THE
LINES OF DESCENT continued - part 3
The self-realization
began at first meeting, although Blair Sandburg had no idea. Peter Bailey
caught his attention immediately when the pair arrived at Noon. They were a
marvelous contrast in personalities and physique. Although both men were well
built and proportioned nicely, Peter was slightly taller, but slimmer in frame
and, although six-years-older than Mark, at thirty-six he took the back seat
initially, quietly sitting back and watching. It was obvious the two men were
deeply in love. Mark continuously pulled the quiet man to him, hugging him over
the smallest pretense.
Peter Bailey had long
brown hair that covered his ears. The brown eyes that looked out from behind
the round, wire-framed glasses were always alert and questioning as though he
were afraid he might miss something if he rested them for a while. His mouth
most times set in a small smile, as though not quite sure to be in awe or
simply laughing at the idiosyncrasies of the world around him.
The striking contrast
of his partner made Peter seem at times frail, although there was nothing
fragile in his nature or his demeanor. It was all illusion when foiled by
Coletrane’s bronzed skin, sun-tinged brown hair and hazel eyes. This man literally
glowed with good health and stamina and Bailey looked washed out at times and
mousy.
To the casual
observer, these differences made Peter seem at times meek and compliant,
although in reality, there was nothing weak in his nature or his demeanor. It
was all illusion he seemed to have no problem with.
The lesson began
immediately.
As Bailey and
Coletrane entered the living room, Blair and Jim both rose to greet the new
guests. Vincent walked them in, an arm on each shoulder, one on each side of
him. Damien had run the steaks into the kitchen and was getting beers for the
guests.
“Jim Ellison, Blair
Sandburg, I would like you to meet two very good friends of ours, Mark
Coletrane and Peter Bailey.”
Both Jim and Blair
shook hands with the two men.
“Blair,” Peter said,
the first conversation he jumped into since their arrival fifteen minutes
earlier, “I hear you’re an anthropologist. I can’t tell you how much I’ve heard
about you from Vincent and Day. As a matter of fact, I’ve already read a few of
your journal publications. Quite the presenter of facts and theories, you
changed my views almost completely about the physiological adaptability of
nomadic peoples. Although some of your theories on the lack of social classes
in these people seem to differ greatly from your peer's opinions.” The man
smiled making it quite clear that different was not always frowned upon by
him.
Blair shifted weight,
relaxed and seemed to come out of his little shell.
Mark laughed at Vin
as Peter and Blair immediately began a serious discussion on tribal warriors
and their abilities to adapt physically to protect their tribes.
“He has found a soul
mate. I’ll never get him away from here, today, Vin, “ Mark laughed again,
shaking his head. “He’s a man starving for intellectual conversation. The very
fact that Mr. Sandburg didn’t take umbrage tells me those two are ready for a
good debate.”
The afternoon went
like a charm. Even Damien, who often bristled around Mark, was relaxed and
friendly. Although he stuck to Vin most times, always eager to help in the
kitchen or light the grill or watch the steaks as they grilled, anything to
work next to Vin, touch him occasionally and be hugged back, he was still
showing courteous interest in his guests and even joined Peter and Blair in a
heated debate about art and it’s moral obligation.
The only crimp in the
day came when Mark and Day got into a slight altercation over the heated grill.
Vin had returned to the kitchen to get some sauce for Mark. Damien was left to
turn the steaks and Mark offered assistance.
“Hey, go easy with
those steaks. You keep slamming them over like that you break the searing and
the juices seep out. I hate dry steak.”
Damien, although not
the domestic sort, considered himself a master of the grill. It was the one
outside activity, besides lovemaking under the stars, which the indoor athlete
liked. “Coletrane, you grow grass, it
doesn’t make you an expert on outdoor cooking,” Day said sarcastically.
“Brat, it was just
some friendly advice, you’d do better if you would just listen to other people
once in a while,” Mark shot back.
“Deeeemmoooon,” the
slow threat came from behind him, just as the blond head snapped back ready to
deliver a retort that no doubt would have had Coletrane ready to take the younger
man in tow.
Day quickly lowered
his head and concentrated on turning the steaks. Mark glanced away, staring off
to the gardens, embarrassed by his own tone.
“Do I need to tell
you to apologize?” Vincent whispered quietly into Day’s ear.
“You don’t even know
what it was about,” Day hissed back. “You just assume I’m wrong.”
“I know you and Mark
and I know it’s your back he bristles.”
Vin waited, keeping a
warning arm around Day’s shoulders as he turned the steaks, slamming them down
now on the grill with a vengeance.
“I’m sorry,” he said,
somewhat harshly.
Gently lifting his
partner's face, he leaned down and kissed the pouting lips long and hard,
ending the bad mood as quickly at it started.
Mark laughed and walked away to join Jim, Blair, and Peter as they
conversed at the patio table, drinking beers and discussing a thousand and one
things.
Blair Sandburg was in
heaven…or surely he had entered some time warp, some academic black hole that
allowed ideas and concepts and philosophy to fill it with good grace. The
afternoon was fantastic. Peter had the young anthropologist in deep admiration.
Peter had ideas about health care that were eons beyond his contemporaries and
he was not adverse to studying ancient cultures and garnering ideas about lifestyles
and herbal remedies in the treatment of illnesses.
Yet, for all the hard
work he turned towards the healing arts, he still had time and interest in art,
literature, music, and philosophy. There was not a subject he did not seem
comfortable conversing on and he was always eager to hear Jim or Blair or Day
or Vin’s opinions on things. Mark, joined in occasionally, but it was obvious
that the younger man loved his partner and was just as eager as the others to
listen to him expound on his ideas.
As the sun was
setting, dinner was coming to an end. Vincent suggested everyone adjourn to the
living room. The house well heated now that the gas lines were fixed.
A quick clean up with
all men pitching in and coffee and cheesecake were awaiting them in the fire
lit room.
“How is Mrs. Dunn
coming along?” Vincent asked Peter.
“Not too well, I’m
afraid,” Peter said as he forked a large piece of cheesecake into his mouth.
“I might send her to
a hospice soon, but I’m not really ready to give up yet," Bailey said as
he gave a surreptitious look at Mark who was conversing with Jim about a
landscaping job he had done a year ago and found a corpse.
Blair caught the
look, but didn’t give it a second thought.
“She just needs me
there a bit more. I can gauge her pain levels better and adjust the treatment,”
Bailey pursued in a softer voice.
“You will get someone
else to do it or you’ll be standing in the corner with a sore bottom while I
get someone else to do it.”
Blair’s eyes widened,
he jerked his plate and almost spilt his coffee. For a small moment in time,
the day was shattered, crimped in that one spot as though a fine ribbon now
bore the markings of a knot.
Instead of being
embarrassed, instead of shrinking off under the guise of humor, Peter looked
lovingly over at Mark’s stern face.
“I know, I was just
thinking.”
"Don't. That sort of thinking lead to the trouble
you got into a few days ago," Mark said, quietly, but sternly.
Peter smiled at him,
nodded once and then leaning against him, said softly, "I love you."
"I love
you," Mark whispered back, squeezing his shoulders.
Peter laughed as he
saw the shocked look on Blair’s face.
“I’m afraid I don’t
act responsibly most times in my profession," he began casually, standing
and refilling his coffee cup. "Oh,
I don’t mean as a doctor but about my own stamina and health care when dealing
with other’s who are sick. Mark has paddled me raw on more than one occasion
when I’ve run myself into the ground trying to keep someone else from sinking.”
Vin watched Blair’s
face. Jim stopped, and seeing the epiphany dawning on his young lover’s face,
he caught Vin’s eye and was answered with a wink.
“You mean…you and
him…I mean it just doesn’t fit,” Blair said, hoping that this one man could
explain the incongruity of these relationships to him.
Peter Bailey
laughed. "What doesn't fit
Blair? The fact that he is younger than
me? The fact that I am a doctor? What?"
There was no anger or censure in his voice, just calling attention and
forcing the other man to discard his previous assumptions. Both he and Mark had been briefed at what
was going on and knew their parts well.
He walked back and casually sat on the arm of the sofa, placing his cup
on the small table beside Mark.
Mark reached muscular
arms up and over and grasping the upper forearms of the older man, he pulled
him forward in a roll, easing him gently onto his lap. Day walked over to
Vincent, who occupied the other winged back chair and was quite glad the group
had moved into a more intimate stage. He was hungry for some attentions of his
own.
Blair still sat
shocked on the loveseat. Jim, noting his reaction, sat down next to him and
placing an arm around his shoulders brought him near. Stiffening at first,
Blair seemed to fight the evidence before his own eyes. Here was a man who kept
his identity, his individuality, his own remarkable oneness and, yet, gave
himself up into a disciplinary relationship with a younger man who could not
hold a candle to him in either experience or education. Yet, there was love and
it was deep and abiding and accepted.
“It’s easy, Chief,”
Jim whispered into Blair’s ear as he felt him relax against him, “all you have
to do is accept it and accept who you are.”
Burying his face into
Jim’s shirt, Blair hung on for dear life as though he had been drowning for
days or weeks and just now realized it. Now he held onto the one thing that
could pull him up and out and he just didn’t know how to ask.
The winds whipped up
and the occupants of Halcyon were glad they had heat. Ellison rubbed a weary
hand across his face, resting his lower arm on his forehead, frustrated with
the uneasy night and his even more restless partner.
Blair had tossed and
turned, fluffed and puffed the pillow, moaned and groaned along with the howling
night until Jim was ready to tie him down. Instead he hooked out a steel band,
trapped the other’s waist and pulled the younger man to him, anchoring him
firmly to his side.
“That’s it, Sandburg,
you’re wearing yourself out with all the floundering, just lie still and
relax.”
“I can’t, Jim, I just
can’t seem to find a comfortable position.”
“Why can’t you
sleep?” Jim asked, trying to find out the cause of his discontent. “I thought
you had a nice day. You and Peter sure seemed to hit it off.”
“Actually, I did.
It’ll be quite memorable in more ways than you think,” Blair mumbled
cryptically against Jim’s neck, the warm breath tickling the hairs in that
region. He yawned and took a deep
breath, his mind exhausting him with unwanted thoughts.
“Care to share the
mystery behind that remark, Chief?” Ellison asked, having a pretty good idea he
already knew.
“I guess
self-realization only goes so far. I think epiphanies are great and all, Jim,
but if you analyze your insights into things they lose their moment of glory.”
“Sandburg, you’re
talking in riddles. Make sense or go to sleep,” the detective growled, “as a
matter of fact, I’d rather you go to sleep.”
The smaller man
pushed off with one hard shove and rolled out of bed. Wearing the warm flannel
pajamas Vin had bestowed on him the night the Gazebo fell, he looked lost in
the long limbed garment. Not even bothering to roll up the fallen cuffs and
sleeves, he moved away from the bed.
Jim sat up, confused.
“I mean, man, we had
an agreement, a commitment. I thought it was binding for six months.”
With that said, he
opened the door and swiftly left the room, barefoot and confused.
Ellison sighed
wearily, and clad in his usual sleepwear of boxers and t-shirt, he followed
after his upset lover.
The embers still
glowed in the dying fire. The soft wall sconces lit the way into the huge
room. Blair threw himself face down on
the large sofa and kicked his legs violently up like a child in the early
stages of a tantrum. It’s so unfair, he thought, Vin and Mark make it so easy
for Day and Peter. They don’t give them choices all the time, vacillate between
being in and out of the relationship. This whole thing is Jim’s fault, and he
wasn’t even aware he had spoken this thought out loud.
As Ellison came down
the hallway, he passed the library. The light glowed inside, the door cracked
open enough to show the large man sitting at a desk, a glass of brandy in one
hand, the other stroking Desi who sat like an Egyptian icon on his desk.
Handing the cat small treats from an open desk drawer, he pulled his head back
indicating entrance to Jim.
“He just flew past
into the living room,” was the only commentary made.
Then putting down his
snifter, he opened the second drawer of the desk and took out a wooden paddle
laying it on the desk. “How long are
you going to make him suffer when this should have been over with by now?”
Jim picked up the
paddle and looking one more time at Vin, he nodded his head, “I think he just
asked me for it in his round about Sandburg way.”
Vin picked up the
snifter and offered a small salute to Jim with his glass. Then as though some
guru having given all the advice he could on a subject, he swept the cat into
his lap and turned the large leather chair to face out onto the front lawns.
The trees bent and danced in the winds and Cade lost himself in his own
memories of the night.
Jim left him to his
musings and decided to set his brat back on track.
Jim never said a
word, as a matter of fact, Blair was so busy muttering comforting accusations
against his sentinel, not caring whether or not he heard him, he never realized
the man was standing over him. When Jim heard the final aspersion against his
character, “It’s all Jim’s fault,” he grabbed the younger man by his arm and
hauled him upright.
Sandburg gasped in
surprise, but all thought processes were halted as Jim quickly took his place
on the sofa and pulled the anthropologist face down over his knees.
“Damn it, Jim,
don’t,” Blair once again tried to intercede, “it’s not really what I want.”
“Sandburg, be quiet.
It’s not what you want, but it’s what you need and it’s not your decision.
You’re right, it is my fault; but I won’t fail you again. You have nothing to
give up to me anymore, because you already have and I’m in control. We’re not
negotiating every turn in the road. You have a month to go and you don’t have a
say in the matter.”
With that, Jim raised
the oversized pajama tops and hooked his hand in the waistband of the bottoms,
pulling down the pj’s with the boxers in one fluid movement.
Sandburg yelped as
the paddle christened his tender flesh, first one white globe, and then the
other. Jim focused in on the heat emitting orbs as he paddled feverishly each
cheek getting its due.
“Owe! No! Stop!
Please stop!”
The loud smacks
filled the large room and Blair bit his lip, not wanting to wake his hosts,
fearful lest he call an audience. The
paddle was small and round and it left no doubt that it stung like the Dickens.
Jim was past caring about the minor concerns, putting his full trust in Vincent
Cade and any implement he would use on his own beloved brat, he paddled with
the surety of a determined man.
As the cheeks heated
and glowed, Blair wilted with acquiescence. The stiff figure that had been
pulled across Jim’s lap, the buttocks clenching in anticipation and hopes of
avoidance, now limply lay in surrender.
Gauging the spirit of
the penitent as well as the condition of the target area, Jim saw the wall
crumbling before his very eyes. Sandburg let out heavy cries as the paddle made
its final round, harsher, more intense, he recognized the farewell voyage of
the wood. Jim always spanked hardest the final round, bringing the lesson home
with a force that belied a regret for the need.
Pulling the bottoms
and boxers up over the raging mounds, Jim carefully raised the sobbing young
man across his lap.
Wincing with pain on
contact with the hard thighs, Blair grabbed Jim’s t-shirt, hitching up a sob,
he gasped for breath, needing to express some thought.
Ellison pulled him close,
steadying the trembling figure, giving him a home base to return to, reassuring
him that nothing had changed.
“I’m sorry,” Blair
mumbled the words into Jim’s shirt, “I’m sorry. Thank you.”
A smile broke across
Ellison’s face, he had guessed right. Placing a soft kiss on the curly head he simply made his own
admissions and promises, “Next time, Chief, you won’t have to ask.”
Vincent Cade watched
the tall man carry the compliant figure down the hallway towards the
stairs. Turning off the light in his
office, he looked back in to see Desi curled tightly on the sofa, warmly
snuggled in the afghan Vincent had pulled from the closet shelf and placed
there for her benefit.
“Good night, kitty
cat, and thanks for the company.” The
tall man walked slowly towards the staircase, lord of the manor. Smiling to
himself, he shook his head and said to the empty hallway, “Mrs. Coletrane, you
are absolutely right, houseguests can be trying at times.”
Monday wiled away in
languorous bliss. Both brats seemed to want nothing more than to keep their
lovers snuggly with them in bed.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner were “everyman for himself,” and the day was
used to replenish the soul and tighten bonds.
Jim held off telling
Blair about his request to go paddle shopping with Vin and Day until just
before bedtime. It did not ease the
argument in the slightest, but it did give him less exposure to the complaining
and uncooperative attitude.
Blair sat on the bed
in their room watching Jim change clothes, trying not to pout but not doing a
good job of it. "I don't want to
go, Jim."
When that
pronouncement failed to draw a response from his lover, he said louder, "I
do not want to go. You can if you want,
but not me."
Scooping his wallet
from the dresser and slipping it into his back pocket, Jim turned to face his
lover. "This is not open for
discussion, Blair," he stated matter-of-factly. "I would have thought that after spending an hour in the
corner last night for this very argument you would have gotten that fact across
to you."
Blair opened his
mouth to object again, but Jim cut him off.
"One more word
about it and I will go and borrow one of Vin's paddles again and use it on
you."
As his lover's face
twisted into a pout, Jim reached for the door and began to open it.
"Okay, Okay, I
won't say another word. You don't have
to go bother Vin. I'll go."
"Good."
Blair bounded over to
the door, a huge fake smile on his face, "See, here's me happy as a clam
about to go paddle shopping with my partner.
What could be more fun?"
He glanced back at Jim to see what sort of reaction he was getting. "Oh, let's see… maybe shopping for a
new car, maybe having your wisdom teeth removed, maybe having major surgery
without anesthesia, maybe…"
His next comment was cut
off by a quick, sharp swat to his bottom.
"One more word, Sandburg," Jim said, having lost his patience,
but determined not to let it show, "and you will find yourself over my
knee for a long period of time."
The older man glared down at his sullen companion. "I don't care if you are happy about
this shopping trip or not, we are going.
I don't want to hear it. Is that
understood?"
The other man did not
answer, instead finding great interest in his shoes.
Jim grabbed him by
the arm and turned him slightly, delivering two hard swats to his butt. "I asked if you understood."
"Yes,"
Blair said grudgingly
"Ummm… am I
interrupting something?" a quiet
voice asked from the hall. "Vin
sent me up here to see if you guys were ready." Day looked back and forth, watching the war of wills being played
out. "I can tell him you guys will
be down in a few minutes…" his
voice trailed off.
Jim looked at Blair,
"Are we finished here and ready to go?
Or do we need to discuss it further?" he asked.
Jerking his arm away
from Jim's hold, Blair said, "No, we’re fine. I'm ready. Let's just go
and get it over with."
The three men walked
down the stairs and out the front door to the waiting car. Vin drove with Jim riding in the front. Day and Blair climbed in the back and
quickly were in an animated conversation.
Jim was lost in thought, staring out the window until a quiet yet
understanding voice brought him out.
"I take it your
brat is not too trilled with the shopping trip."
Jim looked over at
the older man and smiled. "No,
he's not. I think he's embarrassed
about it. Not to mention a little
apprehensive about what we are going to buy."
"Well, there's
really nothing to be embarrassed about.
But I can understand. Levi knows
what he's doing, understands the relationships and is a complete
professional. He makes first rate
implements."
"I know,"
Jim laughed, "but I remember going with you that time. I tried to play it so cool, but I was
terrified and embarrassed and couldn't wait to get out of there."
Vin laughed with him
at the shared memory. "If I
remember, young man, you put up a fuss going, too. I believe you were sporting a red behind when we got to the
store."
Jim blushed, still
embarrassed by the memory. "God, that was so long ago, so many things have
changed…"
Vin reached over and
gave Jim's neck a slight squeeze in a comforting gesture, "But, son, so
many things are still the same."
Looking over at his
mentor, his constant source of support and guidance, Jim smiled.
Forty minutes later,
Vin pulled the car into a long drive that led to a modest, two-story, red-brick
house. Ivy covered one corner with rose
bushes decorating the opposite side. A
second building, also brick, was half-visible in the back. After he parked the car in the driveway,
Vin and Jim opened their doors and got out.
Day quickly followed; his attitude a little more cautious and subdued
than what it had been earlier. Blair
remained in the back seat of the car, his arms folded across his chest, face
set in a determined look.
Jim sighed and opened
the back door. Holding out his hand to
his partner he said softly, "Come on, love, it's not that bad. I
promise."
Taking a deep breath,
trying to calm his nerves and loosen the knot that had settled in his stomach,
Blair took Jim’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the car. Still
gripping the offered hand tightly, he walked with Jim up the sidewalk and to
the front door where Day and Vin were already waiting.
Day turned as they
approached and gave Blair a warm and comforting smile.
The door opened to
reveal a smallish man, slightly shorter than Blair, but outweighing him by a
good fifty pounds. The balding head and
glasses added a roundness to his face, and the added genuine smile made him look
like a kindly shop owner from a children’s movie.
"Vin,
Damien," he said, shaking their hands, "perfect timing. I'm so glad to see you both again. And this time you brought friends from the
States."
“Is it that obvious?”
Jim asked, wondering how he knew they were American. Surely he could not
remember Jim’s one visit almost eight years ago.
“Americans have a way
about them. For all the years Vin has been here, he still looks like a
tourist.”
“Levi, for a man who
shortened his name from Leviatus, just so he could sound like a pair of
American blue jeans, I wouldn’t be pointing fingers at what’s obvious and what
isn’t. Actually, I should start
demanding a commission for all the sales I’ve brought you in the past few years,”
Vin responded.
The other man laughed,
good-naturedly, “Well, like Mr. Strauss, I like to think I get to the seat of
most problems.”
“That you do,” Vin
said, ushering Damien ahead of him.
Levi winked at the
younger man, offering a slight pat on the shoulder for support.
Day blushed and said,
“They are very well made, I just wish I didn’t see them as much as I do.”
A hearty laugh
escaped the smaller man.
Vin motioned for Jim
and Blair to step up, saying, “I would like to introduce two good friends of
mine. You might remember James Ellison,
he and I had a relationship several years ago.
This is his life partner, Blair Sandburg."
"Ah, yes, I knew
you looked familiar, James. You were in
the army, or had just gotten out of the army the last time you were here,
right?"
Jim nodded.
"Yes, that was about eight years ago.
I'm now a police detective in Washington State." Pointing to Blair, he said, "Blair and
I have been together over a year now, but this type of relationship is new,
only since April."
Levi smiled at Blair
and shook his hand, patting it with his other.
"Don't be afraid young man, I won't bite. Are you a police officer,
too?"
As much as he wished
to dislike this man, not be friendly in any way, he couldn't help himself. He smiled back, "No, I teach
anthropology at Rainier University in Cascade; I assist Jim on some of his
cases as a police consultant.”
"Ah, a full
plate I see. Well, come, come, let's go
to the workshop and decide what you all want,” Levi said.
Linking arms with
Blair, he pulled the younger man along as though they were involved in some
conspiracy all their own.
“Now, little boy, I
have dealt with many people new to a discipline relationship, so I know what
you are going through. I want to tell you what I’m going to do once we get
inside so you can prepare yourself.
Your partner doesn’t look like he is putting up with any attitude today.
Am I right? I know Vin wouldn’t hesitate for a moment putting Damien over his
knee if he threw any attitude around here.”
Blair nodded,
remembering the conversation before they left the house.
"Okay, when we
get there, I am going to deal with Day and Vin first since they won't take much
time. Then, " he paused,
"it's your turn."
"I'll take you
and Jim into the back room and let him put you in the position he wants a paddle
for; over his knee, over an object, however.
Then we take some measurements, and talk about style. It's quick, I promise you. Maybe about ten minutes of you being in
position and the rest is discussion."
Blair nodded, not
really trusting his voice.
"Just
relax," the other man continued, his voice low and easy, sort of soothing,
"don't be embarrassed at some of the questions I ask you and your
partner. Just think as me as your
doctor in a way." He gave Blair's
shoulder a quick squeeze as they reached the door to the second building.
"Come, come,” he
urged. “Would any of you like tea or coffee?" unlocking the door and
ushering the men inside.
Blair stepped in and
was startled by the interior. It looked
like a living room of anyone's house. There
was a couch and several chairs positioned around a low coffee table with end
tables and lamps. On the other side,
there was a long dining room table with eight chairs around it. A silk floral arrangement sat in the
center. This was not what Blair was
expecting.
Levi noticed Blair's
expression and laughed, "Not what you were expecting? No chains and spikes all over the
place. No sounds of screams and whips
coming from behind closed doors."
Blair laughed and
seemed to relax some.
Walking over to him,
Day said in a loud stage whisper, "They have all that stuff down in the
basement…. Whatever you do, don't go behind that door." Shuddering, he
pointed to a closed door behind the couch.
"Damien!"
Vin barked, "Stop."
Then turning to
Blair, “Ignore him. That's the
bathroom."
Damien caught Blair’s
threatening look and shrugged in a typical ‘what do you expect from me’ kind of
way.
Vin and Damien were
then ushered into the back room.
Blair nervously
walked around the room pretending interest in various objets d'art. Various
twisted shapes made of wood and leather accented the room, presents no doubt
with some meaning to the craftsman of discipline. Passing the sofa he realized
Jim was thumbing through a photo album. Stopping long enough to view the photos
of paddles, switches, and various other objects, he noted the yellow stickers
Jim eagerly marked the pages with.
Vin, Damien and Levi
came out of the back room and each took a seat at the large table. They, too,
had picked up a photo album and were browsing through the many pictures. Levi
had brought a small card file out and was thumbing though it.
“The small oval
paddle that we bought several years ago has gotten a small crack in it and we
need to get a new one,” Vin was explaining.
Levi located the
correct file. “Ah, yes, the seven inch oval.”
“It got a little too
much of a work out, I’m afraid,” Vin laughed.
Damien shifted his
weight and grimaced.
“Well, that’s what
they are made for. Do you want the exact same paddle? Same wood and everything?”
“Yes, please. It’s
perfect.”
“Fine. Should take
about a week or so to make it and send it up to you.”
Several other
selections were discussed and business was concluded.
Levi glanced at
Blair, “Jim, Blair, I’m ready if you are.”
Blair shifted from
foot to foot looking to all the world like he would bolt at any moment. Vin
moved slowly nearer the door as a precaution and Damien looked nervously
around, no doubt wondering whose side to take if all hell broke lose.
There was a
loneliness about the curly-headed young man at that moment that set him off
alone in time. The blue eyes brightened in dismay as his mouth parted in a soft
pout, awed by the suggestion that the reality was upon him.
Standing up, Jim
carried the album towards the back room. Realizing he was the only one moving
in that direction, he turned staunchly, ready to assert control.
Levi, of the
experienced heart, quickly moved in like a wind churning the leaves towards the
compost pile. Hooking his arm through Blair’s, he turned towards Vin.
“Vincent, I think you
and Damien should check out those new climbing ivy I’ve decorated the arbor
with. You would do well to plant those as covering near your portico. I think
it would take care of that draft problem near the entrance hall.”
Vin, waking from his
own ignorant stance, reddened slightly from his lack of insight. Pulling Damien
by the arm, he headed for the door, “Day and I will check it out.”
Jim softened, too,
realizing his own insensitivity in matters. Coming forward he put his arm
around Blair’s shoulder taking him from Levi, “Come on, Chief, it’ll be over
soon. It’s okay.”
The back room was
more along the lines of what Blair was expecting. Along one wall were various paddles of almost every different
size, shape and thickness imaginable.
"Jim, how do you
usually discipline Blair?" Levi
asked, all business now. No doubt realizing that it would be in the young man’s
best interest to be professional and efficient.
"We have a small
room in the house, I sit in a straight back chair usually with him over my
knee. Occasionally, I will be on the
couch, but he is always over my knees. I never discipline him in our bedroom;
that room is reserved for the finer aspects of our relationship."
“Good idea. Good rule
to follow. There is indeed a time and place for everything,” Levi expounded.
His career had placed many doms and subs in his realm. He studied discipline
relationships from every aspect, angle and foil. A man who believed in
discipline, he abhorred cruelty and never stooped to the clientele who would
cheapen his trade.
"Okay, why don't
you have a seat here," he said, pulling out a chair from the wall,
"and put Blair over like you would have at home. Go ahead and remove his jeans and boxers if you do so normally."
Jim pulled Blair
quickly along. The next few minutes, though strained, were nothing more than a
blur to the anthropologist. Jim quickly pulled his jeans and boxers off and
positioned him over his knee. Rubbing his back reassuringly, he never let his
hand leave Blair for even a second.
The young
anthropologist didn’t say anything, but Jim tried to make casual conversation
trying to refocus Blair’s own thoughts up and away from the routine. “How many
years have you been doing this?”
"Going on
fifteen, but my father had the business before me. Now, Jim, when you are paddling Blair, what do you consider your
strike zone?"
"Umm, usually
from about here," Jim said, gently touching a spot on Blair's bottom just
below the clef separating his two checks, "to about here," pointing
to a spot just below the crease under the checks.
"Okay, you know
you can actually go about another inch down without worrying about any
damage," the shopkeeper said, still taking a few measurements. "All right, Blair, you can get up. We are through with that part."
Blair scrambled up
and quickly pulled his jeans back on.
Brushing his hair behind his ear, he continued to fidget with his
clothing, a button here, a belt loop there, constantly allowing himself the
pleasure of the mundane tasks.
"Why don't we go
sit at the table and discuss exactly what you are looking for," Levi said,
smiling at Blair, "See, little one, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Blair shook his head
and mumbled, "I guess not," though his reddening cheeks foretold the
emotional toll.
Jim saw Vin standing
outside the window talking to his brat. Calling out to the man through the
open, screened window, he watched as Vincent sent Day on another mission and
entered the house.
Levi motioned for
everyone to take a seat at the table. The craftsman sat at one end and the
other two men sat on either side. Vincent pulled up a chair next to Jim.
“All right then,
gentlemen, let’s talk about what you want,” Levi began. “Jim, what exactly are
you looking for? What results do you want? Sting or thud; just an attention
getter or something for some serious, hard discipline sessions?”
“Most of Blair’s
paddlings are short, quick, and not too harsh.”
Blair raised an
eyebrow at this and could not retain a snort.
The paddlemaker
glanced at him and smiled. “Blair, I’m sure that it doesn’t seem like it, but
it’s all relative.”
“I think we want
something that can be used for regular punishments, and maybe something bigger
or heavier for serious offenses. Is that okay, Chief?” Jim asked Blair.
Blair grimaced, “I
don’t think we will use the bigger one at all. This relationship will be over
in one month’s time.”
Ellison looked
quickly at Vin. Vincent just stared at the curly head, watching the nervous
hands shift the hair constantly behind his ear. “Blair’s in the trial stages,”
Vincent clued Levi in.
Ellison smiled in
agreement, “No, I’m sure we won’t. But if you change your mind, Chief, we want
to be prepared.”
Levi waited for the
sharp glances that passed between the three men to find their home base back on
him. He leveled his own clear, blue eyes on Blair. “Advise to you, young man,
don’t be so quick to call off a relationship you have merely tasted. Go the whole nine courses, then give the
critics the reviews.”
Then as though his
sales pitch were never interrupted, he continued his queries, “All right, now,
are you looking for something with more sting than thud or more thud than
sting?”
“Sting, definitely. I
don’t want to risk bruising or marking at all.”
“Okay, so no holes
then, either. Give me a moment and I’ll see what we have.” He got up from the table and disappeared in
the back room, returning quickly carrying about a dozen paddles. Spreading them
out on the table in front of the men, he explained their different uses and
feels.
“Here, James, try
this one. It’s one of my more popular ones for a standard paddle. It’s light
with good rebound for plenty of sting. The shape makes it easy to concentrate
on one spot or encompass both cheeks if you want.” He handed Jim a rounded
paddle about eight inches long.
“This looks like the
one we just ordered, Levi,” Vin said.
“Yes, it’s similar.
Yours has a little more weight behind it for a greater sting, but with this
little one,” he said, smiling at Blair while shaking his head, “I don’t think
he can handle as much as your demon can, at least not right now.”
Vin nodded in
understanding and turned to Jim. “It’s
a good paddle and makes quite an impression on Day.”
Jim ran his sensitive
fingers over the smooth wood, noting the lack of imperfections and the careful
care taken to smooth the edges. “It’s beautiful. It handles well, very
balanced,” he said, giving it two practice swings as if paddling someone.
“Now, this one,” Levi
said, handing over a slightly larger paddle, “I think you would use for more
intense discipline sessions or more serious offenses. It’s too large to
concentrate on one spot easily and will strike both cheeks all the time.”
Jim took the offered
paddle. The blade was over nine inches. Shaking his head, he handed it back,
“No, I think that’s too much.” Looking up at Blair, he couldn’t help but notice
a small hint of shock on the younger man’s face. Meeting eyes, blue contacting
blue, a secret passed between them, an acknowledgment of need and control, but
also of love and patience and kindness with a firm hand.
“All right, let’s go
for more sting than just bigger.” Selecting another paddle, he handed it to
Jim. It was about the same size as the round one, slightly curved, but longer
and narrow. “This is really several thin pieces of wood glued together. It has
excellent rebound and sting. It’s long enough to strike both cheeks at the same
time, it is great to concentrate on the sit spot and the upper thighs.”
Jim nodded as he took
this, “I like this one better.” Slapping it against his hand, he winced
slightly. “Boy, this one does sting.”
“Yes, it’s good for
those who want sting but do not want to go the leather straps or tawses.”
“No, I don’t’ want to
do that.”
Handing the paddle to
Blair, he waited for the other man’s opinion, choosing to make his lover feel a
part of the proceedings, not just an object of them. Blair swallowed hard and
handed it back. “It’s good. I don’t
think we will be using it though,” he said, as the litany of denial continued.
“I’m sure we won’t,
Chief, but better safe than sorry.”
Levi continued to
discuss blade length, hardness of woods, instruments that delivered more sting
than thud, and generally enlightened Jim on the various instruments at his
disposal. Blair listened, only slightly embarrassed now. Levi spoke like a man
who researched his craft and he was very eager to instruct Jim on instruments
of persuasion not cruelty.
As they concluded the
transaction, Levi reached over and grabbed Blair’s arms as he nervously toyed
with one of the paddles. “I’ve handled many transactions, young man. Many
younger men less lucky than you. James, here, loves you and every question
asked, every choice made, was with your best interests in mind. I’ve a sharp
mind and and a keen insight into these relationships. You’ve chosen well. Rest
assured.”
Blair mumbled a
confused, “Thanks, I guess I have,” as he caught Jim looking at him. Still not
thrilled with the proceedings, not convinced of any necessities for the
purchases, he would not acquiesce too easily, but Jim noted the straightening
of his back and a grin passed between him and Vin as they rose. The kid was
secretly proud and pleased at Levi’s observations.
It wasn’t until the
ride back to Salisbury that Blair gained a certain insight into the whole proceedings,
his anthropological, scientific nature getting the better of him.
Damien had eagerly
pleaded with Vin to ride in the front with him and Blair seemed just as eager
to ride with Jim in the back. As they
each circled the car arranging the seating positions to everyone’s liking, Vin
passed Jim and whispered in his ear, “Day, and no doubt Blair is too, always
feels the need to cuddle on the drive home. Don’t ask me why?”
Halfway towards the
estate, Blair raised his head from Jim’s lap where he had tried to nap while
the large detective stroked his hair. Quickly glancing in the front he saw the
blond head resting against Vin’s shoulder, a soft snoring sound accompanying
the classical music Vin had the radio tuned to.
“I hated it, Jim,” he
admitted, once again resting his head in his lover’s lap. Jim resumed the
stroking motion and looked down into the blue eyes as they stared at the back
of the leather seat. “But I feel more connected somehow, more assured for some
reason. It’s like a right of passage, a realization that you’re serious about
me and about our relationship.”
“Was there ever any
doubt about it, Chief?”
“No, I mean, man, I
know you, you’re pretty stubborn, Jim.”
A slight swat to his
behind, brought a smile to his face, “I guess there’s just more commitment in
it, now. I know we won’t need those paddles, Jim, I know it was more a token
gesture, but I realize these relationships are very real and very necessary. No
doubt Levi sells more than he needs to live in comfort.”
“No doubt, Chief, and
I’m sure we’ll have very little use for all three paddles, but we’ll be ready
in case we do.” Glancing up, he caught
the brown, somber eyes reflecting back from the driver’s seat. The conversation
was acknowledged in a quick wink and a smile. The simple attempt for
understanding showed the young man was turning over leaves within his own mind
and marking pages for his life.
The remaining time at
Halcyon Heights was idyllic simplicity. Marked with hours on the terrace, long
walks by the river, picnics on the lawns, the friends cherished each moment and
willed the time to slow.
On the day of
departure, Blair gave Day the cat wind chimes. The young blond head nodded
several times as he opened the small gift bag and pulled away the paper. The
tinkling sound seemed to delight him and he hugged Blair with a force that
belied need and misery. “I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you so much.”
“Hey, we got e-mail
and there’s always the chat rooms,” Blair piped in overly-cheerful, hiding his
own misery at the goodbyes.
Vincent graciously
accepted the onyx paperweight and he pulled his old friend into a forceful bear
hug. “You call, Jimmy, you let me know you’ve arrived safely. You also keep me
posted on your eating habits and your state of mind. I’d best get reports every
twenty-four hours or Simon Banks gets a call from me. Got it?”
“Got it, Vin, and
I’ll be expecting you in the States within the year.” Jim turned to Damien,
“Day, I’ll expect you bring him like we discussed.”
“No problem, Jimbo,
the Art Critic is anxious to carry a new painter and I think Vincent Cade,
American landscape artist, will be a big hit back here as well as the States.
You’ll see us real soon.”
Even Desi came into
the large living room and stood anxiously by mewling softly in agitation at the
distressed emotions of the departure. Day swooped her up into his arms and
dangled the chimes for her as she swiped the dancing cats with her paw.
Patrick had driven up
to drive them back to London and the airport and he discreetly stood by to lend
assistance.
The final farewells
were manly gestures of swatting arms, backsides and heads. Much good cheer
echoed the landscape and the sleek car pulled away and headed the American men
one step closer to the States.
Blair’s head rested
on Jim’s shoulder throughout the long transatlantic flight. The lights in the
cabin were dimmed and most of the passengers, easing the boredom of the long
flight, had decided to watch one of the offered movies or sleep. One or two
sporadically placed individuals read or pecked away at keyboards.
Jim, unable to find
rest and uninterested in the movie, his head filled with memories and concerns,
was somewhat startled to realize his sleeping partner was staring up at him
with wilted blue eyes.
“What’s the matter,
Chief,” he asked quietly, consideration for the passengers.
“I’m not sure I want
to continue after the six months, Jim,” Blair said.
Jim’s jaw clenched,
his own musings similarly drifted that way as he ruminated over the past three
weeks.
“But I don’t think
Vin and Day have such a bad relationship, at all.” Blair paused, as though
still arranging some thoughts within his own mind. “But I can assure you, if we
do continue, you’ve wasted your money in Bath.”
Ellison raised his
eyes to heaven, not so much in exasperation or thanksgiving, but in total
amusement and befuddlement. Just when he thought it was over, it was only the
beginning. He pulled the head down again onto his shoulder, patted the cheek
gingerly, and glancing out into the clouds he mouthed into the glass, “Thank
you, Cade, thank you.”
Vincent Cade stood looking out upon the lawns, his arms folded across his chest, looking like lord of the manor in every sense of the word. The soft slant of his mouth hinted at anger from anyone not knowing the older man. Upon closer inspection, upon viewing the golden haired young man who walked out to pick up the late summer blooms for the breakfast table, one would realize it was a loving humor that marked his smile now.
The orders were given
with a sharp smack to the grouchy young man’s bottom. “Breakfast on a day like
this requires fresh cut blossoms, don’t you think, brat?” Cade set the plates on the breakfast nook
table and looked out at the green lawns, dew crested and sparkling as the sun
claimed the misty countryside.
“Off with you now.
Remember, it’s Goldenrods and Purple Pansies that’ll brighten our table this
fine morning.” With that he smacked the defiant bottom a few times, sending the
younger man off in a stomping fit to collect the treasured blooms.
Vincent set down the
breakfast preparations as he saw his lover move sulkily towards the flowerbed.
It was one of the few spared lots from the day of destruction.
The older man moved
quickly towards the huge window in the grand entrance hall. Folding his arms
across his chest in typical Vincent Cade style he watched as his petulant brat
bent down and tugged hostilely on the tender blooms. Shaking his head,
muttering to himself, Cade shifted from foot to foot. “Get down and pull them
gently, young man,” he directed from the sidelines, fully aware that no one
heard him, let alone the young man on the other side of the glass who was yards
away.
He watched as the
golden head bobbed up and down as Damien collected a fine bouquet. “Look,
Demon, look for once instead of sulking with your eyes half closed to the
possibilities of the day.”
Then, as though he
could indeed instruct from behind the thick glass, the young head turned
slightly and then quickly returned to stare at a spot in the garden bed.
“By George, I think
he’s got it,” Cade mimicked in a sophisticated Rex Harrison imitation.
The sunlight caught
the golden locks, but the smile that broke across the young features melted any
and all attempts at golden glory. Damien St. Claire bent low to retrieve his
treasure. His joy evident as he turned his face heavenward and whooped.
Vincent Cade merely
smiled. Finding the ring on Sunday under the barbecue grill as he prepared it
for their guests, he had planted the find near the goldenrods. “Let the Demon
think he’s won this time, Mrs. Coletrane,” he offered up his benediction to the
heavens, “Lord knows, it’s me who gets to keep the prize. “
The End
We thank you for
reading and hope that you have been entertained.