"What I want?"

"Appearance."

"I see. I want him to have blue eyes"

"We have a boy with purple eyes, another with gold and another with jade green like no other, and one with eyes as black as night."

"I want blue eyes if I may."

"Of course Sir...Anything else?"

"A kind face Sir, A kind face."

"I have a boy in mind for you. His face is sweet, his eyes very blue. I'll fetch him for you." He left the room his gold robes trailing on the burned Persian carpet. He pushed aside a curtain of crimson and gold beads disappearing into an adjoining room.

The chamber was filled with young men in there twenties draped about like fine linens. His quick small eyes found the very one he had in mind.

“Laurence?”

The boy-man looked up from his worn leather book of poetry frowning at the man, “Yes Sir?”

“There is a gentleman interested in you.”

Laurence tried to mask his disappointment reluctantly placing the book down on the scratched mahogany table. He sat up, much shorter than his course, ugly superior.

Mr. Rogers leered at him; “He’s young. You’re really very lucky. A true, noble countenance. Rich blood. He’s probably here on daddy’s allowance. If he weren’t richer, I’d try to take him in for hire. He’s lovely.”

Laurence stood stationary but a small courteous nod. He tended to call anyone lovely who had less than three eyes. He followed him into the room splitting back the beaded curtain into his office, hideously bourgeois.

Mr. Rogers pulled him forward with a magnificent sweep of his arm. “This is Laurence. Exactly what you ordered my Sir. Note the large blue eyes, and this one bears the face of an angel.” He ran a moist red hand over his cheek smiling solicitously. “Do you approve Mr. Bradshaw?”

Charles Bradshaw looked at the boy. Though he wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, he was an improvement on his imagination. He had the eyes he desired, and he had not even imagined a face so harmless and sweet. The face was framed by shiny, dark brown hair that waved over his shoulders.

He sighed nervously, “He’s precisely what I had in mind Rogers. What’s his name?”

Rogers grinned triumphantly, “Laurence, but if that’s a problem, the matter is certainly flexible, unlike of course, the matter of fee. 9 pounds for the night.”

“Oh yes, of course. “Charles dug in his pocket tipping his cane over sending it clattering to the floor. He handed the greasy man his money looking down at his feet. The fat fingers curled around the notes sickeningly.

“Very well Mr. Bradshaw. Do you wish to take him out? Or do you wish to use one of our fine rooms?”

“I have a place arranged.” He replied shakily.

“Lovely lovely. Pleasure to do business with you Mr. Bradshaw.” He pushed Laurence forward, and he followed his customer into the chill night.

Laurence had taken note that for once Rogers had not exaggerated when he had called Mr. Bradshaw lovely. He looked no older than he himself was and possessed piercing hazel eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a full mouth that could either be cruel or gentle in a turn.

They walked someway in silence until they reached a mid-range no-name hotel around the corner near dirty Picadilly. He noticed that Bradshaw checked himself under an alias, Thomas Hutton. His caution confirmed his station in life.

They went into the room on the third floor simply decorated with a sitting room, washroom, and a bedchamber all in neutral tones and dry florals.

Charles spun around finally looking at Laurence for the first time since they had been at that horrible place. His stomach fluttered as he wondered if he could do this. He made the plans in hasty bravery and defiance after a particularly boring and disturbing dinner party. Nothing could compel him more to do something stupid than dull conversation. It reminded him of how poisoned and exhausted by life he felt, felling as though his brain would burst through his exterior. He wanted to do something that he felt was true to his nature, but to obtain his natural desires he was forced to go through the most unnatural venues, through slick dealers, and secret carriages.

Laurence waited for the man to speak, and knew instantly he had never done this before. He knew he should try to lure him from his shyness and give him his 9 pounds worth, but he was terribly sore after an exceptionally acrobatic exercise a parliament man had given him the night before. While Mr. Bradshaw was very beautiful, he would be content to stay in this way through the whole night. No such luck. The tall man advanced on him still wearing his caution like armor.

He was directly in front of him and trembling brought his elegant fingers forward touching his hair running his hands through it. When he found the nape of his neck he gently stroked it with soft fingertips so lightly it tingled warmly, Laurence dropped his head forward to the relaxing touch, and when he looked up he met Mr. Bradshaw’s sparkling eyes and fascinated face. The hazel eyes were dark and I dared to speak.

“Is there something wrong Mr. Bradshaw?”

He looked a bit surprised though not unpleased. “It’s only that I’ve never been able to touch another man this way.”

The warm hand found it’s way to my face exploring it tenderly first over my jaw, cheek, chin, closed eyelids, and over my lips with his thumb. I surprised him when I took his finger into my mouth tasting his anxiety in salt. His eyes widened and I couldn’t help but mile softly as I passed my tongue over the slightly rough pad of his finger.

He made a sound of desperation deep in his throat pulling his finger away from me kissing me squarely on the lips. His hands clutched at the linen of my jacket pulling me high and tight against his warm slender body. I allowed his tongue to explore my mouth completely. He was desperately hungry for me I could not resist him. I even felt a thrill at what may come. After dozens of dirty old men, spoiled dons, crass young widows, and screechy old women I had lost all pleasure in sex but in the base animal grunts and sweat.

He broke away suddenly his breath heavy, and his hands loosened on my jacket, ‘I’m sorry.” He panted looking down, silk black strands falling in his face.

“Sir” I whispered slowly taking a step over the cropped green carpet, ‘I am at your service. You’ve needed someone like me I think. And I’m here. What are your dreams? Fantasies? I’m here to fulfill them.”

Laurence was removing his clothing very slowly and just for me. I had paid him well to follow my commands and fulfill my fantasies that had escalated in detail as I deprived myself longer.

Pretty Mademoiselles had been introduced to me, and each would drop her fan and bat her eyes speaking softly in feeble French sweetly and demurely. Not a one though would he think about after they'd departed. I couldn’t blame them. Congeniality was bred into he poor things. But I had to smile and dismiss them. I was very polite.

This creature before me was naked to me and the candle’s light licked his body hungrily as I would highlighting the muscletone under the luminescent skin, shivering over the soft waves of his hair leaving dark his most secret places. He was like gold in this light, like the beautiful bodies described in ancient texts to be translated form Greek to Latin to French to Latin again. The insanity and risk of loving this thing. Amentes amentes…* It mattered not. I would have my dream.

*Lovers are mad.

Title means: Every Lover is a Soldier

Back to more of these...things