How to Avoid Sex (7 page)

“Sorry about the rough ride,” said Windsor. “Welcome to the impossible.”

The floor we were on consisted of a single door housed within a small landing. A cautionary sign affixed to the door read ‘PLEASE KEEP YOUR FEET OFF THE SEATS’. I made a mental note of this. I wasn’t in a position to understand whether this was whimsical chair humour or a genuine plea. I turned my head so Windsor could open the door.

The room in which I was introduced embodied everything I held dear. There was a breathtaking display of hats lining the feature wall, which immediately caught my attention. Windsor, like myself, was a man of superior taste. Volumes of books concerning etiquette (in both modern and historical contexts) sat in mahogany bookcases. I wanted to paw through them, but the irony of bypassing etiquette to pursue books about that very topic didn’t sit well. Windsor’s whole house felt like the study of a gentleman from 1920s Britain. Had I the means to achieve it, this was precisely the abode I’d want for myself.

“Your apartment is utterly enchanting,” I said.

“Thank you.”

I turned around to face Windsor. He had two glasses of cognac sitting on his seat. I cupped one of the glasses in my hand and waited for it to warm.

“Why don’t we move to the sitting room,” said Windsor.

In light of everything, this was a highly suggestive statement, but I flushed it from my mind and followed. The first thing I noticed about the ‘sitting room’ was its ascetic qualities. Save for Windsor and myself, the room was barren. I took an unsophisticated gulp of my cognac, well before it had finished warming. It was smooth with the barest hint of alcohol – a superior brand no doubt.

“Why are you so nervous, Montgomery? I’m not going to hurt you. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Not knowing what else to do, I took another gulp of the cognac. Windsor moved toward the centre of the room and remained in this position.

“Would you like to sit down, Montgomery?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted.

“What is your main objection?”

I consumed the rest of my cognac in several boorish gulps before continuing. “I don’t know if we’re about to have sex or not.”

Windsor rattled back and forth while laughing in that artificial way of his. My anxiety was spiking.

“I assure you that sitting down on me will not constitute sex in the slightest. I’m not asking you to remove your clothing, and I’m certainly not asking you to involve your genitalia in the act. It’s quite late and I’m sure you’d like to relax. I am just like any chair you’ve ever sat on; albeit of a higher build quality. Take a seat Montgomery. Please.”

I began to move toward him, incapable of clear thought. When within sitting distance I plucked up the second glass of cognac and turned with my backside toward him.

“Sit, Monty. Sit!”

My leg muscles starting shaking as I attempted to control the speed of my descent.

“Yes, Monty!”

I edged ever closer and sensed a certain warm aura that surrounded Windsor’s surface.

“Do it!”

The aura pulled me down until my backside had landed in Windsor’s seat. I started to hyperventilate.

“Yes, Monty! Yes! Yes!”

Windsor was writhing and moaning beneath me. These were primal sounds that predated society. I closed my eyes as if such a thing would diminish what was happening, but it only focused my ears more acutely on the multifarious sounds Windsor was emitting.

“Grind that arse into me, Monty. Really let me have it!”

I found myself obeying his command and squirmed and shifted on his seat. I brought the second glass of cognac to my lips and skulled for all I was worth. It burned my throat, but didn’t erase the reality of the situation.

“Don’t stop! I’m your filthy fucking chair! Use me! USE ME!”

I began to bump up and down causing Windsor to squeak and moan with each repetition. He vibrated beneath me and with one final groan, he leaned backward on two legs so the he and I were on the verge of tipping. When we landed back on all four legs there was a thud that jolted me.

What had just happened? Despite the claim that this act wouldn’t constitute sex in the slightest, I felt dirty and violated. Windsor was rocking gently and panting, lost in the throes of some primal post-orgasmia. I became aware of a warm wetness seeping into my pants. I ran my finger along
the edge of the seat. A viscous liquid with an oceanic scent was seeping from Windsor’s grain. He was soaked in it. I lunged from the seat and threw open the door of the sitting room.

“Monty, wait!” cried Windsor, but I had no time for it. I felt tears welling in my eyes and wanted nothing else but escape. I heard him scraping his way toward me. I refused to look, instead I hastened my exit. The tears were starting to flow and my eyes were burning. I slapped my palm against the elevator button and slipped inside when the doors opened. As they closed behind me, I broke down into a wretched sob. Being on a floor that didn’t exist, there were no buttons anywhere in the elevator. I slumped against the wall in defeat and slowly slid to the ground where I curled in a ball and heaved my despair. The doors opened once more. I glanced toward them and, through tear-burned eyes, saw Windsor. I felt powerless.

“Oh dear! Monty! I’m so, so sorry. Please can we talk about this? I had no idea.”

He rushed toward me until there was nothing but him. I scrunched my eyes shut, trying not to acknowledge the situation. Vomit was climbing my gullet, which refused to swallow down.

“Please speak to me, Monty. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

The vomit gushed from my mouth, sullying my suit and pooling beneath me. I felt as though my foot was being tugged at, a feeling I kicked against to no avail. With my eyes toward the ceiling, I was dragged back into Windsor’s impossible apartment.

“Go away,” I sobbed. “I want to be alone.”

But the dragging continued until I was once more in the belly of the beast. Then, as if my violation weren’t complete enough, my soiled clothes were stripped off and replaced by a blanket. I clutched it close and buried my head beneath it, determined not to let Windsor see me. The blanket was a cave I could seek refuge in.

“It’s okay, Monty. Just rest. Allow yourself to understand what has happened between us.”

The brute, who only moments prior had soiled me, was now absent in Windsor’s voice. He sounded just like the enchanting chair I had enjoyed the greatest night of my life with. I wanted it to stop. The strings of my heart were being plucked against my wishes. How could Windsor exist as two vastly different things at the one time? Where was this sex beast lurking when we were discussing our myriad fancies over dinner? I had an intuitive sense that the Windsor who swept me off my feet was
the real Windsor. But then again… wasn’t the pervert an equally valid expression of his true self? Perhaps I was too simple-minded in my approach to others. I’ve always been very quick to paint others with an unkind brush.

My eyes were losing the ability to remain open and I began to give in. From outside the cocoon of my blanket, Windsor was singing Warrant songs in a hushed lullaby tone. His androgynous voice tiptoed into my ears, caressing me in a deep, satisfying place. One-by-one I felt my anxieties collapsing in exhausted heaps. Each new collapse freed me a little more. It had been a long day. A day unlike any I had ever experienced. My eyes could no longer open. My brain activity was little more than a standby hum. I was asleep.

…

I was roused awake by trilling insects. Windsor was by my side, which was a comforting feeling. Windsor represented a conflict that I had to overcome, but he was still a great source of comfort and warmth.

“Go back to sleep, Monty. It’s still so early.”

“What time is it?”

“Autumn. Go back to sleep.”

He looked majestic in the dull lamp light. Without thought, I clasped my hand around one of his legs. “Last night really disturbed me,” I said.

“Can I be straight with you?” he said.

I wormed my way closer toward him so my shoulder was kissing the leg I clasped. “Please do.”

“I feel something very special between you and I. Something I have never felt before. After one evening with you, it’s as if you’ve always been in my life. I never thought such a connection possible. I would never have the courage to verbalise such feelings so early into a relationship, but I believe you feel it too.”

I felt my heart curling into a smile. Windsor’s words were beautiful. They made me feel beautiful. It hadn’t dawned on me how much I longed to be loved.

“I feel it too,” I said quietly.

“I lost control last night, Monty. I was ravenous with desire. You have to understand… it has been so long since I’ve experienced sexual release. I know that doesn’t excuse what happened, but if I were being honest, I don’t believe I could have prevented my behaviour. The only way I can experience release is via my primary function. To put it bluntly… I can’t sit on myself. I turned an activity that you had no need to experience as sex into sex, and for that I eternally apologise. I understand if you never want to see me again. It would break my heart, but I’d understand. If you can find it within to forgive me, I promise to never put you through something like that again. You won’t even have to sit on me until you feel ready. And you may never feel ready. I accept that. I just want to explore this connection we have.”

Windsor was an expert at setting my mind at ease. He possessed the exact pattern of words capable of unlocking the ciphers within me. I had to be wary of this. I was liable to give in completely and potentially find myself in tears again. I didn’t want what was happening between the two of us to end. However, for this to progress with respect and understanding, we had to take our foot off the accelerator.

“I want to explore the connection too,” I said. “But I will need a little time to organise the mess of thoughts strewn around my brain. What happened last night cannot happen again. I don’t think we’d survive it.”

“Of course, Monty.”

There was palpable relief in his voice, which in turn relieved me. His tone mimicked his words. When he spoke of his feelings toward me, I knew he meant them.

“I’m going to go home for a while. When I’m ready, I’ll contact you. Without meaning to sound insensitive, please don’t attempt to contact me before I contact you. I hope you understand.”

“Of course. Do what you need to do. I’ll be waiting.”

And I believed he would.

CHAPTER 10

How does one kill time when they’re pretending to ‘think things over’? That was the dilemma I now faced. The second I left Windsor, I knew I wanted to pursue a relationship, but I didn’t want to appear so crass as to dive right in. It was important for me to be seen as a man willing to take a step back from the fray in the interest of reason and long-term benefit. How would it look for me to breakdown in a mess only to wipe the slate clean within hours of the collapse? Yes… I acknowledge that wiping the slate clean was precisely what happened, but I didn’t need anyone else to know that. I was still concerned about the sexual element enforcing itself on our relationship, but I was convinced we could navigate this with maturity.

I decided to spend my time trying to understand the sexual urge that afflicted Windsor. It wouldn’t do for me to bumble my way through each such encounter with disgust. Perhaps if I approached it with a scientific philosophy, I could lessen the power of my disgust. All I needed was the wherewithal to endure Windsor’s carnal needs and I’d be able to enjoy the many glorious aspects to our relationship. I wanted to be a good partner. He deserved more than my shameful display the night prior and I deserved more than his seeping lust. By stepping toward each other and embracing the new while respecting the old, our bond could only grow. My militant stance concerning sex was not in the relationship’s best interest. As much as it pained me, I knew this to be true. This was by no means a capitulation to sex on my part, but I didn’t want this to damage the relationship, which was above my ideology.

The phone book provided my means of seeking sexual understanding. I found the number of a so-called ‘sex guru’ who operated from an office not far from me. Her name was Perineum Applebaum and she promised confidential satisfaction. Her business was called ‘Sexualis Delirium’, which I appreciated for faux Latin reasons. By the time my sabbatical was over, Windsor would have satisfaction without my added histrionics. I would truly be the partner he deserved.

The subdued nature of the flat hat made it an appropriate choice for my visit to ‘Sexualis Delirium’. I felt almost invisible as I made my way through the busy city streets. It massaged my head, promising continued discretion. Thankfully my trek took me to areas of the city I rarely visited,
so the likelihood of seeing anyone I knew was low. ‘Sexualis Delirium’ was secreted away in an alley, which gave me a further sense of privacy.

The building was painted an unfortunate shade of pink, which did little to impress me, but I approached the door with Windsor in mind. A gentleman whose face was primarily moustache stood before the entrance.

“Hello sir,” he said. “May we help you?”

“Well… um… well,” I blubbered, “I have an… appointment.”

“Do you now? And whom is this appointment with?”