Footprints - 4. Chapter 4

Hey Will just wanted to say I enjoyed the time with you

Hey u. I enjoyed it 2. Can’t seem 2 get u out of my mind.

I know the feeling hard to sleep

U hard???!!!

That too LOL can’t wait for tomorrow

Me 2. I wish I didn’t have to leave u this evening

I didn’t want you to go wanted to keep you

I didn’t wanna go. What u doing 2 me?

I dunno we doing this to ea other and I like

It’s a great feeling. I have butterflies in my tummy just thinking of u

Save some for tomorrow bro did you get into trouble for getting home so late?

Nope. I told them I spent some time at the club. They alright w that

Hope so I don’t want to get you into trouble

U won’t. I have it all down pat. Can’t wait 4 2morrow

Me too

I need 2 sleep

I can’t too much thinking of you

Sleep dude. I’ll see u soon. Maybe earlier than expected

Look forward to it. Nite nite

Nite nite hugs. Sleep tite.

You too. XXX

XxxxxxxxxX

The following morning is as crunchy as a chocolate wafer. Towards mid-morning, a thick cloak of heat and humidity drapes the shoreline. The smell of salt stabs the air oozing into everything; the rocks, clothing, hair and skin. Seagulls race and soar, glide and drift in a westerly direction as though on some great secret mission. Eventually they disappear.

It’s that time of year.

But you’ve forgotten.

Like clockwork he appears barefooted, wearing gym shorts and a white T, breathless as he engulfs you in his arms.

‘How is my favourite swimmer today?’

Catching his breath, he says, ‘Just fine. All the better for seeing you.’

‘Sorry about last night I was a pest, messaging you every five minutes.’

‘I loved every message you sent. Thank you. I slept like a baby.’

‘At least you could get some sleep. Too many butterflies in my tummy for sleep.’

Eventually you release him from your grip. ‘Shouldn’t you be wearing a wet suit for this?’

‘A wet suit? Nope. That’s for winter. But I’ve applied Vaseline to prevent chafing. Especially between my legs.’

‘You have no idea how that sounds by the way.’

His laughter peels along the beach. ‘Not for that. You’ve got a one track mind, mister,’ he says, kicking sand at you.

‘Guess I have.’

He removes his shirt and trousers. He wears a tight black costume. His thighs are muscular but lean. ‘Rub this on my back and neck will you?’

He puts a bottle of sunscreen in your hands and turns his back. The oil runs down his back and as you gently rub it over his shoulder blades and neck and lower back, you cannot fail to notice how smooth and hard his body his. If ever you have wanted a man badly, this is one that you will not allow to slip through your fingers. You finish the rub down and close the bottle and he places a note in your hand together with a stop watch.

‘What’s this note?’

‘It’s the qualifying times. I wrote them down for you. That’s what I’m expected to meet or beat in a few weeks in Australia.’

Breast-stroke Qualifying time = 1.00,86 (+.07) A level

B level = 1.02.99 (+.08)

All swimmers must meet the B time

Freestyle:

00.48,93 A

00.50,64 B

‘What are the figures in brackets?’

‘The difference between times A and B.’

‘You going to try to beat these times today?’

‘Nope.’

‘How do you do this? I mean, isn’t it agonising?’

‘Not really,’ he says. ‘Swimming in the sea is about stamina and strength. It’s easier in the sea because I don’t need to turn after every length like in a swimming pool, and there are no distractions or obstructions.’

‘One thing bothers me. How is it possible to compare swimming times in the surf with swimming times in a pool?’

‘There is no comparison. In the surf, you've got the movement of the water affecting times, and the density of sea water is different to the density of pool water. I just need a measurement for my own curiosity. For me this is all about stamina and strength. It takes time to adjust to a swim without guidelines or ropes and the weather may change in minutes. It's not a swimming pool. The cool thing about sea swimming is that an hour can feel like five minutes.’

‘Are you ready?’

‘More than ready.’

He runs into the waves and dives and suddenly he’s swinging arms and breathing in and breathing out and kicking the water, fighting pregnant swell and ploughing through strong backwash. It seems as if he will never reach the buoy and when he does, it’s a relief. He swims around it instead of stopping to take a breather. Soon, he’s on the beach checking the stopwatch.

03.55.10 seconds.

‘Nearly four minutes. I can do much better than that, ‘ he says, running into the sea.

The next 2 hours are filled with woops and boos. A woop for every length he completes below four minutes, and a boo for every length he fails.

Gasping for breathe, he emerges from the ocean and collapses on the white sand. His fingers are rutted and white, his face is red with a white outline from goggles over his eyes. ‘Okay! Time for a breather,’ he says, laughing.

‘Don’t you want to know your time?’

‘Two minutes forty seconds?’

‘Nope. 3.15.10. I mean that’s amazing compared with your first swim.’

‘I told you I’m good.’

‘Actually, you didn’t tell me that.’

‘Well, now you know.’

He has attitude. A positive attitude that will bode well for him. An attitude you are attracted to. But then again, everything about him is attractive.

He takes your hand on the way to the house, and looks at the sky over the ocean. ‘Lots of seagulls. I’ve never seen so many.’

‘They’ve all come out to celebrate,’ you say, kissing the back of his hand.

‘Celebrate? What?’

‘Us.’

But, in truth, you’ve forgotten.

And when you do remember, it will be too late.

***

A pair of blue checkered boxers and a loose fitting white T lie on the bed. Apples, bananas, grapes, peaches and a tub of yoghurt on the patio table. Two glasses of white wine. Beethoven’s Five Secrets played by The Piano Guys softly plying the airwaves in the background. Joy in the air. Life in your blood. You watch him in the glass encased shower from your bedroom balcony as he soaps the salt off his body, his hands caressing his thighs and lower abdomen, the creamy soap-water falling from his hair. Muscles swollen from the swim. Veins, like sudden lightning, flash across his inner thighs.

‘A towel?’ You turn your head away as he takes it from your hand.

‘Thanks.’ He laughs, ‘Why did you turn away?’

‘I don’t want to make you angry.’

‘Angry? No way. We’re both men.’

‘I put some clothes on the bed for you.’

‘Thank you kind sir. Are you going to shower?’

‘I think so. I feel all sweaty and salty. The humidity is wild out there.’

He wraps the towel around his waist and steps forward, pulling the shirt over your head. His hand caresses swollen nipples. ‘Nice,’ he says. ‘Firm. Just as I imagined them. Hey, and what’s this?’ His hands gently float across a sea of upper chest black hair. ‘Abs? You gym a lot?’

‘I run and exercise on the beach every morning before sunrise.’

‘Perfect. And your skin is so smooth, just the way I like it.’ he smiles.

You want to kiss his smile but you bite your lip. His hands fumble with the buttons on your shorts and finally he yanks them off.

‘I don’t wear undertrousers.’ Is that your voice you hear somewhere distant from you?

‘Man, you’re amazing,’ he says, touching your cock. ‘It’s perfect.’

‘You’re teasing me.’

‘Am I?’ His eyes lock onto yours. He brushes his tongue against your trembling lips and pulls you closer, closer, closer and your tongue is inside his mouth, seeking, grappling, finding throat. The towel drops from his waist. Steel hardness brushes against your belly button and then

the voice in your head says, step back. Again!

‘I…I’m not ready for this, Will.’

His face is a blank. The smile disappears. ‘We’re both standing here with raging hard-ons, how can you not be ready? Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?’

You can’t speak. The lump in your throat won’t allow you to say a word.

‘Say something, Basil. At least tell me where I’m going wrong.’ He steps away from you.

‘You…we…I thought we had agreed not to rush into this that’s all. I don’t want to be a one night stand. I don’t want this to be lust. I think we need to take it slow.’

‘Is that because you’re not into me,’ he grabs the T-shirt off the bed and pulls it over.

Stepping forward, you grab him by the shoulders and spin him to face you. ‘I don’t ever want you to say that again. I am into you. I think you have a remarkable body. I’m jealous that you are so cocky confident and such an ambitious guy, something I never was. I have never felt like this, ever. I want you so much and I want to make love to you, not lust. I fear that if we have sex you’re going to leave me for someone else, a better looking guy who doesn’t fear like I do, a guy who is a virgin. I’m not a virgin. I’ve had more men than you can imagine. I don’t want you to feel that I’m too old for you. Jesus, if I wanted to I could have taken you yesterday when we first discussed this and guess what, you would never have returned today. So many guys have done that to me. No one wants to commit. No one wants to give me their love like I do. Please…please understand.’

‘I don’t understand. Here I am, naked, ready for you. Embarrassing myself. Begging you to have sex with me and all you can think of is yourself, how hurt you will be if I walk away and never return. You don’t know me, Basil. Have you got a pair of shorts for me to wear?’ he says, handing the boxers over.

‘Um…yes…sure…somewhere.’

‘I can’t be seen in the road with boxers on.’

‘I don’t want you to go. Please, I beg you, stay with me.’

‘Why, so that you can gloat over my humiliation?’

‘No! I want you to stay because…because I…because I need you. I want you to stay only if you want to stay.’

‘Well, I don’t. Maybe in my next life. But not today.’

‘I’ll get you a pair of shorts.’

A few minutes later you return with the shorts and he’s seated on the bed facing the balcony and the ocean beyond.

‘Will these do?’ you ask.

He makes no reply. He makes no effort to take the shorts from you. He doesn’t shift when you sit beside him. Gently you turn his head to face you.

‘You’re crying.’

He nods.

‘I’m crazy about you, Basil. I don’t want to go. I want to be with you.’

‘If only you knew how much that means to me, Will. I’m crazy about you to, that’s why I don’t want to fuck up.’

‘I..I’m sorry.’

‘No. You said nothing wrong. You’re right, I’m selfish, thinking only about myself. It’s been four years. I haven’t met anyone. I…maybe I’ve lived alone too long.’

‘Well, maybe I’ve been selfish too. You think all I want is sex. I’ll prove to you that I want more than just sex.’

‘Believe me when I say I want sex. So much. But I also just want to hold you, and talk to you and watch you.’

‘And when you finish holding, and talking and watching me, how long will that be?’

‘We’ll know when the time is right. No need to give a time limit.’

‘What if the feeling passes?’

‘Then we weren’t meant to be. But, deep down, I know we are meant to be.’

‘Can I stay here tonight?’

Five words.

The journey has begun.