Despite the ever-growing shadow of doom that loomed just there beyond said horizon, I struggled out of bed and into awareness because of little more than the need to relieve my bladder. The bathroom offered me a harsh reality; flesh sagging, hair graying and decaying with age I sat on the same throne as kings and gods and rock stars. It did nothing to dampen my growing harvest of inure.
But still, I could hear the soft rumblings just beyond the fringe of light that encroached upon the darkened bedroom, the soft tell-tale sounds of slumber in which my salvation still slept, a little more than half the age of my decrepity and thrice as shallow. Just the opportunity to bask in the fading glow of my years and wisdom and, more than likely, my wealth, seemed to satisfy him enough.
It was still with this same self-satisfied funk that I found my robe caressing the back of the door and shrugged it on for the sake of what modesty I know not, for modesty had ever been my elusive unicorn, shining and promising but temptingly out of reach. I padded through the bedroom, pausing to gaze at the masculine perfection that hugged (and drooled upon) his pillow in sweet slumber, which, same as the unicorn, thus eluded me. The more earthly demands of my wretched waistline propelled me forward, lest I drop what bit of the robe I was actually wearing and scale Mount PerfectAss for yet another assault.
Coffee is my good friend. We have known each other since my fleeting youth and always it has stood by me in my finer hours of need. One does not consider a plant worthy of worship, nor the unlikely green bean produced on hillsides in tropical climates deity-like material, but this fine brown dust, this arabican gold, has brought the world to its knees. For no one, prince or pauper alike, could face the superfluous demands of the rising sun without something fortifying bubbling in their veins. Ah sweet dark nectar! How I wish it was possible to become one with thee instead of one with Theo, who slumbers still and while enjoyable to be one with does not inspire much vigor the next morning.
As I digressed to addressing more pressing concerns, such as agents, taxes, and fashion, my pot gently dripped away bathing the kitchen in its heavenly scents and bringing forth the eternal question: bagel or muffin? It is here Theo decides to join me, very fetching in his impish grin and little else. His sleep-tousled coif dark and shaggy and brushing his forehead and down into his eyes. He crosses the linoleum to me on bare feet and presses his lips to my forehead.
"Hey Nigel, you making coffee?" He murmurs in dulcet tones.
He is so plainly adorable that I cannot hold his need to state the obvious against him.
"Yes," I say, magnanimous in my robe, "did I wake you? I didn't mean to."
"No," he says sleepy and heavy as he leans his frame against me, "the coffee did, I could smell it brewing." He toys with a lock of my fading blonde hair and yawns and presses me against the counter.
"Oh," I say, lost in his nearness and finding words difficult to form, why is it my libido robs me of anything remotely verbose?
"Muffins," I hear, muffled by his mouth on my neck, and then I am released, bereft and aroused as I watch him move to the pantry and open the door.
Well, I guess that solves that dilemma.
*****
Really, where the boy puts it I have no clue, his legs must be hollow. Here I am, thirt-five minutes from disaster with only half a smoked salmon and a pitiful tray of scavenged oysters and perhaps, if I'm lucky, a canapé or two.
Theo has the good sense to look contrite; standing there in the kitchen with that well-proportioned head hanging and his hands tucked neatly behind his back, doing his best impression of a private school lad in short pants.
"I didn't know they were for your party," he says forlorn in his Paul Smith wool slacks and turtleneck. Not to mention the Italian loafers.
"What do you mean you didn't know?" I say, the picture of righteous indignation and offended gay sensibilities. "I've only mentioned this party every fifteen minutes for the last two weeks, you didn't know..." I give him my best incredulous snort and turn my head away.
"I could go to Kroger and get something from the deli," he offers, pitiful in my rebuke, sucking in his full lower lip and looking at me with his melting blue eyes behind kohl black lashes for which any woman in her right mind would mob and overturn any pink Mary Kay Cadillac for.
"Kroger," I let the 'r' roll off my tongue, "you expect me to feed them fried chicken or half quiches from the Kroger deli? Why not get a box of bagel bites while you are there? I am just... beside myself, truly I am. I think I might need some air." And to illustrate that point I pick up a napkin and fan myself with it, giving Theo a sidelong look in the process.
Theo gives me one of his best and worst pouts and stands there, taking his punishment like the man he always wanted to be, facing it head on in designer clothing and a hundred dollar haircut.
"I'll do anything to make it up to you Nigel, just anything," he says and gives me his hopeful look, his puppy look, his young and hung look.
"Anything?" I say, thoughtfully pressing the napkin to my chin now. "Anything at all?" I add, just to watch him squirm. He has such a delightful squirm.
"Anything," he confirms with a nod. "I deserve to be punished," he adds and shrugs his adorable shoulders and shuffles his feet. It is times like these I realize the little bastard knows me too damn well.
"Well," I say airily and wave the napkin under my nose, "I suppose you could greet them at the door, tell them I've been struck down by a horrible bout of food poisoning, no wait, struck down by an undiagnosed disease... or even better, struck down by an attack of the vapors that's been hovering about my head for the last week ever since Monty told me that on his last visit to his reader he was pronounced the reincarnation of Greta Garbo. Yes, tell them that; they'll believe that."
Theo nods, eager to be forgiven.
"Then," I drawl, "when they are all gone you need to go and put on your little suit, the playboy bunny suit and get my manicure kit."
It's good to be the queen.
*****
The edges of his lips and the whites of his teeth were stained blue from the lollipop.
"Theo, darling, where did you get that?"
Honestly. My golden avatar gave me an innocent befuddled look, the lollipop stick quivered slightly between his lips.
"That thing in your mouth sweetheart, where did you get it?" I gave him a helpful hint by gently placing a fingertip against the end of the stick protruding from between those full ruby lips.
Theo crossed his eyes to look at my finger, then grinned a blue grin at me and reached up and popped the sweet out of his mouth with a slurping sound that made my heart and balls go pitter patter.
"At that little shop were just in," he waved vaguely in the direction from which we'd come, sauntering down the street so I could show him off to the shop girls. All look but no touch. I know, I know, cruel but so satisfying.
Now this was surprising because I did not remember buying him anything in said shop and I know it's his habit whenever we are out not to carry any of his own money, in case he were to see something he wanted and couldn't beg out of me. He knows being empty- handed and just plain gorgeous makes me generous beyond his wildest dreams.
"Theodore!" I gasped, "you aren't stealing are you?" Scandalous horror! my lover a common petty pinchpenny sucker thief; but oh so thrilling to be sleeping with a scoundrel, don't you think? I reeled in my sudden passion play, all in my head of course. Catching Theo climbing back in through our bedroom window, dressed in a very somber fashion of black on black, but with texture, you know, and pattern, in one hand he clutches a bag of forbidden items. Jewelry of the finest quality! He gasps when he sees I am awake, lying in our bed, 200 thread count sheets barely across my thighs, looking pale and helpless in the moonlight.
"I know that you disapprove," he said in a surprisingly baritone voice for him, "but I have nothing else to offer you. I have no means of my own, only this lowly skill... and my body." My dark-clad Adonis comes to me, the picture of solemn misery and undying love.
"Nigel," a voice says. Now that sounds like Theo; sometimes he can be a bit nasal and haughty, but mostly he has one of those pleasant enough voices, like a sitcom voice, like that boy on 'Will and Grace.'
"Nigel?" He questions me again and suddenly I realize we are still standing on the sidewalk on Virginia Avenue and our bedroom is not in the proximity. I feel my cheeks heat a bit and I glance up at him. He smiles and licks the lollipop with an indigo tongue before tucking it back in his mouth. Is it wrong to envy a blue confectionary treat?
*****
The woman is a shark. She smells a little blood in the water and homes right in and circles watching the helpless thrashing of her victim. This time it's me.
I answer the phone because it would be a defeat not to; a sign of weakness like baring one's throat to a wolf. I try not to let my consternation confuse her primal instincts.
"Good morning Margie darling, what good news do you have for me today?" I glance down the bed at Theo lying naked and on his stomach, feet in the air and crossed at the ankle. He's reading my latest manuscript and moving his lips. Truly inspirational.
"Nigel, where is it? You said it would be on my desk this morning and it isn't, what am I suppose to tell Elliott? My heart can't take this Nigel, it really can't. You have to get it here. What's the problem? Should I send a courier? Tell me to send a courier. I want to hear you say it right now Ð 'oh Margie, here it is, send a courier.' Tell me you're going to say that Nigel."
I study my nails as she rasps in my ear; far too many Pall Malls for my girl Margie.
"I'm doing some last minute editing," I glance at Theo again, "I'll get back to you, how's that?"
"Get back to me? There is no getting back to me! It's me sending out the hounds Nigel, it's me hiring the swat team, you don't get back to people. You malinger, that's right, you're a malingerer and don't you deny it, no you don't!"
She moans then, this little pasty sound that gurgles from the pit of her throat and I hold the phone away from my ear and pick at a thread on my robe. I wait until I can hear her gasping for breath again.
"Look peapod," I soothe, "you don't want me to turn in something I'm not satisfied with, do you? I have to make sure the piece is riveting as well as charming and subtle. I have to make sure you'll be happy love, I only live for your happiness. How long has it been... fifteen years? Twenty? Margie, you and I have always been a team. Trust me on this; just trust me." Theo has rolled up onto his side, taking the manuscript with him, and it's getting warm in my robe and light in my head.
"Well... has he?" I hear the flick of her fifty dollar lighter and the scuffing of a glass ashtray pulled across the desk.
"Not yet, but wait for it, he's just getting to the good bits," I lick my lips and hold my breath.
"I swear to god, I will never represent another pretentious fag who won't turn in a manuscript if it doesn't give his boyfriend an erection!"
I smile lazily and shrug, even though I know she can't see it.
"What can I say?" I purr into the phone, "it's a gift."
*****
I was standing near the bar at Rosa's little birthday bash when to my sudden horror I realized I was wearing the same suit as Burton Nash and in that realization I also realized that it would make this suit so very last year because Burton Nash wouldn't know current fashion if it were to suck his dick.
I glanced across the expanse of Rosa's spare ballroom and my eyes found Theo, enthralled like a mouse by a cobra and under the spell of that little twink who was pretending he could play the baby grand by the French patio doors with just the intention of luring some unsuspecting culturally-challenged-yet sexually-evocative prey into his vapid embrace.
Gods, this meant I would have to cross the entirety of the floor in this suit. Since I had opted for a non-chatty mood tonight, I had been hugging the shadows near the bar and given many a verbally abusive passerby the winter of my shoulder. I was here to be aloof because I had been engaging at the last party and I didn't want to be considered a bore.
I myself had taught Theo several methods of self defense, not the least of which was our 'panic' phrase. He was to look about and say quite loudly and clearly, "Where's Nigel?" The boy has all the retention value of dot com stock. So I extracted my cigarette case and holder, gave myself a shake to engage my pretentious effect, and stuck the end of the onyx and pearl social meter between my lips.
Head down, free hand jammed in pocket, I decided to run the gauntlet. The obvious danger here of course was an accidental acknowledgement of a social peer. While having admittedly few there were several of them congregating near the buffet and lavishing praise upon one another not unlike gorillas groom one another for fleas. My best chance for success was an eyes-forward determined march toward my lover while giving the impression of affronted maliciousness. It could be loosely translated into jealousy and the topic of a later date at yet another party when I once again wished to be engaging.
As I neared the pair perched on the piano bench I heard Theo's voice loudly and clearly asking where I might be. My heart skipped a beat and I almost faltered in my stride but this was working out better than I'd hoped for. With a breezy smile and easy elegance I proclaimed my presence.
"Here I am Theodore, I was just coming to inquire if you'd seen Rosa's lovely garden, the patio doors are just here and I would love to show you the fountain at night since it is lighted for optimal romantic potential."
I smiled broadly as Theo looked up at me, smiled that most disarming smile and stood to take my arm. "Do forgive us," I said to his would be seducer in my best touch-him-and-I'll-make-you-want-to-crawl-back-into-mommy's-womb voice.
My chance! Escape before the suit was called out, and to add to my legacy, a night time walk in the gardens with my very 24-year-old devotee on my arm. Only, there would be no night time stroll, there would be a quick walk down the stairs to the path, around the house and out the gate to my Bentley with which we could beat a hasty retreat and I could have a midnight suit burning whilst Theo languished nearby, naked in the Jacuzzi.
We strolled briskly the few short steps to the doors and pushed through them and out onto the stone-tiled terrace. My eyes darted about and I quickly located the stairs to garden level and ushered Theo toward them with great haste. Theo was smirking, about what I don't know, but we made it to the bottom of the stairs and a few steps down the path before he shamelessly took advantage of his size and youth and pulled me to a halt, spun me around and wrapped his arms around me.
"Oh, oh Theo not here darling, don't you see? This Versace is riding me like a broken nag and I simply must get home and put on a smoking jacket... Theo..." His hands were sliding up my back and his full lips were nearing my ear.
"Were you jealous?" He asked with far too much satisfaction for my taste and as I started to stiffen and inform the impudent brat that I was far too experienced and sought-after to even consider being jealous, his lips met my ear and my ear betrayed the hiding place of my neck and my body sent a signal via parcel post from my brain to my lips and it got lost as it is with most parcel posts of any importance.
Well, this will most certainly be fodder for my next party; I will have no choice but to be engaging.