What the fuck was I gonna do about that guy? Hello? There I was again, asking the same question over and over. I blew a cloud of smoke into the night air and stared at the twinkling stars. Which one was Kyle's real home? It had to be one of them. No way he was an earthling. No fucking way. He'd been sent here by some alien civilization to confuse the fuck outa me. I was an experiment.
When I got to my room, Kyle was sleeping. The pillow was wet, but not from sweat. He'd obviously been crying.
I climbed in next to him, and felt under the covers. He had boxers on, and his dick was lazy.
"Hey, Kyle?" Zip. He didn't stir. "I'm sorry, buddy."
For a while I studied his face. How could such an angelic face belong to such a wild fucker, I wondered. He looked as if he'd just taken harp lessons. The only things missing were the wings and halo. Then I started to giggle at the thought of a religious painting of Kyle, floating around in space, with lengths of fluttering chiffon draped loosely over his body, conveniently covering his naughty bits.
When I woke in the morning, Kyle was snuggled up to my back, with one arm cuddling my chest. In many ways, he was like a little boy who needed protection. Yeah, right. It was me who needed the fucking protection!
About fifteen minutes later, Kyle followed the wafting smell of bacon and eggs from my room to the kitchen.
"I'm sorry about last night."
"I heard you."
"You weren't asleep?"
"Nope. Just pretending. You OK now?"
"Yep. You'd been crying."
"I felt like going home, but that would've only made things worse."
"Hey, yesterday is yesterday. OK? It's gone. Forget it."
Kyle didn't hang around after breakfast 'cause he'd promised Wingnut that he'd go surfing with him. "There should be an offshore wind, which will mean nice, glassy swells."
On New Year's Day, Kyle, Steph, Carol and I hiked through to Ratanga for the 5FM concert. We'd all had a fair bit to drink, but we behaved... and it was a total blast. A couple of guys tried to hit on Steph and Carol but they didn't get far. The girls told them to fuck off. And I'm sure my glare sorted the guys out as well. When it came to glaring, I was an expert.
One of the main reasons we went to the concert was to celebrate passing our finals... a major milestone in our lives.
It was about 5am by the time we got back to the 'hood. We all went straight to the beach for a swim, and to watch the sun rise over the mountain. Kyle's fav spot.
I was wearing white briefs, which became instantly transparent in the water. But I didn't give a fuck. It wasn't as if the other three guys hadn't seen my cock already. The girls wussed out, though. They were both wearing white underwear, and decided against going for a swim. Kyle was wearing boxers, but they didn't hide anything either once they were wet.
The wind had sprung up during the night, which made the beach a bit cold. We decided to go back to my place to sleep. Well, eventually sleep. Carol and I took over my mom's room, while Steph and Kyle slept in my room.
In the morning, after showering and getting into a fresh pair of boxers, I was in the kitchen cooking breakfast for everyone.
"Your sheets are kinda starched," Kyle said with a big, cheeky grin as he wandered through the doorway.
"You know where the laundry is."
"Thought I'd leave the washing to you... might calm you down a bit. You and Carol were making a helluva noise last night."
"And you guys weren't?"
When the girls arrived, fully dressed, Kyle started teasing Steph about checking out my bod. Yeah, right. I knew who was checking me out, and it wasn't Steph. Well, not as much as Kyle was. The guy was totally fixated. Every time one of my muscles rippled, he'd go fucking mental.
"Don't start anything, Kyle."
Carol didn't say much, probably 'cause I'd exhausted her during the night. And it wasn't long before Kyle and Steph were back to being their normal lovebird selves.
Later at the "office", the guys and I were busy sanding and cleaning a yacht. It was taking forever, but I was enjoying the work. Physical labor was something I relished with a passion, whether it was just plain exercise or building something. Apart from that, the atmos of the harbor and the magnificence of the sleek yachts was such a cool environment to work in. It beat the fuck outa pushing a pen and shuffling paper.
After work, I called in to see Kyle at the shop.
"Hey! How's it going?"
"We're sanding down a yacht."
"My sales are up. We've got a sale on."
"It's taking forever, though."
"The boss is pretty chuffed."
"Yachts are such beautiful things."
"I think I might get a raise."
"Are you listening to me?"
One of the things I didn't wanna tell Kyle about was a job offer I'd had. A dude came around to the harbor and was pretty impressed with my work. "I'll double your salary. And don't worry about accommodation. I'll take care of it." My first thought was that he was gay, but he wasn't. At least, he didn't give me that impression. My second thought was that it would give me an opportunity to get away from Cape Town, and shitforbrains in particular. Life at home wasn't getting any easier. I needed space. I needed time alone to sort things out in my head.
Meantime, the SCUBA diving thing was coming along. All Kyle and I had done so far was practice in a pool. We were supposed to take a real dive but Christmas and New Year's had gotten in the way. When we finally got the chance, it was as hot as hell, and the wind was blowing like crazy. One of those days when the sun beat down on you like it was trying to melt you into the pavement.
Kyle's boss drove us to a place called Millers Point, outside of Simons Town, where there were a lotta rocky reefs. The original idea was that we'd do a wreck dive, but apparently Kyle and I weren't ready for that yet. "When you're inside a wreck, you can become disoriented. You don't know which way is up or down. We'll do a reef dive first."
"Hey, Kyle, I'm not sure I wanna do this."
"Chicken shit. If you bail out, I'll fucking drown you myself."
Neither of us had diving suits, but the guy lent us each a top and a pair of dive pants, the ones that buckle up under your crotch. I felt like one of King Arthur's knights wrapped in rubber instead of chain mail.
Then we had to test the SCUBA gear, air pressure in the tanks, various signals that we'd give each other underwater, and whatever else. Jumbo pilots had it easy by comparison, I thought.
Eventually, we jumped off the rocks and into the water. Hey, this was no pool with tiled walls and chlorine! This was the real fucking thing! We didn't dive all that deep 'cause we were diving on a shelf. But it was totally awesome, and enough to appreciate the full sensation of diving... another world, full of multi-colored creatures and plant life you normally didn't see, or couldn't even imagine. The currents were like a silent wind, which caused fern corals and various weeds to sway to and fro.
The most embarrassing thing was the two little guys -- the instructor's sons. Fucking tadpoles. They were totally styling in the water, and had obviously been doing this for ages. One of them was only ten, and he was like a total pro. Smartass little shit.
It seemed like we'd been underwater for ages, investigating all the nooks and crannies of the reef, which were home to a miriad of life, but it had only been twenty minutes. During that time, we saw penguins darting through the water like they were jet propelled. We kept an eye out for sharks, and saw a few pyjama sharks swimming on the sea bed. "Don't worry about those. They're harmless." Yeah, right. They were a lot more fucking harmless when I was on dry land!
It was a totally amazing experience, though. Almost like visiting another planet. For one thing, we were weightless underwater, just like we would've been in space. It was then that I realized that a forty-ton whale weighed nothing in its own marine environment. How awesome!
After the dive, the family invited us to dine with them at an expensive restaurant for lunch, but Kyle and I felt that they'd done enough for us already. "Can I drive you guys home?" But we declined again, and said we'd hike back. Hey, if you added up all the hitching Kyle and I had done over the years, we'd probably hitched a million miles!
It didn't take long to get a ride. "Must be my good looks," Kyle laughed as we ran toward the car.
"Yeah, right. Is your fly buttoned up?"
Inside the car, we discovered that our hosts were a Johannesburg family on holiday. They asked us about what we'd been doing, which prompted Kyle to become an instant expert on SCUBA diving. It was as though we had Jacques Cousteau himself on board.
"We were surrounded by man-eating sharks. Hundreds of them."
"Yeah, but it was cool. Nothing to worry about."
"How could you be so calm?"
"Well, it's like a mental telepathy thing. You don't bother them, and they don't bother you."
"You must be very brave!"
"Nah. Just regular guys. Right, Mark?"
"Yeah. Just regular guys," I replied, then couldn't help giggling my tits off.
"Why is your friend laughing?"
"It's a decompression kinda thingy. He rose to the surface too quickly. He'll be OK, though."
"Are you sure? He's quite hysterical."
"Yeah, well, Mark's like that. But he settles down after a while."
The family drove us practically all the way home, which was way nice of them. We thanked them, then paused by the roadside while we watched them drive away, and waved goodbye.
"What the fuck was all that shit you were going on about?"
"Never mind. Jeez, you're a fucking worry, Kyle. I dunno why I hang with you."
"You love me. You doing anything tonight?"
"Gotta connect with Carol. You?"
"I'll phone Steph. So you enjoyed the dive?"
"Twenty minutes was enough. But, yeah, it was an awesome experience."
"Sharks didn't scare you?"
"They scare you?"
"Yeah, right. You're so fulla shit, Kyle."
I found out later from Carol that Steph had gone out with some friends 'cause she hadn't expected Kyle and me to get back home as early as we did. So what was he doing? Home alone? Nah. He'd be OK. There was always Wingnut.
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