Loaded (13 page)

Five transcendental moments in my life, five moments in which my desire, my sexuality, my dreams were not clouded by confusion, ambiguity and regret. By which I learned the five commandments of freedom.

One. Walking out of the house with Johnny, dressed as Toula, walking past the stares and whispers of the neighbours. Thou shalt not give a shit what people think.

Two. My father screaming at me, you failure, you animal,
and my soaking in the contempt, suffocating in my guilt. Then watching my mother throw the same words, the same expressions to my brother as he is walking out of the house. Seeing him drenched in the stench of her venom. Not believing them for my brother. Not believing them for my sister. A glimpse, a slither of light in the darkness of the Greek family drama. Thou art not responsible for thy parents' failure.

Three. Watching Marlon Brando take off his T-shirt in
A Streetcar Named Desire
, a young kid watching the tiny image on a black and white screen. A young kid bursting with semen and sex. My first conscious desire for another man, a man I would like to grow up and become. Thou can have a man and be a man.

Four. The accumulated media crap in my head. The endless list of atrocity, so persistent, so constant that evil becomes banal. The four men of the Apocalypse riding on, again and again and again, through the TV set at six sharp every night. I grew up with these images, thought I had become immune to these images until one night I watched a community service ad sponsored by McDonald's, in which a Somalian woman placed her hand in boiling water, then ripped off the burnt skin from her arm to feed her dying child. At the end of the ad a journalist on behalf of McDonald's asked us to dig into our pockets in order that women like this may live. Thou shalt despise all humanity, regardless of race, creed or religion.

Five. An old man, effeminate and frail, fearfully offers me fifty dollars if I let him suck my cock. I let him do it for free. Next night I go to my first gay bar and pick up a handsome young guy with a good car and a good job. I only agree to fuck him if he gives me fifty bucks. He argues, but can't resist me. I'm sixteen. Thou shalt never steal from the poor or the old but fuck the rich for all it's worth.

Transcendence is the acceptance of the original sin. Realising that to be born human is to be born fucked up.
Transcendence is realising that people do not deserve pity or love or compassion. People deserve contempt. Or, as Johnny says, I may see no future but I got ethics.

A twirling ship comes for me and I try to hide in the left-hand corner. The shower of missiles, however, attack my ship and the screen flashes Game Over.

Con comes up and passes me a drink. He sits on top of a pinball machine and takes out a cigarette. He offers me one and I take it, light it and lean against the machine. He adjusts his position so his leg is resting against my side. I don't move away. His foot taps along to the exaltations of the disco chanteuse. Drags, they're bitches aren't they? he says. Waits for my answer.

–Sometimes. I take a puff of smoke in my lungs.

–She's not your girlfriend, is she? he asks pointing across to the bar.

–Who Johnny? No he's just a friend. My mouth is still dry, and I take a large sip. The blouse on the woman opposite is moving, small waves running up and down her back. Silk material which catches the flashing lights and sends moonbeams straight into my eyes. I force my eyes away to stop the hallucinations. Con is smiling at me. I never met a wog drag before. He drinks from his beer. Her folks don't know, do they?

–Sure, his old man does. I'm pissed off he keeps calling Johnny a she. His mother is dead.

–Sorry, I didn't know. It's probably for the best. I look at him, not understanding his response.

–I mean, he continues in Greek, if she wasn't dead seeing her son in a skirt would have finished her off. Con begins to giggle. I can't help it, I find myself giggling as well. His whole body is shaking and he puts his hand on my shoulder
to steady himself on the machine. He doesn't remove his hand, and I let it stay on me. Do your folks know? he asks me.

–Know what? I reply sharply. The hallucinations don't stop. Con's face is large, imposing, the bristles on his cheeks are making waves. My folks know shit about what I do, I answer, it's better that way.

–Sure is. He gets off the pinball machine and leans over to me, his mouth whispering words close to my ear. A streak of saliva hits my earlobe and I get a hard-on. You're a good-looking guy, Ari, he tells me and runs a hand over my thigh, across my crotch. He strokes my dick and laughs. Seems you think I'm a good-looking guy as well. I try to keep a straight face. The drugs, however, are making me giggle. An older man in a yellow top walks past us and stops to look at us. Con gives a disgusted groan. Fuck off old man, he says loudly, the words lost in the sounds of the arcade games. The man doesn't hear. He keeps looking at us.

–I want to fuck you. Con whispers the words hard against my ear. I'm drifting, I'm adrift on a chemical sea and the words take some time to connect with my brain. His hand is still stroking my cock, the older man watches us. My breathing is creating sonic commotion inside my head. Con is looking at me, waiting for an answer.

–No one fucks me. Con laughs. Sure, Ari, he says, moving his hands away from me. I didn't figure you for a girl. He says the word in Greek,
koritsaki
, a little girl. It sounds like he's laughing at me. Can I fuck you? I ask. Con stops laughing. For a moment, I think he's going to bash me. But he doesn't, instead he puts an arm around me and points a long middle finger to the man looking at us. Fuck off pervert, he yells loudly. The man blushes, throws us a dirty look and walks away. Other people hear us, they look up, murmur to each other, then look away. I catch sight of Con and me, reflected in the black screen of a video game, two dark boys, handsome, strong. We look good. Can I fuck you? I repeat.

The club is now crammed tight with people, mostly men. The music is a savage ceremony, men walking around each other, making eye contact, flirting, but flirting in a detached, cynical manner, to avoid the humiliation of rejection. The women are mostly on the dance floor, thrusting their hips to one another, oblivious to the games of male sexual conquest around them. A few very drunken men, or out-of-it men are putting on an aggressive manner and asking for sex from strangers, loudly and insistently.

It is nearing three o'clock and the club is drenched in sweat and amyl. The whole atmosphere is making me want to puke, I can't create a space to separate me from the other bodies milling around me and Con. I place a hand on the pinball machine, to steady myself. As from a distance I hear Con say something to me. Come on, his words make contact with me. Come on, he starts walking away, let's get out of here.

We walk past the bar and Johnny and Crystal look at us and I avoid their eyes. Past the bouncers and we are in the night air. A hot-dog vendor is selling hot dogs to some leather men. He looks stoned, bored and doesn't respond to the good-natured flirting. Taxis abound on the street, and the drivers have formed a small circle across the street from the club, big men with beer guts, slagging off the queens. Con walks in front of me and I follow him down an alley at the side of the club. Two young blond men are sharing a joint and we walk past them. Have a good time one of them calls out in a high falsetto.

At the end of the alley Con scales a brick wall and I leap up after him. The night is warm. We are in an abandoned factory yard, bricks, high grass and broken glass around our feet. Con looks around then he is on top of me, pushing me back against the wall and kissing me hard on the mouth. I kiss him back and he drags down the zip of my pants and grabs my cock. He kisses me. On the mouth. On the neck. On my chest. He pulls his dick out and thrusts it against
my balls. Suck me, I order, and he gets on his knees.

Shadows move and mutate across the walls of the derelict building.

–Suck me. I thrust my cock deep into Con's throat and he pulls away. I grab the back of his head and force his throat back onto my cock.

I look up to the night sky and a star bursts.

–Don't come. Con is back on his feet, both of us with our pants around our ankles. He thrusts against me and has a small brown bottle in his hand. He takes a sniff and passes it to me.

–I want you to fuck me. He whispers the words into my ears and the amyl takes effect. I eat his mouth, grab as much of his flesh as I can in my hands, lick my palms and knead the head of his cock with my fingers. He groans. Every breath he takes envelops my body, makes my flesh burn. I run a hand across his arse. It is taut and hairy. The rush of the amyl subsides.

–Okay. Let me fuck you. I turn him around and take a condom out of my wallet, slip it on my dick, spit into my hands and rub the saliva over the rubber. I push hard against his arse, find the hole and try to push in. He is tight and I can't enter. I lean back.

–Lick my fingers. He sucks on my fingers, then I push them into his arsehole. His head is leaning against the wall. A spider sits placidly inside a hole in the mortar. Above my head more stars are bursting. I kiss the back of Con's neck and push my cock into his arsehole again. This time I'm in and I start a hurried, frenzied fucking.

–It hurts. A whisper through clenched teeth. I ignore him. He groans again, bends completely over and searches the ground for a bottle of amyl. He sniffs and his cock starts to get hard again. He passes the bottle to me.

–Fuck me, wog. He groans.

The spider sits placidly.

My thrusts are getting faster.

Above me the stars are no longer bursting, instead some of them emit long rays to one another, a silver cobweb in the sky.

My thrusts are getting faster.

Con's cock feels huge in my hand.

I thrust hard into Con's arse.

–Oh God, this hurts. His pain excites me and I throw all of myself violently into his arsehole. I look up. The cobweb disintegrates in the sky, an explosion of silver light. I burst inside of Con and fall, slumped onto his body.

I pull out. The wet condom hangs loosely on the tip of my still erect dick, wet, full of my white semen. I dump it on the ground and Con stands up tall and forces me on my knees. His cock rubs against my lips and I take it in my mouth.

Con takes more amyl.

–Suck it, wog. His body is sweating. I close my eyes and concentrate on not throwing up. A deep thrust. A sudden stream of liquid. I drink it in. I don't spit it out, I keep his cock in my mouth drinking in all the sperm he is emitting. I think; is he clean? I stop thinking. Drink in the last of his come and he is groaning. He falls to his knees, sits beside me. I look up. No spider, no fireworks in the sky. We are two boys, sitting on tall grass and broken glass, our pants around at our feet. Our wet dicks fall limp across our sweaty legs.

Con takes out a hanky, wipes himself and passes it to me. He pulls up his pants and takes a cigarette from his pocket. He hands it to me, lights it, then lights one for himself. I am silent, slightly sullen. I'm no good at conversation after a fuck. I suck gladly on the cigarette. It clears the taste of come still on my tongue.

Con gets up, cigarette hanging from his lips and pisses against the wall. He takes a long time to get a stream going. Junkie.

–You clean, aren't you, Ari? I nod. I don't bother to ask
him the same question. He answers it for me, anyway.

–I'm clean. You're one of the few people I've ever let fuck me. He sits beside me again. It's because you're a man, he adds. I look over at him. He no longer seems quite the masculine Greek man I met a short while ago. His voice sounds an octave higher, he is waving his arms around. Fucking him has feminised him in mind. It could be the drugs. I hold out the handkerchief. You want this?

Throw it away. Save Mum from having to wash up my dirty work. He leans over and kisses me on the mouth. My desire has gone. I close my eyes, think of George and kiss him back. He's not George. I pull away. You going to tell Crystal? I ask him.

–Shit no. He throws me a puzzled look. What business is it of hers?

I stand up and take a piss. A long stream of urine, pissing out alcohol, water, amyl, marijuana, speed, LSD, ecstasy. Fuck, I groan, I'm drug-fucked. Con gets up as well and starts scaling the fence. I'll buy you a drink he calls down to me. Sure, I answer, I'll have a scotch. We jump the wall and head back to the loud music, to the cruising crowd. The sex we have just had is already disappearing from my mind.