finger at his ass, and then got it right in.
‘A walk?’
‘Just in the woods.’
‘Right.’
They went down to the harbour for breakfast, and then walked far up the beach to find a quiet spot. Dan undressed under a little towel, he wriggled into his swimming trunks before he let the towel fall, and Billy thought this was the sweetest thing he had seen in a very long time. It was already hot. The sea was big and languid, dropping slow waves on the sand. They waded right in. Billy splashed about a bit and ran back up to the bags while Dan floated on the swell, watching his toes. Then he reached over into a lazy crawl. A bunch of guys ran out of a beachfront property, shedding flip-flops and shorts and they ploughed into the water, all brown backs and white glutes. Billy could feel their skinny-dipping pleasure as the sea swirled higher, and two of them turned to kiss in the waves. He watched them for a while, then squinted after Dan who was quite far out now, his silhouette made uncertain by sunlight on the water.
Minutes passed. Dan was so small in the distance that Billy could not tell if he was heading out or coming home. He sat there, suncream in hand, waiting for Dan to turn back in and, after a long while, it seemed that he had – definitely, Billy thought – Dan was definitely closer now. The figure switched from overarm to breaststroke; Billy could make out his pale features and his water-darkened hair. It was Dan, of course it was. He was right there, just beyond the breaking waves. He dived under, with a curving bob and scissor kick of his long white shins, then surfaced and lay on his back for a while. Each swell that lifted him set him down closer to shore until he turned to catch a breaking wave, scrabbling as he rode the surf, with his mouth pulled down. He ended up on his hands and knees on the sand and he considered this for a moment, before standing heavily to his full height and walking on to dry land.
Billy shifted on the stripy towel, trying to look indifferent.
‘What took you so long?’
Dan, when he sat down beside him, was wet, cold and very solid.
‘I was swimming home.’
‘Oh my.’
‘Just over there – see? Three thousand miles thattaway, that’s where I am from.’
‘You miss it,’ said Billy.
‘Fuck no.’
Dan eased his goose-bumped legs straight, then lay down carefully in the sun. His muscles jolted and relaxed and after a while he was still. The wind was warm. The waves arrived one by one on the shore. Dan picked himself up a little and set his heavy, wet head on Billy’s chest. Then he moved down to settle his ear in the soft arch beneath Billy’s ribs.
Billy lay there looking up at the blue of July. He wondered if he should put a hand on Dan’s drying hair and then decided against it. For some reason, he remembered a boy at high school – not good looking as Dan was good looking – a boy called Carl Medson.
‘I knew this guy once,’ he said. ‘Like when I was sixteen.’
‘And?’
Carl Medson’s sister was slick with lip gloss and his mother flirted with Billy in a truly disturbing manner. She was kind of mad. There was a paper seat on the toilet, and when you opened the refrigerator, everything in there was covered in Saran Wrap, even the cartons and jars. Carl Medson moped after Billy for, like, a year though they never did anything except sprawl around in his bedroom listening to music, until Billy couldn’t take the suspense any longer. One day he let his hand drift – joke! – on to Carl’s package and the next thing you know – pause, move, pause again – he had Carl Medson out of there and in his hand. And Carl has one of those dicks where the foreskin doesn’t roll back – Billy’s never seen it before – a little tight ring, like the mouth of a string bag, and tucked in, down there, a sad, locked-in dick. You know? Let me out!! Like you are supposed to stretch it, as a kid, but he had never touched himself, not ever. And Carl just
‘A walk?’
‘Just in the woods.’
‘Right.’
They went down to the harbour for breakfast, and then walked far up the beach to find a quiet spot. Dan undressed under a little towel, he wriggled into his swimming trunks before he let the towel fall, and Billy thought this was the sweetest thing he had seen in a very long time. It was already hot. The sea was big and languid, dropping slow waves on the sand. They waded right in. Billy splashed about a bit and ran back up to the bags while Dan floated on the swell, watching his toes. Then he reached over into a lazy crawl. A bunch of guys ran out of a beachfront property, shedding flip-flops and shorts and they ploughed into the water, all brown backs and white glutes. Billy could feel their skinny-dipping pleasure as the sea swirled higher, and two of them turned to kiss in the waves. He watched them for a while, then squinted after Dan who was quite far out now, his silhouette made uncertain by sunlight on the water.
Minutes passed. Dan was so small in the distance that Billy could not tell if he was heading out or coming home. He sat there, suncream in hand, waiting for Dan to turn back in and, after a long while, it seemed that he had – definitely, Billy thought – Dan was definitely closer now. The figure switched from overarm to breaststroke; Billy could make out his pale features and his water-darkened hair. It was Dan, of course it was. He was right there, just beyond the breaking waves. He dived under, with a curving bob and scissor kick of his long white shins, then surfaced and lay on his back for a while. Each swell that lifted him set him down closer to shore until he turned to catch a breaking wave, scrabbling as he rode the surf, with his mouth pulled down. He ended up on his hands and knees on the sand and he considered this for a moment, before standing heavily to his full height and walking on to dry land.
Billy shifted on the stripy towel, trying to look indifferent.
‘What took you so long?’
Dan, when he sat down beside him, was wet, cold and very solid.
‘I was swimming home.’
‘Oh my.’
‘Just over there – see? Three thousand miles thattaway, that’s where I am from.’
‘You miss it,’ said Billy.
‘Fuck no.’
Dan eased his goose-bumped legs straight, then lay down carefully in the sun. His muscles jolted and relaxed and after a while he was still. The wind was warm. The waves arrived one by one on the shore. Dan picked himself up a little and set his heavy, wet head on Billy’s chest. Then he moved down to settle his ear in the soft arch beneath Billy’s ribs.
Billy lay there looking up at the blue of July. He wondered if he should put a hand on Dan’s drying hair and then decided against it. For some reason, he remembered a boy at high school – not good looking as Dan was good looking – a boy called Carl Medson.
‘I knew this guy once,’ he said. ‘Like when I was sixteen.’
‘And?’
Carl Medson’s sister was slick with lip gloss and his mother flirted with Billy in a truly disturbing manner. She was kind of mad. There was a paper seat on the toilet, and when you opened the refrigerator, everything in there was covered in Saran Wrap, even the cartons and jars. Carl Medson moped after Billy for, like, a year though they never did anything except sprawl around in his bedroom listening to music, until Billy couldn’t take the suspense any longer. One day he let his hand drift – joke! – on to Carl’s package and the next thing you know – pause, move, pause again – he had Carl Medson out of there and in his hand. And Carl has one of those dicks where the foreskin doesn’t roll back – Billy’s never seen it before – a little tight ring, like the mouth of a string bag, and tucked in, down there, a sad, locked-in dick. You know? Let me out!! Like you are supposed to stretch it, as a kid, but he had never touched himself, not ever. And Carl just
Similar Books
