Authors: K.A. Merikan
“You would go on such a dangerous trip for a mere smile and I’m the ‘adorable’ one?” James shook his head. “I must admit I was rather intimidated by your looks,” he said, as usual honest to the core.
“Ya not the first one, boy,” replied Ira with a sudden urge to run his fingers through James’ thick hair. “But that’s ‘ow men are I guess. And I would ‘ave fucked ya anyway if I ‘ad the chance.” He leaned closer and breathed the smoke out as he spoke.
James blinked a bit faster. “Y-- you would? You would just try to go for it?”
The other man exhaled, observing the increasingly crowded streets as they neared Soho. “Maybe. If I recognized that look ya givin’ me.”
“The ‘fuck me raw’ look?” said James, turning his eyes away as soon as it came out of his mouth, as if embarrassed by the crude wording.
“Yeah, exactly that one.” Ira licked his lips, once again amazed with his man. He never met anyone quite like him.
*
Ira’s favorite theatre was located in a shabby part of town. One could enter it from a muddy square, frequented by cheap prostitutes and beggars, with disreputable pubs on every corner. James could smell all kinds of foods: from pies to scallops, all eaten fresh on the spot. He knew he would never be a part of this crowd but he felt safe around Ira. As if the man was his ticket to a whole world of new experiences.
A high-pitched, female voice echoed over the place, carrying words filthier than those of any lady James had ever heard. They actually made him blush as they walked across the square, passing by a small crowd that gathered around a skimpily dressed dancer moving to the rhythm of her companion’s accordion. Her voluptuous body pulsated in the yellow glow of a nearby lantern, drawing men in like moths to the fire.
Large cranes loomed against the clouds on the deep blue sky like huge scarecrows, protecting London from the undead by helping it grow. With the city predominantly spreading upwards, there were plans to build new living space on platforms right above this particular square, but for now, both inhabitants and visitors of the area could still enjoy the stars.
The rounded theatre building looked as though it had recently been painted bright purple, with a gray roof and a ledge over the main gate. It housed numerous plaster casts of Roman and Greek statues, all dyed with chipping gold paint, their genitals covered with pieces of muddy cloth that should had been changed or washed long ago. Many people gathered by the gate, discussing the performance, leaving the theatre or entering to see the last play of the day.
“Oh look!” James said all of a sudden, stopping a few feet away from an old woman with a basket full of simple rubber dolls. They were dressed in little woolen outfits and had no limbs.
“Huh?” Ira lifted his eyebrows, following his gaze. His face was slightly dirty from the dusty air, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
“Katherine has one of those!” James smiled behind his mask.
Ira’s eyes darted from the dolls to James and then back. “Ah really?” He furrowed his eyebrows, with palms shoved deep into trouser pockets. James’ heart fluttered as he looked at his partner’s harsh facial expression. He still couldn’t believe that Ira professed love to him today. It made him want to laugh, dance and drink.
“Yes! Very strange for a lady of her standing. She could afford much better dolls. But then again her tastes can be very modern.”
“They’re no dolls,” Ira replied rather flatly.
James raised his eyebrows. If he could only grab Ira’s hand! “Of course they are. They have dresses and faces. What else would they be?”
“‘ow long since ya fucked ‘er?” Ira's voice became low enough to be described as a growl as he leaned close to James, who was frozen by the blunt wording.
“What is the meaning of this question?” he muttered on the verge of being offended. They never talked about his and Katherine’s non-existent intimacy.
“Seems like she could use some, cuz that’s a rubber prick, James.” It sounded like some kind of cruel joke, but Ira was dead serious.
James cleared his throat. “Excuse me? Now you are just being silly.” He took a step closer to the doll seller.
“A toy for ya, lads?” She grinned at them with a set of yellowish teeth. “I see ya need a big one!” She fished the largest ‘doll’ out of her basket and held it towards James. Her face was gray with dust. She looked like a witch - one who read his mind apparently.
“No!” He took a sudden step back. Blood rushed up to his face and he felt both hot and cold at the same time. He couldn't understand what was going on here.
“Ya sure?” Ira whispered, his voice sounding slightly amused. “I’m sure signor Dildo would love to meet ya!”
Heat rushed through James’ chest and he gave Ira an angry sneer, before turning to walk away. It would be stupid to now deny what the ‘doll’ was, but it was still both disturbing and offensive. His throat felt tight. He couldn’t believe his lover would mock him like that!
“Oi, James!” Ira yanked his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “What...?”
“How dare you say such things!” James whispered, trying not to make a scene, but he wouldn’t even look back at Ira. “And that woman!?” he spat with anger. “She suggested I...” He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. Did he look like a sodomite? Did being with a man change him in a way that people were now taking notice?
“What, wouldn’t ya like to try it sometime? Ya like... ya know...” Ira trailed off, presumably because they were in public. His dark eyes looked over James’ face.
“Everything has its time and place! Some old woman has no right to suggest that I ‘need a big one’! How dare she! And you don’t help either. You laughed at me!” James' blood was boiling with anger, but he couldn't deny that some of it came from learning what the ‘doll’ was to his wife.
“She’s drunk, don’t mind ‘er.” Ira shook his head tiredly, his hand stroking the side of James’ arm.
“And Katherine doesn’t ‘need some’!” James barked at him, shaken. “She must not know what it is, just like I didn't! Must be a cruel joke from an acquaintance!”
“Come on...” Ira broke the distance to stand right beside him. “She needs somethin’.”
“She has Henry!” It came out louder than James intended, and he gave Ira a nervous look. He loved Katherine to bits; it was only the sex that was a flop. To realize he was neglecting her needs was a huge blow, especially now that he was so happy.
“James, please...” The other man shook his head, catching his gaze. “Ya know yaself ‘ow it feels to be unsatisfied.”
James now felt extremely uncomfortable in the crowd, even though no one really seemed to pay attention to them, busy with their own evening's entertainment. “Women are different! More delicate. It is you who does not understand!” he whispered, stepping closer.
“Bollocks.” Ira looked him straight in the eye.
James’ lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't know what to say to that. The shame of not being able to satisfy his wife was like a flood and now, he was drowning in the desperate thought of what he needed to do to change that.
Suddenly, there was a commotion on the other side of the square. Two men with white boards hanging from their necks were being harassed by a group of angry passersby. One of them took a heavy blow to the side of his head, dropping a handful of pieces of paper, but it all became clear to James when he noticed the victim had ‘Free Reverend Bell!’ written on the board. After the ‘accident’ during the parade, when zombies escaped their cage in the middle of a crowd and several people lost their lives, Johners became London’s favorite scapegoat. Even politicians as powerful as Lord Barnett were forced to condemn the cult, though James believed his withdrawal of support was not entirely honest.
A pull on his arm turned his attention back to Ira.
“Come inside. We can talk on the way.” Ira seemed a bit tense himself, but it didn’t look like he devoted even the slightest attention to the lynch, which meant it was about... well, Katherine.
“I don’t think this is a topic I wish to discuss,” James said quietly but let his lover guide him towards the theatre’s entrance. Ira’s touch felt like it could burn through James’ jacket.
“Why? We can work somethin’ out.” Ira led him through the gate and soon they stopped at the end of a messy queue.
“I need to work it out myself I’m afraid.” James winced at how deflated and unhappy he sounded. Katherine never suggested anything was wrong. Their bedroom had always been a place of failure and even thinking of it made him feel like one.
“Why? Ya not gonna sleep with her again anyway.” Ira shifted his weight to the other leg, but his voice was calm.
“Well it looks like I’ll have to!” hissed James, casting a discreet look around them. Being overheard was the last thing he wanted now. “What kind of man would I be?”
“I won’t allow it.” Ira’s eyes narrowed as he scanned James’ face, alert like never before. Most of the time, Ira was as collected as they came.
“Excuse me?” James frowned, shocked by the notion of someone else making decisions regarding his most personal choices. No one had the right to, even Ira. “Why is that? You knew all along I have a wife,” he whispered, leaning closer to his lover, conscious of the crowd around them. A group of drunk bawds standing in line in front of them wasn’t much of a threat if they overheard the conversation, but he still felt self conscious about anyone else learning about his personal life, even if it wasn’t someone of meaning.
“And ya don’t sleep with ‘er. Now ya mine or ‘ave ya forgotten?” Ira hissed, equally quiet.
James was at loss of words. His life just became a whole lot more complicated. Deep down, he had always known he could never make everyone happy, but that didn't mean he couldn't try. Especially with those closest to him.
“Ya might... ya know, tell 'er things ‘ave changed for ya. Suggest she takes up badminton, there’s men there.” James felt Ira's fingers discreetly brushing across his wrist.
Perturbed as he was, it took several seconds for the meaning of these words to sink in. “What in God’s name are you suggesting!?” he exclaimed louder than he should have in the crowd, but he couldn’t help being shocked and offended. Ira was out of line! He yanked his mask off, not even bothering to tidy up his hair.
“Ya know what I mean.” Ira glanced to the small ticket stall deeper in the stuffy corridor. Even if he was being unreasonable, it still hurt James to see him so upset.
James felt bile rising in his throat and he turned his face away in despair. He didn’t know what he would do if Ira decided he wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. The mere thought of it was like a punch in the stomach. It wasn’t a good idea to stay inside, he needed air.
It was only when Ira’s hand found his in the crowd, squeezing it gently that James could breathe again. “No,” he uttered, barely audible, but returned the gesture with more urgency than he probably should. The whole conversation was now like an anvil laid down on his chest. How could he accept such an arrangement? And then again it was him that Katherine was in love with, not some man that would come into their house and tear everything apart.
“No?” Ira threw a few coins to the doorman and they were let in behind a moldy smelling, red curtain and into a low corridor that led downstairs. The wooden stairs creaked under their feet, but the roaring crowd at the end of the walkway muffled the sounds. Considering how many people had to be walking these stairs every day, James found the putrid smell of urine especially disturbing and held his breath.
“No. She loves me and I make her unhappy.” This time it was him avoiding Ira’s eyes. This whole outing was turning into a disaster.
“But ya don’t,” Ira reasoned, as if it were a legitimate reason to neglect Katherine. The large room they entered roughly resembled a normal auditorium in theatres James knew, but all the galleries were built of wood and offered only standing places. In the stalls, there were long benches placed in two rows in front of the elevated stage. He couldn’t see any space for the orchestra below the platform so he presumed musicians would accompany the actors on stage. Unlike outside, there was no tacky decoration here. No decoration whatsoever, if he didn’t count the grand scarlet drape obscuring the stage. He doubted all the empty bottles and litter that occupied every flat surface in sight counted as decoration either.
“You said it yourself that she must have needs I don’t satisfy. I’m a horrible husband.” He looked around at the people with a heavy heart. They all seemed happy despite their ragged, colorless clothes and tired faces, even if it was just the gin speaking.
“James, it’s just that one thing.” Ira shook his head, pulling him towards a beer stand. “Other wives are much worse off.”
“I love her Ira. I want her to be as happy as I am,” he finished in a quiet voice and put a coin on the counter without even looking at the seller.
“So give’er someone who’ll love ‘er like you love me.” These words made James’ heart flutter despite the gloomy thoughts.
“It’s not how it works, since it’s me who she wants.” He took a big sip of the cider offered to him. It was surprisingly good for how cheap it was.
“Did she try to tempt ya?” Ira sounded surprised, but James wouldn’t look up at his face. Instead, he was watching his feet as they made their way through the merry crowd.
“No, I mean... she’s a lady, Ira,” he said flatly. Katherine wouldn’t do things like that.
“Or she loves ya the way ya love ‘er.” The other man rested on an empty bench by the walkway. He kicked back an empty bottle for someone else to deal with it.
James sat down, gaping at his lover. “Are you suggesting she’s interested in ladies!?” he gasped, bewildered by the thought.
“In me.” Ira hid his face behind a metal beer glass.
James turned to stare at him “Say that again?”
“See, that’s why I didn’t tell ya.” Ira peeked at him from above his glass, grim and visibly tense.
“Tell me this is a joke.” James’s voice cooled with every next word.
“It’s true,” Ira sighed, leaning in closer with his arm around the back of the bench. “But I didn’t encourage ‘er!”
This new information was getting James angrier. Was there something wrong with him? He was handsome. Was it the scars? Was he too polite? Or not polite enough? His cider felt more bitter with each sip.