As Time Goes By - Georgetown Book III - 8. ATGB VIII

“He looks hot in that outfit. I’d fuck ’im.” The well-aimed elbow to the stomach made CJ grunt; Owen apparently did not approve him ogling the uniformed man.

“Don’t be a wanker. We’re getting married in a couple of weeks. This trip might substitute for buck’s night but that doesn’t mean you get to sleep with the entertainment.”

CJ thought it funny Owen referred to the world-renowned guards in front of Buckingham Palace as entertainment. The overnight flight from Washington delivered them to Heathrow Airport early in the morning; after clearing customs, they made their way to Hotel 41—a five minute stroll away from the British royal residence. They dropped off their luggage and walked over in time to catch the ceremony.

The hotel they found through American Express, rated Best in London by the credit card company’s members for several years in a row. Watching the Changing the Guard ritual was something both agreed they wanted to see. The spectacle lasted near an hour, leading them to rush to their next destination.

The ride inside the London Eye capsule was somewhat touristy but fun. Affording an outstanding view of London, they decided it would have to suffice until they returned to the United Kingdom with more time to explore the many locations they could see from atop the Ferris wheel.

Back on the ground, they crossed the River Thames again on foot, over the Tower Bridge on their way to the Tower of London. Their rushed schedule did not allow time for an extended visit of the historic edifice formally known as Her Majesty's Royal Palace and Fortress of the Tower of London; they were here to see the crown jewels. Dragon had joked a pair of queens about to get married needed to go shopping for baubles to wear at the wedding.

Dragon was again on his mind that evening as the air whooshed out of CJ when the man they stopped in London to see wrapped him in a hug. “About bloody time you came by for a visit. I’ve been inviting you since the day I left Washington.” Rashid Kahn, Devon Jefferson’s old boyfriend and Elite member, moved to England a few months after CJ arrived in Washington.

“Give me a break, King. I’ve been kinda busy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, busy, hell. Then you get over here and all we get to do is have dinner tonight? You couldn’t stay a few days? How the hell am I supposed to interrogate him? What if I don’t approve?” Kahn glanced at Owen and gave him a wink and a smile.

“Fucking attorneys! You’re all the same. Questions and more questions. Too late, buddy. Approval or not I’m keeping him. Anyway, since you two have never met in person… Owen Liston, Rashid Kahn. Rashid Kahn, Owen Liston.”

“Asshole!” The reply was simultaneous and the three men entered the restaurant laughing. Although they had not met before, Rashid and Owen had spoken a few times on the phone and traded e-mails.

“What I don’t understand is if you miss each other so much”—Owen fixed his gaze on the London resident—“why aren’t you coming to our wedding? I think the dads’ friends were even more upset than CJ you’re not going to be there.”

“I’m sorry, guys. The trip to the conference in Beijing has been on my schedule for over a year. The bloke organizing it is a client and when they asked me to be a presenter, there was no way I could say no. I’m up for partnership and I have to play the game.”

“We may as well make the most of tonight then.” CJ followed behind the others when the hostess led them to a table. “I wish we could have spent a few more days here too, Rash. But we need to get to Amsterdam and there isn’t time. I think Ozzie and I agree we’ll be back sometime in the future. There’s a lot we’d like to see and do. I’m dying to visit Stonehenge.”

For the third day in a row, CJ woke up, used the restroom after starting the coffeemaker, and sat at the hotel room’s desk to check e-mails. Done with his first cup, he woke Owen so the man could get ready for practice.

Traveling on the high-speed Eurostar train took them under the English Channel and through the French countryside, depositing them in Brussels a bit over two hours later. At the Belgian capital’s Midi/Zuid station, they switched to a Thalys train for the remaining half of the trek to Amsterdam Centraal Station.

The Netherlands’s capital was the host city for the 2018 Mark Bingham Memorial Cup. Gay rugby teams traveled from all over the world to compete in the tournament held in Nashville, Tennessee two years prior; most of them and a few new ones made the trip to Amsterdam.

They established the pattern for their visit the first day in the city: Owen and the rest of the Washington Scandals Rugby Football Club would practice in the mornings while CJ and a few other tagalongs watched from the stands. After showering and changing, the group would break up for lunch and spend the afternoon sightseeing. The first day they visited the Heineken Experience; so enjoyable it was. a few of the players returned the following day for an encore. Their fellow Squad member, Tanix Janda, stuck with CJ and Owen.

CJ did his research prior to leaving Washington and served as their unofficial tour guide. The fact most locals they interacted with spoke English made it easier to navigate the city. CJ’s incipient knowledge of German helped fill in when they encountered those who could not speak the Queen’s tongue. Some older Dutch spoke German and the languages were close enough CJ was able to pick up a word here and there.

The first two days they spent mostly indoors. A visit to the Anne Frank House was atop CJ’s list of things to do. Following his visit to Yad Vashem in Jerusalem the previous year, he had read the Jewish teen’s diary chronicling her experiences hiding from the Nazis during World War II. The next day, the Museumplein was their destination. The park served as a central point for a variety of museums, including the Rijksmuseum. The institution possessed a large collection of classical Dutch art housed in a beautiful gothic revival structure. CJ and Owen were pleasantly surprised when they discovered Tank had an extensive knowledge of art he had never revealed. He helped them appreciate the work of Rembrandt and later Van Goh―who lived in Amsterdam for a short while―at the museum dedicated to his work.

Evenings were spent sampling cuisine from different nations in the cosmopolitan European city, walking beside the many canals, and there was a foray into the Red Light District to observe sex workers behind their windows. CJ felt like an anthropologist studying a strange civilization. Bar hopping was a given whenever a bunch of ruggers came together and this gathering was no different. Each night ended with a bunch of rowdy men in varying degrees of intoxication stumbling back to their hotels alone, with a fellow visiting player, or with an accommodating local.

Although a couple of the Scandals accompanied them to the museums, they were a bit surprised when a curly-haired, muscular man they had not yet met joined them. CJ was quick to extend his hand in welcome. “Hi, I’m CJ. And this is my boyfriend, Ozzie.”

“Hello, I’m Tarik. I hope you not mind me spending afternoon with you. Tank invited me.”

The somewhat broken English and accent suggested Middle Eastern roots; Tank confirmed CJ’s assumption. “Tarik plays for a local club. He’s originally from Turkey.”

The Netherlands were world famous for wooden clogs, the Amsterdam canals, tulips, and windmills. Neither CJ nor Owen had any interest in wearing clogs but they bought a pair as a souvenir and display piece for their new home. They crossed the canals plenty of times during the first few days of their stay, and tulips were not in bloom. The dads had suggested a foray to Keukenhof Tulip Park; an excursion they enjoyed during a visit years before, but it was too late in spring for a flower display. That left windmills.

According to Tarik, of the eight left in Amsterdam, just one was open to the public and that was where they headed. The picture someone agreed to take in front of the Sloten Windmill would be amongst the first on what would become a new photo gallery wall at the Georgetown Theatre apartment. Their new friend insisted on treating them to dinner at a relative’s Turkish restaurant; afterward, CJ swore he would start eating more lamb. What they ordered was so good. He was unsure why he was surprised at the similarity with Israeli food he enjoyed the previous year. It made sense when one considered both countries sat on the eastern edge of the Mediterranean Sea.

On the advice of their hotel’s concierge, CJ and Owen made an appointment at Orange Ink; it was where they planned on being after their meal. The tattoo and piercing parlor had garnered high reviews from locals and tourists, which CJ read over while watching practice earlier in the day.

“Ready, Oz?” CJ stopped with his hand resting on the door handle, wanting to make sure his boyfriend was not having second thoughts.

“Bloody right, I am. Let’s get in there.”

The shop was empty of customers when they stepped inside. Two men and a woman CJ assumed were artists sat watching a soccer match on the television set. Santa Claus’ twin brother smiled at them. “Goedenavond.”

“Ummm, goedenavond. You speak English?” CJ understood the greeting; he had made sure good evening was one of the phrases he memorized. He watched the guy stand and realized the long white beard and rimless glasses were as far as the resemblance to Father Christmas went. The older man was not fat and colorful tattoos were visible wherever skin was exposed.

“Of course! We all do. I’m Ugly. What can we do for you guys?”

“Ugly? Mate, that better be a nickname. I’m Owen and this is CJ.”

“Hallo… Of course it’s not my real name.” Ugly’s chuckle disappointed CJ who expected a ho-ho-ho belly laugh. “It’s what my older brother used to call me when I was little. It stuck. You don’t sound like an American, although your friend does.”

“I’m Australian. But we both live in Washington. Somebody at our hotel recommended your shop.” Owen pointed at CJ while smiling. “He wants a tattoo and I want a piercing.”

“So, you decided to do this because you’re on holiday?”

CJ’s smile grew to match Owen’s. “We’re getting married at the end of the month and those are presents to ourselves.”

“Hartelijk gefeliciteerd!” The other two occupants of the shop had stopped watching the game and were paying attention to their customers. When the woman spoke, her companion stood and walked towards the guys.

“Yes, congratulations from me too. I married my husband two years ago and had his name inked on my chest when we did. You want to do something like that?”

CJ rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans before replying. He could not understand why he was nervous. He liked and was accustomed to tattoos and had watched his father get inked. Losing his body-art virginity was no reason for his palms to get sweaty. Even more so considering how long he had been planning this. “Ummm, I’m the one getting the tattoo. Ozzie’s planning on getting his nipples pierced. And I wasn’t planning on his name but something similar. Right over my heart.”

Ugly watched as CJ retrieved his phone and showed him a picture of what he wanted his first tattoo to look like. “That is the Southern Cross, I think. Is that the one on the Australian flag?” The man seemed delighted and CJ assumed it was because he recognized the constellation.

“Yes, sir. But now I’m thinking I might want his name too. You looked pleased you knew what it was.”

“That’s not what I’m pleased about, my friend. I think what you’re doing’s very romantic. Well, I’ll be working on both of you.” Ugly rubbed his hands in anticipation and turned his attention to Owen. “Let’s get the piercings out of the way and then we’ll do the tattoo. So, what type of jewelry would you like?”

Shaving CJ took almost as long as either the piercings or the inking did―he asked to borrow the clippers to trim his chest so the denuded spot would not be so noticeable. Nobody appeared to be in a rush; while cleaning his station, Ugly offered them a beer. They extended their time at the shop and enjoyed hanging out with the three artists. By the time they walked back to their hotel, Owen had twin gold rings through his nipples and CJ sported five stars and “Ozzie” on his chest.

“You sure about this?” The Scandals won their first match but faltered in the next and were eliminated from contention for the championship. Since Owen and Tank did not have to play the next day, they decided to go out dancing Saturday night.

CJ’s crooked grin earned him a matching one from his boyfriend. “Hell, yeah! This counts as our bachelor party. Our final hurrah. You know Tank won’t touch the stuff. Silly man treating his body like a temple instead of an amusement park. Anyway, he already agreed to skip the alcohol tonight and be our designated driver.”

When planning for their party night, CJ talked to one of the locals he sat next to during the match. The man’s husband played for a Dutch team also eliminated and latched on to the idea of an evening out dancing. CJ was surprised when asked if he wanted to score hits of ecstasy. After thinking about it for a moment, he quickly reached for his money clip asking how much for two.

“What? We’re not driving anywhere.” Owen’s sudden confusion made CJ groan.

“Don’t be such a blonde, Ozzie. It’s a figure of speech. Anyway, I’m not sure when we’ll have another chance. I already started the process of applying to the State Department and you know they do random tests.” CJ bemoaned the fact he might have to give up smoking pot if hired.

“Fine, but we stay together all night. Even when going to the bathroom.” During one of their many conversations, Owen had revealed many of the sexual situations he found himself in with his ex-boyfriend were fueled by party drugs consumed prior to a night out dancing. “You haven’t been around a bunch of gay men on ecstasy before. Most turn into horny animals.”

CJ loved Owen looking after him. “Yes, mother.”

“Don’t mother me, you wanker. No alcohol, plenty of water or Gatorade, and I know I don’t have to remind you not to drink anything unless we buy it ourselves.”

The pill’s effect came on gradually. At first it was a warmth spreading through his body so CJ ripped off his t-shirt and stuck it in a belt loop. Strangers ran their hands over his clipped chest hair and CJ did not object. The sensation was exhilarating. He had never had so many guys paying him attention at the same time. A deep inhale allowed him to savor the musk oozing from those closest to him. All his senses were as alive as ever. The thumping beat coursed through CJ’s body, making him feel the music as he never had. He brushed a finger down Owen’s chest and then stuck it in his mouth. His boyfriend’s sweat was the most delicious thing he had tasted in his life. Lifting his head, he stared at the blonde god in front of him and leaned in for a kiss.

Owen moaned, disengaged their lips, and eyes closed, threw his head back. CJ took the opportunity to lick the man’s throat and nibble around his neck. They were surrounded by gyrating young men―most shirtless as CJ and Owen were―but he failed to notice them. His attention focused on the music and his boyfriend. Until he felt a hairy, broad chest plastered against his back and strong arms wrap lovingly around his body.

Opening his eyes, two smiling faces greeted him. He felt Owen mold his body against him as Tank pushed them closer together―the blonde bodybuilder folded himself around Owen the same way the man CJ now knew was Tarik did with him. The four men swayed together, running hands over bodies, exploring each other’s muscles. CJ rubbed his groin against Owen’s. The club’s atmosphere and constant physical contact had both adjusting the stiffness in their jeans.

“Damn!” CJ felt something poking his ass, reached back, and took hold of Tarik’s erection. He spoke so softly Owen could hear him but not the others. “Tarik keeps humping my ass, babe. He’s fucking huge.”

“Yeah? Feels good? Tank’s rubbing his dick against my ass too.”

“Fucking horndogs! And yeah, it feels good to stroke him. I think he wants to fuck me.”

“You want him to?” The couple was clinched together, foreheads touching, still whispering so nobody else reacted to their conversation.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. No, I don’t. Damn! I’m not sure what’s going on but I do want to get fucked tonight. By you.”

Owen’s smile grew. “I’ll be happy to. What we gonna do about Tank and Tarik? Neither one has a place to go. Should we invite them to our room with us?”

CJ stared at Owen, gave him a wink, a nod, and a peck on the lips. He twisted around inside the cage of Tarik’s arms, wrapped his own around the muscular Turk, and dove for his lips. As they turned in the dance floor, out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed his boyfriend doing the same with Tank. Assuming the plan was a go from those two, he leaned into Tarik and whispered the proposal.

Tarik lived with family and Tank was sharing a room with three other Scandals; CJ and Owen had their own with two large beds. He didn’t know when they left the club and stumbled back to the hotel―CJ’s euphoria did not wane. As soon as the door closed, the little they wore was discarded wherever they stood. Hands and tongues roamed every inch of flesh within reach. It did not matter whose it was.

CJ was on his back. Tank and Owen each had one of his nipples in between their teeth, while Tarik was trying to suck his brain through his cock. When the Turkish stud started running a finger over his crack, CJ shifted back out of reach. The one lucid section of his mind took over.

He scooted back on the bed until his shoulders hit the wall, pulling Tarik along until their lips met once again. Disengaging, he stared at the dark eyes and guessed his own pupils were just as dilated. “How about a little break, guys. I need something to drink.”

While Tank retrieved water bottles from the room’s minibar, CJ tried to let Tarik down gently. He realized he had been leading the man on. “I can’t believe I’m saying this.” CJ shook his head while running his hands up and down the man’s sides. “Hey, big guy. As much as I’m enjoying what’s going on, we’re gonna have to stop.” He almost laughed at the surprised expression meeting his comment. “Nothing against you, bud. Ozzie’s the only man who’s ever been inside me and I think we wanna keep it that way. Okay?”

“Ja, I understand. You want us to leave now.” The man made to get out of bed but CJ stopped him.

“No! You guys stay. Look, why don’t you and Tank stay on this bed. Ozzie and I will move to the other one. The two of you look scorching together. I wanna watch you fuck him. It’ll be hot.”

Tarik smiled, nodded, and leaned in to capture CJ’s lips once again. Two sets of feet soon pointed at the ceiling as each man was taken by his partner. No further tactile interaction between the two couples took place. It was not until well after the sun peeked above the horizon they fell asleep.