Riptide Rentboys

by Heidi Belleau

  We stayed together all night. After we’d coupled for the third time, he turned the lights off and uncovered his face, although he still didn’t let me look at him. It didn’t matter.

  Near morning he fell asleep, one arm flung across his chest, the injured side of him against the duvet and pillow. My eyes were heavy with exhaustion but I couldn’t find rest. Instead, I propped myself up on one elbow and watched the slight rise and fall of his back and shoulders as the dawn sun lightened the room. Very gently, taking care not to wake him, I smoothed a stray lock of his hair into place and planted a soft kiss at the top of his spine.

  Then I lay on my back, stared at the ceiling as it slowly shifted into full view, and waited.

  Sleep must have taken me after all. I woke to noises from downstairs. Despite the curtains, the room was flooded with light and when I reached for the bedside clock, I saw it was past 11 a.m. I should be up, caring for my client, not lounging like an exhausted lover across the duvet. The bed linens were sticky and stiff with semen when I rolled across them, and despite the time, I took a moment to sit on the edge of the bed and remember. The thought of Dan made me smile. In fact, I couldn’t stop smiling, but it wasn’t going to do me any good. I was out of line here and I needed to remember that.

  I stood and stretched until my joints clicked into place. My arsehole felt well-used, but more tingling than sore, and the sensation was a welcome one. Padding to the bathroom, I saw one of my robes was gone and the bath was wet but had been left tidy. I must have been deeply asleep indeed. I turned on the shower and stood underneath just long enough to be presentable for whatever Dan wanted today. Then I grabbed another robe and walked downstairs.

  He was in the kitchen, the kettle about to boil. The robe he’d taken was flung over a chair, but his hoodie was on. He was wearing the trousers he’d worn yesterday, but they weren’t done up.

  “Coffee?” he asked me, and I laughed.

  “You don’t know where I keep things. Sit down and I’ll make it. Would you like anything else? Toast? Cereal? Something cooked?”

  He settled for toast and coffee, and I prepared them in silence, still unable to stop smiling. I needed to try to regain some control.

  “I didn’t think it would be like this,” Dan said, apropos of nothing. “I mean I didn’t think you would be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged, a dismissive gesture, but his face was soft. What I could see of it. “I thought you’d be hard, but you’re not, are you?”

  I swallowed. Put fresh bread in the toast-rack and added more to cook. Then I laid the toast and our two coffees on the table and sat down at a right angle to him. On what I supposed he would call his good side.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not.”

  “So why do you do this?” he said, and I could tell he was blushing. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. Just forget I asked. It’s just that last night I did stuff . . . and . . . though if this is what you do, I suppose . . .”

  I put my fingers on his arm as he floundered. Some of his words broke the spell I’d been drifting through since I woke, and some of them only twisted it deeper.

  “Please,” I said. “It’s all right. I do this because I enjoy it and I do it well. But believe me when I say last night was different, Dan. You mustn’t think it wasn’t.”

  I stopped speaking and stared at my kitchen. I wanted to say more, but it would be beyond stupid. Anyway, I’d thought I’d fallen in love with clients before, though never so quickly. Why would I risk everything I’d built up over the years, not to mention upset Max? I had to shake off the spell that had somehow wrapped around me last night, so I gazed round at my beautiful bespoke tiling, state-of-the-art cooker and American fridge freezer. As much light-coloured wood as I could manage. Oh yes, I knew how to live well and made enough from my profession to finance it too, even with Max’s cut. Which he deserved, no question, and I would do well to remember the means by which I maintained my chosen lifestyle.

  I coughed and withdrew my hand from Dan’s arm. Instead, I took a gulp of coffee, its heat almost burning my tongue, and sat back and laughed. “Of course, every client is different. That’s part of why I enjoy what I do so much. I hope you had fun too. I think you did, didn’t you?”

  His whole body stiffened, a shadow darkening his skin for a moment before passing. But not all of it, not all.

  “What do you mean?”

  He looked at me, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. It was impossible.

  “We both enjoyed ourselves, and I’m very pleased Max suggested I meet up with you. That’s what I mean.”

  I felt the intensity of his eyes on me and my lies, and then he grabbed a slice of toast and buttered it fiercely. I wanted to stop his wild movements but didn’t know how. There was nothing else I could say to him.

  “Sure,” he said. “I was just asking, that’s all.”

  We ate in silence. Something had happened last night that I had no idea what to do about, except that I should do nothing. God, hadn’t Max said over and over again how I needed to keep a professional distance? He’d more than drummed it into me, especially when I was new to all this and had thought myself in love with a client or two. He’d helped me move forward then, get things in perspective. Max said it was good to have an emotional connection with the men I was intimate with. That was part of my allure; I was a companion, not a whore. But anything more than friendship was treading on fragile ground.

  I understood the give and take, the push and pull between me and those I entertained. I knew it so very well that somehow I’d dropped my guard and Dan, of all people, had gotten to me in ways I’d never expected. Not love. I had no truck with love. But, if I let it, this could be dangerous for me.

  When he’d finished eating, Dan stood up and made to take his crockery to the sink.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I’ll put them in the dishwasher.”

  “No,” he mumbled. “Please, I can do it.”

  So I watched as he loaded the dishwasher, taking my plate and mug as well as his own. There were a thousand things I ought to be doing right now. Kissing him, stroking him, seeing if he wanted more or if he wanted to talk. He was my bloody client and I was letting him struggle through whatever this was entirely on his own. But no power on earth could have made me stop watching him. My heart was beating fast and I couldn’t seem to ease the dryness in my throat.

  “Shall I go now?” he said finally, when there was nothing more to be done in my kitchen.

  I looked him fully in the eyes for the first time that morning.

  “I think you need to, Dan,” I whispered. “Yes, I think you should go.”

  I saw him swallow. Without a word, he turned round and padded out of the kitchen towards the front door. I followed him, the coffee tasting stale in my mouth and my hands shaking. I felt a thousand times a fool. At the door, he hesitated.

  “I don’t know what’s happening here,” he said, staring at the wall as if the answers were written there. I wished they were. “Maybe I’m not experienced enough to know. But if the accident has taught me anything, it’s to say things now rather than later. Because something is happening, isn’t it?”

  There was nothing I could say. It was best for both of us if he walked away and didn’t come back. I had nothing for him. Nothing at all. But, for a long moment, I felt as if I were standing on the edge of the world and, whichever way I moved, everything afterwards would be different.

  Then something changed in his face. The side of it I could see. He took a couple of paces so he was right in front of me. Without warning, his hand snaked out and took hold of my chin, keeping me in place. I couldn’t have moved away, even if I’d wanted to.

  He shook me. Gently, as if he wanted to make sure he had my full attention. He didn’t have to worry about that.

  “I won’t always be as young as I seem,” he said, blinking rapidly. “And neither will you.”

  Then, with his other hand
, he pulled down his hoodie. I gasped, I couldn’t help it, but he didn’t let go. His face where the fire had ruined it was puckered and ridged like a ploughed field, the lines arcing over his skin. It was like seeing an image of someone in a shattered mirror whose pieces could never be put together again. It was made worse, somehow, by the contrast with the other side of his face, where his beauty remained.

  I found I was crying.

  Dan stared at me, questions filling his eyes, but I could answer none of them. Instead I reached out, my fingers hovering next to his injuries.

  “Is . . . is it all right if I touch you?” I asked, my voice so weak it might have been lost in the morning’s silence.

  I saw him swallow. Then he nodded.

  Being careful not to hurt him, I traced the scars on his face with the very edge of my fingers. I took my time, giving his ugliness the same level of attention I’d given his beauty last night, so after a while neither the ugliness nor the beauty mattered but only the fact that it was him.

  I worked my way upwards from his jawline to where the injuries extended on his forehead. I didn’t know why, but it seemed the right way to do this. When I reached his eye, I noted it was half-closed.

  “Can you see?” I whispered.

  His lips quirked. “Yes, a little out of that one. But it’s not as good.”

  I thought he might say more, but he didn’t. I finished my exploration and then stroked my fingers across where his eyebrow should have been before easing away.

  Though we weren’t having sex or even kissing, this was the closest I’d ever been to anyone.

  “Dan,” I said, feeling his name like a pebble where it danced across my tongue. “My name. It’s Bill. Adrian was my brother. I’m alone now.”

  “Yeah,” he murmured as if he’d always known, though that wasn’t possible. “I’m sorry.”

  Then he moved, and I blinked, understanding he was leaving. It was the right thing to do.

  At the door, he paused again.

  “The thing is,” he said softly, “the thing is, you’ve seen where I hurt most, and I want to see where you hurt most too. Because maybe that’s what matters. For me, it’s the outside, and I know I’ll never look the way I did before. Where is it for you, Bill?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t understand what he meant. He half turned his head towards me, the scarred side, and I knew he was waiting. But I could neither move nor think. A few moments passed before he replaced his hoodie to conceal himself again, and then he was gone.

  For the first time in my life, I’d lost control and let a client master me.

  A month, maybe six weeks went by. Dan didn’t come back and I didn’t expect him to, though for two or three Sundays I waited as if he might. The summer stretched out and I recovered my senses and my routine, concentrating on clients until the image of the injured young man I’d met only twice knocked less insistently at my mind.

  One Sunday afternoon, at the tail-end of August, Max visited me. Of course he’d been to see me since I’d been with Dan, but only regarding professional matters. He hadn’t mentioned Dan or asked about what had happened, for which I was more than grateful. I couldn’t think of an answer for him.

  But this visit was different. When I let him in, he simply nodded at me and strolled through to the living room. I could feel the shadows shifting between us and didn’t know how to interpret them. Falling back on what I did know, I offered him a drink and something to eat, but he shook his head and sat down.

  “No, thank you.” He gestured at the chair opposite him, “Please, sit.”

  I obeyed, and waited.

  He didn’t speak for a while, and then coughed and caught my gaze. “Something happened with Dan, didn’t it?”

  Stupidly, I tried to laugh it off. “Yes, of course it did. I enjoyed meeting him. We got along fine in the end. We had a good night together, though—”

  “Stop it.” Max slammed his hand on the coffee table and brought my ridiculous speech to a halt. “It’s not what I mean and you know it. I didn’t think you were fool enough to lie to me, Adrian, but because I respect you and your decisions I’m giving you a second chance. So, tell me. What happened that night?”

  I took a breath, closed my eyes, and explained to him, as far as I could, how different it had been. I even told him how I’d seen Dan’s face, but not how I’d touched it, nor what we had said before Dan left. That was too private.

  When I finished, I opened my eyes. He leant forward, hands clenched together.

  “You saw Dan’s face,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “He’s not allowed anyone in the family to see it. He covers it up always.”

  I couldn’t tell if Max was happy or angry at the state of affairs. “I’m not family.”

  “No,” he said. “No, you’re not. That much is true.”

  “I haven’t lied to you, not this time. I swear it.”

  He held up one hand to stop me. “I’m not accusing you. It’s okay. Really.”

  I realised at the same time that Max was frowning and my face was wet. I had to stop thinking of Dan. It was foolish and did nobody any good, least of all me. Something soft and white was pressed into my fingers. Max’s handkerchief. I used it to wipe the tears away. It smelt of his cologne, spicy and warm. And suddenly I wanted to give him something else, some other kind of explanation of how I felt.

  “I told him my name,” I said. “Just before he left.”

  And then I wept again.

  Max held me until I’d finished. It took longer than I’d hoped, but I wasn’t a man who cried often. I thought I’d outgrown it.

  When I stopped shaking, Max let me go and walked back to the seat opposite. He sat down, sighed deeply, and spread his legs.

  “Dan’s been different,” he said, catching my gaze and not letting it go. “Since the night he was here. He still doesn’t let us see his face, but I’ve watched him. Sometimes when he’s outside, in the park, on the street, wherever he’s going, he takes that hoodie off and doesn’t turn aside when people are near him.”

  “What do they do?” I interrupted—couldn’t help but ask something, though the question I wanted to ask was, Do they hurt him?

  Max shrugged. “People do what they do. Some are good and some are not. You of all men should know that.”

  I nodded. I did know it. What it meant when it came to Dan was another question entirely, but Max had already moved on.

  “At first,” he continued, “the sight of it gave me nothing but hope, and of course it still does. It would be beyond joyful for Dan to come to terms with what he is now and to live his life as it should be lived. But the difference concerned me too, as there had to be a reason for it. So I thought about what or who had made the change, and the only person I could think of was you.”

  “Yes.” Nothing else I could say. No excuses.

  Max stared at me for another long moment before looking away, down at his hands.

  “So,” he said. “You have to make a decision, Adrian. I’m a practical man and I run a lucrative business fairly, but the last thing I want is for a member of my family to be hurt by a relationship, of whatever nature, with one of my escorts. I’m not talking about business relationships here, and I also understand perfectly well that everyone falls in love once in a while, but—”

  “It’s not love,” I interrupted, too quickly. “It’s never been that, it’s too fast, but it’s . . . something.”

  He gave me a cool, assessing look. “As you wish, but I’m no fool. I’ve made my fortune by seeing what others choose not to, but as you wish. So if you want, I can help you get over this before it really begins. Doing so would protect Dan and help refocus your mind on what, in the end, you’re so very good at.”

  He gestured at his crotch and I could see the outline of his hardness against the material.

  “Or,” he said, “you can leave and take your chances. Because I can’t afford to manage any escort whose mind is elsewhere. You may no
t think it’s been showing, professionally, but believe me, it has, and it will only get worse unless something is done. You can’t have both the things you want, my friend.”

  He left the offer, or warning, hanging in the air between us as I gazed at him and swallowed. And, God help me, I could see the logic of it. A deep part of me longed to stay here, where everything was familiar, where my life was good. All I had to do was get on my knees, undo Max’s trousers, take his long, beautiful cock into my mouth and let him bring me back to safety, ground me. Such an easy act to perform.

  But I couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want it, but everything’s changed.”

  So slowly I hardly noticed the movement, Max brought his legs together again and sighed. He flicked an imaginary speck of dirt from his trousers and nodded.

  “There are some things, I suppose,” he said, “that even I can’t stand against. You have enough money for a while?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  There seemed to be no more to say. Max rose to his feet, and I followed suit. I didn’t know whether I should shake his hand or not, but he didn’t offer, and in the end he simply walked out of the living room and down the hallway.

  “You’ll try to see Dan?” he asked. “It may not work if you do. People move on, more quickly than you’d think.”

  How well I knew it. I took a deep breath, trying to imagine how it would be if I didn’t at least make the attempt, and couldn’t. “Yes, I think I have to. No matter what.”

  A slight hitch of breath from Max. I reached out to touch his face and felt the heat of his skin under my fingers.

  “You could lose it all,” he said. “Do you understand? The life you’ve had, all the experiences, the good things you’ve enjoyed. If what you so desperately want happens, there’s no way back for you, Adrian. Because Dan, if I know him at all, would never agree to it.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I know.”

  He opened the door. The warm air flowed in around us.

  “However, if it doesn’t work out,” Max said softly, taking my hand and kissing it, “there’s always a place in my business for you. You know that. But for both your sakes, I can’t help hoping it does.”