Surfer Boys by Neil Plakcy

Author:Neil Plakcy [Plakcy, Neil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Anthologies
ISBN: 9781573443494
Amazon: 1573443492
Goodreads: 6437438
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2009-05-01T00:00:00+00:00

SLEEPING IN THE SAND

Danielle de Santiago

At first, I just called him Surfer Boy, because I didn’t know his name. I saw him waxing his board in front of the tent he and his buddy had pitched on the beach. The tent’s colors blurred with the blue of the African sky over Djerba, a beautiful island off the coast of Tunisia.

Standing with him in the breakers while he was looking out on the water searching for the next wave to roll in, I learned his name was Julien and that he and his buddy Gaspard were both French and both were nineteen years old.

I liked Julien from the start. He had those wild dark curls of the southern French men that always fell in his face, and his long muscular body had this golden brown tan that matched the dark of his doe eyes.

I liked to watch him. In my imagination I sketched his broad smooth chest, followed his silky skin over his little hard nipples down to his flat belly where a thin trail of dark hair disappeared into his shorts. My eyes stopped at his bulge, lingered for a second on the damp fabric that showed the outlines of his cock.

Then I went on to his muscular legs, as he stood up to his knees in the foaming breakers. His hand glided firmly over the surface of his surfboard and for a short, almost painful moment I wished his hand would do that to me. I imagined how his hand would wander down my wet back…to my hips and…No. I was sure that I wouldn’t have a chance. This dude was straight. I was sure about that…until that night in the club.

He and Gaspard walked in with Kathy, a little blonde who sold souvenirs down by the beach. From my chair I could see how she pushed them into the humid warmth of the club after she had shown her hot-pink all-inclusive wristband to the bouncer.

The souvenir-seller had become friends with the two surfer dudes, and I often saw her sitting in front of the tent, or in the mornings when she brought them leftovers from the breakfast buffet in the hotel and coffee in a thermos. Gaspard didn’t speak any English, so he was either out on the ocean with his board, or sitting in the tent with Kathy.

I was surprised when I saw Julien, Gaspard, and Kathy at the club, because it was usually restricted to staff and guests of the hotel. Julien saw my astonished look and laughed happily while he touched his lips in a gesture of discretion with one finger and pushed Kathy and Gaspard with the other hand toward the group of low leather sofas where I was sitting.

“Hey,” he said in that broad French accent which gave me goose bumps. He let himself fall next to me on the couch.

“You know Gaspard and Kathy, don’t you?” He pointed at the other two as they took seats on the opposite side of the table.

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