by Caldon Mull
The inside of our room was a mess, we had just closed the door and left it. The beds were mussed from last night, damp towels were still strewn from this morning, and now our kit lay about, mostly on the floor. The air- con rumbled heartily and although pleasantly warm, the room smelled of man-flesh. Hot sweaty foot man-flesh, piss and fart man-flesh and other less readily identifiable odours and musk from five different sources of man-flesh. Still, so far this weekend it was home.
When we got back after the game I drew a hot bath with as much water as I thought I could get away with while the others milled around in the room. Shane had stretched out on the bed and was watching Cable, while Mark and Dean napped on the other bed. Faceless lumpy bundles tucked in completely under their quilt.
“Where’s Bobby?” I asked the blond giant lying on the bed in his jockstrap.
“Out somewhere. Says be back later,” he swigged a Gatorade, then stretched, his huge pectorals bunched like rope. A nasty bruise was purpling on his right shoulder. He looked up at me. “You gonna soak now?”
“Yeah, I reckon I’m not gonna wait until everyone else does. Take a nap too, unless you reckon there’s sights worth seeing?”
“Here?” His eyebrows beetled towards his fringe. “Heck no. Seen two of the three places already. You could go sit in the motel lounge and read last years’ papers, maybe take a walk and look at closed shops, they’ll be at this afternoons games. Maybe a jog in the woods, or a hike up the mountain.”
“Ah!” I shrugged “‘An’ the other place?”
“Trucker Lounge.” He gulped the bottle dry. “Tonight.”
“Yeah, well I’ll stick to my first plan then. You?”
“Ain’t decided yet. Soaking sounds like a good idea, though.” He moved his bruised shoulder, winced. “I’ll let you know.”
“Yeah, right.” I stripped kit off, folded and stacked them as best I could and grabbed the least damp towel from the top of the pile near the bathroom, then draped the rest over the air conditioner vents and set it for ‘hot’ and ‘fan’. Steam was billowing out of the bathroom and I walked inside and pulled the door shut. I dumped half a bottle of salts into the tub and added cold water until it wasn’t completely scalding. I stepped in, gingerly in stages and finally groaned with pleasure as I was completely covered, bath salts and heat doing its job.
Luckily the tub was big. Even I could stretch out fully and still not touch the sides. There was a lot of water in and still it wasn’t more than half-full. I drifted with just my nose out for a good few minutes, untied my hair and let it spread in the water.
My skin was just going wrinkled when a dark shape loomed between me and the light. “Move over.” Shane stepped into the bath. I sat up and curled in while he lowered himself. The water level rose to three quarter.
“Um, I can leave.” I muttered, annoyed.
“Nah. It’s your bath.” He said “Stay.”
He dipped himself then stretched out, legs wide, facing me. “C’mon, turn around, lie back.”
“Shane…” I started to say something.
“Jus’ do it, Andy.” He snapped, took a deep breath. More evenly he said “It’s OK, an’ no sense in wastin’ the bathwater.”
Grumbling, I turned around and stretched out like he said. My head rested against his chest and he bent his knees out of the water. I rested my arms on them, relaxed. I was jumpy in case he got a boner or something. I had no idea what I would do with that. Worse, Dean and Mark were next door and who knew when Bobby would come back, or with whom.
“There ya go.” He rumbled. He gently gathered my hair and draped it over my shoulder. I closed my eyes and dozed, breathing in time with him. “Just relax, ain’t nothin’ going on.” So I did, and there wasn’t.
After a half-hour, the water was only luke-warm, but I would have to get him to move in order to top up the water. The spigots were somewhere digging into his broad back. I decided against it.
“I’m getting out now. You gonna stay.”
“Nah.” He said sleepily “That worked a treat.”
I got out and dripped onto the floor towel while he heaved himself up. He took the towel from me and dabbed my hair dry while he was still dripping. Because he was so smooth, he was dryer than I was by the time he took the towel and bound it around his waist.
“I got you one from the air-con. That was a good idea. It should still be warm. It’s on the chair.” I grabbed the towel, and it was as he said.
“I got some oil.” He said “Would you rub my shoulder? I’ll trade you a back-rub.”
“Um, yeah. Cool.” I mumbled.
He bent to drain the water and walked through with me to the bed. He rummaged in his kit bag and brought out an ointment of some kind. “Careful, it’s strong.” He pulled off his towel and presented his broad back to me. I saw how the bruise had spread around to above his shoulder blade. It must’ve been a huge whack he’d taken. In the next room, the last of the water gurgled down the plug.
Dean and Mark slept blissfully on the bed next to us. Dean was snoring softly.
“Nah.” I looked at the bruise. “You’d better lie down. I’m gonna have to touch you, lots.” “OK, whatever.” He shrugged lopsided. I could tell the shoulder was stiff and hurting. “You want me to put on shorts?” I fidgeted, uncertain of how to go about this.
“If you want, just don’t drop any of that stuff on dry cloth, it’ll chew through. You have to wait for it to be absorbed into skin and evaporate before can put clothes on. Nah, don’t… better that way.”
“OK, bare-ass it is.” I laid the towel down on the bed. Even damp, it would be better than killing the sheets and the mattress.
“Don’t worry ‘bout any o’ that.” Shane groaned, twisting to lie down “‘Cause I’m not.”
He flipped onto his belly on the towel and spread his arms out. I mounted his hips and sat on his ass. I poured a palm full of the stuff and rubbed my hands together. It stung. I decided to be careful not to drop any on my naked lap. I hated to think what the stuff would do to… more sensitive… skin. I kneaded the oil into his skin on his shoulder and rubbed under the bruised shoulder blade. He groaned into the pillow. There wasn’t anything broken, far as I could tell. I carried on, squeezing the thick ridges either side his spine, and on to his neck muscles, squeezing and squashing the muscle and corded ligaments.
Then I started his lower back and pressed from above his ass thumbing outwards from his spine. I grabbed his oblique’s from above his hipbones and squeezed them until the bottom of his rib- cage. I didn’t rush, and I made sure the oil had been rubbed in for the most part. When my hands were tired, I slapped his ass and said “I’m done.”
He murmured into the pillow. “Thanks.”
I pulled my knees away from his hips and leaned off his ass. My sack was sweaty where it had pressed against the top of his crack, but I didn’t have a hard-on thankfully. I wondered if he would punch me if I had? I just couldn’t read him. I lay down, moving his arm out of the way, dropping it into the small of his back and draped the quilt over both of us, rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. I slept like dead.
“Oh yes, he’s awake.” Bobby’s face loomed into focus as I blinked. “Whasup?” I sat up slowly, stretched.
“Dr. Melker’s snake oil, evidence of a hot bath and several sleeping jocks.” Bobby stage whispered “What has your captain been missing?”
“Ungh, nothing going on.” I could feel the start of a sprain in my calf I hadn’t felt before “Where you been?”
“Some new plays.” Bobby shrugged, grinning like a boy on Christmas Day. “Time for some work.”
“Ah, man.” I grumbled but sat up anyway and took a wad of crumpled jotter pages from him. He bounced past my legs into the middle of the bed and started to harass Shane. A meaty arm reached out, scooped him and tucked him in against the huge bundle in the quilt. Bobby roared with laughter and thrashed quite pointlessly. He was trapped.
I waited for his to stop flailing th
en leaped on him and tickled him till he cried. Shane’s good arm kept him snagged at the waist while I jabbed Bobby’s ribs and tickled his ears.
“More plays, eh…” I mock-snarled at him “This what we get for winning our first game… You little punk, I’ll show you gratitude… More plays… hold him still, Shane…”
“Stop Andy, stop!” Bobby shrieked, hysterical “I’m gonna pee…”
“Hey, whachadoin’?” Dean and Mark blinked at me owlishly from the other bed.
“New plays.” I stopped tormenting Bobby, kneeling over him while his giggles and chuckles died down.
“Eh, crap!” Dean shrugged and waved a hand dismissively “Carry on.” He bobbed over the springs and walked through to the bathroom for a piss, shorts tented. Mark leaned forward on an elbow and collected the scattered jotter papers from my pillow.
I made to tickle Bobby again. “Noooooo…” he shrieked, grinning.
Instead I dived on top of Shane and play-pummeled him. “Let him go, dumbass! You’ve already eaten today, ya big lunk, there’s not even enough meat on him for a stew…” I turned up the volume, bellowed at the top of my lungs “Help! Help! Somebody, Shane’s hungry an’ I can’t find Bobby’s leg…” The bedsprings groaned and squeaked, but I was making no impact on Shane at all. The boy was rock-solid.
The quilt flipped up and a huge pale shape loomed behind it. “Oh… shit…” I goggled as a grinning blond mountain landed on top of me, squishing me into the springs “Ooooof…” He had pinned me, my face pressed against his chest, my legs flailing, heels bouncing off his kidneys. My hips were pinned between tree-trunk thighs. I had no leverage at all, I struggled weakly.
“So Captain…” his voice rumbled in my ear, through his chest “What to do with the mutineer?”
“I gotta think about that one.” Bobby’s voice muffled between Shane’s heartbeat and the quilt. “Can you hold him?”
“He’s a live one Captain, but I got him.”
“Good.” Bobby sniggered.
“These are great.” Mark said “Pretty much you’re playing like you got four quarterbacks.”
“Yeesh, Shane,” Dean said “Where you get that?”
“Fifth play, last quarter.” The voice rumbled. He was getting very, very heavy. Apart from that, we were both naked and I was feeling pretty exposed. I couldn’t think which was worse. I could feel where all the bits were lined up and what they were lined up for, and I started a cold sweat.
“Want me to look at it?” Mark said.
“Nah!” Shane pressed down harder with his body “Andy helped already. Owe him a rub.”
“Say,” Bobby muttered “Where is Andy?”
“Andy? Andyyyy!” A chorus started from everyone but Shane and carried on making a racket until the big man leant back suddenly, grabbed my hips and tugged me backwards, then slid a meaty arm to pinion me into place around the bottom of my ribs.
“Ah, there he is.” Dean muttered, nonchalant.
The door opened and Alex sauntered in. “Well, well, well. Two nekkid guys, three jocks and a room that looks like Hiroshima, mornin’ after. Could this be where we’re having our play strategy?”
“Hey, Alex.” Everyone mumbled. My ass was somewhere past Shane’s face, my long hair cascaded down to form a loin cloth for him and I was upside down, ass, nuts and cock flopping around, exposed to the blast of cold air that had followed in from outside.
“Yeesh, close the door wilja?” I muttered trying to maintain lost dignity. The beet-red face and bulging veins in my head didn’t add much weight to my protest.
“Yeah!” Dean agreed, smacking Shane half-heartedly on the head with a pillow. Every third plump missed his head and landed on my ass. “Bad Shane, bad, bad! Put the nice man down. Good Shane, goooood boy! Down!”
He slipped his hands back up my hips, gripped them and flipped me upright. I slid down his chest, head pounding from the pressure “Oooough!” His rubbery basket pressed into my kidneys.
“Serves you right.” Bobby sniffed.
“We gonna strategic or what?” Alex closed the door.
“Who put a flea in your ass?” Mark grumbled.
“You kiddin’? Yessssss. Go us!” His fist pumped the air. “First time in three years and we start the League beating the guys who nailed us first game of every season since ‘74!” Alex crowed, did a moon-walk over the carpet. “Man the local boys’ll go crazy trying to figure out what we done, an’ we don’t even know.”
“What are the plays?” Shane shoved me forward, leaned over next to Bobby. I just flopped down, chin resting on the corner of the bed, waiting for the blood to stop pooling in my face.
“This one means Andy and Dean pass everything on to us as soon as they get it.” Bobby pointed to a corner of the scrap paper. “This one means they pass to each other and run like hell, whoever’s clear.”
“An that one?” Shane pointed with his thick finger.
“This one means that you an’ Meat here run forward with the ball while they fuckin’ around with us four.” Alex grinned smugly.
“OK, got it.” Shane grinned. “‘The essence of design is simplicity’” he quoted. The room plunged into dead silence. We all stared at Shane for two silent minutes. He reddened, swallowed “Somethin’ I heard on the radio…”
“Oh, right. The radio.” Mark looked at him oddly.
“Ooookay, then. The meeting is officially over, and now it’s time to get ready to go to the Trucker Lounge and strut our stuff in front of the local pooontang.” Bobby grinned. He took the scraps of paper and flicked a zippo out. “Here’s hopin’ tomorrow goes well.” He dropped the burning pages into a metal waste bin.
“Alex, could you take this outside? We’ll meet you at supper. What’s on?”
“Mama Garibaldi’s spaghetti an’ meatballs.” Alex grinned and grabbed the burning bin gingerly. “See ya there.”
The dining room was full of jocks. A small, grey-haired woman with an imperious manner hopped into the room ever so often and gestured to a rangy kid to put another 2-gallon pot onto this table or that. With liberal doses of sharp-tasting parmesan cheese (obviously local) and the pungent waft of fresh oregano herb, the pots almost emptied themselves.
Alex and Bobby chatted to the old matron after dinner while the boys were drifting away from the table, there wasn’t a scrap of food left anywhere to be seen. Bobby handed over what looked like a check and the old girl palmed it quickly. Reaching forward she patted Alex on the cheek.
“You good boys, you gonna lose tomorrow, but you good boys.”
“Bless you Mama,” Alex grinned shyly “you still make the best food in the State.”
“Ah.” She waved her hands “You go and be young. Be careful.” She trotted out.
They joined me and we walked towards the Van’s. Any stray beers still inside them were being passed around. A plastic garbage bag full of empties was being dragged around the vans, Dean trotting around the outside of one, Jase around the other. When everything was clear inside and all the cans collected, they tied them and bundled them into trash cans in the car-park.
“Mama hates litter.” Bobby shrugged at my puzzled glance.
Dean and I bundled in, Bobby grabbed the wheel and we drove to a gas station to fill up
“Not open tomorrow.” Jase leaned forward, head between the seats and grinned his chip- tooth grin “Ain’t nothin’ open tomorrow ‘xceptin’ the Field.”
“Ah.” I muttered, knotting my hair and putting my beanie on. I turned up the collar of my Bomber jacket and stretched out my legs.
Bobby and Alex paid the bills, got the slips and we resumed our journey for another two blocks. A brightly lit, long square building away from other buildings in the town, was rocking. The car park was only a third full, but four of the vehicles were busses. There must’ve been at least three hundred people inside.
We piled out, breath misting in the air.
“C’mon everyone… rules.” Bobby clapped his hands for att
ention.
“Awww….” Everyone groaned.
“Lissen up!” Alex barked. There was silence.
Bobby listed on his fingers “One. There ain’t no fightin’ with anyone, we here every year and we neighbours. Two. I’m gonna take a van back at eleven, some of you need more sleep than others an’ we gotta big day tomorrow. I come back and everyone else leaves here at oh-one-hundred, an’ I mean everyone. Three. We going back to Mama’s lodge. No-one else. Got it? If you wanna do sum’tin, if you gotta do sum’tin and you can’t do it here… it ain’t gonna get done, right! Stow it, knot it, whatever… jack off if ya gotta, no one but us goes back ta the rooms tonight, Mama’s Rule number One!.”
“Yeah, Daaaad!” The boys jeered.
“Damn right!” Bobby grinned, “Ain’t none a’ these honeys gonna want to bone you pug- uglies. ‘Sides mosta them got their Ball-and-Chain here with them, which brings us to rule number…”
“One…!” The boys groaned.
“So guys let’s dance a bit, drink a bit and have some fun.” Alex finished, growled “C’mon cappy, I’m freezing my ‘nads off.”
“We’re done.” Bobby bowed, offered an arm to Alex.
“Why, ah do decla’ah.” Alex curtsied clumsily “A Storyville gentleman! Why thank you, sah.” He lisped in a falsetto voice, took the arm. The boys jeered and laughed, but the point was well made. Halfway to the door they sniggered and draped an arm around each other’s shoulders, and walked normally to inside the huge building.
Inside was warmer and smoky. A log fire dominated the one section of the long bar room, stalls with beaded curtains ran off the fireplace. Although you could see if there were people in the stall, they were shadows and a single dim candle-light from the middle of the table. The dance- floor was big –line dance big- and was fairly busy. There were rooms and corridors off these two rooms, leading to who knows where.