The Peter & Charlie Trilogy

by Gordon Merrick

  “Anything wrong with that?”

  “I’ve heard it’s difficult to spot. You know I don’t like being in against unfamiliar land at night.”

  “I’ve checked the pilot book. Lights will make it easier to find. The wind’s not going to hold much longer, anyway.”

  “If you say so.”

  Jack lingered a little longer and then went below again. Peter realized that he was still holding Charlie.

  Martha brought them food, looking worried. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Everything’s perfect, except that it’s not going to last much longer,” Charlie assured her.

  Her expression immediately cleared. Relieved of anxiety, she realized what had caused the little wave of distaste she had felt when she had joined them: for the first time, Peter had been holding Charlie. It struck her as inappropriate; it diminished Charlie’s masculinity. She was glad the food gave Peter something else to do with his hands. She sat with them, wearing the bikini that always made Charlie want to undress her so that he could really study her body. Peter made them laugh at his efforts to eat without hurting his mouth.

  The sun was moving down in the west when, as Charlie had expected, the wind began to die. Low-lying land was dimly visible ahead. The sea remained heavy so that they rolled and tossed as progress ceased. Jack came up for a turn on the wheel and Charlie sent Peter below for a nap.

  “I suppose you know where we are,” he said to Jack.

  Jack checked the mileage log and looked ahead. “About fifteen miles west of the canal.”

  “So near and yet so far. Listen Jack, just once, couldn’t we use the goddamn engine? This almost qualifies as getting into harbor. A couple of hours on the motor would get us there. Otherwise, we won’t get through till morning. It’s going to be hell wallowing around out here.”

  “The sea’s bound to calm down soon. Just hold your horses. I’ve been planning to go through in the morning all along.”

  “Jesus! We have to waste twelve hours just so you can follow your plan?”

  “That’s about it. I know it’s hard for you to accept, but this is my boat and when it comes to the motor we do things my way.”

  “Even when it’s the wrong way. God! Wanting to shorten sail the one time we’re really zooming.”

  “I didn’t insist, but there are certain things I will insist about. While we’re on the subject, I won’t have the boat turned into a male brothel. Stay out of Peter’s bunk.”

  “Brothel?” Charlie repeated calmly. “Do you think we pay each other? What’s the matter, Jack? You jealous? Why don’t you offer Peter money? I’d love to see what’s left of you afterward.”

  “Just remember. I’ve warned you.”

  “I see. Well then, let me tell you this. I’ll sleep with Peter whenever I damn well please. I’ve given it some thought and I’ve decided that whatever Peter and I do together can’t hurt anybody else.”

  “Good lord, man, haven’t you any sense of decency?”

  “Does it really upset you so to see two guys sleeping together? Maybe you should see a doctor.”

  “What if I’d come through when you weren’t sleeping?”

  “Do you think we’d let you see us making love? It’s too good for any audience.”

  “Don’t you care what Martha thinks of you?”

  “Why don’t you ask her what she thinks of us? OK? If you get us to hotels in the evening the way you said you would, it won’t be a problem. The bunk’s too narrow to make it a habit, anyway, but any time I want to sleep with my mate, I will. Understood?”

  “Christ! You really think you’re God, don’t you?”

  “No, just a guy who’s learning to get along in the world. You’re the one who made a big thing about my being queer. Well, now you’ve seen me in bed with Peter. God forbid you shouldn’t be able to fit all the little pegs into all the little holes in your mind.”

  “I think we’ve had about enough of this conversation.”

  “Fine. I accept your apology for the brothel bit. If you’re not going to be a good sport and turn on the motor, I might as well get some sleep. Alone, in case you’re consumed by curiosity.” He smiled cheerfully and rose and careened across the deck to the campanionway.

  They were all on deck at daybreak for their passage, under power, through the long, straight, awesome ditch of the canal. By noon, they were tying up in Turkolimino, the yacht harbor near Piraeus. Jack’s navigation had paid off; they had sailed right up to the entrance to the canal even though it was still invisible when they were only a couple of miles from it; they found the small yacht harbor before Charlie had been able to pick out the great port of Piraeus in the jumble of steep, built-up coastline. He had expected the Acropolis to be a conspicuous landmark. He could find no trace of it.

  They were still furling the sails and making the deck shipshape when they received a ceremonial visit from officials who seemed little interested in the ship’s papers but wished to underline the fact that they were the first American yacht in Greek waters since the war. A delegate from the Royal Yacht Club appeared to offer them free use of the club’s facilities during their stay. Jack was beaming. Because the formalities were short, nothing prevented Charlie and Peter from ducking below to dress, put some clothes in a bag and gather up a considerable accumulation of laundry. When they returned to the deck, Martha and Jack were waiting in the cockpit with drinks. They all drank and congratulated themselves on their successful voyage. They were to have two days of independent sight-seeing before setting off into the Aegean. Martha looked at Charlie so longingly that he agreed to come down to the boat at noon the next day and perhaps go on an excursion with the Kingsleys. Peter unabashedly took his hand.

  “Come on, Champ. I’m going to spend all afternoon in a tub.”

  After extensive farewells, Charlie and Peter went ashore and found a battered taxi and told the driver to take them to Athens. Saying the word made a tingle run down Charlie’s spine. He crouched forward at the window, buffeted by blasts of hot air as they clattered over a corrugated road, and continued his search for the Acropolis. When he saw it at last, the Parthenon lying parched and serene on a low hill, he experienced a shock of recognition, as if he had known it always. He sat back and gripped Peter’s hand.

  “My God!” he exclaimed. “There it is. This trip’s really making sense.”

  “I’ll say. We’re home. These people knew what life was all about. Men loved each other and women had children. If things were like that nowadays, even I might be straight.” He still couldn’t move his lips when he laughed.

  As soon as they were alone in a big old-fashioned room in the Grande Bretagne, Peter began to shed his clothes.

  “I’m going to spend an hour in the bathroom. Let’s order some lunch up here. After that—well, guess what. How marvelous of you to ask for a double bed.”

  Charlie hadn’t exactly asked. The clerk had offered them the choice of. twin beds or a double and Charlie had said that a double would do. When he was naked, Peter darted over to him and gave him a quick hug.

  “Damn my mouth. Consider yourself kissed,” he said and went frisking on into the bathroom. Charlie called down for cold lobster and a salad and cold white wine. He went to a long shuttered window and peered out. The Parthenon was there under a blazing sun, the ruin of it looking as if it had been planned with great precision. They were in Athens and they were approaching a moment that he felt he had been preparing for, unconsciously at first, ever since St. Tropez.

  An electric fan on the bureau stirred the still air. He stood in its draft and thoughtfully began to remove his clothes. He had closely observed Peter’s every move for the last two days and he had sensed in him a new, hardy self-assertiveness that he related to the episode with Jean-Claude. That hadn’t been an isolated phenomenon, but the expression of a healthy, emerging need. The fight had solidified it. Something in Peter was struggling free of the domination he had sought from Charlie all these years. Th
e way Peter had told him to order lunch was a detail, but symptomatic. A few weeks ago he would have asked if they could have it in the room. Charlie knew he could use his body to widen Peter’s freedom, and perhaps his own. He didn’t know where this was leading, but he felt sure that it would pave the way for even more crucial developments. Now that the moment was near, he looked forward to it with more excitement than he had expected. He chuckled to himself. What would he be up to next?

  He put on a dressing gown and, when the knock on the door came, admitted their lunch. He was tempted to join Peter in the bathroom, but resisted it. Things might happen and he didn’t want his plan disrupted. He twirled the wine in the ice bucket and waited.

  Peter came out eventually, wearing a towel around his waist. His hair was darkened by water and slicked down. His eye and mouth were no longer disfiguring but curiously provocative, a blemish that underlined his beauty.

  “I’m just about the cleanest friend you’ll ever have,” he announced. “Hey. Lunch. Lobster. Marvelous.”

  Charlie went to him and removed the towel and kissed his neck and ran his hands over his cool skin. “I won’t be long,” he said.

  “No, don’t be, beautiful. I feel as if it’s been months.”

  Charlie shaved and took a quick shower and returned, wearing his dressing gown. Peter was stretched out on the bed wearing his. He sprang up.

  “Bed is sublime. That poor lobster doesn’t know how close he’s come to being completely ignored.”

  They sat at table and ate and laughed together. Peter’s eyes flirted as if they’d just met. Charlie had stopped thinking about his plan; he quite simply wanted him, in exactly the way he had been intending to have him. No wonder everybody’s been tearing him to pieces, he thought.

  “We’re not going to order coffee, are we?” Peter asked when they had picked the lobster clean.

  “Not unless we let the waiter serve us in bed.”

  Peter flashed him a lopsided smile. “I’m about ten times more in love with you than I’ve ever been. I didn’t think it was possible. I’ll go get ready.”

  Charlie put a hand over his. “No. I will. It’s my turn, baby.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. I want you that way.”

  “You what?” Peter looked thunderstruck.

  “Of course. Upside down and sideways. I’ve been thinking about it for days.”

  “But I couldn’t!” Peter expostulated.

  “Why couldn’t you? You have before.”

  “Once. A hundred years ago when I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “You could with Jean-Claude.”

  Peter’s expression immediately became guarded. Perhaps the punishment wasn’t over, after all. “Why do you bring him up?”

  Charlie laughed. “It’s all right, baby. Honest. We can talk about it. We don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “I don’t want to pretend anything if you understand I hate myself for it.”

  “You shouldn’t. I’ll bet you could have with that Greek you beat up, too.”

  Peter stared at him. “You’re spooky. How do you know that? It was sort of a sadistic thing, only for a second, but you’re right. I could have, if I’d really wanted to, if you see what I mean.”

  “Sure. So what’s wrong with me?”

  “But you’re different. You’re you. I’m dying for you to have me the way you always do. It doesn’t make sense any other way.” Peter’s heart was beating fast. He couldn’t believe that Charlie really meant it. They hadn’t had time to talk about the “new phase.” Was this what he had meant? He felt danger as acutely as if he were in a runaway car. “Please, my darling. Please take me. I want you so much.”

  “Same here. It’s taken me ten years, for God’s sake. I want to be had by a prizefighter.” He rose and went around behind Peter and put his hands inside his dressing gown and ran them over his chest and down over his abdomen. Peter shifted slightly in his chair and his sex sprang up from between his legs. Charlie held it with both hands and laughed. “What a fraud. What do you mean, you couldn’t?”

  “It’s not that. I mean—well, I’ll probably come before I even get started.”

  “Then we’ll start all over again.”

  Peter dropped his head back against Charlie and held his arms in place around him with his hands while he tried to assimilate this overwhelming proposal. Could it be as uncomplicated as Charlie was making it sound? A simple desire? Whatever the dangers, he was amazed at his growing urge to perform the act. He wanted to take him. He imagined bearing down into him, compelling the submission of his body, and his heart raced faster. “Oh, God, I’m so excited I can hardly breathe. You really mean it? Do you think I’m long enough to do it the way you do it with me?”

  “Did you do it that way with Jean-Claude?”

  “Of course not. I just—you know, in the time-honored fashion.”

  “That’s the way I want it. I want you to fuck me, baby, and not think about my cock or anything else. Really take me for yourself. I’ll be better than your French boyfriend.”

  “Jesus! Don’t, darling. I’m about to come right now.”

  “Hold everything.” He released Peter and grabbed the table and gave it a shove toward the door. He pushed it into the hall and locked the door and went to the bathroom. When he returned, he was naked. His sex was heavy and extended, not yet erect. Peter had put the chairs back against the wall and was pulling the covers off the bed. Charlie’s eyes followed the curve of his buttocks and his sex began to lift. Peter turned and waited beside the bed, watching the approach of the jutting, heavily swinging, hardening flesh. He reached for it and completed its erection with his hands.

  “Oh, God, I can’t stand not having it. We’re not making any sense.”

  Charlie had some lubricant in his hand and applied it. “We’ve carried on enough about my cock,” he said. “Yours is sensational. You want me, don’t you baby?

  “Want you. Christ! You’re driving me crazy. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

  Charlie laughed. “That’s wonderful. Come on. Rape me. I’m going to be the best fuck you’ve ever had.” He dropped onto the bed, pulling Peter after him by his sex. He lay on his side with his back turned and waited for Peter to move in against him. He guided the sex to him and moved his hips to take it. Peter cried out as he began his entry.

  “I told you. Oh Christ! I’m going to come.”

  “No you’re not, baby. Take a deep breath. Now. Just let me have it. Don’t worry about hurting me. I can take you.” There was a moment of difficulty, but Charlie worked his hips to get them through it and Peter lunged into him. His breath caught at the unfamiliar pain.

  Peter’s chest was heaving and his breath was coming in harsh gasps. “I’m inside you. Oh, Christ. Is it all right?”

  “I’ll say. You’re in charge now. Take me, baby.”

  “Will I ever!” He rolled Charlie over onto his stomach and bit his shoulders as he lifted himself to his knees astride Charlie’s thighs. He straightened and pulled Charlie’s hips to him so that his sex shot deeper into him. Charlie felt the strong grip in his hands and thrilled to it.

  “Yes, baby! Christ, you’re fantastic.” He propped his forehead on his crossed arms and surrendered himself to the hard shaft of flesh that was beginning to drive into him. The pain passed and he was gripped by the excitement in this reversal of roles. Peter’s excitement fed his own. He was taking possession of his body exultantly, using it demandingly for his pleasure. He shuddered with delight as Peter grasped his shoulders and slowly rode into him until he felt that there was no area in him that hadn’t been invaded. He cried out with joy as Peter completed the penetration with a final thrust that locked him between straining thighs. This was a man, reveling in his male prowess. Charlie felt a deep identification with him that went beyond union and became unity. He was so stirred by the power in him that he felt himself approaching orgasm.

  “Christ A
lmighty,” he cried incredulously. “You’re making me come.”

  “Oh, God. Yes. Me too.” Peter’s hands were all over him and then his fingers dug into his hips as he drove into him with long, unsparing strokes. Charlie’s hips lifted to receive him and their bodies moved in frenzied harmony. They laughed and shouted as the tension built up between them.

  “Christ, yes. You’re incredible,” Charlie gasped. “I didn’t know. Oh, please—” He broke off with a great strangled shout as his body was shaken by the spasms of his orgasm.

  Peter flung his arms around him and clung to his back and shouted, and shouted again, and Charlie knew that he was streaming into him. He fell out flat, Peter still clinging to his back, and their bodies leaped and jerked together in the aftermath of orgasm. They lay still at last. Peter made a move to withdraw, but Charlie held him.

  “No. Stay. I like you there.”

  “Really?” Peter’s voice was shallow and spent. “I’ll never understand you. I can’t believe it. You really wanted me to, didn’t you?”

  Charlie chuckled. “That’s the impression I hoped to give.”

  A spurt of laughter broke from Peter. It made his sex leap up. “How marvelous. Next time, I won’t huff and puff so much and be so awkward.”

  “Christ. If that was awkward, you must be something when you’re in form. I wonder who else you’ve been practicing with.”

  Peter’s laughter rang with delight. “Am I really good? Next time, we won’t come so quickly. I wanted it to go on and on.”

  “Jesus. You do—on and on inside me. What a cock. It feels a mile long.” He worked obscure muscles and they both laughed.

  Peter pressed himself against his back. His sex stirred again. “Imagine what yours feels like. Mmm. See what happens just thinking about it.”

  “Oh, Slugger baby. I’m stunned by you. I didn’t know I could feel so much a part of you.” His hand found Peter’s head and he twined his hair around his fingers.

  “Darling. Darling. Charlie darling,” Peter crooned. “Feel what you do to me. I didn’t know it was possible so soon after. Do you really want me to again?”