“I wanted to let you know right away.” Underneath his casual tone of voice, I thought I detected a slight tension or strain.
“Know what?”
“My unit is being deployed overseas. We just got the word.”
“I see. Where are you being sent to?”
“I’m not really supposed to tell anyone that. But you read the newspapers and watch the telly. You can probably make an educated guess.”
That meant somewhere in the Middle East or possibly Afghanistan. I could feel a sudden tightening inside my chest, as though I was a wearing a too-tight shirt, which restricted my breathing.
“I understand.” I tried to imitate his casual tone, but I could hear myself failing. “And when will you be leaving? Can you at least tell me that?”
“Yes. In less than twenty-four hours, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, shit!” I blurted out, without thinking.
“That’s the first thing I said, when I got the call.” He let out a nervous little titter. “I wish I could have given you more notice.”
“Don’t worry about me. Let’s concentrate on you.” An awful possibility now occurred to me. “I will be able to see you before you go, won’t I?”
“Of course. Listen, I have a few things I have to take care of. But we can get together this evening, if you want to.” If I wanted to! “You know, spend the night together, at your place, if you want to.” That phrase again!
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll see you later then.”
“Yes. What do you want to do? Tonight, I mean?”
“Oh, you decide.”
“No, you decide what you’d like.”
He laughed. “Let’s not waste time arguing about it.” Now he sounded more like the Geoff I knew. “Maybe we could go out to dinner, since this’ll be my last night in London for a while. But nowhere fancy, all right? Other than that, let’s not make any big plans. Let’s just wing it.”
“All right.”
We had exchanged goodbyes and he had rung off, before I realized that he hadn’t told me how long he might be gone. I consoled myself by speculating that it might be…I really couldn’t guess…a month, six weeks maybe two months at the most…plenty of time for him to get into danger.
In a fever of anxiety, I turned on the television and monitored the news programs. None of them provided me with a real clue. Every damned continent on the globe seemed to be experiencing some sort of political turmoil or military crisis. I was a pacifist by nature, but now my pacifism suddenly took on a violent edge. I wished I could take all of the warmongers in the world, line them up against a wall and—well, mow them down with a machine gun.
I took Geoff to one of our favourite places, a neighbourhood pub that served simple, inexpensive, but hearty food. The other patrons were boisterous, as usual and the atmosphere was lively. Geoff and I sat in a booth, well away from the noise of the bar, so we could hear one another talk.
I felt that we were both putting on an act, making a pretence that this was just another evening out on the town. Geoff was making an effort to be jovial and I felt obliged to follow his lead.
“The agency’s been quite decent about my giving them such short notice,” Geoff reported. “Of course, they knew all along I might have to drop everything, pack up and leave, any time. They have a couple of bodybuilder type lads who can fill in for me, on the sessions I’ve already got scheduled.”
“Your regular customers will be disappointed, though.”
“The people at the agency also said they’re sorry to lose me—and that they hope I’ll want to go back working for them, when I get back. That was decent of them.”
“And you’d want to, wouldn’t you?”
“Sure. Although I might not need the extra money. I’m hoping there’ll be a promotion and a rise in my pay grade somewhere along the line during this little junket.” He grinned at me. “In the meanwhile, you’ll have to find yourself a new model. Like I said, there are several nice-looking blokes working for the agency. I can recommend one or two of them to you.”
“Don’t bother. I can’t imagine painting another man. I’d feel like a husband committing adultery.”
“Well, you could always change your luck and hire a female model. Maybe some Rubenesque broad with big tits, wide hips and a nice jiggly fat ass.”
“Um, just the thought is giving me a hard-on.”
“I wouldn’t put that past you, you filthy swine.”
We went back to my place and settled in, about to take up our favourite positions in front of the fireplace. I struck one of the long matches I kept on the mantel, used it to light the fire and tossed the match onto the logs. As I straightened up again, I suddenly mustered the courage to acknowledge the presence of the elephant in the room.
“In all this excitement, I forgot to ask you something,” I said.
Geoff was pouring brandies for us both. “What’s that?”
“How long you think you might be gone. I know you probably haven’t been given an exact timeframe. But maybe you have some general idea.”
“I should think it’ll be ten months, minimum. Maybe as long as twelve.”
Ten months? Twelve? Twelve would be a year! I had been afraid he was going to say three or four, at the most!
I have fainted only once in my life. It was when I was fourteen and I came down with the flu. Feeling wretched, I had gotten out of bed to get myself something to drink, when I swooned dead away, hitting the floor and when I recovered consciousness, feeling astonished to find myself lying there.
Now, when Geoff uttered those words, I thought I was going to faint again. I recognized the symptoms—the sudden giddiness, the sound like rushing wind in my ears, the feeling that my legs refused to support me. I put my hand on the mantelpiece and leaned my weight on it. I didn’t pass out, but instead I blurted out, “I think I forgot something in the kitchen.” I stumbled down the hall and into the kitchen.
There, I leaned against the sink and fought to get my breath and equilibrium back.
Geoff joined me.
“What did you think you forgot?” he asked.
“Oh, I could’ve sworn I left one of the burners on.”
He looked at the stove. The burners were grey and cold. “No, you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t,” I parroted, like an automaton.
I was facing away from him, afraid to turn around and face him, afraid for him to see my face. He came up behind me and put his arms around me. His cheek nuzzled the side of my neck.
“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered, his lips close to my ear, his voice so soft it was barely audible.
“Sure.”
“Try not to take it so hard.”
“I won’t.”
“Liar.” He kissed the nape of my neck and his arms tightened around my torso, hugging me hard.
“Yes, I’m a terrible liar,” I babbled.
“A born prevaricator. Can’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”
“I’d like you to throw me.”
We were talking nonsense, saying the first things that came into our heads, but it didn’t matter. Speech was superfluous at this point. We were communicating by touching one another, by listening to one another’s breathing and that was more eloquent than any words.
Long moments passed before either of us spoke.
“Remember the first time I spent the night here?” he asked.
“I’ll never forget it.”
“Let’s do what we did then. Come have your brandy. I think you could use it. Let’s sit in front of the fire and get drunk, then let’s go upstairs and make love.”
“Yes, let’s.”
Upstairs, we made love—intensely, almost desperately.
Afterward we had another of our before falling asleep conversations. The last one, I realized, that we would have for some time.
“Listen,” Geoff said. “While I’m away�
�while you’re here on your own…I don’t want there to be any of this nonsense of keeping a candle lit in front of a fucking shrine.”
“Huh? You’ve lost me.” By now, I knew Geoff well enough to recognize his various moods. Like a lot of men, he sometimes adopted a brusque mode of speech, in order to disguise his feelings.
“What I’m saying is…I think we should both feel free to see other guys. You’re not under any obligation to be faithful to me.” He inflected the word faithful in a way that made the concept sound distasteful.
“Nor are you under any such obligation to me,” I replied, automatically.
“Precisely. In fact, I think we should both make a point of seeing other guys. Let’s face it—neither of us was cut out to be the celibate type. If we are meant to be together, then screwing around while we’re apart isn’t going to change that.”
Giving each other license to screw around wasn’t exactly my idea of romance. However, I was enough of a realist to understand Geoff’s point of view, and I didn’t want to get into an argument with him on his last night at home.
I saw Geoff off. Ironically, it was the first opportunity I’d had to see him in uniform. He looked very handsome in his camouflage fatigues, with his two stripes on each shoulder and his beret.
* * * *
With Geoff gone, I obsessed about him. I set out the drawings and paintings I had done of him where I could see them and I drew and painted additional images of him from memory. I had no interest in any other model.
When I learned that Sergei had not sold the bronze figurine he’d made of Geoff, I bought it from him. I placed it on a small table beside my favourite armchair. When I sat there reading, I could reach out and use a fingertip to touch the bronze man’s pecs or buttocks or stroke his back or thighs, like a superstitious pagan fondling a talisman.
Geoff had encouraged me not to be celibate while he was gone. I wondered whether he was taking his own advice. I had porn-inspired fantasies of him and his buddies, all of them naked except for berets, dog tags and combat boots, indulging in barracks orgies that would make the ancient Spartans blush.
As the weeks passed, my lust got the better of me and I did go out on the prowl. I had a few brief, intense erotic encounters with like-minded men. None of these men was Geoff, which wasn’t their fault. My body functioned, giving pleasure to my partners and to me, but my deeper emotions did not engage. I enjoyed myself—sheer physical relief, after all, does have its place in the scheme of things—but take my word for it, Dear Reader, that none of these episodes is worth going into in detail here.
It was a different matter when, to my surprise, Geoff himself set me up on a date!
Throughout his deployment, he and I made every effort to stay in touch. It wasn’t always easy, and there were times when it was impossible. Geoff’s letters on paper to me took a long time to arrive because they needed a censor to read them and stamp them approved before they were mailed. There were nerve-wracking periods during which, for security reasons, his ability to send or receive email or phone calls was restricted.
When we were able to make contact, Geoff scrupulously avoided going into detail about where his unit was and what they were doing. We chatted about inconsequential matters—the latest London gossip, the deprivations and annoyances of military life.
During the course of one such phone conversation, Geoff asked me, “By the way, are you seeing anybody right now?” His tone was a little too studiously casual to be entirely convincing.
“No. Unless seeing you in my dreams counts?”
He chuckled. “You’re such a romantic. So you’ve got most of your nights free?”
“Yes, depressingly so.”
“Then I’ve got a favour to ask of you.”
“Anything.”
Geoff told me that one of the younger men in his unit was going home on leave. He’d be flying into London and spending the night there before taking a train to Yorkshire in the morning.
“He doesn’t really know anybody in London,” Geoff explained. “So I thought if you weren’t busy that evening, you might take him out for a drink or even for dinner. You know, give him somebody to talk to for a couple of hours.”
“I’ll be glad to. But tell me some more about this mate of yours. Is he your new boyfriend?”
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just a kid. Not my type.”
“Oh, you prefer them more mature, do you? What am I—a senior citizen?”
“I prefer the jaded artistic type.”
“Most men do,” I boasted. “Anyway, where’s your buddy going to be spending the night?”
“I’ll give him the spare key to my flat. It’s sitting there empty all this while, with the rent still being paid on the first of each month.”
“That’s good of you, Geoff, but I think we can do better than that. Why don’t you tell him he can stay at my place? I’ve got that perfectly good guest room going to waste.”
“I’d hate to put you out.”
“Nonsense. I’d welcome the company. I get lonely here all by myself, without you around.”
“So do I.”
Our conversation turned first sentimental, then amorous, then somewhat lewd. We didn’t actually engage in phone sex, but we came close. If some security officer was listening in to make sure Geoff wasn’t spilling any military secrets, he must’ve gotten an earful.
The upshot was that I agreed to take Geoff’s Royal Marines buddy, whose name was Kevin, under my wing. I was happy to do it. I looked forward to having him as my overnight guest. Meeting a guy who knew Geoff was the next best thing to having Geoff there with me himself.
When the day arrived, I picked Kevin up at the airport. We didn’t have any difficulty recognizing one another. Geoff had shown Kevin my photograph and had sent me one of him, but Kevin would have stood out in the airport anyway, because he was wearing his uniform fatigues and looked every inch the soldier.
He was very good looking in his clean-cut, soldier boy way, but he was younger than my usual type. I estimated his age at no more than twenty-one.
We made small talk during the drive back into the city. I ushered Kevin into the guest room and told him to make himself at home.
“I can’t wait to take a long, hot shower and change into my civilian clothes,” he said.
“Go right ahead. The bathroom’s at the end of the hall. I’ll be downstairs while you get yourself settled. If you need anything, just give me a shout.”
“Thanks.”
“And think about what you’d like to do this evening.”
“You don’t need to entertain me.”
“But I’d like to. I’ve been looking forward to it, as a matter of fact.”
He flashed me a shy, but very sexy smile. “Have you?”
“Of course. Any friend of Geoff’s is a friend of mine, as they say.”
“Too bad any lover of Geoff’s can’t be a lover of mine,” he retorted, with a boldness that took me by surprise.
I returned his smile. “You’ve already got a bed for the night. There’s no need for you to flatter the innkeeper.”
“That wasn’t flattery.”
I decided I’d better leave the room before I let myself get into trouble. “Enjoy your shower.”
Kevin might be young, but he obviously knew the score. I wondered just how much Geoff had told him about our relationship—and what the lad really thought of it. I hoped he didn’t assume I was a jaded artistic type, to use Geoff’s phrase, who was in the habit of seducing soldiers because I had a thing for men in uniform. It would be even worse if Kevin thought I expected him to put out for me in exchange for my hospitality.
I heard the shower running, then stop. In due course, Kevin came bounding down the stairs, transformed by a change into casual clothes from a soldier to the proverbial boy next door. Out of uniform, he looked even younger and more wholesome—dangerously close to jailbait.
“Would you like a drink?” I asked him.
“Yes, please. And I’d like to see some of your pictures, if I may. Geoff told me all about them.”
“Oh, has he? Would you like to see any of them in particular?”
“Yes, all the naked ones of Geoff.”
I had to laugh at his brashness. He was comfortable enough in my company that he felt no need to censor himself, which I liked in another man. With drinks in hand, I gave him a tour of my studio.
“But of course you’ve seen the original in the nude,” I said, slyly. “Geoff, I mean.”
“Only in the showers.”
“Only there?”
“Along with the other men in our unit.”
“That must be exciting. I wouldn’t mind having a chance to paint that.”
He had torn himself away from my mini-gallery devoted to images of Geoff and was looking at some of my other paintings, which depicted subjects that were more prosaic.
“You’re very good,” he declared. “And no, that’s not just flattery, either.”
“Thanks.” I took Kevin out to dinner, then to a gay club, which was supposed to be the place. It was the kind of ambience that I’d rather outgrown, but I thought a guy his age might enjoy. As things turned out, we did have a good time.
As we sipped our drinks and took a visual inventory of the other patrons, I studied my companion, as well. He might have passed for a younger version of me or for my kid brother, had I had one.
Kevin was blond and blue-eyed. His beard stubble was non-existent. I’d noticed this at our first meeting at the airport, because even after many hours on board a plane his clean-shaven facial skin had appeared totally smooth. We’d remained casually dressed for our evening out and now I could see through his T-shirt that he had a firmly built chest, from which the loose cotton hung suspended. He’d mentioned to me earlier that he’d been a champion swimmer back in school, before he’d joined the military and with the pectorals he was displaying, along with the trim waist and firm legs, I could well believe it.
The Blue Cat Page 6