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him forehand and backhand.  I m sick of your self-pity. I m sick
of your sheep s face and sad eyes. I don t give a damn where you
go, but get the hell out of my car! He shoved Nick through the
door, barely giving him time to grab his robe.
* * *
Torturo slammed the door and slumped against it for a
moment, breathing hard. He slammed both fists back into it and
shoved away. The circle remained unbroken.
He flung himself on the bunk. His father, him and Nicholas, a
poisoned abusive circle of three. All his life had revolved in threes.
He had known to come with the Show because of Alice and Dinah,
their three legs, the two girls making a three with him.
Three rows of peach trees stood behind a privy in his mind.
One row made of two and a newly filled hole and the little old gray
wooden building starting the fourth row. He wondered if they were
even still there after all this time.
Sixty years, twenty threes, lay between the peach trees and the
train and now he had his Nick. He was no better than his father had
been, taking the unwilling who feigned desire.
But Nick had taunted him tonight and he had truly lost his
temper for the first time since the barn on that hot August day.
Unlike his father, Nick had survived his anger. Torturo
breathed slowly, tempted to reach for the whiskey and knowing it
wouldn t help. Maybe the circle could be broken after all.
* * *
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Nick wrapped the robe around himself and sat on the bench in
the Backyard. He knew it was no longer possible for him to leave.
It never really had been. He still had a twenty in his billfold and his
ID. But there would be no home and no job and no life if he went.
His credit card had probably been canceled for nonpayment so he
had no way to get home. He was stuck.
He was sick of it all. The things he did with Jacob revolted him
now, when they d excited him back in August. His mind had been
given over to perversity. No matter what refinements Jacob
invented for their bed, Nick met his desire and often surpassed it.
He had rings in both nipples now, a large sapphire in his right
earlobe, and for Valentine s, it had been a reverse Prince Albert.
He shifted in the chair and stuck his hands in his pockets. Out of
habit, he rotated the ring that went into his urethra and out the top
of his cock. The silver ring and blue bead matched his frenum
ladder, the series of five barbells that ran along the bottom of his
cock.
It seemed they could not stop without Torturo breaking out the
piercing kit. What frightened Nick most was the way the mere
sight of that kit made his gut twist with arousal and his cock go
hard. The last time, he d almost come around the needle embedded
in his cock.
He didn t need much coaxing anymore, at least not at first. Just
having Jacob in the same room made him hot. He did his best to be
aroused all the time when his lover was around. He d learned the
best ways to keep his erection and his fellatio skills had improved
tremendously. But he never went down to rim Jacob or took a
mouthful of his come without suppressing a shudder at the
wickedness of the act.
He dozed off in one of the big Adirondack chairs. Strange
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thoughts, words that were not his own, had grown stronger as they
impinged on his thoughts and now insinuated themselves into his
dreams. It was the same voice that had coaxed him into the adult
show the first night, the same that spoke to him in all situations.
Had it happened back in Peculiar, he would have called it the
Holy Spirit. Now he knew, despite suspicions of blossoming
schizophrenia, it was just the voice of the Phantasmagoria. But the
rational part of his mind said it had to be insanity. He ignored the
rational part, drowning it with arousal and blunting it with work.
He ate breakfast and sat in the Backyard, waiting for
something. He wasn t sure what. He listened to the Show, and now
the voice had a name. He barely noticed Hannah when she sat on
the bench across from him.
 Nick, you should go see Jacob.
 I don t want to. We re fighting. The words sounded petulant
even to him.
 That s not good. Hannah smoothed her mustache a bit.  He
does love you, you know.
 Bullshit, Nick snapped. Hannah scowled as he continued.
 He s a psychopath and an abuser. He s a man. There is no love in
him.
 You re wrong, Nick, she said, then swallowed hard as
Torturo came up behind Nick and laid a hand on his shoulder.
 Just because there s none in you doesn t mean we re all the
same, he said, bending to kiss Nick s ear.
 You can t love something that doesn t love you back.
Hannah, seeing that a long-standing argument was taking up
again, slipped off to her own car.
Torturo sat down behind Nick on the bench in the Backyard.
 You can. But it s painful.
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Nick twisted out of his arms.  It s stupid to even try. He
turned to face Torturo, finding this went better when the other
wasn t nuzzling him.
 It can t be helped. The plaintive yearning in the words
tugged at Nick, but he just frowned.
 Of course it can. Love is just emotions and actions. Actions
can be stopped and emotions are nothing more than muddy,
deceptive thinking.
 I like my emotions. I don t want to be cold like you. You are
as divorced from emotion as I am from pain. Physical pain,
anyway, Torturo amended.
Nick s frown deepened at the reminder that he caused a lot of
emotional pain.
 I m not cold, Nick protested.  I m just aware that feelings are
deceptions.
Torturo smirked a little and stroked Nick s hair.  I live with
you. I know you re cold.
Nick stood up and walked toward the train car.  We can change
that, he fired over his shoulder.
 We have to, Torturo agreed as he followed Nick.
Nick marched inside, took a carpetbag from the closet and
started throwing his personal effects into it.  All right. He took a
single blanket from the cupboard and draped it over the top.
 You can t leave, you know. Torturo sat down and started
lighting his pipe for something to do. Nick saw the fury just under
the blasé surface.
 No, but you don t have to live with me, either. I m cold. I m
lousy in bed. And all I do is hurt you. He headed out the door.
Torturo set the pipe aside and caught him, sweeping him into a
kiss that threatened to melt Nick s knees, one that went straight to
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his groin and made his cock twitch. He bit Torturo instead of
kissing back. He had to do this, had to make the break now.
 Nicholas&  Torturo wiped the blood away, staining the
immaculate linen of his handkerchief.
Nick searched for the words that would make it final.  Go fuck
yourself. I m sure you re capable of it. I ve got some space in one
of the cars. I ll see you around. He marched out with no real idea
of where he planned to go.
* * *
Nick made himself comfortable on the pallet he d done up in
the prop car, between the case of pickup ducks and the locker of
BB guns. It didn t feel right to sleep without Torturo wrapped
around him. The vaguely mildewed vinyl smell of the ducks made
him miss Torturo s aftershave even more. No. He wasn t going
back and that was final.
The train lurched and he felt the heaviness of the hibernation
steal over him. As was their habit, he waited to feel the soft kiss on
his ear and the hard cock lying along the crack of his ass. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]