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submitted by cuthbodge da-dancing-cat
Curt Wilde looked out of the window in the poky bedroom.
The rain spattered the glass and made it look like beads of sweat on a
singer's smooth back. The cold iron bars, however blocked Curt from the
outside world and Brian Slade.
He had been crazy about Brian ever since he had first met him all
those years ago. Curt couldn't help but love a man in a dress.
Brian had been so beautiful in his knee high platforms and silver
pedal pushers. Curt thought of Brian in a pair of tight silver PVC trousers
and platforms with no shirt and he could feel his erection pushing at the
front of his own tight PVC trousers.
This was all Rose's fault. She was his only living relative.
His sister no less. She was a vicious old harpy, hell bent on forcing
Curt to go cold turkey. At the moment she was locking him in his old bedroom
at their parents' house. Rose had put bars on the window so that
Curt couldn't kill himself by jumping through the glass.
He had all the amenities that he needed. There was running water; a
portable loo and he had his computer and television. There was no phone or
Internet so he couldn't contact anyone to set him free or bring him drugs.
Apart from that, the only thing the room was missing was a nice supply of heroin.
Curt had begged Rose to call Brian, but she was immovable. Curt was
suffering withdrawal. Not from the heroin. yes he missed the hit, but he
could take the loss of a drug. He was withdrawn from Brian, and it was
killing him. He switched on the television. He flicked through the channels
and lay back on his bed. He figured that if he liked the sound he would
watch the program. So, eyes on the ceiling Curt listened to each channel for
about ten seconds. A nature program, a political debate, a period drama
,
comedy. a voice that Curt recognised. He sat bolt upright and watched the
television, rapt with awe. "Rose, ROSE, come here, QUICK!"
Rose hurried up the stairs afraid that her brother was about to smash the
computer over his head. She hastily unlocked the door and went into the
room. What she saw took her by surprise; there was Curt on his knees
crying at the television. On the black box Brian Slade was telling the
world that Curt was seriously ill right now, but he'd be back in a
short time, stronger than ever.
Curt got off his knees and looked his sister in the face. Rose saw the
haunted eyes searching for something in her expression. They didn't find
what they were looking for. "Please Rose, I have to be with him. I CAN'T
TAKE IT ANYMORE!" Curt was now holding his sister's arm, on his knees again
sobbing uncontrollably into her sleeve. " I love him Rose, I love him so
much." This was said in a barely audible whisper. Rose heard her brother.
She pulled away from him and left, locking the 6-inch door behind her.
Later on that afternoon Rose went up to change the bucket in
Curt's portable loo. She noticed the four large slices in his left arm.
She also noticed the
shattered mirror and the blood stained piece of glass
tightly curled in her
brother's knotted fist.
* * *
Curt looked out of his bedroom window.
He saw an expensive car pull up. 'A
Mercedes. Very swish.' He thought.
A tall young man opened the driver side
front door and a blast of music hit Curt
through the open window. He pressed
his face to the bars and watched as the
driver went around to the other door
and opened it. Out stepped a young
slim man of average height, wearing blue
knee trousers and platform shoes and a
lurid red pirate shirt. Curt gasped.
The music ended. Curt remembered it
as being T-Rex. Brian Slade looked up at
the window and the look of pure
shock and joy on his stunning face was
utterly beyond any speech. Brian ran
to the door of the house and knocked
vigorously. Curt could hear his sister t
elling Brian to leave or she'd set
Rocky on him. Curt threw himself
around the room. He smashed things and
stamped on the floor and screamed until
his throat was hoarse and he was
being sick. Rose, afraid that her
brother would damage himself, shut the
front door and rushed up the stairs.
She opened the door and Curt grabbed
her. She didn't see it coming. He had
her tied to the bed before she knew
what was happening. "Don't worry
Rosie, I'll send the police around to untie
you. I'm going now. Goodbye."
Curt ran out of the room to his sister's
shouts of anger and hatred. He ran
to the door and hurled it open. He fell
into Brian Slade's arms, crying,
bleeding and sweating. Brian took Curt into
his arms and hugged him tenderly.
"It's ok now baby, it's all ok. Your safe with me."
Brian led the wasted
reject to the expensive car and drove him to a safer
place. Brian drove the
wasted reject home to his heart. He drove him to a
place no other could
reach.
* * *
Curt looked out of the window.
The sun illuminated the spangled colours of
the clothing
hanging on the opposite wall. Brian came up behind
his lover
and took him around the waist, blowing gently into
Curt's ear and licking
his neck to the collarbone. Curt had never been happier.
He didn't need
drugs. Love was his drug of choice.
Brian ran his hands over Curt's silky,
scarred chest. Curt's breath caught in his
throat and he turned around to
face the man that had saved his life in every
sense of the word. He searched
Brian's eyes and found what he had been
looking for in his sister's eyes.
Love.
Curt was finally home.
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