Usual stuff, this is fiction and I've taken a few liberties with reality. Oh, and we're all over eighteen.
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Preamble
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"Hi Tom, what's up?" I looked up to see Jerry, my best friend coming over to where I was sat. We had arranged to meet, as usual, in the bar of the Newton Arms.
"Nothing much. Have a pew." I pushed back a chair for him to sit on.
I've known Jerry since forever and, before we go any further, let's get the jokes out of the way. Yes, I'm called Tom and he's called Jerry just like... oh, for heaven's sake, don't think that we haven't heard them all a thousand times by now. We grew up together and, even now, we're still the best of friends. Now that we've left school we're both enrolled at the University Of Central Lancashire in Preston. I'm doing a catering course and Jerry's doing design. Here's hoping that either of us will get a job at the end of it but, for the moment, that's all a couple of years away.
When we're not doing our college courses we tend to hang around together. We like the same music, share the same interests and, when it comes down to it, nobody understands me the way Jerry does. Mind you, part of me feels like I live in his shadow. He's smart and sexy and bright and, unlike me, often has a girl friend. Not that I'm surprised. He's the sort the girls go for. Mind you, none of his girlfriends seem to stick around for long. I guess he hasn't found one he really likes.
"So, what are you doing for your hols? Are you going away with the folks?" Jerry asked after a while.
"Nah," I replied. "I'd rather do anything than go on another holiday with Katie! She drove me scatty last year," I replied. Katie is my little sister and, at thirteen, she's five years younger than me and a total and complete pest.
"In that case, do you fancy a bit of fishing?"
"Fishing? I don't mind a bit of fishing but it sounds a bit dull? We've fished most of the Ribble and I don't see that as much of a holiday."
"Not the Ribble, not anywhere around here. Let's go to the Isle Of Arran, that's the spot. Look, I've picked these up." Jerry pulled out some glossy brochures and handed them over. "We can get a week's rental of a cottage complete with a boat and it will cost us next to nothing, not if we split it fifty-fifty. During the day we do a bit of sea fishing, at night we hit the local pub and see what whiskies they sell. There's even a distillery on the island."
I flicked through the brochures. I'm not as keen on fishing as Jerry is but a week away from home, just the two of us, sounded like a lot of fun. We went through the brochures and did all the sums: cottage rental, boat hire, a bit of cash for food, a lot of cash for drink, enough petrol to get us there and back and, by the time we had finished, we'd got a pretty reasonable budget. If I leant on the old man and pointed out how much he'd be saving by not paying my air fare to the Algarve this year, then I should be able to afford it.
And so the trip that would change our lives was set. That was in March; now fast forward five months to July and picture Jerry's battered Fiesta pulling off the ferry and onto the magic that is the Isle Of Arran.
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Sunday
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Thanks to the wonders of sat-nav, and the fact that Arran only has one road worthy of the name, it didn't take too long to find Loch View cottage. We went next door and introduced ourselves to Angus McTavish, the owner, who let us in and showed us around. The brochure didn't exactly lie but it was definitely economic with the truth and the cottage, which looked perfectly adequate in the photos, was tiny. The original building, which probably dated back to the days of Braveheart, consisted of two rooms, a living room and a bedroom, with a more recent extension tacked on the back. The extension consisted of two further rooms, one a bathroom, the other a kitchen. Even so, as Jerry put it, in the bathroom you could do three things beginning with 'S' without having to move and, as for the kitchen, it was a good job I wasn't planning on cooking anything more complex than bacon and eggs. But it was the bedroom that was the killer. It was only about ten feet square and completely dominated by a king sized double bed. Yes, that's right, one single solitary double bed.
"But... but... but I thought the cottage sleeps two," Jerry protested. He scrabbled in his pockets and pulled out the brochure. "Look, look, it says here, sleeps two."
"Aye, and that it does. D'ya no see that it's a double bed? Sleeps two as snug as a bug in a rug."
"But we're both guys," I chipped in.
"Don't fret yourselves. We're pretty broad minded here. We'll no be minding if you want to share. Now, as I was saying, the water heater has a switch here. Don't leave it on all day or you'll..."
As Angus continued to explain the various appliances which, by the looks of things, he must have scrounged from the local scrap heap, Jerry and I looked askance at each other. Only one bed! Still, we were here now. We'd just have to work something out.
By the time we'd unpacked and settled in it was far too late to do any fishing. Even so we walked back down to the little bay and the landing stage to have another look at the eighteen foot motor boat we'd hired. It looked solid and seaworthy. They had been reluctant to let us have it at first but, fortunately, when I was fifteen, dad had pushed me to get my RYA Yachtmaster Costal certificate and that persuaded them that I knew what I was doing. Even then, Mr McTavish had gone over the safety rules time and time again and we had to promise that we wouldn't go night fishing. Having checked out the boat without the owner looking over our shoulders, it was time to walk the couple of miles into Brodick, the local town. We'd talked about driving but neither of us was prepared to be the one who stayed sober enough to drive us back again.
Much, much later, full of fish and chips and several pints of heavy, we made our way, rather unsteadily, back to the cottage. When we got there we slumped down in the armchairs and had one last can of McEwans and, at that point, we knew we finally had to address the question of where we were going to sleep. We were both pretty sossled but neither of us wanted to be the selfish one, neither of us wanted to see our best mate sleep on the floor.
It was Jerry who broke the deadlock.
He had got to his feet and was looking around for something, anything, we could use as a spare bed. He'd got to the door of the bedroom and was leant against the door jamb, staring at the bed.
"Look," he said wearily, "I'm completely bushed and if I don't get my head down soonest, I'm going to pass out. What's more, come tomorrow, I need my Captain Ahab fresh and awake so as to steer the good ship Pequod on a true course to find the great white whale..."
"What the fuck are you talking about," I asked. "Who the fuck is Captain Ahab and what the fuck is the good ship Pequod?"
"Moby Dick, you ignorant arsehole. Captain Ahab is... oh, never mind. What I'm saying is that we both need our sleep and, if there's only one bed then we're going to have to share. It's plenty wide enough. It's about the only thing in this shack that is king size. I'll take the left, you take the right. OK?"
I looked at him and he just shrugged. I'd run out of excuses, I too wanted to just pass out, to surrender to the beer.
"OK," I agreed, "but bagsies first on the bog." And, before he could move, I stood up and went into the bathroom. Why is it that, for every pint of beer you drink, you have to piss two pints away. It seemed to go on forever but, once I'd finished, I gave my face and hands a quick wipe, brushed my teeth and came back out again. Then, while Jerry was in the bathroom, I had the chance to get undressed and get under the covers. I hadn't brought any jim-jams, I didn't think I'd be needing any, so I kept on my boxers. I thought about a tee shirt but it was plenty warm enough so I went without.
Five minutes later Jerry appeared from the bathroom. I pretended to be asleep but, even so, he turned off the light before getting undressed. Not that it made that much difference. It really doesn't get dark that far north, even at one in the morning. What is more, the sky was clear and the moon was full and, as the bedroom curtains were as cheap as the rest of the cottage, they let plenty of moonlight filter into the room. I peered out from between half closed eyelids and watched him take his clothes off. I wasn't the first time I'd seen him naked, I'd often enough watched him get changed after gym at school or when we'd gone swimming at the local baths, but the dim light and the fact that we were away from home seemed to change everything. I'd never quite looked at him in that way before. He's got a really nice body. Lean without being skinny and with a slim pair of hips. He's quite handsome and, with his wavy shoulder length hair, it's no wonder the girls all go for him. I tried to check out his dick. Of course, we've done comparisons before; as I said, we go all the way back and adolescent boys can't help but compare but, even so, I wanted a little look. Unfortunately it was too dark and, anyway, like me, he kept on his boxers.
"Are you still awake," he whispered as he slipped under the covers. I didn't reply as I didn't want to let on that I'd been watching him. He moved across until he was nearly touching me. "Good night, Captain, good night," he breathed the words so soft I hardly heard them. And, with me wondering what that was all about, he settled down and, moments later, we were both fast asleep.
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Monday
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I'd meant to set an alarm but I was so drunk I forgot and that meant that I didn't wake until the sun hit my face which, after all that beer, was a bit much. It was streaming in between the flimsy strips of cloth that pretended to be curtains, letting me know that the day was fast ticking away. Blinking in the bright sunlight I sat up and looked around me. I leaned out of bed to reach over to my clothes and rummaged through the pockets of my jeans until I found my mobile. It was well gone eight o'clock and, if we were to get out on the water, then we needed to get a move on. All this moving about had woken Jerry and he rolled over and opened his eyes. I think we both felt a bit shy, waking up in bed next to each other, and we exchanged glances. Still, we'd been friends for far too long to let something like this come between us.
"If we want to catch some fish we can't lie around in bed all day," I said.
"OK. You're the keen one. You can have the bathroom first," Jerry offered.
"Err... no... it's OK, you go first," I replied. Normally I would have jumped at the chance but, unbeknownst to Jerry, I had a classic early morning erection. My dick was as hard as iron and there was no way my boxers were going to hide it. I was never in a million years going to let him see it like that. However, as I said, Jerry is smart and he picked up on my reluctance.
"What's up? What's brought on this sudden burst of manners," he asked playfully. He looked at the way that the thin duvet lay across my lap. "I know why you won't get out of bed, you've got a stiffy, haven't you, and you're scared I'll see it."
"I haven't!" I lied.
"Have!"
