Heat Nocturnal

Heat Nocturnal

by Nik Fonos

Summer 1986, Adelaide and Mike moved to the lush groove of Parliament's

Flashlight

booming out of his Holden HR's Clarion speakers.

Sweat trickled from Mike's face, neck and chest.

It was 3am at the Henley Beach Sailing Club car park. They had spent the day in the sun, sleeping on the sand, in and out of the water, smoking dope, eating fruit and drinking cold beers.

It was Mike's last summer with them, but no one knew it at the time. He'd just finished his Honours. He was about to go to Athens for a year, where he'd "make his home-base then travel across Europe," as he said.

Slink was in the backseat with Leila. Leila was long, olive-skinned, now golden-dark from the tan she got. He could never avoid her Phoenician eyes. She'd recently cut her hair for summer and looked more like Slink than she did before.

Slink's plans did not extend beyond next Wednesday, when he was starting at a menswear store in the city. The twenty per-cent discount on clothes made him happy - he'd be in gelato-coloured linen suits for this summer.

Leila had been with him for just over a year but Slink fucked around. She pretended not to notice, just like all their friends.

Slink was tall and golden-brown like her, with a Roman nose and pencil-drawn lips. He dressed like he'd just walked off his yacht onto an Adriatic Greek island. But he was dangerous.

He was 'allegedly' involved in 'violent altercations' as the cops said, but they couldn't make it stick. He nearly got busted for fencing stolen goods, but they couldn't make that stick either.

Mike had seen him once break a beer bottle on a guy's face for no reason other than, as Slink said, "That cunt walked into me on purpose."

"I've fallen in love with a crook and a cunt, what can I do?" Leila said to Mike one day. "Leave him" Mike wanted to say.

"I love you," he wanted to say, but instead he said, "Slink's OK, just a bit offbeat, he's had a hard time..."

"Mate stop dancing...you're killing my buzz!" Slink shouted from the car.

Mike stopped and turned to face them. He caught a glimpse of Leila's thin fingers wrapped around Slink's cock.

She was still wearing her faux suede bikini that covered just the front of her breasts, making the sides more evident. She was, however, gazing at Mike.

"Dance," she ordered. "Don't listen to him, he's wound up, aren't you baby?" she said, turning to glance into Slink's eyes.

"Give me a toke," Slink ordered and Mike passed him the J.

He dragged back then exhaled the smoke into Laila's mouth, sending a funnel of grey dope smoke through her pursed lips.

Mike was tired, his head spun. The sun, the heat, the booze, the cigarettes and joints beat him. The music had ended. He felt the soft night and heard the tender roll of waves.

"Come in man" Slink said.

Mike opened the driver's door and fell into the front bench seat. He dropped his head onto the back of the seat, stoned, worn and happy.

"You're tired," Leila said and began to massage his head. Bergamot and honey came from her wrists.

"Tired..." the word dropped from his mouth.

Her hands weaved into Mike's sweat-soaked hair as she breathed out a throaty moan. He lifted his eyes to see Slink and Leila's faces in his rear-view mirror. Slink was fucking Leila from behind. Her hands gripped tighter around Mike's head with every one of Slink's thrusts.

Mike's breathing found a new rhythm to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon as it filled the car. Old stars were surfed over the event horizon.

He mechanically took out his cock and began to play with it. Leila and Slink continued fucking.

"Turn around," Leila said and Mike submitted.

She took his cock into her mouth as Slink fucked her from behind. Both men bent over Leila's slender back and Mike and Slink's mouth met. The taste of stale cigarette and dope in Slink's mouth excited him.

Their tongues locked. Unshaved, they burned each other's cheeks while Leila tightened her lips around Mike's cock.

She sucked his cock slowly, but with purpose.

She finally lifted her mouth off his cock, took it in her hand and guided it into Slink's mouth. Slink was still bent over her. Leila and Slink were now sharing Mike's cock, as Slink was precariously trying to keep his cock in Leila's dark, moist pussy.

Soon it became too difficult to maintain and Leila pulled Slink's cock out and fell back onto the back seat. She opened her legs. Mike was aroused seeing Leila with her bikini top while naked from waist down. Her black, dense, kinky-haired pussy was framed by lighter untanned skin.

"Eat me," she said.

Slink thrust his face into Leila's pussy as she retook Mike's cock in her mouth.

Leila played with her nipples with her left hand tucked into her bikini top, while she drew on Mike's cock with her mouth. Leila's other hand was placed on Mike's head as his face was immersed in her pussy. He thrust his tongue into her pink, wet flesh and tasted salt, urine and pussy salve.

"Good," Leila breathed out of the side of her mouth.

A six-limbed beast, a street brawl -- muscles, ribs, navels, earlobes and eyes all crashed together.

Mouths full of cock; tongues wrapped with tongues; hands locked. Whose mouth and whose ass was an irrelevancy for them. The sound of the waves on the cold sand intertwined with Pink Floyd's ending.

Slink grimaced as he came inside Leila as she rode him. Mike came on Slink's chest while Slink licked his balls and Leila held his cock and kissed him. They unlocked and fell back onto the back seat completely spent, oiled and shiny in each other's sweat.

Nothing was said while they held each other's hands. They all loved each other, a sudden and small realization. The night was unhurriedly lifting. The sporadic intervention of a passing car's headlights, the solitary sound of an early bird, a gentle sea breeze, sketched the event to a close.

In an attempt to break the silence, Mike bent over into the front, took the tape out and put on Bowie's Low.

"That's better, grab the gear and roll a J," Slink said.

Leila, calm, naked, legs wide one over each of them, gleamed under the car park's lights.

"That breeze is perfect," she said, the sweat cooled on her skin.

Mike lit the joint -- they leaned back again stared into nothing and shared it. The fragrant smoke laced the stale body-weighted atmosphere of the Holden.

"That was ok..." Mike said.

Leila and Mike said nothing. Slink hummed gently to the brooding Warszawa. They were all bathed in the sadness of unforgiving love, friendship and the end of summer.

"I'm leaving in two weeks," Mike said.

"We'll see you in Greece," Slink said, unconvinced.

"For sure," Leila said, equally unconvinced.

Mike just took another drag on the joint.