Aaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhh!!!!!! June 15 had already passed, and I was late getting B's anniversary graphic to him to put on his site. But I had an excuse. Didn't I always? I'd been away on a surfing trip with some German visitors. Anyway, I eventually emailed the graphic to B and he was suitably chuffed. I guessed patience became a virtue when you were a fossil.
South Africa
Part 95
Patience wasn't one of my virtues, though. No fucking way! I'd been hoping Mark would arrive on the yacht from Durban, but he hadn't. He phoned and said that he still had stuff to do on the boat before it was ready to sail. SHIT!!!
It was late June by the time I got a chance to email B again.
Hiya B
This is cool. I've actually got some time to relax and write some email. My buddy over here at the netcafe told me to go ahead without me paying anything. How fucking cool is that? He's a total guru with the comps here... always got one open and digging around inside the damn thing.
On Sunday night I went around to Wingnut's place. He's writing his last exam today and he's been working his butt off. Fact is I've hardly seen the little runt apart from in the surf. He's been hitting the books and he's done a turnaround. It's Jason who's done it for him, though.
Everything's been pretty quiet. I only saw Steph on Friday night 'cause she's also busy studying. She finishes her exams tomorrow. Steve's also writing exams, but he's always in the damn surf, anyway. He was bitching the other day about Tammy, and I thought, "Well, that's it. He's gonna dump her." But they're still going together, so she's obviously got him under some sorta control.
I haven't heard a fucking word from Mark. The last time I heard was on Monday last week. He was flying outa Johannesburg the same day. He said they were gonna be sailing from Durban the following Saturday. I phoned Joburg and some dude answered the phone and told me that Mark was already in Durban. The dude wouldn't - or couldn't - give me the contact number down there. So hopefully Mark will be in Cape Town today or tomorrow. If he left Durban on Saturday, he should've fucking been here already. Do I sound like I'm desperate? Hehehehe.
Hey, I saw the new Egor set on WorldBoys. Pretty damn awesome! He's a good looking dude with a really hot fucking body. Sorry for all the 'fucking'. A couple of those pics of Ivan laying on his back with his boner lifted away from his gut reminded me of Wingnut, 'cause that's the way his boner points as well.
Sorry the anniversary graphic was so late. The surf trip I was on was pretty damn cool. I had to try to teach one of the dudes to surf. But the other three were OK. They were Germans. How the fuck do Germans learn to surf like that? Anyway, they were pretty damn impressed with me. NO, NOT MY DICK!!! Actually, I wondered about them getting into each other, 'cept one of them was a bit chubby. Actually, a lot chubby. But he surfed OK.
I had to find some grass for them 'cause they were all into it, but I didn't know how to get it here. Fuck, it was so easy! I went up to a colored dude at one of the markets and just passed him the bucks. He knew exactly what I wanted. He passed me an arm. So the Germans were shitfaced every night at the campsite.
I connected with a chick I'd met before and spent the night with her. Her boyfriend was away on some business in Durban. He's some data comms project leader or something. Anyway, I gave her something to remember. :-)
Anyway, B, the dude here is getting all chatty and I need to move 'cause this has taken a lot longer than I thought.
Your friend
Kyle
I often wondered what B thought of me telling him about sex with girls. The first time it happened, a few years ago, he blew a gasket. Thought he was gonna expire or something. Said we were going in opposite directions, and that our friendship was doomed. So I wrote back and gave him both fucking barrels. Sorted him out good and fucking proper. He was OK after that.
It was about 1pm, Friday, June 29. I was at the shop arranging some of the merchandise. Same old, same old. Just another day. Then some dude behind me tapped me on the shoulder.
"Hey, fuckhead. You wanna show me some of that stuff?"
I was totally pissed off. Some customer who didn't even know me, calling me a fuckhead? Who the fuck did he think he was, giving me all that damn lip? I turned around and went totally ballistic. He looked totally fantastic. Tanned. Hair a bit longer. Wicked smile just the same as I remembered. He was wearing a light blue top like the yachties wear. Underneath was a white t. Hugging his narrow hips was a pair of blue Levis, and on his feet were blue and gray sneakers. He was buff. So totally buff! I could tell by the way his t was glued to his pecs. Yeah, well, I kinda noticed those things. Oh, my sack! He was looking so fucking cool! Not to mention relaxed, and totally fucking happy!
"Hey! I gotta go do something."
"Kyle?" he yelled as I headed for the door, "where the fuck are you going? You've been given the arvie off. So let's get the fuck outa here!"
"Seriously," I laughed. "Just give me five minutes. Please? There's something I must do real quick."
After sending B an email from the netcafe to let him know that Mark was in town, and that my birthday pressie had arrived -- PS: You won't believe how nervous I am as well! -- I ran back to the shop.
"Where the hell did you disappear to?"
"It was just something that I had to do real quick. Stop bitching. So how come I've got the arvie off?"
"I arranged it with your boss over the phone. You've got the whole weekend off. But you've gotta be back at work on Monday."
Then it was straight down to Cape Town station and onto a train.
"So take that goofy smile off your face," he grinned as the train pulled away.
"Can't help it. I thought I'd never see you again. You're looking good." Good? Fucking hell, he was looking totally magic. Such a sight for sore eyes! And he'd changed. He had a new air of confidence about himself; the way he looked; the way he moved.
"You, too, Kyle. Different, though. Your hair's longer." Then he laughed as his eyes studied the top of my head. "Still can't get rid of the spiky hair, though, huh?"
"It's the way I cut it. Shuddup."
As the train rocked and rolled along the rails, stopping every so often to pick up or let down passengers, Mark told me about the trip over to Cape Town.
"We hit a storm at sea between East London and Port Elizabeth, so we decided to pull into Port Elizabeth and hang there for a couple of days. It's fucking hard work, Kyle... sailing. When the weather's crap, there's a million things to do, and they all happen at once. Makes you feel alive and excited, though. Awesome. One time I was at the helm, trying to hold the yacht on course. But the fucking wind was so strong, and the waves kept looming up like huge green skyscrapers, that the wheel was trying to fly outa my grip. I was hanging on to that thing for dear life, man. It felt like my arms were gonna be torn from their sockets."
As he was telling me the story, I couldn't help visualizing this shirtless dude, with his muscles pumped, and his face muscles straining as he gripped the wheel with all his might, fighting against the full fury of Nature.
"I'm totally amped about the whole yachting thing, Kyle. Right now, I'm not allowed to be on my own 'cause I'm not licensed. But I'm gonna do a mariner's training program, which is all gonna be paid for. My dad's gonna pay for about half of it, and fingers is gonna chip in, as well as my old boss and some of the guys in Cape Town. Pretty cool, huh?"
"Why them?"
"They say they're gonna use me to help crew yachts, and get them delivered around the world. Fuck, Kyle! Do you know what this means? I would never have thought that things could turn out like they have. Now I understand why you're always on about the damn ocean. It's magic out there. Wild and free."
I had to smile at how damn excited he was. Like him, I could never have anticipated a situation like the one Mark had so easily and conveniently fallen into, and was so totally happy about.
But all too damn soon, we were home. My folks were over the moon to see him, which was totally cool 'cause it showed that my friend was their friend. Woohoo! And my mom hugged him a little longer than was necessary. That was just so damn nice to see.
"You should do modelling," she smiled. "All the girls would have pictures of you pinned to their bedroom walls."
"And my mom would, too," I joked.
Mark blushed big time, which made my dad piss himself laughing.
Once Mark and I were in my room, he began to unpack his shit. Then my dad arrived and placed the spare mattress against the wall. It was such a wonderful feeling to have Mark at home... just like he was part of the family. Actually, he'd always been accepted by my folks as one of the family. Our house was one place he could always call home, and where he'd always be more than welcome.
After supper, Mark said he had to go visit his mom. That was understandable, even though I didn't wanna see him go. Anyway, I helped my mom in the kitchen; doing the dishes and cleaning up. Yeah, right. For three fucking hours? I couldn't find enough to do. Time dragged. Each minute was like an hour!
Finally, he arrived home, and I was soooo glad to see that dimpled smile again! The visit with his mom had gone pretty well. She was really excited to see him, and even shitforbrains was happy; asking all the right questions, and telling Mark how good he looked... how he'd filled out, and how fucking buffed he was. On the down side, Mark had promised he'd spend Sunday with them. Damn! That was my birthday for fuck sake!
His next trick was to phone Carol. I was standing near the phone and I could hear her scream with delight when she heard his voice. She told him that she and Shane were going to the Paul Van Dyke gig at the Three Arts. So guess where we were all going? Uh, huh. I'd already bought tickets 'cause it was one of the hottest fucking gigs to hit Cape Town in ages. I had a ticket for Mark, Steph, and myself.
"So what's with Carol?"
"She's gonna meet me at the gig."
"What about Shane?"
"What about him?"
"He's gonna be there, and he fucking hates me."
"Ignore him."
When we arrived at Steph's house, she gave Mark a huge hug. Go figure. Who wouldn't? The gig was raging by the time we got there at about 10. Wall-to-wall, shoulder-to-shoulder people. And there were guys being turned away at the door. They were getting totally aggro 'cause they had tickets as well.
Finally we made it inside, and got sorted out with some drinks. Then Mark started searching for Carol. Yeah, right. It was like looking for a needle in a fucking haystack. The whole damn world was there! Plus some!
Eventually, Steph found Carol and Shane, and brought them back to where Mark and I were standing. Within a second, Mark and Carol had disappeared onto the dance floor, and got lost in the crowd. That left Steph and me with Shane, who was craning his neck trying to spot his girl and Mark. Fat chance. Steph chatted to him for a bit, and tried to calm him, but he was totally distracted and agitated... probably wondering what the fuck Mark was doing with Carol. After all, they'd been lovers before Mark had gone to Joburg.
Enough of that shit. I grabbed Steph and we hit the floor for a jive. It was a totally cool evening. Paul Van Dyke, plus International DJ, did a set of more than four hours, and some of the top SA DJs were there as well. A total rave!
By the end of the night, Steph and I had lost sight of everyone 'til we met up again outside the gig. Right away, Carol and Shane got into an argument. Bitch, bitch, bitch. "We looked for you," Carol insisted, "but we couldn't find you in the crowd." Shane didn't buy that one, though. The pair left us, with Shane totally pissed off. Could you blame him? I guessed not.
Meantime, Mark was plastered in more ways than one. He hardly said a word all the way back to Steph's place.
Once we'd arrived at Steph's front gate, I explained that I couldn't hang around too long 'cause I had to walk Mark home. She was cool about it, though. After a quick kiss, I said goodnight to Steph, then headed home with my buddy... and MY ROOM! WOOHOO!!!!Copyright © 2001 All rights reserved. mrbstories
