by Zane Menzy
“I have a date. And my cunting sister—love her to pieces—won’t let me wear any of her clothes. And your mother’s a tiny wee thing like me, so I know we’ll be around the same size.”
“Oh dear.” Matt sighed. “So you just thought you’d come here and help yourself?”
Jason picked out a black tank top, holding it up to inspect its quality. “Pretty much. That’s what friends are for, are they not?”
Matt nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. “I guess so.”
Jason tossed Matt a stern look. “I don’t hear much conviction in your voice Matty,” his voice came out surly.
“No, you’re right,” Matt said with more emotion.
“I’m only joking,” Jason said, laughing. “Gosh, you’re such a pushover. God blessed you with a set of these things called balls, you should try using them.”
Matt chuckled. Yes, he was a pushover. He wasn’t a fan of disagreements, but he was a fan of Jason. Matt’s camp comical pal never failed to bring smiles and laughter wherever he went. However, not everybody in Port Jackson was a fan of this flamboyant Maori boy who made light of any situation.
It was nice to see Jason even if it was just so he could borrow clothes. They didn’t see much of each other anymore; not since Jason had dropped out of high school at the beginning of the year to start working full-time at a café in town.
Matt missed having Jason at school with him. His protector and sidekick. Growing up they were both easy targets for bullying from other students, but together they had weathered the storm. Little Gay Jason with his girly voice was picked on for obvious reasons, while Matt had always been considered a shy, fat weirdo. Even though a growth spurt two years earlier had shed all his puppy fat, he was still cast in the role of Fatty Matty.
Admittedly now that Matt was in his final year of high school, bullying was no longer the issue it used to be, but he still didn’t feel comfortable sitting in the common room with the other year-thirteen students. He preferred to chill out at the edge of the rugby field with the smokers—mostly other peakers—who were now all two years below him. Peakers and smokers had a habit of dropping out at sixteen.
Jason squealed in delight. “Yesss! This is the ticket.” He pulled out a shiny metallic silver skirt and tucked it under his arm with the black tank top he had found. “I knew I could rely on my white trash family to provide the goods.”
“Who are you calling white trash, dick.” Matt smiled, laughing at the insult.
Jason tilted his head, giving Matt a pitiful look. He marched over to the window and pointed outside at the messy yard. “Matty, look out there. You have two rusted-out vehicles parked up that don’t work, an empty shitheap of a caravan on the back lawn—with god only knows how many stray cats living under it—and the grass is waist high and doesn’t know what a lawn mower looks like.”
“The grass isn’t that high!”
“No lie, Matty, I thought I was going to be attacked by a fucking Bengal Tiger walking through that jungle out there.”
Matt rolled his eyes.
“So yes my darling friend, you are white trash, but that isn’t a bad thing,” Jason said.
“Oh, and why is that?” Matt asked, genuinely curious for whatever bullshit answer Jason had waiting.
“Cos it means your mother has the best slutty clothes from the 80s. No shit, this get up is so retro, like b52s or something.” Jason looked at the clothes in his hand, smiling. “It’s just a shame your people evolved in the nineties and started rocking sweat pants and polar fleeces.”
“Gee, I’m so sorry my mother decided to cover more of her body after she turned forty,” Matt joked. He flicked his eyes down to Jason’s feet which were wearing black sneakers. “Yep, the outfit will look just soooo sexy with them shoes,” Matt teased.
“I’m not going to wear them with these obviously.” Jason tapped his shoes together.
“Barefoot. Even better.” Matt grinned.
“What do you take me for? A Maori?” Jason wiggled his eyebrows. “No, I managed to steal these off my sister before I bailed.” Jason took off his bag and reached in pulling out a pair of black heels. “I’m so lucky the bitch—love her to pieces—has big ass feet for a girl.” He bundled the clothes and shoes under his arm and exited Matt’s parents’ bedroom, leading the way to Matt’s small room at the end of the hall.
Matt tromped after his colourful friend, laughing to himself.
Jason dropped his bag on the messy floor covered in music magazines and dirty clothes. He waved a hand in front of his nose, pulling a revolted face. “Shit, Matty, this room stinks of… boy.”
“Gee, funny that. You know, considering I am one.”
“That’s no excuse for smelling like an unwashed one. Open a window or something before I pass out from these toxic fumes of...” Jason covered his mouth, looking down at the floor. “Manky socks and rancid undies.”
“Calm down, snifferrella.” Matt went and pulled his curtains, opening the window up to appease his fussy friend.
Jason had no shame, immediately stripping his shirt off and shimmying his jeans down his smooth legs ‘till he was standing in nothing but a pair of frilly knickers and a bra that clung to his skinny, flat chest. Matt watched as his friend wriggled into the slutty skirt and chucked the black top on all at lightning speed. Jason squeezed his feet into his sister’s shoes then rummaged in his bag, emerging with two lumpy lemons that he slipped down the top.
Matt burst out laughing. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Well, the man might like to cop a feel and I ain’t got my own.”
Matt stepped over and felt up the fruity tits. “Yeah, their soooo believable your lumpy hard boobs.”
Jason swatted Matt’s hand away. “As if you’d know what real tits feel like. You ain’t been near any since your momma stopped breastfeeding you.”
Matt didn’t argue. His virgin status was not one he could deny. He had never even kissed a girl, let alone cop a feel. “True, but even I know those don’t look or feel real.” He laughed again as Jason began adjusting the lemons in the bra.
“They don’t need to be perfect, just add to the illusion,” Jason snapped. He squeezed his lemon cleavage into place, smiling to himself. “Oh, and I promise to wash and bring the clothes back.”
“You may as well keep them,” Matt huffed. “I don’t think she will be coming back anytime soon,”
Jason pursed his lips together. “You never know, Matty. She might miss the pole and come back gagging for a bit from your father.”
Matt laughed. Laughter was all he had. What else could you do when your mother ups and leaves her family for another woman. Six months had gone by and neither he or his father had heard from her since she declared to them over dinner one evening that she was moving out and going to live with her new lover, Stephanie. With one small packed luggage bag, she had walked out the door with little more than a goodbye, leaving no way of contacting her.
Jason walked over to the small mirror above Matt’s bedroom drawers to inspect his genderbending beauty. The short, skinny boy was average-looking as a male but as soon as he dolled up he was more than a little stunning.
Jason insisted he had no intention to be a woman but the ruse helped him score hot straight men that boy Jason couldn’t. Matt still couldn’t understand how these straight men would sleep with a woman they knew to be a man. Jason always told them the truth, but it never seemed to put them off, and he was never in short supply of dates.
“So who’s the lucky guy?” Matt asked.
“Someone called Bill.” Jason screwed his face up at the name. “Hideous name and no doubt fake, but he sounds hot.”
“Another one off the dating hotlines, is it?” Matt asked.
Jason nodded. “That he is.”
“You find guys so fucking easy. I wish I could meet a girl just like that.” Matt flopped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“Well, there are girls on the phone lines too, Matt
y Pie. You should give it a try. You’d do quite well I imagine with that sexy voice of yours.” Jason winked at him, backing up his compliment.
“No thanks,” Matt grumbled. “No offence, but it all seems a bit sleazy to me.”
“Oh, it most definitely is.” Jason laughed. “But that’s what I love about it.” He ran a hand through his hair, staring at his reflection before turning around and shooting an accusing glance at Matt. “Are you still holding out for the day Lexi Prebble suddenly realises she is madly deeply in love with you?”
Matt’s stomach twisted hearing Lexi’s name. “Maybe.” He had a huge crush on Lexi. He swore he had fallen in love with her since the first day of high school when he spotted her in assembly. Even now Matt looked forward to morning assemblies so he could discretely check his angel out. She had silky long brown hair that Matt wished he could rake his fingers through and smell it. Her tanned summery body looked like it would smell nice all over. Lexi was definitely one of the in-crowd, but she didn’t seem quite so plastic as the rest of the snob squad, and always offered a friendly hello and a warm smile when she passed him through the school halls or in town.
“I can’t understand why she’s not all over you. The girl doesn’t know what she is missing,” Jason said honestly.
“I think she knows exactly what she’s missing,” Matt muttered, tugging on his Metallica t-shirt. “Just some weird lump.”
Jason scowled at Matt’s self-sympathy. “You’re far from hideous, Matty. You have perfect skin, no zits ever! And I must say, I am more than a little bit jealous of your eyes.”
Matt sat up, intrigued by the observation. “You are?”
Jason laughed at the enthused response. “Yes, you heard it here first folks. Matthew Andrews has sexy, come-to-bed eyes.”
Matt got up and walked over to the mirror and stood beside his friend. “You reckon?” He stared at his reflection, rubbing the dark stubble on his chin. He did have nice skin; this he knew. He had never fallen victim to acne like his classmates growing up. His blue eyes were sleepy-looking and his hair a dark black, the polar opposite of his white flesh.
“Don’t say I’m never nice to you.” Jason grinned. “That’s my charity done for the week.”
Matt laughed and nudged his friend in the side. Standing beside Jason made Matt feel tall. At five-feet-nine, Matt rarely ever felt tall, but next to Jason’s five-feet-six, he always did.
Jason grabbed the black t-shirt hanging loosely from Matts body. “If you bothered trying to wear shit that isn’t all black and baggy, then you might find you’ll have more luck with girls.”
“Black is slimming,” Matt answered cheekily.
“News flash, Matthew Andrews, you’re not a pork chop anymore, you can dress differently if you like. Show off that hairy chest I know you’ve got growing under there.” Jason hitched one of his eyebrows.
“I can’t afford nice clothes,” Matt said defensively.
“Oh, don’t give me that tired excuse. I’m not rich either, but you don’t see me walking around dressed like I belong to the Adam’s Family.” Jason looked around the bedroom at the walls covered in dark posters of shock rock bands, the only hint of colour coming from a map of the world above Matt’s bed. “Maybe try adding some colour to your walls while you’re at it.”
“What’s wrong with Rob Zombie and Marilyn Manson?”
Jason shrugged. “Nothing, but it wouldn’t kill you to put a spice girl or two up there.”
Matt laughed. “I’ll tell you why there not up there.”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “Please do, Matty Pie. Please tell me why, why, really, really, why,” Jason sang, trying not to laugh.
Matt glared at Jason, doing his best to give a look of craziness. “Cos their music is shit.”
“Don’t be blaspheming my girls. We all need a bit of scarily, posh ginger to spice up our lives.”
“Okay, if baby spice turned up in my room, I wouldn’t say no, but otherwise they can stay in the gossip mags and stay the fuck out of my stereo.” Matt looked across at his Pioneer stereo player, the most expensive thing in his crappy, small room.
“Anyway, when do you start your new job? That will give you some cash for some new clothes, won’t it?” Jason asked cautiously, knowing it was a touchy subject.
“Next Monday.” Matt groaned. “And three days cleaning a week is hardly going to gift me a fortune. Besides, I can’t spend any of it. I have to save it up for the hostels next year at uni.”
“Boring!” Jason snorted. “You’re just so sensible you. I think that’s why my mum insist I hang around you growing up. Well, until she found out you were a filthy, rebel smoker.”
“I’m still a good influence,” Matt teased.
“Do you know how much you’ll be getting paid?” Jason asked.
“Not a clue,” Matt said, he shook his head and let out a frustrated breath. “I still can’t believe Dad’s making me take the stupid fucking job in the first place.”
Last week his father had come into his room and told him—not asked him—that he was going to be working for Jenna Harris doing housecleaning. Matt’s mum had cleaned for the Harris family for six years before she up and left with Stephanie. She must have done a good job because Jenna Harris called up asking Matt’s father if Matt would like some after school work, under the false impression that a strong work ethic ran in the family.
Matt had insisted he didn’t want the job, but his father said he didn’t have a choice, and that with his mother’s income gone, Matt would have to start paying for his own stuff—including the looming expense of university accommodation.
Matt barely cleaned up after himself, so he wondered how well he would go at cleaning up after other people. The only good thing about the job was he would be able to have sneaky perves at Mrs Harris. The forty-year-old lawyer’s wife was a walking wet dream. Less likely, but not impossible, was the chance to bump into his beloved Lexi. She was good friends with Jenna’s son Damon—an arrogant prick in Matt’s opinion.
“Just think of the money, Matty… whatever it is. That’s what I do at the café whenever I have some rude bitch moaning about her garden salad not drowning in enough mayo.” Jason held his hands out, pretending to strangle someone.
“Yeah, but at least you don’t have to put up with Damon bloody Harris waltzing around like the pretentious wanker he is.”
Jason’s eyes lit up. “Damon Harris, he is such a dreamboat.”
“More like a nightmare boat you mean,” Matt snarled.
“Maybe he won’t be home much when you’re there?” Jason offered, trying to soothe the hellish scenario of cleaning up after one of Port Jackson’s biggest dickheads.
“I hope he’s not,” Matt muttered.
“Or maybe you’ll walk in on him bumming Todd Jenkins.”
“Eww, gross!”
Jason’s eyes glazed over with a fantasy. “That would be seriously hot, though. I wouldn’t know who I’d want most out of them two. Who would you pick?”
Matt’s breath caught in his throat. “Umm, neither… I’m straight remember?”
“So… you can still pick one. I can still pick the better looking between two girls, so I think you could do the same with guys.”
Matt began to smile. “Okay then, who would you rather fuck? Zoe Benton or Lucy Kerr?” He looked up at Jason who stood there speechless. “Come on, Jason, which clit do you want to lick till it’s as thick as a rosebud?”
Jason sucked down on his bottom lip, thinking it over, not letting the vivid detail derail his calmness. “Hmm, tough choice but I think I’ll have to go with Lucy.”
“Why Lucy? Zoe’s way hotter if you ask me,” Matt said.
“Exactly, which means Lucy would try harder to impress me. Not to mention she has heavenly pouty lips to put on my most devilish of places.” Jason chuckled, pleased with his poetic answer. “Now your turn, Matty Pie. Damon or Todd and a real reason why.”
Matt ran a hand through his dark h
air, thinking it over. “Probably Damon.”
Jason leered his head forward excitedly. “And why?”
Matt nodded, thinking it over. “He’s got nice arms for a dude, I’ll give him that. They look strong like he’d be good at either pinning you down all rough-like or cuddling all sweet.”
Jason smiled, impressed with a straight boy’s answer. “Good call, Matty Pie, good call.” He glanced over at the time on Matt’s bedside clock. “Shit, I’ve gotta get going. The charming Bill will be at my place to pick me up soon.” Jason leant over and without warning and gave Matt a big kiss on the cheek. “Catch you later, sweet cheeks.”
Matt laughed, rubbing his face where Jason’s lipstick had stained him. “Okay, have fun but please be safe.”
“Stop worrying so much Matty Pie, I already have a mother.”
Matt folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “I can’t help it if you make stupid fucking decisions.”
“Maybe I do, but it might be nice once in a while if you did too. Life’s too short not to take any risks.” On those inspirational words, Jason clip-clopped away on his sister’s heels, sashaying out the door.
CHAPTER THREE:
Phantom Crapper
After Jason’s crossdressing interruption, the first thing Matt had done was take a shower. A defensive reaction to Jason’s swipe that his bedroom reeked. Once he was all clean and feeling less self-conscious, he had climbed downstairs to the basement. A dingy space where no-longer-needed household items came to die. Of course, this wasn’t the only purpose the most private room in the house was used for.
Lining the back wall was an old bookcase, housing a collection of blue movies. His father had owned the seedy stash for years, but since Matt’s mother had abandoned them, the videos were seeing way more playtime—so much so, that his father had even set up an old television and couch in the corner of the basement.
Matt browsed through the options available to him, keen to take advantage of being home alone. Before his mother had left, lesbian porn was his choice of wank material. Not now though. I don’t need any reminders, thank you, Matt told himself. He scooped out a film called Peepshow and chucked it in the video player. A giddy laugh escaped his lips as he sat down on the couch ready to unzip, feeling like a naughty school kid.
