Perfect Freedom (41 page)

“I'm interested,” Stuart said mildly. “When were you born?”

“The thirteenth of August, one thousand, nine hundred, and fifteen,” Toni replied with a laugh. Stuart set himself checking dates but his mind stumbled when he tried to count. August … That didn't seem right.

“I'd like to talk to you again some time,” he said before he realized that Toni was no longer listening.

“Well, have you found the love of your life?” Hilliard asked.

“He comes from a village near a place where I once spent a summer. He reminded me of someone I knew there.”

“That so? As a matter of fact, I was thinking he looks a little like you. He has the same kind of nose, poor fellow.”

They stayed on long enough to give Toni time to finish the drink they had ordered for him and then they all left together; Once outside, the Lambrechts announced their intention of going to bed.

“What are you going to do?” Stuart asked Toni. “You're finished there for the night?”

“Once an evening is quite enough,” Toni said emphatically.

“You don't like it?”

“Not much. I only do it to pay for my vacation. Not that I would have to pay for it, if you follow me, but I'm no gigolo.”

Stuart forgave him for thinking he had to say it. “Why don't you come with us? We need all the muscle we can find.” He explained about the statue and asked Toni to come out to the house for a drink after they had loaded it into the car. Toni brightened.

“I'd like to see your place. Of course I've been to some of the grandest villas on the coast, but they say yours is unusual.”

“Well, you'll see for yourself,” Stuart said. Since they had spoken French, he explained to Hilliard and his girl what had been arranged. He went to the car and nudged Felix, who sprang into action from a dead sleep.

As they boarded
Northern Star
Stuart spoke loudly so that if the crew awoke they wouldn't bother to come out. When he opened the locker, Hilliard whistled.

“Did you steal it or kill it?” Swaddled in blankets, stained with greasy water, it looked like the victim of some terrible calamity.

The four men wrestled with it and after a struggle managed to get it up onto the afterdeck. There they trussed it in ropes and eased it slowly down the gangplank. At last it was installed in the back seat of the Rolls. Passersby stared.

“Thank God you came along,” Stuart said to Toni. “I don't think we could've managed without you.”

“I don't think you could. As a rule I shouldn't do heavy work like that because of my dancing. I've got to be careful not to strain a muscle.”

“Well, that's it. Let's go. Do you remember the road, Stan?” Hilliard assured him that he did and they went off to get their car while Stuart and Toni climbed into the Rolls, with Felix in the back to watch over the statue.

“How did you happen to get this dancing job?” Stuart asked as they started out of town.

“Oh, I've been going to classes in dancing and dramatics in Paris and the man who runs the place knew the man who owns this joint and they arranged it.” He spoke slangy Parisian French.

“Have you always wanted to work in the theater?”

“Not exactly. It's a long story. I went to Paris to find a job and ended up as a waiter. Then I met René Barteau. D'you know him? He's quite well known in the theater. He thought I had talent and arranged for me to take these classes and he's helped me get small parts. I've been promised a part in a film in the autumn.”

A commonplace story, Stuart concluded, possibly blameless, possibly not. “What do you think of those people who come to see you?” he said pointedly.

“
Les pédés
? They make me shit. They don't fool around with me.” The answer satisfied Stuart. The boy could have evaded the question but he had spoken with conviction.

“What made you decide to leave home?” Stuart asked.

“Well, you know Brittany. Who wants to live there the rest of their lives? Besides, we didn't even live in the village. My family are peasants. All they think about is their crops and the animals. I liked school. I read a lot. I guess it gave me ideas.” Stuart recognized himself in reverse. He seemed a nice simple kid, with the touch of imagination that had drawn him to the big city. His son.

“It's too bad you have to work here if you don't like it.”

“Oh, well, it could be worse. I'm having a big success.” He couldn't make Stuart out. So far, he had betrayed none of the signs Toni had grown quick to detect, but this sounded as if it might be an opening. Was he going to offer to keep him? He had learned in Paris that he could expect just about anybody to try to go to bed with him. This had its advantages professionally but hadn't much affected the moral principles that had been bred in him.

He had never gone to bed with a woman unless he was attracted to her, and never for money. In the case of the few men it had happened with, vital interests had usually been involved. He couldn't see that it did him much harm. He always hated his partners after it was over but he didn't often like them much before it began, either. As soon as he was well enough established he would get married and people would stop bothering him. He liked this man and wanted to see his house. He had heard people talking about it since he'd arrived and he was looking forward to mentioning casually that he had been there, but it wasn't important enough for him to go to bed with him. The fact that the American couple was following them was reassuring. He turned and looked back.

“I think your friends are behind us,” he said.

Stuart decided to leave the statue in the car till morning. Felix took charge of the Hilliard luggage as soon as the other car pulled in behind the Rolls. They all got out and gathered in the village square.

“You've built a goddam town,” Hilliard exclaimed.

“I'm planning for villagers to come out and perform a jolly dance but I haven't bought them yet.” Stuart swayed slightly and put a hand on Toni's shoulder for support. He felt bone and muscle under the loose shirt. His son. “I think I'm finally getting pissed.” He led the way to the guest wing so as not to arouse the whole household. “The rest of it's over there,” he said with a wave of his hand. Vistas of sea could be glimpsed through arched openings. “I'll give you a tour in the morning.” He went along the colonnaded passage, opening doors and switching on lights.

The rooms were furnished with handsome old Provençal pieces and fabrics in cool colors and white. There were vases of flowers everywhere. Stuart went to a centrally located bar cupboard and threw open the doors.

“Now in theory, there's liquor and ice in here,” he said, “but since I've just got here I don't know much more about it than you do.” He found everything where he expected it to be while the others wandered about exclaiming with admiration. He put out drinks and told Pat to take her pick of the bedrooms. He sank into a chaise longue in the courtyard and decided that he would never be able to move again. Toni stood nearby. The drive in the dark had been a break in continuity and Stuart looked at him with fresh eyes. He seemed to have shed all resemblance to the exotic dancer he'd seen perform. He looked like a very handsome well-built country boy wearing rather eccentric clothes. The shadowy light toned down the golden curls. Stuart remembered that he was supposed to take him back to town.

“Oh yes. Are you anxious to get back to town?” he asked. “Would you mind spending the night out here?”

“You mean in one of these rooms?”

“Sure. Don't you like them?”

“Of course. That would be fine,” the boy replied, smiling in the way Stuart found so appealing. “I thought I'd go back with your friends. I didn't understand they were staying.”

“Fine.” He'd have another son staying under his roof. “Tomorrow you'll meet my wife and boy. Robbie's a few years younger than you but I hope you'll like each other. I really must leave you all and go to bed. I'm dead.”

Robbie saw him while he was having a late-morning swim. He glanced toward shore and was stunned to see a naked youth descending the steps to the beach. Golden curls glinted in the sun. In his haste to get to him, Robbie gulped water and almost sank before he burrowed strongly into the sea. He stood when the water was thigh-high and pushed his way in as the young stranger approached the edge of the rippling sea. He was a vision; Robbie couldn't believe he was real. He wasn't quite naked but nothing concealed the athletic glory of his body, the powerful thighs and calves, narrow hips, lithe torso, and light, graceful shoulders. The scrap of cloth around his loins barely contained the private glory. His face was a mask, a drawing composed of a few deft strokes—big eyes set out close to the surface of his cheeks, a straight nose, a bold ripe mouth, a strong jaw. A few squiggles for the crown of golden curls and it was done.

“Good morning,” Robbie called in French. He freed himself from the pull of the sea and quickly crossed the last few yards of beach that separated them.

“You must be Robbie,” the Vision said. A fervent wish that Robbie were a girl accompanied Toni's first close look at him. He was more beautiful than his most recent girl. Since he was obviously, conspicuously a boy, the desire that had sprung up in him died, leaving a residue of unaccustomed affection. He felt instantly protective of him. “I helped with the statue last night. Your father asked me out for a drink and then suggested I stay. Oh, I'm sorry. My name's Toni.” They shook hands.

Of course, Robbie thought. It had to be. He was the dancer from the Tour Engloutie. No wonder everybody was mad about him. When he spoke, the mask assumed all the depth and complexity of a handsome young man's face, a seductive crease at the corner of his mouth, the hint of a dimple, something faintly asymmetrical about the eyes. A face of potent appeal. “I wish I'd known you were here. You could've stayed with me.” Robbie blurted it out, wondering if he could make any impression on a vision.

“If I had, maybe you'd've lent me something to wear,” Toni said, as if he would have been glad to stay with him. “I had nothing to swim in except this thing I wear under my dance trunks. I do an act without much on.”

“I've heard about your act. They say you're sensational.” Robbie permitted himself a closer look at the garment in question. It sat so low on his hips that it just covered the base of his cock. He noticed that his pubic hair was cut in an unnaturally straight line along the edge of the cloth. He tore his eyes away from the engrossing spectacle. “We can swim naked here but not if my mother or anybody's around. Would you like me to give you something? Why don't you come up to my house? I'd like to show it to you anyway.”

“You have your own house here?”

“Yes, that's what I meant about staying with me. There's room for a friend.”

“You and your father are being very nice to me. Thanks for saying you've heard I'm sensational.” He smiled enchantingly, a smile of pure pleasure. He spoke rapid Parisian French, chopping off the ends of his words.
Sensationnel
became
sensas.
Robbie decided to drop the drawl he bad adopted from Edward the day before and become a Parisian. “This
place
is sensational, what I've seen of it.”

“Come on. I'll show you more.” He resisted the temptation to touch him as he headed him back up the steps. His heart was pounding. With any luck, he was going to see the talk of the town naked.

“I couldn't figure out why your father was interested in me,” Toni said. “He made a big point about where and when I was born, as if he knew something about me. I think he was a little drunk.”

Robbie laughed. “I'll bet he was. We had a big day. I was supposed to go see you last night but I was too tired.”

“You didn't miss much. I'm not really a dancer. I want to be an actor.”

“Everybody says you're amazing.”

“I guess it's a pretty good act but I'll be glad when it's over. I have to shave everywhere.” He lifted an arm to reveal an immaculate armpit. He passed a hand across his lower abdomen. “Even here. My hair isn't really this color either. I'm pretty blond but it's been curled and touched up. I feel sort of silly.”

“You don't look silly. It's beautiful.”

“Thanks. Your father said he hoped we'd like each other. I guess we're going to.” For a devastating moment, he put a hand on Robbie's shoulder.

Robbie dropped behind as they started up the path to his house. The little G-string left Toni's buttocks bare. They were taut and smoothly rounded and looked as firmly sculptured as marble. Robbie was reminded of the statue. He wanted to stroke them as he had the statue's. “Here we are,” he said as they turned at a clump of laurel. He moved up beside him and screwed up his courage to give him a pat on the back as he ushered him in. His hand tingled with the contact.

Toni moved into the living room with the assured air of a performer making an entrance and looked around him. His first guest. Robbie's mind tumbled about trying to remember if he had any experience to guide him in this situation. How had he let the others know that he wanted to make love with them? Toni turned and looked at him with a light of friendly envy shining in his big green eyes.

“Well, this is pretty marvelous. You have it all to yourself?”

“Yes, I'm an only child. You see, I want to be a painter.” He nodded at the easel he had set up under the skylight. “This was going to be my studio but it sort of grew into a whole house.”

Toni's eyes moved to the open door of the kitchenette. “You can even cook here.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

“All you need is a girl. Do you have one?”

“Oh no,” Robbie objected facetiously. He wasn't going to make the mistake he'd made with Rico and let Toni think he needed help getting a girl. “I wouldn't want a girl here. She might get ideas about staying.”