Queermance Anthology, Volume 2

by Queermance Anthology- Volume 2 [MM-FF] (retail) (epub)

  Behind him he heard a wail of pain, either from Xander or the man he was fighting, but he had no time to look around; Neck-Tattoos was coming again. There was no time to think, no time to consider, but three years of muscle memory took over, flooded through his body, and left his brain quite far behind in the order of things. Neck-Tattoos had cottoned on to him now - and he was visibly angry at already having been beaten back once by such a small and apparently insignificant opponent. ‘Try that again, Karate Kid,’ he snarled. ‘Fuckin’ chingo, I’ll-‘

  Sam braced himself. The man hurled himself forward, fists flying. Sam ducked, using his relatively slight build to his advantage, slamming one punch to the ribs and kicking out behind him to the back of the knee. The man grunted in pain and whirled around, staggering. Sam shifted his backside towards him, reached behind for the hem of the baggy shorts under the singlet, bent his knees and threw Tattoos easily over his hip, using the man’s own weight to send him flying until he hit the ground with a thud.

  A siren in the distance. Sweat-stains, who had staggered to his feet and had looked like he was gearing up for another go, blinked owlishly as the lights above the alleyway were suddenly turned on. He seemed to make a decision, reached down to grab his compatriot by the tattooed bicep, and dragged him back towards the end of the alleyway, where a low fence was all that separated them from the street. In seconds they had disappeared from sight.

  Relieved of his attackers, Sam turned to see, first the barman standing in the doorway holding a cordless phone - clearly he had run inside at the first chance he got and dialled triple 0 - and then Xander, holding the last, struggling man in a reverse choke. Mr Knife was gasping in vain and scrabbling with blunt fingertips at Xander’s thick arm. The knife itself was lying discarded on the ground, useless, and as Sam watched, the frantic scrabbling subsided, the man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he went limp. Xander laid him gently on the ground, as though he were taking care of a friend who had had a few too many.

  ‘Is he���?’ Sam panted. His heart was pounding, he realised, but he hadn’t noticed until now. His head was spinning as his brain finally caught up with his body.

  Xander reached down and checked Mr Knife’s pulse. ‘He’s fine,’ he said. ‘Give him a few minutes.’

  The blond barman was gaping. ‘That��� was amazing,’ he gasped, one hand pressed to his chest. ‘That was like something out of a movie!’

  Xander grimaced. ‘If it was a movie there’d be awards and medals,’ he said. ‘Somehow I doubt that’ll happen this time. We better get out of here before the cops show up.’

  Sam blinked. ‘Why?’

  Xander looked up at him. Their eyes met. Something changed in Xander’s expression, but hard to read as it always was, Sam wasn’t sure what to call it. ‘Trust me,’ the big man said, so low and quiet it was barely audible over the already-approaching sirens.

  And, weirdly, Sam knew that he already did trust him. Xander was looking at him in a way that made his mouth go quite dry all of a sudden. ‘Yeah,’ he said, licking parched lips. ‘Okay.’

  Xander reached out and grabbed his arm.

  ‘Wait-‘ the barman protested as they retreated back through the bar, but they were already gone, slipping through the crowd and out of the main doors, not running but moving swiftly down the street until they reached a corner out of the streetlights with no pedestrian traffic. The sirens were drawing closer, and somewhere through the narrow gaps between the buildings they could see flashing lights amid the yellow lights of other cars. But here they were safe; they would not be seen if no one was searching for them.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Sam breathed, but before he could say anything else, Xander had turned and braced him up against the wall, bending down low, and his mouth was on Sam’s, lips pressing, tongue tasting, and for a few moments Sam’s whole world was that mouth, and his own pounding heart, the sweat drying cold on his scalp and making his hair stand on end, and the brick wall making its impression through his T-shirt and the seat of his pants. All the nerves in his body were on extra sense alert; he could hear the crackling of the gritty wall against his jeans, smell the sweat on Xander’s shoulders, feel everywhere his skin touched anything. And in the midst of it all, Xander’s mouth firmly and insistently against his, sucking, gasping, tasting. It seemed to last half a lifetime between stolen breaths.

  ‘Fuck,’ Xander muttered, when he finally pulled away - enough that Sam could breathe through his mouth again, but his back was still pressed hard against the brick, and his whole body was still tingling, fiery and oversensitive even to the air. ‘Sorry���’

  ‘… s’okay,’ Sam gasped. The final pieces of the Xander puzzle were falling quite firmly and loudly into place. How had he not seen it before?

  ‘You were very good,’ Xander growled, and Sam could feel him through both their trousers as he pressed up against him. ‘Two of them at once.’

  ‘They weren’t armed,’ he breathed, as Xander leaned close and his hot breath caressed the crook of Sam’s neck. ‘Your guy had a knife. You could have been killed… I didn’t even see what you did,’ he admitted.

  ‘I’ll show you later,’ was the muffled reply, and Sam thought, will you indeed? ‘I shouldn’t do this,’ Xander muttered then, apparently to himself, even as his hands slid under Sam’s shirt, exploring none-too-gently the smooth skin around his navel. ‘I’ve been so fucking careful���’

  ‘Yes… very,’ Sam agreed, rolling his eyes despite every instinct in his body telling him to shut up and let Xander get on with whatever he was about. ‘All those little adjustments���’

  Xander hissed and took a half step back. He actually looked guilty, Sam could see it even in the darkness of the alcove. ‘You noticed that?’ he said, low.

  ‘I couldn’t not notice.’ Sam cocked his head to one side, considering, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Yes, things were certainly starting to make sense now. ‘My form isn’t really that bad, is it,’ he said, a statement rather than a question since he felt he already knew the answer.

  The big man’s eyebrows knotted slightly in a frown. ‘Don’t get cocky,’ he growled. ‘No one’s perfect.’ He stepped closer again, one large hand curving around the back of Sam’s neck. ‘But no,’ he added. ‘It’s not that bad.’

  Sam tipped his head up and murmured happily, his arms uncrossing and reaching for Xander’s shoulders as he kissed him again. It was gentler this time, by relative standards, but he could still feel the silent, desperate demand behind it.

  ‘I knew it,’ he muttered triumphantly when his lips were finally free to speak.

  I just had to have some reason to touch you,’ Xander said flatly, with not quite as much guilt as before as he mouthed at Sam’s jaw. ‘The way you move��� fuck���’

  ‘That’s highly inappropriate,’ Sam said in mock protest, biting his lip as he did his best to ignore the growing pressure against his groin from Xander’s body pressing against him. ‘You’re my teacher!’

  ‘It’s not funny.’

  ‘It’s kind of funny.’

  Xander growled, low and hoarse, and Sam hissed his next breath as he felt large but nimble fingers catch on the button of his jeans.

  ‘SAM! SAM, ARE YOU OUT HERE?’

  Xander moved like lightning, suddenly standing two feet away, face hidden by the dark. Sam felt cold air in the space where he had been and moaned with disappointment, but did his best to get a grip on himself. Looking out into the street he saw two familiar figures approaching. Gathering his patience and trying to recite pharmaceutical ingredients alphabetically in his head, he stepped out into the streetlight. ‘Hey guys,’ he said, waving at Rob and Maddie as they approached.

  ‘Sam!’ Rob looked extremely relieved. ‘Where the hell have you been? The cops showed up - apparently there was a big fight out the back of the bar. We couldn’t find you, I was freaking out.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Sam said, shrugging, trying to rub the goose
bumps off his arms.

  ‘Have you seen Xander?’ Maddie asked.

  Unable to help himself, Sam glanced back into the alley. He already knew that he wouldn’t see anyone there, but his heart still sank a little when his searching gaze found only darkness and an abandoned MX paper on the ground. ‘He was here,’ he said, truthfully. ‘But I guess he left.’

  ‘As long as he’s okay,’ Maddie sighed. ‘Well this sucks. You guys want to go grab a drink somewhere else?’

  ‘Actually, I should really get going,’ Sam said, without quite meeting her eyes. ‘Exams, y’know.’

  ‘Right,’ Rob said. There was something in his expression; Sam wondered if he could somehow read the events of the last twenty minutes in his face.

  The last class of term was the following Wednesday. Sam took a shower for once and hung back afterwards, dressing and packing his uniform painfully slowly as everyone else filed out.

  ‘You coming?’ Rob asked as he went out the door of the locker room.

  ‘No, I’m good,’ Sam told him. ‘I have a ride coming. See you later.’

  He wished Linda a happy Christmas as she was locking up for the holidays. He walked to the corner of the next street, and waited, his heart pattering in his chest, his damp hair dripping cool water down the back of his T-shirt, cool and refreshing against the warm night air.

  A car drew up, its lights flashing once before it came to a stop beside him. Sam got in. ‘You know there’s not actually a rule against this,’ he said, dropping his gym bag into the back seat. ‘I checked. Why are we being all secret ops?’

  ‘That’s classified,’ was the answer.

  Sam raised his eyebrows incredulously. ‘So��� Korea��� was that before or after the army?’

  Xander reached out behind Sam’s head and pulled him forward. As their lips touched, and Xander coaxed Sam’s apart, firm but tender, Sam decided to let all his protests go for now. There would be more time for those sorts of questions later. At least he hoped there would be a later. Preferably quite a lot of later.

  ‘Finally,’ Xander growled, and let go with obvious reluctance. The car roared into life and Sam felt a thrill of anticipation.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asked, a little hoarsely.

  Xander smiled a sly smile, a dangerous smile. ‘My place,’ he said. ‘There are one or two things I still have to teach you.’

  THE GIRL FROM TGI FRIDAYS

  Dominica Malcolm

  ‘I love your costume,’ my server tells me, after taking my order, along with my neighbour’s.

  We are at TGI Fridays for their Halloween costume competition, and I am one of only two customers who bothered to dress up. There are more employees in costume than that! The other costumed customer wears a poor excuse for Sailor Moon; like she just threw on regular clothes vaguely the right colour, and wrapped a scarf around her neck. She’s not even wearing a necessary blonde wig. On the other hand, I’m in a full pirate getup - corset, breeches, stockings, boots, sword, headscarf, and a brown wig to hide my terrible washed-out purple coloured hair.

  My server has short, dark brown hair - shaved with hair clippers, but not bald - deep brown eyes, and skin that is neither fair nor dark. She wears stud earrings, and an Adam West style Batman costume. She looks at me and shares a friendly smile, with not just her full lips, but also her twinkling eyes, outlined with a thin layer of eye liner. Instantly, I feel my insides heat up, and I know I’m crushing on her.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, and then she’s off to place our order.

  ‘I am glad that you brought me here,’ my Norwegian neighbour, G��ril, says in her strong accent, carefully enunciating each word.

  G��ril and I are both expats in Malaysia, and we’ve been living across from each other in the same condominium for three years, but this is the first time we’ve actually gone out to dinner together.

  ‘Me, too. We should do this more often.’

  My husband is overseas, and my maid is at home with the children. I don’t get out much, because I still feel strange about even having someone else around who can watch the kids when I want to go out. Though we pay Ella more for the time she works than other Filipino maids are paid in this country, the wage seems far too low by Australian standards. Sometimes I think she’s with us because she hopes we’ll move back to Australia and take her too.

  When our Batman returns with our dinner, I read her name-tag, and say, ‘Thanks, Zara.’

  Zara puts her arm around my shoulder and starts explaining how the contest will work. ‘Now, for the competition, you will have to shout the loudest, “I love TGI Fridays”. The loudest person wins the hundred ringgit voucher.’

  I slink down into the booth. I have to be loud? I thought this would be judged on who actually has the best costume. ‘I’m gonna lose.’ A hundred ringgit is only about thirty-five Australian dollars, but I’ve never spent that much on a full meal with my family of four at the restaurant. I’d definitely love to win it and actually order some alcohol with the meal for once.

  ‘Don’t be like that!’ Zara’s enthusiasm evokes a tentative smile on my face. ‘You’ll do great.’

  When the competition time rolls around, I’ve already finished my cajun chicken and prawn pasta. I’ve had plenty of water to try and calm my vocal chords.

  Now I’m kneeling on a bar stool next to poorly-dressed Sailor Moon, and scream at the top of my lungs, ‘I LOVE TGI FRIDAYS!’

  Sailor Moon is next. Her decibel volume has got to be double my own. I didn’t stand a chance. When she’s declared the winner, I skulk back to my booth where G��ril awaits. Zara wanders back to our table, and hands me my consolation prize.

  ‘Your costume is still by far the best,’ Zara says. ‘But here, at least you can come back and have these free items on your next few visits.’

  I get a free dessert, free drink, and buy-one-free-one voucher for an alcoholic beverage. I thank Zara, pay the bill, and leave with G��ril.

  A few days later I return to the mall to watch a movie on my own, and stop by TGI Fridays for a drink afterwards. I don’t see Zara when I arrive. Someone else seats me. I recognise the employee from Halloween, but she doesn’t recognise me without the costume - without the brown wig - until I mention I was the pirate.

  After I place my order, I get my smartphone out and jump on Facebook. It’s been a few hours since I last accessed technology. Maybe something else has happened in the world.

  ‘Hey, Pirate,’ I hear, and look up.

  A wide smile crosses my face as I see Zara’s stunning eyes looking into my soul.

  ‘Bess,’ I say. ‘You can call me Bess.’

  ‘It’s good to see you back so soon, Bess,’ she says.

  I try not to blush. ‘I didn’t think people would know who I was without my costume.’

  ‘How could anyone forget you?’ Zara replies with a smile, then wanders away.

  I watch her for a while, as she cleans away empty tables. Somehow that’s more interesting than finding out what’s happening in the rest of the world.

  The woman who seated me brings me my smoothie and as I drink, I use my phone to write notes and ponder how I could possibly approach Zara in a way that would have her feel interested in spending time with me elsewhere. I want to see her again. I don’t want to have to come to TGI Fridays just to do that. But I’m shy. I’ve never asked a girl I barely know out on a date before. I don’t even know if she’s into women!

  Our eyes lock in a smile as she walks past my booth, carrying someone else’s order to another table. I bite my lower lip and wish there was just a simple sign I could give her to let her know I’m interested.

  My receipt arrives with an idea. I reach into my handbag and pull out a pen. I scribble on the back, Text me, Bess, and include my mobile number. Thankfully Zara comes back around to my side just before I leave. I hand her the note, and immediately walk out of the restaurant, too scared to see how she might respond.

  My husband returns fro
m Paris the following night. I haven’t heard from Zara, so when he gets in, Jon finds me curled up on our bed, sitting in our pillows with my arms wrapped around my legs.

  ‘I’m such an idiot,’ I say as soon as he drops his bags down on the bed.

  ‘No you’re not,’ he says, climbing onto the bed with me. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I met someone. Gave her my number. I stupidly thought she might want to spend time with me…’ I let out a long sigh. ‘But I haven’t heard from her.’

  ‘Bess, this is Malaysia. You can’t expect people to respond the same way they would back home.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say, rolling my eyes. ‘Gay sex is illegal here, I know.’ I squirm down into the blankets and roll away from Jon. ‘There’s still an LGBT community here.’

  ‘Which you haven’t even bothered to get into,’ Jon says, trying to comfort me by rubbing my arm.

  I shrug him off, and he leaves me to sulk on my own.

  Two days later and I’m already over it. I’m playing with a wooden train set with my three-year-old son, while the six-year-old is in school. My phone is in the next room, but I hear it chirp.

  ‘You keep playing, Billy,’ I tell my boy. ‘Mummy’s just going to see what that message is. It’s probably from Daddy.’

  I collect my phone from my bedside table and swipe open the messages. It’s from a number I don’t recognise, which usually means it’s spam, but I check it anyway.

  Hi Bess, its Zara from TGIF. I finish at 7 2day. Wan 2 c a movie?

  My heart pounds nervously. I can feel it in my ears. Jon will be home from work by then and can watch the boys. I phone Jon to make sure he’s okay with that, and he agrees, so I quickly check the cinema times and send Zara back a suggestion.