The Quirk (25 page)

“Did he act peculiar after that?”

“He acted peculiar the whole time. I didn’t like him. He must’ve seen the prince give me his card. At the end when he gave me his, he made some crack about my collecting them. I’ll be damned. So that’s Gérard Thillier.”

Patrice was staring at space, looking so hunted and haunted and lost that Rod’s heart was wrenched. He rose and went around the table to him and put his hands on his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “Come on, baby. Take it easy. What difference does it make?”

“You don’t know. He’s been biding his time, probably because he thinks I’ve lost my head over some silly little faggot and will come to my senses. Now that he has seen you, he will know it’s not that. He will do everything he can to destroy everything good between us. He has very important connections. He could have you put out of the country.”

“Don’t be silly. Why would he bother? All he’s suggested is that I come see him and show him a picture.”

“Yes. Why? He will never give you a show. He will try only to hurt us both in any way he can.”

“How? I don’t even have to go see him, for God’s sakes.”

“No, you mustn’t. Not until I’ve had a chance to talk to him.”

“Now listen.” Rod squatted beside Patrice and put his hand under his chin and turned his head to face him. Their eyes met. Rod took a deep breath as all his protective possessive instincts seemed to gather in a knot in his chest. He hadn’t realized that his boy was still so under the influence of his discarded father figure. “You’re mine. Right? That’s the way we’re going to keep it. I’m not going to let Thillier give you a rough time so forget him. We don’t need him.”

“But you don’t understand,
chéri.
He is very dangerous, but he could also help. If this woman is ready to pay for a show, it would be very good for you. He knows Nicole. I could perhaps convince him of what you said before–that we’re just friends and that you will soon be married. He could also tell her that you’re living with a notorious pervert.”

“Are you notorious, baby?”

“Yes, but I swear to you that I–” Something in Rod’s eyes made his voice trail off.

“No, don’t say it,” Rod said gently. “You don’t have to. I thought you might be, but I know it’s all finished, whatever it was.” Their eyes searched and probed and assented to everything they found in each other. “Forget what I said about being in love. That’s silly. But I really do love you, baby, more than I can show you. If it had more to do with sex, it would be easier.” Rod ran light fingertips over the troubled face. “I’ve missed you for the last few weeks, but you understand why I had to sort of pull back. That’s over now. I can’t imagine being without you, so don’t worry about anybody spoiling things for us.”

“I’m scared,
chéri.
” He moved in closer and buried his face in Rod’s chest. “
Mon grand beau.
I can give you so little, yet you are ready to take care of me.”

“Naturally. We take care of each other. I couldn’t have gotten through the last few months without you.” He searched for the word or act that would eliminate Thillier once and for all. He added, “I need you.”

“Please do. I try not let myself think about how much I need you. What I need is unimportant. Only when you–you say you love me do I feel very important.”

“I’ve been so selfish with you.” Rod slipped his hands under the robe and moved them over the slim body. The night’s guilt urged him to make up to Patrice for all his shortcomings. “I don’t know anything about being queer but the hell with it. It doesn’t matter what people do with loving. I guess I better show you what I mean. I’m all fucked out, so I’m not being carried away by some crazy impulse I might regret. This is a good time to do it. He hoped he could go through with it. He ran his hands along Patrice’s shoulders and pushed the robe down over them, exposing the tender stripling’s chest. Patrice held the robe firmly closed at his waist. Rod chuckled. “There’s no use putting up a fight. I’m bigger than you are.”

“Please,
chéri.
” There was a note of panic in Patrice’s voice. “Please don’t. You know what happens when you touch me. You don’t like to see me like that. I’m your girl.”

“I’ve got a girl. I want you to be my boy. We’ve been together long enough for me to find out if you’ve got a cock. Let go.” The robe fell open. Patrice’s legs were crossed, locked together. “You’re such a pretty guy, you must be fed up with my not paying any attention to this.” Without looking, he unlocked Patrice’s legs and found his boy’s erection and held it for the first time. It felt bigger than he had expected. He was inexplicably proud of it, and he smiled slyly into Patrice’s eyes as he caressed it.

“Please,
chéri,
” Patrice begged. “You don’t like it. You mustn’t force yourself.”

“Sure I must. Anyway, I’m not forcing anything. It feels nice and sexy. If you decide to take on that girl you keep talking about, I’m sure she’ll be delighted with it.” He stood and pulled Patrice to his feet. His boy tried to cover himself again with the robe. Rod pulled his hands out of the sleeves and took it away from him. Patrice tried to duck away around the table but Rod held him firmly in front of him. His head was bowed. “I keep telling you how much you mean to me, but I never do anything about it. Words. It’s time for action.” The boy struggled against his grip. “Why not? If I can do something that pleases you, it doesn’t matter if I like it or not as long as it doesn’t kill me.” He dropped to the edge of the chair and pulled Patrice to him, feeling every muscle in the boy’s body coiled to tear himself away. He looked up at him. “Please, monkey. Relax. I probably won’t be very good at it. Don’t make it more difficult for me.”

He lowered his eyes and finally took a close look at a man with an erection. It strained up to him, looking so taut that he wondered how he could get it into a drawing. There being no visible source of tension added mystery. It would be like drawing a man on the rack without showing the rack. He regretted not having studied it before, so fascinated that he almost forgot what he set out to do. He fought a final battle with ingrained repugnance and conquered it. He leaned forward and opened his mouth and drew the rigid flesh into it.

Patrice cried out and tried to pull away again, but Rod had a firm grip on his hips. He tugged at Rod’s hair. “Stop. You mustn’t I don’t want it You’ll hate me for letting you.”

Rod tried to overcome his resistance by reproducing the things he had learned from him, but it was such a mouthful that he was unable to experiment freely. He wondered how Patrice managed with such apparent ease. It struck him as a grotesque act, yet it had been performed often for him, apparently with pleasure. He remembered the shock of letting Patrice make love to his body the first morning and wondered how he had come so far along this unknown road. He had a cock in his mouth. At least he was doing it for someone he loved, which made it more honorable than anything that had happened during the night.

Patrice continued to protest, his voice hoarse with tension. “You’re making me come. I can’t help it. Oh, please. Please,
chéri.
No. Oh, God. No.” His body lurched. his knees buckled. Rod’s mouth was filled with a musky fluid that was thick and warm.

He tried to swallow it and gagged. He wanted to take all of it, but it overflowed his mouth. He sprang up and made a dash for the toilet and spat it out. His stomach heaved. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He thought he was going to be sick. He swayed over the toilet and continued to spit. There was so much of it.

His hands were shaking violently, but when he looked at them they stopped. He felt totally cut off from himself, at a loss as to who he was or where he was going. He thought that this was what it might be like to go mad. He had to find a recognizable face to present to Patrice and act as if he was sure of himself. Any trace of embarrassment or uncertainty would be misinterpreted. He wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand and straightened his clothes and went out to demonstrate that he had taken the incident in stride.

Patrice was seated at the kitchen table, wrapped in his robe. He didn’t look up at Rod’s approach. Rod touched his shoulder.

“It happened,” he said, sounding as unconcerned as he could have wished. “I don’t guess it was very good for you, and there’s no use pretending it’s something I’d ordinarily be absolutely crazy about, but it’s the thought that counts.”

Patrice lifted his eyes. They still looked haunted. “You’re not disgusted with me?”

“Oh, baby, how could I be? You tried to stop me. I guess the first time is bound to be a bit–unexpected.”

“It certainly was for me.” They studied each other for a moment, and Patrice’s eyes cleared. They carried Rod beyond the act to the meaning he had tried to put into it. Perhaps it was as simple as he had wanted it to be, leaving him intact and unaltered. The only way to find out was to get on with the day’s business and pretend it was behind them. He touched Patrice’s hair and pulled a chair around and sat close to him, facing him.

“I’ll be having lunch with Germaine,” he said with a switch of conversational gears. “She wants to talk about Thillier and the show. What should I say?”

“It doesn’t matter as long as you do nothing until I talk to him.”

“You don’t know Germaine. She’ll probably be having the posters printed up by this evening. I don’t want you mixed up in something that upsets you so much. Germaine surely must know of other galleries besides Gérard’s.”

For you, Gérard is the best. He’s known for discovering important new painters. I must find out what game he plays. Not just about the show. It could be almost anything.”

“Like having me thrown out of the country?”

“He has done it before. I will try to find out today.”

“You’re planning to see him?”

“I think I’ll have to.”

“Well, take it easy, baby. Don’t worry about me. I have some pretty important connections myself.”

“I better dress. I want to get to work promptly. The day may be difficult later.” He rose and hesitated. He suspected that Rod wanted to obliterate with talk the sexual act, and he still feared its consequences. There had been no desire in it. The feel of his beloved’s mouth on him was a promise of bliss he wouldn’t let himself believe in. He couldn’t undo it, but he could help Rod see it as a matter of no importance. “I think now I will let you see me naked sometimes. After all, there is nothing very terrible to hide.”

“I wish you’d burn that damn robe.”

“Not yet. But slowly I may learn not to grab it so quickly.” He shot Rod a merry glance. “I owe it a great deal. All this time I have been disguised as a little lump of wool. Now I think you’re ready to know the truth.”

“Just keep smiling for me, monkey.”

Patrice did so, and Rod rose and followed him back to the bedroom. He hung up his clothes while Patrice dressed and climbed into the unmade bed and was asleep before Patrice had left. He awoke with a start an hour later. Had he dreamed it all–Germaine, Thillier and Patrice, what he had done with his boy? He put it all together slowly and found that it was real. He had been unfaithful to Nicole. Thillier was the villain in Patrice’s life. He had sucked a cock. His mind reeled again and settled on Patrice’s theory that it would have to happen with another boy before it could be considered anything but a quirk. Sucking a cock didn’t make him a cocksucker; he didn’t know what it had made him. He drowsed and dawdled and dressed and went out into a day of balmy sun. It was suddenly spring. Everywhere he looked, the grim gray city had been transformed into vistas of unknown delight. He went around the corner and called Nicole, glad for another day or two to pull himself into some recognizable shape. He couldn’t believe that the things he had done hadn’t marked him in some way. He told her he’d gone to Lola’s party.

“I know, my dearest. I’ve heard already. I’ve also heard that Germaine was doing her best to console you for my absence.”

“She was very attractive. She even sent me home in her car. She’s suddenly decided to become a patron of the arts. I’m supposed to have lunch with her in a little while to discuss my future.”

“Lunch? I
am
jealous. I thought I was the only person you had lunch with.”

“The only person I want to have lunch with. Shall I ditch her and come see you? The party threw me all off as far as work’s concerned.”

“No, darling. Give me a day or two, and we’ll be together again. It’s too frustrating to see you when I’m like this. You were a great success last night. Beauty Lussigny just called and asked us to have dinner with him. I told him to call again at the beginning of the week. He’s mad about you, of course.”

“He told me you were pals. I was amazed. I didn’t know you knew such racy people.”

“Men who don’t want to flirt with me often turn out to be good friends. Beauty is adorable. My first man–only a boy really–actually went to bed with him. He told me all about it. It sounded so sweet and absurd that I didn’t mind it in the least.”

“Well, aren’t we sophisticated. You must tell me more when we see each other.” He liked the new Nicole; he had been doing her an injustice in thinking he had to hide Patrice from her.

“What do you say, my darling? Shall I accept?”

“The prince? Sure. I love to look at him.”

“It’s mutual I’m sure. I think I’m going to be somewhat
de trop
at this dinner. I hope he doesn’t make a habit of borrowing my men.”