Liebestod

Liebestod

i.

All in black -- silk turtle neck, chamois trousers, black riding boots -- Marc was pensive as he dismounted. He handed the horse's reins to the groom and walked up the path, gravel crunching under his feet, to his house. The night's deepening blue pressed up against the window panes. The autumn winds ruffled the rusty leaves, shook them off the trees.

Trent, he said, hardly raising his voice. The young man was at his side.

Sir.

You have served me proudly.

Yes, Sir.

And although you know I have the power to coerce obedience, it has been willingly that you have submitted to me.

Yes, sir. I am yours willingly.

And you pledge to be always.

I do.

Kneel.

Trent knelt, head bowed, eyes lowered.

Trent had been Marc's boy since he was fourteen, three years after his parents' death. Marc took him off the street after he had run away from an orphanage and adopted him. He had grown through service into a well-knit, handsome young man: poised, witty, intelligent, and graceful. He wore his indoors uniform, black microfiber boxer briefs, a leather collar and silver rings in his nipples. His body was shaven, and so was his face. Marc had him keep the hair on his head, thick wild black hair which he disciplined with a gel that made it gleam.

Lift your head. Look into my eyes.

Theirb eyes blocked and Marc raised Trent to his feet. He held the boy in his arms drew the breath out of him with kisses. Trent became hungry, insatiable with desire.

You will never be satisfied, Marc said. You will always know there is a part of you in me that you will never be able to possess except when I possess you. You know this is so. You can feel it is true.

I can feel it, Sir, and know it is so, Trent repeated. Interminable longing to be possessed by you will always haunt me. I know that. My desire to submit to you, to obey you, to exist within you, is endless.

You must obey me in everything. You cannot do otherwise.

I have always known that, Sir.

I am going to marry.

Trent gazed without moving a muscle.

You fly to Seattle tomorrow, meet April and escort her back. These are the tickets. This is a credit card. Use it as you need it. Your flight is out of Logan tonight. Lester will drive you. I won't be joining you. I am going with Michael to see Tannheuser tonight.

ii.

Trent sat still, sat quietly, in his room, his eyes closed. He let a little more of himself melt into oblivion.

iii.

Logan was crowded; that was exciting. Trent got winked at and he winked back. One guy struck up a conversation with him and sat in the seat next to him on the plane and rested his hand over Trent's cock and balls throughout the flight. Trent smiled as he watched the sea of clouds beneath them and the dome of azure that was everything else; the guy was in heaven.

It was raining when he arrived. They kissed delicately at parting without exchanging anything besides good-byes. He stopped in a men's store in the terminal's promenade and bought a trench coat. iv.

She was gorgeous. He couldn't deny it. But his admiration was poisoned. He felt something very close to animal hatred, but he couldn't tell what it was. He bristled. It shot through him. But his discipline was deep and natural and he took command of himself.

She knew who he was before he could introduce himself.

Please, she said, holding the door ajar.

I'm...Trent, he said as she took him by the hand and led him into the apartment.

I know. I've seen your picture.

You have? his eyes widening.

You must be hungry, she said. v.

There was something else he hadn't expected; she was younger than he'd imagined. She was much nearer his age than Marc's.

How old are you? he said.

She looked at him with limpid eyes.

How old you think?

Nineteen, he said with approximation in his voice.

I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted; she smiled without guile and with warmth. I'm twenty-three. How old are you?

I'm twenty-five, he said.

He laughed and rubbed his forehead in the center with the fingertips of his right hand.

What is it? She smiled.

I don't know, he said, grinning, surprised. Then he brushed the air with his hand and waved what ever it was away.

Come, she said, taking him by the shoulder. You ought to freshen up. She led him to the bathroom and indicated the shower. Then we can get a bite. You like sushi?

Yeah, I like sushi.

Good, she said. Now shower. vi.

She waited until he came out of the shower to slip into the loosely flowing red silk shirtwaist she wore so that he could see her only in her lacey black underwear, high heels and silver ankle bracelet. She was bronze, tapering, perfect. vii.

They strolled along a crowded street. April hesitated when she saw the gypsy storefront and then insisted they go in.

The incense was nearly overpowering. The gypsy knew her role and played it perfectly. She was simultaneously warm and forbidding, demanded the five dollars up front. Then she took a quick intake of breath and looked solemnly, frightened almost, at them. She'd stopped playing.

I fear for you, she said. I can say no more. I give you the money back. I can do nothing. Go. viii.

This was strange indeed and it made April's heart beat with nervous excitement.

What was that all about? she said.

Trent grinned. At the next table a lean guy in chino pants, desert boots, a loose beige sweater and an old brown velvet jacket was poring over a paperback of Kant's Introduction to the Metaphysics of Morals and lit a joint. Trent took a deep breath.

You want some actual stuff or do you make it a habit to live vicariously.

He cocked his head and closed an eye and looked at her funny.

What's that supposed to mean?

I'll tell you one day. Here, she said, lighting a joint of her own and handing it to him after taking a drag first herself.

It was strong and he began to shake as if he were chilly.

Relax, she said. Nothing's gonna harm you.

I'm not sure, he answered. Not at all.

Now it's my turn, she said thrusting her head forward. What's that supposed to mean?

Let's get out of here, he said.

They walked for awhile in the balmy September and began remembering New York City, where they both had lived once upon a time. Their talk became lost and they began to speculate about visiting the city -- who knew when? -- and going again to places they had wandered through alone when they had been trying to imagine something that had to happen but they were afraid never would.

She wanted him to take her hand.

You hold yourself together very well, she said.

No I don't, he answered. ix.

The plane was diverted to New York. Logan had been shut down and would stay shut down for another week. It was a government operation, and while all the big shots said it was essential, no one would say why. Lots of things were like that in the United States at that time. Everything was on the verge of being scary and emergencies kept emerging. And the only explanation was security but everyone became more insecure.

At Sheridan Square there was a great crowd of people demonstrating against pornography under a huge banner of a bloody and flayed Christ being hammered onto a cross.

April took his arm and shuddered. This isn't the Greenwich Village I remember, she said.

A lot has changed since you were here, Trent said. The Lion's Head is gone, and the Stonewall is a monumental icon.

They were heading toward Gay Street where Marc kept an apartment in a building he owned. He rented the rest.

Night had fallen and they sat by the window by candle light at an oak table eating lobster, drinking champagne and smoking pot.

They were looking at each other as dinner companions do, but then their eyes became fixated, locked together, and it became something more. An icy wave was building inside Trent, and then it broke and he was flooded with heat. They were no longer sitting at the table. As if directed by a force not their own, they had risen and joined in an embrace and now were tearing kisses with violent passion from their painful depths, healing themselves by advancing deeper into the malady.

He ran his hand beneath her skirt and up her leg and found the heat beneath the lace and wove his fingers into her as they tore more violently at each other, lips and teeth masticating love as if it were a thing too hard to be digested otherwise. His cock was throbbing hard and pushed inside her as she grabbed it with her soul and cried out mine. x.

They could hardly look at each other the next morning, and before they had a chance to say a word, while she was still bathing, he threw on a loose pair of dungarees, a sweatshirt, a beat pair of motorcycle boots, an old worn black leather jacket. Unshaven and hair tousled he ran down the three flights onto Gay Street, jogged around the corner to Greenwich Avenue and went into the Peacock for an espresso.

His heart was beating and he couldn't figure out what he'd say to Marc.

You can't get away from it that easily, she said sitting next to him, signaling the waiter for a coffee of her own and then placing her palm over the back of his hand.

He winced as a bolt of excitement shot through him. Their eyes met.

And then they were gone, lost.

They finished their coffee quickly and got out of there and walked to the Morton Street pier holding each other's hand, oblivious to everything but the beautiful world which enveloped them and the air which had become palpable to their senses. xi.

They phoned Marc that night and told him how they had been rerouted to New York had arrived yesterday and were at the Gay Street apartment. Marc was miffed that he hadn't heard from them sooner. He told them to get a flight to Boston right away. The airport was shut, Trent reminded him.

Rent a car.

We'll be there in a few days.

Marc was getting dizzy.

I'll take the train down, he said. I have a meeting this afternoon, and tickets for Parsifal tonight. I'll get a morning train tomorrow.

To say they slept together again before Marc arrived would not convey the flood of passion they were beaten by, and the desperate electricity that had usurped their reason. xii.

Why do you shave your body? she asked, lightly brushing the smooth skin of his arm pit, her left hand capped over one of his hard male breast mounds.

Marc likes it.

You were his lover.

I still am.

What about me?

And before

He could answer

She pressed her lips to his

And her tongue

Penetrated into the

Cavern of his mouth

And she pressed

Into that kiss

The entire composition

Of her being

A seductive poison

Charged through his veins

Alerted the synapses of his nerves

And his mind went slack

And his entire body stiffened

And now

She said

Drawing back from the kiss

You are only mine

His eyes were dazed

It is

He whispered

As you say xiii.

When Marc arrived, they were prepared. But they did not succeed in seeming indifferent to each other. Their stifled desire came out as a mutual irritation, and that was confirmation enough.

Marc was furious.

He lit a perfumed cigarette, and as the room filled with smoke, and the Liebestod from Tristan whispered behind them, Marc began the induction. They were both limp in their chairs, and Marc put in each of them a great fear of the other. xiv.

Trent did not know where he was or how he had gotten there. It was a subway station. A policeman was shaking him, demanding his identification. He had no wallet. He had nothing. He smelled bad. He was, he realized, in urine stained kaki trousers, torn canvas shoes without socks, a grimy t-shirt. He put his hand to his forehead, felt the sting of a wound, and saw blood on his fingers when he lowered his hand.

In the dim recesses of his mind he remembered April, but just barely, and he felt the shadow of an indefinable longing.

They jailed him for vagrancy and released him in the condition they found him after three days.

He wandered through the Lower East Side, across Astor Place, and into the West Village until he reached the Jefferson Market Library next to the garden where the Women's House of Detention used to stand before Andrea Dworkin got it torn down. Why had he thought of her now? He was dizzy but made his way over to Seventh Avenue, going along Greenwich. He seemed to be looking for something, but he couldn't figure out what. But like clockwork at eight-thirty he was standing in front of the United Cigar Store on the corner of Seventh and Christopher. He was shivering.

Come with me, a man wearing a trench coat said, and though he had never seen him before, without a thought, he obeyed. Their path led back to the brownstone on Gay Street. xv.

Trent did not recognize April, nor did she recognize him. They looked at each other without seeing, without knowing, their eyes fixed on the blankness that each had become.

April was in a loosely fitting cabbage green smock, barefoot and disheveled. She was squatting in the middle of an empty room without freedom of motion, as if she were chained to a rock.

Trent was not ten feet from her when he was seized by a dryness in the throat and an inability to move nearer to her. He collapsed and lay on his left side almost in a fetal position.

A gong sounded. Marc spoke. They knew each other and what had happened.

Because you scorned the trust

I placed in ones so dear

I release myself from you

and leave you to yourselves

to gaze and want

but never able to draw near

That fire which burned within each treacherous heart

Now becomes a burning boundary

Keeping you apart

Their eyes locked. Their gazes froze. Marc withdrew. They could not speak, or move, or turn away.

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