Making Friends

Sometimes when I talk my voice picks up odd accents. I don't do it on purpose, or even know it's happening, but I do know it happens. People are always asking me where I'm from, or if I've traveled, because my speech will have this inflection or that. I've never actually been anywhere, but I sound like I'm from New York, or California, Boston or Austin, even Ireland or, once, Australia. The really funny thing about that one was that it was an Aussie that picked it out. He thought that he'd run into a fellow countryman up here in the states. Probably I had heard him talking and subconsciously picked up the inflections and subtleties from him. The first I knew of it was when he sidled up to me at the bar and asked me what part of Australia I was from.

I laughed and said I wasn't, why did he ask. That's when I heard it. There in that moment, I really did sound Australian. He looked skeptical until I explained. "I'm actually from Atlanta, but I've been in theatre. I pick up accents. Accidentally."

We ended up chatting. I bought him a drink, he bought me one. A gorgeous girl came over and tried to buy him a drink and he politely refused, which threw me for a moment, but only for a moment. Okay, maybe he wasn't here to pick up girls. Then it dawned on me that he was trying to pick up... me.

Oh...

A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth and I leaned a little closer. "You want to be careful in this town. Folks are nice, but not very understanding."

He looked confused. "How d'you mean?" He really did have a sexy accent. I could see why the woman had tried to hook up with him.

I reached over under the bar and laid a hand on his knee. He stilled. "Folks are nice, but not very understanding about..." I squeezed his knee and he made a little noise, covering it up by taking a drink.

"How d'you know... What makes you think that I'm..." He glanced around. The woman who had tried to buy him a drink waved coquettishly at him and he smiled and lifted his drink, then turned back to the bar.

"That's why," I said. "Seriously? Have you seen her? And she wanted you, man."

He glanced back at her again. "You think?"

"Stop looking at her unless you plan on giving her what she wants," I muttered. "You'll give her ideas."

He looked over at me. "So you think you know what I want, then?"

I downed the rest of my drink and leaned over close, speaking softly in his ear. "Yeah. You wanna get outta here?" I set my glass down, tossed some money on the bar and waved to the bartender. "Later, Jerry." The bartender waved without looking up. I clapped my new friend on the shoulder and grinned. "Later, mate. Welcome to America." He looked at me, stunned, and I gave him a wink and walked out.

I waited around outside for a while, leaned up against my car and smoking a cigarette. I had almost given up when he came out the door. By the look of his walk, he'd had a couple of shots of liquid courage before he finally got up the nerve to take me up on my offer. I saw the cop watching the bar take interest and stubbed out my cigarette on the tire.

"Here, you can't drive like that," I said, going up and taking his arm. "Let me drive you home. Cops'll pull you over in a second if they see you on the road." I nodded in the direction of the patrol car and he stiffened up. I waved to the cop, indicating that I was going to drive the Aussie, and he went back to his newspaper. As I helped him into the passenger seat I said, "So, you never did tell me your name."

"Charlie," he said, watching my eyes as I took perhaps too long fastening his seat belt.

"Well Charlie," I grinned, copying his accent when I said his name, "I'm Sam Payton. Now that you've got me what're you gonna do with me?"

He licked his lips and I almost leaned in to kiss him right then. "Take me home, Sam," he said huskily.

That drive home was perhaps one of the most interesting drives I've ever made. As soon as we were out of sight of the bar, he started to get handsy. Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on driving when you've had a couple of beers and a sexy Australian guy has his hand down your pants? I nearly hit a deer, slamming on the brakes and leaving a layer of rubber on the road behind me. I swore inventively and he took the opportunity while I was stopped, to lean across and lick my ear, laughing when that induced more swearing.

"Where is this place of yours, Sam?" he asked in my ear, burying his hand in my hair. "I hope it's not much further."

It wasn't, but much to far all the same. When I pulled into the drive and parked, I barely had it out of gear before I was all but pulling him over on top of me. I managed to ask him the question I ought to have asked him before we ever started anything, and he confirmed that he was safe. It gave us both a chance to sit back and catch our breath long enough to realize that we weren't teenagers, and didn't really want to try to have sex in the front seat of a car with a manual transmission. With a hungry look that took him in from top to bottom and left him no question as to my intentions, I turned and got out of the car. He stayed watching me as I walked up to the house and opened the door. I stopped there and turned around, teasing open the buttons on my shirt for his benefit.

"Coming?" I asked, and stepped inside. I heard him growl as he got out of the car to follow me. I managed to kick off my shoes and socks and get my shirt off before he opened the door and stepped in. He took a moment to glance around, taking in the small kitchen, cozy livingroom, hallway leading off towards the bedrooms, and then his eyes fastened on me. The next thing I knew I was up against the wall with a hundred and ninety pounds of horny Australian pressing against me. He pinned my hands over my head and kissed me hard and fast. I could feel his erection pressing against mine through our pants and I knew he was as close as I was. I was going to be doing laundry in the morning. I moaned into his mouth as I came and he arched up against me with a grunt and I knew he had come, too.

"Fuck," he moaned as he leaned against me.

"If you want," I said into his neck, "But the lube and condoms are in the bedroom."

I led the way down the hallway, and he followed, stripping off clothes as he went. I stepped into the bathroom and grabbed a couple of cloths, tossing one to him to clean up with as I stripped off the rest of my clothes. When I turned around I had to stop and take in the sight of him. He was gorgeous. Not perfect, but he had a tan, muscled body that made him look younger than the late-thirtyish I had originally thought.

"Damn, you look good," I said appreciatively. I flopped down on the bed and patted beside me invitingly. He wasted no time in joining me and soon we were tangled up in each others' arms again. I had thought to be on top, but when I found myself on my back I didn't object. I threw my head back and moaned as he slid his mouth down over my cock. I want to know where he learned to suck because damn, he was good! He stopped before I came again and reached for the lube. He took his time about preparing me. One finger at a time, so slowly that I thought I would go mad.

"Condom," he growled and I tossed him one. He rolled it on and gripped my hip with one hand and my cock with the other. When he pushed into me I came again. It's a good thing I live alone because he proceeded to pound me into the headboard with no regard for how much noise we were making. He finally came hard with a strangled cry and collapsed on top of me. I managed to push him off far enough to clean both him and me up, and then I collapsed in bed next to him.

Sometime during the night one of us must have gotten cold, because there was a blanket pulled over us when I woke up. He was still fast asleep and snoring softly, so I slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I laid a pair of sleep pants and another T-shirt over the end of the bed for when he woke up and snuck out. By the time he shuffled out of the bedroom looking like death warmed over I had already bundled our clothes into the washer and cooked a pan of bacon and fried bread and made a pot of coffee.

The washer beeping to indicate it was finished made him wince. I poured him a cup of coffee and pushed the plate of food towards him. "Help yourself, Charlie. Sugar's on the side board. Milk in the fridge if you want it."

He merely shook his head and sucked down half a cup. "Did we fuck last night?" he asked.

"Yes we did," I answered as I pulled wet clothes out of the washer. "Well, you did me, anyway. Thanks for that, by the way. You were amazing."

"How drunk was I?"

"Not so drunk that you couldn't hold me down."

"Oh, god..."

"Don't think I didn't want it."

"I think I'm still drunk."

"Hungover, certainly." I slammed the dryer door and he winced again. "Eat some toast. It'll help."

He looked hard at me, frowning in concentration. "S-Sam?" he asked tentatively.

"Yup. Charlie's what you told me."

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm Charlie. Brooks."

"So, Charlie Brooks," I leaned on the counter. "Not something you do often, is it?"

"No, not so much."

"Something you regret doing?"

"N-not so much..."

"Something you'd do again?" I reached over and tucked a curl of hair behind his ear.

"I... I'd have to think about it."

I cupped my hand around the back of his head and leaned in, slowly so that he could pull away if he wanted. I took one gentle, coffee-flavored kiss from him and then backed away. "I'm gonna go watch TV. Join me if you want. I'll drive you back to town as soon as your clothes are dry." I took my coffee and a handful of bacon and toast into the living room and flopped down on my old threadbare couch to watch Saturday morning cartoons while I waited for him to make up his mind. I was halfway through an episode of The Flintstones when he joined me on the couch, avoiding eye contact, but at least he was there.

"Have you been with a man before?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the TV. "Because you certainly knew what you were doing."

"Yeah," he said, without hesitation, "It's not that... I've never..."

"Picked up a guy in a bar before?"

"Yeah."

"Do you regret it?" I asked again.

Charlie hesitated and I looked over at him. He grinned and leaned in close. "Not at all..."

I tossed the remote on the coffee table and turned to meet him. This was going to be a good day.