Boots

The return trip was a little odd, apart from having to initially get into a red-hot truck, Dillon seemed glum. When I arrived home I pulled up at his pathway to let him out.

“I’ll park and be over in a minute, get the shower running”, he exited.

When I arrived at his bathroom he stepped out from under the flow and stood to the left. I waved his wallet at him, and put it on the wash basin. The shower was excellent, nothing better than the beach, almost as good as washing the trip off.

As I dried he stepped back in and started lathering up. I dumped my towel and made for the bed. I was looking forward to an afternoon nap. Five minutes later I was joined by a steamy warm fuck boy, it was nice. Facing me I kissed him deeply, passionately and repeatedly. He kissed me back but there was, lack?

“What did you think of today?”, I asked curious as to what was going on.

“Confronting, frightening, embarrassing, reality focusing, worrying and then a little bit of fun”, he paused, “In that order”, he added. I kept quiet to see what else might emerge.

“I didn’t have any choice today, about anything”, he said with lament. “Full on nude, leashed, everybody cruising past to look at my junk, spoken about as a pet, almost like I wasn’t there”, he had his head down now.

“Anything else?”, I asked using his chin to raise his eyes. He shook his head no. I’d felt my tension rising and now needed a minute to see if I could settle. The pause didn’t seem to help.

“Well, you’re right, your choice wouldn’t be part of any plan. I wanted the beach, you leashed and on display. All the stuff you don’t get to think about. If I wanted to fuck you on the sand with a full audience, I would have done that too”, I said, speaking the truth quietly, but picking up heated speed.

“Thing is, there was no danger, no chance of harm and apart from the odd impolite stare, no one touched you or even spoke to you.” I tried another pause, “If they had, they would have had to deal with me, everyone knew it and kept their distance. That being said, after all that, you did make a choice”, he stared at me in question.

“At the end, you decided to actually enjoy yourself with Bill and Ted in the water”, I had mentally nick-named ‘One’ and ‘Two’. “Did you have fun or was that fake?”

“No, it was fun. I was really freaked about how they spoke to you like I wasn’t there, but yes, in the end it was good”, he half smiled, missing the degree of seriousness I was suppressing over his ingratitude.

“And, yet it was only at the end of the day you chose to have fun! What might have happened if you made that choice in the truck on the way to the beach?”, he looked at me in earnest, I had him thinking. “Look, you have no control over being nude or on being ‘dick out’ on display as a trophy. So, you could have felt good or bad about it, but it wasn’t going to change”, I stopped for a second to sit up a little. I took a deep breath.

“What if you’d laid there and thought, bloody hell I’m so fucken hot, look at these losers wishing they could be me, or fuck me. Christ! I’m blessed to have this body, this cock, this guy at my side who thinks I’m so special he wants the world to see I’m his”. I came to a halt, it all poured out with much more passion than I planned, this guy was seriously fucking with my head.

“I, I don’t think that”, he answered, “didn’t think like that”.

“I fucken know you didn’t”, I spat. Now I was openly stressed. “So, how about you have a fucken think about it now instead of whining like a girl who didn’t get kissed. This ‘balls to the wind’ stuff you do now, you wouldn’t have had the guts to do three months ago!” I stood and immediately started re-dressing, he went into shock. “I’m fucken outa here”, I grabbed my keys and stormed out. I was actually proud of myself that I didn’t slam the door, I was internally stunned at how annoyed I was.

When I got to the house I didn’t bother to go inside. I just jumped in the truck and headed to the pub. It was way too early to start drinking but I wasn’t in the mood to care.

 I woke up next morning on a couch I didn’t know, in an apartment I’d never seen before. My head was killing me. The one thing I was sure of was that I was as thirsty as fuck. I stumbled to my feet and went searching for water. I found a bathroom and decided that would do. After drinking a gallon directly from the tap, I paused to settle. In the mirror I saw that I was wearing a hi-vis work shirt, not mine and a size too small.

‘Jamie Cooper’ was printed above the breast pocket. Jamie was an electrician at work. He’d drink with the pub crew from time to time but he wasn’t an ‘every week’ regular.  How did I get here? I had zero memory of what I’d done and on top of it all, needed to vomit immediately. I did.

Sitting at Jamie’s breakfast bar ten minutes later he wandered in to the kitchen in his tighty-whities. Even in my sorry state I noted he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.
“Wow, look who’s up.” He said as he entered the room. “Fuck man you pulled a huge bender last night!” I groaned, he chuckled. “Want coffee?” He asked as he set about putting the kettle on.

“How come I’m wearing your shirt?” I croaked. He smiled.

“Somehow or other you managed to rip yours to shreds.” He replied.

 “This was all I had in the work truck” he said, gesturing in my general direction.

“What the fuck was I doing to have my shirt torn off?” I asked, now mortified.

“Just rough-house wrestling with the guys, no fights or stuff. Bar staff said you had to have a shirt or go home. We made do.”

“Thanks.” I added as the memories started to filter through.

Two hours into my private pity drinking session, Jamie and half a dozen others from work wandered in to the pub for a few pre-club beers. Invited to join, I was ready to party and drank to the point I couldn’t remember. Jamie had been more than a knight in shining armour, he’d rescued my drunken butt from god knows what. I owed him.

As my Sunday morning hangover hovered with a vengeance, I made my way home. Carefully aware I was probably still over the drink driving limit I bid Jamie goodbye and thanked him a dozen times. When I pulled in my driveway I went straight into the house and immediately to bed. I passed out. 

Through the afternoon, I was sure I heard the doorbell ring twice. On each occasion I woke from a knockout drug induced haze unsure if I was imagining things. I determined both times I still felt sick, I resumed my spent state, stayed in bed and fell asleep. 

When Monday morning arrived, I thanked god I was on the other side of yesterday. What a complete waste of a day off. I was still affected but nowhere near as bad as I had been. As I pulled on my boots a found a yellow post it note in one ‘can we talk?’ Dillon asked. I nodded to myself thinking I’d focus on that later and made a lethargic trip to site.

Morning smoko was one story after another about me being ‘drunk as a newt’. It had been years since I’d partied like that and the general consensus among the wider crew was, I was fucked up over a woman. I stayed mom but the team extracted maximum value out of my wipe out. It was good I could still cut it with the younger ones, I secretly thought.

When I arrived home, and parked in the drive I took out my carpenter’s pencil and scrawled a reply to Dillon. Two words designed to let me get to bed and get the weekend completely out of my system. ‘Not tonight’. I left it in my boot, zapped a frozen dinner and headed for the sack. Fuck I hated long hangovers.

The week moved along quickly. We had a major concrete pour which always gets everyone in management jumpy. On Friday night I joined the guys at the local for a meal and ale. I didn’t feel like getting wasted and took the opportunity to repay some of the home drop-offs I owed.

I pulled into my place later than normal, arriving around eleven thirty. I found the boots and laundry I’d left, gone. The space they’d engaged on my door step was now occupied by a naked, collared Dillon. My front door is out of sight to my neighbours so he wasn’t taking any risks, but his unexpected presence still gave me a ‘start’.

I walked in, making brief eye contact but didn’t say a word. After I entered I simply left the door open. As I headed to the kitchen he locked up, placed his folded gear on the floor in the passage and made his way in. I nodded towards the bedroom, he knew the layout.

“Shower”, I stated simply without a trace of up or down emotion. He exited and almost immediately I heard the water running. I stripped beside my bed and joined him in the bathroom. As he stepped out I took his place and washed the smoke of the pub from my skin. When I was done, I flicked the mixer back to cool, without being ice and grabbed the towel he handed me.

As I made myself comfortable in bed he appeared half a minute later. He was dry but clearly freezing. I held up the covers and he quickly scrambled in. He carefully tested the water seeing if he was allowed to snuggle into me. I took hold of him in a reverse bear hug and spooned his chilled body to my chest. Facing away from me he didn’t see I was tearing up, big fucken baby.

It didn’t take him long to get over his shivers and for us to start to generate warmth between us. I found that after a week of emotional stir, and the physical load of a concrete pour, I was exhausted. Within minutes I drifted to a deep and secure sleep.