I find the library on my second day there.
Holy shit, it’s gigantic.
Easily the biggest building I’ve ever stepped foot in.
Carrying heavy stacks of books up the hill becomes a regular thing.
I often return to work with pink book-shaped indentations on my arms.
???
The only time I really see Porter upstairs is in the bathroom or the hallway.
And if anyone is watching, as they often are, he barely nods hello.
Until the following Monday.
The blokes have headed across town to play a game of footy.
Last week, we joined them.
I can throw a ball around as well as any rural lad.
But this time, both of us have stayed home.
“Too tired,” I hear him mumble when they invite him.
“Maybe next time,” I shrug, when someone knocks.
His door is shut when I venture out into the corridor to take a shower.
Maybe he’s taking a nap.
Or not.
There he stands, completely naked next to the mirror.
Toothbrush in his hand.
Towel crumpled at his feet.
Did it slip all of a sudden when he heard me walking toward him?
We stand there for a moment, eyes meeting in the reflection of the mirror.
I should get in the shower.
I should look away.
My thoughts catch alight.
Quit staring at his ass, you fool.
“You're allowed to look,” he says.
Then he turns slowly.
His cock is swollen and erect.
