A restless night's sleep because I fall asleep anxious that I have to pack and catch a train to Liverpool in the morning only to wake up and realise it's not until after noon. But the bonus is a very vivid dream I remember. A religious choir who decide whether someone should be accepted Gay or not and allowed to come out or not! A sort of Gay Logan's Run.
My friend, who is not out in real life to his family, is ushered forward and the choir burst into a beautifully harmonised acceptance song. No idea what the song was. I am standing next to him worried about the impact the result may have on him but I need not worry as he's safe. A blond soloist with a beaming smile and blonde straggly goatee like gold thread in sunbeams sings out loud and the choir rise and fall with him. I realise the choir is made up of some of the Gay guys who have been accepted and joined. The choir is ecstatic.
As the choir disperse, a punky boy walks towards me. Expensive, scruffy style. A tweed jacket with ragged cuffs and worn velvet elbow pads. A public school, country boy renegade? Black spiky hair, an expensive cut made to look naturally unkempt. Black stubble on a square jaw. Pale milky skin against his coal black hair and iron stubble. Blue, wet eyes intelligent with long thick lashes. Nipples pierced too little metal bumps under his shirt. Hands in pockets flicking his cock, his belt loose and the line of his pants visible. A punk who wears a global brand like Calvin Klein? Mala beads round his neck and hanging between a strong chest. Very comfortable in his skin and no fear of being discovered to be deliberately provocative. Muddy boots and a ten to two strutting gait. He gently pulls my hip toward him as he leans forward and whispers in my ear...
No comments:
Post a Comment