The Peter & Charlie Trilogy

by Gordon Merrick

  “About the baby? My period’s due in eight or nine days. I’ll know before that. Things begin to happen to me. They won’t this time.”

  “That’s plenty of time for Peter.”

  “Why do you think he’ll want it? He’s never given the slightest sign of it.”

  “He’s never had a girl. I think he’s beginning to want one, without even knowing it. You’ll make him love it and you’ll love it, too. He’s so beautiful. I love the way his body works. I can’t wait to see him with you.”

  She knew she had no choice. She could only evaluate the risks and be prepared to seize whatever advantages were offered her. Sharing herself with Peter might dissolve whatever slight possessiveness he might feel for her, permit him to disassociate himself from her completely. Yet she couldn’t understand his giving her his lover unless he too wanted to be free. If he wished to use her as the instrument to break the bond between them, she would willingly submit. He would be free for her. “Do you think you’ll still have sex with Peter after all this?” she asked, careful to make it sound as if it was of no great matter to her.

  “Of course,” he said for the record, but he wasn’t sure of anything. He had always stubbornly insisted to himself that their “unnatural” love was perfectly natural, but it seemed to him at last that the label was applicable, not to the feeling they had for each other but to the acts with which they expressed it. They were endlessly repetitious, leading to nothing. Martha had introduced him to the reproductive rhythm of life, with all its shifts, its promises, its surprises. Her menstrual period had suddenly become a matter of intense interest to him. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he said, putting his hand on hers as it moved up and down on his sex. “None of us do. First, we’ve got to know if you’re pregnant. I wish the child didn’t have to have Jack’s name. Maybe you should come live near us. Who knows? I’m thinking of lots of possibilities. Can you feel what it’s doing to me? We’d better stop this. We don’t have time for more. I told Peter an hour.”

  He dropped his hand but hers gripped him more purposefully. “Let me do it like this. I want to see what it looks like when you come.”

  “Really? Good lord. If you go on like that, it’ll only take a second.” His head fell back and he closed his eyes and she took possession of him. This sterile act had significance when performed by the mother of his child. Her interest was legitimate. There was no reason why she shouldn’t become part of their lives. Some arrangement could be worked out. One of them might even marry her and they could have more children. A child wholly Peter’s. The thought of it brought him immediately to orgasm. His hips lurched up from the deck with the spasms and he felt himself jetting into the air. She continued to stroke him until he began to subside and then he felt the towel on him again. He lifted his head and looked at her.

  “You’re magnificent, like an erupting volcano,” she said. “I know what happens now when you’re inside me. No wonder I’m pregnant. It comes shooting out of you. I won’t do it again. It’s such a waste. But I have to see everything about you.”

  “My bag of tricks is pretty limited. That’s about it.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Off to join the archaeologists. No more of this till Mykonos. We’ve got to keep Jack out of it till you know. After that, it’s up to you.” He rose and left her.

  He found Jack and Peter digging about near the statues Peter had mentioned. Their eyes glittered with acquisitiveness.

  “Look what I’ve found already,” Peter said, holding out an exquisitely carved bird’s head, a swan or a goose or a wild duck. “I know it’s awful to take things like this. It might be the missing link that’ll give the key to a whole epoch, and all that. But if I don’t take it, somebody else will. I don’t see why they don’t do something about it. Look what Jack’s found.”

  Jack had dug clear a portion of a carved slab with a frieze of animals. It was too big to move. “Trust an art dealer to find something he can put in his pocket,” he said.

  Peter conducted Charlie all over the wide hillside site with a proprietary air. Charlie felt the magic in it. The wind roared among the ruined walls. The great seas crashed against nearby islands. The light lay in the air like gold. It was all luminous and windswept and as old as time. He had to make an effort to speak above a whisper. Peter led him down to the row of eerie lions and the great smashed phallus. Vanished gods. He felt the melancholy of loss. He reached out and took Peter’s hand. After a moment, Peter started to pull away.

  “Hey, this is Greece,” Charlie said, holding him. “This is Delos. Men can hold hands here.”

  “I was thinking of Jack.”

  “Who cares about Jack?” They strolled on hand-in-hand.

  Charlie took Peter’s hand again when the three of them were returning to the boat for lunch. It amused him that Jack was probably thinking “Faggot!” about the man who had just fucked his wife.

  Later in the afternoon, Jack proposed that they should all show Martha the site. Charlie glanced meaningfully at Peter and said he would stay on board.

  “I might as well stay with Charlie,” Peter said.

  They watched the couple walk up the beach and drop from sight on the other side of the ridge. They looked into each other’s eyes and smiled.

  “Were you thinking what I was?” Peter asked.

  “What else? Listen, baby, I know you’re having a good time here, but is it all right if we try to get away tonight? Time is passing. We’ve been out almost a month.”

  “Is that all? It seems more like a year. Sure, let’s go. I thought we were waiting for the wind to die.”

  “That might take a year. If we get that lull before dawn, we can make it to Mykonos in no time. We still have a lot to see.”

  “Fine with me. Now about that other matter I had in mind.”

  “A quick swim and then let’s get at it, mate.”

  They dropped their shorts on the deck and dived over the side. Charlie wanted to keep their sex life constant so that when he told Peter about Martha he wouldn’t think that she had intruded on them in any way. He couldn’t take Peter as he had taken Martha, but after his wholly masculine experience with her the thought of reverting to the feminine role he had recently assumed with Peter intrigued and excited him. Peculiar, certainly. Mad, perhaps? He hoped it would all emerge into the coherent plan that seemed at times within his grasp.

  When he suggested over drinks that they should make another try for Mykonos early the next morning, Martha’s eyes widened and she glanced quickly at Peter before her regard returned questioningly to Charlie. Had he told Peter? He shook his head slightly. They all agreed to his suggestion.

  He and Peter stayed on deck through the night, sleeping fitfully while Charlie kept an eye on the weather. He watched as the pattern he had already noted repeated itself. The quiet hour before dawn came. He leaned over and gently roused Peter.

  “OK, baby. Thank God, Jack agreed to let us use the motor till we get around Delos. Get the anchor up. Let’s go.”

  An hour after sunrise, they were tied up in the port of Mykonos and the wind was renewing its relentless attack.

  “We’ll clear off and leave you in peace,” Charlie said when all four were finishing breakfast together.

  “Don’t you want to go sight-seeing later?” Martha asked, her increasingly possessive eyes on his.

  “How long are we going to stay here?” he asked in reply.

  “Let’s decide that tomorrow,” Jack suggested. “This is probably the last civilized place we’ll hit before Crete, where we can get ice and restaurant meals and all that sort of thing. Let’s see what the bloody wind does.”

  “Come back when you’ve found a hotel,” Martha said.

  “I may get some sleep,” Charlie told her. He wanted to hold her off for a bit, work her up, make her long for him and Peter. “We’ll be around.”

  Mykonos turned out to be the most touristic place they’d been to. The hotel was new and modern and c
harmingly set under pine trees above the harbor. Charlie asked for a double bed and when he saw it, his mind was filled with images of Peter and Martha in it. He was deeply excited by the prospect, but he postponed speaking to Peter about it. He wanted another day of the status quo to prove to him that nothing had changed between them.

  When they went the next morning to check in at the boat, they found Jack doing something greasy to the generator in the engine room.

  “Thank heavens. You’ve come to rescue me,” Martha greeted them. He looked into her eyes and saw the urgency of her desire in them. “He’ll be down there for hours. Will you take me up to those windmills? I’m fascinated by them.”

  The island was dotted with windmills, but Martha pointed out a row of three just above and behind the town. One of them wasn’t operating; the other two had their sails out and were spinning as merrily as toys reefed down in the persistent gale.

  “We’ve been meaning to have a look at them. I suspect they’re run by motors,” Charlie said. “You want to go now? Come on.”

  She called down to Jack and they walked back along the quai and through the town and found a road leading up to them. There was a string of donkeys outside one of them and they went to its open door. Their ears were assailed by a great din. A man and a boy were busy inside. When the man saw the three blond foreigners, he motioned them in. They entered and stood beside a great stone wheel whirling in a stone base. Grain was being fed into it on one side and ground flour was spewing into a sack on the other. There was other gear, apparently for lowering and raising the wheel and braking it. Everything was made of stone and carved wood and leather thongs and rope. It looked as if it could have been assembled thousands of years ago; they all gazed at it with wonder. The man singled out Peter as his interlocutor and within a moment the two were having a lively conversation with their hands, pointing at various parts of the mechanism and making explanatory gestures.

  Martha touched Charlie’s hand and moved her eyes to a stairway leading up to a hole in the plank ceiling. She moved toward it and he followed her and they mounted it. It led up to a cramped loft with a steeply pitched roof, so that there was room to stand only in the middle near the spinning central shaft, propelled by an axle that was geared into it and ran out to the long spokes to which the sails were fixed. Again, it was all of wood and leather and rope. Charlie was reminded of the night of the storm. The whole building vibrated with the flailing arms of the wheel and the straining sails. There was an impression of rushing, dangerous movement. Everything was spinning and whirling. The loft was filled with a deafening clatter. Charlie remained in the stairway, his feet and calves showing in the room below. When Martha saw that he had stopped, she crouched in front of him so that their heads were on a level.

  “I had to talk to you,” she said. Her voice was covered by the noise of the working machinery, but he could hear her with surprising clarity. “I’ve been thinking about Peter. I understand what you mean. Do you still want us together?”

  “I haven’t been able to think about anything else. Has Jack said any more about when we leave?”

  “I know he’s not planning to leave today.”

  “Good. You’ve got to come to the hotel. Can you manage that?”

  “I’ve already told him I’d like a night in a hotel to rest and soak in a tub before we go off on more island-hopping.”

  “Smart girl. He won’t want to come with you?”

  “Never. He won’t leave the boat.”

  “Good. Come tonight. We’re in 316. Try to get a room near us.”

  “What does Peter say?”

  “I haven’t said anything to him yet. I will this evening.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to?”

  “He will. When do you think you’ll come?”

  “Jack will expect me to spend the evening with him. About eleven. I’m doing it because you want it and I understand what you mean about being the same person. I couldn’t if I felt I were being unfaithful to you. You know that, don’t you? You’ll have me too?”

  “Of course. Both of us. That’s the point.”

  “I think such unladylike thoughts about you. I haven’t stopped wanting you for a second. I’ve almost told Jack several times.”

  “Unless we decide to cut the trip short, you can’t. Wait till tonight and we—” He felt the stair sag under him. He looked down and saw Peter coming up. He smiled down at him and waited until he was on the step below him. He put his hand on his shoulder. “Martha’s coming down. There’s no room for two. She’s hypnotized by all the things going round.” He turned back to Martha. “Come on. Peter wants to come up.” He gave Peter’s shoulder a little caress as he slipped past him and went down. In a moment, Martha joined him and they smiled and nodded to the miller and went out. They found a wall out of earshot and protected from the wind, but within view of the door and sat and waited for Peter.

  “What were you about to say?” she asked. “Wait till tonight and we’ll what?”

  “Know better what happens next. I want so for Peter to like it. I’d like him to find a girl of his own. Even marry her. It wouldn’t change anything between us. Nothing can. We’ll always be together even if we don’t necessarily live in the same house.”

  “Did you mean it when you said you’d like me to live near you?”

  “Of course. It all depends on Peter. He’ll make you pregnant tonight if I haven’t.”

  “But you have. I know it. I can feel you growing in me.”

  He smiled fondly at her. “I guess you really want it. Well, so do I. I’d love to watch a kid grow up. A boy, naturally. If we wanted him to have a brother, I suppose we could even get married.”

  “I should think you’d stop feeling like an outcast if you were married.”

  “Would you marry me, sweetie?” He laughed incredulously. “That’s what’s so marvelous about all this. We don’t have to rush into anything. We’re not breaking up a happy home. I wouldn’t do anything to make Peter unhappy. There’s no great drama.”

  “Except that I’m in love with you.”

  Charlie sobered, but she didn’t make him feel guilty or defensive. Most women would have made the declaration sound like blackmail. “I know, sweetheart. I must sound sometimes as if I thought you were a machine for making babies. If I didn’t like you so damn much, I never would’ve let this happen. You don’t give me the feeling you’re sorry.”

  “How could I be? I’m with you and I’m in love with you. I’ve had your magnificent body. Your magnificent cock. Let’s face it, I’d do almost anything for it. Has it been getting hard the way it did when we were talking the day before yesterday?”

  “It is now. Wow.” He burst into laughter. “I can’t wait for tonight. Just come to our room as soon as you can.”

  “Will you—”

  Peter appeared at the door with the miller and they shook hands and gesticulated at each other and parted. Charlie rose and met Peter as he approached and linked his arm in his. Peter looked at him with pleased expectancy, but Charlie led him wordlessly to Martha and stood in front of her.

  “You see what I mean?” he asked.

  “Yes. About everything.”

  “What have you two been up to?” Peter asked, looking as if he had missed a joke.

  “I’ve been telling Martha how much I love you.”

  Peter was struck dumb. “What a—” he blurted and could say no more. He felt Charlie’s arm holding him close. He saw Martha’s pretty face smiling up at him.

  “He doesn’t have to say it. It’s plain enough,” she said.

  Peter recovered his voice and uttered a peal of incredulous laughter. “For God’s sake. What is this? All right. I love him. That must be pretty plain, too.”

  “It is.” She rose and took his other arm. “Darling Peter.”

  Charlie moved around beside her and they escorted her back to the boat. Peter sensed that something had happened between them, but he couldn’t imagine what could have pr
ovoked Charlie to such frankness. They had a drink on board and talked of getting away the following night during the lull. Martha remarked casually that she might have a night in a hotel. She paid a great deal of attention to Peter, which he found flattering after the weeks of concentration on Charlie. Puzzling, too. When they left the Kingsleys to have lunch ashore, Peter queried him about the conversation at the windmill, but Charlie spoke as if it had had no particular significance.

  “I felt like saying it. I don’t want to keep it secret any more.”

  “I wish I’d been there. When it comes to you and love, I have a word or two to say myself.”

  Without making a point of it, Charlie arranged that they have dinner a little earlier than usual and when they were finished suggested that they go back to the hotel. “We have things to talk about,” he said.

  “I thought so.” Peter had been aware of a recklessness in him, a mounting restlessness that included him in an air of odd hilarity. Charlie was laughing a lot. The evening promised to be cheerful. “Is it more about what you and Martha were talking about?”

  “Right,” Charlie said with a laugh.

  When they were in the room, Charlie told Peter to undress and did so himself. They stretched out on the double bed together and Charlie propped himself on an elbow. “I like to see all of you when we talk.” He ran a finger along the muscles of his chest and down to his navel and pressed. “Room service,” he said, in reference to an old joke of theirs. They laughed and Peter reached out for his sex. “Well then,” Charlie began. “First of all, it’s happened. Martha and me. Like I said it might.”

  Peter drew his hand away from his sex and lay very still. There was a moment’s silence. “I see,” he said finally. “Are you sure you have to tell me about it?”

  “Of course. That’s it. She’s coming here in a little while.”

  “Where?”

  “Here. To the room. That’s what I have to talk to you about.”

  Peter sat upright and threw his legs over the side of the bed. “This is beginning to sound familiar. You married the girl the last time I had to stay away and leave you alone. What am I supposed to do this time? Take a walk around the block or go get another room?”