by A Zukowski
the way you dress, and I like it when you boss me
around. You’re sassy when you do that. I sort of…
like everything about you.”
Chris chuckles and half turns. “Hey, I’m
exhausted. It’s been a long night dealing with that
idiot. I’m going to sleep. Don’t try anything, okay?
Don’t think because of my job I’ll put out for
anyone.”
Alex laughs. “Have I dared to try anything with
you? I don’t think you’re easy. Jeez. What kind of
man do you think I am?”
“You’re as much of a twat as the next man. That’s
what I think.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure you do. Now go to sleep. Good
night, Chris.” He kisses their cheek.
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Chris falls asleep a lot faster than Alex can. Alex
caresses Chris’s soft skin with his fingers as he
listens to their faint snores. Their chests move in
unison to a peaceful silence. He can see Chris’s face
in the dusk, their lips apart, an innocence betraying
them in the dead of night. Much later, Chris’s
presence lulls Alex into a dreamless sleep, the first
night after days of insomnia.
Chris wakes when Alex tries to move, to hide his
unfamiliar arousal.
“Where’s your arm?” they mumble.
“I’ve got work,” Alex tells them apologetically.
“Go and take a shower. I’ll make some breakfast
for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. Why don’t you sleep
in?” Alex pulls on his T-shirt while watching Chris
rub sleep from the corners of their eyes like an
overgrown child waking up to go to school.
“I want to.” They’re already sitting up.
Alex loves the sweet Chris with messy hair and
sleep marks. He grins with affection.
When he comes out of the shower, Chris has
brewed coffee and made some toast. Together, they
bring their breakfast to the table, sit and look at
each other. Smiles dance between them. Alex feels
as though he’s fourteen again and discovering that
he loved Sam. Now, he’s looking at Chris, and
they’re an enigma. They let the fragile bond between
them deepen. Chris breaks the spell by coughing.
“You better eat your breakfast or you’ll be late for
work.” They tilt their head to indicate the food in
front of them.
Alex nods and bites into his toast, washing it
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down with some coffee. “Yeah, my idiot boss will try
to get me fired.”
“He sounds like a piece of work.” Chris tears a
dainty corner off the bread and dips it in their mug.
“What time are you getting off tonight?”
“Not until after six. Eight-to-six shift. It sucks.”
Chris makes a face, their dimples appearing for a
second. “I’m not working tonight. I’ll make some
dinner for us. If you have no plan, that is.”
Alex shakes his head quickly, in case Chris
changes their mind. “No plan. No. It’d be lovely.”
~~~
It comes as a surprise to them both, but whenever
they are not working nights, they end up in the
same bed. They share breakfast and dinner
sometimes, too, and Alex finds Chris cuter by the
day but is afraid to tell them because Chris will
definitely bite his head off.
Alex has come home from work to find Chris still
awake, so he crawls under Chris’s cover and
snuggles up.
Chris giggles. “Stop this, Alex Whale.”
“What’s that?” Alex asks with a smile.
Chris turns on the table lamp, the yellow light
shining on them, creating a halo. For a fleeting
moment, Alex thinks about angels and celestial
beings, like Chris.
“I don’t know. Being needy? Cuddling up every
night? I’m not a cuddler.” Chris pretends to sulk.
Alex laughs. “Who’s the one who holds on to my
arms when they have bad dreams? You like me
being here.”
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“Ha! And vice versa.” The expression on Chris’s
face changes, like a wave calming. “Alex. Have you
been with someone with a dick before?”
Alex shifts a little so he can see Chris more
clearly. “No. I…I’ve ogled plenty of them, though.”
Chris frowns. “Explain yourself.”
Alex rubs the back of his thick neck. “I’ve found
other men attractive, yeah? I’ve never acted on it.”
“Why not?” The turquoise in Chris’s eyes
shimmers in the light. They shift to hover above
Alex. Under that intense gaze, Alex flinches from
the guilt of not having admitted this to anyone.
“I was a famous, successful boxer. What do you
think? They’d have given me hell for it.”
Chris cocks their head to consider Alex. “Hmm.”
“Have you had a boxer punch your face before?”
Alex muses.
“No…been battered, though.”
“Oh.” Alex waits for Chris to elaborate, but they
only look away.
Alex shakes his head. “Imagine making a pass at
the wrong man. I know who I fuck should have
nothing to do with my sport, but the media and the
whole boxing world would have had a field day. Not
everyone’s like you. You don’t ever compromise.
You have your gender thing and you fuck whoever
you like. You can call me a coward.”
“I’m not going to call you names. I dig it’s hard to
be in the closet. But if you’d come out, it would’ve
been so cool for people to know this famous,
bisexual boxing champion exists. Isn’t that the
assumption? A macho man like you can’t be
interested in cocks? That queers are effeminate or
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some shit like that.” Chris’s indigo eyes glimmer in
the dusk.
“I guess so. You think that’s who I am? Bi?” Alex
kisses Chris’s shoulder.
“Seems that way to me, but you don’t have to use
a label if you don’t want to. I don’t go around telling
people that I’m gender-fluid.”
Alex nods, thinking about sexual desires as
natural needs, like air and water. “Okay.”
Chris leans forward, creating an intimacy that
engulfs them both. They touch Alex’s arms, the soft
tips of their long fingers tingling Alex. Chris’s hand
stalls at the dragon tattoo.
“Tell me about them. Tell me your stories.”
“Stories about my tats?”
Chris nods.
Alex points to the intricate dragon on his left
bicep. “That one’s from Hong Kong. Together with
the tiger and panther on my back. I had them done
over a few years. It was one of the things I did enjoy,
apart from boxing. I got to travel to some cool
places.”
“They are pretty distinctive. The tattoo artist must
have been talented,” Chris muses.
“Yeah, I think the three animals are related to the
Triad or some shit. That’s what the tattooist said.”
&nb
sp; Chris smiles. “So, you’d signed yourself up for the
Chinese Triad, huh?”
Alex laughs. “I might have. My fans out in the Far
East loved the ink. That’s good enough for me.”
“I’ve never travelled. I don’t even venture out of
London,” Chris admits with a giggle.
“Would you like to see the world one day?”
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“The world… Are you one of those frivolous
people who plan for the future? I can’t spend my
hard-earned cash on reveries.” Chris pouts.
“Anyway, I’m not sure if the world’s ready for me.”
They dip their head.
“No, it’ll never be ready for you!” Alex kisses
Chris’s forehead. “There’re places I’d love to return
to. I can show you.”
Chris licks their lips. “I’ll check my schedule and
get back to you.”
“You do that.” Alex reads between Chris’s lines as
he tunes in to Chris’s idiosyncrasies. They both have
their insecurities from their past, but Alex used to
think about the future. For a fleeting moment,
Chris’s face is a map of dreams, their emotions
expansive and searching, and Alex understands why
it’s a scary concept to grasp since travelling together
sounds like science fiction right now.
Most of Alex’s right shoulder and bicep are
covered by tribal designs. Chris kisses them, tracing
the lines down with their tongue.
“I had that done in San Diego but the artist has
Polynesian blood. I loved his work.”
Chris touches Alex’s lower stomach. “Alex Blue.”
The name is carved in a joined-up, flowing script
as if Alex has signed the name himself. The one on
his lower back is an ornate sundial with a full wheel
of rays.
Alex traces the contour of Chris’s face. “You’ve
never thought about getting some?”
Chris grins. “I don’t want anything permanent. I
only have my lip and ears pierced.”
“They’re beautiful on you,” Alex says.
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Chris plays with their left nipple. “Maybe here, a
small bar.”
Alex considers the pink tip between Chris’s
fingers and imagines licking the cool metal.
They touch Alex’s left shin—his entire lower leg is
covered by a kaleidoscope of gothic motifs: skulls,
thorns and blackbirds—and then draws along Alex’s
thigh. “Are you going to get any more here?”
“I haven’t thought about more ink in the last few
years. When I was in the ring, they were part of
Blue’s persona, you know? Now I have no one to
stare at them and they’re not plastered on every
tabloid newspaper and sports website. I don’t see
the point.”
“I want to see them.” Chris continues to scroll
along Alex’s skin with their fingertips as if drafting
an atlas of their interest. They lower their eyelids,
the long lashes forming two small crescents over
their eyes, as though they’re shielding themself
from Alex’s gaze. “I love looking at them. At you.”
Chris’s light touch makes Alex’s heart thump fast.
Alex smiles. “Me too. I mean, I like looking at you.”
“Hmm. I suppose you can say you’ve had enough
ink.” Chris’s eyes are drawn to Alex right forearm. “I
know what this is now.”
“Yeah. It was my first.”
He had Sam’s name done when he turned
eighteen. The capital ‘A’ with a Roman font
represents a big Alex in her heart.
How the strongest love for someone can turn to
shit.
Is this infatuation with Chris just a phase? Can
attraction change without warning? What if I’m
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simply not relationship material?
And you think you’re having a relationship with
Chris right now? Alex has no answer to the
questions at all. Who am I kidding? Who’d want a
partner like me? Long-term doesn’t seem to exist in
Chris’s vocabulary, and Alex is a depressed,
disgraced ex-boxer with no future.
Yet Chris burrows underneath Alex’s defences,
deeper and deeper, day by day. Their impression is
already as permanent as the art on his skin.
~~~
The waxing this afternoon was painful as usual.
In the bathroom, Chris gazes at the mirror and her
smooth torso, her fingers traversing the milky skin.
She closes her eyes and remembers Alex’s tattoos
and his low drawl telling intimate stories about
himself. She draws a sketch around her nipples. Am
I someone Alex would fall for? What does he look
like as he comes? Those biceps will stretch, but he’ll
be gentle. He will unravel only at the last minute,
pushing
them
forward,
burying
all
his
reservations. They will move in unison. She
trembles with the imaginary scene.
Chris’s breath has misted up the mirror, like a
shroud of white dust. She can’t always tell who she
is, whether she’s ever happy. She steadies herself
against the basin. Her hand meanders down to her
lower body and she starts to stroke herself,
remembering the power of Alex’s arms and legs. She
imagines those thighs rubbing against hers. She
rests her forehead on the cool mirror surface while
her hand speeds up, pushing herself against the
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porcelain until the sensation explodes like colourful
fireworks.
Chris opens her eyes and stares at her reflection
as her breathing slows.
Afterwards, she returns to her room and picks out
a dress shirt even though she’d prefer something
else today. She has an appointment with a regular
who likes a sharply dressed model in his bed. Two
hours’ work and it’s back to her real life.
Real life. I’ve been doing this for far too long.
There isn’t another life. Her hands stall at the task
of buttoning the shirt. She shakes her head and
summons her butch self, her hidden identity. It’s
not quite happening today.
Dark suit, expensive cologne and no make-up.
She feels naked. Some days Chris is only
pretending, passing between the gender boundaries,
desperate for a comfortable position.
~~~
Chris can do this with his eyes closed. Leon is a
little guy who calls on his services every few weeks.
He’s a gay man in his forties who seems very shy.
He mustn’t have been able to find a partner. Chris
performs as always and makes Leon come. As Chris
gets dressed, Leon watches him, wringing his
hands.
Chris stands and rights himself the best he can.
“Thanks. I’ll see myself out.” He pecks Leon on the
cheek.
“Wait.” Leon brings out a small, gift-wrapped box
from the drawer of his bedside table. “It’s…for you.”
Chris’s eyes fall on his cli
ent’s present.
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Fuckety fuck. “That’s very kind of you, Leon.
Thank you.”
He leans down and pecks Leon again on the
forehead. It’s not the first time a john has expressed
interest in him. He’s had offers of moving in,
becoming exclusive, and declarations of love. Chris
summons up a smile. “You know, it’s awfully kind of
you, but you don’t need to give me anything,
sweetheart.”
Leon fidgets. “Uh. Are you not going to open it?”
He sounds so mild and scared, but this crosses the
line—a thin line barely protecting Chris’s dignity.
“Would you like me to?”
Leon nods.
Chris maintains his smile as he takes off the small
bow and opens the wrapping paper to reveal a bottle
of expensive perfume. Leon asked him a few weeks
ago what he used because it smelled nice.
“That’s very sweet of you.” He wishes he could
reject the present and tell him he would never be
interested in a client. But it’d hurt, and Chris
doesn’t want to break a client’s heart due to a vague
notion of professional courtesy.
Leon glances down. “I was wondering if…if we
could go out.” He looks up, hope rising in his face.
“You know, as friends.”
Chris looks away. He doesn’t know anything
about the john other than that he seems fine. The
sex is vanilla and he’s cordial enough. He lacks the
allure of a certain fallen boxer. Chris does a good
job as always, but he has absolutely no attraction to
Leon.
“I’m sorry. I’m flattered but I don’t date.” He
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smiles apologetically while telling the decent white
lie.
“What do you mean? You won’t date anyone or
just not your clients? Is it me?” A frown develops
between Leon’s brows.
“Leon, come on. We have fun, don’t we?” Chris
puts on a charming face and a big grin to hide how
he feels inside. This conversation is so pointless,
like his life.
It dawns on Leon. “Oh, I get it. You don’t do
anything without getting paid, do you? So, if I pay
you, you’ll go out with me?”
Chris suppresses a sigh. Why does Leon have to
force him into this position?
“Leon, you’re a lovely man. Why would you… No,
I don’t do boyfriend experience. I make a really
lousy partner. Sorry.” Chris is reluctant to use that
line, but Leon gets the hump anyway.
“There! I thought you were different. That
you’re…into me. I was so naïve. So stupid. I guess
