has adequate nightlife, but during the day..." He shook his head.

"Cool. Presumably we can do the wine route and head out to the bay and stuff, yeah?" Damien had a thing for red wine, Chris remembered. He felt a pang of sadness that Damien hadn't got to taste any of last night's Merlot, which Chris thought he really would have loved. They'd had so much to drink last night, the five of them, Chris couldn't recall whether they'd drank both bottles or just one. He went for optimism as Damien finished fumbling in his toiletries bag for some soap.

"Here -- smell this, Chris." Damien was holding a bottle of something which looked pretty stylish towards him. Chris took a sniff. It was quite a familiar smell, citrusy, with some other tones which he couldn't quite identify, which annoyed him slightly. He nodded his approval and Damien grinned. "The new Hugo Boss which I bought at duty--free for peanuts." Chris nodded.

"Cool -- gotta love duty free." He did wish that Damien would just cut to the chase and take his pants off, though.

"Yep. You'll be amazed at what you can pick up on the plane, much cheaper than the airport. Anything you need, I fly often enough, just give me a shout, okay?" Chris nodded his thanks. At long last, Damien appeared to have enough stuff to take his shower. With no fanfare, he quickly unbuttoned his jeans, slid the fly down and pulled them off. Fortunately, he wasn't looking at Chris; more concentrating on getting his feet out of the legs without falling over, so Chris could take a good look at him. His quads were a little larger than at Christmas, when Chris last saw him; and his tan was murky and somewhat faded. The dark hair of his treasure trail was beautifully juxtaposed against the white of his bikini briefs, and his smooth legs -- tight quads and all -- rippled as he moved. Without warning, he lost his balance and grabbed hold of Chris's shoulder. "Whoa!"

"Too much gin and tonic on the plane?" Chris grinned at him. Damien laughed as he righted himself.

"Not quite. Rum and Coke, it was," Damien replied.

Chris laughed. "For breakfast?" he asked.

"No, you muppet! Last night. Weirdest thing," said Damien. He folded up the jeans as he continued. "The stewardess asked if I wanted anything to drink, and I said 'can I please grab a Coke?' and the next thing..." he paused. In a fluid motion, he pulled his underwear down, stepped out of it, and picked it up. Chris kept his eyes on Damien's face, a remarkable effort, as Damien continued. "...She hands me a glass with some ice, a swizzle stick, a baby can of Coke and a miniature Bacardi." Damien shrugged. "Who knows? I definitely didn't ask for one. True story. I can't figure it out. Does can I grab a Coke' sound like please give me a bottle of rum'?"

He bent down to stuff all the clothes into his bag, giving Chris a splendid view of his backside. It was all Chris could do to not bite it, literally eight inches from his face. He could see the tan lines, although faded, clearly -- Damien always favoured shorts and not a Speedo, even at the gym pool, and the lines were muddier than they would be with a Speedo -- and as Damien bent further, between his legs to his completely smooth shaved scrotum. Chris could feel his own cock stirring.

"Is he completely shaven these days?" he wondered. Damien turned back and stepped into the shower, pulling the glass door shut behind him. Unfortunately it was one of those doors designed to protect one's modesty, making use of pinhead glass and blurring the person behind it.

"Anyway, I drank the coke straight out of the can -- not keen on ice cold stuff, as you know -- and I kept the rum for later. It's in my toiletry bag, in fact. May come in handy at some stage."

Chris watched him through the glass. He could already feel the room heating up as a result of the steam from the shower, and he could quite easily smell Damien's new Hugo Boss as well. That was one thing with growing older, he thought. As kids, you asked your mom for a can of deodorant because it was cool and your dad used it. Then, in adolescence, you began to need it. At the same time, you started noticing all these other cool colognes and stuff -- largely because the brands were shoved in your face on television and in magazines -- but wondered why on earth anyone would pay so much more for what was essentially deodorant in a glass bottle.

Then you began to appreciate those things for what they were, and what they represented, and you were forced to admit to yourself that maybe you were a bit of a snob, and that you could in fact do with being one up on everyone else you knew by pitching up at some event smelling like a million bucks while everyone else was just wearing their old anti--perspirant. And then, before you knew it, you had an entire collection of these things.

At least, Chris thought, that's how it was with Damien and Alec and him. He knew that Max subscribed to a toned--down set of the same principles, but was definitely the equivalent of Gandhi when it came to snobbishness and only really kept bottles of Chrome in his cupboard with something else a little less costly, but still up--market, for everyday use. In fairness, though, he stuck to the Chrome and had the entire range -- shower gel, after--shower gel, after--shave, soap, deodorant, moisture balm and eau de toilette.

Nick, too, had a few of the more exclusive fragrances in his cupboard but favoured the summery ones like the Tommy Hilfiger and Gucci collections. Chris was pretty sure he could smell one of the Calvin Kleins on Simon last night; Alec tended to favour the more sophisticated fragrances like Kenzo and YSL. Matt also went summery -- the lighter Aramis and Diesel were his poison of choice.

Chris himself was a firm believer in Armani, top to bottom, and tended to loiter around the Emporio fragrances as well as Acqua di Gio, which was his favourite. Damien had always stuck to trendy classics, though -- fragrances which had been around for some time but still had street cred, like Davidoff Cool Water, or ones which were destined to do well like his new Hugo Boss In Motion, which Chris himself had been debating whether or not to purchase.

Chris had probably been their influence to get more into these things than most, getting something of a feel for the different scents as a result of his studies in winemaking and viticulture. His sense of smell was very well developed, and he could easily pick up things -- both in the wines and the fragrances -- that the others couldn't. As he watched Damien through the glass, he racked his brain trying to identify the other tone he could recognize in the Boss in Motion. Cardamom, that was it! He was pleased to have finally got it and would have been preoccupied with it for some time had it not come to him. Chris suddenly realized that Damien was still talking about something and expecting a response. Not having a clue what it was, he opted for a safe, statistically probable "well... yeah, I suppose," and hoped for the best.

"Brilliant!" Damien continued, so Chris assumed he was in the clear and dutifully tried to focus, as well as trying to focus on Damien in the shower through the doors. He couldn't make out much detail through the glass, though; he could see the tan fairly clearly, and it became evident that Damien had in fact not done a Brazilian -- was that what guys called it as well when they shaved all their pubes off? Chris wondered -- as he could definitely see some dark brown fluff. Abruptly, the water turned off, and Damien half-opened and peered around the door. "Well?" he asked.

"Huh?" Chris realized that his earlier, statistically-safe bet had not paid off.

"Are you gonna do my back now, or should I finish up and get dressed first?" There was a touch of good--natured, but definite, sarcasm. Chris chuckled.

"All right, all right! No need to get snippy!" he said, mind racing. Wash Damien's back? Him? Yes, please! He wondered briefly if God was smiling on him that week -- not only was Damien unexpectedly one, there; two, naked; and three, in dire need of a back scrub, but four, he'd also got a good handful of Alec that morning as well, plus the favour returned! And of course, five, last night's hijinks... Am I gonna get laid again tonight as well, he thought to himself? The thought of it again caused a stirring in his loins and he got up abruptly and crossed to the shower.

"Hmmm." Damien pursed his lips. "How's the best way to do this without getting you all wet? We should tell Alec to get a bigger shower, rather than this poky one stuck here behind the door." He pushed the shower door open all the way -- Chris ground his teeth together; Damien was still facing away from him and had his business end behind the panels of the door folded up on the side -- and turned his back to Chris. "How's that?"

"Step in further, or we'll get water all over the floor," said Chris. "And at some stage, I'll need a sponge and some soap. Unless you expect me to scrape it off with my fingers."

"You could lick it off." It was said innocently enough, but maybe not, Chris thought to himself. And the sarcasm sounds calculated as well.

"And you could bite me," he countered. That got a chuckle from Damien. "Anyway, you'll smell like morning breath. A waste of perfectly good Hugo Boss, really."

"Fair enough." A soapy sponge appeared in the air above Damien's shoulder. Chris took it and set about his task. As he got started above Damien's right shoulder, he felt Damien wince.

"You okay?" He kneaded the shoulder deeply as Damien spoke.

"Yeah. Pulled something the other day."

"Gym?" Chris asked.

"Er... reaching suddenly for the phone, of all things. Computer programming is like a contact sport, I tell you." Chris laughed loudly.

"Jeez, you're soft. Worse than Alec!" He worked his way down the right side of Damien's ribcage as Damien massaged his own shoulder with his free hand. Chris marveled at the rippling latissimus and deltoids. Damien certainly was in mint condition, no doubt about it. "You been putting in some serious hours with the bod, Big D?"

"Yeah. Was looking a little flabby, I thought, so I started going again in earnest. A bit of weights, toning circuit and a kilometer or so in the pool, three times a week. I think it's coming along quite nicely."

Hell, yes. "I'll drink to that," said Chris.

"We can crack the Bacardi. You're looking quite fine yourself these days."

"Triathlon time soon," said Chris. "Thought I'd give it a go again. Plus a bit of trimming and toning in the gym. Got Matt to write me a routine for that -- he's in superb shape. Will hopefully pay dividends soonish."

"Yeah." Chris finished up the other side of Damien and stepped backwards, his eyes fixed on Damien's fantastic backside, wishing he was brazen enough to hit it with the sponge as well. Amazingly, he'd managed to remain entirely flaccid as he'd worked on Damien; definitely a plus, Chris thought. "Finished?" Damien asked. Chris poked him in the sore shoulder. He winced again. "Ow! Piss off -- I'm injured!" He splashed some water over his shoulder, catching Chris full on the midriff with it and stopping his laughter dead in its tracks.

"You bastard! Now I'm all wet!"

"You smell anyway. You'd have needed a shower as well, so no time like the present." Damien sounded pleased with himself, Chris thought. Revenge, at a later stage, would be sweet. Damien probably had a point, though.

"Well, if you'd move your fat arse out of there, maybe I could consider getting clean!" Chris said, thinking to himself how nice it would be to get in together. Damien grunted.

"Give me a sec to get the soap off my back and you can have it."

"Sure, man." Chris stepped back to the bath as Damien -- curse him -- shut the door again. Chris wondered if he would actually get to see the full picture after all. There was still four days to go... no, a whole week now, wasn't it? "Gets better and better," he murmured to himself, as Damien turned around inside the shower. Chris's eyes nearly fell out of his head. Through the glass -- although he couldn't be 100% sure with the pinhead effect -- Damien appeared to be three--quarters erect. Amused, and highly pleased, Chris chuckled to himself.

"Dude, don't you want to pass me a towel?" Damien asked.

Not really, Chris thought, I'd like to see you step out and let me take a look at you. "Get it yourself, you lazy bitch!" he countered.

"Yowsers. Someone be gettin' all pissy," came the reply, and both of them laughed. Damien stuck his head around the door again. "Dude, seriously, pass us a towel. I don't want to step out all naked so everyone can see my winkie, you know." Chris burst out laughing again, then reached over and picked up Damien's towel to hand to him.

"Your winkie, no less! There's a word you just don't hear often enough in everyday conversation."

Damien grunted. "Yeah, whatever. Nevertheless..."

"Dude, firstly, it's only me, not everyone. Secondly, as you said, I've seen it hundreds of times when we were kids."

"Yeah, when we were kids," Damien interjected. "That was like, so fifteen years ago; now it's all big and hairy and shit."

"Thirdly," Chris continued, "I was here when you went in, so I've seen it already."

"Dude!" Damien was indignant. "You're not supposed to look! That's so wrong!"

"What can I tell you? I'm gay," Chris said. "Since when did you get so shy, anyway? If it'll make you feel any better, you can look at mine when I go in, okay?"

Damien stepped out, nonchalantly drying himself off without covering up, as if daring Chris to look. "That fucking monster thing, this early in the morning with my fragile ego? Perhaps not." He grinned. "Nah, it's cool. I'm just winding you up, is all. And you didn't sneak a peep -- I looked the whole time to see if you would. Was kinda miffed, in a way. It would have been rather flattering, I thought... Just so you know, I don't have a winkie anymore. Mine's become a big, fuck--off, monster cock."

Chris laughed again, shaking his head. He watched Damien as he bent over and towel--dried his short, dark brown hair -- trendy, but still almost a school cut after all these years away from that ghastly institution -- an opportunity to look if ever there was one. You could sort--of see his cock, just average and also neatly circumcised, sitting in its dark patch of pubes, contrasting the shaven sack. There had certainly been a bit of trimming going on though, Chris could tell. He let his eyes roam further down Damien's legs, nicely toned and getting good definition from the gym. Chris realized suddenly that the thighs were completely hairless; and suddenly the tan started looking a little off to him as well, the lines of it murky and muddy and... wrong, somehow.

"Damien, I gotta ask... you been waxing your legs?" he asked. Damien looked suddenly embarrassed, a red flush quickly grabbing hold of his cheeks.

"Ah. Er... well, no... not as such," he spluttered. He looked like a deer in the headlights for a few seconds. Eventually, he continued. "Decided to pay a visit to the laser place." He grinned sheepishly. "My neighbour, Graeme, arranged it for reduced cost. He's a doctor there."

"You went for the hair removal laser thingy? Cool!" Chris replied. He meant it -- as soon as he was earning some real money, he intended to do much the same and said so.

"Well, yeah. I treated myself before going to France. Needed to look good for the week we spent upgrading the system they use at the spa. Not hairy like animal, in other words. Not that I was to start with, but I always wanted to get the top of my legs done. Left about half on my shins and calves, but had it all taken off up the top. My arse, too. Look." He turned, and Chris looked willingly at the tight, baby-smooth cheeks of his backside. "I feel eleven again! Smooth and silky," he chuckled. "I love touching it, although it makes me feel like a kiddy-fiddler. Go on -- give it a feel. You know you want to."

Hating himself, but knowing he would hate himself even more if he didn't, Chris reached out a tentative hand to Damien's backside, feeling the heat of his skin. "Nice. They say there is a bit of a zing factor," said Chris. "That true?" Damien grimaced.

"Yeah. It's kinda warm at first, then it feels like major sunburn for like three days or so. My bum stung like a bitch." Chris laughed; Damien grinned.

"You get your tan lasered on as well?" Chris asked. Damien blushed again.

"Since when did you get so stuffin' inquisitive?" he asked, mildly annoyed. "No I did not in fact get my tan lasered on." Chris wouldn't let him get away with it, though.

"I see." Chris paused. He could tell Damien knew what was coming next, and decided to let him squirm for a bit. "It's self--tan, isn't it?" Chris sniggered eventually, much to Damien's chagrin. "Hehe! And I thought I was the vain one."

"Piss off!" Damien turned away and began to dress, pulling on a second pair of bikini briefs. Chris crowed in delight, pointing at the black Soviet logo.

"Hmmm... I guess that makes you King Label-boy, doesn't it! Or Label Boy 2 -- Return of the Killer Label Boy!" He burst into peals of laughter; in the end, Damien was obliged to join in. "I now have to ask the final question, Big D. You ready? Who, exactly, are we trying so hard to impress? Be honest, now." Damien pulled a face at him.

"Not you, that's for sure. Don't flatter yourself." There was a hint of malice in Damien's voice; Chris knew it was only embarrassment, though. He regarded Damien, and waited. Eventually, following much glowering, Damien continued.

"Fine, I'll tell you. I've met some of the people who were going to be in Paris before. Several impressive specimens, really; thought I'd maximize my chances. Especially since half of them were going on to the spa as well." He looked defensive, and a bit annoyed.

"Fair enough," Chris said. "But surely a tanning bed would have been a better option?" Damien shook his head.

"The colour comes out all wrong. Even, true enough, but you can see it's fake. It's like the wrong golden--brown," he replied. "Unfortunately, it was pissing down up-country the week before we went, so I was obliged to self--medicate. It looked better when it went on, it's just faded a bit, is all."

Chris nodded. "You don't have to answer to me, man." Damien glared at him. "Why didn't you go for an all-over one?"

"I'm not sure it's safe to put that stuff on the twins," Damien said. "So I wasn't all that keen on potentially giving myself knob-rot. Unfortunately I was a complete muppet and kinda fucked it up -- you can see where the line isn't even. I didn't want to get it all over my undies, so I put it on in the shower."

Chris nodded. "Tell me it paid off at least, since you had to go to France looking like runny shit on overdone toast," he said. Damien flared.

"Piss off, you swine! Why do I have to put up with this bullshit?" He sounded so indignant that Chris had to laugh again. "Fucking bad attitude you got there, son."

"So is that a `no,' then?" Chris asked. Damien shook his head, incredulous.

"You're like a dog with a bone, aren't you?"

"Better than a dog with a boner."

Damien pulled a face at him. "Smart--arse. But yes, it did pay off. Sort of."

"Sort of how? Getting an e--mail address does not count as paying off if it's someone you work with. Even as a computer nerd you must know that." Chris said.

"Well, there was a little more than that. A lot more, actually." Damien was quite smug about it.

"Well? Don't make me beat it out of you," Chris tried. Damien almost choked as he burst out laughing.

"Be serious! You couldn't beat an orgasm out of a cock! And I have a black belt, remember, so don't try anything stupid." Chris waved his hand impatiently. "Okay, okay. I'll tell you. Things got er... intimate... the last night of the session in Paris before we went on to the spa. With someone who didn't go on to the spa." He paused, unsure what to say next. "I got the impression, though, that it was a once--off thing. She's gone back to Italy. To her live--in. No, not live--in... what's the word? Fiancé, yes, that's it." He sounded a little bitter at the end.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "You okay with that?" he said. Damien shrugged.

"Do I have a choice? It was to be expected, I guess. I wasn't trying to impress her, though; it was more of a case of good misfortune after I struck out with the one I was trying to get in with. You remember the bird I mentioned at Christmas?"

"She was Spanish, or Portuguese, yes? They were here for a training session, or something."

Damien nodded. "That's her. But she's unfortunately not the one I'm talking about. I got more bat than a full cricket season from her. It was brutal." He shook his head. "So this other bird... we kind of hit it off at the opening night dinner thing at the hotel; we worked together for the rest of the week -- had lunch and dinner together most days, even took in a movie. Things got heavier and we got raucous on the closing night in the hotel gym. She is kinda keen on her man, so nothing really worth following up there. She's a nice girl. No regrets, I suppose." He shrugged again. "And then at the spa --"

"Jesus! At the spa as well? You dog, you!" Chris interjected. "Exactly how many people got to see your big fuck--off monster cock on this tour?" Damien laughed again.

"Plenty of people saw it. It's a spa in Europe, after all -- you spend a substantial amount of time changing from very little clothing into even less. Plus the gym, and the Jacuzzi, and the beach --" he broke off, counting them on his fingers. He stopped, grinning, when he saw the look on Chris's face. "I'm only kidding, man. We were actually working, you know, most of the time, putting in their larney new system. But it's true what I said about the spa for the body treatment sessions they threw in for free as a perk for us; so I spent quite a bit of time with other naked guys." He paused, almost like he wondered if he should say more. "One of them I might have spent a little more time with, though."

"Nevertheless," Chris said, fishing for information, "two half--points seems like you're doing okay." Damien looked simultaneously triumphant and guilty.

"Well, technically, its... one... full point and... two... quarter points," he said. Chris looked at him, puzzled. "Nicoletta -- the Italian girl -- got considerably more than just a look in the gym at my, er... goods."

"In that case," Chris said mildly, "you other man, you. Bisexuality seems to pay off, doesn't it?" It was more a statement than a question but Damien said nothing. Chris immediately wondered if he'd crossed the line, somewhere. "I'm not being judgmental -- well, not trying to be, anyway. Certainly, I'd take what I could get at this stage. It has been somewhat of a dry spell." He dropped the lie without batting an eyelid. Damien nodded. "So what exactly did the French guy get for his quarter--points?"

Damien paused briefly, then grinned.

"Er... um... only one quarter, technically. An extended, but ultimately interrupted, feel of things. The steam room suddenly got a little full and we were obliged to stop. The moment was lost, really. Probably a good thing. He was a lovely boy, but after Paris I couldn't get interested; initially tried to play the tease angle, and then opted to let it progress because I am merely human and therefore weak and fallible."

"I see," said Chris. "So all's well that just sort--of ended, then?" Damien shrugged, without much conviction, then nodded a little more vigorously. "How did the French guy take it?" Chris wasn't sure he was getting the full story.

"Oh. Er... well, you know... there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do about it. He did try every come--on in the book; tried to get me back to his room as well. I managed to resist, though, that time -- I'd been thinking a lot more about Nicoletta and I was feeling kinda shitty. And slightly used, as well; but that was just what I told myself to get over the guilt. Didn't work anyway. Had to `fess up to being the other man eventually."

"Well, you could console yourself that it was only a once--off thing," Chris replied. "For what it's worth, anyway. Not much, if I know you at all." Damien nodded glumly. "Well, you can't undo it, as you know. Might as well look on it as a learning experience."

"Yeah. A lesson learned the hard way, unfortunately. Like most seem to be these days. I don't know if she has any guilt at all. She didn't seem to; but at the time, neither did I."

"She has more to lose than you do," Chris said. "At best, anyway, you're only half to blame. Takes two to tango. Especially when you're only human, weak and fallible."

"And sexy, apparently. You don't just pull super--hot Italian birds and nice French boys out of the blue, hey," Damien smiled wanly. That pleased Chris a little; often, in his experience of Damien in their younger days, the boy would wallow for too long in unnecessary depression, so this was definitely a turn--up for the books.

"Easy, tiger," Chris responded. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that that" -- he pointed at the Hugo Boss -- "and those" - he pointed at the Soviet logo - "may have upped your sexy quotient just a bit."

"Hmmm. Some days I reckon I need all the help I can get!" Damien said. Chris nodded.

"I know what you mean," he said. Suddenly, the thing bothering him came to him. "The French boy only got one quarter point? Who got the other? Nicoletta as well?" Again, Damien looked guilty. "Dude, if I'm touching a nerve--" Damien waved it aside.

"Yeah, it was her. In the hotel gym again."

Chris was a little surprised. "The hotel gym seems to have seen its fair share of action." Damien nodded. "Where, exactly?"

"Er... several places. It's kinda embarrassing, really," Damien replied. "Long story."

"I have time."

"Fair enough. You might want to get cracking in there," Damien nodded at the shower, "while I tell it." It was a good point, Chris thought, wondering to himself if Damien was just as keen to see him naked as he had been about his friend. The thought excited him a little as he turned to get the water running.

However, the whole Nicoletta thing was more than a little out of character for Damien, he thought -- Damien was normally so careful and took a chess--match approach to everything he did; planning each item several moves in advance and always factoring in a few curve--balls along the way. Moving quickly just wasn't his thing. Nor was talking sex -- the three of them had been friends more than twenty years but when it came to Chris and Alec, Damien had never kissed and told; nothing beyond a mere suggestion, at any rate, with the most superficial of detail. Names were always off-limits.

The full point Damien referred to was from their old scoring system, back in the days of wistful virginity. It had started out simply and got complicated as they went along -- an eighth of a point was awarded for a good snog with tongue, consensual touch through the clothes, or alternatively for mutual nudity with no touching; a quarter point was given for touching of the more sacred areas of skin; half a point if that went to climax or for any oral activity; three--quarters for an oral climax or anything else short of penetration and the full point for that itself. Actually, at first, it was one point for a good snog, two for touching, five for climax, eight for oral sex and ten for the whole thing, but that had been fractionated later on. Not that it had mattered at the time it was devised -- at fourteen, even a quarter point was almost unattainable. Now in their mid-twenties, it was a different story.

But a full point... that must mean that he had had full--on sex with the Italian girl. Chris felt his heart sink a little. He wished at that stage that Alec hadn't even suggested he and Damien get together. While he'd certainly entertained the thought over the years -- and many a sleepless night's self-loving paid tribute to that -- that all ended after the fiasco with him and Alec; God only knew why that had failed. And Damien had patched it up and brokered a truce and slowly repaired and redesigned the whole thing. Perhaps it was better that the two of them didn't get together; altruism aside, it probably wasn't the cleverest idea in the world anyway, he half-convinced himself. For fuck's sake.

The thought didn't serve to lift his mood any and the headache was back to boot. Nevertheless, he listened to the rest of Damien's sordid tale.

-x-