An Idol for Others (33 page)

“You … oh, please. This is beginning to drive me crazy. Let me get my damn clothes on and get the hell out of here.”

They broke apart, and Mark strode quickly to the chair where he had left his shirt and shorts, the muscles of his magnificent back bunching and flowing rhythmically. In seconds he was covered. He sat to pull on his socks, and Walter stepped into the living room and snatched up the cloak and turned back with it around him. Mark pulled on his trousers and began to tie his necktie in front of the bureau mirror. Walter stood close to him and handed him a comb when he was finished. He found him even more desirable dressed than naked. He touched the full curve of his behind.

“You’re so handsome,” he said to him into the mirror. “It’s funny. You’re so unusually handsome, I didn’t quite grasp it when you arrived. Now I’d expect people to swoon when they see you in the street.”

The mirror reflected his faint smile. “Oh, they do.” He returned to the hanger and slipped on his jacket. His sex was a prominent upright cylindrical form against his groin.

“That handful shows a lot,” Walter said.

“It’ll be all right when I go outside.” He stepped up to Walter and gave the cloak a tug and let it fall to the floor. “My turn. This cloak is marvelous the way it comes off.” He looked him over and shook his head. “
Sexy
isn’t the word for it. You’re enough to drive a poor faggot crazy.”

Walter winced inwardly. He immediately labeled this small jolt of withdrawal as “coming to his senses,” and it briefly crossed his mind to discourage his moving, but Mark had made it clear that it was no great moment. Let events take their course. He could have sex occasionally with a willing young man without altering life in any way. He let Mark kiss him lightly on the lips and drop down and kiss his cock without making a move to detain him. He picked up the cloak and trailed it after him as he followed him to the door.

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” Walter said.

“The way I feel, you won’t wait long.”

“Don’t phone. I might not be able to talk. Leave a note in the box downstairs or ring and come up. If Clara’s around, don’t be surprised if I say I’m thinking of using you for more photographs.”

“Right.” He reached for Walter’s hand and gave it a squeeze without looking at him again and went quickly to the door and let himself out. Walter turned back and gathered up his clothes from the living room floor while his erection subsided.

Feeling still the touch of Mark’s body, it seemed that he had barely explored it. There was still so much more he wanted to know. All his lines of communication were open, waiting to be put to use. Clara could be thankful that he hadn’t as yet fallen in love with a girl.

He re-created an image of Mark in his mind’s eye and found it no wonder that he had been enthralled. He wandered to the bathroom while he put on his shirt and looked down at the bath mat that had served as Apollo’s altar–appallingly inadequate. The thought of getting all of him in bed took his breath away. It also reminded him of what Mark had said about a new boy every night, and his lustful high spirits recoiled. Would there be a new one tonight? So what? Mark was queer, but he had said enough to indicate that he shared Walter’s feeling that something special had happened to them. Life had acquired an intriguing new facet. He was bursting with curiosity to see what sparks it would strike from the dark corners of his spirit.

He was soaring when he reached the office. He hadn’t felt like this for years. Something fabulous had happened to him. Minutes passed while he simply savored it without pinpointing its source, and then he allowed himself to conjure up a kaleidoscope of Mark in every moment they had shared: Mark stretching, Mark combing his hair, Mark racked by orgasm, Mark smiling, Mark writhing ecstatically in copulation. The images left him giddy with desire.

He sent word to Clara that he had arrived and shared his high spirits when she joined him. He was genuinely pleased to see her. Even his sexual response to her felt recharged and alive. She looked at him with interest.

“Everything went well this morning?” she asked.

“Very, I think. Herb found this gorgeous guy.”

“Oh? Lovely. I wish I’d been allowed to look at him.”

“You can keep the photographs under your pillow.”

“Without a stitch?”

“Completely naked.”

“Oh, goodie. We haven’t been having nearly so much fun around here. Carl doesn’t want to give us an option on his new play.”

“The son of a bitch. The same old story?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Walter’s grand design was being wrecked by success. As soon as writers or actors were launched under his auspices, they were lured away by commercial managements or Hollywood. He had managed to keep his original concept intact for the first two years while everybody had still been fired by enthusiasm at participating in his daring experiment. Since then he had witnessed a steady erosion. When a new play had a big success, he was under tremendous pressure to give it an independent Broadway run, rather than keep it within the framework of his repertory program. He didn’t mind losing his actors; it stimulated him to develop new ones. It wasn’t so easy to develop new writers. He had found three good ones and half a dozen more who were capable of turning out a good play and who might do good work again but were undependable. Johnny Bainbridge had been one of the latter and had finally succumbed to Hollywood. The good ones, once established, showed little inclination for being used to subsidize their less-gifted confreres, although it was thanks to Walter’s setup that they had got the hearing that the commercial theater might never have given them. He tried to be patient with their attitude, but since he, as the director of a nonprofit organization, was making only a small fraction of what he might have earned ordinarily, his patience was wearing thin. He had to admit that Clara’s impending riches made it easier to toss fat offers from Hollywood into the wastebasket.

“Don’t these idiot writers understand that they’re successes because I give them better productions than they can get anywhere else in the country?” he demanded, more of the walls than of Clara, since they had gone over the problem many times in the past. “I can’t let Carl go. Doesn’t he know what a hack producer and hack director could do to his work?” He looked at the bowl of flowers on the table in front of him and thought of Mark and laughed. “Actually, I should let him find out, except the experience would probably kill him. Oh, damn. Tell him I’d give him 40 performances in the first four months of the season. If they all sell out–and I’m sure they will–I’ll give him a run. This means tearing the company apart again. Blast him.”

“You’re in a very generous mood today, dearest.”

“It’s spring. I’m looking forward to Europe. Anyway, Carl is one of the ones that makes what we’re doing worth bothering about. We’d better have him to dinner soon and subject him to a little of the Makin uplift. He’s got to understand that a living theater isn’t created by one playwright.”

“How about next Wednesday?”

“Sure … no, wait a minute.” He thought of Mark. He wanted to keep himself as free as possible for his initiation into the improbable mysteries of having a lover, if that was the way it turned out. He didn’t know if it would last beyond another encounter, but he suspected it might take several weeks to wear out the excitement that continued to build in him. Their departure for Europe was a comfortable six weeks away. “Let’s keep the social bit to a minimum for the next week or so. I want to tie up all the loose ends for the fall so we won’t have to think about it while we’re away.”

“Suit yourself. I’m just off for lunch with Hannah. I’m going on to the lawyers after. I have to go by the theater. If I don’t get back here, I’ll see you at home.”

He rose and went to her on a rare demonstrative impulse. He felt grateful to her for leaving him so free. It wouldn’t be too difficult to find time for Mark. If he were already in his new place, Walter could have spent an hour or two with him later this afternoon. He gave her a little kiss and sent her on her way.

When he got home, he found her looking aggressive and very determined.

“It’s Daddy, all right,” she announced before he had had a chance to sit down.

“You mean, about the money?”

“Of course. It seems he’s found some technicality in Aunt Maureen’s will. He’s ganged up with a stupid cousin of mine to get the money for her. I guess he didn’t like my siding with you, dearest.”

“Does it matter? Can he do anything?”

“It seems he can. Or has. Lawyers drive me mad. It takes them an hour to say yes or no. Then it turns out they mean maybe. I’ve decided to go to Cleveland myself.”

“Whatever for?”

“That’s where the court is with jurisdiction or something. Daddy’s apparently already blocked everything, maybe for months. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern want to enter into negotiations with somebody out there, presumably by tortoise. I’m going out and find out what the hell it’s all about.”

Walter couldn’t believe his ears. What had he done to deserve this reward? She was leaving the field clear for Mark. “When?” he asked, trying not to sound eager.

“Day after tomorrow, I thought. I could come back Sunday or stay over until Monday if it looks as if I can accomplish something.”

“I don’t see how I can go with you,” he said tentatively, prepared to muster an army of reasons why he couldn’t possibly go.

“Good heavens. Why should you, dearest? It’ll just be business. I certainly don’t intend to cross the ancestral threshold. I thought I might stay with Edith or somebody. I’ll make some calls in the morning.”

“I suppose it’s important enough to make the effort,” he said judiciously. A whole weekend with Mark! The money seemed insignificant compared to this.

“Important enough! Have you looked at our bank account recently? I wouldn’t be surprised if I can settle the whole thing in a day. Lawyers like to play games with each other.”

“If anybody can beat lawyers at their own game, I’m sure you can, Clarry. We better drink to your success.” He would have the precious gift of time, time to get to know Mark, time to get his fill of him perhaps, time to think about it calmly so that he wouldn’t unwittingly incur obligations because his judgment was clouded by snatched, unsatisfactory moments with him.

They had drinks together. She put together one of her slapdash meals that had improved with the growing availability of prepared and packaged and frozen foods. He was so stirred sexually that it spilled over to include Clara, and he was actually looking forward to getting her into bed instead of regarding it as an aspect of life to be taken as it came. They would never have children. Surely this freed him to make the most of a male lover if he chose. The thought of a male lover still brought terrors. Mark could conceivably ruin him, of course; but he had seen his smile.

He woke up the next morning riding a wave of happy anticipation. Yesterday he had discovered treasure. Today he could look forward to enjoying it. He asked Clara at the office if she were still planning to go to Cleveland the next day and was told that her plans were made. She was taking a plane the next morning. As the afternoon drew to a close, he worked himself into a fine pitch of excitement. Would there be a note when he got home? He felt there had been little time for Mark to look for a room, pack, and move into it, yet he had promised not to keep him waiting long. If the note were there, he should probably wait till tomorrow to see him, when Clara would be safely out of town. He mustn’t push his luck.

He and Clara went home together. As soon as he stepped into the entrance, he saw that their mailbox was empty, but he opened it to make sure a slip of paper hadn’t got caught on the side somewhere. “Nothing,” he said.

“That was fairly obvious, dearest,” Clara pointed out.

He made them drinks and changed into slacks and an old smoking jacket to make it clear that the day was over as far as he was concerned. He hurried so as not to be caught by the doorbell in the midst of changing. Once he had settled down in the living room with his drink, he relaxed. It probably would be better if Mark didn’t show up until the next day. When Clara was gone, he would call the office and cancel all his appointments and stay at home and wait for him. Clara passed him on her way to the kitchen. She was barely out of sight when the bell rang.

He forced himself to sit quietly, while his heart leaped up in his chest. “Are you expecting anyone?” he called.

“No.”

“I’ll get it.” He rose slowly, in case Clara came out, and sauntered over to the button to release the catch downstairs. He glanced behind him and darted out the door and closed it and ran to the head of the stairs. Mark was mounting them. He flung himself down them and they stopped, facing each other, between floors. Their eyes met and questioned each other. They were both breathing rapidly.

“God, I’ve been praying for you,” Walter whispered.

“I guess it wasn’t a dream,” Mark said in an undertone.

“No.”

Mark held out an envelope. “The address is in there.”

Walter took and put it in his pocket. “Nearby?”

“Very.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. After dinner. I shouldn’t be later than 10. You’ll be there?”

“Of course.”

Walter saw that he was wearing a light suit, which made his dark good looks even more striking than before. He put his hand on his shoulder and gripped it. His ears were alert for sounds. He glanced up and down the stairs and darted his head forward and quickly kissed Mark on the lips. “I’ve been thinking about you without stopping.”

Mark lifted a beautiful hand and put it on Walter’s. “You’re my sexy kid,” he murmured.

“Yeah. I can’t wait.” He squeezed Mark’s hand and broke from him and leaped up the stairs two at a time. When he glanced down at the turning, the stairwell was empty. He patted the envelope in his pocket and took a deep breath and went to his door and rang. In a moment Clara let him in.

“Sorry. I locked myself out without thinking.” He closed the door behind him and went to his drink. “It was an actor we know–I can’t remember his name–he wanted to know if we’re casting. It’s incredible, people think they have the right to bother me at home.”