After The Flesh

by Colin Gallant

  “You’re not drinking?” She shouted over the band once their eyes had met.

  Freddy shrugged. This was a grey area he was still discovering. In high school you were cool if you drank. You were cool if you drank, smoked a little pot or did anything considered bad. University was different. Now you drank yourself stupid because it was fun. The whole concept of cool and uncool had become almost arbitrary.

  “Not really,” Freddy tried. He leaned in close so that he did not need to shout quite so loudly. It also gave him an opportunity to smell her perfume. Quite accidently it also allowed him to breach the contact barrier and create a sense of intimacy his casual glance did not tell her. He got away with it because he didn’t realize there was anything wrong about it. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  She smiled warmly, not backing out of their shared space and clinked her can of Pepsi against his. “Tina,” she said in his ear and gestured at herself.

  “Hiya. I’m Freddy.”

  Tina grinned. “Freddy – you don’t hear that very often.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s usually Fred or Fredrick,” she explained. “Just like Jimmy or Timmy. You know what I mean?”

  “I’ve always been a Freddy,” he replied. “It even says so on my birth certificate.”

  Tina thought about it. “I like it,” she decided. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned in close, one open palm touching his chest. “So, if you’re not really into drinking, what are you into?”

  Freddy grinned. Their faces were very close and he was conscious of his cola breath and hers. It didn’t seem to matter. “I’m not sure it would be polite to answer that, Tina,” he replied, his eyes not leaving hers.

  Her squinted look became challenging. She met his intense gaze and did not look away. A slow smile began to creep over her face. “It’s kinda loud in here,” she decided. “You wanna go somewhere and talk?”

  -

  Tina Armstrong introduced him into a world of fetish even he never knew existed. She was into S&M – the leather and whips, chains and handcuffs and just about anything else that would fit into the nondescript cardboard box on the top shelf of her closet. This small-town girl was every inch the sweet little darling you would love to bring home to mom for Thanksgiving. But if you did, you’d want to stay in a motel.

  Three years before, Nancy Hicks opened the windows in Freddy’s little world, showing him how to love. It was not long before he found love – or making love – to be a fragile thing he could not manage. He had forgotten what it was, what it could be. His sex life through high school and into university had been animalistic and uncompromising. It had been no more than fucking; a series of motions aimed only at getting off. When Tina entered his life, she did more than re-open the windows. She blew the fucking roof off.

  The textures, the tastes, the smells of this new world were intoxicating. They felt real. They put flesh on the bones of his pleasure that lingered long after he was spent and sleep began to intrude. Freddy never wanted to leave and Tina never wanted him to go. She was just as insatiable as he was. She wanted him constantly and Freddy soon came to wonder how he had managed so long without her.

  His darker fantasies were still untouched of course. They would always be unless he did something about it. I hoped he would find some happiness with Tina that might make him forget about the rest and for a while I think he did. But I suppose I should have always known the monster could not be suppressed. It would always be there, just beneath the surface.

  -

  A month after they met, they were still going strong. Tina was over at the apartment. It was a Sunday. Early – the dawn light was just beginning to solidify, starting its journey down the bedroom wall. They were still in bed and I knew it was likely they would spend most of the morning there. On Sundays they typically did, alternating between a semi-doze to light conversation, to quick sex and back to a semi-doze again.

  I had worked all night and was in the sack myself. I could hear everything through the thin plaster wall between our bedrooms. As the morning progressed, I too alternated between sleep and wake. I knew Freddy would fill me in on the details later. He always did. Rarely a moment of his life transpired without him giving me something more than the gist of it.

  They made love twice during the night. Tina always called it making love. She put her heart and soul into it and called it making love. Even when Freddy tied her to the headboard and took her viciously and painfully, she called it making love. Spankings and candle wax were making love. She even called anal sex making love. It was a mindset with her. To her all sex meant something and it always would. Even a Sunday morning quickie – especially a Sunday morning quickie – meant something. When Freddy remembered how powerful it could be, he quickly stepped up. He would make love as well. Or he was trying to.

  The sun began to creep in, first a shimmer on the drapes and then a surge of light turning the white walls a pale, electric blue-grey. The shadows faded and she reached for him again. Tina woke him slowly, arousing him with a hand beneath the sheets. Within moments, before his eyes fully opened, she was on him. It lasted only a few minutes but that was all she needed. Tina rolled to her side, panting lightly, with a happy grin on her face. She raked her nails across his chest and laughed happily when he grunted in pain and pleasure.

  Freddy matched her grin and kissed her. “I’m gonna get you for that.”

  “Promise?” She challenged.

  “Always.” He got out of bed and quickly used the washroom.

  Tina waited until he returned instead of calling out down the hall. We had never formally met but I think she knew I was sleeping just then. Despite being completely insatiable, she was still both sweet and considerate. I knew Freddy would soon take her home to meet his mother and he would be on his best behavior. She wouldn’t have to be. Her best behavior was her only behavior.

  “Do you remember my friend Claire Simmins?” She asked him as he climbed back into bed. “You guys met at that party last week.”

  Freddy grunted. He began kissing her drawn up knees, soon parting her legs and working inwards.

  “Don’t,” she tapped the top of his head with a fingertip. “I need a shower.”

  “No you don’t”

  “Sweetie, my pussy stinks.”

  Freddy breathed laughter into her crotch, making her shiver. “I like it.”

  “You’re weird,” Tina replied but she made no further effort to stop him. She adjusted her pillow and reclined into it, hands behind her head while he continued. “I won’t stop you then – unless you want me to try.”

  Freddy ignored her. “You said something about Claire.”

  “Mmm, yeah.”

  He waited for her to go on but she didn’t. Freddy bit her inner thigh just hard enough to get her attention.

  “Ow! Fucker!” But there was pleasure in her voice.

  “Claire,” he reminded her before resuming his task.

  “Sorry. It’s kinda hard to concentrate when you’re doing that.”

  “Should I stop?”

  “No! I’ll focus.”

  “Okay, so what about her?”

  She pushed his head back down. “Less talk, more tongue.”

  Freddy obeyed with a chuckle.

  “You remember how cute she is, right?”

  He mumbled his affirmative.

  “Well, I was thinking maybe she could join us.”

  Freddy paused and glanced up. “You serious?”

  “You just said you think she’s cute. I’ve talked to her and she’s into it.” Tina sighed. “It would be so hot to see the two of you together. I thought you might like to watch the two of us.” A slight flush had crested her cheeks. It might have been the glow of her arousal but more likely it was the result of Freddy’s certainly incredulous look. “If you’re not into it, I’ll understand. It’s just, I want you to be.”

  Freddy nodded. He slid a finger into her while he spoke. “I’m in,” he assured her. “I�
��ve just never had a threesome before. Are you sure you’re okay watching me with another woman?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Tina managed. She rocked her hips against his rigid hand and moaned. A minute later she went rigid herself as her orgasm took hold.

  The morning sun slid down the bedroom wall and pooled on the carpet like electrum. They were still in bed. Freddy was on his back, dozing lightly. Tina lay tight against his side, ear in his shoulder and one finger absently twining in and out of his matt of chest hair.

  “You’re sure you’d be okay with it?” She asked suddenly.

  Drawn up from his doze, Freddy sighed. “I said, yeah.”

  “It’s just,” Tina tried, “a lot of people think they’re good with it until it happens. MMF or FFM – it doesn’t matter. People just get kinda weird afterwards”

  Freddy angled himself so he could look her in the eye. “You’ve done it before I take it?”

  What he read to be a slightly embarrassed smile crept over her face. “Yeah, a couple of times.”

  “Which?”

  “Which, what?”

  “FMM or MFF?”

  Tina sat up. Her hair was a pillow-rumpled mass piled alluringly over her shoulder. Her expression was serious but a challenge hovered in her eyes. It was a grown-up look but the little girl she had once been was not far removed. “Both, Freddy.”

  “You’ve been with two guys?”

  “Yes.”

  “At the same time?”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. More of the little girl emerged. “That is what we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

  Freddy found himself fighting off a grin. His lips squirmed but he could not help it. “I have a hard time picturing you with two guys.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You’re too … I dunno,” he fought to articulate the image. Tina was not trashy and she was not whorish. These were attributes Freddy had somehow come to associate with women who slept with two men. What Tina was, was pretty and clean and educated. When she wanted to, she was quite prim and proper. And Tina could easily be a lipstick lesbian – a bisexual with a boyfriend. Freddy could picture that quite readily. She was just that way.

  She was looking at him, one eyebrow arched. “I’m too … what?”

  Freddy shrugged. He was growing aroused at the very thought of her and this girl, Claire, together. There would be wine of course – a blush or a sparkling fruit wine – and candles. There had to be candles. It could be in a bubble bath or on a bearskin rug. Knowing Tina, it would be perfectly planned.

  With that thought, Freddy realized he knew what he wanted to say. “You’re too polished,” he told her. “I know you can manage naughty – but not dirty.” He winked. “You’re the perfect lover. I’m sure it’s hard enough to get one guy to appreciate it let alone two at the same time.”

  Her lips were pursed, her eyes narrow. This was Tina’s penetrating gaze. She thought it was intimidating. She thought the glint in her eyes was dangerous. She had no idea it actually made her look like she was trying to force a bowel movement.

  Freddy found it annoying. It was one of the few things about her he did find annoying. When she made that face, Freddy had to suppress the urge to strangle her. His rage rose quickly but he could contain it. He found the best way to make her stop was to copy it.

  Tina laughed. “I don’t look like that!” The laughter died and the little girl challenge matured in her eyes. “And I can be dirty if I want to be.”

  Freddy shook his head. “I don’t believe it.” What he could not do – rather what he did not want to do – was picture her with another man – any other man. The rage would return. She was his. I knew without his telling me, another woman joining would be A-okay, but another man would only lead to bloodshed.

  Tina saw none of this. She never suspected it in the slightest. She did however notice the tent growing in Freddy’s sheets. One hand reached beneath the covers and found his erection. She stroked it softly, meticulously – that was the word Freddy was hunting for to describe her, meticulous. “There’s something you need to know about women, Freddy.”

  “Oh?” Freddy closed his eyes. He wanted to be inside her again but knew he would have to be patient. This time she had her own agenda. Briefly he imagined himself as it had been in the woods with Çin that last time and felt the dark lust resurface. His erection grew powerfully hard in Tina’s hand.

  Tina kissed her way down his stomach. With tongue, mouth and hand, she worked his erection confidently and intently with only one goal in mind. In the end she made him stand and ejaculate on her, his seed spraying across her winter-pale skin like blood from an opened vein.

  She giggled as he came on quivering legs. “Every girl can be dirty, Freddy,”

  Tina told him as he looked down at her. “Even the sweetest church-going girl is a whore once in a while.”

  -

  Watching two women have sex – actually seeing it – made every magazine layout and every video pale in comparison. It was like watching an old action movie digitally re-mastered in Dolby Surround. You knew the sights. You knew the sounds. But they had new textures. Those textures blew you away. This thing Tina introduced him to, a world within a world, was awesome.

  Together they had Claire. They had Sonya, a petite brunette they both took psychology with. They picked up girls in the coffee shop or at the library or brought home a number of Tina’s other friends. Tina did most of the picking up. She had a knack for spotting them, what Freddy called lipstick lesbians.

  They didn’t always go trolling. Usually it was just the two of them and Tina’s ever-growing cardboard box of props and toys. Freddy didn’t really need anyone else while he had her. Tina liked being tied up. She liked being spanked and slapped. His dark lust, never far off, was kept in check by her endless fetishes. This dark lust was there – and the monster that possessed it – but with Tina it was on an IV drip and given the occasional light snack to curb its hunger.

  I knew it would not last. Freddy had not killed in more than three years but he had let his rage free on occasion. There was of course the kneecap incident with Angie Cross just before we left Prince William Falls. That was heinous but I began to suspect it was not the worst. I began to believe the monster’s hiatus was over and had been for some time.

  Twice since he met Tina, I heard him come home late – far later than would be typical of him. The first time I lay awake and listened to him. He used the microwave and I could hear plastic rustling in the living room. Later he was in the shower. The rush of water lulled me off to sleep again.

  The second time I woke up was different. Something, a dread curiosity forced me from my bed. I rose and slipped out into the hallway. I found my way through the darkness by the faint glow of a single lamp ahead. The microwave had been used and now I could hear the plastic again. Freddy was in the living room. He lay on a sheet of poly-wrap, the kind used as vapor barrier in construction. He was stark naked. Blood, glistening in the lamplight, was smeared all over his chest and stomach. He was soaked to the elbows in it. His eyes were closed and he was masturbating slowly, making every stroke count as a vicious grin split his lips. The gore ran through his knuckles, pooling between his half-parted thighs in the folds of heavy plastic. The dark fantasy was nearing completion.

  I did not linger to watch him long. I slipped back into my room and feigned sleep until I heard the shower running. Later, once I knew he was asleep, I slipped out again into the living room but no trace remained of the macabre scene I had witnessed. Only the slight, coppery malodor of blood lingered in the air and by morning that would be gone as well.

  A garbage bag was put out by the front door. In it I found a milk jug stained red. I could smell the blood without having to put my face closer. Beneath the jug, folded in with two- or three-days’ worth of bachelor remains – hungry-man and pizza-hut figured prominently – was the plastic sheet and nearly a full roll of paper towel. Freddy had doubled the bag to prevent any leaks and tied it
closed to be taken out in the morning. I resealed it and went back to bed.

  Freddy had said nothing about this to me – he usually did. This came as a complete shock to me. I began to worry he was leading a life separately from the one I knew about, the life he told me about. But as I look back, I began to recall hints I had missed, things about him I had overlooked. Call them moments of darkness in my recollection. There were his evening cruises for one, which had not completely stopped with our departure from home. I watched the news and read the papers. No one was disappearing – at least not according to the news. But in a city this size people did go missing on occasion. The blood had to come from somewhere.

  I didn’t watch Freddy all the time. I could not be with him all the time. There were lapses in his never-ending monologue. There were holes in his stories. That night I lay awake and I listened to the stir of the building around me, its small sounds only audible in the silence of a winter night. I thought about the blood and the silences in his tale. Surely Freddy had not killed again. He would have told me.

  Freddy always told me.

  -

  Darkness, that darkness where the monster lurked, the high places and the corners of his little world – these were his constant companions. They were never far off. From his earliest childhood up into these last few years, Freddy kept the darkness closer than any lover, closer than even me.

  I always fancied myself to be his light. It comforted me on those nights when terror was my blanket. I lamented my failures on those nights, failures like Carrie’s death. I swore I would do better next time. I will be stronger. I will have to be. It kept me going.

  That night as the building groaned and shivered around me in the February cold, I realized something vital. I was not his light. I was not light at all. I was nothing more than a janitor with a fading love for the written word. What light I had could barely sustain me at the best of times. What hope would I have of using it to break the darkness in someone like Freddy Cartwright? I was little more than a ghost flitting around the edges of his little world. I was trapped in there. I could find no safe way out.