Chapter 2: Night Clubbing

I took the ferry to Airlie my first weekend off the Island.

My mum had relatives in Airlie, and our uncle had rented us their old house just on the back of the main tourist area of Airlie. The place was run down but clean. It was also in a great spot in that my brother Ryan only had to walk down the hill for about a klick to get to where he worked.

The fact we didn’t own a car wasn’t such a hardship, but it could get annoying. Most of everything else we needed was also within a reasonable walk from the house. We only got a taxi to get the weekly shopping home.

The old Queenslander style house had two bedrooms upstairs. They were on one side of the lounge room. Across the back end was the kitchen, dining room, a separate loo and a bathroom with the shower over the tub. A long wide enclosed veranda ran from the kitchen to the front door on the seaside of the house. Two sets of doors opened into the lounge room and the end doors into the kitchen.

The other veranda ran down to the bathroom, and the two bedrooms had doors that opened into this veranda and into the lounge room on the other side. If you left all the doors open and then opened the louvres on the porches, you got a gentle breeze through the house.

The owners had built-in the underneath section of the house. It had a large entertainment area, two big bedrooms and a covered area for two cars. They had added a small bathroom that had a loo, and a sink in one corner and a shower rose that just sprayed onto the painted cement floor. We never bothered to hang a shower curtain for it.

Ryan had managed to find two mates to move in with us to keep the rent down. I had to pay for lodgings on the Island and my share of the rent for the house, so I don’t mind having that cost halved. Since I was working on the Island and not there, for the most part, I had shifted my stuff into the smallest room upstairs.

Initially, I had one of the bigger rooms downstairs. I had swapped the doorknob on the small room to one that locked. I’d put a bolt across the doors to the veranda so they couldn’t get in that way.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my brother, but I didn’t know crap about the guys who moved in while I was on the Island. I don’t like people going through my things. While I didn’t have a lot of value other than my computer, what was mine; was mine. My music collection was probably my most next prized possession.

I had copied all my original cassettes and my records on to cassette-tapes, so if the copies went missing, which they did with annoying frequency, I still had the originals. My stereo was also expensive and had the ability to copy the songs from my records onto cassettes.

I’d told my brother if it got damaged, I’d lock it up while I was away. Fortunately, my brother knew I loved that stereo and the boys were banned from touching it. He was the disc jockey when I wasn’t there. Luckily, the neighbours weren’t close on either side, and no one was behind us with the hill to be annoyed by any loud music from our house.

One of the boys, Brian, had an old Holden station wagon and he was able to pick me up from the wharf. The boys weren’t working until later that night. Brian was a trainee Chef and the other lad, Shorn, was a bartender. They were both a little older than Ryan but younger than me, and we got on okay.

The boys sure knew how to party hard. While it was the weekend for me, it was the main part of the working week for my housemates. Ryan and Brian left for work at four and finished around midnight. Shorn headed off about six and knocked off around two in the morning.

Since they all worked at the same establishment, Ryan and Brian, often headed into the nightclub side after work and would help the night staff clean-up unless they got lucky and picked up a chick. So, the boys tended to not get home until two-thirty to three in the morning.

Ryan is bulkier than I am and a touch shorter. He has the same coloured eyes, and he is more of a ranger than I am. He is more body conscious than I am too, and he keeps himself very fit. People may not realise it, but being a kitchenhand can be hard yakka. He told me that he often picked up a bit of extra pay helping the bouncers on the weekends.

Trust me, while my little brother may look cute and harmless, you didn’t want to take him on in a fight if you wished to walk away. Our dad had liked doing Taekwondo, so he had us boys training from an early age. He had also done traditional boxing in his youth, so we were taught it as well.

Ryan and I never really worried about our safety when out, because we didn’t have a lot of trouble looking after ourselves. We didn’t go looking for fights, but we wouldn’t be punching bags either.

Personally, I reckoned Ryan was the better looking of us, and he was a lot more outgoing. It always amazed me how often I scored when we were together. But then again, my tastes were a bit broader than Ryan’s were. He knew that I liked both sexes, and while he was strictly hetero, it didn’t bother him that I wasn’t.

We’d had a few discussions about my sexuality when he first started hanging out with me when he turned eighteen. Fortunately, for me, my mother had a couple of gay friends when we were growing up. She had explained to us that some people were attracted to the opposite sex and some of us to the same. It was just how our brain chemistry worked.

When I first realised, I was attracted to both at sixteen, I had a heart-to-heart with my mum. She is an amazing lady in that she would listen and not condemn. She just told me to be careful and use protection.

Being cute and muscular, it was amazing how often Ryan attracted the guys. He’d deflect them off onto me, he would even pick possible fun partners out for me. If anyone heard us talk, they would think he was bisexual like me, as we actively discussed the assets of males and females.

I learned on my first weekend home that Shorn was gay. Brian had been a bit funny about it when he found out, but Ryan had explained about me. He told him if he couldn’t live with it then he’d have to find someone else to move in. Brian was a bit reserved with me when he met me, and Shorn had seriously checked me out.

Shorn was bulkier and shorter than Ryan and I were. He wasn’t really my type, but we got on well enough. Brian was more my type as it seems that I prefer men of a similar body type to mine. As far as looks went, he was a ranger, also a preference of mine, but I knew not to approach him.

Brian eased up a bit over the weekend and a few drinks. I let him know that he was safe with me, and he started opening up a bit more. I was glad my brother had picked some good flatmates. Both the boys were moderately tidy. My clean-freak brother kept them in check.

I was the messy one. I like my work areas clean and didn’t like a dirty kitchen, but for some reason, I hated cleaning my bedroom. It was my sanctuary and a reflection of my mind in many ways. I kept the other areas tidy because I was conscious of safety at work and in communal areas.

I mooched around the house when the boys weren’t there. I was just relaxing, and I found Ryan had maintained my favourite spot to curl up with a good book and a pot of tea. I had set up my end of the veranda off our bedrooms with a work area for my tinkering with electronics, my computer and a reading chair.

Ryan had discouraged the boys from using that veranda, as I considered it my area. Plenty of other spaces could be utilised by them, so they had respected Ryan’s wishes. The better views were from the other veranda off the lounge, which was why I had claimed the back one.

I had arranged to meet the boys at the nightclub that night. Shorn told me how to come and find him when I turned up as he served in the back bar. This bar had a large, curved glass wall that separated it from the dance floor and the other bar below us. It was set up so you could watch the dancers from just above them.

The plate-glass muted the loud music so you could actually talk to the people with you. The bar was also frequented by the slightly older group that didn’t enjoy waking up with tinnitus in the morning. You could still go down the flight of wide stairs on either side, to the dance floor if you wish.

I loved the place on sight. Downstairs was hoping by the time I got there around ten o’clock. I pulled up a stool at the bar, and Shorn smiled and came over to serve me. He whispered to the two girls with him as he passed them. I assumed he was telling them I was Ryan’s brother. I soon found that I only paid for every second drink.

Both girls checked me out, and I winked at the sexy piece with the short blonde bob. She was a bottle blonde, and the dye had turned her brunette hair into a honey blonde. The other girl looked at her friend with surprise and then speculation. She probably considered herself the better catch with her slim figure and long black hair.

The blonde had the fuller figure. She wasn’t fat, just curvy and I felt that she had a more friendly personality. As I have mentioned, I didn’t mind finding a girl who has hips to hold onto, even though I prefer my guys slim. It’s weird how our brains worked.

Shorn already knew my favourite poison and soon had a Bundy Rum and Coke in front of me. I thanked him and turned to look over the room. The dress here was semi-casual. They didn’t let you wear thongs or T-shirts, but dress or denim shorts were more the norm than long pants. It was too bloody hot here for longs, especially during the day.

I was wearing a simple pale blue buttoned up shirt tucked into acid washed denim shorts and black loafers without socks. Socks were also optional. Looking around the room, I was conservatively dressed. Polo-shirts or button-ups were typical for the blokes, and lacy tops were common for the girls.

Tight, acid-washed jeans of varying lengths were worn by both genders. Short, hip-riding skirts were also popular with the girls, and some of them even managed to wear a cute dress. I had to admit that some of the girls probably should have worn the jeans. I didn’t find pudgy bellies, rolling over the top of a short skirt, at all sexy.

I did like the variety of shirts and tops the girls wore, and I was always happy to enjoy a nice set of tits flashed at me. I wasn’t that fussed on size either. Either they looked good, or they didn’t. I had nothing against them being propped up on view or hanging free. Some of the bigger girls possibly should have used a bit more support, but I had no problem watching their nipples rub on the thin material of their blouses.

I’m a bit of a studier of body language and loved watching people interact in the mating game. I’d watch a table for a bit, and I’d soon work out if a bloke was going to get lucky and if he wasn’t. I’d identify the girls who put out, the flirts and those that took holiday romances too seriously.

Also, easy to pick were the long-suffering friends, the protectors, the possessive ones and the flighty ones, both male and female. The ones I spent time looking for were the predators. Trust me, they came in both sexes. Their body language gave them away more often than not.

Oddly, I tended to rescue the blokes more often than I did the sheilas. Most sheilas liked to go out with friends to back them up. Occasionally, the friend got involved in their own romance, or they just got tired of trying to keep the friend that wouldn’t learn, out of trouble and left them to it.

Blokes, however, were more likely to fly solo. Men are no different to women in that we are all trying to connect with someone. That someone special who would enhance our life and give us a reason to get up and go to work each day or to look after the kids and our loved one.

I’d never gravitated to the gay scene. I’m not gay, I’m bisexual. I tend to fuck more females than males. My preference is a couple if I can find them. I’ve learned a lot of bi-guys settle for a sheila but like a bloke to share with their girlfriend or wife for a bit of fun.

I wasn’t looking for permanent, so I was always happy to be the spare and walk away when I’d had enough. I am, however, more careful these days, as many couples have one party that has a greater desire for a third than the other person does.

I also prefer to spend some time getting to know the couple rather than just jump into bed with them. Even if I don’t plan to have the relationship last more than a few weeks, or if it is to be just the once.

I never go home with a drunken couple, not since my first experience anyway, that was nasty.

Back to the blokes that I rescue.

We live in a dark world. What some people do to others is enough to make you cry rivers of tears. Being openly gay in the late eighties to nineties was not always good for your health. With the spread of the HIV virus, gay bashing was a fear induced knee-jerk reaction by some and an excuse for others to enforce their narrow world view.

Some people still act as if the world is flat, and you will never convince them otherwise. Many young men, who are confused by their sexuality, often end up in horrible situations. Many don’t make it to their late teens without learning the hard way that unscrupulous people will take advantage of them.

In the six-plus years that I’d been sexually active, I’ve had about a dozen male partners and about four times as many female ones. More than half of them were one-nighters or a long weekend. They were purely for sex like with Kally. Most of the rest lasted one to two months but not much longer.

My longest lasting relationship had actually been with a bloke that I had rescued when I was nineteen. It hadn’t been my intent to get involved with him, and it took him several months to convince me that he was serious. Even then, we didn’t behave like a couple in public.

Most people just assumed we were good mates because we worked for the same company and shared a flat. I’m not sure about how much I loved him now, but at the time, I was committed for the duration. Darren called it off after a year and walked out of my life. I was devastated, but that’s life.