Page 16 of Torn
Walt, visibly shaken, moved to stand near the draperies, almost hidden behind them. He reminded me of Boo Radley at the end ofTo Kill a Mockingbird. I think he was trying to make himself invisible.
Boutros sauntered over to the other side of the bed. He sat opposite me and leaned over to light a cigarette. Holding it between his teeth, he looked over his shoulder to examine the sheets.
“Is it okay?” I asked. “Do you feel safe to lie down?” I was gradually getting my breath back. My heart rate and pulse were slowly but surely returning to normal. The world was coming back into focus. I wondered what to do about Walt.
“Well, there’s noobviousevidence on the sheets of recent anal penetration.”
“No skid marks or blood?”
“Precisely,” Boutros said. “So I guess I can sleep here tonight.”
He looked over at Walt, cowering in the corner. “Where’s he going to sleep?”
Walt, red-faced and trembling a bit, moved out of the corner to begin gathering up his clothes and getting himself dressed. I had to admit, I felt a little sorry for him.
Walt spoke to Boutros, “I’m going. I’m going. Sorry!”
Boutros lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, toward which he blew a massive cloud of smoke. “Now darling, don’t get yourself into a snit. You’re welcome to stay, but I’m afraid either you or Ricky will have to sleep on the floor. I’m not giving up my side of the bed. I’m exhausted.” He rolled over on his side and then extended a hand. “Boutros BinBin. So pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Walt stared down at the hand. “Is that your real name?”
Oh, that’s rich, I thought.
“It’s as real as I say it is, sweetheart.”
They shook hands, and Walt appeared to relax a little. He was dressed now. I couldn’t believe that it had been only a few minutes ago that he’d been naked, sweating, and inside me.
“Who are you?” Boutros asked. He glanced at me. “Or haven’t you gotten around to exchanging more than bodily fluids yet?”
I rolled my eyes. “His name is Walt. Walt Whitman.”
Boutros took a drag. “Sure it is.”
“I really should be going,” Walt said, a sickly smile affixed to those oh-so-handsome features.
“I’ll walk you out.” I started toward the door.
“Like that?” Boutros asked.
It was then I realized I hadn’t bothered to put any clothes on. I sighed, stooped down to snatch my blue plaid boxers off the floor, and struggled into them. I didn’t think anyone below would have a problem with my attire, even without the boxers.
Once we’d made it through the revelers in the lounge, by now down to a dedicated half-dozen, Walt and I stood outside in the relatively cool night air on the front stoop.
“Tonight was more than just hot,” I told Walt. “If it doesn’t sound too corny, it was kind of magical.”
He gave me a quick kiss and said softly, “It doesn’t sound corny. And I agree.”
We stood together like that for a while, enjoying the wan illumination cast by a crescent moon and the briny breeze rising up now and again. We both, I suspected, needed some cooling off.
“I hope you don’t have to go too far to get to where you’re staying.”
“This time of night, it won’t be bad.”
“I can walk you to your car.” Suddenly, I didn’t want to let go of the tenuous connection we’d forged.
“You don’t need to. I’m looking forward to the walk, when Brighton is still for a change. Really, I’m okay. I need the walk to allow that werewolf I became to fully get back inside.”
“I liked that werewolf being fully inside. Oh yes, I did. Very much. Please sir, can I have some more?”
