The Artists - 6. Night Bringth Peace

Casey sat quietly on the small sofa while the older man made tea. He hoped it was Euphorbia who was in the kitchenette, but it was Peter instead. He knew they were the same person, but it made him nervous because somehow it just didn’t seem right that a person could be two completely different people; and, Peter and Euphorbia were definitely different. Peter wasn’t anything like the older woman who wanted him to help her in the kitchen today.

It had been a very confusing and frustrating day. First with Tiffani making fun of him because of the barely visible blond mustache; his foolishness by trying to climb down the post when he could’ve simply walked down the stairs and seen who was sitting under the balcony; then Six’s and Ben’s erections and the different meanings each represented; and finally having to sit through the beginning of Ben’s interrogation and proving the cell phone and Shuffle were his. That was the easy part, really. Why would Ben have Casey’s parents and friends on his cell phone? Plus, Casey had etched his cell phone number on the back of his Shuffle. If the phone was his, so was the Shuffle.

Once they’d taken care of that issue he was asked to leave. Later after everyone left the picnic, Ben asked him and Six if they could help him move down to the guest suite in the basement. Ben said he’d spent spring term of the previous year in the basement so it was okay with him; on top of that, he didn’t really need the studio because most of his art was pencil drawings.

When they finished Ben waited for Six to leave and then apologized to Casey for the way he acted.

“I’m not even queer,” Ben said, sheepishly. “God, you must think I’m some kind of sicko being naked and hard and ready to fuck you. Honest, I don’t know what made me do it.”

“It’s okay,” Casey said. He didn’t want to make anything of it while he was alone with Ben as he didn’t trust the boy. “I’ve got to call my mom.”

Casey walked out of the room and down the hall to Euphorbia’s room and now he sat waiting for a man, who usually dressed as a woman, to make herbal tea. When Peter first answered the door, Casey was certain the man couldn’t have been Euphorbia because he appeared much shorter, almost diminutive. Peter was very fit for a man in his early sixties and he spoke with a deeper voice than Euphorbia. Casey was so thoroughly confused by the situation he seriously considered leaving; except, he very much wanted to know why Euphorbia was flirting with him.

“Here we go,” Peter said as he came out of the kitchenette. “I’m letting you have the mug. Even though it’s only herbal, I’ll be going all night if I have too much. You don’t have a bladder problem too, do you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Casey said as he pondered the bright blue glazed mug full of steaming yellow liquid.

“Good, now what can I do for you?” Peter asked. He took a sip of his tea and smiled at Casey.

“As I said earlier I wanted to talk to Euphorbia about something,” Casey said.

“We’re one and the same,” Peter said.

“But you’re not,” Casey said. He took a sip of tea and immediately his mind went into overdrive trying to figure out the sweet fluid. It was almost like those pills his stepmother took. The ones he snuck out of the medicine cabinet when they’d gone golfing. He could almost feel his body begin to float toward the ceiling.

“No, I suppose we’re not quite the same all the time and I have to apologize for Euphorbia’s actions around you. But, you see, most of the children do not want to have anything to do with us and you stepped right in without any apparent qualms.”

“I thought Euphorbia was a woman,” Casey said. “How was I to know you were just playing with me?”

“We were not playing with you,” Peter said. He stood and came over to the sofa and sat next to Casey. “Are you okay with me sitting here or should I go back to the wing chair?”

“It’s okay,” Casey whispered. It wasn’t really okay. He was nervous. He’d never been this close to an older gay man; at least not to his knowledge.

“You are nervous, aren’t you?” Peter asked. His cup was on the coffee table and his arm was across Casey’s shoulders. They were so close Casey could feel the man’s chest expand against him with each breath.

“A little,” Casey whispered. He took another swallow of tea and another wave of euphoria swept over him. “Are there drugs in this?”

“Oh, no, nothing as sinister as that,” Peter said without turning to face Casey. “Just a little eye of newt, wart of toad, and a nip of crushed foreskins.”

“What?” Casey exclaimed.

“Just kidding,” Peter said. He turned slightly and put his hand on Casey’s stomach. “You take everything so seriously. It’s just a few herbs and spices to calm you down a bit. A lot has happened to you today and we certainly don’t want you coming down sick. Now, how does a nice hot bath sound?”

“Okay,” Casey whispered. He noticed the tea was almost gone.

“Good, I’ll help. Let’s get this top off first. Ooh! You have breasts. You’re not embarrassed by these are you? They’re so nice and plump. Do you like, no, no, you’re not experienced enough for that. Come on stand up. Let’s get your shoes and socks off and the rest of your clothes.”

It was a whirlwind of activity that Casey was only vaguely aware of. He lifted his feet as each shoe was removed. Then he steadied himself on Peter’s shoulders as the man removed his socks. The baggy jeans practically fell to the floor since the suspenders weren’t holding them up. Finally, his navy blue boxers were on the floor, too.

He knew he was totally naked standing in front of Peter, but somehow that didn’t seem to matter. It was as if this was completely okay, something that was done in the normal course of events.

“Where’s willy?” Peter asked.

“Who?” Casey asked.

“Your dick,” Peter said. “I can’t see your willy. Do you have one?”

“It’s under the fat,” Casey said as he pulled the fatty tissue up and away from his groin. “It’s not much.”

“Do you use cornstarch?” Peter asked as his fingers gingerly poked and prodded the damp flesh. “You might be getting a rash here.”

“I get them all the time,” Casey said. “They go away after a while.”

“You’ll need bath salts and maybe a little lavender to make you smell sweet,” Peter said as he stood. “Come along, I’ll draw your water and get you settled. Have you ever considered letting your hair grow out?”

“No,” Casey whispered. Having long hair meant having to get it styled. He had hair clippers and they worked just fine.

It was all so overwhelming the way Peter took over and put him in a bathtub full of sweet smelling, sudsy water. He leaned back and simply let his mind wander to happier lands. Later that night, as his young body drifted out of a strange dream he realized he was sleeping in Peter’s bed and the older man was snuggled against him.

Casey thought for a moment before sleep once again called him into that nowhere place of dreams. He knew this wasn’t quite right, but Peter was being nice to him, very nice to him. Nothing had been said about sex. Even when Peter was applying the salve to a spot of inflammation on his testicles, Peter didn’t say anything flippant or derogatory when Casey got hard. He simply said, “We’ll worry about that someday when you’re older.”

Casey tried to force his mind to ponder that statement, but sleep crept up and took him away.

Meanwhile, on the second floor Six sat on his bed with the Prester John book in his lap. He knew his life was over if they sent him home. His mother wouldn’t allow him to attend Lewis and Clark or Reed College. He’d end up at Portland State which wasn’t mediocre; it was just another public institution like so many throughout the country.

He’d been so sure about the Power. He knew it required total obedience, but it overwhelmed him today and they discovered him in a trance. It happened dozens of times at home and no one else was the wiser, but today the Power took him when he should’ve been down at the picnic.

It was the blue, of course. The Power loved blue, especially the lighter sky shades. The Power wanted to appear with the sky behind it; sort of like up in the clouds, flying free with the world at its feet.

Six felt the surge of the Power within him. He hadn’t lost contact, but propitiation was still required. He still needed to submit to Casey’s sexual desires; and, more importantly, he had to experience pain, excruciating physical pain. The Power definitely would not allow him access to the crystal without first coming within a breath of death.

Six stood up, removed his clothes, found his prayer towel, found an incense burner—he’d have to pray in the studio to prevent the burner catching the carpet on fire—and selected an appropriate scent, and he settled himself down with the book beside him. He set the book on its spine to allow the Power to select the verse for meditation.

Strangely, when he let go, the book opened to the second to last chapter. He’d never been this far back in the book as most of the verses were practically gibberish as if the translation wasn’t quite as good as the first part of the book. He read from the page:

Standing green below blue
Eyes hidden beneath sky
Death awaits, blood of life.

Six focused his mind on the verse, running the words in a constant loop to seek its hidden meaning. He shut his eyes and tried to imagine the setting of the verse. What he didn’t do and what might have helped in this situation was look at the chapter title. Six was going to have to find the tiger on his own.

Unfortunately, deep in his mind he wanted to get back to the mountain, but the Power had other ideas. Six was going to suffer and the first lesson came with the door chime. Since he was still close to home, the agonizing ring tore through his brain and broke his concentration. The bell chimed once more.

Without saying a word in a purposeful attempt to remain calm so as to not anger the Power, Six rose to his feet and went to the door. He opened it slightly and saw Eric.

“May I come in?” Eric asked. “Is that incense?”

“Uh, yeah,” Six said. What was he going to say? No? They’d pack him off in the morning if he said that.

“Getting ready for bed or do you just enjoy being nude?” Eric asked as he walked into the room. “We have a rule against incense; it messes up the air conditioning system. Didn’t you read the house rules, yet?”

“No,” Six said. He looked at the book; it was still open. He should’ve closed, covered, and hidden it before allowing Eric into his studio. Alarmed, he watched the older man walk over and pick it up. “No! Stop!”

“So, you’re a follower of Agnes,” Eric said as he closed the book and wrapped the calfskin around it in the proper manner. “Put something on and douse the incense. I’ll be in your bedroom.”

After doing as he was told, Six sat next to Eric on the loveseat. The rubber hand wasn’t where it had been earlier. There was just a shortened arm, cutoff about halfway between the elbow and shoulder so that it just showed at the hem of Eric’s t-shirt.

Eric didn’t have the book. Six scanned his room and saw it where he normally hid it. Obviously, Eric knew the Power, too.

“You said I was a follower of Agnes,” Six said. “Who’s she?”

“Agnes Gretford, the author of Prester John on the Crystal Mountain,” Eric said matter-of-factly. “I suppose a little explanation is in order because it won’t make a bit of sense unless you understand the history of our story.

“I’m not certain when it started, but when I returned home from Viet Nam minus most of my arm, there was a student at the Diego Institute who was very much into your book.”

“So, it is old,” Six said, almost immediately sorry he’d said that. The late Sixties, early Seventies, was not old, even he knew that.

“Ah, impetuous youth, always ready for the easy answer,” Eric said. “But, this book isn’t that much older, either. Anyway, the student and Robert were doing peyote while reading the verses.”

“You’re not supposed to do that!” Six exclaimed. “The Power is very specific about using artificial stimulation.”

“Yes, well, maybe they didn’t read that part,” Eric said, “or wanted to read that part. Anyway, the boy decided he could fly. Luckily, he chose to try it from a cliff over the water. It wasn’t high enough to kill him outright and there weren’t any rocks to assist in his death, but he did break a lot of bones and probably had a moment of consciousness before life left him.”

“Shit!” Six exclaimed. He’d seen that chapter, the one that said with true belief you, too, could join the Power at the peak of the Heavens. “Fly away your spirit” the verses started, but Six understood them differently. He saw them as spiritually flying; somewhat in the way he “spiritually” climbed the mountain and communed with the crystal.

“They found the book in his room, along with the incense,” Eric continued. “Jim took care of everything because Robert was pretty much out of it, what with knowing he’d pretty much led the boy to doing the verse while using peyote. Maybe he blamed himself for the boy’s death. Probably only Jim knows that.”

“But, I have no intention of flying like that,” Six said.

“No, but you still don’t know anything about the book, either,” Eric said. “As I said, Agnes Gretford wrote the book. This isn’t a translation of ancient Sanskrit texts. Agnes is the author. It’s all a hoax. From what I’ve been able to gather, Agnes was born in a small village in Sussex, England, and lived within twenty miles of that village all her life. There’s no record of her ever marrying, no children, but she did have a brother and two sisters. Unfortunately, Agnes probably didn’t make a whole lot of money from her book, as there doesn’t seem to be a lot of copies floating around. Plus, in the wrong hands, this book will kill the reader.”

“A killer book, that’s funny,” Six said, suddenly realizing the import of those words. He was going to have to hurt himself within an inch of death to get back to the mountain. An inch of death.

“This isn’t funny,” Eric said.

“I know,” Six said. “Look, I got the book at a used bookstore in Portland a couple of years ago and I’ve found it helps me concentrate on my art. I’m not going to try to fly and I certainly don’t want to die. And, thanks for the info on Agnes. She must have been quite a character. I want to stay here and I’ll do anything you want to do that.”

“Get rid of the book,” Eric said. “I know it won’t be easy, but we’re willing to do whatever is necessary to help you, including sending you to someone who might be able to help.”

“A shrink?” Six interjected. “I’ve been to one. Daddy sent me to a shrink to cure me from homosexuality.”

“Sorry, but that book is going to do you more harm than good,” Eric said, “and we don’t want that to happen. Just think about it. You can stay here for now, but we’re going to have to work to get that book out of your mind.”

Jim sat on the ottoman massaging the bare shoulders and neck of the boy sitting on the floor between his bare legs. He never imagined in all the years of knowing his sexuality that he could play a dominant role in a relationship. Yet, here he was with a naked boy, his boy, who was going to suck his cock in a few minutes and Jim still wasn’t quite certain if the boy was gay or not.

That didn’t matter in this instance. What mattered was that the boy was willing to submit to Jim’s dominance and to place Jim in virtual authority over his pathetic life. It all started last spring with a fight between two boys, a snobby senior and a likeable, yet rough edged freshman. A week later the senior had an obvious accident that resulted in a broken arm. He blamed the freshman, but there was absolutely no evidence of any involvement by another party.

Then things started to go missing. Little things, insignificant objects, detritus of everyday life, like the sock that disappears in the dryer, bits and pieces of everyone’s lives in Charles House seemed to evaporate into the ether.

Then, almost on cue, the freshman made a horrendously obvious mistake and showed up naked in the bed with the other freshman, a girl, who was not the least amused by the incident.

The freshman was given a choice: stay at Charles House under the direct guidance of Jim or leave. Unfortunately, leaving meant giving up the Robert Charles scholarship, which for this particular freshman was the only thing that enabled him to go to college.

The sex didn’t start immediately. Jim hadn’t even considered having sex with the boy simply because he wasn’t all that interested in sex with anyone. He was a widower at seventy and had pretty much resigned himself to being celibate in his final years. There was porn, of course, and his hand was still faithful, but an interpersonal relationship was something beyond his comprehension.

A week a so after Jim took the boy under his wing something happened and it was quite evident the boy had committed the wrong. Jim was at his wits end to figure out how to deal with the situation. The boy freely admitted to having stolen the object and had given it back, but something had to be done.

First off, the boy was moved to the guest suite in the basement. After he’d been settled, he came up to Jim’s suite.

“Take off your clothes,” Jim demanded. He couldn’t think of anything other than be as demeaning as possible toward the boy. If love wasn’t going to work, forced submission and humiliation, much like he remembered as a boy at his grandparents’ house, might do the trick.

“What?” Ben asked.

“Take off your clothes,” Jim said in a calmer voice.

“No, why should I?” Ben asked.

“Then pack your bags, I’ll take you to the airport.”

Ben started slowly removing his clothes. For Jim, at his grandparents’, the punishment never involved anything remotely close to sex, unless his grandfather was jerking off at the thought of beating his grandson’s bare ass.

“Get on your knees,” Jim said after Ben was naked. He watched the boy do as he was told. That was, of course, a step in the right direction. Jim stepped up close to the boy so that his zipper was only inches away. “Unzip my pants and take out my cock.”

Ben looked up a Jim and there seemed to be a tear in the boy’s eye, but he did as he was told.

“We have a problem,” Jim said. “The peace and tranquility of Charles House has been totally destroyed by your immature actions. By all accounts, we should refer all of what has happened to the city prosecutor and let him handle your situation, but there are people in this house who feel you need to be given a second, third, or however many chances to improve your ways and to return to being a vital member of our family. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Ben said, meekly.

“Good, suck my dick,” Jim said.

That first time Ben wasn’t a good cocksucker. He’d probably never had, or imagined ever having, a cock in his mouth, but with ample instruction from Jim, eventually he became quite good at it. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence; just about a couple of times a week. Plus, Ben spent a lot of time in Jim’s suite, naked of course, doing housework, studying, and generally being as much as a drudge that Jim desired.

Unfortunately, Ben was a slow learner when it came to social skills. The inevitable was bound to happen and three weeks before the end of term, Ben found himself groveling at Jim’s feet.

“We have to decide right now if you’re going to be invited to come back next year,” Jim said.

“I’ll do anything,” Ben said.

“Anything?”

“Yes, I’ll do anything,” Ben said as if he knew what anything meant.

Jim had taken half a blue pill in anticipation of this and was quite ready to impose the anything both of them knew was going to happen. As he was fucking the boy, he thought back over his life trying to remember the number of times he’d been in this position with another man. Never with another boy as he hadn’t started having any kind of sex until college and that was just oral. In graduate school, there was that nice boy from Peoria who liked it up the ass, but their relationship lasted only a few months. So that was the only time he’d been on the giving end as Bobby never allowed Jim to fuck him, never. Bobby was a top, period.

Jim, though, found himself kind of liking the feeling of plugging Ben’s ass. Of course, it was all part of the domination, the need to put Ben in his place. This was the final chance, though. If the boy didn’t stop his petty criminal activities, nothing was going to save him.

“I’m very disappointed in you Ben,” Jim said as he finished massaging the boy’s shoulders. “We worked very hard last spring to turn you around, but it seems all of our work has been for naught.”

“No, sir, I want to be good,” Ben said as he got up onto his knees and turned to face Jim. “It’s just I get this feeling that I can get away with it if I try harder. It never works, of course, but it always seems something inside me wants to be bad. Do you want me to suck you?”

“Yes, but there’s been a lot on my mind, so don’t expect anything,” Jim said.

“So, you won’t be fucking me tonight,” Ben said, sounding almost disappointed.

“No, not tonight,” Jim said.

“You sound sad,” Ben said. “Is everything okay?”

“Our freshmen aren’t starting off too well,” Jim said. He watched Ben take his cock into his mouth and leaned back to enjoy the boy’s ministrations. “Casey probably has some kind of hormonal imbalance or maybe it’s a pituitary thing. Six is doing something with his mind, either with drugs or some kind of meditation thing. And, you’re still being a problem. I expected more out of you. I didn’t expect to have you in here tonight sucking me and sounding like you want me to fuck you.”

“But I like you, Jim,” Ben said after he came off Jim’s cock. “I know this is crazy because guys my age aren’t supposed to enjoy having sex with old guys like you; and, to tell you the truth, I’m not quite certain I’m as gay as you, but I enjoy making you feel good; and, well, having your dick up my ass isn’t all that great, but I know you like it. In all likelihood I probably love you.”

“Oh Christ!” Jim exclaimed.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” Ben said as he stood up. “Do you think the Charles Foundation would help me with a shrink or psychologist? I know you were trying really hard to straighten me up, but maybe we should try something else.”

“That might be arranged,” Jim said. They stood at the bed he shared with Bobby for many, many years. The boy was hard and ready. Jim knew what he wanted. “I want you to make love to me.”