It wasn’t something Dane had been aware of before he stood on the chair to clean the top of the sliding glass door, but now he’d discovered it, the knowledge was going to be impossible to forget.
His summer holidays were speeding towards their ultimate end. Already behind him were a week in tropical Bali, and five days over Christmas with his parents on their farm. He’d celebrated New Year with friends in an appropriately wild style and in between the hedonism, time had been found to complete all the little chores he was too busy to get around to doing during the year. That included cleaning the windows.
It was a small movement, but enough to catch his attention. His new neighbour had walked into the laundry, and from where Dane stood, he could see right in over the fence.
The man appeared to be in his late thirties, which meant they were possibly around the same age. He was tall, slender, but toned, like an athlete, and he had a thickly-haired chest. Southern European or Middle Eastern if Dane wasn’t mistaken.
Dane watched the man dropping clothes into his washing machine and felt a warm rush of endorphins as his neighbour bent to remove his underpants. As he dropped the garment into the machine, he turned to look out the window. Immediately, Dane began spraying and wiping the window with gusto, his eyes darting between the job at hand and his neighbour, who by that time, appeared to have noticed him.
Play it cool. Act naturally. Act like you haven’t been perving at him.
And when the glass door was the cleanest it had been since he moved in, Dane climbed down from the chair and moved onto the windows in the kitchen.
* * * *
Two days later, Dane pulled into the driveway of the small complex of three villas where he lived and noticed a letter poking out of the slot in his mailbox.
Probably a bill, was his first thought, but then again, in an age of Internet and emails, finding something other than a flyer advertising real estate in his letterbox was mildly exciting.
He parked the car and ambled down the driveway to the mailboxes. The letter, it turned out, was for a previous tenant who hadn’t been at the address for at least a year. Yet the flash of disappointment he felt was soon replaced by a stronger and infinitely more pleasant sensation when he heard the door of the front villa open.
He smiled. “Hi there. You must be the new neighbour.”
The guy was even more handsome up close. Olive complexion, dark five o’clock shadow, and perfect white teeth.
“I must be,” replied the man, grinning. “Tassos, but call me Tas. Pleased to meet you.” They shook hands, his grip firm. “You keep your windows very clean.”
“Er, thanks,” said Dane with a twinge of guilt. “It’s actually the first time they’ve been done since I moved in.”
“Oh I hear you. Windows, hey? I’ve been cleaning this place for the past few days. A bit at a time, you know. Don’t want to overdo it.”
“I bet. New place and all. A lot of cleaning.”
“Anyway,” said Tas, checking his mailbox, “I suppose I’d better get back to it.”
“Right you are,” said Dane, none too pleased that their meeting had been so brief.
Tas walked off, then stopped. “Hey,” he said, turning back, “if you’re not too busy, would you like to come in for a cuppa? A quick one?”
“No,” Dane replied. “I mean, no, I’m not too busy.”
It wouldn’t have mattered if he were flat out. Give up the chance to spend more time with his hot neighbour? No way, Jose!
The interior of Tas’s living room was a lesson in sensory overload. The first thing Dane noticed was the strong aroma of incense. Patchouli. Sandalwood. Beautiful. Next, he noticed the intricate tapestries on the walls, the elaborate carpets placed this way and that over the floor. The couches were decorated with exotic fabrics and patchwork cushions of vibrant colours with tiny mirrors stitched into the fabric. A golden Buddha sat at the centre of a small shrine with incense sticks and candles surrounding it. Large potted palms and ferns crowded the areas near the windows and doors, and great swathes of patterned fabric hung from the ceiling, creating the sense of being inside some kind of magical tent that had been plopped in the middle of a tropical jungle.
Almost hidden by everything else was a large cane birdcage with two yellow canaries. The cage seemed rather dramatic, considering what it contained, but that made Dane happy. He had never liked the idea of caged birds, although if they had to be caged, he was glad these two had an enormous space to fly around in.
“You like?” asked Tas.
Dane realised he’d been totally absorbed by his exotic surroundings and nodded. “It’s amazing. Where’d you get all this stuff?”
“Here and there. Come through to the kitchen. I’ll get us something to drink. Do you like fruit juice? Freshly squeezed?”
“Definitely.”
“You have a favourite?”
“Mango,” Dane replied. “Or anything. I don’t mind.”
The kitchen and small dining area were just as impressive as the living room. Mini Buddhas, potted plants, candles, and rich fabrics from mysterious lands adorned every available space. A huge oriental fan hung on the wall near the dining table. It appeared to be an antique, aged in a way that only enhanced its appeal.
“Are you a Buddhist?”
Tas, in the process of slicing up fresh mangoes, shook his head. “Not really. Though I do try to live my life by the Buddhist philosophy. Respect. Gratitude. Kindness.” He plugged in the juicer. “Now things are going to get loud. Sorry.”
The fruit produced two glasses of frothy golden-orange sweetness, a refreshing antidote to a hot summer’s day. It was almost impossible to sip politely.
Tas led them into the living room. “What do you do for a living, Dane?”
“I write textbooks.”
“Interesting.”
Tas sat on the sofa and Dane took the armchair opposite.
“Can be. Mainly it’s a long, slow process. Lots of hard work, but the results are worthwhile. The royalty cheques that roll in every quarter…well, let’s just say they come in very handy.”
“What sort of textbooks?”
“English language. For international students. It’s a pretty big industry and once you get your book into schools and colleges, you’re set. Although, with changing technology, the books become obsolete after a few years, so it’s a constant process. Writing new material. Updating old stuff.” Dane took a sip of juice. “And you?”
“Naturopathy and massage.”
When Tas smiled, his teeth almost glowed against the deep olive complexion of his skin. It also made his eyes twinkle. It was as if the whole action, that particular combination of muscle use, transformed his face in a way that was nothing less than magical.
“Interesting. I’m not sure I know what naturopathy is. Something to do with herbs?”
Tas laughed. “Something like that. But you’ll have to come over for a massage some time. All that sitting and writing isn’t good for your back and neck muscles. Do you play any sport?”
“I go for a jog most mornings. Some swimming in the summer. Just got back from the beach, actually.”
“Pretty fit then. I do yoga. An hour every day without fail. Good for the mind, body, and soul.”
“I’ve always wanted to try yoga. Some of those poses, though…”
Tas finished the last of his juice. “You should. They have classes for different levels. Here…” Tas got up from the sofa and disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding a card. “This is the number for the place I go to. Give Devi a call.”
Dane took the card, his body tingling as his fingers came into contact with Tas’s.
“Thanks. I think I will.” He stood. “Sorry to drink and leave, but I should get going. It was really great to meet you.”
He held out his hand for Tas to shake, though Tas ignored it, choosing instead to gently pull Dane into a hug.
“I probably smell,” he said apologetically. “Sea water and sweat.”
“It’s all natural,” said Tas. “Nothing wrong with natural.”
Nevertheless, Dane couldn’t help feeling a little uncomfortable, and was relieved when the embrace ended.
They made their way to the door, to the outdoors where the air smelt fresher and lighter than the incense-heavy atmosphere inside Tas’s.
“I’m really glad we met,” said Dane. “Thanks for the juice.”
Tas placed a hand on Dane’s shoulder, sending a little ripple of electricity coursing through him, tingling as it spread. “It’s always a pleasure to make a new friend. And don’t forget about that massage.”
It wasn’t likely Dane would do anything of the sort. As he walked up the driveway to his villa, the tingling went south and settled in his groin.
Aksara