CHAPTER 5

The afternoon was rather warm. The neighbourhood was deserted. I supposed everyone was indoors cooling off with a nice, refreshing glass of iced lemon tea if not already having lunch. Instead of the regular route to his house, Tony suggested that we took a short cut via a tree-sheltered dirt track, passing his affluent neighbours' high-walled backyards.

Within a few minutes we were in his mother's garden, ablaze with bougainvillaeas and all sorts of perennials. "Mom's pride and joy," Tony said, gesturing to the well-tended plants. I nodded and followed him into the house.

Quickly I called my mother to let her know I would not be coming home for lunch. To my surprise, she said I could stay at Tony's the whole afternoon. My father was in one of his coughing fits again and she would prefer that I stayed away for a while.

The chilly crabs were simply delicious. We washed it down with lemonade Tony asked me to make. After lunch, he took me on a tour of the house. Our last stop was his room. It was a large room, almost the size of my parents' bedroom and mine combined. His parents made sure that their only child was not deprived of anything. He had his own entertainment corner, complete with sophisticated AV gadgets and games. On the walls were pictures of his favourite movie stars, singers and sports personalities.

Tony turned on the stereo and I soon found myself slowly sliding onto the plush carpet, feeling loggy and drowsy. Tony tossed me one of his pillows and settled himself among the many throw cushions a few feet away. Ahh. This is the life, I thought, hardly able to keep my eyes open anymore.

I woke up one hour later, my clothes damp with perspiration. I got up and opened the windows to let the afternoon breeze in. Feeling a bit refreshed, I returned to the carpet. Tony was still deep in slumber. In his sleep, he must have pulled off his T-shirt and shorts for he only had his white briefs on. His back glistened with sweat, moist beads forming on his forehead. Instinctively I reached for a magazine and started fanning. He stirred and opened his eyes.

"Hey...what time is it?" he groggily asked.

I consulted the alarm clock on his nightstand. "A little bit after three," I told him, putting the magazine back on its rack.

"Aww...it's still early. Wake me up in one hour. We'll take a shower and I'll send you home."

Tony drifted back to sleep. I stared at him, wondering how he could nap in that sweltering heat.

At such close proximity, I noticed a new slimliness about his sprawling body. The muscles on his arms and legs were evenly toned, his stomach lean and flat. His well-defined chest was hairless except for the sparse fine ones growing around his nipples. He reminded me of the pictures of Greek statues in my school book.

As if mesmerised, I began touching his body, tracing the smoothness of his chest with my fingers, down to the plane of his stomach. Surprised at how hard it felt, my fingers lingered there a while. Tony grunted, his eyes still closed. When his breathing returned to normal, my fingers resumed their journey downwards. Tony let out a low groan and spread his legs. I noticed the healthy bulge of his crotch. The thin cotton of his underwear strained to confine its growing contents.

"Go on, touch it," Tony whispered, fully awake now. His voice was throaty. I hesitate, not sure what I was supposed to do. He took my hand and guided it into his underwear. Then he opened up my palm and enclosed it around his pulsating member. My small hand hardly covered it. "Stroke it, slowly...," Tony mumbled between gasps. I did as I was told, having found a rhythm that seemed to please him. I felt a strange pressure rising in my own abdomen, my heart drumming against my chest.

"Faster now, Gabe...," Tony was breathing harder and harder, his pelvis thrusting wildly. A moment later he stiffened, and I felt warm, wet liquid spurt into my palm and landed on his heaving chest. For a second, I panicked, thinking that I had hurt him. But when I withdrew my hand, the wet stuff in my palm wasn't blood. And the look on Tony's face was not that of pain, but of pleasure.

I felt a pinch on my left arm, which brought me back to Mme le Blanc's classroom. Lili smiled. "Your turn, Monsieur," she pointed to the exercise book.

"Je m'excuse, Mme le Blanc. C'est la question numéro treize, n'est-ce pas?"

"Oui. Où étiez-vous?"