Top Mark (short)

By Graeme Aitken

Meet 'the Marks'.

It was strange at first for Mark, dating a guy with the same first name as him. But 'the Marks' developed nicknames for each other. Mark became ‘Top Mark’, a sly nod to his role in the bedroom.

But after seven years together, Mark hasn’t had much opportunity to be on top lately. There have been a lot of conversations avoided, unexplained absences, and some very unsettling phone calls.

From the author of the very popular Sydney based novels Vanity Fierce and The Indignities, comes this new e-book short. In his trademark sexy style, Graeme Aitken explores the intricacies of a modern gay relationship with wit, insight and empathy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Graeme Aitken
• Release date: Mar 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9780987329301

Graeme Aitken

Graeme Aitken is best known for his two previous bestselling novels '50 Ways of Saying Fabulous' and 'Vanity Fierce, published by Random House Australia and by Hodder Headline in the UK. '50 Ways of Saying Fabulous' was adapted into a feature film in New Zealand and was an official selection for the 2005 Toronto International Film Festival. It also became a popular hit on the queer film festival circuit. Most recently Graeme has been writing and self-publishing his own e-books (‘The Indignities’ series and ‘Top Mark’). In addition to his work as an author, Graeme has also worked as the manager of Sydney’s specialist LGBT bookshop for the past 23 years. There are now only a handful of these shops left in the world. With all this experience, he is an Australian authority on LGBT books/writing and he edited 'The Penguin Book of Gay Australian Writing' in 2002. Graeme is also extremely knowledgeable about publishing (he has experience with all facets – mainstream, small press, and indie self-publishing) and the current state of the publishing/bookselling industry. Graeme likes to share topical information about writing, GLBT literature, books, publishing, and bookselling on social media.

Book preview

1

We always used to say that it was a laugh, being boyfriends and having the same name.

Mark and Mark. Strange at first – it took some getting used to – but fun in a quirky way. ‘Hi, we’re the Marks.’ It made things so symmetrical. I liked to think it was a sign that we were meant for one another. Though to be honest I could never get used to calling him Mark. It startled me slightly whenever I said it aloud. After a while we developed pet names for each other. I started calling him Marx, though not because of his politics. I’ve forgotten exactly how I came up with that name – we’ve been together more than seven years and memories tend to get slightly scrambled. It’s only at times like tonight, when I’m forced to pause and reflect, that I recall little things like this – our nicknames for one another – and start to wonder. Marx.

Perhaps it was his appearance when we first met. He had this leftie student look, long hair and John Lennon glasses. Rather than detracting, those glasses accentuated his eyes. Made his gaze seem very earnest, intensely grave. But there was something else expressed in his eyes, something unmistakably alluring – a willingness, a sweet natured obedience, which was enormously erotic. Marx had fuck-me eyes.

Back then he was kind of revolutionary in bed so maybe that was also part of the inspiration for his nickname.

He christened me ‘Top Mark’ or ‘Tops’ for short, a sly reference to the fact that in our relationship it’s me who usually does the fucking. Though it’s been months and months since I last fucked Marx …

Even so, he still calls me Tops. I like it. I smile to myself when I hear it.

The only situation where it ever got confusing having the same name was with phone calls. If someone phoned and asked for Mark, whichever of us answered would simply play along and chat for the hell of it, regardless of who the call was actually for. That hasn’t happened lately, which must be why I feel so unsettled, because I’ve been mistaken for Marx three times tonight.

The first time, I was at home alone, wondering what to do about dinner and if I should include Marx in whatever I decided, when the landline rang. I assumed it was him, ringing to tell me