July 27th, 2006, 12:46
Sundown in Sunee - Part 1
The other evening, after my usual 1 or three Margueritas at the Panorama Bar,
I thought - what the hell, why not go slumming in Sunee? I hadn't been there in ages, and rumour had it that there had been quite a few changes to the area.
Being disinclined to walk, I ambled down the soi and cast my eyes over the motor bike boys on the corner, who were watching football on tv. Being the off season, business was quiet, so there were several to chose from.Always on the lookout for the rare and unusual, I saw Dik. He was watching the tv intently- it was obviously a crucial moment in the game, so I was able to quietly look at him. The long hair and wrap-around sunnies gave him an almost rasta look. I must have been staring, as suddenly he turned to me with a broad smile, and said "you want taxi?" he said, removing his shades and eyeballing me, his smile and gaze unwaivering. I felt blinded like a kangaroo caught in car spotlights, dazed and frozen to the spot.I managed to splutter out "Sunee Plaza", surreptitiously wiping away the saliva which had mysteriously appeared on my chin. Dik handed me a helmet, kicked down the bikestand, and I slid in behind him, my hands resting on his hips,my body spooning into the contours of his slender frame.
We merged into the helter-skelter of the night traffic, a kaledeiscope of petrol fumes, neon and night music, heat and sweat and bodies blurring with the adrenalin terror and exhiliration of the ride.
The kemagra which I had indulged in as an accompaniment to my last marguerita was less than subtley refusing to be ignored, and I released my hold on his hip and slid my hand downwards to his thigh. As I nuzzled into the hair on his neck, his rough hand covered mine and gently squeezed.
"You want go hotel? I not speak English good. My name Dik and I am gay"
to be continued..........
Dik kissed me gently on the lips, stroking my chest, his worker's hands contrasting with the silky velvet feel of his brown skin, his even and soft breathing murmuring in my ear. "Must go work now, ask boss stay tomorrow ok?"
"Ok"
Dik drove off down the soi, the promise of tomorrow tantalising me as I sat in the hotel bar, pondering my next move over a Heineken and watching the antics of the boys outside the massage parlour across the way.
I walked into the night, passing familiar places, sidestepping a gaping pothole in the pavement where a tugboat captain had disappeared without trace the night before, stopping briefly at Giddys to fondly say hello, but unable to rouse the barman. A sign on the deserted bar informed me that if I wanted a real cheeseburger I should go to Ronnies. I was heading in that direction, deeper into the bowels of Sunee.
Ronnies bar & guesthouse was just as I remembered it, although Ronny was away in the antipodes at the time. A sign on the bar said that if I wanted a cheeseburger I should go to Giddy's. Apparently they take turns with the burgers, but this night there appeared to be some sort of communication problem.
Ronnies is a bit like a time warp - complete with a framed photo of Queen Elizabeth and a faded newspaper cutting on the dunny wall of some obscure football team circa 1956 which were runners-up in the AFL premiership. I wondered how it had endured so long as there was unsurprisingly, no toilet paper in sight. And of course, there were the regulars. Muttly, (now there's one big son of a bitch)was eating a Big Mac under protest because there were no cheeseburgers available.Moving a half dozen empty VB cans aside, I cleared a space on the table and sat down.
"Call this a fucking cheeseburger" Muttly wailed. "Wheres the egg and the fucking beetroot? Place is going to rack and ruin mate. I tell ya, it's just like Georgey says - all those woolly moofs fucking the place up, not to mention the russians and thousands of bloody chinese taking over, that's what it is - too bloody right! Speaking of fucked up - take a look at Heddley over there, really gone and lost the plot. Sailed off into la-la land somewhere after having a falling out with all and general. Rumour is, and I'm not one for gossip y'know, strictly the unembellished facts, that's me, well apparently she mixed up her medications after a bottle or so of Gordon's and really fried her brain. Totally lost the plot - take a look at her will ya?"
It was not a pretty sight.Underneath a wilting aspidistra in the corner was Heddley, a diminishing shadow of her former self, her silence punctuated only by the hiss and snap of oxygen on demand from the cylinder attached to her wheelchair. She was wearing what appeared to be a much worn facsimile of a long out of fashion wedding frock, and the Target beads and smeared lipstick only added to the gloom.
"Does she talk?"
"Rarely" replied Muttly. "At one stage, she wanted to end it all and asked Georgy to throw her off the 15th floor balcony of View Talay, and y'know Georgy, he doesn't mind a bit of the rough stuff, but fair shit himself when Heddley put it to him. Fuck that, he said, what if the boys in brown find out it was me - I'd be done for murder! I said, don't you ever read the fucking newspapers dillbrain.
You could have thrown her off the balcony tied to her wheelchair with her catheter wrapped around her bloody neck, and the cops would still have called it suicide. Get real!"
to be continued.......
The other evening, after my usual 1 or three Margueritas at the Panorama Bar,
I thought - what the hell, why not go slumming in Sunee? I hadn't been there in ages, and rumour had it that there had been quite a few changes to the area.
Being disinclined to walk, I ambled down the soi and cast my eyes over the motor bike boys on the corner, who were watching football on tv. Being the off season, business was quiet, so there were several to chose from.Always on the lookout for the rare and unusual, I saw Dik. He was watching the tv intently- it was obviously a crucial moment in the game, so I was able to quietly look at him. The long hair and wrap-around sunnies gave him an almost rasta look. I must have been staring, as suddenly he turned to me with a broad smile, and said "you want taxi?" he said, removing his shades and eyeballing me, his smile and gaze unwaivering. I felt blinded like a kangaroo caught in car spotlights, dazed and frozen to the spot.I managed to splutter out "Sunee Plaza", surreptitiously wiping away the saliva which had mysteriously appeared on my chin. Dik handed me a helmet, kicked down the bikestand, and I slid in behind him, my hands resting on his hips,my body spooning into the contours of his slender frame.
We merged into the helter-skelter of the night traffic, a kaledeiscope of petrol fumes, neon and night music, heat and sweat and bodies blurring with the adrenalin terror and exhiliration of the ride.
The kemagra which I had indulged in as an accompaniment to my last marguerita was less than subtley refusing to be ignored, and I released my hold on his hip and slid my hand downwards to his thigh. As I nuzzled into the hair on his neck, his rough hand covered mine and gently squeezed.
"You want go hotel? I not speak English good. My name Dik and I am gay"
to be continued..........
Dik kissed me gently on the lips, stroking my chest, his worker's hands contrasting with the silky velvet feel of his brown skin, his even and soft breathing murmuring in my ear. "Must go work now, ask boss stay tomorrow ok?"
"Ok"
Dik drove off down the soi, the promise of tomorrow tantalising me as I sat in the hotel bar, pondering my next move over a Heineken and watching the antics of the boys outside the massage parlour across the way.
I walked into the night, passing familiar places, sidestepping a gaping pothole in the pavement where a tugboat captain had disappeared without trace the night before, stopping briefly at Giddys to fondly say hello, but unable to rouse the barman. A sign on the deserted bar informed me that if I wanted a real cheeseburger I should go to Ronnies. I was heading in that direction, deeper into the bowels of Sunee.
Ronnies bar & guesthouse was just as I remembered it, although Ronny was away in the antipodes at the time. A sign on the bar said that if I wanted a cheeseburger I should go to Giddy's. Apparently they take turns with the burgers, but this night there appeared to be some sort of communication problem.
Ronnies is a bit like a time warp - complete with a framed photo of Queen Elizabeth and a faded newspaper cutting on the dunny wall of some obscure football team circa 1956 which were runners-up in the AFL premiership. I wondered how it had endured so long as there was unsurprisingly, no toilet paper in sight. And of course, there were the regulars. Muttly, (now there's one big son of a bitch)was eating a Big Mac under protest because there were no cheeseburgers available.Moving a half dozen empty VB cans aside, I cleared a space on the table and sat down.
"Call this a fucking cheeseburger" Muttly wailed. "Wheres the egg and the fucking beetroot? Place is going to rack and ruin mate. I tell ya, it's just like Georgey says - all those woolly moofs fucking the place up, not to mention the russians and thousands of bloody chinese taking over, that's what it is - too bloody right! Speaking of fucked up - take a look at Heddley over there, really gone and lost the plot. Sailed off into la-la land somewhere after having a falling out with all and general. Rumour is, and I'm not one for gossip y'know, strictly the unembellished facts, that's me, well apparently she mixed up her medications after a bottle or so of Gordon's and really fried her brain. Totally lost the plot - take a look at her will ya?"
It was not a pretty sight.Underneath a wilting aspidistra in the corner was Heddley, a diminishing shadow of her former self, her silence punctuated only by the hiss and snap of oxygen on demand from the cylinder attached to her wheelchair. She was wearing what appeared to be a much worn facsimile of a long out of fashion wedding frock, and the Target beads and smeared lipstick only added to the gloom.
"Does she talk?"
"Rarely" replied Muttly. "At one stage, she wanted to end it all and asked Georgy to throw her off the 15th floor balcony of View Talay, and y'know Georgy, he doesn't mind a bit of the rough stuff, but fair shit himself when Heddley put it to him. Fuck that, he said, what if the boys in brown find out it was me - I'd be done for murder! I said, don't you ever read the fucking newspapers dillbrain.
You could have thrown her off the balcony tied to her wheelchair with her catheter wrapped around her bloody neck, and the cops would still have called it suicide. Get real!"
to be continued.......