Camp Echo - 2. Chapter Two - Sex (second edition).

“Aeriol, what are you talking about?”

“Alex. He wants to do it with you.”

“What?”

Max was incredulous.

“You heard. In the shower.”

Aeriol looked serious.

“Fuck off!”

“I’m not kidding. He saw you and he wants to do it in the shower.”

“I don’t hardly know him.” Max told him.

“So what? He’s not looking to get married. He just wants to fuck you.”

“In the shower?”

Aeriol laughed. Max would have laughed if it was not so absurd and if he didn’t think that Aeriol was being absolutely serious.

“Why would I do that?” Max asked.

Aeriol raised his eyebrows. “Because... you want to.”

“Do I?”

“You know you fucking do Max. Don’t think you can hide it from me.”

“And where exactly do you fit into all this?”

“I don’t know. It might be exciting, who can say. I might do him when he’s fucking you.”

“Is everything about sex with you?”

“Yeah, of course, you know it is.”

“No... the answer is no!” Max was adamant.

“You going all coy? You know you want it. Come on, I know you.”

“I’m going out.”

Max left.

He needed some air. He was suffocating. No way could he keep pleasing Aeriol in some vain hope of what? A relationship? They had that, but it was just so far from normal it was unreal. Why did he stick around? That question Max asked himself all the time. He wanted to talk to Geoffrey, but Geoffrey was in Brazil. Instead he headed into town and the Somerset Arms. It was a sort of home from home, he might bump into someone he knew. If not, well, he’d at least be in similar company, it was a gay pub.

Nigel was there. Max saw him as soon as he entered. He wandered over and slid onto the old padded bench seat. As he did so a rather heavy set, well dressed man, came over carrying two pints. He set them down carefully on the table.

“This is Max,” Nigel announced. “Max, meet Simon.”

Simon smiled, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Thank you, a rum and coke please,” Max returned the smile and turned his attention to Nigel.

“Yes, I know,” Nigel grinned. “He’s very nice. Awfully polite, and great in bed!”

Max raised an eyebrow, “Oh really!”

“Yes. Gentle, caring, everything a girl could wish for.”

“So he’s got a big dick then?”

Nigel threw his head back and laughed. At that moment Simon returned, placed Max’s drink in front of him and sat down.

“What’s the joke?”

Simon looked first at Nigel, then Max.

“We were discussing big pricks,” Max explained, smiling coyly. “I happen to live with one.”

Simon didn’t quite follow the sense, he let it pass, sipped his beer.

“So Max what do you do?” Simon asked.

Max almost choked on his rum and coke, before he realised that Simon was a naive innocent. Nigel was cracking up. Simon was simply looking lost. Simple Simon, Max thought, and it took restraint not to burst out laughing. He didn’t want to embarrass the man.

“Don’t mind Nigel he’s got a giggling fit.” Max scowled at Nigel.

Simon smiled.

“I’m a management trainee,” Max told him.

Nigel regained his self-control and refrained from commenting. Polite conversation about jobs and education pursued. Until Nigel pointed out that a young man was giving Max looks, which made Max peer through the crowd towards the bar. It had filled up somewhat, but he still caught a glimpse. The boy at the bar looked straight at him and smiled. Why not? Max thought and beckoned him over.

“Grab a chair.” Max looked up at him.

The smooth well tanned face, dark brown eyes, and straight black hair of the boy who stood the other side of the table, greeted him. His eyes devoured the young man and his cock acknowledged the attraction. The boy smiled and sat down.

“Paco,” he announced.

“Nice name.”

Max was totally captivated, the white teeth sparkled against the tanned skin. “Where you from?”

“The States,” Paco replied.

“Oh, but your name doesn't sound American.”

“I’m Puerto Rican.”

“How lovely,” Nigel chipped in.

Max was afraid Nigel might frighten him off, not everyone in the pub was gay. It was also popular with tourists. But Paco didn’t seem put out.

“Are you on vacation?” Max couldn’t help staring, but it seemed there was a mutual attraction.

“Not exactly. I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”

In one short sentence he’d crushed Max’s mounting expectations, although it was obvious the boy liked him.

“He’s in the opera.”

“Oh!” Was all Max could manage, somewhat destroyed by the boyfriend announcement.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to leave when he gets here.”

“Ships that pass in the night,” Nigel commented.

The analogy escaped Paco, but Max shot him daggers.

“Francisco! There you are.” A tall, quite obviously American man called out as he approached them.

“Paco's a nickname,” Paco told Max, as his presumed boyfriend joined them.

Less than ten minutes later Paco/Francisco was leaving the pub with his tall handsome American and Max was nursing his shattered emotions.

“My life is shit,” he declared as he stood up, nodded to Nigel and Simon, then followed Paco out of the pub.

“He’s coming round tomorrow,” Aeriol said.

“I don’t fucking care. It’s Sunday and I might be out.”

Aeriol looked at him. Max pretended to be busy making a drink.

“No you won’t,” Aeriol told him.

“I might. I got things to do," Max huffed.

“No you don’t.”

Max turned, mug in hand and looked at Aeriol, who stayed sitting at the kitchen table and finished rolling a joint.

“This is good stuff,” he said, without looking up.

Max wondered sometimes about Aeriol’s drug habits, his ability to get stoned every night and still get up and go to work. He was seriously considering chucking the management training, somehow it didn’t quite fit his lifestyle. He would never admit that Aeriol was dragging him down, but to any outsider, that was exactly what it looked like.

Max sipped his mug of Caro and watched Aeriol light up. A ball of smoke puffed up into the air, filling the kitchen with that familiar pungent aroma. Trying to hold the smoke in and talk at the same time, Aeriol turned to Max.

“Want some?”

He proffered the neatly rolled joint, extending his arm. Max took a step closer, reached out and took it. Bringing it to his lips, he felt the heat as he inhaled. The end flamed as he held the joint, then passed it back. Aeriol smiled. Max moved and sat down at the end of the wooden table.

“I told you it’s good,” Aeriol watched him. His eyes were red and his expression was glazed over as if he was distant, moving, but still.

“Fuck! Where'd you get this?” Max asked.

“Mayaan. She came round earlier.”

“Wow...” Max put his mug down.

Aeriol’s face was changing, moving. Everything was sort of vibrating in a wavy dance. He smiled. Aeriol smiled back.

“Yeah, it’s trippy...” He stared at Max.

Their smiles turned to laughter.

Aeriol handed Max the joint: “Finish it.”

He did.

Aeriol stood up, moved around to stand behind Max, his hands resting on Max’s shoulders.

“Come on,” Aeriol’s hand slid down inside his t-shirt. “Let’s make stoned love.”

“You should save that stuff for special occasions. It’s fucking super charged,” Max told him.

He loved waking up in bed next to Aeriol. He moved close, pressed his body into Aeriol and snuggled up, skin against skin.

“Two joints and it’s like you’re tripping. What happened last night?” Aeriol asked him.

“I can’t say," Max replied.

Aeriol turned to face him, “Yeah you could.”

Max smiled and lay there looking at Aeriol's messed up hair.

“I’m gonna chuck the job.”

“Yeah? You can come work with me in the warehouse. No problem,” Aeriol grinned. “You know... I never wanted to say, but it’s a crap job you got. Working with all those nine to five arseholes in suits.”

Max didn’t say anything, he was just enjoying being in bed with Aeriol. Looking at him, feeling his breath on his face.

“I need to pee,” Aeriol turned and pulled back the duvet, swinging his legs out from under the cover and standing up.

Max watched him, his eyes tracing the smooth curve of his back, and resting on those lovely round cheeks, those smooth thighs. He stared as Aeriol picked up his boxers from the floor, then he watched him leave.

Mayaan was talking to Nadia as she drank her orange juice.

“He’s a dream. Really I could easily have him, I’m sure. He has one huge weakness.”

“Oh yes,” Nadia smiled. “And we all know what that is... BOYS!”

Mayaan laughed.

“Apart from boys... dope.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Ooh! Don’t play innocent Nads. Not with me, your best friend, who has known you since forever. You do know he’s fucking your brother?”

“Of course I know.” Nadia pulled her nightgown together as she delicately nibbled her biscotte. “Alex can do whatever he likes. And I can tell you something else he likes.”

“Yes, do tell. I’m listening," Mayaan replied.

“He likes Maximillian.”

“Likes as in...”

“Ah huh,” Nadia batted her eyelids, put down her half finished biscotte, and examined her nails.

“You know what.”

Nadia looked up at Mayaan.

“I think we should go round there tonight and gate crash their little party.”

Mayaan wore a broad grin across her face.

“Aeriol might not be too pleased and...”

“And what?” May asked.

“Alex.”

“Never mind, they’ll get over it. Besides, if I’m screwing Aeriol, Alex is free to have Max," she told her.

“You wicked witch. And me?” Nads asked.

“You Nads, love to watch. And you can have Aeriol as well, if you want.”

“I’ll take some pictures,” Nads declared.

“Now who’s being a bitch?”

“Take them. Didn’t say I’d use them.”

It was already ten when Alex showed up. Jules was there, he somehow managed to do that. Max wondered about Jules, he would vanish, then turn up, unannounced, out of the blue. He hadn’t seen him since that art cinema film. They were all stoned, the stereo was blasting out Jefferson Airplane:

“When the truth is found to be lies,

and all the joy within you dies...”

Somebody passed the spliff to Alex as he entered the room. Smoke drifted about slowly, like tiny fluffy clouds that evaporated into nothing. Aeriol blew smoke rings...

“Your eyes, I say your eyes, may look like his.

Yeah, but in your head, baby I'm afraid you don't know where it is.

Don't you want somebody to love?

Don't you need somebody to love?”

The band played on.

“Don't bumsuck that joint,” Aeriol reached over to Jules to take it off him.

There was a ring at the door.

“Go see who the hell that is,” Aeriol commanded.

It was Max who got up and went downstairs. He wondered if the music was too loud for their little old landlady who lived below, but he decided it wasn't. Opening the door he stepped back inside on seeing who else had arrived.

“Come on in girls,” he exaggerated his welcome. “Aeriol must be expecting you. Fantastic shit by the way,” he announced rather vulgarly.

“I doubt that," May giggled.

“What, that it’s fantastic. I’m the living proof,” he turned and stumbled after them up the stairs.

“No idiot. I doubt he’s expecting us," May told him.

“What the fuck. More the merrier," Max replied.

“Mayaan! Nads!” Aeriol exclaimed as he turned to see who had arrived.

“What are you doing here?” Alex almost grinded the words out as he looked at his sister.

“You two know each other?” Max was grinning like an idiot.

“He’s my brother,” Nadia lowered her head, nodding towards Alex.

“Fuck me... I didn't know that.”

Max was genuinely surprised.

“They took all the trees, put 'em in a tree museum

and they charged the people a dollar and a half just to see 'em...”

Joni Mitchell was singing her heart out. Jules had fallen asleep, sucked into one of the giant bean bags. Aeriol was grinning like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, and Alex was glaring at his sister like a zombie from the Walking Dead. Max just looked on stunned.

“Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone...”

Oh fuck, yes, Max thought as he plonked himself down on the floor next to Jules.