“Of course. I understood. Well, what do you think? Can I help out here or shall I take the afternoon boat back?”
“Oh, no. Just a second.” He drank off his coffee and rose and went to the telephone. He asked for Mike’s suite; after a brief wait, he was told that there was no reply. He hung up and told Charlie about finding the pictures.
“You really do have your hands full,” Charlie said.
It was an innocuous remark but Peter caught unfamiliar vibrations between them. Charlie’s habitual manner, aloof, amused, affectionate, was more positive this morning, sharper, more engaged and purposeful. He sensed a coiled-up power in him; it related to another period of their lives, before the children. He was intrigued and stimulated, as if they hadn’t been together for a long time. They disposed of the topics of immediate concern to them—Costa, Jeff, Mike, Dimitri—in a quick lively exchange laced with private levity.
It confirmed what Charlie had known last night: he was right and Martha was wrong. Nothing had changed. Peter seemed a bit nervy and preoccupied; his eyes kept darting to the communicating doors, but that was understandable. “Well, if I’m going to stay,” Charlie said with decision, “I’d better get another room.” He nodded toward the doors. “She’s there?”
“Yes, I took two rooms for appearances’ sake.”
“So they told me downstairs. Very discreet.” He laughed. “For appearances’ sake, we’d better take a double farther down the hall. Judy can entertain you in her suite. I don’t want her to feel that I’m breathing down her neck.”
“Okay. She’s going tomorrow. We’ll go home together. How’s the family?”
“All in order. Little Pete is furious with you. He says Daddy’s not supposed to go away in the summer. There’s nothing like a day without you to remind us that we’re living with the most beautiful guy in the world.”
“Of course you are.” He laughed into Charlie’s eyes and moved over to him and leaned on his shoulder. “I better wake the lady up.”
“Just a second. Have you thought who could tell us how to get in touch with Costa?”
“I’m going to call old Pericles. He knows all the big guns in the Interior Ministry.”
“Of course. He’ll take care of it. I’ll call him. You and Judy can concentrate on Raoul’s pictures.” He noted the alacrity with which pressure was removed from his shoulder.
Peter circled toward the locked doors. “Wonderful. I better get her moving in case Mike calls. After all, it’s her baby.”
“If Mike cooperates, you’ll have the rest of the day to yourselves. I should have Costa clear during the afternoon. Maybe I’d better call somebody and plan an evening.”
Peter returned to his side and laid a hand on the back of his neck. “Don’t be silly. We’ll all do something together. Judy would love it.”
Charlie looked up at him. Peter’s eyes didn’t meet his with quite the directness they had before. He was obviously anxious to bring this tête-à-tête to an end. Natural. Understandable. The girl was only a few feet away; she must be very much on his mind. “She doesn’t want me around. Her last night and everything. Actually, there’re some people I’d like to see. Pantelis and that crowd.” Everything depended on the degree of conviction with which Peter pursued the point. His insisting on spending the evening together would be as suspicious as his letting it drop. He felt the hand slip from his neck and Peter moved away again.
“Really? Well, let’s see how it works out. As for Judy’s last night, I’m sure she’d find it much more memorable with you along than just with me.”
Pretty good. Should he? Shouldn’t he? He rose and turned to Peter who was hovering near the closed doors again.
To Peter, Charlie seemed suddenly to fill the room. He was dressed for the island, in sandals and shorts and a shirt that was only half-buttoned, exposing the froth of blond hair on his chest. His magnificent lover—for a moment he felt their relationship to the exclusion of all else, but he still wanted to avoid any too-intimate contact. He was afraid of failing in the essential responses so long as Judy had a claim on him. She would be gone tomorrow and they would belong to each other again. Meanwhile, he marveled at the impact his presence had on him, undimmed by familiarity. He saw the devilish smile come up in Charlie’s smoky eyes and was struck again by the purpose and power in him today.
“Beautiful,” Charlie said. “You look like the guardian of the temple gates. Is that towel necessary? You were nicely naked when I came in.” He saw what he had been watching for. A shadow crossed Peter’s face, so faint that it was impossible to isolate its origins, perhaps a slight twitch of the eyelids, perhaps an almost imperceptible tightening of the lips, but unmistakable in its significance. Charlie’s decision was made. Something in him contracted and his muscles tensed and pulled him up straighter. Peter was his. He could accept no confusion on that score.
“I’m not wearing it for you, silly,” Peter said with a successful approximation of his usual jauntiness. The shadow had passed.
“Who, then?”
“You don’t expect me to wander around naked all day.” They drifted toward each other, drawn to each other as always, laughing with each other with their eyes.
“No, I suppose not. She probably wouldn’t give you a moment’s peace. Martha’s convinced she’s madly in love with you.”
“Madly is hardly the word. In love, maybe, in the sense that I’m the first man she’s really liked going to bed with. That’s about all it amounts to. That, and liking each other enormously. I really must go wake her up.”
They were close enough so that they could reach out and touch each other. Another shadow crossed Peter’s face, more pronounced because of their proximity, as he made a tentative move to turn. Charlie had never known him to shy away from him in this way. It hurt dangerously. Martha was wrong, but he still felt a need to prove it conclusively. He pulled his shirt out of his shorts and unbuttoned it all the way down and threw it aside. “If I’m going to be dealing with officials, I’d better put some pants on. Come on. Let’s take a shower. I’ll scrub your back.”
“You’re crazy. Honestly. It’s getting late.” Peter’s laughter was exasperated but affectionate. He couldn’t refuse outright. They often took companionable showers together; he liked to have his back scrubbed.
Charlie peeled off the rest of his clothes. “A shower will make you feel better after your wild night. I could do with one, too. That sweaty boat trip. Come on.”
“It’ll have to be quick.” Charlie’s masterful mood overrode all resistance. He pulled off the towel and let Charlie lead him toward the bathroom. Being naked together created an atmosphere of home and ease and contentment.
The lithe, deeply tanned body at his side, although he didn’t let his eyes linger over it, filled him with an impression of beauty that no female body could compete with. He was lifted on a sudden crest of excited high spirits. They slapped at each other playfully and pushed each other into the enormous old-fashioned bathroom and half-wrestled their way to the shower cubicle which was big enough for a basketball team. Peter turned the water on and their eyes and teeth flashed at each other as they splashed about under the spray.
“This is good,” Peter shouted. “We’ve got to hurry. Do my back.” He stepped slightly out of the spray and turned away from him, making a firm and successful effort not to let his eyes wander below Charlie’s waist. This was fine, all easy and loving and happily playful. He felt Charlie’s hands on his shoulders, lathered and sliding firmly over him. Peter’s male ascendancy had been long established, but he still relished moments such as this when he could slip back into a sensual lethargy of passivity, being handled and cared for by his lover. Charlie scrubbed his back vigorously, the way he liked, with one of the squares of toweling hanging in the cubicle. After a few moments, Peter started to move away but a hand strayed caressingly over his buttocks and between his legs and stroked his balls. Peter laughed and again started to draw away, but a restraining hand now gri
pped his shoulder and the other moved back up between his buttocks, lathering him, and a finger entered him so smoothly that for a second he didn’t feel it. Then his body gave a leap and he cried out.
“Hey. That’s not allowed in the YMCA.”
“You’d be surprised.” The finger moved deeper, gently massaging him, making his sex lengthen and begin to lift.
“Jesus, darling. Do you know what you’re doing? Is this for real?”
“I’ll say.”
For proof, Peter felt Charlie’s sex nudging the back of his thighs. He reached back and grasped it. It was slick with lather and swelled into full erection in his hand. “Christ. This. You know what it does to me.”
“You want it, baby?”
“Yes. God, yes. What have we been waiting for all these years?” He thought briefly of Judy and of his male triumphs on her body and then thought was banished by the thrilling prospect of being taken again in this way. His legs felt as if they were buckling under him. He stumbled from the shower without bothering to turn off the water and dropped to his knees on the bathmat, pulling Charlie down behind him. He cried out again as hands gripped his hips and the immense penetration began.
Charlie’s heart pounded against his ribs as he reasserted his mastery over Peter’s body. Forget caution, throw away wiles and stratagems. Let the monumental phallus resume its reign. He exulted in his power and prowess. He had turned himself into a woman? Peter was deliriously in love with a girl? He repeated all the moves that had always made Peter’s body leap and sway in welcome of the massive flesh that was driving into him. He made him laugh and moan and shout. He heard knocking on the connecting doors in the next room and a muffled voice calling, but if Peter heard, he gave no sign. His whole body was writhing in single-minded surrender. Charlie drove them rapidly to a tumultuous climax, accompanied by shouts and laughter, and was toppled by his last triumphant lunge, more ecstatically fulfilled than he had been for years.
They lay crumpled together on the floor, breathing hard, laughing in little spurts, clinging to each other to relieve the strain of the final convulsions of their bodies.
They pulled themselves together and showered again, handling each other, looking at each other gloatingly in the soft aftermath of union. They left the bathroom with their arms around each other and stopped in the middle of the room and held each other and looked into each other’s eyes. Peter shook his head wonderingly.
“Why you think I want girls when you can do that to me, I’ll never know,” he said. “God, we’re good together. Your cock, darling. I didn’t realize how much I’ve longed for it. I’m going to have a word to say about that when we get home.” His body made a little convulsive movement toward his mate.
Charlie pulled him closer with authority. He had countered the immediate threat. The habits of years of caution had been broken and he felt too wonderful to worry about the consequences. Perhaps eventually, they would fit Martha’s description of “two aging men clinging to each other.” Then he would rest. For the moment, his body felt revived and overflowing with potency. His hold over Peter was assured till the next crisis. Looking at him, he had the feeling that there would be no rest for a long time. “You’re so good every way, it’s hard for a guy to make up his mind,” he said with a sly smile.
“Maybe I should go away more often. Come on. We’ve really got to get cracking.” He took Charlie’s hand and led him toward a dressing table where he had left some things the day before. He pushed aside a newspaper and his passport and found his watch. “Yeah. I’m due to meet Jeff downstairs in about twenty minutes. Better get into some clothes. Did I say something about waking Judy?” They were both dressed in a moment. Peter remained barefoot. His shoes were next door.
He was heading for Judy’s room when there was a noise at the hall door, more a thump than a knock. He stopped and looked at it. There was another noise, this time a sort of sliding, scratching sound. He and Charlie glanced at each other and then he went to the door and opened it. Jeff was leaning against the frame. He didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on the floor. Despite his tan, he looked pale and sick.
“Well, hello,” Peter greeted him. “I was just coming down.”
Jeff made no move of recognition. After a moment’s puzzled hesitation, Peter drew him into the room and closed the door. The boy was an object in his hands, lifeless, without will. Was he drunk? He had become a body without the definition of personality. Drugs? Something was very wrong.
“What’s up, for God’s sake? What’s happened?” He glanced at Charlie again and saw that his eyes were fixed on Jeff. He gave the boy a little shake. “Come on. What’s the matter?”
For answer, Jeff lifted his eyes and gazed at him vacantly, unseeingly. Charlie moved in beside them. Peter could see his presence slowly registering in Jeff’s consciousness. The boy turned suddenly and his mouth dropped open as if he were going to cry out, but no sound came. His body swayed and Charlie took his arm and began to lead him toward the bed.
“Something must’ve happened to Mike,” Charlie said over his shoulder to Peter. He stretched Jeff out on the bed and sat beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.
Jeff lay on his back without moving, his eyes closed. “He’s gone,” he said in a hollow voice.
Peter had followed to the foot of the bed. “Mike?” he asked.
Jeff nodded. He pulled his knees up and clutched his head with both hands and began to thrash about convulsively on the bed.
“Take it easy,” Charlie said with a note of command. Jeff immediately straightened his legs and dropped his hands on the pillow and lay still.
“I thought your plane was later,” Peter said.
“It is.” Jeff’s mouth slowly opened and his neck arched and the muscles knotted as if he were going to give vent to a shout or a scream, but he went limp again without having uttered a sound. “He took an earlier one to London or Paris. I don’t know. He sent me out. When I came back, he was gone.”
“He took all his things with him?” Peter asked.
“He made me do things—I can’t—nobody would believe,” Jeff said as if he hadn’t heard the question. “I accepted everything. Why should he——” He scrambled up from the bed, his eyes staring wildly, and made a rush for the door. Peter moved to intercept him. Charlie was on his feet behind him.
“You’re with us now, honey,” Peter said soothingly. “Just let us take care of everything.” Charlie moved in close behind him and put an arm around his shoulder. Jeff immediately swung around and flung his arms around him and buried his head against his shoulder. He began to tremble violently.
“Get him back to bed,” Peter suggested. He nodded toward Judy’s room. “I’ve got to speak to her.” He remained where he was, watching Charlie almost carry Jeff across the room. Their love-making had left him hypersensitive to every movement of Charlie’s body. Was it only by accident that Jeff’s hand hung close to his crotch? The boy had made it quite plain whom he had chosen to comfort him. He realized that the sudden unpleasant tightening of his nerves was jealousy. He hadn’t felt anything like it for so long that it came as a new and unexplored emotion. He was stunned at his reluctance to leave them alone, even though he was only going to the next room. He forced himself to turn as Charlie eased Jeff down onto the bed and went to the connecting doors and unlocked them.
Judy was sitting near the French doors, dressed and reading a magazine. The remains of her breakfast were on a tray beside her. She looked up questioningly as he entered.
“Charlie turned up a little while ago,” he explained, collecting his shoes and socks.
“I thought I heard voices.”
Something about the way she said it made him wonder if she had heard more. Had there been a knock on the door when they were in the bathroom? He had been too carried away to pay attention. “We have Jeff on our hands, too.” He sat near her and pulled a sock on. As he did so, he was aware that the amputation had taken place, quite painlessly. Whatever fragile magic
they had created together had vanished; he would never feel anything like it again. She was a beautiful girl whom he liked enormously, but he couldn’t take his mind off the pair in the next room.
He tried to make his announcement of Mike’s departure sound sufficiently dramatic to maintain some surface continuity in their time together. He couldn’t see that it would help either of them to make it clear that there was nothing left for them to share. After Charlie, it was difficult to imagine spending another night with her, but he would have to work his way through that when the time came.
“We should put in a call to Tim immediately,” he said, standing up in his shoes. “If it doesn’t take too long to get through, we’ll catch him at home. It’s only about five or six in the morning there. I’ll explain to him it wasn’t our fault he slipped through our fingers.”
“What did Charlie come for? Is anything wrong?” she asked with only a shadow remaining of the reserve he had felt in her when he had joined her.
“More about George Leighton’s money. That’s all getting straightened out. The kid’s in a bad way. I want to keep an eye on him. Will you place the call?”
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