This story contains sexual situations between males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. If you are under 18 years of age you are probably not legally allowed to read this story. This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the web sites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author.
Our late-night lovemaking meant Ty and I had slept in and as I woke to greet this final morning of our idyllic Sunshine Coast break, I felt disappointment that we'd have no time to just lay in bed together, enjoying the closeness of our bodies and sealing the unbreakable bond the past six weeks had so firmly cemented.
I sighed and shook Ty lightly. I smiled to myself, enjoying the sight of him waking. The way he squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut, as if by doing so the morning would go away. The way his eyelashes fluttered as he resigned himself to abandoning sleep. And especially, the little boy smile that lit up his handsome face when he saw me looking at him.
He sleepily pursed his lips, inviting the kiss he knew was coming. He kissed back dreamily, running a hand down the side of my body until it came to rest on my bare ass, which he squeezed hard. "Morning mate!" he yawned. "I gotta piss!"
He threw back the sheet and padded to the bathroom. I drank in the sight of his naked body knowing it would be a while before it was once again my morning treat. I followed a couple of minutes later, and emptied my bladder as Ty splashed his face with water.
He leaned against the vanity, stretched and yawned again, before smirking as he noticed me struggling to siphon the python with morning wood. "We've got time before breakfast if you want me to make that nasty swelling go down!"
"It's later than you think mate," I sighed. "George is already up and packing and it's breakfast on the hop in the kitchen today."
Ty's face registered disappointment as he remembered that today was the day that we all go our separate ways, and gruelling work schedules were only a weekend away for both of us. "Fuck!" he groaned. "I want to just stay here forever ..."
"Yeah, we wish," I agreed. "But we'd better get this show on the road."
I walked back into the bedroom and dragged out our empty suitcases while Ty jumped in the shower. I felt a pang when I realised how much I'd miss him singing his favourite songs as he scrubbed himself clean. By the time he emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, I'd packed my case and half of his. "My turn," I smiled, as I switched places with him in the bathroom.
We were dressed and packed within half an hour and when we joined George in the kitchen, he too was fully packed and had scrambled eggs on toast, juice and coffee waiting for us.
We wolfed the meal down and George ran us through the checklist he'd painstakingly prepared in case we forgot anything. I was relieved but not surprised to find that George had done a lot of cleaning in the early hours, leaving nothing much for us to do but get ourselves organized for the drive to the airport.
I was putting bins out when Simon's car rolled up and he and Scott jumped out.
"Hey guys!" I enthused. "Guess the holiday's over, eh?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Scott said, trying not to sound glum.
As soon as we were inside, George and Ty whisked Scott off to his room to help him pack, leaving Simon and me alone in the kitchen.
"So mate," I said. "How are you feeling about Scott going back home?"
"Well, we're kinda gonna miss each other," he said hesitantly. "It's been a good few weeks Mike, you know? Like, we've really hit it off. But I've gotta go back home with my folks next week and Scott's going home today. So, well ... not much we can do about it."
"You going to stay in touch?"
He smiled. "Actually, we've talked about doing some travel together. Scott's taken his gap year and he's heading overseas, and I'm going to talk to mum and dad about deferring Uni for a while and maybe hooking up with him for a while in Europe!"
"Mate, that's great!" I said, putting my arm around his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "You'll have a great time together. I hope it works out."
"You know Mike," he replied, "we had a long talk last night and we decided we're not ready for `happy ever after' just yet. We're great mates, and the other stuff, well that's great too. But we're just going to keep it casual for now, see how it goes."
"Good for you mate!" I smiled, as I opened my arms and gave him a hug. "It's been great having you part of this holiday, and I want to thank you again for being discreet. I think you know how much that means to Ty and me."
We'd just ended our hug when Ty, Scott and George joined us in the kitchen. Greetings were exchanged, and Ty announced it was time for the luggage to be loaded. Ty grabbed George's arm as he went to pick up two suitcases. "Wait up, George," he chuckled. "There's a couple of fine strapping young men here with muscles who'll gladly do this job. We oldies can have one last coffee".
Simon and Scott rolled their eyes and disappeared to figure out how to fit everything in the trunk. George washed and dried the last of our dishes and we took one last look around the haven we'd called home for 40 days before locking the door and returning the key to its hiding place.
One by one, we said our goodbyes to Simon, and busied ourselves climbing into the car and getting comfortable as he and Scott had their special moment. As Simon drove off with a toot, I started the car and we began our 90 minute drive to Brisbane airport.
Along the way, Ty tried to keep things light by singing songs about planes to make us laugh; snatches of Leaving On A Jet Plane', Up Up & Away', Bennie & The Jets' and Jet Airliner', all perfectly in tune. And for Scott, who was bussing it back to Stanthorpe, a bit of the Who's "Magic Bus". When he started to sing "The Wheels On The Bus Go Round And Round", a song we'd all been taught as kids, we all joined in.
Just after ten, we hit the turn off for the airport. Ty and I would be very early for our flights, but we wanted to be there to see Scott off on his bus and be part of the surprise for George when he realised we'd organised a car and driver to transport him back to his Gold Coast flat.
While the others organised trolleys for luggage, I returned the car to the hire company and joined them as Scott's bus started boarding. He stood awkwardly, trying to delay the goodbye, and I could tell that Ty was feeling sad too. I held out my arms and Scott threw himself at me.
"See ya mate," I whispered. "Have a safe trip. We'll talk soon and get your trip organised. There's a lot I want to say to you, but I'll just leave it at thanks for letting me be part of your life. You'll never know what you've given me, and I love you for it."
Scott squeezed me tight and said, "I love you Mike. Really. Thanks for being there for me."
George stepped forward and held out his hand. "Oh come on, George," Scott laughed. "No hug?"
George paused only momentarily before embracing Scott, and wishing him a safe journey home.
"You know what George," Scott grinned. "Your cooking's fucking awesome! And for an old bloke, you're pretty fuckin' cool!"
George chuckled. "You bet your fuckin' ass I am, young Mr. Hill," he said.
And then all that was left was the brothers' farewell. They stood and looked at each other for a few moments, before Scott suddenly and unexpectedly started to cry.
Ty's face dropped and he reached out for his youngest brother. "Come here, asshole!" he said, tears welling in his own eyes as they hugged like there might be no tomorrow. "Mate, it's been great having you around. It always is. Take care, give mum and dad a hug for me." The feeling these brothers had for each other was palpable.
Scott could only nod, so choked was he at the thought of parting. He picked up his hand luggage and took the first step on to the bus. He paused and turned, tears streaming down his face, and looked straight at his brother. "I love you Ty," was all he said before he disappeared down the aisle.
As the bus pulled out, I noticed a liveried driver standing patiently holding a sign for `Mr Stewart', the name in which I'd made the booking for George's ride back to the Gold Coast. I gave Ty a quick hug and steered him and George towards the man with the sign, to George's great surprise.
I shook hands with the driver, whose nametag read "Gus" and introduced him to George, who could only look at me in bewilderment. "The bus is for kids, George," I chuckled. "Gus will drive you home."
I wanted to avoid any more wretching scenes, so I gave George a quick hug and thanked him profusely for looking after us so well, assuring him we'd be in touch as soon as we knew what was happening about Sydney. Ty stepped up next and reinforced everything I'd said and we both felt good as we watched while George had a car door opened for him for a change. Watching him drive off and wave from the back seat, I was reminded briefly of the final scene of "Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte".
I put my arm around Ty's shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "It's OK, mate" I assured him.
After dropping off our luggage and checking in for our flights, Ty and I headed for the Business Class lounge, with only one stop for an autograph along the way. The nice thing about first and business class lounges is that the people who use them generally don't stare at famous people, or bother them in any way. I could see that some people recognised Ty as soon as we walked in, but they quickly went back to their reading. I scanned the room and noticed a well-known soapie actress and a stand up comedian from Adelaide, so he wasn't on his own this time.
We grabbed a couple of coffees and a plate of assorted fruit and cheeses and found ourselves a quiet spot to sit. Ty had a two hour wait before his Sydney flight was called, and I had 90 minutes before my plane departed for Melbourne.
Once I'd finished my coffee, I wandered off to the gents for a leak and realised when I was in there that the adjoining room had several enclosed showers with all the necessary amenities. I high-tailed it back to where Ty was seated and leaned over and suggested that he might like to have a shower.
Ever the innocent, he looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, "But we had a shower already?"
I rolled my eyes. "I know, mate," I said with a grin. "But I'd like to check for myself to make sure you're really, really clean."
The good thing about Ty is, he catches on fast. He jumped up and headed for the men's room and I waited a few minutes before following him. I found him waiting, and fortuitously there was nobody else around. We stripped quickly, stuffed our clothes in a locker, grabbed some towels and disappeared into the lockable cubicle housing the generously-sized shower.
"So, you wanted to check if I was clean?" Ty smirked.
"Nah, I already know you're clean!" I laughed. "That was just an excuse to lure you in here so I could suck your dick."
I turned the shower on, grabbed a tube of complimentary shower gel and went to work on Ty's hot body, soaping him all over and making sure no nook or cranny of his mesmerising physique was overlooked. Within seconds his cock, which was chubbed to begin with, had shot to full mast and it bobbed between our bodies like a buoy in the ocean during a storm. I teased it for a while, running my gel-slicked hand up and down its length before squatting and swallowing his swollen head. I sucked softly for a few seconds and then began a slow milking massage using just my lips.
Ty groaned, trying to be as quiet as he could, and then placed his hands on either side of my head and slid his man meat further into my mouth. I started to massage the top half of his shaft with my tongue before sliding all the way to the root and using my throat muscles to knead his stalk. Slowly, I pulled back up towards his cock head, swirling my tongue around him as I went, then swiftly dove back down until my nose was buried in his bush. I returned to the head once more before beginning my descent and this time I deep-throated him using a self-taught technique that I knew drove him wild. It worked every time, and he began to thrust himself deep into my mouth, forcing me to control my breathing; in on each upstroke and out again on the down stroke.
It was only a matter of moments before I felt the familiar swell that I knew signalled Ty's imminent release. The second I felt his first spurt of precum on my tongue, I lunged forward and took him all the way down my throat as he held my head tightly and emptied himself into my oesophagus. As his legs gave way, I released him and he slid down the tiled wall of the shower and landed on his ass, smirking at me with the goofy grin I love so much.
When he'd recovered he held out his arm and I pulled him to his feet. He kissed me hard to the lips before turning me around and, with his soft cock nestled between my ass cheeks, he soaped my chest and stomach and with slippery hands encircled my rampant dick and stroked me to an earth-shattering orgasm, jet after jet of pent-up man milk splattering the tiles. I leaned back into him to catch my breath and he nibbled my earlobe.
We shut off the shower, kissed again, before Ty exited the shower first. He had towelled himself dry by the time I emerged; luckily, we were still the sole occupants of the shower room. As Ty dressed, I dried myself and threw my clothes back on. We disposed of our wet towels, checked each other for telltale signs and then, a couple of minutes apart, left the bathroom and returned to the business class lounge.
We had time for another coffee and something light to eat before my flight to Melbourne was announced. I so wanted to kiss Ty goodbye but in such a public space it was out of the question. We did the quick embrace and as I turned to exit the lounge I said "I'll be home first. Call me as soon as you're at the apartment." He nodded, and checking to see nobody was watching, mouthed "I love you".
He needn't have done it; I knew already. Glad he did, though ...
My flight home to Melbourne was comfortable but uneventful, although as we began out descent we hit turbulence and things got rocky for about 20 minutes. Business class has its advantages, but it certainly is the great leveller when it comes to difficult landings.
After collecting my luggage I jumped into a cab and headed home. It felt strange to be back in Melbourne, even though I'd only been away for six months. The city seemed so noisy and congested after the tranquillity and isolation of the Sunshine Coast hinterland.
My apartment, once my pride and joy, seemed dark and confined after we'd spent so much time in a bright, spacious and sunny environment. I opened the balcony doors to let in some fresh air and unpacked my suitcases. Unsure of what to do next, I went for a quick run around the park opposite, strolled to the local convenience store to pick up a few supplies and headed home. I put Ty's new `Hill Songs' album in the CD player, cranked it up loud and poured myself a Pinot Noir. I was just whipping up an omelette when my mobile rang. It was my guy!
"Hey mate!" I enthused. "How was your flight?"
"It was OK," he said, sounding a little subdued. "Man, I miss you."
"Yeah, I miss you too. The apartment seems kinda empty without your mess! What's your place like?"
"It's OK. Vince did well. It's pretty big and it's got water views. And a big bed that's gonna feel awfully lonely."
We chatted for a while, talked through our plans for the week ahead, including my meeting on Monday with the senior partner to discuss my possible relocation to Sydney. We ended the call saying smoochy things to one another, as only guys who are truly in love can do without sounding pitiful.
I had my omelette and a second glass of wine as I watched the TV news and then turned in for the night. I was comforted to find that I could smell Ty's cologne on the bedding, although it made me miss him more.
I spent Sunday preparing for the working week ahead and going over my spiel for the senior partner. When Monday morning dawned, it felt odd to be back in a suit and tie, but I was pleased to note that despite George's cooking, everything still seemed to fit OK.
I had an early start and after half an hour of "Hi Mike, how was the holiday?" and catching up on everyone's news, I was back in work mode in a hurry. I was briefed by two colleagues to bring me up to speed with works in progress and before I knew it, my 11 o'clock meeting with the senior partner was upon me.
Behind closed doors, I laid my cards on the table and found him hard to read. He asked all the right questions, including why and when, and then went into a long ramble about the need for someone in Melbourne with my specialist skills in contract law. I countered by assuring him that Zac Hawkes, the company's newest junior partner, was more than capable of stepping up to the plate. He surprised me by asking me if I'd have lunch with him?
He made a booking at Café Florentine in the city and I couldn't help but wonder whether this might be an expensive golden handshake. Turns out I couldn't have been more wrong. His reason for the heart-to-heart away from the office was to try to suss out whether I was preparing to fly the coop. I reassured him that I was committed to the company 100 percent, but just needed a change of scenery. I smiled when he casually asked if it had "something to do with a girl?" I gave him the obligatory blokey wink and said, "Yeah, there's someone special up there, but it's more to do with just wanting to spread my wings a bit. Always wanted to live in Sydney."
He asked me to leave it with him for a couple of days while he squared things off with the other senior partners but, from his point of view, he couldn't see any major problem and suggested I might start looking for somewhere to live. Back at the office, I was desperate to ring Ty and fill him in, but I was continually interrupted and had to wait until I got home to finally make the call.
Ty sounded thrilled and relieved at the same time. "Mate, that's fantastic!," he exclaimed. "Fuck, I can't wait until we can find a place and I'll have you all to myself."
We talked excitedly about the logistics of a move and how it might work with the hectic media schedule confronting him in the next two weeks. I reassured him that I'd have some time to pack up my apartment and have the furniture moved to Sydney. Until we found a place of our own, I'd stay with him in the serviced apartment Vince had organised for him.
The phone call finished on a high, both of us eagerly looking forward to sharing a life together – a new beginning in a city neither of us had lived in before.
The week ahead passed swiftly for both of us. I had back-to-back meetings most days and was thrown head- first into a fierce legal battle between two major record companies over who owned the rights to unreleased demo tracks by a recording artist who was signed to one of them and who had since started making a name for herself.
Ty's media schedule was also underway and I managed to catch most of his television appearances. He performed "Angels On High" on one of the breakfast programs and on two other prime-time evening shows. He was faultless each time. I didn't always have the chance to hear his radio interviews if they went to air during the working day but in most cases I could hear them as podcasts online after work. We were still able to talk on the phone each evening, although sometimes the call was very late.
By the end of that first week back in the office my transfer to Sydney had been approved and I celebrated by buying a bottle of Moet et Chandon Grand Vintage 2002, pouring two glasses and calling Ty to give him the good news. He was over the moon, as I was, and we laughed at the fact that "we" were celebrating with me drinking both glasses. By the end of that long, late night call, I was half shot from bubbles!
The following Monday was significant for two reasons. Ty's single "Angels On High", the first taste of his forthcoming sophomore album Hill Songs' was officially released, and within 24 hours had become one of the most-added tracks on contemporary radio playlists nationwide. And Adam, the real estate agent I'd given the task of finding the perfect' Sydney property for us had called, with a shortlist of three `must see' properties.
When Ty and I next spoke, I could tell he was anxious about the success of the single; being added by so many stations was an encouraging sign of course, but more important was its chart debut which wouldn't be known until the following Sunday night ahead of the official news being announced on Monday morning. We talked about the property inspections and agreed that it would difficult for Ty to and check them out, especially in the middle of such a hectic media campaign. Vince would have helped out but not having seen our Sunshine Coast rental property, he wouldn't really know what we were looking for. And there was always the question of Vince's taste ...
The only realistic option was for me to fly to Sydney on Saturday, check all three properties, stay with Ty in his temporary apartment for the night, wait around with him for news of his debut chart position and then fly back to Melbourne very early Monday morning in time for work. It was a lot to pack in to two days but so worth it; I'd see my bloke again! For the rest of the day I tried not to think about what we'd do to each other the first moment we were alone.
On Friday night, I ordered take out, drank some beers, packed my suitcase and had an early night after a quick chat with Ty on the phone. Early Saturday morning, I hightailed it to the airport, caught my flight to the harbour city and headed straight for Ty's apartment. He'd sent me a text telling me where to collect the key. I dropped my luggage off and called the local agent whom Adam had arranged to show me the three properties. He suggested I meet him at his office and he'd drive me to each address, so I called a cab and headed over the bridge into the city.
The three houses Adam had handpicked for me were in Rose Bay, Vaucluse and Point Piper. The first property my 20-something guide Brandon showed me was in Vaucluse, an old, leafy residential suburb noted for its fine homes and gardens. It was named after Vaucluse House, a prime example of a wealthy family's residence at the time it was built in the early 1800s. For many years it was one of Sydney's most affluent suburbs and as my talkative driver pointed out, is still in the city's top five. Located on the South Head peninsula, the property Brandon pulled up outside was on the Sydney Harbour side of the suburb and as I was soon to find out, offered commanding views of the bridge. It was set behind a high brick fence with security gates, and from the outside it was certainly impressive.
What let it down was its interior. It had a certain majesty about it, great views and many of the features we were looking for; an imposing master bedroom, spacious kitchen and balconies overlooking the water. But the décor and fittings were too ornate for my taste and I knew Ty would feel the same way. A little stately for our purposes, more the sort of home a much older aristocratic couple might appreciate for frequent entertaining.
I thanked Brandon for letting me see it but let him know it wasn't right. Next stop was Watsons Bay, which is connected to Vaucluse on the ocean side by a cliffside walking track which passes the South Head signal station built in 1848 to communicate with shipping about to enter Sydney Harbour.
The track ends at HMAS Watson, a naval reserve which occupies the headland and is 'off limits'. But there is access to Camp Cove, just inside South Head where Captain Arthur Phillip first stepped ashore in Sydney Harbour after sailing north from Botany Bay with the First Fleet.
It is another suburb that provides spectacular views of the harbour and the house Adam had picked was again a haven of privacy, set well back behind a high wall with all the right security elements in place. The residence itself showed more promise than the previous one and again, it was spacious and grand, but I found the rooms were all a little too ... pokey. The master bedroom was a reasonable size but the others were far too small. There were two smallish lounge rooms and a small dining room, where I'd have preferred one large space. Knocking walls out wasn't an option in a rental property, so we would be stuck with it, as is. Brandon appeared to understand my misgivings but I'm sure he, like me, was beginning to despair that we'd be getting anywhere today.
I was almost halfhearted about seeing the final property in Point Piper, again one of Sydney's most exclusive residential suburbs and home to the city branch of the Royal Motor Yacht Club. I was beginning to suspect that Adam had completely misunderstood my detailed overview of what we wanted in a home.
Brandon felt the need to forewarn me that Point Piper is almost an enclave, and was hesitant to let me know it has no commercial area and few amenities or public facilities. I saw that as a plus, especially as it borders the upmarket suburbs of Rose Bay, Bellevue Hill and Double Bay which offered everything we could ever want in the outside world.
My doubts about Adam dissipated the moment I was inside the magnificent property I was shown on Wolseley Road. Feeling more confident by now, Brandon went on to tell me that the combined value of the homes on the waterfront section of the road was more than $700 million and that many of Sydney's top businessmen, doctors and judges would be our neighbours.
But it was the actual house that roped me in. The owners obviously had impeccable taste and had spent a lot of money making their multi-million dollar property look relaxing and informal. It had been extensively renovated and smaller rooms had been turned into large spaces, much like the house on the Coast we'd recently vacated; and it was painted in similar neutral tones.
The master bedroom was enormous with a granite and glass bathroom large enough to hold a ball, and there were five additional large bedrooms, three of which had stunning water views. The kitchen was a gourmet chef's dream come true, plus there were open fireplaces, expansive balconies and even a small theatrette. Brandon assured me that the panoramic views could never be built out, and was quick to steer me to the secluded waterfront pool and hot tub.
I fell in love with it almost immediately, but tried to look nonchalant in front of Brandon in the hope that he might feel inclined to negotiate the rental down. I told him I was vaguely interested and would perhaps like to bring the other party who'd be sharing with me through for a look on our own. Brandon saw no problem in arranging for me to have a key overnight, but cautiously brought up the expected rental price. I'm sure I visibly paled when he mentioned the amount but at least I didn't gasp. I casually mentioned that I would be expecting Adam to negotiate on our behalf, particularly seeing we had excellent references and would be setting up direct debit for monthly payments and paying three months ahead.
I tried to invent flaws in the property to sprinkle into our conversation on the drive back to Brandon's office, and I knew that by the time we got there and he'd given me a key, he had his doubts. In the safety of the cab back to Ty's apartment, I called and left him a voicemail on his mobile promising him I'd just been shown paradise on earth.
I'd only been inside Ty's apartment for a short time when my mobile rang and instead on Ty on the end of the line I heard Vince. He'd rung to let me know that Ty had a filmed interview early the following morning in Newcastle with an independent producer to be used in an upcoming `The Making Of Hill Songs' DVD, and he'd made the decision to have Ty stay there overnight to avoid having to leave Sydney at 4a.m. He sensed my disappointment and apologised, but assured me he'd have Ty back in Sydney by late morning.
There was nothing I could do but accept the decision, so I wandered around until I found a quiet bistro, had a meal and a couple of beers and returned to the apartment to watch TV before falling into a frustrated sleep. I want to celebrate my upcoming move to Sydney, the release of his single and the probability that we'd be hobnobbing in Point Piper before too long. And I want him inside me so bad, I could have bitten myself and drawn blood ...
I woke early the next morning, showered, dressed and wandered around the city until I found a small deli. Over coffee and a croissant, I watched the passing parade of tourists eager to fit in as much sightseeing as possible in this largest and most populated of Australian cities.
With nothing much to do on a Sunday morning in the city, I went back to the apartment and took stock. It was obvious that without me and George around, Ty had reverted to his messy ways. Clothes in piles on the bedroom and bathroom floors, pizza boxes and take away Chinese food containers in the living room and kitchen, and precious little in the fridge. I threw myself into the cleanup, starting with a couple of loads of washing; bedding first and then clothes. I opened windows and the balcony doors to get some air flow happening, and vacuumed the carpets. I stacked the dishwasher with unwashed dishes and glasses and cleaned the kitchen thoroughly.
I mopped the bathroom floor and cleaned the basin and vanity, replaced the towels and wiped down all the surfaces in the living area before sorting and stacking the sheet music strewn around Ty's portable keyboard in the corner.
Next, stocking the fridge. I binned the rubbish and took it downstairs before hitting the street again. I asked directions to the nearest supermarket, a couple of blocks away. I wandered around grabbing the basics first; milk, bread, margarine, preserves, tea and coffee, before picking fruit, vegetables and a few `heat and serve' meals that wouldn't challenge Ty unduly. A few deli items, some beer and wine, and I was done.
It was a struggle carrying so many grocery bags two blocks back to the apartment but I eventually got there and set about putting it all away. I'd just about finished when Vince called. There'd been a delay and they wouldn't now be back until late afternoon. I tried not to sound too let down as I reminded Vince that I wanted to show Ty through the Point Piper property.
"Don't worry mate," Vince assured me. "I'll have him back in time to check out the love nest!"
The delay gave me time to dry the bedding and remake the bed, and to get most of Ty's clothes dry and hung up. Ty called me about 4pm to let me know he and Vince were on the F3, about 20 minutes from Sydney. I suggested to save time, Vince should cut across to Point Piper and I'd meet them at the house. I gave him the address and called a cab.
I was waiting at the gates when Vince and Ty pulled up and Ty was out of the car and wrapped around me within seconds. When Vince joined us he rolled his eyes and groaned, "If you two were mine, I'd have you neutered!" Surprisingly, Vince gave me a hug instead of his usual formal handshake.
It was obvious from the start that Ty loved the property as much as I did. His enthusiasm grew as we wandered from room to room and he made suggestions about how each space could be utilised and where things like his piano and keyboards would be best suited. Even Vince was impressed. He asked about the monthly rental and when I told him he let out a low whistle. "Someone's gonna need a hit album!" he chuckled.
After a while Vince started getting restless. He had a hot date and didn't want to be late, so we told him to go. We'd look around some more and call a cab when we were ready to leave.
Alone at last, Ty cornered me in the master bedroom's en suite and kissed me, hard and lovingly. "Fuck I've missed you Mike," he panted, as his hands roamed my body.
"I've missed you too, mate," I chuckled. "Done nothing but blow my own horn since I got back to Melbourne!"
We took one more look around before locking up and calling a cab. We were almost back in the centre of the city when we heard "Angels On High" on the taxi's radio, and Ty grinned and squeezed my knee. I smiled to myself at the sight of the cab driver looking in his rear vision mirror trying to working it out; "it sure looks like him ...?"
Ty leaned forward and instructed the driver to drop us at a small Italian restaurant just a block from his apartment. I looked at him questioningly and he said, "I found this great little trattorium and thought we might grab a bite first," he enthused, before adding sheepishly, "Haven't got much food at the apartment, it's a bit of a mess."
I didn't have the heart to tell him it was a `trattoria', and decided to let the apartment clean-up be a surprise. The food was surprisingly good. Because it was his "find", I let Ty do the ordering for both of us; we shared a plate of fresh tagliatelle with lobster, zucchini and tomato, and a simple salad of bocconcini, sweet corn, carrots and olives. We'd just ordered a dessert of vanilla affogato with zabaione when Ty's mobile rang. It was Vince ringing with the exciting news that the ARIA chart released in the morning would show "Angels On High" debuting at Number 2!
It broke Ty's string of three chart-topping debuts in a row, having been kept from the top spot by Jennifer Lopez's "On The Floor", but Ty's enthusiasm wasn't dampened and nor, from the sound it, was Vince's. They chatted excitedly for a couple of minutes before Ty disconnected and high-fived me. He was grinning from ear to ear.
"Mate," he gushed, "it's not an anthem this time! The fans like the new stuff!"
I congratulated him again as we quickly ate the dessert. "Come on mate, let's go," he said, throwing some bills on the table.
As we made our way back to the apartment, I asked Ty if we should pick up some champagne to celebrate?
"Nah, I can think of a better way to celebrate," he laughed. "And I'll still get to pop my cork!"
We were barely behind the apartment's closed front door before Ty was manoeuvring me into the bedroom, discarding his clothes and removing mine has he went. Within seconds we were naked and Ty was on top of me, covering me with urgent kisses. This, I quickly realised, was not going to be a long and languid lovemaking session but hey, was I complaining?
With just a little spit, he positioned me to allow himself full access and as he licked me from my Adam's apple to my chin, the head of his cock entered me and he stopped, his guttural groan letting me know how much he'd missed this feeling. Despite my own desperate need, I fought the urge to grab his ass and pull him fully into me; I was happy for him to take control.
He moved slowly until he'd reached the half way point, and then desire took over and he plunged into me the rest of the way, taking my breath away.
Once I'd adjusted to his unyielding thickness, my clutching ass muscles welcomed him home. It took him only a moment to locate my magic spot and it was my turn to moan. My cock leaked precum that pooled on my stomach and it frustrated Ty that the position he had me in made it impossible for him to bend far enough forward to reach my glans with his tongue. Instead, I ran my finger through the puddle on my stomach and raised my finger to his mouth. He sucked at it eagerly, kissed me hungrily, cranked his body into overdrive and fucked me without mercy.
His own copious precum had lubricated my rectum and ensured a smooth ride as Ty plunged into me with unbridled hunger, resting his head next to my ear and panting my name over and over. Feeling his ball sac slapping against me insistently, I lowered my hand and massaged his tightly-wound cods, and that was the beginning of the end. Steadying himself on one elbow, he reached down and grabbed my leaking prick and as he growled his release into my ear and flooded me with a torrent of his baby gravy, three strokes had me erupting like Krakatoa. The first blast hit Ty just above his upper lip and his tongue automatically darted out and scooped it into his mouth, while the rest of my load covered both of our chests.
Ty collapsed on top of me and with him still swollen inside me, I enjoyed the intimacy of wrapping my arms around him and stroking his back and ass. When he finally raised himself off me, he rolled onto his back and exhaled, "Fuck that was great!"
"Agreed mate! It was Number One in my book!" a lame reference to Ty's debut at Number Two in the charts.
Ty turned his head, looked at me and laughed, "That's pretty bad, even by my standards!"
It was business as usual when we woke the next morning. Ty was on the phone, taking congratulatory calls from his record company, his publicist and the usual crew. He squeezed in calls to his Mum and Dad and Scott to give them the good news, and – a touching gesture – took a call from Simon who wished him well with the album. While he talked, I showered and dressed, packed my bags and ate some fruit before kissing my guy goodbye and hopping into a cab.
I stopped briefly at Brandon's office to drop off the key and was pleased to hear that Adam had managed to negotiate the monthly rent on the Point Piper property down by $600. From there, I dropped into the Sydney office of the law firm I worked for, to do a quick meet-and-greet before heading to the airport and home.
The next three weeks flew by in a blur. Stage two of Ty's media schedule kicked in and paid off for him, with "Angels On High" reaching Number One in its second week of release. Yo! Take that, J-Lo!
Every time I picked up a newspaper or magazine, there he was, sharing his thoughts on everything from cooking (yeah, right!) to tips for kids who want a career in music. I had to laugh when I left the office one evening to find the huge billboard atop the building opposite, which normally advertised shower gel, had been replaced by a monster-sized poster heralding the impending arrival of `Hill Songs'. Every time I left the office for the next fortnight, there he'd be, smiling down on me.
My own time was divided between finalising my work in the Melbourne office, packing up my apartment in readiness for the removalists, and checking in regularly with the decorator I'd hired to deck out the Point Piper property with furnishings I'd bought online. I'd also called George and filled him on all the news, giving him the time he required to finish up at Grand Apartments and get organized to be in Sydney a week after me.
The end of the month rolled around before I knew it and the following weekend would be my last in Melbourne. My apartment had been cleared and handed over to a Melbourne agent to lease on my behalf, and all my goods and chattels were on their way to the harbour city, along with my car. An office farewell had been organized for the Friday night and it was hard to say goodbye to the group of people who'd become good friends and colleagues over the years, but I stayed focused on the positives; a work challenge in a new city, and the chance for Ty and me finally to be together on a permanent basis. Just how life had dealt me such a winning hand I had no idea, but I chose not to question it.
Before I knew it, I was on a Saturday morning flight to Sydney where I collected my car from storage, drove to Brandon's office to sign the lease officially, picked up the keys and remote controls for our new home, and went directly to Wolseley Road. This time, I zapped the gates and drove up the driveway into our four car garage. Inside, I wandered around marvelling at the job the decorator had done and noting the few small changes I'd make. She'd even filled the vases with huge bunches of fresh flowers, giving the main rooms a burst of colour. (The floral displays would doubtless be tacked on to her bill, but I appreciated the gesture).
While Ty was in Adelaide on the first leg of his promotional tour of the country, doing local radio interviews, making in-store appearances and signing autographs for fans, I spent the weekend unpacking our individual belongings and began setting up the house so it was at least liveable in the short term.
I rang Scott at home in Stanthorpe and after a good catch-up, I told him all about new home in Point Piper, which I hoped he'd visit before setting off overseas, and asked him to help me with two things; I needed him to liaise with and be home for the piano transporters I had arranged to pick up Ty's beloved second-hand Steinway, and to do the same for the collection of Scruffy, as a surprise for Ty on his return from his promo tour.
The following Monday I rocked up to work and got my office organised. I had just one day to get things the way I like them before the working week kicked in and I was up and running with clients after being briefed on who was who and what was what. Each night, I'd do a little more around the house; making beds, organising closets or setting up the kitchen, before ending the evening with a long phone chat with Ty. By the time the weekend came there was still a lot to be done, but it was looking reasonable enough for George's arrival.
It was great to see the old guy strolling through the arrivals gate at Sydney Airport, and the smile on his face when he found me. He was looking relaxed and happy and after a welcoming hug, I commented on how well he seemed to be walking.
"Quite, sir," he agreed. "I'm not in any pain at all, thanks to you and Mr. Hill."
On the way to the baggage carousel, George explained that he'd decided to lease his Gold Coast flat fully furnished and that he'd only brought with him his clothes and personal possessions. And of course, Floppy, who was to be picked up from a different area in the terminal after we'd collected his luggage. For someone who was `travelling light', George had a remarkable amount of suitcases and we needed two trolleys to accommodate them all. George explained he'd bought some of his favourite pots and pans from home, having found some of the "newfangled appliances" on the Sunshine Coast too hard to handle.
We left the trolleys with the valet parking attendant to load into my car while we went off to the Livestock Transport Facility to pick up George's cherished Ragdoll. We were made to wait for quite a while, but eventually a man approached us carrying the cat cage housing a slightly woozy Floppy. It was touching to see how George fussed over her, and he insisted on carrying her to the car where she sat in her cage on his lap. The sedative she'd been given before the flight from Coolangatta had mostly worn off and Floppy was not a happy pussy! Low growling noises accompanied our drive to Point Piper and try as he might, George was unable to calm her.
When we eventually pulled into the driveway, George commented on the size and position of the house and while I unloaded his cases, he fussed some more over the cat. I wondered whether Floppy was in fact going to prove high maintenance and, more importantly, how she'd take to Ty's dog Scruffy when the old boy finally arrived to take up residence. I mentioned it to George who assured me that once Floppy was familiar in her new surroundings she would be true to her Ragdoll nature, placid and affectionate. I only hoped Scruffy had a similar temperament.
Leaving Floppy to sulk in her cage, I took George on a tour of the house, which he clearly loved. He commented more than once on its size, which reminded me to assure him that I'd arranged cleaners to come in on a weekly basis, so that his duties were confined to cooking, washing and light household chores. I also let him known that Ty and I had organised a direct debit for his salary to be paid monthly into the account he'd nominated.
I showed George his bedroom which I'd set up as best I could and after delivering his suitcases, left him to unpack and settle in, with a caged Floppy on the floor next to his bed, still making her displeasure known.
A couple of hours later George emerged and told me that he'd shut his door and let Floppy out of her cage to wander around his room. I suggested that perhaps we secure the whole house and leave her to her reconnoitre while we drove to the supermarket to stock up on everything we might need in the next couple of weeks.
By the time we'd finished in the supermarket two hours had gone by and my wallet was several hundred dollars lighter. We spent a further hour and a half at the delicatessen, the butcher, the green grocer and the bottle shop. By the time we arrived home and unloaded our shopping, we found Floppy sitting comfortably on the couch and the moment she saw George she was, as he'd promised, docile and affectionate, rubbing herself against his legs and purring. He immediately picked the grocery bag with all the pet food supplies and gave her a treat.
Having George around meant getting the house in order was no longer something I needed to think about, and I was able to focus fully on my work in the new offices and learn how to get around Sydney without turning into one of their many confounded one-way streets. It was a pleasure to arrive home each evening to one of George's superb meals, and while I was missing Ty like crazy, it was great to have some company.
By the time the second week kicked off, the house looked like we'd been living in it for years. On Monday, Ty's piano had arrived and George oversaw its placement in the area we'd made into Ty's music room. Later the same day the piano tuner I'd organised turned up and got the piano sounding its best.
The following day, I left work a couple of hours early and drove to the airport's Livestock Transport Facility to pick up Scruffy who, I quickly realised, lived up to his name! He was caged when I signed for him but Scott had made sure his collar, lead and sleeping mat accompanied the cage, so as soon as we were outside the terminal I opened the cage and collared him. It didn't seem to bother him that he'd not met me before, he was instantly my best friend, licking me and wagging his tail and trying his hardest to jump at me. All the way home he sat in the back seat with his head out of the window, enjoying the breeze.
Scruffy was just as happy to see George, who had food and treats waiting for him, and he took a wander around the house sniffing everything he could. He seemed to instinctively know Ty's belongings from his master's scent. There was a few tense minutes when Scruffy met Floppy, but once the hissing stopped, Floppy seemed to settle and George and I realised they were going to get along just fine.
Mid-week, Ty called me at work to let me know he'd be home early Friday evening and, in true Hill brothers style, he asked the one question I was waiting for.
"Man, I'm sick of hotel food," he whined. "What's for dinner Friday night?"
"Anything you like, mate!" I laughed.
"You think you could talk George into doing a full roast, using my Mum's gravy recipe?"
"I reckon that can be arranged! And how about dessert?"
"You even have to ask?"
"Got ya!" I chuckled.
By Friday afternoon at the office, I found myself clock-watching, waiting for the working day to end so I could see Ty. Together - at last – in our own place! The record company had arranged a car and a driver to pick Ty up so there was no need for me to drive to the airport. Instead, I helped George with the dinner preparation and set the table on the main balcony.
Just before seven, the doorbell rang and George and I looked at one another in surprise, before I realised that Ty didn't yet have his own key. George followed me to the door and when I opened it, Ty dropped his suitcases and grabbed me, pulling me into a bear hug before bending me backwards Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers-style and planting a wet one on my lips.
When he let me up for air he turned to George who jumped in with, "Not with my hip you don't, Mr Hill! A simple hug will do."
They embraced and Ty said "Gee it's good to see you George!"
"Welcome home, sir" George replied, before picking up Ty's two cases and depositing them in our bedroom. Ty walked in with me and started to look around.
"Mike, the place looks fantastic," he raved. "This stuff is all great. I love what you've done!"
"Can't take all the credit, mate" I chuckled. "The decorator did a fair bit of it."
I showed him the rooms I wanted him to see first, ending with his music room which, thanks to George, was looking great, especially with Ty's many gold and platinum awards for `Love On The Rocks' and its three singles hanging on the walls.
Ty's jaw dropped when he saw his piano. "Mate, how the fuck did you get my piano here?"
I filled him in on the details as he sat and played a few chords. "You had it tuned too??"
"Yep. The tuner reckons it's a beauty."
Ty walked over to me and hugged me again. "Mate, I just don't know what to say. You're just ..."
"Yeah I know!" I grinned. "Save it for later!"
I steered him back to the lounge area where George had left an ice bucket and wine, along with peanuts and pretzels. We sat on the couch and drank a toast to our new home and I waited until Ty was comfortable and relaxed.
"I've got another surprise!" I smiled.
"Another one?"
"Surprise time!" I called out to George in the kitchen.
The door opened and in darted Scruffy, tail wagging ninety to the dozen.
"SCRUFFY!!" Ty exclaimed, leaping up and dropping to the floor to cuddle his beloved mutt. As they rolled on the carpet, Scruffy licked Ty's face and whimpered. I couldn't recall a time I'd seen Ty happier.
"I've missed you boy," he repeated over and over, as he rubbed Scruffy's tummy and kissed his face. Jumping up again, Ty grabbed me and kissed me, and then grabbed George and planted one on him as well. Ty was about to speak when he heard an unmistakable `meow'. Looking down, he saw Floppy, who'd wandered in to see what all the fuss was about.
"Ty, meet Floppy," I said, as Floppy rubbed herself against Ty's shins and was rewarded with a pat.
"So they get on then?" Ty asked, looking from Scruffy to Floppy.
"Yeah. Floppy wasn't so sure at first, but they're cool now. Best of mates!"
George suggested it was time for Ty to wash up before dinner and when he returned from the bathroom, I was waiting for him at the balcony table, which was set for the three of us. I refreshed our wines just as George appeared with dinner, Ty's plate piled the highest with roast lamb, potatoes, pumpkin, peas and beans. He returned with a gravy boat filled with Mrs Hill's no longer secret sauce. The plate had hardly touched the table before Ty started in, and before George and I were even half way through our serves, Ty was heading for the kitchen to scrounge seconds.
Over another wine, we talked for a while about Ty's promotional tour and how I was fitting in at the Sydney office. George excused himself and returned with bowls of vanilla ice cream smothered in sauce.
Ty make quick work of it and commented that the sauce tasted of caramel, and was much better than the stuff he normally bought in a squeeze bottle from the supermarket.
"I made it for Scott when we were on the Coast, sir," George said. "He seemed to like it so I made it again."
"What's it called?"
"I didn't think to give it a name, sir," George replied. "But your brother called it `Fuckin' Ace Topping' so I guess that's what it's called."
Once our meal had settled, Ty and I moved to the lounge room and were about to sit on the couch when George cleared his throat. "It's getting late, sir," George addressed Ty.
"But it's only 9 o'clock, George," Ty shrugged.
"Yes I know sir, but after the flight and all, I thought you and Mr. Stewart might want to have one of your naps'. I've already hung the Do Not Disturb' sign on your door ..."
The smirk on Ty's face made my night ...
Ty and I spent a relaxing weekend, enjoying the house, walking along the not-so-private beach, eating whatever George put in front of us and of course, making love.
The following week was a busy one for me at the office with a royalty dispute and a contract breach to arbitrate, and Ty spent much of his time planning the set lists for his `Hill Songs' tour, which was only a few weeks from kicking off. He also discussed with Vince and the record company what the next single from the album would be, and they all agreed on "Open Letter To You".
We were both beat by Friday, and a late meeting meant I wasn't home until after eight. Ty had waited to eat dinner with me and despite the fact that the breeze had picked up, we again dined on the balcony. After tucking into one of George's mouth-watering pasta dishes, we were kicking back with a beer, looking forward to a lazy weekend.
When Ty went inside to take a leak, I leaned against the balcony railing, watching the waves ripple under the stars. The wind had really started to blow and I was just about to pick up our glasses and move indoors when I heard, somewhere in the distance, what sounded like a wounded animal.
At first I thought a dog had been struck by a car on the roadway, but then the sickening thought hit me that perhaps something was wrong with Scruffy. I turned and opened the sliding door balcony door and stepped into the lounge, only to find to my abject horror that the wailing was coming from Ty, who had collapsed on the floor on his knees, his mobile phone discarded nearby. In his distress he was completely incoherent and his sobs were bone-chilling.
"Ty!" I shouted. "Ty! What's wrong?"
He was bawling, but making an effort to formulate words. Despite myself, I was rooted to the spot in shock. "What is it?? Tell me!"
"Lachie," he sobbed. "Oh God. No ... no ..."
Panic consumed me. "What's wrong with Lachie? Ty, Jesus ... tell me ..."
"A fatal bomb blast ... in Oruzgan Province ..." he choked. "The police and the Department of Defence turned up at the farm half an hour ago ..."
Always happy to have your feedback. marcusis32@live.com.au