My Big Fat Gay Life (26 page)

“I have Sebastian just where I want him,” Matt said as he fed me my breakfast. He was on the night shift, and would be going home to Sebastian shortly.

“I must admit, he was a challenge,” Matt continued. “But now he loves me, and would never consider leaving me.”

Matt had been dating Sebastian for just over a month, and had somehow manipulated Sebastian, my smart, brilliant, yet vulnerable son, into being a victim. I cursed my traitorous body; cursed it for its lack of ability to communicate with my loved ones.

“I’m loving at just the right times to keep him hooked. Remorseful at the right times to give him the false hope that there’s hope for me. He’s scared of me - it’s such a turn on!”

For the last three weeks, Matt has delighted in telling me - in excruciating detail - the chronicle of Sebastian’s descent into victimhood. I wanted to reach out and wrap my hands around Matt’s neck, then squeeze until the malicious light in his eyes went out.

“My next chore is to get rid of that annoying, arrogant wife of yours from Sebastian’s life,” Matt said.

I remained still. Although I was desperate to rail against what Matt was saying, I kept my eyes motionless. As a mental health nurse, he’d be more likely than Sebastian or Patricia to observe my eye movements and interpret them as an attempt to communicate. The last thing I needed was for Matt to realise I could potentially communicate with Patricia or Sebastian and expose his appalling game.

Unfortunately, the chronicle of Sebastian’s descent into acceptance of an abusive partner was not untypical. It starts with isolation, followed by mental and emotional abuse, and ends up with physical abuse. I wept during Sebastian’s visits: the light in his eyes was dull. He was gone. He felt he deserved this treatment.

Being trapped in my own body, I had plenty of time to analyse Sebastian’s behaviour and response. A combination of factors led him to the point where he’d accepted Matt’s control over his life. Residual guilt from Quentin’s murder played a part, as did Sebastian’s inherent desire to cure everyone. Kento had drifted away into a happy stable relationship with Ian, and Justin and Ruth were busy playing happy families. I was unavailable, and Patricia was busy either at my bedside or at Rainbow’s End. The main factor, however, was that somewhere inside, Sebastian still believed there was hope for Matt. Understanding Sebastian’s progression did not make it any easier to accept.

My recovery is the only thing I seek at this stage. If I can recover to the point where I could denounce Matt, Patricia would take it from there. I must admit I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed the signs of abuse in Sebastian herself. Maybe she’s too caught up in her own worries about my recovery and her work at Rainbow’s End to pay close attention to Sebastian. After all, he seems fine on the surface. There’re no outward signs to arouse any suspicions.

Tony was at his group session, and the maid had the day off. I had the house to myself! I paced anxiously, and then fled to open the front door when the doorbell announced a visitor.

“Hi!” I said, opening the door. “Right on time, as per usual.”

Ryan stood in the doorway, looking gorgeous. He was wearing tight jeans that clearly showed off the outline of the enormous cock running down his thigh. It was almost obscene, and if he walked around in public in those jeans he would certainly turn heads. In fact, he’d probably cause more than a few cases of whiplash.

“Hi,” he said throatily, stepping inside and kissing me. It felt like he wanted to devour me. It felt good.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” I said to Ryan, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.

For the next two hours, Ryan fucked and munched me to the point of orgasm four times. Each orgasm was bigger and more explosive than the previous one, leaving me a quivering mess of jelly by the end of it all. He laid on his side beside me, his cock trailing across my thigh. With his tongue he licked softly at my highly sensitised nipple, causing me to moan and arch my back.

“I have to go,” he said. Disappointed, I reached for my purse. He reached out and stopped my hand before I could grab my purse. “It’s OK. Today’s a freebie.”

We had a long slow sensual shower, during which he his tongue brought me to yet another climax. The man is a master!

“Same time next week?” I asked him as I opened the front door.

“You betcha!” he replied. He then kissed me deeply.

I’ve broken the prime rule of our sexual trysts. I’ve developed feelings for someone I’m fucking.

“When do you want to announce our pregnancy?” I asked Justin. He’d just arrived at Misfits for our lunch date.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “When you’re well into the second trimester I guess.”

I took a long hard look at Justin. There was something odd about him: he seemed distant. He was staring off into space, and didn’t have the zeal he usually exhibited when we talked about the baby.

“Where are you?” I questioned him. “You certainly aren’t here with me. Quite distant, in fact.”

“Oh, sorry!” he said. “I’m here. Just thinking about Sebastian. He seems distant himself today. How about I cancel the rest of my day’s appointments and we go home, put up our feet, and watch some TV?”

“Sounds great!” I exclaimed enthusiastically. “What a treat to have my loving husband home for the afternoon.”

We talked about Rory and Barbara, and how they were settling in. We talked about Sebastian and Matt, and how they seemed to have gotten fairly close, fairly quickly. Finally, it was time to go home.

When we arrived back at our apartment, I was surprised that Justin didn’t shed his clothes the instant we walked in the door. Instead, he made his way to our bedroom and emerged in a tracksuit.

“Right!” he said, plonking himself down on the sofa. “What do you feel like watching?”

After my morning game of squash with Justin, I rushed home as fast as my exhausted legs would carry me. I kept my eyes downcast and was careful not to make eye contact with anyone in the street, as Matt didn’t like me looking at strangers. As I entered the apartment building, I glanced at my watch. 8:05. Matt wouldn’t be home from work yet.

When I let myself into the apartment, I debated whether to shower first or start preparing Matt’s breakfast. I decided to shower and remove all traces of my morning squash game, just in case Matt came home early. I was surprised to see him sitting on the bed when I emerged from the en-suite.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked with a hint of menace in his voice.

I debated lying, but knew he would see through a lie in an instant.

“Playing squash with Justin,” I said, avoiding his gaze.

“I thought I told you not to play squash with him anymore,” Matt said.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, not knowing what else to say. He was right: he’d told me not to see Justin anymore, and I’d defied him. I had no justification.

“Take off your shoes,” he said.

Hesitantly, I undid the laces and slipped off my shoes.

“I can see I have to deter you from playing squash more forcibly.” Matt lifted his right leg and brought his booted foot down on my left foot, hard. There was a snap of breaking bone, quickly followed by an excruciating pain. I suppressed a cry, and stifled the desire to retaliate. I’d disappointed him: I deserved this.

“Now get in the kitchen and prepare my breakfast.” Matt commanded. “I’ve waited long enough.”

I limped out into the kitchen, suppressing tears of pain.

* * *

A few hours later, I was resting on the sofa with a bag of frozen peas on my broken foot when my mobile phone rang. I grimaced when I saw the incoming caller was Justin. I glanced at the bedroom, hoping the ring of the phone hadn’t woken Matt.

“Hi,” I said quietly, after I’d answered the call.

“I need to see you,” Justin said without preamble. A movement caught my eye, and I looked up to see Matt standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

“I can’t right now,” I told Justin.

“Please?” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly to him, “but I can’t leave the apartment right now.”

I disconnected the call, and Matt turned and went back to bed.

I was thrilled! Sebastian had agreed to a game of squash this morning. For the last few weeks he’d begged off, claiming he was too busy with work or with Matt. Finally I’d resorted to using guilt, and it worked! He was here, and we were warming up.

“How’s Matt?” I asked him.

“He’s good,” Seb replied. “He’ll be home from work about 8:30, so I’d like to be there before then.”

Taking the hint, I spun the racquet to determine who would serve first. Seb won.

For the next hour we raced around the court and built up a good sweat. Seb’s break from squash seemed to have improved his game: he played with a hunger and determination that brought him to a new level, and we were evenly matched for a change. It made for a challenging game.

Regularly, Seb stole glances at his watch. He had to lift his sleeve to do so, and I realised he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt instead of his usual sleeveless shirt. This struck me as a bit strange.