Bate Club

"So you said your name was Oscar?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"You mean, like the Grouch?"

Oscar had wondered how long it'd take for Billy to make the obvious reference. It happened every fucking time he met a guy. "Yeah. Like the Grouch," he frowned.

"Well," smirked Billy, leaning back in his chair, "if you're into trash, you've come to the right place." He sipped his beer. "Well done on scorin' the towel, by the way. Nice little souvenir."

Oscar crammed it into his backpack after his shower. He was gonna take it home, but he wasn't yet sure how to explain it to his wife. "Thanks, I guess." His hair was still a bit wet, but Sydney's warm night would dry it fast.

"They should've had it monogrammed for you. 'Most Valuable Cumslut'." Billy paused. "Maybe the bate club's budget wouldn't stretch that far."

They sat at the Oxford Hotel, each with a cold beer in front of them. Despite tonight's heat, Billy had barely taken a sip of his, but Oscar's glass was already half-empty. He felt like he'd lost a lot of liquids tonight, and two dozen loads of cum didn't count as replenishment.

Under normal circumstances, Billy was a natural conversationalist, and when he knew what he wanted, he was direct and forthright in his pursuit, but tonight, the atmosphere felt febrile. Both men were filled with nervous energy. Their mutual attraction was obvious, but despite bating together as complete strangers just minutes ago, they each felt they should try to get to know the other person before the inevitable finally occurred. The only problem was neither knew what to talk about.

The freckled redhead glanced up at a TV screen showing highlights of an AFL match from last weekend. Brisbane versus Carlton up at the Gabba. "I might be imagining this, but earlier, did you say you're from Canberra?"

"Yeah," said Oscar. His fingertips fiddled at the edges of a cardboard coaster. "Grew up here, though, but moved away for work after uni. I come back to Sydney once a year, every summer, for some time away." He stopped himself suddenly. He was about to say 'for some time away from the wife and kids', but he bit his tongue just in the nick of time.

"You stayin' with friends, or at a hotel?"

"Hotel. Down at the Quay."

Billy emitted a low whistle. "Canberra boys get paid a shitload, hey?"

Oscar shook his head. "Nah. Myth. I saved up all year for this. OK, so I'm staying at the Intercontinental, but I make sacrifices."

Oscar's temporary home-away-from-home was top dollar, and Billy knew it. His gaze returned to the TV screen. "What do you do in Canberra?"

Oscar smirked. "I'll give you one guess."

Billy smiled a knowing smile. "Shiny bum, ain't ya? My tax dollars hard at work."

"My dad was a wharfie, and his dad was too, but for some reason, I was born with my head in a book. I was never good with my hands, but I was good at maths and science an' shit." Oscar sipped his beer. "One semester in high school, I had to do woodwork. I didn't want to, but it was part of the curriculum. You know the theory, try everything once, and hopefully, unless you're a complete dickhead, you'll find something you're good at. Our assignment was to make a wooden jewellery box. Some of the kids in my class made really nice ones. Smooth edges and corners, hinges on the lid nicely aligned, velvet lining the tray and a mirror glued to the inside of the top. They gave them to their mums as presents. I knew mine would be shithouse before I even started. Not only did it look awful, I accidentally superglued the lid on."

Billy chuckled. This guy knew how to laugh at himself. Always a good sign.

"So I studied hard, got good marks in my exams, got into uni, and..." Suddenly feeling self-conscious about talking about himself, Oscar's voice trailed off. He wasn't sure Billy wanted to hear his life story.

Billy noticed his drinking compadre's glass was empty. "Wait here," he said, walking over to the bar. Moments later, he brought a couple of fresh coldies back. "Cheers."

They clinked their glasses together. Oscar thought about his wife. He hadn't called her tonight, but he knew he ought to, before it got too late. "You go there often?"

Billy raised his eyebrows. "What, you mean the bate club?"

"Yeah. Ta for the beer, by the way." Oscar ran a hand through his hair. It was bone dry. "How many times have you been?"

"Dunno." Billy scratched his arm. "Don't keep track, really. Eight or ten, maybe. I'm not a regular, if that's what you're drivin' at."

"You ever been the human cumrag before?"

Billy coughed. "No fuckin' way, mate." He paused for a second. "What was it like?"

"Weird. But first, let me go back a step. You know tonight was my first time, right? I had this trip to Sydney planned before Christmas, and when I found out about the bate club and learned it was going to be on one night while I was here, I bought a ticket. I was curious and eager, but this arvo, when I got off the bus just up the road, I started to lose my nerve. Like, I mean, I nearly chickened out completely. I basically had to drag myself in off the street." Oscar reached for his beer. "So once I was naked and ready, I made a choice."

"What choice?" asked Billy.

"I made a choice to say yes to everything tonight."

Billy grinned. "Yep. That's the way, mate."

"Like, there was a moment tonight when this really old guy came over and started touching me. In that moment, maybe I didn't quite say yes, but I didn't say no either, even though I know I could have. Like, don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's got this outlet, but I couldn't help wishing he played with someone else instead."

"I know what you mean, but maybe take it as a compliment." Billy's pale blue eyes stared at him. "Mate, you're hot."

If Oscar's brown skin was any lighter, Billy might've seen his cheeks blush at the compliment. "And so," he continued, "when that bloke -- I mean, the bloke who seemed to be organising everything tonight -- when he asked me if I wanted to be the centrepiece of tonight's bukkake, I said yes straight away."

Billy grinned. Fuck yeah. "OK, so now tell me, what was it like?"

Oscar took a mouthful of beer. "It was so fucking weird. The first guy, the elderly guy I just mentioned, he missed me completely, but some of the second guy's load dripped into my mouth, and it was like an instant trigger. The taste of cum flicked a switch in my brain. Suddenly, I felt like the world's biggest cumslut. Someone else stepped up, it might've been the dude who was organising, I can't really remember, but anyway, he shot a thick load onto my face, and it was game on. Like, I couldn't get enough, and the more cum I got, the more I wanted. My eyes started stinging, but I couldn't give a fuck." In his excitement, Oscar realised his voice had gone up in volume, and he noticed that the guys at the table next to theirs were listening in. He continued in a quieter vein. "Things became a bit of a blur after that, but I definitely remember what you did."

"I broke the rules," admitted Billy. "I've got a history of that."

For now, Oscar filed Billy's cryptic comment away. "Yeah. At the start, they explained the history of bate clubs to me. They told me very clearly, no oral or anal. Tradition, I guess."

"Yeah," Billy grinned. "I know. They said the same to me my first night, and I get the reasons and the history, but like, I didn't push you too far tonight, did I?"

Oscar ran his fingers through his floppy hair. "Nah."

"You can tell me if I did."

"Everything's cool, dude."

Billy leaned forward. "You wanted my dick in your mouth, didn't you?"

Oscar nodded. "Yeah. I did."

"You wanted me to shoot down your throat, didn't you?"

Oscar gulped. His mouth was watering. Fuck, this guy was forward.

"What did you do at uni?" Billy changed the subject unexpectedly, and for Oscar, it felt like the moment in the bate room when his fist brought him right to the brink of orgasm, just before he stood up and walked away, leaving him hanging. "Like, I'm assuming you must've gone to uni if you're a shiny bum..."

"Arts degree," Oscar answered, trying to cope with the violent change of direction. "Majored in history." He paused for a second, sipping his amber. "Did you go to uni yourself?"

Billy laughed. "Mate, I'm flat out countin' to ten. Got an apprenticeship when I left school. I'm a brickie. No shortage these days of cashed-up bogans doin' knockdown-rebuilds these days, even with interest rates through the fuckin' roof, so I find myself forever kept in gainful employ. Haven't been asked to make any jewellery boxes, but if it ever happens, I'll remember not to glue the fuckin' lid on." He paused, taking a sip. "You get much sex on campus, bruh?"

Oscar had a girlfriend back then. After they broke up, he was single for a year or two, hooking up with randoms on Tinder. It wasn't until he was just about to graduate that he created an account on Grindr. "Here and there, maybe," came his non-committal reply. He paused for a second. "You get much sex on building sites?" he joked.

Billy grinned. "More than you'd think, mate."

Oscar's eyes widened. Not what he'd expected.

"Some of the blokes I work with have high sex drives," Billy smiled, "but they're married to women who've had enough." He sipped his beer. "That's where I come in."

"What happens?" Oscar was incredibly curious.

"What do you mean?"

Oscar cleared his throat. "Like... how does it... go down?"

"For starters, I'm usually the one goin' down," Billy deadpanned. "Depends. Last week, we were on our morning break. Blokes are standin' 'round drinking coffee, and someone mentioned something about a porn clip they jerked off to the night before. Conversation got a little blue, I said I was going for a quick piss, and someone followed me in. Didn't take long for me to get him off. A few weeks ago, I caught someone flickin' through a porn mag. I sucked his dick while he scanned the pages, he came all over the centrefold's pussy, and I licked it off. Another time, I walked into the site office to find the foreman was frustrated about something or other. He was getting aggro at a spreadsheet, swearing and frowning. I asked him if he was OK, and whether I could do anything to help. Two minutes later, his dick's in my cunt. Blokes know I'm horny and ready to go, and they're happy enough to give it to me on the downlow. Like, it's win-win."

The boys on the adjacent table were listening in again. Billy couldn't give a fuck.

"Tradies get the ladies," Billy concluded. "Though speaking for myself, I don't fuckin' want any of 'em. I'm happy enough with the blokes." He turned to address the inquisitive dudes next door. "Am I right, boys?" he shouted, sculling the rest of his beer. "Yeah, fuck, you know I'm right."

Oscar's cock was rock hard. He wasn't sure what to say or do.

"It's warm tonight, hey?" Billy mused, noticing Oscar was momentarily lost in thought. He pointed to his empty glass. "Get us another one?"

After quickly adjusting his pants, Oscar walked to the bar, returning with two fresh beers. He glanced up at the TV screen, now showing highlights of last weekend's match-up between Greater Western Sydney and Collingwood. "Fuck, I hate GWS."

Billy slammed his palms onto the table in a gesture of complete agreement. The surface shook, and their beers quaked for a short moment. "Mate, totally. Fuck those cunts. Hate 'em even more than Collingwood, which is a statement in itself."

"100%," Oscar agreed. "Even though I don't live in New South Wales anymore, I still follow the Swans."

"Sounds like we've got something in common," grinned Billy, reaching for his beer. "We're both into footy, and we both support the same team." He thought for a moment. "Did you ever play?"

"Yeah," Oscar nodded. "Played a season or two in Sydney, then when I moved to Canberra, I played for the Belconnen Magpies a few winters. It's a bit easier down there, a bit less intense, but not by much. Blokes still need to be fit. Plus, it gets cold. I used to go for long runs." He reached for his beer. "You spend much time in the gym?"

"Yeah, nah. I get enough exercise at work, I reckon. By the way, I saw your sixpack at the bate club. I think I know what you mean about fitness. Looked like you put in some hours. What position did you play?"

His sixpack was in much better shape when he played. He'd lost some definition since. "Centre halfback," came Oscar's response.

"Guessing you were good at delivering handballs under pressure," Billy deadpanned.

Oscar blinked, unsure how to parry Billy's suggestive comment. "I don't play anymore, but. What about you?"

"Footy? Nah." Billy shrugged, lost in thought for a moment or two. "I mucked around in high school, and I used to love taking a Sherrin down to the local oval to play kick to kick with a mate. That was easy enough. But I reckon it'd be hard to concentrate in a proper contest when your teammates and opponents are all sweated up and stinky. I'd be like 'fuck the game, let's start an orgy'. Besides, it's hard to run fast with a boner." He paused for a second. "Anyway, why do you follow the Swannies?"

"Because I grew up in Sydney, and, like, because once you pick a team, that's your team for life, forever and ever amen. Changing allegiances is a total dick move."

"Bruh, totally!" Billy lifted his frothy beer in salute, and Oscar, somewhat uncertainly, met him halfway. Their classes clinked. "But speaking of the red and the white, your eyes look pretty shithouse right now."

"Still? Really? Shit." Oscar blinked. "I tried to flush 'em out under the shower. Maybe I need to go to a chemist."

"You wore a shitload of cum, dude. Reckon you could use some eyedrops."

Oscar reflected upon the past few hours. It took courage for him to enter the venue, it took courage not to retreat in embarrassment while his entry was being processed, it took courage to undress, it took courage to enter the space, and it took courage to catch twenty or thirty loads in the face. He'd said yes each time. "I like your tattoo," he said.

"This?" replied Billy, pointing at his left arm.

"Yeah," said Oscar, his nervous mouth going into overdrive. "I'm into tattoos, even though I don't have any myself. I'd love to know the backstory. And your freckles are as cute as hell, and like I'm like so into dudes with pierced noses. I know that's a strange thing to say, but..."

"How old are you?" Billy interrupted, and Oscar's motormouth stalled.

"Thirty one." Oscar almost felt ashamed. "I know. I'm ancient." He pushed his floppy skater haircut out of his eyeline. He felt something nudge him under the table.

"Nah. You don't look that old." Billy leaned forward, his fist enveloping his beer glass. "Anyway, I'm into older men. Judging by what I've learned on building sites, older blokes are more experienced."

Oscar coughed nervously. This sexy redhead seemed way more experienced than him. "OK, so how old are *you*, then?" He felt it again. Something under the table, nudging his foot.

"Twenty five. That means you're six years older than me." Billy made a show of counting to six on his fingers.

Oscar sipped his beer.

"Like, if we got married, you'd always be six years older than me."

Marriage. Oscar remembered his wife. Fuck.

"It's warm tonight, hey."

Under the table, Billy's foot stroked Oscar's ankle.

Billy leaned forward. "Bet your hotel room is nice and cool."

Oscar's cock stiffened.

Billy was a match-fit centre half-forward, driving hard towards the goal square, looking to score. In clear space, he took a confident bounce. "Reckon you could turn your room into a deep freeze if you wanted to. But then you'd probably need something to keep you warm in bed after."

Oscar knew he wouldn't need Grindr tonight. He drew again on his deep well of courage. Inside, he said yes. "Wanna come check out where I'm staying?"

Billy drained the rest of his beer, slamming the empty glass onto the table. "Ready whenever you are."

*

They waited on Oxford Street for the 333 to arrive. The sun had set, the horizon was orange, but the night was still hot. They stood side by side, not touching, not even talking. They barely even acknowledged each other's presence. Boarding the bus, they swiped their Opal cards, but their ride to Circular Quay was quiet.

The bus was packed; luckily, they found seats. Oscar sat against the window on the left hand side of the vehicle; Billy, sitting beside him, had one foot planted in the aisle. Oscar had no idea how he was gonna find time to ring his wife now, but something about Billy's presence was magnetic. He thought about sending his missus a quick text, but he knew how half-arsed that'd be. His wife was cool enough to give him this week away each year, spending money he'd saved for himself that could've instead been put on their mortgage, while she looked after the kids on her own. He needed to find time to show gratitude, and he knew a quick call would be all it'd take, but he couldn't work out how he was gonna make it happen.

At Museum station, the bus hooked right onto Elizabeth Street. They were nearly there now. Billy scrolled through socials on his phone.

This wasn't a typical encounter for Oscar. Usually, his same-sex hookups were random, anxious, passionate exchanges of bodily fluids before shallow goodbyes, but this felt different. He'd felt attracted to Billy from the moment he first approached him. He spoke for the first time the whole ride. "Do you have work tomorrow?" He checked out Billy's tattoo.

Billy barely looked up from his screen. "RDO," came his succinct reply. He dropped his hand on Oscar's inner thigh. "These bus seats are too small, don't you reckon?"

Oscar gulped. Oscar had come across many three letter acronyms in his time, but this was a new one. "Huh?"

"Not working tomorrow. RDO. Rostered day off."

The bus sped through the lights at St James. Oscar stared out the window as department store shopfronts flew by. He shivered as he felt Billy's fingertips running up and down the inside of his thigh.

They rode to the end of the line, and Oscar purchased some eye medication from a late-night pharmacy at the Quay. Walking back up the steep incline of Young Street towards the entrance of his hotel, neither spoke. A doorman opened the heavy glass doors, and Billy whistled as his senses drank in the opulence of the high-ceilinged atrium.

Oscar pressed the button for the elevator. His heart raced. He and his guest stepped into the lift. He swiped his electronic key, granting him access to the twentieth floor.

Alone for the first time, Billy wrapped his arms around Oscar's neck and rammed his tongue down his throat. Oscar returned serve, and they played a short yet violent game of tonsil tennis as they ascended into the sky.

They heard a polite ding just before the lift doors opened. Billy was ready to continue battle, but as Oscar opened the door to his suite, Sydney's night skyline took his breath away. "Fuck, bruh, would you take a look at this shit." His entire body was drawn towards the window. The brightly lit sails of the Opera House crouched beneath him, and the twinkling lights of the Bridge were off to one side. He could see Kirribilli sparkling across the water, and just on the edge of the window frame, he saw the laughing clown mouth of Luna Park. "I've never seen Sydney like this before."

Oscar opened the minibar fridge, pulling out two cold beers. He flipped the tops off, handing one to his guest. "Since you're not working tomorrow, cheers." The necks of their bottles clinked. "To be honest, I've never seen Sydney like this before either. Well, not until I checked in yesterday afternoon." He paused for a second. "Like, I grew up out west, and when I was a kid, it was a special occasion just to see the harbour from street level. To see it from way up here is completely different."