Into the Light

4. Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

If I don't get to do something, I'll be going out of my mind in no time at all. Heavens, I'm fidgety. Could use a drink or two. Or a cigarette. Or preferably both, several of them, in rapid succession.

I'm halfway to the big living room, Chaim's favorite abode for lounging, when I remember that the drinks cabinets are locked nowadays. As incredible as it sounds, they are - all of them. Locked. The nerve of that bastard, my friend.

He's got one key, his butler has the other. Not even the young servant, whatshisnameagain, has been entrusted with one. Too bad; him I just might manage to harass into a corner and bully into handing it over, but Dalen? No way in hell. The man is taller than me, and I'm pretty sure that right now he'd have no trouble throwing me over a shoulder and just hauling me back into my own room. The young one, he's a nice enough looking boy, but I wouldn't cross Dalen. I'm not suicidal.

I wonder if he screws the young guy when they're not busy looking after our welfare?

Hm. Well, at least I know where the stash of cigarettes is. As expected, the door behind which the drinks are lurking is firmly closed. But the cigs, now, there they are.

Not my own chosen brand, but they're good anyway. Oh, the sweet sting of smoke flowing into my lungs... and the blissful numbness that seeps into me. My hands nearly stop shaking, I close my eyes not to see them.

I don't like the look of my wrist, the bones sticking out, the veins showing on the back of the hand. They remind me of the way I look. I don't like that, either. I know my cheeks are sunken in, my skin is not olive but simply sallow, my nose and chin way too sharp. I'm a far cry from the suave smooth operator of not so awfully long ago.

Most of my everyday wardrobe has migrated here, and every single garment is just hanging on me. The dark satin trousers that used to look like they were painted on me, they are only moderately loose now. I don't like looking into the mirror, and that's why I'm letting the young servant shave me. Not because I wouldn't trust my hand with the razor; no, when he shaves me I don't have to see myself.

Razor... I definitely don't want any accidents with the razor, either. Half a thought makes me bathe in cold sweat. I don't want to die, especially not in that way. I'm afraid of dying, and I'm afraid of blood. I don't know what I want, but I know I don't want to die. I want Chaim not to let go of me.

Right now I also want another cigarette. One won't go a long way towards calming me. A bundle of nerves, well, yes. Can't help it, though. So I need the cigs.

Then I see him, before he even notices me. Oh, I do understand what Chaim sees in him. Such a pretty face, large eyes, dark curls. I have to say those clothes do justice to his narrow hips and pert little ass, too. Snugly fitting trousers, over them a shirt in 'Demieni style - lots of loose silk, long tight cuffs nearly up to the elbow, and the whole collected under the broad sash belt around his waist. He does look delectable. Damn him.

And such a full mouth, even when it opens into a dissatisfied 'oh' before pulling into a tight line.

"What're you doing here?"

"Smoking." I puff a blue cloud towards him. "Since I can't have anything else, then at least a cigarette."

"You smoke too much." He curls up into an armchair. He's going out of his way to prove to me, and especially to himself, that he's keeping his promise to Chaim: he's trying to be nice to me. How utterly irritating, and doubly so as it seems I can't forget that Chaim extracted the same promise from me. That I'd be nice to Kim. Fuck you, Chaim, now I can't even think of him as 'the toyboy' without practically seeing your dark brows pull into a displeased frown. What've you done to me? I thought I couldn't possibly be guilted into anything, and look at me now.

I look at Kim. He looks back at me, sitting sideways in the armchair, knees pulled up. He's got such slimly muscular legs. I can see them wrapped around Chaim's waist, both of them naked... do I envy him? Don't I envy him... He's not happy about this at all, but he's going along because Chaim wants it - and so am I. That's too much similarity between us, if you ask me.

"Open the window," he says.

"What? And let all the sweet smoke escape?" I take the last drag and crush the butt into an ashtray. Kim sighs, gets up and goes to crack the window open.

"Are you looking forward to the trip?" I must distract myself. My gaze is transfixed on his ass, and I really don't want that. He turns around and folds his arms, leans that firm bottom against the windowsill.

"To Dirna? Definitely." He cocks his head. "What about you?"

Oh - an attempt at small talk... and curse upon me, I find myself automatically playing along. "Maybe." That should be noncommittal enough. I am looking forward to it, in profound dread.

"We've looked for more information," he goes on, obviously warming to the topic. "Why it's such a popular holiday resort, and what one can do there."

"I suppose it's got to have some attractions." Though I can't really understand what, for someone from Uman. I mean, for goodness' sake, this is the capitol. Why go anywhere from here?

"Sure it has!" Oh boy, he's getting positively bouncy. "There's lots of concerts, theater, art, all kinds of events, you can go sailing, riding, to the beach, restaurants..." Now, was that a sly sideways glance in my direction? "And it's the most popular place for gays anywhere in Dorelion."

"Meaning?" I understand even less.

"I'm not quite sure." He looks a little flushed and slightly defensive. "But that's what we've read everywhere. And we'll find out soon enough."

Oh boy. Why did you have to remind me that the day when we'll pack ourselves and our luggage into a carriage and drive away, to spend in said carriage a few weeks, is indeed growing nigh? There goes the slightly woozy feeling of carelessness I managed to achieve a moment ago. Another cigarette, please, and right now. Kim makes a face.

"Don't glare at me like that, sugar. Chaim smokes, too, and you even let him kiss you."

"Less than he used to," he retorts.

"Which one - smokes less, or kisses less?" I leer at him.

"Smokes less, kisses more." Slightly defiant.

I clench my teeth together to stay silent and inhale deeply. Don't rub it in, baby, it's not wise. We both know you've got in your bed the most gorgeous man to be found on either side of the Tima mountains, and I just might want to try and see if he couldn't be persuaded to stray.

"Would you want to play billiards?"

Was that now a peace offering? But it's not a half bad idea. Would at least give my hands something to do. "With you?"

"Chaim's still in town." He shrugs.

"I'll wipe the table with you," I tell him, and I bloody well will do exactly that. I've even wiped the table with Chaim more times than I care to remember, and he's pretty damn good.

"Oh, I'm sure you will," Kim says airily. "So does Chaim, but I enjoy it nevertheless."

You sure know how to rob a man of all his fun, baby. Can't I find any way to make you less cheerful? I'll have to think about it, right after the game.