Date: Mon, 14 Aug 2006 22:23:17 +0200 From: Julian Obedient Subject: Prologue The heat had broken. The August night was pleasant. There was a fresh breeze. There had been none during the past few weeks when the soiled air hung windless in the city. Now, it blew quaintly through the ripened foliage. The air was fresh. The young men, not yet in their mid twenties, stood on a stoop before a frosted glass and wrought iron street door. Ben had been feeling Joshua's absence all night and had not been able to get a grip on him. He wanted to speak, but his mind became numb and there was nothing to say. And now they were in front of his brownstone and they would part without, without.... Jones Street was quiet and dark, but it was also familiar and comfortable. They had often stood outside, speaking, holding each other, even kissing -- on the street. But not now. What is it? Joshua said. He was annoyed, but afraid to show it. Still it came out in a metallic edge in his voice. Joshua wanted it to be over. He wanted to say goodnight. He wanted to be by himself. But he knew he'd have to pay a price. Ben was tenacious. He would never let go of him if he did not recognize he was upset about something. But he was always upset about something. I've lost something, Ben said. It didn't sound right, whiney. I feel like I've lost something. Joshua was about to get dizzy. You really must go, Joshua said. He knew what would happen if he asked, What did you lose? You, Ben would answer with pitiful bitterness, cloying, cloying. And that was not what he wanted. What did Ben want? Ben wanted to get him in a headlock and make it impossible for him to break free. And he wanted no part of that. How can you detach like that when all these terrible, painful things are happening? Ben wailed, unable to penetrate Joshua's opacity. Please, stop being melodramatic, Joshua said. You stand there, you who I have given myself to, talking to me like you don't know me, and I'm being melodramatic! Ben replied, placing his hands on Joshua's chest. Why are you doing that? Joshua said, taking Ben's hands by the wrists. Doing what? Ben said teasing. Your fingers on my chest. Do you have to ask? Please, Joshua said. It was a terminal Please. It meant, Enough! Please, Ben heard, the word, and it meant acceptance. He moved closer to Joshua, who had still a hold of his hands, and kissed him. What are you doing? Joshua said pushing him away. You're a stranger, Ben said. It's enough. Good night, Joshua said. He unlocked the door and slipped inside. Don't, he said, putting up his palm as Ben made to follow him into the hallway. Don't follow me. There was icy finality in the tone and Ben felt shame. The door shut, automatically locked. He was gone. Ben stood still. The night was empty. He was inexpressibly aching for Joshua to touch him, for Joshua who was not even there, who had left him to be without his touch. It was stupid to go for a coffee at that hour. But he knew it would not matter, that it might be days before he slept again. The Lodestone was open all night. It was not exclusively a gay place, but pretty much. And no matter what the time, it was always full. It wasn't a big place, but it wasn't a hole in the wall, either. You could get coffee there, but you could also get a beer. Ben took his beer, not coffee, over to an empty table in the corner and sat without a clue about anything, just burdened by a heavy weight. It's not as bad as you think. What? It's not as bad as you think. How do you know what I think? It's obvious. If it's so obvious, go on. Tell me what I'm thinking. That you want somebody to appear out of nowhere and give you a life. Or at least that's what you should be thinking. Why is that? Because you sure as hell can't put one together for yourself. I can't argue with that, Ben said. So let's begin with me telling you what to do, he said taking Ben by the shoulders. Drain your beer and come home with me. Ben liked him. He said he was called Dirk. And if you listened for it, you could hear there was the trace of, the echo of a slightly cockney English accent. Ben did as he was told. The breeze touching his bare arms was welcome. Dirk's arm around his shoulder pulled him close, and Ben had put his right arm round Dirk's waist. It was hard and muscled. Ben felt his strength. A great sense of peaceful wellbeing overcame him. This could be forever and it would never be better. Dirk pressed him close as they walked. Joshua stripped down to his boxer briefs, black, second skin microfiber. Involuntarily, he winked at himself. He ran his hands over his upper, outer thighs and narrowed his eyes and felt a great sense of relief. He exhaled and felt he was newly arrived in a welcoming land, enjoying a fructifying and abundant mother. He took hold of himself and felt the joy of having a cock. But he did not take himself to the place where he wanted to go only with a partner. By himself, it would be a waste. He had to share it with somebody else. But not with Ben anymore, not with Ben. Ben could not share. He had to possess. Ben was like a weight around his neck. When he was with him, and even when he thought about him, he invariably was dragged down and worn out by a terrible feeling of leaden heaviness. He had lain down and was now recumbent on top of his bed covers, staring out the window at the foliage illuminated by a nearby street lamp. He closed his eyes and lost himself pleasantly in the buzz of sleep. Dirk raised an eyebrow and smiled. You are easy boy, aren't you? I guess so, Sir, Ben said, gazing into Dirk's eyes and grinning stupidly. Dirk slowly raised his body pulling himself to Ben's outer edge and then slowly, caressingly slid his way back into him. Ben pressed himself against the penetration. He struggled to break free of the force he felt. He fled from it, wanting to shake himself off, racing down a great and dangerous slope. He was dizzy with the sense that he was flying. His speed ran faster than his body stretched to its thinnest limit could. He fell from a great height and broke himself into a fire-fangled flashing, dissolved entirely, and then slowly he felt himself being reconstituted into flesh. He exhaled deeply and looked into Dirk's face, seeing inside it, being behind it. I love you, he said. Dirk knew it would be that easy. It annoyed, it amused, and it excited him all at once that it was. He smiled. You don't know what you're getting yourself into. Saying this he bent down and touched Ben's lips with his and smiled with full acceptance at the slave lover who lay beneath him. You want to be mastered. Yes. There's a difference between love and mastery. Do you know what it is? I've never thought about it. Perhaps there is none. Joshua could not make out if there were a man leaning against the tree in the distance or if it were a configuration of shadows tricking his imagination. He had kept to himself since last he had seen Ben. He had not even searched prowling the streets for possible one nighters. But it was Indian Summer and he had a nostalgic desire to catch one more summer's evening while he could. It was warm enough, too, to wear his black leather shorts and a tight fitting wife beater that showed his lean sculpted chest to advantage and made his tight little nipples strain against the fabric as if protesting their imprisonment. Hey, you are hot. So are you, Joshua smiled as he beheld a handsome young man, not a shadow, approach him. Then there's only one thing for us to do, the young man smiled, putting his arm around Joshua. With his other he reached out and pointed the index finger at a window near the top of a building across the street. I live over there. [When you write, please enter the story name in the subject slot. Thanks.]