Jason 2

The story of Jason and his dad continues.

 

Jason

 

Part 2

 

It was only months later that he was able to see the changes that had come upon him. At the time Jason had simply slipped into new patterns of behaviour and being, without standing back to analyse them. It was as if he had somehow been hypnotized so that attitudes, deportment, roles that, in the past, he would have hesitated over, if not actually balked at, had come to seem a part of his own being, without him having noticed the transition. Everything that had happened to him had come about slowly, as if inevitably. And he had no feeling other than that this was right and proper and the way it should it be.

 

Thus, questions that he might have asked himself or doubts that he might have had simply weren’t there. A saner and less mesmerized Jason might have asked – is there not too great an age difference? And what are the implications of this difference? And why do I feel I have no will of my own but am happy to do exactly and only what I am told to do? Why do I feel I am controlled and yet totally free?

 

But these are the questions he was not asking. Instead, he was entirely content to live in the moment, not thinking of the life he had left or where his life was now going. He felt simply this huge contentment that his life appeared to be organized for him, that he felt safe and supported, and that he had come to a point where the idea of questioning what was happening to him was totally irrelevant. He had found that happiness that poets seek, where past and future simply do not exist and there is only the eternal now.

 

Later, in months to come, although the dream was still a reality, he did take stock and note what he had been and where had come from. And even in a sense he perceived dimly HOW it had happened. Then he could remember, for example, waking up in the big bed and feeling arms around him, felling protected and loved. And how, when he emerged from the shower, his new life had started with David passing clothes to him, not his own clothes, but David’s, simply saying. Here, try this…’ or ‘I think this will look good on you…’ And he had done it without hesitation, not yet feeling that he was being created anew by this older man.

 

Then little rituals developed. David liked to stay up late, sometimes after Jason had already gone to bed – and this meant that he lay longer in the mornings. Jason took a special pleasure in watching him as he slept, looking for signs of a consciousness coming awake; watching for all the little signs of a man stirring in his sleep and preparing to come alive to face another day. Then would Jason slip away to the kitchen and turn on the espresso machine, squeeze oranges, make the coffee and arrive – a special pleasure if it really was simultaneous – beside the bed as David finally opened his eyes. It was not as if he had been ordered to do this but somehow he felt so natural assuming the role of servant around the older man. It was not, after all, as if it were a one-sided deal… because David took charge from his waking moments and Jason knew that he could relax and feel supported and cared for. It was not only about what he wore – he made no decisions about that any more and now waited to hear what he should wear or be handed clothes that belonged to David. He loved this – the feeling of being moulded into exactly the kind of boy that David wanted so much.

 

Similarly when they went to restaurants, or cocktail bars he had no choice. David ordered for him – and he began to discern a pattern in what was being ordered. It went hand in hand with his visits to the gym – David controlled when he went and for how long. He took an interest in the number of reps, he looked at Jason for all the signs of maintenance and development and if he did not fully control this, he certainly made suggestions. So he later saw that his food was controlled, his alcohol intake, and that there was a balance between consistently eating healthy food and having an occasional indulgence.

 

As for sex… this could happen at any time of the day or night. Now whether David could read his mind or not - and Jason certainly would never have initiated sex - the older man’s desire to have sex always seemed to coincide with a strong desire on Jason’s part. And in truth he could not call it ‘having sex’ but rather making love as there was nothing urgent or desperate or animal about their lovemaking but rather the coming together of two bodies in deep tenderness. David loved exploring the contours and the muscles of the younger man – and Jason was only too happy to reciprocate. Thus they knew the details of one another’s bodies and all the zones and spots that were calculated to drive each crazy with desire and love; and that special moment when a tongue, the softest stroking of a hand or finger, reached its goal. So their lovemaking was slow and sensual and unhurried, building and building to explosive climaxes after hours that left both of them exhausted and replete.

 

Yet for all the sense of patterns in their lives, of rituals, of codes of behaviours, of unspoken rules, David retained the ability to surprise him.

 

So it was that one afternoon, Jason returned from the gym to find the flat empty. But an envelope with his name on it lay, sealed, on the hall table where they both always laid the keys to the apartment when they came home.

 

This was a formality new to Jason and his heart was beating furiously when he saw it. It looked so cold and formal even though his name was hand-written, as indeed was the note when he finally steeled himself to open it. He did not know what he feared, just that the novelty unnerved him.

 

“Jason,

 

I want you to go to the bedroom and change into the clothes that you will find there. Then walk to the Hotel Adlon by the Brandenburg Gate. It will take about 40 minutes at a leisurely pace. So leave at 18.20. In any case, I want you to enter the hotel at 19.00 precisely. I will be in the cocktail bar, which is directly ahead of you when you enter. DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE ME! Sit down at a table a little distance away but facing me. I will take charge from that point.

 

David

xxx”

 

Jason rushed to the bedroom to find, laid out on the bed, one of David’s Boss suits, a pale blue shirt, carefully ironed, a silk tie, sheer black socks, dress shoes, cufflinks.

 

Although it was now only 17.00 Jason could not resist tearing his clothes off and dressing immediately. He hesitated as to whether he would splash cologne on his face and under his armpits but as he had not been asked to do this, he did not. He knew anyway that David had a particular love for clean body odours often saying that he could become drunk on ‘Jason smell’. Drawing on the clothes excited him, not just because they were David’s and the thought of David wearing them excited him, but because of the sensuality of the fabrics as they caressed his body. No underpants! And of course he would not dream of wearing something he had not been asked to wear. But when the trousers were on he did then wonder how he could possibly conceal the erection that tented the trousers so spectacularly.

 

Tying the tie was a problem – he had been taught to tie a Windsor knot but now, in his state of nervous desire, he bodged it a number of times before he got it right – and a few more times before he was happy that the tip of the tie was exactly the right length.

 

He did not know why he felt so excited. He had no idea what lay in store – if it were to be simply a drink in the bar of the Adlon then why not go there together? And why when he arrived was he not to acknowledge him? Of course he was curious but he had this thumping of his heart as if something illicit were about to happen and although he did not know what it was, he knew he had a part to play and would he be up to it?

 

And what on earth could it possibly be? His mind ran riot imagining all sorts of dreadful scenarios – was it criminal in any way? Was it a scam? He trusted David totally and would go through with anything asked of him but he felt the very first stirrings of uneasiness since he had met David in the art gallery in London. How much had happened since then! But nothing to suggest he was involved with someone who would break the law or engage in anything underhand or illegal.

 

He still had an hour before he set off. He tried to calm himself, tried to meditate but restlessness and nerves took over. He poured himself a cognac – it was far too early in the day for that and David was surprisingly Puritan about the time for a first drink but in this case, in this moment, he really felt he needed it.

 

From time to time he would get up and restlessly pace through the room. The worst of it was that he was sweating as a result of his heightened state. He took the jacket off and saw to his dismay that the armpits of the shirt were damp with sweat. He rushed to the bathroom and plugged in the hairdryer and in ten minutes or so everything seemed fine again. Finally at 18.10 and conscious of not obeying David to the letter, which gave him a momentary pang of conscience and remorse, he left the flat, locked it behind him and set off to the Brandenburg Gate.

 

It was a fine late summer evening. Not too hot though Berliners were inclined to rush into shorts and tee shirts at the first hint of sunshine. The cafés and pavements were busy with people, all dressed informally. Even the few men who were in suits had loosened ties, and set aside jackets so that he felt in some way terribly exposed and prominent, standing out from the crowd. He felt that everyone he passed looked at him and seemed to see him as someone who was falsely dressed, who did not usually dress like this, who was in some obscure way masquerading as a gentleman. But he had always felt exposed when he was in David’s company and when once he had voiced it, David had replied ‘But of course everyone is looking at you – you are the most handsome man on the street.’

 

How he wished David were with him now!

 

He was walking too fast, he was perspiring again, he must slow down. So he tried to concentrate on the buildings when he finally stepped on to the beginnings of Unter den Linden. He knew now all the buildings that lined this famous boulevard. He could not help reflecting on the difference between it now and as it must have been the night that Hitler came to power and thousands of Nazis had marched along it, lit by torches. Now in the early evening sunshine such horrors seemed a part of a totally different world. Now all was tranquil, full of tourists of all nations, black white, oriental, all feeling as much at home as he had from the moment he arrived in the city.

 

Still too fast. He slowed again as he saw the Adlon in the distance. He had not been in it before. David had pointed it out to him on his first tour of the city. He saw the balcony where Michael Jackson had dangled that child… He knew that although rebuilt relatively recently it had a glorious history. By now he was in front of it. He checked his watch and saw that by dint of stopping and slowing and dawdling, that he had made it exactly on time. He felt small and slight and insecure as he stepped towards the door but a liveried doorman saluted him and held it open for him. People were passing in and out and even here he felt conspicuously overdressed – everyone seemed to be in the same state of undress as those he had seen at the pavement cafes. He saw a massive chandelier ahead, a staircase, at the foot of which, tucked discretely to one side, a man in tuxedo was playing a baby grand piano. He seemed to be the only person other than Jason who was formally dressed. Except… yes, there was David, sitting in the middle of the bar, a long drink in front of him, reading a newspaper. Jason looked to catch his eye but found no returning look. He moved into the bar and found a table a few tables away from David.

 

Now what?

 

He looked around him at the other tables. The bar was only about a third full. There was a party of American tourists next to him, poring over a map and a guidebook of the city. A few tables to his right sat an elderly gentleman – surely in his early 70s – with a young woman who really did look like a hooker. Long blonde hair, too luxuriant to be real, a tight blouse showing an inordinate amount of cleavage, even for summer, a very short leather mini-skirt, and high heels that were surely intended for no more than a dash of a few metres to a waiting car. If she were a whore then she was a good one because she was giving the old gent all of her attention, gazing lovingly into his eyes, holding his hand gently under the table. He looked to see if a waiter was coming – what should he do if the waiter approached him?

 

He continued to look around him idly, sweating a little, the nerves having returned at actually finding himself in this bizarre scenario. Everyone in the bar seemed to be looking at him with curiosity; all except David who ignored him. Jason felt terribly alone and vulnerable.

Then he did see a waiter approach – but he was stopped by David who said something to him and the waiter turned and went back to the bar. A few minutes later he came back but this time to Jason’s table, and deposited a large tall cocktail in front of him.

 

‘The gentleman at this table,’ he said, indicating David, ‘has bought you this drink. With his compliments, Sir.’

 

Jason blushed furiously. It was as if all eyes were on him, all people believing that something was going on here that they should pay attention to. Jason looked up and saw the ‘hooker’ smiling sweetly at him as if in complicity. ‘So you are on the game like me?’ her look seemed to say.

 

The party of Americans, too, were no longer studying their maps and guidebook but looking attentively at him as if to follow the next act in this little drama.

 

Jason stole a look at David and saw him looking back – and smiling. He winked and Jason felt the gazes of the neighbouring table now fixed on David – but he resumed his reading.

 

Jason gulped at the drink. What was expected of him now? What was he to do? How could he receive instructions? From time to time he raised his head and looked at David and sometimes his look was returned and sometimes it was not.

 

He was caught on the horns of a terrible dilemma. If he did not look at David, he could not possibly receive any ‘directions’ or ‘instructions’ but if he did look at him, increasingly it seemed to him that he was coming across to the diligent watchers as a rent boy, someone who was trying to solicit an older man for sex, for money. He felt like a high-class whore in his designer suit and professional appearance.

 

And each time he looked his neighbours would stop what they were doing and look too.

 

And then, abruptly, David got up and turning his back, moved from the table. He left by the far corner of the bar and then, at the entrance to the toilets, he turned and signaled to Jason to follow him. Almost stumbling, Jason got up to comply, all too conscious of the looks that accompanied him. He moved as if in a daze to the toilets. He pushed open the door and entered and there was David, smiling broadly at him. David grabbed him, spun him around and pinned him against the wall as he began to land passionate kisses on Jason’s astonished mouth. But Jason responded with equal passion – suddenly loving the kinkiness of this scenario and finding the love pouring out on him to be a reward for his nerves and fears. David pulled him into a stall, and locked the door behind them. Then lunged at Jason with renewed passion. Jason felt his jacket being roughly removed, his trousers being slipped down, felt himself being turned around and a finger lubing his ass. Bending over the toilet he felt David enter him, and then fuck him, roughly, almost brutally. He thrust back and found the rhythm, his head straining round and backwards to kiss the mouth that sought his…

 

Their passion spent, both returned to the bar, having freshened themselves up a little. But just before they left the toilet, David stopped him and casually pulled a corner of Jason’s shirt out of the trousers. ‘I want everyone to KNOW what you have been up to!’ he said with a grin.

 

The watchers’ mouths were agape as Jason picked up his cocktail and joined David at his table.

 

But he cared nothing for them anymore – he felt exultant not just from the passionate and wild sex in the toilet but at having gone through with this elaborate charade. He could not stop smiling and almost giggling. So much so that the faux blonde hooker leaned forwards and said to him, ‘Honey. You are one lucky boy.’