Luke And I Go Out To Dinner

Luke and I go out for dinner. We’ve both got nothing to do on Saturday night, so we decide to do nothing together.

We go to Donatos and eat pasta. We have a bottle each of wine, as I wanted red, and he want white and neither of us were willing to compromise.

“We can afford a bottle of wine each,” Luke protests.

“A whole bottle each?”

“Yeah, sure, don’t be a pussy.”

I laugh.

After we’d finished discussing everyone we know. After we’d finished denigrating the political system. When we were mildly pissed, we played fuck, marry, destroy.

Luke said he’d Fuck Shia Labeouf, marry Heath Ledger, destroy Tony Abbott

I said I’d fuck Wilmer Valderrama, 

“Really,” said Luke.

“Biggest dick in Hollywood, they say.”

“Who says?” says Luke.

“Over 8 inches, it is claimed.”

“By who?”

“By him.”

“I see,” said Luke.

“I’d marry Jake Gyllenhaal.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Luke.

“Nicest man in Hollywood.”

“Okay,” said Luke.

“And I’d also destroy Tony Abbot.”

“What about Australians? says Luke.

“I’d marry Aaron Pedersen, fuck Alex Demetriades and still destroy Tony Abbott,” I rattle off without a breath.

“Okay,” says Luke.

“Your Australian?” I say.

“Well, I only need a fuck,” says Luke.

“True for all of us,” I say. I laugh. “So, who would it be?”

Luke creases his forehead in thought. “Um.” He thinks some more. 

“Would you like some thinking music?”

“No.”

“I could hum.”

“No.” He furrows his brow even further. “Oh, I know,” he says. “Simon Baker, I’d fuck Simon Baker,” he exclaims.

He says it loudly and everyone in the restaurant looks around.

“Simon Baker,” Luke Whispers. “I’d fuck Simon Baker.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I got it with everyone else in the place."

We both laugh.

Then Luke, comes out and says, “You have the best cock of all my ex-boyfriends.” Just like that, at the same time that the restaurant’s noise dies down and he says it loud enough again for those around us to her. The couple next to us to look over. She smiles. He doesn't.

I make big eyes at Luke. He makes big eyes at me. I stop myself from laughing, as that would just draw more attention to us and what was said.

“It's got just the correct amount of girth.” Luke smiles. He drinks his beer.

I try not to blush. I can't. I don't know what to say. I stutter, momentarily. 

“So, what were the others like?” I ask. 

“Nyr,” he says. He shrugs.

“Michael Brown?” He was the guy after me who I kind of got dumped for, even if I was only, essentially, a fuck buddy. Michael was always way too aggressive towards me for no real reason.

Luke holds up his little finger. 

The couple next to us look. She smiles. He doesn't.

Luke suddenly puts his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“And Scott?”

“He’s out of town.” Luke smiles again. Is his grin just a little wonky? How much wine?

“Anyway, you know,” says Luke.

Good old Scott. Luckiest son of a bitch who ever lived, with an amazing apartment top of Flinder’s Lane. Liberal voting, property developer whose first developments were on entirely borrowed money, which turned out to be a financial gold mine, setting him up for life.

Yes, I did know him before Luke.

I used to go to his apartment top of Flinder’s Lane and fuck him with his straight mate property developer who lived in the Commonwealth Bank Building in Bourke Street.

He used to ply us, and himself, with Ketamine then he’d get on his knees and take it like a girl prossy on a busy Saturday night. With all that Ketamine, thank god for Viagra, is all I can say. His straight mate and I used to take turns on him until the bag of Ketamine was finished.

So yes, while I did know Scott intimately, his penis did not play a big part in our recreation sex.

“I can’t remember,” I say. “He was far too busy with his arse in the air for me to take note of his dick size.”

Luke doesn't find it funny when I bring it up over beers. That's not funny. He smiles. Seriously, I tell you.

At Luke’s 30th birthday, right at the end, I snuggled into him and danced dirty, just for a minute. Luke was drunk. Scott was watching. I wondered how far I could push it. I knew Luke would respond, just because we've known each other for a long time. He knows, and I know, that nothing is in a cuddle from me to him, other than friendship. 

Well, not since Scott arrived on the scene.

We danced close. I thought we fitted. I've got lifetime status. Can you say the same thing? I thought, as I looked over at Scott. He only glanced twice. He kept chatting to someone on the edge of the dance floor, looking like he was having fun.

To Scott's credit, he didn't even seem to stress. He continued chatting; the smile didn't leave his face. But he was keeping his eye on us, just out the corner, I could see that.

“You have got the best cock,” Luke whispers, quietly so we aren't gazed upon again as drunks, again, by the couple next to us, who are both drinking their drinks through straws.

“Well, to tell you the truth... I've never had any complaints.”

“Listen to you,” Luke says. He has the most gorgeous smile.

“I knew Michael wasn't doing it for you,” I said. “You always looked in need. You always looked unsatisfied. Pissed off, even... back then. Michael hated my guts.”

“I'm not saying anything bad about Michael.”

I hold up my little finger. He nods.

“Hard act to follow,” he says. He sips his beer. “I'm only talking about size. Don't praise yourself in any other department.”

We gaze over our beer glasses, as we drink.

“What sort of couple do you think we would have made?” I ask.

“Well, with me as one half, we’d have worked out fine,” says Luke. “But your commitment issues would have put a strain on things.”

“My commitment issues,” I repeat.

“You never wanted to commit to me,” says Luke.

It was true, what could I say to that? I picked up my wine and took a sip.