Frankie Fey - 26. Gangtok

It was an exhilarating and beautiful drive up to Gangtok; cool mountain valleys aglow with late summer flowering shrubbery, numerous knife-edge bends winding ever up, dotted with cautionary signs telling the driver to slow down if he wanted to see heaven. The drivers of oncoming vehicles either couldn’t read or had lost the will to live judging from their speed and apparent insouciance on blind corners. All around was dense greenery, pine forests, mountain meadows and wildly flowering shrubbery with occasional views up a valley to distant snow clad mountains.

Gangtok appeared as a bustling complex of steep steps, deep declines, heaped buildings and winding streets, strung out over a wide ridge.

Sushant found a small Inn that bore a striking resemblance to pictures Frankie had seen of Swiss chalets. Two storied in dark brown wood, a steeply pitched roof against winter snow, and a balcony across the front, supported on bright red painted pillars, shading a paved area in front with a few cane chairs and tables. Orange painted window frames created a decorative series of panels across the ground floor. The only room available was a double, but Sushant assured Frankie it was considered normal for two men to share a bed. Their host was an elderly man who had been enjoying the morning sun. He gave a perfunctory glance at Frankie’s passport, said something to Sushant, whose reply made them both laugh, then directed them to their room on the first floor. It was tiny, just space for the bed and a chest of drawers, but clean and fresh, sheets starched and sweet-smelling. The view from their window was of forested mountains and valleys. The busy street below so romantically different from Australia that Frankie felt unaccountably happy.

‘What were you and the bloke downstairs laughing about?’

‘I told him you were my Australian cousin and he asked if you were a student. I said no and he said that was lucky because he’d heard that Australian students had been attacking Indians.’

‘That was in Melbourne a few years ago.’

‘Time means nothing to an Indian,’ Sushant laughed. ‘But I stink, let’s shower.’

‘Excellent idea.’

They stripped, wrapped towels around their loins and found the bathroom three doors along the corridor. A blue tiled room containing hooks for towels, a wooden bench, wooden buckets, a cold-water tap, a shower, and a drain in the centre of the floor.

‘Bucket or shower?’

‘Bucket, you don’t get time to suffer the cold.’

They each filled a bucket and tipped it over the other, squirming from the freezing water, then soaped and sluiced off.

‘That is so refreshing! Tip one more over me?’

Sushant obliged, then they towelled, returned to their room, draped their towels over a rail in front of the window and stood looking at each other.

Sushant frowned. ‘I'm nervous.’

‘Of what?’

‘I don’t know what to do. Look at my…, it’s almost disappeared.’

‘Mine too; it’s the cold water. As for what to do, the only rule is to do what pleases you and not what doesn't. And it’s polite to try to please your partner as well.’

‘So… I don’t have to… you know…’

‘You don’t have to do anything.’

‘What if I can’t get an erection?’

‘Who cares? There’s more pleasure to be had with the rest of your body than in that little tube.’

‘If I don’t get an erection with my wife, she gets angry, says it is an insult. And that makes it even harder to perform. I’ve heard her friends talking about their husbands and their erections and dread to think what she says about me.’

‘Well, sex with other men is not like that at all. We understand that we can’t always get a hard on or it suddenly gets soft, or we don’t feel like continuing. No decent man would think of criticising you for your penis’s performance. The important thing to remember is, it is not a competition, or a race, or anything but pleasure and fun. So relax and enjoy. You have a perfect body. Slim and golden, fit and sexy and handsome, and that beard!’ Frankie moved close to Sushant and placed his hands on his shoulders.

Sushant shuddered, but not from distaste. ‘This is the first time I have been naked with another man; Indians do not do that! And the first time I have been told I am handsome by a man. And now I am being touched sexily by another man.’ He smiled and also placed his hands on Frankie’s shoulders.

Slowly their fingers explored, then without realising how it happened they were lying on their sides on the firm bed, facing each other and stroking, exploring, lips brushing softly.

‘Still nervous?’ Frankie asked.

‘No.’ Sushant grinned nervously. ‘And how was it to kiss a man with a beard?’

‘Masculine. I now prefer it to smooth.’ Frankie rolled Sushant onto his back, spread his legs, knelt between them and lightly stroked both feet. Sushant sighed from pleasure as Frankie slowly worked his way up the legs, lightly brushing only the tips of hairs for maximum sensation. A sudden exhalation of breath when his scrotum was stroked and then cupped, was followed by a grunt of pleasure when Frankie dragged a finger up his erection.

‘See? You worried for nothing. This is perfect, exactly the right size and shape and so stiff it deserves a kiss.’

It received one, and then another, and then a tongue, generating a low moan that seemed to ooze from deep inside Sushant’s chest.

Frankie continued up the belly using lips and tongue, triggering jolts of ecstasy at navel and nipples, then along the neck, before gently lowering himself until their erections kissed, followed by bellies, chests, and finally lips. And thus they remained until with a great grunt and spasm, Sushant orgasmed, nearly thrusting Frankie onto the floor with the force of his reaction.

‘Never have I been so aroused,’ he whispered when able to speak. ‘Never! I had no idea my body was so sensitive. You are a magician! Now I do it to you!’

Afterwards, they lay on their backs, thighs touching, gazing into space in contented calm, not thinking, just enjoying uncomplicated, intimate contact with another man.

‘So,’ Frankie asked softly, ‘Do you now think of yourself as a homosexual?’

Sushant raised himself on an elbow and kissed Frankie on the forehead. ‘You are totally correct. Such labels are not only meaningless, they are dangerous. I remain me. A man. That's all. All my values, hopes, fears, plans remain intact. The sole difference is I now know that sex with another man can be as beautiful, if not more beautiful than with a woman, because it’s between true equals. It is no different from if I had discovered a totally new form of music. My mind is expanded but I am still the same in essence.’

‘You're not only handsome and sexy, but intelligent as well. So… are we going to lie here all day or go and see the town?’

Frankie’s casual clothes would mark him as yet another of the thousands of tourists, so to look like Sushant’s cousin he borrowed his spare slacks, shirt and shoes, and they exited the Inn feeling deliciously anonymous.

The city enchanted him. Sprawled along a mountain ridge, surrounded by dense forests, built on a series of terraces that descended into the valleys on either side, then trickled up side ridges ending in spectacular lookouts. They visited a tiny temple perched on the edge of a promontory at the end of a track. Inside was only room for one person crouching. The view literally took his breath away, leaving him feeling dangerously dizzy. He hoped it was lack of food.

They wandered back to the older part of town, along streets lined with three and four storied houses, shops and apartment blocks, many painted bright blue-green. Each road was level, then a sharp turn wound down to the next level where it felt as flat and normal as any other city street. But looking back they realised that the two or three storied houses at street level, were six or seven stories at the rear, due to the steeply sloping land. Motorbikes, cars and taxis kept pedestrians active. Frankie was surprised to see that most faces were not recognisably Indian. Sushant explained the history of Sikkim, it’s roots in Tibet, Nepal and Bhutan, and that it had been a kingdom until the mid nineteen-seventies when it became an Indian State.

‘Australia reckons it’s a racially diverse country,’ Frankie observed, ‘but I've never seen so many different racial groups and types all together.’

They spent some time sitting on benches in Mahatma Gandhi Road, a wide and elegant, pedestrian-only boulevard with a grassy strip down the centre, bordered by benches on which people could relax and watch the world go by. Elegant terracotta urns every few metres contained conifer shrubs and poles for beautiful Victorian lamps. The whole place was spotless, thanks to litter laws that make Gangtok the cleanest city in India. As smoking is forbidden in Sikkim, that pollution is also avoided. Sushant was able to satisfy Frankie’s curiosity about the most obvious of the different people wandering past; Tibetan lamas in yellow robes and Tibetan ladies in striped aprons and brocades, Gurung farmers from central Nepal, Gurkhas from eastern Nepal, fair-skinned Lepchas and Bhutias from Sikkim, Drukpas from Bhutan, Sherpas from the mountains, and all manner of foreign and domestic tourists.

Uninterested in the glittering shops, restaurants & bars on both sides of the boulevard, they meandered down from street to street, marvelling that the inhabitants dared to live like that; four and five storied apartment blocks in all shades of cream and brown with the occasional orange or blue, built on terraces, seemingly stacked one on top of the other, right up the side of the mountain. From a distance the roads that zigzagged up the hill between the buildings were invisible so it looked as if all the buildings were piled on top of each other. Spectacular, but incredible fragile, especially as the whole town was built on rock that was notoriously crumbly.

‘This is a geologically unstable area because the Indian tectonic plate is still shoving the Himalayan mountains higher. Earthquakes are common’ Sushant observed,

‘What would happen if there was one now?’

‘Half the buildings would slide down the hill, I imagine.’

‘I’d be a neurotic mess living here. The beauty, the spectacular views, the clean fresh air and abundant nature wouldn’t compensate for the constant fear.’

‘Isn't that how you live in Australia? In constant fear of bush fires, floods and droughts?’

‘Yeah. I guess you're right. You just make plans then get on with living.’

‘Exactly. And now it’s time for lunch.’

After enjoying a vegetarian meal at a small Sikkim restaurant they hired a taxi to visit an enormous Buddhist temple with a gigantic statue on top, then a lake, then a waterfall, and then they simply wandered along forest paths.

After an early evening meal, shyness enveloped both men as each wondered what the other would like to do before going to bed. Did the other want to go to a nightclub, to the cinema, a bar? Or did he want to make an early night of it. So they wrote what they would like to do on slips of paper, then flipped a coin. Sushant won and showed Frankie his wish. Frankie laughed in delight and showed his. Both wanted a shower and an early night.

‘When I’m having sex with my wife,’ Sushant said thoughtfully while they dried themselves after pouring cold water over each other, ‘I’ve often wondered what it feels like to have a man’s erection inside me. Is that strange?’

‘I don’t think so. Lots of men have the same question, and many try it—at least according to websites.’

‘Have you had it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you like it?’

‘Yes and no. I liked that the man wanted me, and it made me feel sort of powerful in a way I have no words to describe, but the physical pleasures weren't up to the psychological ones. I just felt as if I desperately needed a shit and was relieved when it was over. But loads of men love it so much they get addicted. Perhaps I have a lazy prostate.’

‘What's the prostate got to do with it?’

‘Apparently, when it’s caressed by a passing penis it sends tremors of ecstasy throughout the body. Never happened to me, unfortunately. But then I've a poor sense of smell too. Maybe they're linked.’

Sushant was giggling. ‘You are so funny, Frankie. So easy and honest. I wish I’d had someone like you as a friend when I was growing up. How different my life would have been.’

‘Are you unhappy?’

‘No… not unhappy. Not happy either. More anaesthetised I think. I do what I'm supposed to as well as I can. I'm successful in a small way. I have the required wife and two children and am respected, I think, by a multitude of uncles, aunts, sisters, cousins, in-laws, parents and grandparents on both sides… the vast tribe of people who think they have the inalienable right to tell me what to do, what to think, where I should go and all the rest.’ He sighed. ‘I’m a good Indian boy, so why doesn't it satisfy me?’

‘False desires, the Buddha would say. Perhaps a good fuck is the answer, but I’ll need a condom and lube.’

Sushant leaped from the bed and rummaged in his trouser pockets, holding aloft a small package.

‘When did you get that?’

‘This afternoon when you were looking through the magazines in that book shop.’

‘You’ve been planning this.’

‘Living in hope would be nearer the mark. But be gentle.’

Frankie was very gentle. Even so it took nearly an hour before the instrument of desire was fully inserted. But from then on all went according to the book. Frankie experienced an exquisite orgasm and Sushant found himself quietly satisfied with the experience, but not in a hurry to repeat it, confiding afterwards that pleasuring himself afterwards under Frankie’s admiring gaze had been much more fun. ‘It seemed so much better than usual with you watching. Is it the same for you?’

‘I’d do it in front of a cheering audience of thousands if they were available. Most guys like being watched, it’s why gang rapes are so popular.’

They slept.

Being young and fit they managed orgasms before breakfast, then after visiting the Botanical Gardens and bathing with other men in a pool beneath a waterfall in a forest, they bid each other a seriously sad farewell. Sushant had decided not to exchange addresses.

‘My inbuilt sense of duty demands I continue with the life my mother and society chose for me. I'm not unhappy; there are compensations and I will treasure the last two days for the rest of my life. But if I had your address I would always be wondering if I should… if I could…’ he stopped and stroked Frankie’s cheek.

Checking to ensure no one was watching, Frankie took the slender, elegant brown hand, kissed the fingers lightly, and stepped into the shared taxi that would take him to Lachung. By the time he was seated and looked out the window, Sushant was gone, leaving a hole in his chest. He swallowed, and smiled at the other two passengers who fortunately didn’t speak English.