Spanking Dee-Dee

by Fabian Black

  “This is comfy, Simon.” He pushed his hands into the robe pockets. “I’ll have to get me one.”

  I held up the bottle of wine I’d just opened. “Red okay?”

  “I love red wine.” He glanced around the kitchen, taking in the table I’d set and the pans bubbling on the hob. “This is nice. You’re being incredibly generous.” He looked down at his feet, wiggling his toes, which were long and slender. “Are you sure I’m not imposing on you? I’d hate to think I was putting you out. I shouldn’t have said about the bins. It wasn’t a way of emotionally blackmailing a free meal out of you.”

  “You’re not imposing. It’s nice to have company. Here,” I held out the bottle, “put this on the table and get out a couple of glasses. You’ll find some in the small cupboard over there. Dinner won’t be long. I hope you’re not a veggie and you like chilli con carne.”

  “Never had it, but I’m sure I will. It smells good.” He walked over to the cupboard I’d indicated to get out the glasses.

  “Never had chilli! Where have you been, man? What sort of thing do you eat when you’re not eating other people’s rubbish?”

  “Pizza, salad, sandwiches, fruit, cereal, tinned soup, that kind of thing.” He set the glasses on the table. “My uncle didn’t have much of an appetite. He lived on tea and cakes interspersed with an omelette from time to time, so I never really got the cooking bug. Do you want me to do anything?”

  “Everything’s in hand, so why don’t you sit down.” I took the lid off the rice pan. “This needs a few more minutes and then we can eat.” I glanced over my shoulder at him and winked. “There’ll be plenty for you to do afterwards. You’re washing up.”

  “Least I can do.” Instead of sitting he began to wander around the kitchen. “When I get my boiler and washer fixed and the power back on you can come and use my shower and do your laundry to make up for me using yours, and I’ll make you a meal, pizza, salad and red wine. Then we’ll be quits.”

  “There’s no need, you don’t owe me anything. I’m just being a good neighbour.”

  “Who are they, Si?” He stopped in his meandering to point at a photograph in a magnetic frame on the fridge.

  “My mother with my sister Joanne.”

  “They look nice. Do you have any more brothers or sisters?”

  “No, just Jo. She got engaged last month.”

  “To a man?”

  “Yeah,” I laughed, “to a man. I’m the only gay in the family.”

  “Is this her boyfriend?” He pointed at another photo. “He looks a bit older than her. What’s his name?”

  “Pete, but that isn’t him. You have to pin Pete down to get a picture of him. He hates having his photo taken. That’s James, a friend of mine.”

  “He looks smart, like he’s at a wedding. He’s wearing one of those caveat things.”

  “I think you mean a cravat.” I cringed as my teacher’s correctional instincts escaped. “A caveat is a legal term for a warning. It comes from the Latin word for beware.”

  “Oops.” He gave one of his rich throaty laughs. “Having a beware notice around your neck wouldn’t go down well at a wedding would it, people would think you were trying to put the mockers on things. Whose wedding was it?”

  “His own. He and his boyfriend Kye tied the civil knot earlier this year after a whirlwind romance.”

  “Really?” His dreamy swam came into view. “Was it love at first sight?”

  “Yeah,” I shrugged, “something like that.”

  “Why isn’t Kye on the photo?”

  “I have a stack of photos I haven’t had time to sort and frame yet. I’ll get around to it eventually.”

  “Was the wedding nice, was it romantic, did they have a cake, champagne and flowers?”

  “You are such a girl,” I teased.

  He responded with a grin and a camp and very TOWIE “Shuuuuut uuup!”

  “I can’t believe you watch that Essex dramality rubbish.”

  “You must watch the programme too, if you know the catch phrases.”

  “I only know because I’ve been told about them.”

  “Do I detect a note of snobbish disdain?”

  “Absolutely.” I lifted the lid on the rice pan. All the water had been absorbed. “The rice is ready. Sit down, Dee. Pour the wine while I dish up.”

  After glugging wine into both glasses he picked one up and took a sip. “Mmm, haven’t had a drink in ages and this is lovely stuff. I usually buy the cheap plonk variety. It’s okay, but not as nice as this. Bet it cost a bit.”

  “I’m a member of a wine club. You get good discounts for buying by the case.” I set a plate of chilli and rice in front of him. “Enjoy.”

  “Bon appétit.” He ate a mouthful and then gave me a thumb up by way of approval. “I like it, spicy, but not too hot.”

  He tucked in, clearing half his plate before speaking again.

  “You know a lot about me, probably too much, but I know next to nothing about you apart from your age and the fact you’re gay.”

  “You know I have a mother and a sister who’s engaged to be married. There’s not much else to know. I’m a teacher by profession.”

  “A teacher.” He looked interested. “So you’ll know something about the importance of discipline. How do you keep your students in order?”

  “My students are at an age where they pretty much keep themselves in order. I teach maths as a main subject and also a bit of design technology to sixth formers, sixteen to nineteen year olds in the main.”

  “I’ve never been good at maths. What do you mean by design technology?”

  “It’s a fancy modern umbrella term for a variety of practical subjects, in my case, woodwork. I teach kids how to use design programmes. We don’t do as much actual hands on woodwork as I’d like, but I still enjoy it. I’m hoping to persuade the college powers to let me run proper old-fashioned woodwork classes out of term time using the college facilities.”

  “What about your dad?” He made a swift turn of subject.

  “What about him?”

  “Where is he? You have a picture of your mother and sister on your fridge, but not of your dad.”

  “Walked when I was eight. Never seen him since, not even a birthday card, so I get what you said about your mother not sending you one.”

  “Sorry. It must have been tough, him leaving.”

  “It was a long time ago. I’m over it now.”

  “At least you had a dad for a while. His name will be on your birth certificate. My birth certificate says father unknown. It makes me feel lost sometimes, like I only half exist.”

  “Your mother must have an idea who it is surely? She must have known those involved in the scene, their names.”

  “She said she didn’t want to burden any of the candidates with the knowledge they might be a father. She said it would have spoiled things for them and compromised her standing in the community, made her appear careless, so she chose to get on with it alone.”

  “Didn’t she think you had a right to know who fathered you?”

  “She said it didn’t matter to her so why should it matter to me. She had no interest in singling out one person. What was done was done. I was made and that was it.”

  “I suppose it’s one way to look at it.”

  “What about your mum, Si, did she re-marry after your dad left?”

  “No. I think she was too crushed by his leaving to even want to risk a relationship again. She claims he was the love of her life.”

  “But she wasn’t his. How sad. Maybe she’ll find someone again, the right one this time, or they’ll find her.” He paused talking and resumed eating, clearing his plate. “That was delicious, Si, thank you.”

  “There’s some left, do you want to finish it?”

  “Love to, but I’m full. My stomach must have shrunk with all the lean pickings I’ve had lately.” He grinned, “chuck it in the bin and I’ll get it later.”

  “Not funny, Dee-Dee
.” I finished my own portion and set my fork down. “What you need is a plan of action.”

  “What for?” Picking up his glass he drained the contents.

  “To get you through to September.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You have no money, no food, no electricity, no anything, so how can you be fine?”

  “I have a good roof over my head, which is more than some poor folk have. I can always pawn my computer and Xbox if I get really desperate. I’ll get them out of hock again when I get paid.”

  “Why don’t you try to sell some of your art work?”

  “I don’t want to. It would be like giving parts of my soul away for people to pick over.”

  “Then go to your solicitor, ask for payment to be brought forward or for them to give you a sum to tide you over. It’s your money.”

  “The payment dates are set in stone. I think it was uncle’s way of making me learn to manage my income. I might be able to do what you said and negotiate a fair cost of living rise, but nothing else.”

  “Then let me help you out. I don’t charge interest, unlike a pawn shop.”

  “You’ve already helped me out.”

  “I’ve shared one meal, and it isn’t going to take you a month to digest it. I can’t in good conscience munch my way through three square meals a day while knowing you’re living off the shit other people throw away. It isn’t right, Dee-Dee, apart from anything else you’ll go down with something.”

  “I have the constitution of a sewer rat.”

  “No matter what, you have to pay your outstanding electricity bill and get reconnected. You have to get your boiler fixed and your washing machine. They’re essentials and they need sorting sooner rather than later.”

  He stayed stum, reaching across for my plate, placing it on top of his own along with the cutlery.

  “Let me lend you some money. I have plenty of savings so it won’t leave me short. My gramps left me a few grand when he died last year. I squirreled it away. I’ll lend you enough to get your jobs done and for you to be able to buy food and other basics. That way you’ll remain independent and won’t be tied to my meal times. I know you’ll pay me back.”

  “Sorry about your gramps. Was he nice? Did you love him?”

  “Yes, very much. I miss him. Dee, about the money?”

  “Do you have a grandma, maybe more than one?”

  I sighed and decided to give him the info he wanted, besides it was sweet of him to ask. James had never shown any interest in my family. “Gran died a few years back, she was a sweetheart. I don’t see my father’s parents, haven’t for a long time. They gradually cut contact after dad left. It was too painful for all of us. I think they were embarrassed by the way he behaved.”

  “I would have liked to be a grandson. I suppose I am, only one set of grandparents didn’t want to know me and the other set, if they’re still alive, don’t even know I exist. If they did maybe they’d want to know me. Maybe my father would have liked to know me, given the chance.” He looked sad.

  “I’m sorry, Dee-Dee. All I can say is it’s their loss. You’d have been a lovely grandson, now stop procrastinating and answer me regarding a loan.”

  Pushing back his chair he stood up. “I’ll wash up. Where’s your washing up liquid?”

  “Under the sink.” I got up and followed him across the kitchen. “What do you say?”

  “How do you know I’ll pay you back?” He got the liquid from the cupboard under the sink and squirted a generous measure into the basin. “I might be a ruthless con artist who preys on unsuspecting victims and then disappears.”

  “Somehow I don’t think so. Instinct tells me you’re honest. You’re one of the most open people I’ve ever met. Besides I know where you live.”

  “Okay then, if you’re sure, thanks. I accept. I’m pretty sick of cold water and scraps.” Tears filled his eyes. “You’re the nicest man I’ve ever met.”

  “Then you definitely need to get out more.” I pointed at the sink. “Get on with the washing up.”

  He grinned and made a mock salute. “Yes, mister teacher sir.” Turning on the hot tap he swished the liquid into frothy bubbles with his hand. He washed up in silence, as if mulling something over.

  I put the leftover chilli and rice in a Tupperware container for him to take home and then dried the pots as he washed. He broke the silence as he put the last plate on the draining board. “Si, may I ask you something?”

  “Ask away.” I handed him a tea towel on which to dry his hands.

  “Is it all right if I say you’re my friend, you know, round and about if people ask about you? Do you mind? I don’t want to assume anything or take liberties.”

  I was touched. “Of course I don’t mind. I think we are friends even though we haven’t known each other long.”

  “Thanks.” He looked pleased. “I should go now.” He shoved his hands into the robe pockets, hunching his shoulders. “Get out of your hair. You’ve probably had enough of me. Anne always said a little of me goes a long way.”

  I was beginning not to like Anne. “You can’t go anywhere without clothes. They haven’t gone through the tumble dry cycle yet. Besides, the wine is open now, so you might as well help me finish it. How about we watch a film while we wait for your laundry?”

  “I’d love to.” He beamed a smile.

  “Good. I need to pay a visit. Take the wine and glasses through to the living room and pick a DVD. I won’t be a mo.”

  I did the bathroom business, washed my hands and went into the living room where he was seated on the couch. “Have you decided what you want to watch?”

  He nodded, a look of glee on his face. “You have one of my fave films of all times, but I can see it isn’t yours. It’s still sealed. Why haven’t you watched it?”

  I groaned and gave a mock shudder as he held up a DVD case with a flourish. “No, please, anything but that.”

  “It’s brilliant. I love it. Why did you buy it if you don’t want to watch it?”

  “I didn’t. It was a Christmas present from my sister. Her idea of a joke.”

  “It’s wonderful. It’s one of those bucket list films that have to be viewed at least once before you die.” He held it out. “Please, it’s been ages since I’ve had a ‘Mama Mia’ fix. I watch it at least once a week when I have the means. It cheers me up.”

  “I’ll have to introduce you to Jo, you’ll get along well.”

  “Live dangerously, watch a musical.” He waggled the box with a roguish grin.

  I sighed and took the box from him, tearing off the cellophane. Jo would grin like a Cheshire if she could see me.

  “You’ll love it, Si, I promise.” He settled himself deeper into the sofa cushions. “Everyone loves Abba.”

  “Not everyone.” I slipped the disc into the player.

  “You will after watching the film. You’ll be singing along before the end of it.”

  I very much doubted it. I wasn’t extrovert in such a way. Sitting down I stole a glance at him as the film got underway. Light stubble shadowed his jaw accentuating its contours, highlighting a hint of a dimple in his chin, which I hadn’t noticed before. His eyes were shining with anticipatory pleasure, like a kid about to view a favourite Disney film. The bathrobe had fallen open a little, revealing a portion of lean thigh. I shifted position and forced my eyes back on the television screen.

  The film wasn’t really my cup of tea, but I thoroughly enjoyed the experience of watching it with him, or rather watching him watching it. His unselfconscious enthusiasm was engaging. He sang along word perfect to every song, admittedly more with gusto than tunefulness. It was comparison time again. James had never been a fan of ‘popular’ culture preferring highbrow to lowbrow entertainment, scorning musicals in favour of opera. I had never actually heard him sing though. Did he sing in front of Kye, I wondered.

  Dee gave a happy sigh as the closing credits rolled, his dreamy look in place. “Wasn’t it great, Simon, isn
’t it a good film? They all get a happy ever after. It doesn’t get much better.”

  “It was fun,” I admitted, “absolutely no basis in reality, but fun. What you call a feel good film.”

  “Some people have to get a happy ever after in real life. I want one.”

  “With a stern strong handsome man who wallops you when you step out of line?” I winked and paraphrased some of the sentiments from his uncle’s novel.

  He wasn’t in the least offended. “You can tease, but I don’t care. Don’t you want a happy ever after, Si, with someone special? Don’t you want to find love?”

  I reached for my wine glass, drinking off the contents. “Long term relationships aren’t my thing. I don’t get the obsession with romance and love. It isn’t something I need.”

  “Surely you don’t want to be alone all your life?”

  “I won’t be alone. I have work, good friends and family.”

  “But what about companionship, sex, affection, cuddles?”

  “You can have sex without being in a relationship.”

  “True. So when was the last time you had sex with someone?”

  “You do ask some questions, Dee-Dee. When was the last time you had sex for that matter?”

  He replied with honesty. “I do the self-service variety on a regular basis, almost daily, but I haven’t had sex with anyone in almost two years.”

  “Were you in a relationship?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve never had a proper relationship, maybe because I don’t move in regular circles and so don’t meet people on a frequent get to know basis. The last time was a one-night stand with a man who picked me up in a gay bar in Newcastle.”

  He gave an embarrassed little smile. “To be honest all my experiences of sex have been one night stands originating in city bars. The first time was when I was twenty. I was terrified, but determined to experience sex. I must have stood out like a virgin in a brothel. I had men vying to buy me a drink. I opted for a little bald guy who called me sweetheart. He wasn’t as considerate as I would have liked, but it wasn’t too horrible a first time. The last time like I said was almost two years ago. I decided not to bother again. The sex was good in itself, but when it was over it was over. It left me feeling abandoned. I’d sooner masturbate, at least when it’s over you don’t walk away from yourself.”