Authors: K.A. Merikan
James had spent yet another hour in his study, with his forehead touching the desk. He felt useless and disgusting. He couldn’t keep his lustful desires to himself and now he was paying for it. He got fucked by a Jew from one of the worst parts of London and if that wasn’t humiliating enough, the same guy who works at the university, wrangling up zombies rejected him.
His forehead hit the desk again.
His study was a spacious room with rich, burgundy colored wallpaper. The two big windows were mostly covered, as the view wasn’t pleasant, even though they lived in a luxurious part of the city. That was one of the disadvantages of having an apartment on the tenth floor. The air was a lot cleaner outside, but he could see the city from above - all the smog, steam and trains moving from station to station. Lots of people were excited by the developments and technology. Zeppelins were the new frontier since they seemed to offer safer travel than trains, but James wasn’t very keen on all that. In his mind, he would always come back to the times when everything was simpler. To the mansion in Kent, where he spent most of his youth. Walking in the gardens, horse riding, swimming in the nearby lake... He taught Katherine a lot about horses and she loved it, so it was sad for him to hear her reminisce about that time. He would want to give her everything that was best in life. Little Henry too.
Every time he was here, in his office, secretly looking through the erotic drawings he had recovered from the mansion and thinking of Ira, he had felt he was cheating them in some way. The guilt almost made him gag, but after what had happened today at the university, he was more embarrassed than ever. He was treated... well... he wanted the sex, but after Ira rejected him and left shortly after he swallowed every last drop of his juices, he almost felt physically ill! He was a man of good standing, a family man, people depended on him, valued his opinions and he was an important cog within the society! Why then was he cursed with the needs of a beast?!
Worst of all, even though he was angry with that man, whenever he thought about him, all he wanted to do was pleasure himself. For a month, a day wouldn’t pass without James thinking about him. What they could do if they met again and what they would talk about. The fact that his fantasies were not purely sexual, made him feel even more uncomfortable, as he would never get to satisfy that kind of craving. They were never going to ride horses together, or go swimming in the lake and he could never take him to a restaurant, without being ostracized. James smiled at the thought of inviting Ira Russell to the opera. He knew the notion was ridiculous and Ira most probably wouldn't be interested.
The abuse he'd received today made him envision Ira as someone who doesn’t really care for silly affections. He considered searching for him in those bloody docks he lived in! No one should treat him like that! He was a strong, able man who willingly gave up fighting back to give Ira pleasure. It was an intimate thing to do and the breach of a certain trust hurt him most.
He assumed if he tried to confront Ira he could probably manage some anonymity in that district thanks to the gas mask. And then, maybe it was all just a misunderstanding. He supposed not every Jew was deeply involved with his religion. There might be something to work with there... If Ira didn’t have any radical views, and James supposed he didn’t, it could work out just fine.
Also, there was the upheaval at home. Katherine wanted for Henry to have fun with other children and often invited mothers with their sons and daughters, which meant that every other moment there was some sort of screaming and crying in the house. He wouldn’t openly admit it, but staying in his study sometimes felt like hiding from the constant racket. Katherine and Henry were the apple of his eye, but there was always a point at which he had to draw the line. They never talked about it, but as they hadn’t slept together for over a year now, it was pretty obvious that Henry wasn’t having siblings any time soon.
Suddenly, the double door swung open as Henry stormed in wearing a cowboy costume, shouting and running around.
“No, Henry! You can’t do that!” insisted his mother who came in with the boy’s nanny.
“Di
ee!” shouted Henry, getting into one of the armchairs.
James sighed and stood up. “Now, now darling,” he smiled at his wife, “let him play a bit. I was thinking of going for a walk anyway,” he said.
“Oh,” Katherine said, straightening her back. She was truly beautiful, even in a simple day dress. “Well... it’s a shame you couldn't go with us.”
“Maybe next time,” he said, patting the boy on the back and picking up his gas mask from the desk. “I won’t be long.”
His wife sighed, shifting nervously. “Do you need company, darling?” she asked, her hazel eyes following his every move.
“No, thank you,” he smiled, “it’s just a few business matters.” They all went to the corridor, where James donned his elegant dark coat.
Henry started to cry and his nanny immediately carried him away, so as not to disrupt his parents’ peace. Katherine studied him in meaningful silence.
“I’m sorry darling. I promise I’ll be back soon,” James said, looking into her eyes. “Did I do something?”
“I don’t know James,” she answered in a calm, clear voice, “did you?”
“I certainly hope I didn’t!” he laughed, but cringed a bit on the inside. He hated lying to her and avoided it as much as he could.
Katherine was silent for a long few seconds and asked: “Do you like working with that woman, Lady Shelley?”
“Lady S...” He furrowed his brows in surprise. Now he understood what his wife could have meant. She must have been worried that he had had an affair with Lady Shelley. “Oh Katherine! No! I avoid her as much as I can. She’s boring, annoying and I can never really have a decent conversation with her.” He leaned in to kiss Katherine’s cheek, but she moved a step back.
And then, with a sigh and a relieved smile she looked away. “I’m glad. Enjoy your walk, darling.”
*
The only thing James knew was that Ira lived in the dock area, which had a reputation of being far from safe. He deduced that the least dangerous would be the way by the Thames. He walked past the drunks lying on the sides of the passageway. Groups of men who studied him from head to toe as if he were a walking purse and prostitutes who looked even worse than those from Soho. Naturally, he wondered what the more secluded streets looked like. This area at least had the advantage of free access to light and air. It was not popular among the wealthy due to the smell of fish and constant noise of modern, steam-powered cranes. And certainly, the river was no fresh mountain spring.
The buildings were mostly huge granaries or freehouses, which were popular among sailors visiting the city. When he passed a large pub he suddenly heard screams when a bottle of gin broke right beside his face. Only then did he realize that two men had gotten into a fight and were too drunk and angry to mind the passer-bys. Something like this would never happen in any of the better districts. He hurried along the street, passing singing men, beggars as well as people selling food, snacks in wooden boxes, ready to eat. Unfortunately, he didn't know anything about Ira’s exact whereabouts. He knew, he would have to eventually ask someone. Then, walking along the river, lost in unpleasant thoughts, he almost bumped into a large sailor who emerged from a narrow street, arm in arm with a tall prostitute.
“Thanks, love,” he said to his companion with a smile, letting his gaze loom all over James. The harlot chuckled, patting the man’s bottom.
James momentarily took a step to the side, but from behind his mask, looked at the sailor nervously. Maybe he would know. “Excuse me, sir?” he said in a voice more meek than he would have wished for.
Both the sailor and his companion looked at him attentively. “Yeah?” asked the former, after another gliding look at James.
“You see sir, I am looking for a man of the name ‘Ira Russell’. You wouldn’t happen to know where he resides, would you?” James asked, straightening his back to appear taller and more confident. Much to his surprise, the looks his interlocutors gave each other were quite unsettling.
“I know him all right,” said the sailor, “Though sugarpie here knows him even better.” The prostitute chuckled again, giving James a funny look.
“You do...?” he asked. He didn’t know Ira also liked women. Maybe he just took whatever came his way? He felt miserable at that thought.
“I do, kind sir,” answered the prostitute with a surprisingly low voice, lifting the hem of her rich, red dress and curtseying playfully. Her hair was of a fake fiery red color and her make-up was heavy.
James squinted, to see better through the goggles of his mask. “Do you think it would displease him if I visited?” he sighed, trying not to look at the intimidating sailor.
“I am sure he’d be delighted!” answered the harlot, who immediately grabbed James’ arm. She was almost as tall as him.
“You don't mind?” he asked the sailor, just in case. He wouldn’t like to take the prostitute without his consent.
“Oh, go ahead!” laughed the other man. “There’s plenty of him to go around!”
James furrowed his eyebrows and felt suddenly uneasy, when he noticed an Adam’s apple under the prostitutes jaw. “Oh. Thank you,” he muttered.
“Very welcome, sir!” the harlot said, winking at the sailor and yanking James into the same narrow street they just came out of. She was definitely too strong for a female. What was he getting himself into!? He knew the docks where a wretched area, but a man in ladies’—harlots’ clothing!?
“So you say you know him well?” he asked, now more and more curious.
“Very deeply,” breathed his guide, smiling at him in a seductive manner as they walked through unpleasantly wet and dirty streets, mud staining their shoes. The low tenement houses and cheap brothels seemed to lean over the rigid passageway.
“Are you saying he pays for you?” James asked, not caring if it was blunt to put it like that. For over a month now, he imagined what Ira could be, what he might do, and that maybe it was all make-belief.
“Oh... depends, really. Why... jealous?” his companion cackled, with obvious amusement. James was pulled into yet another street. It was slightly broader, but that didn’t make it any less intimidating or ugly. At least, wearing a mask helped him feel somewhat anonymous.
“No,” he said, but knew it didn’t sound very convincing. “Does he take a lot of lovers?”
“You ask’im yourself, dove. I’m not gonna tell,” the prostitute said, stopping in the middle of the street. “You see that house?”
James hesitated but nodded. He was hoping for a bit more gossip. The house seemed slightly bent forward, like a tired old man, but the roof was in decent shape.
“Go up the stairs on the left. He lives there.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” James said, pushing a penny into his hand. All tense and nervous he walked up to the house. He knew it might be a gruelling and unpleasant talk, but it needed to happen. The staircase squeaked with his every step, but he saw light in the window, which meant that the other man was home. There was something in the smell of the place that he didn’t appreciate, lots of dust and dampness. After a deep breath, he finally knocked on the door. Immediately, he heard some movement and it flung open, revealing a handsome boy of about sixteen. He was shorter than James, of a delicate posture, with a slim, elegant neck. His face was quite angelic, with a narrow nose, large, pitch-black eyes and a sensuous mouth that almost begged to be kissed. He kept his black, curly hair long, but very tidy. Only after a moment, James noticed that the boy was dressed in a white nightshirt so thin it was almost transparent.
“Uhm...” James cleared his throat. “Is this the apartment of Ira Russell?” He asked weakly. Although he was handsome, he felt old and used up, next to this young, fresh boy who seemed ripe as a peach.
“It is,” said the boy, pouting, “Are you in need of his services?” he asked. The question angelically innocent, even though James knew the services Ira provided were drenched in blood.
“S... services... yes. I think so. I need to talk to him,” he gulped.
“Well he ain’t home,” said the boy, shrugging his arms. “Wanna wait?” he asked, opening the door a bit wider. James saw a humble room, furnished in dark wood and a crackling fire in a small metal fireplace. It was cool outside, but the person responsible for feeding the fire did their job a bit too well. The room was unpleasantly hot, which justified the boy’s attire to some extent. The lack of any decoration whatsoever made the interior resemble a cheap rented lodging.
James nodded and looked the boy up and down, before stepping in. “You live here?” he asked.
The boy smiled, closing the door with a thick lock and showing him to an old, leather-covered chair by the fire. “No... I just visit every now and then,” he said with a gentle smile. From his movements, James could guess, he wanted to make a good impression on Ira’s guest. “You wish for some tea? No milk,” he added immediately.
“Thank you... I think I’ll just warm up by the fire maybe...”
“As you wish,” said the boy politely, sitting in a wooden chair, one of four by the oval-shaped table covered with a gray-ish piece of cloth. There was one cupboard and a place for preparing food, with a pan hanging from the wall along with some dried foods in large jars. It looked as though they used the top of the fireplace to heat pots. The smoke was released outside with a pipe leading through the ceiling. James could see no decoration whatsoever, but there was an entrance to another room, where Ira probably slept.