The Beat (8 page)

“No thanks, kid,” he said, stuffing his dick away. The kid looked scared and disappointed but Robbo knew he wouldn’t give up for the night. He’d stay on there hoping until the police or trouble ferreted him out.

“Try the sauna, kid.” The boy looked surprised.

“Have you got any money?” The boy looked bewildered.

“Here’s ten bucks, go to the sauna. Across the way from the museum station.” He thrust the money at the kid. Something dawned. “You mean it’s dangerous here?”

“Too right. Now get to it.” Still the kid stood there.

“You know where the sauna is?” The kid nodded.

“I’m telling you then, piss off.” And he left. As he started his bike the kid emerged from the pissoir. He looked over to Robbo. Robbo waved his arm in the direction of the sauna. The kid nodded and waved back. Robbo didn’t wait to see if he had understood the direction. He found he was sweating. It was the thought of the first guy he had picked up in a bog. The memory of it always brought out a sweat.

When he finally got to the pub, he had to push his way through the crowds to get a beer. Once served, he turned round, leaning with his back to the bar to survey the throng and make his choice. The place was really hopping for a Thursday night. The crowd was a fairly mixed lot. A lot of the faces he knew, but they weren’t there to socialize. He exchanged a few nods of acknowledgement, nothing more. He decided to lean back and let himself be hustled, let someone else do the work after his first exploit for the night. He was displayed well enough. He made himself available and was sure enough of himself to just let it happen. Sipping his beer, his eyes casually spanned the room. The space-invader machines were doing great business. High scoring here in all regards. The younger group seemed to congregate there. Outside, through to the beer garden, looked quieter. It was always an older crowd sitting out there. Most of them arrived in pairs and weren’t part of the market; just there to meet and bitch with old friends. Robbo lounged on up against the bar. After a while he became aware that a face through the crowd was trying to catch his eye. He leant back on the bar and sipped his beer. He gave nothing away. His drink was nearly finished. A figure pushed through the crowds and up to him, ostensively to get a drink.

“Hi,” the guy said as he pushed through to the bar. Robbo nodded.

“It sure is crowded here tonight.” There was a slight accent that Robbo couldn’t place. “Always jumping on a Thursday night,” he replied. The guy waited there in silence. He was facing the bar but in no hurry to be served.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked. Robbo had made sure his glass was empty.

“Beer,” Robbo replied and waited. The guy turned his back and attracted the barman’s attention. He had a good arse, Robbo noted. He bought two beers, handing one to Robbo.

“My name’s Angel,” he smiled.

“Angel! What kind of a name’s that?” Robbo asked.

“Just my name, I guess.” He paused.

“Where you from?” Robbo asked.

“I live here two years, before that, New York City.”

“Yeah, but you got an accent.”

“Well, I’m from Puerto Rico before that.”

“Puerto Rico, eh!”

“Yes, Puerto Rico.” He smiled and looked as if something important had been established.

“And you?” he asked.

“Me? Born here.” Robbo sipped his beer and gazed absently away. He’d have this one anyway, so may as well make the guy work at it. He didn’t look bad. Pretty dark. Robbo thought he might have an uncircumcised cock. He could see it was a fair size.

“I live here two years with a lover but it didn’t work out,” Angel continued.

“Tough.” Robbo wasn’t at all interested.

“I met him in New York and came here to him but no good. He play around, you know.” Robbo looked at the anxious face. He couldn’t give a shit.

“What are you doing here tonight then, mate?”

“It’s all over now, I move out.”

“Will you go back to New York?” Robbo thought he’d better play him along a bit. Angel paused, unsure how to answer.

“What’s it like there anyhow?” Robbo asked.

“New York? Well, you know anything about horses? New York City is like a bronco horse. Once it’s been messed up, you know, wrongly broken, then it’s out of control for all time. That’s New York City.”

“Shit, I’ve never heard a city compared to a horse before. You’re crazy, man.”

“Yes I’m crazy.” And Angel smiled happily. Robbo leant back on the bar, arching his back and thrusting his crotch foward. Angel’s eyes watched eagerly. “And I’m one horny guy,” Robbo replied.

“I like to fuck,” Angel stated.

“That’s great by me. Give me time to finish my drink.” “I can fuck three, four times a day,” Angel went on, “but with my lover it was no good. He was tired all the time, from screwing around. Once a month if I’m lucky, that all we had sex.” I’ll have to fuck him soon, Robbo thought, it’s the only way of shutting him up.

“I left my country because it very hard there to be gay. My family would feel shame. My mother, she very old now, but she very well-known woman. She couldn’t face the shame.”

“Is that right?” Robbo said absently.

“Yes. The police they phoned her once when they saw me in a gay bar. She very angry so I said I just walked in and out again. I was so shocked.”

“Come on. She didn’t believe you?”

“She believe me. I was married with two kids then.” He stopped and grinned, “Then I find I like men more. ”

“So goodbye Argentina.”

“Not Argentina, Puerto Rico.”

“Sorry mate.” Angel looked around and finally sipped his drink. Then he came back with the words, “I don’t know no one here, do you?”

“Heaps,” Robbo replied. “You found your way here alright.”

“I’m very shy person really.” And again he smiled. If only the guy would talk less and smile more Robbo could put up with it a bit longer. His body was pretty good and the dark skin could be a real turn-on. He hadn’t known any South Americans before. It hadn’t occurred to him that there were many gays there.

“Police hassle you much at home?”

“At home?”

“In Puerto Rico.”

“No. No, it my family. That’s why I go to New York but they treat you like shit there. Just a piece of meat, that’s all.”

“You got to be rich to live in New York?”

“Rich and white,” he said bitterly.

“You got a black dick?” Robbo asked. Angel laughed. “You only interested in my dick?” “Yeah, that’s right.” And Robbo grinned back.

“Where can we go?” Angel asked.

“I’ll borrow the key to the storeroom. One of the barmen is a mate of mine. Hold on, I’ll be back.” Robbo contemplated abandoning the guy but if they fucked at least it would shut him up. Besides he wanted to see the black dick. There weren’t many of them around. He got the key from Rick and came back through the crowds to where he had left Angel at the bar.

“It’s alright,” he said, showing the key. “Rick might come in if he can get away.”

“Rick?”

“Yes. He likes to watch.” The key to the storeroom was just about anyone’s on that one condition. Angel nodded understanding and the two headed off towards the back room. As they pushed through the crowd, disinterested heads turned knowingly. Nearly everyone ended up either in the toilets or the back room during the course of the evening. Robbo led the way into the room and closed the door. He took off his jacket and rested it on a pile of cartons near the door. Angel turned around and smiled at him. Robbo moved in to be greeted by Angel’s eager mouth in a prolonged full kiss. Angel’s mouth twisted, turned and devoured as he forced his tongue into Robbo’s throat. The kiss was returned in kind, rough and pressing. Angel’s hands worked at Robbo’s shirt, undoing the buttons and getting inside. Jesus, this guy knew how to get you going. Robbo let Angel work on his nipples as he peeled off the shirt with his free hand and started to unbuckle his jeans. As soon as his shirt was off, Angel went down sucking and biting at Robbo’s nipples. Shit, this guy was hot. He unzipped Robbo’s jeans and thrust his hand in to yank out the cock, pulling on it hard as he bit and chewed at Robbo’s chest. Robbo arched back and let it happen, then slid his hand down to unleash Angel’s zip. Angel stopped to give him a hand, stripping down his pants to reveal his erection. Jesus, his cock was dark and huge. Robbo grabbed at it and started tugging as Angel went down on him and sucked his cock hard, working steadily from head to base in long thrusts. His hands gripped Robbo’s buttocks exploring for his arsehole. One finger dug in sharp and probing. Robbo gasped out and pulled harder on the large black cock. He forced Angel off and bent-over to suck his cock in turn. It tasted good in his mouth. Angel lent over the crouching back and massaged the cheeks.

“You’ve got a great arse man, let me have it.” He turned Robbo round and spat on his hand to massage the end of his cock. Robbo bent forward and Angel was straight in. Robbo groaned. The pain felt like fire inside him. Holding Robbo in a bent-over position, Angel held the inside of his thighs and jabbed in and out of his anus. Then he penetrated deep and started to fuck steadily in long slow gyrations. Robbo hadn’t felt it like this for years. Angel pinned him round the middle with one hand and grabbed his cock with the other. He masturbated Robbo in time with his own fucking motion and it felt great. Jesus, you never could tell what you were getting. The guy had said he liked to fuck but Robbo had assumed he would do the fucking. Both his prick and his arse felt like they would burst.

“Hold on man,” Angel said, “I’m not ready yet.” He drew back and again took hold of Robbo’s hips. He twisted and turned his erection in and out the length of Robbo’s anal passage. It felt great. He gyrated with the power. Robbo hadn’t been fucked like this for God knows how long. He hoped Rick wouldn’t be in to see it. Robbo didn’t like it to get around that he enjoyed taking it too.

“Finish off man, I’m bursting,” he cried. Angel stabbed back and forth deep into him and fucked quick and sharp to finish off. He masturbated Robbo with one hand, gripped at his balls with the other. Robbo shot first. Angel was seconds later. He withdrew quickly and turned Robbo around, kissing him ferociously on the mouth. Then they stepped apart.

“You’re one hell of a fuck,” Robbo said. He couldn’t help himself.

“Beautiful arse,” Angel retorted. Robbo slipped his shirt on and pulled up his jeans. He got his prick back inside but the zipper wouldn’t close. Angel laughed. He was dressed ready to go.

“You want another drink?” he asked.

“I want a cigarette and to get my prick down enough to get my fly up first,” Robbo replied. He pulled his stomach in and the zip came up. Grabbing his jacket, they unlocked the door and returned to the other room. Back at the bar Angel looked at Robbo mournfully and said, “My mother is a very old woman now but I can’t go back and see her. The family are so shamed. It’s not the same as here. When I last saw her she was fifty but still very beautiful; now she’s old. I like to go back and see her but I come here instead. I come here to be with my lover and all he do is play around. What you think?” Robbo looked back bewildered. “About what?”

“You think I should sit home while my lover plays round?” Robbo thought of the backroom.

“Shit no,” he said, “I reckon you should use what you got. You use it pretty well.”

“Thank you,” Angel said and looked pleased. “Back home you know ...” Robbo stubbed out his smoke and cut him off. “Look I’ve got to be going now. Hope I see you again soon.” Angel looked surprised as Robbo started to push away through the bar. Then he turned and said, “Angel, you’re a terrific fuck”, and was gone.

Robbo stood outside to get some air. His arse was sore. It was still retracting from Angel’s presence. His head felt light. He’d had only two drinks, he didn’t want any more. The street was dark. He could hear noises coming from the bushes along the footpath. It was an old, narrow surburban street. You half expected old ladies to watch from behind lace curtains. Some people would fuck anywhere. The police could get them for that. He always chose his places more carefully. Well, he did now anyway. The grunts from the undergrowth continued. He took in a long breath of air. He would go for a spin and get a proper breeze. After that — well, he could manage at least one or two more tricks for the night. He rode down across the bridge and along the river. It was still, quiet and dirty. The Yarra had been a source of jokes for years. Sometimes couples copulated on its banks. Not tonight. The Yarra was too dead even for that these days. He took the road up towards the War Memorial and around the Domain. It was quiet there too. A lone soldier could usually be seen guarding the eternal flame. He wondered what they did if it went out. Sometimes you could pick up the soldier there for a quick fuck in the nearby toilets. The idea appealed. Muscular legs emerging from half dropped khaki pants, black laced army boots on well-parted feet, the figure bracing itself against the wall. The idea was getting him going again. Jesus, did anyone have sex in any position except standing up these days? Robbo sure as hell didn’t. Sex on the run, that was how he had come to expect it. He cruised past the toilets where the soldiers sometimes fucked late at night. A police car was parked further down the road, supposed to be out of sight. The car was empty. He cruised back in time to see two uniformed officers escorting someone away. He didn’t get much of a look at the poor guy. He could see the light reflecting on the police caps as he approached. At least they wore uniforms these days. You stood a better chance that way. One guy they were leading away. How could one guy be doing anything? It took at least two. The guy must be being busted for what he was hoping to do. Things hadn’t changed that much after all. The police set themselves up. One day, yes one day, it would be the cops, like that poofter-bashing thug in the park a week ago. It happened at Stonewall. It could happen here. Push anyone too far up against the wall and sooner or later they would hit back. Next time it could be a dead cop lying in the park. There would be no surprise witness to come forward then. Fuck it, Robbo was going to tempt providence and take what came. The fact that he knew that the police were there made it more exciting, more pointed. No one was going to push him into a hunted minority. He was going to fuck to be caught, not to get away with it this time. He left his bike under a street light and walked up the dark hill, through the park, towards the Memorial. There could have been noises of other couples in the bushes but he wasn’t sure. The wind moved the trees up there on the hill. It was the only place in the whole city he had encountered any stirring of air. It drove him on. He was on the path now. Anyone there would hear him coming. His boots crunched the gravel. He wasn’t sneaking around for anyone. Where had the soldier got to? Robbo couldn’t see him. This time he was going to fuck for equality, fuck to throw off repression. He knew what he wanted to do alright. He wasn’t drunk. He’d had two lousy beers. He was making his stand. It had to be with the soldier too. It was time the forces faced the fact that their men fucked each other. Christ, there were even support groups for gay servicemen and yet the forces claimed it didn’t exist within their ranks. The Victoria Football League was the same. Gay footballers, you had to be joking! But Robbo had sure been sucked off by quite a few. He was in their line of business. Now he was on the steps of the mausoleum. No one in sight. He stopped and preened himself in the light. No one came. He walked back down the steps and looked around. He was in full light. Someone should have challenged him if nothing else. What if he had come to desecrate the shrine? How about a blow for men raped in war, eh? That’s what he wanted to do. Wank off on the shrine itself. He walked round the side of the building and back to the other entrance. He heard a noise. His eyes followed the sound. He flashed his lighter. Shit, someone had beaten him to it! There in the darkness of a niche a young soldier was being given a head job by some middle-aged faggot. The soldier still held his bloody rifle as if on duty. His pants were open, not lowered, his cock was being gobbled by some queen, but in all else he was the perfect sentry. Robbo stomped off through the darkness towards the pool of light where he had left his bike. The fucking pigs wouldn’t bust the army, he should have known. Let him get sucked off and then arrest some other guy waiting for the same favour just down the road. So much for his stand for equality! His political statement! Shit, Robbo wasn’t political, never had been, just as mad as hell. He screamed his bike through the still park and headed back through the bright lights over the river. He passed the pissoir where he had seen the young kid at the start of the evening. Outside was another marked police car, empty. The bastards must be trying to close down the whole city. Well, not him. He was going to find himself the hottest, most public place in the city and fuck until he could fuck no more. He wanted to keep going until he couldn’t stand up, let alone wank another squirt of juice from his red-sore tool. Shit, he would wank himself all night if need be. And he wasn’t going to the saunas or Club 80 to do it. No, he was going to stay out there where he belonged and find sex there the way he always had. The way he had earned the right to. Who the hell could they have picked up in that cast-iron box? There was only enough room for a single grope and an embarrassed exit. Whoever got touched up unless they wanted it anyway? The whole thing was crazy. Robbo should have dived into the first bog he saw the pigs at, dived in and committed hari-kari. Or better still form his own lynching party. He should go back to one of the bars and get together a party so big they could demolish the pissoir and the pigs inside. But the bar room gays were too interested in what they could line up for the night. If only for once they united, they could outnumber their oppres-sors and forcibly win back the bogs, their bogs. The beats had always belonged to the queers, so why pretend? What would the pigs achieve by isolated arrests and court appearances? The stupid bastards. But while Robbo’s mind rebelled, his bike bore him further away. Like the others he was in fact bowing to the edict and moving on. He passed toilet block after toilet block as he did the circuit that night. Action was quiet at first. No one seemed to be on the lookout. Then again he saw a police car. This time it was crawling through the park itself, lights on low. It was like shooters spotlighting for their prey. “One fully grown poof caught blinking in the lights. Get him, mate — and pow.’ They were still hunted like animals. Who was sick, him or society? Robbo didn’t give a fuck how others got their sex — why were they so obsessed with how he got his? Was all this police activity a reaction to the dead body found in the toilet block? No way. They had never worried before. Trying to find the possible witness? Bullshit. There was no witness. They were just pulling in every poof they could.