Time to Upsize (The Indignities Book 1)

by Graeme Aitken

  ‘This is the Trevi Fountain,’ I announced, when in fact it was the Piazza Navona, as any fool would know.

  There was no protest from the couch. Blake did not correct me. I pressed pause which provoked a quick flurry of movement from the couch. ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Blake in an irritated tone, as though he had just been woken up.

  ‘I just wanted to see how Rick was enjoying the film. Do you want me to fast forward through some of this?’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Blake quickly. ‘Show it all. You’re enjoying it, aren’t you Rick?’

  ‘Oh yeah, I’ve never been entertained like this before,’ Rick replied.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ they both replied in chorus.

  I was very suspicious of Blake’s change of heart though knew exactly what had inspired it. He was enjoying the frisson of being seated next to Rick in the dark, their legs perhaps brushing against each other. I resumed the film. It really didn’t bother me if Blake was engaging in some surreptitious flirtation if it meant I got to show ‘Roman Holiday’ in its entirety. Rick had eyed me off so brazenly last week and even sounded me out as to whether I’d be up for sex. With Blake so suspicious and jealous lately, it was probably best I wasn’t sitting beside Rick. ‘How’s your drink? Do you need a top up Rick?’ I asked.

  He held up his glass. As I stood over him to refill it, I whispered in his ear, ‘Those two words just seem to belong in the same sentence, don’t they? Rick and top.’

  He laughed and slapped me on the arse.

  Blake craned forward. ‘What?’ he hissed.

  On-screen I appeared in front of the Colosseum and I decided to improvise some additional commentary to distract Blake. ‘And here we have the location of that Pepsi ad with Pink, Britney, Beyoncé and of course the delicious Enriqué.’

  Blake and Rick laughed and I suddenly realised that it was for the first time since the film had started. It made me think that perhaps my narration was a tad on the earnest side. Perhaps some humour wouldn’t go astray? Maybe I should even re-do the narration? Add some bloopers? I became absorbed in thinking through the possibilities of embarking on a third and final director’s cut of ‘Roman Holiday’ which would feature a more light-hearted narration.

  By the time, the film finished, I had so many ideas as to how I might rework it. I intended to discuss them over coffee and dolci with Rick, but to my surprise and disappointment, as soon as I had restored the lights, he insisted he had to leave. ‘No coffee before bed. Besides, I have a six-thirty am tomorrow with a client,’ he excused himself.

  ‘But it’s still early,’ I protested. ‘What about some gelato instead?’

  But Rick would not be swayed. He gave Blake a farewell kiss on the cheek, who preened with delight, then headed for the door. I darted after him, still protesting his premature departure. His behaviour struck me as odd. Ever since the film had finished, he’d seemed a little awkward with me. I’d noticed he wouldn’t meet my eye. Had I bored him with the film and he couldn’t wait to escape? He opened the front door himself, but before he could step through it, I grabbed him by the arm to restrain him. He turned and finally faced me. ‘Was it alright, the film?’ I asked. ‘I hope you weren’t bored.’

  ‘No, no, it was very impressive,’ he assured me. ‘And so were you. Alejandro has you in great shape.’

  His compliment reassured me. He leant forward to peck me good night on the cheek and as he did, I pressed my hips against him. I was absolutely amazed to feel that his cock was rock hard. ‘Oh my,’ I murmured.

  Rick jerked away, blushing. He looked deeply embarrassed.

  ‘You were bored by my film, bored stiff,’ I exclaimed in a low voice.

  ‘Um, yeah, anyway, gotta go,’ he said flustered and with that he turned and walked out the door.

  I followed him out, and positioned myself on my porch. When he turned into his own garden gate, his eyes met mine. He smiled guiltily. ‘Why don’t you pop in for that coffee and dolci one afternoon during the week when you have more time?’ I suggested. ‘I’m often home alone.’

  ‘Okay, sure. Sounds great,’ he said quickly. ‘Thanks again.’

  He flashed a distracted smile and hurried inside. I turned away intrigued. His embarrassment was amusing. Clearly, he’d gotten tremendously turned on by the penultimate scene where I packed my suitcase in my underwear. His haste to depart made me suspect that he was rushing next door to masturbate about me. If only I could have followed him, but unfortunately there was Blake to consider …

  I closed the door reluctantly and wandered back into the lounge. Blake was clearing away the remains of the antipasto, oblivious to what had gone on. I filled my glass and sank down on the couch. ‘Rick seemed to find the film stimulating,’ I remarked.

  Blake agreed, then yawned. ‘But I’m tired. I’m off to bed too.’

  As he took himself upstairs, my excitement began to mount. With Blake in bed, there was nothing to stop me stealing next door to take care of Rick’s swollen schlong; that is, except for my own sense of what was right. Though my judgement was somewhat blurred by the amount of Prosecco I’d consumed and by that tantalising encounter with Rick’s erection. I simply had to have more. There was no question that he was willing. I decided it wouldn’t hurt to just step outside and assess the lay of the land.

  I opened the front door silently and padded out down the path. I peered across into Rick’s place. To my disappointment, his front door was closed and downstairs was in darkness. I had thought that perhaps only the security door would be across, that I might catch a glimpse of him semi-naked, preparing for bed, that our eyes would meet and then … I glanced up at his bedroom. There was a light on there. I stepped further out to see if I could see him, when to my immense excitement, up above me, I heard the sound of his balcony door opening. He had spotted me! He was coming out to invite me upstairs. I scurried out onto the pavement and began to turn in his gate, when I realised my mistake. It was in fact our balcony door that was opening. Blake liked to sleep with the French doors open on warm nights. I hastily ducked back inside before he spotted me.

  I told myself it was lucky that Blake had interrupted me. It would be terribly sordid to have sex with Rick when Blake was sleeping only a few feet away, albeit separated by a double brick wall. There was no rush. We could have our afternoon later in the week. I imagined Rick would come beating down my door at the first opportunity, probably tomorrow. It would be Monday and Blake would be safely out of the way at work. This thought recharged my excitement. I scrambled off the couch and made for the DVD collection. It was time for a screening of a less refined nature. There was a certain Falcon porn star who reminded me of Rick, or at least his member reminded me of what had been pressed up against me only five minutes earlier.

  The next day, I didn’t dare to leave the house. I expected Rick’s knock on my door at any moment. The waiting was torturous and by four o’clock I was so pent up I resorted to a repeat screening of the Falcon DVD. The next day, was the same. There was also no sign of him, even when his car was parked outside. I spent a lot of time checking: listening with a glass against our common walls, peering over the backyard fence or through his front window. After two more days passed with still no sign of him, I stole a letter from his mailbox and started ringing his doorbell at all hours, on the pretext that a letter had been misdelivered. After trying and failing five times to return it personally, I gave up, wrote a note on the envelope (‘Something of yours was stuffed in my slot, Stephen xxx’) and put it back in his letterbox.

  Finally, it occurred to me that if he wasn’t at home, then he must be at the gym, his place of employment. However, after attending three days straight at differing hours and still failing to ‘bump into him’, I casually asked Alejandro about his movements. ‘Well, some of Rick’s clients have a lot money. They have gyms in their homes. So he goes to their house, and … gives them private session,’ said Alejandro, raising his eyebrows.

  I didn’t li
ke what Alejandro was implying but I figured it was just professional jealousy. After all, Alejandro didn’t have a devoted following or a waiting list. However, my enquiry about Rick seemed to inflame Alejandro’s feelings for me. He gave me a slap on the butt. ‘We could always schedule a home work-out of our own if you like.’

  ‘But Alejandro, what about your possessive new boyfriend?’ I asked all surprise.

  Alejandro pretended not to hear. ‘Meet me outside in five. We go to my place.’

  I was feeling so sexually frustrated that I agreed, though afterwards I regretted it. Sex with Alejandro was not unlike being in one of his step classes—he couldn’t stay still but was always bouncing about from routine to routine, position to position and yelling instructions the entire time. As I had already spent forty-five fruitless minutes on the step machine waiting for Rick to appear, I was after something a lot less energetic. But slow and sensuous were not in Alejandro’s repertoire. He also lived in Elizabeth Bay, and as I never took my wallet to the gym, I had no cash for a taxi to get myself home. Nor did I feel comfortable asking Alejandro for ten bucks post-sex. It was the sort of request that might be misconstrued and inflame his Latin temper. So I was obliged to walk.

  I was so worn out it took almost an hour to get myself home. I also encountered a surprising amount of snooty ex-trade en route as I trudged through the streets of Potts Point, Kings Cross, Darlinghurst and Surry Hills. Amazingly, when I passed Rick’s house, he was actually home for once. His front door was open and there was music playing. But I was hot, sweaty, and ripe from my session with Alejandro. I did not want to be seen in such a state or caught in conversation with Rick. I was bound to have a dreadful case of cock breath. I hurried past and entered my own house. My first thought was to rush upstairs, shower, change, gargle vigorously, then pay a visit on some pretext. But the mere sight of the stairs was too much. I needed to revive first. I grabbed a protein drink from the fridge, collapsed on the couch and promptly fell asleep.

  I awoke hours later to find Blake tapping me on the shoulder, his face like thunder. ‘What have you been doing?’ he demanded. ‘What is this stain?’

  I gazed down at where his finger was prodding. There was a dried milky substance splattered down my leg and all over the couch. I couldn’t make sense of it. Yes, I’d had sex with Alejandro but I’d given myself a cursory clean-up afterwards. Surely, I hadn’t walked home in such a state, past all those people I knew, and then managed to smear Alejandro’s sperm all over my very expensive couch? Though, in fact it was perfectly possible. Alejandro could shoot a lot of sperm—great gleaming arcs that leapt for metres—and it was quite feasible that I might have been unwittingly adorned down the back of my leg. I sat up, truly alarmed, and as I did, something fell to the floor. It was the cardboard carton of my vanilla protein drink. ‘Oops,’ I said. ‘It must have spilled.’

  ‘Clean that up, and while you’re at it, the entire room needs attention,’ Blake snapped.

  For once I obeyed without any protest. An opportunity to invite Rick over could arise at any time, or he might finally come calling. I needed to exorcise his memory of the squalor he had witnessed when he first ventured into our house. So I spot-cleaned the stain, dusted and vacuumed, then checked the CDs, DVDs, books and magazines for any obvious lapses in taste. Some I threw out; others that I couldn’t bear to part with, I labelled as belonging to Blake.

  I’d spent ten days in a state of heightened erotic tension. At first, it had been tantalising, but increasingly it had become just plain frustrating. I’d long since eaten all the dolci waiting for Rick to show up. I was just heading out the door to replace them, when Ann, who I hadn’t heard from in months, rang. ‘Eric tells me you’ve been practically living at the gym and are back in fantastic shape,’ she complimented me.

  I said nothing to that. I would not forgive or forget her unkind and inaccurate remarks about my weight. ‘Which is perfect timing,’ she continued, ‘as you’ll never guess what has fallen into our lap this morning?’

  But I could guess. I’d had nothing to do for months and months but imagine what my next job might be. ‘Something in film I hope. That should be my next step, don’t you agree?’ I said firmly.

  ‘Yes, well you will be back in front of the cameras and you never know, it might be shown at the cinema.’

  This prospect was beginning to sound very exciting. ‘After all,’ Ann continued, ‘Val Morgan spruiks all sorts of products there these days.’

  She didn’t need to say anything more. I knew. ‘No, absolutely not,’ I said. ‘It was a huge mistake to allow myself to be associated with that vile muck to begin with. It’s cost me so many serious opportunities.’

  To my surprise, Ann concurred. ‘Stephen, those were my sentiments exactly. I told them we wouldn’t consider it, even though they were offering double the fee. I knew how you felt about it.’

  ‘Double the fee?’ I repeated.

  ‘Yes, but of course that’s not enough. Not when this campaign would establish you unquestionably as the face of Tommy with the public. It’s a very big commitment. However, when they came back to me this morning, offering three times the original fee, well that does deserve consideration.’

  I did some quick calculations in my head. It was a year’s salary to some people.

  ‘They’re also doing the shoot in Melbourne so you’d have an all-expenses paid trip. Naturally, they’ll put you up somewhere nice. The ad is to promote their exclusive new range.’

  ‘What is it?’ I asked suspiciously.

  After the last time, I was highly sceptical of Ann’s airy remarks about Tommy’s gourmet credentials. ‘It’s Tommy for kids,’ Ann elaborated, ‘and that’s why the ad is shooting in Melbourne because your co-star lives there. Amber. She’s four years old and she’ll be playing your daughter.’

  ‘My what? I’m not old enough to be a father.’

  ‘Of course you are.’

  ‘What I mean is, I don’t look old enough to be anyone’s father, and especially not the father of a four year old. That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Jamie Oliver is younger than you and he has two children,’ Ann retorted. ‘The concept is that you’re a young, hip Dad who enjoys getting in the kitchen and using Tommy to make homemade pizza and baked beans and spaghetti and all the things little Amber loves to eat.’

  The whole idea of playing a father at my age irked me; however, the money was extremely tempting. It would mean I could proceed with the renovations, which had looked destined to be postponed yet again due to my dwindling finances.

  ‘Stephen, you and I both know the idea of you as a father is ridiculous, but that’s their concept, and they’ll pay you handsomely to do it. You could take a year off on the proceeds. You could go to LA. They won’t know the ad there. Truly, this is a no-brainer.’

  I discussed it with Blake who urged me to say yes and my mother who cautioned against it. She had been haunted for years by an ad for a slimmer’s aid. But ultimately, the money was just too good to turn down. I promised my mother and myself that I would never do another ad for them. The filming was set for two weeks time but during that fortnight I was scrambling to schedule the builders, then ensure everything was ready for them to begin. Strauss was going to the New York and London Spring Fashion Weeks in September, then taking a holiday afterwards. He’d offered us his apartment while he was away so we could avoid the mess at Ridge Street.

  Surprisingly, during those two weeks, I failed to run into Rick. However, once the builders were confirmed, I stopped trying to seek him out. I didn’t want to be the one to impart the news about the renovations. That was something better left for Blake—he was always so smug about being better friends with Rick anyway—though he was showing no inclination for the task either. Nor did he seem to want to come to Melbourne with me, even though I had arranged to stay on after the shoot for the weekend. Of course, his absence suited me. I always relished the sexual opportunities a new city offered, and no Blake meant I cou
ld indulge. I did invite him along, rather half- heartedly, but he brushed the offer aside, saying there was too much to be done before the builders descended on us.

  The Tommy shoot proved to be highly amusing as Little Amber was an absolute princess. When some of the Tommy sauce accidentally spilled on her dress while we were making a pizza, she threw a terrible tantrum. But the real highlight of the day came when she took a bite of the homemade Tommy baked beans, screwed up her little face and declared them to be ‘horrible’. The director had quite a job convincing Amber that what she needed to say was ‘yummy’ and with a big smile on her face. When Amber protested tearfully that ‘telling fibs was bad’, people’s patience began to wear thin and there were mutterings about recasting. ‘Daddy’, however, was awfully proud of ‘his daughter’.

  Despite Amber’s antics, the shoot was concluded on time and I had an extended free weekend ahead of me, before my flight home late Sunday. But the prospect didn’t excite me. Melbourne was a little lonely by myself. There were all these new restaurants to try but it was dull eating alone and I felt conspicuous sitting at a table solo. Nor was it as much fun sexually as I’d anticipated. There were numerous saunas but evidently I went to the wrong one at the wrong time, as there wasn’t a lot going on. When I tried a different place the next night, there were only a couple of guys I was really into and they both knocked me back. My suite at the hotel was fabulous but the bed was so vast, it seemed a bit of a waste having no one to share it with. I found myself wishing I’d given Blake more encouragement to join me. When I rang him, Thursday night, told him I missed him and that he should fly down for the weekend, he laughed. ‘What’s wrong? The Latin Quarter didn’t live up to expectation?’

  That irritated me, but I didn’t rise to the provocation. I changed the subject and asked if he’d spoken to Rick about the renovations. ‘Yeah, I told him,’ Blake said somewhat tersely, ‘and he wasn’t too happy but I’m doing my best to smooth things over.’

  After we’d hung up, I brooded over his comment. Plainly, he thought I was using this time apart to cheat on him. Even after I went to bed, I still found myself dwelling on what amounted to an unwarranted accusation of infidelity. Then it occurred to me how I could prove him wrong. I would fly home early and spend the weekend with him. I sprang out of bed, rang the airline and discovered I could change my ticket and get back to Sydney on Friday evening.