Always on the Verge of Something Darker
It had been a day of endless demands.
If today had a neck, Frederick said, I'd wring it.
That bad? Marty said.
That bad.
Phil, Marty said motioning to the bar tender, two more vodka sours.
Here, Frederick said, reaching for his wallet, but Marty stopped him, with a shake of the head and a raised palm open, a gesture of rejection that really was not signaling rejection. You could see that as he turned his open palm slowly towards himself and fanned the fingers down and almost seemed to be signaling come here with his index finger before his hand rested once more on the zinc-top bar, so near Frederick's.
His eyes were as bright as Frederick always remembered them to be.
You trying to get me drunk, Frederick said grinning and with a wink.
That does not look too hard to do, Marty said. What's the matter?
Frederick pressed his lips together and shook his head.
Nothing, he said, nothing that I can even make any sense of. Random things. It goes in and out.
That's a lot to go on, Marty said with a laugh.
Phil set their glasses down in front of them and simultaneously they lifted their glasses, tilted them to each other and drank, enjoying the cold sweet, bitter, icy and pungently sour lemon taste of the vodka on their tongues.
I like the way you look in a suit, Marty said with a determined air of frankness as he put down his glass.
I'm flattered you noticed, Frederick smiled comfortably. I didn't think you did.
I didn't want you to, Marty said, confessing but not embarrassed.
You didn't want me to?
I was afraid.
Of what?
Of you.
Why?
Your power.
Have I ever abused my authority as your supervisor?
Never. But I didn't mean that.
Frederick was silent but looking straight at Marty, waiting.
I could feel the force of your power, Marty said. I don't mean because you were my job supervisor. I mean because you are you.
And that made you afraid?
Yes, Marty nodded.
I made you afraid?
Yes.
Why?
Because, because I'm unable to resist it. So I better keep away from it.
But here you are.
I have accepted it.
Oh.
I throw myself at your feet in complete surrender. I am bound to your will for better or worse.
What do you want? Frederick said.
I want to experience it.
To experience it?
Your power. If you will. What it is like really. Not just to imagine it but to feel it.
To feel what?
The surrender. The moment when I break. The moment when you take possession of me, obliterate my identity and train me to become your slave.
Marty put his hand on Frederick's beautifully tailored shoulder.
Frederick laughed.
What makes you think...?
I don't think, Marty said. I know.
You know.
Yes.
Well, you aren't wrong, Frederick said, as if admitting it.
I know.
Frederick laughed.
But you knew. That I?
You don't hide it.
I did not say you did.
You don't have to. I do.
But not very well.
I don't try hard.
So why haven't I ever caught you glancing at me a moment too long. Ain't I good enough for you?
Frederick took another swallow of the vodka.
You're very good, he said smiling and put his palm on Marty's shoulder.
But answer, Marty insisted with a tease. How come you haven't? He completed the question by waving his hand back and forth between the two of them.
Because I am scrupulously professional.
But now that I no longer work for you?
What would you like?
Finish up and let's go outside.
The clouds overhead were like silk in icy water. They floated slowly in the slowly darkening sky carrying nothing good but thunderstorms.
Aren't you cold? Frederick said.
Nope, Marty said, pulling up the zipper of his leather jacket.
Do you have your motorbike?
Across the street. Come home with me. I'll give you a ride. I have an extra helmet.
I liked that, Marty said, removing his helmet.
The ride? Frederick said.
The way your arms were around my waist, he said teasingly, almost accusingly.
It momentarily confused Frederick.
Ok, Marty laughed seeing his perplexity. Don't grouse. Come in.
Before Frederick could see where Marty had taken him, Marty had taken him in his arms and pressed his lips to his.
Frederick responded without thinking and with his lips caressed Marty's and felt his breath become someone else's and he felt Marty's becoming his own.
He drew back and before he could say anything his gaze was caught and he was trapped.
Once again their lips met and their breaths joined in one stream and they entered into each other with a dizzying frenzy.
I did not know, Frederick began, but Marty put his fingers over his lips.
Unbutton your shirt, he said and take it off slowly, he said removing Frederick's suit jacket himself.
Frederick was very slow to respond, but there was no doubt that he would. It was only that he had entered a different time rhythm from the one that had always driven him. He was living in slow motion and every sensation that touched his skin or passed within his body began to linger and impress itself. Everything was lit up by desire.
The buttons on his shirt undone, his open shirt front showed the tanned and sculpted torso he had spent the last four years constructing, just for this event, to be seen by a man whom he wanted to win, this man whom he had forced himself -- also for those last four years -- not to dream about.
As in a dream he felt himself floating into an evanescence of light, a preponderance of air, the lips of the man he had been made to kiss.
Marty pulled away.
Strip me, he said. Strip me naked. He fell to his feet and began kissing Frederick's shoes and then removed his socks and stroked and kissed his bare feet.
He pulled Frederik's trousers off.
Frederick stood in just a pair of black bikini underwear and Marty could not stop admiring the beauty of his body. It transfixed him, fascinated him, enthralled him.
I worship you, he said.
Frederick smiled.
I know, he said.
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