A Most Personal Property (Ganymede Quartet Book 1) (55 page)

As they rode back to the stables, Henry thought more on his desire to kiss Martin and how unfair it was that he couldn’t do as he pleased—though of course there weren’t men and women kissing one another on the bridle trail, either. But Henry liked the idea of there being a place outside of his own bedroom where he could behave with Martin as he wished, whether it be a secret spot in the park or in some louche neighborhood downtown.

He had to wait until they were home, in his bedroom, before he could give Martin the kiss he’d wanted to give him back on the trail, and perhaps it was all the better for the wait, but Henry held onto the idea of a place where he might be himself, in full expression, and determined that he would find it, if such a place could be found.

Over the next few days, Louis and Freddie circulated the idea that their entire group should make a trip to the amusements at the shore before the end of the season, and by Friday almost everyone was on board. Henry liked the amusement park quite well for its own sake, but he was especially looking forward to sharing it with Martin, who was nearly giddy with excitement.

Louis had an ulterior motive, one which he shared with most of their friends: he wanted to meet working-class girls of loose morals and try things on with them. The handsome slaves were to serve as bait and their masters would reap the bounty. Henry disliked this entire scheme but felt that it was something a normal boy would want to do, and so tried to keep his feelings to himself. Still, Louis noted his lack of enthusiasm.

“Don’t you want to meet a girl, Henry?” Louis was, as always, baffled by Henry’s reticence. “It’s just for fun, after all—you aren’t going to have to marry her, for chrissakes!”

“I-I just don’t really want—”

“You could
kiss
her, Henry! Just to try it! Don’t you want to do that?”

Henry thought of how much he loved kissing Martin every day and wanted nothing less than to kiss some strange girl, some grubby factory worker.

“And, really, Henry,” Louis continued, “if anyone’s going to get a girl to kiss him, it’ll be you. Girls always like you.”

“I don’t know,” Henry said, in response to the whole idea. “I don’t know, Louis.”

“I don’t know why you’re so nervous,” Louis said, baffled. “A big, handsome guy like you has nothing to worry about. It’s the guys like me who have our work cut out for us.”

“Aw, you’re not so bad,” Henry said, giving him a nudge. “A girl just needs to get to know you.” He had more sense than to claim Louis was handsome; Louis knew better and would not like him for saying it.

It was arranged that all the boys and their slaves would meet downtown on Sunday, after all the church-goers were freed for the day, and would take the train to the shore as a group.

Sunday morning, upon waking, Henry pulled Martin into bed with him, sucked his cock, and then fucked him until he came again. While Martin lay limp on the bed, saying,
My god, Henry
, he buried his face in Martin’s hair and breathed him in, and felt somehow fortified to face a bunch of strange girls, if necessary.

He wore his favorite suit, the black-and-grey check, to further bolster his morale, but when Martin complimented him on how handsome he looked, he wondered if it might have been better to wear something plainer, something that would not draw attention to his appearance. It was, however, too late to change. He went downstairs, finding the breakfast room empty, and ate coddled eggs, bacon, sausage, and two helpings of French toast along with his coffee. While he was still sopping up syrup with the French toast, Louis and Peter were announced and Henry told Paul to bring them in.

“Do you want some breakfast? There’s plenty.”

“No thanks. I ate loads at home,” Louis said. “Are you ready?” He was jittery, eager to be on their way.

They all collected their hats and went out to catch the omnibus.

Charles and Robert and Gordon were all at the station downtown with their slaves. “Who else are we waiting for?” Louis asked.

“Josh is coming,” Gordon told them. “I thought Freddie and Wendell, too.”

“Wendell can’t come,” Louis informed him. “His great aunt is visiting or something.”

“Josh and Freddie go to the same church,” Gordon said, “so they’ll probably come together.”

While they waited for the rest of the boys to arrive, Henry watched the slaves together, Martin listening to something that Julian was saying close to his ear while they watched Simon and Dick play red hands. Henry liked how they looked together, both tall, haughty beauties, but he didn’t like Julian whispering to Martin so intimately. Martin smiled and then laughed at whatever Julian had told him.

Josh and Freddie arrived with Miles and Tom, and Henry noted with a frown how glad Martin and Tom were to see one another and wished he would not be so jealous. The slaves were always affectionate with one another—not inappropriately, but more so than Henry liked. Tom approached Martin with enthusiasm and they grasped one another’s hands for a few seconds while they smiled and exchanged greetings, keeping the contact for much longer than free boys might, but there was nothing in it for Henry to fault; it was just how slaves were with each other. Martin seemed to simply enjoy Tom’s company, and even though Henry was sure Tom wanted something more, Tom had never given any indication he would act on those desires, nor had Martin given any indication he would respond. They were both good slaves and Henry was being ridiculous.

The ride to the shore took about forty-five minutes. The slaves stood in the aisle, pushed and jostled by the working-class people who filled up the car. Louis spent the time telling the others about James’ latest trouble, something to do with a barkeeper’s daughter who was better-connected than James had anticipated.

“Now she wants him to marry her,” Louis said. “As if that will happen!”

Henry didn’t understand why James chased women like he did. He had Joseph, and even if Joseph wasn’t exactly what he wanted—obviously—he only had to wait a few years and he’d be married to some appropriate woman he could have sex with whenever he liked. Of course, Henry realized he was odd in this regard. He supposed he liked women well enough, so far as he knew any—he just didn’t want anything to do with them romantically or sexually. Now that he had Martin, he didn’t think he’d ever want anything to do with another man, for that matter. They had been having sex two or three times a day and Henry found he did not tire of Martin’s pliant body, the taste and smell of him, the exciting sounds he made and the bold things he said. He seemed quite perfect; Henry could have dreamed no better partner for himself. He alternated between worry that Martin would tire of him, and the comfort of knowing that Martin had no choice in the matter.

Now Louis said, “James says he’ll take me to one of these high-class houses he likes here in town. He says he’ll introduce me to a friendly girl.”

Henry had not heard this before and thought it was a bad idea. He also feared that he’d be expected to go along.

“Will he take all of us?” Freddie asked. “I want to go, too.”

“Probably just me and Henry,” Louis told him. “Henry’s practically another brother, after all.”

Henry opened his mouth to say he didn’t want to go, but thought better of it and shut it again. He would think of an excuse later.

Most of their fellow passengers got off the train when they did; even this late in the season, the shore was a draw.

“Let’s go to the Ferris wheel first, then the park,” Robert suggested. “I promised Dick he’d get to go on it.” Everyone was amenable, having essentially made the same promise to their own slaves. They walked to the Ferris wheel and got on line. The massive wheel suitably impressed the slaves; the boys, having ridden it before, acted more jaded than they were. Henry gave Martin a nickel to get hot dogs for both of them from a stand along the way, so then everyone had to have hot dogs. Charles got mustard on his jacket and Simon hurriedly ate his hot dog in three bites so that he could get to work on the stain with his handkerchief.

They were all together in one car, along with some older ladies who they politely ignored. Henry maneuvered to stand near Martin so that he might watch his reactions to the ride and the view. As the car rose and turned in the air, Martin wore an expression of growing wonderment, eyes wide and lips parted. He turned to Henry, putting a hand on his arm. “Sir, isn’t it amazing?”

“Yes, it is,” Henry agreed, though what he really meant was that Martin was amazing.

The great wheel made twelve stops on its way around, one for each of the cars to empty and fill again, and once all cars were full, it made a complete rotation at speed. The slaves made startled exclamations and clutched each other’s arms for balance, as did the group of older ladies, but the boys feigned utter nonchalance, hands in pockets, bored expressions. Henry noted that Tom clung to Martin’s arm and felt annoyed with himself for noticing.

Stepping out of the wheel car, they walked the short distance to the boardwalk and Henry noted that it was quite chilly, the breeze brisk and salty. There was a group of girls walking ahead of them, young ladies with slaves and a pair of matronly chaperones. A few of the girls held parasols, but most didn’t bother; the sun was neither hot nor high.

“Look, girls,” Louis said, stating the obvious, as he elbowed Henry. “Let’s get in front of them.”

The boys hurried past the girls, their slaves close on their heels. Louis turned around, walking backwards, and tipped his hat. “Hello, ladies.” The other boys tipped their hats, as well, though Henry put little enthusiasm behind it.

The girls were divided in their response, half of them giggling behind their hands, and the other half putting their noses in the air. Their chaperones looked disapproving. Proper young ladies would not be picked up on the street by strangers. Knowing this, Louis didn’t press his luck. If they were going to get anywhere with girls, it would be with poor girls, girls without slaves or chaperones.

The symbol of Steeplechase Park was a grinning man with more than his share of teeth, and this leering face loomed over the gate. The park was entered through a great rotating drum called the Barrel of Fun; if you walked at a diagonal, you had a good chance of making it unscathed to the other end, your dignity intact. Attempting to walk straight through, however, would result in catastrophe: a fall, limbs tangling with those of other patrons, whether those persons be known to you or not. Louis’ strategy was to enter the park right behind a bunch of girls with the idea being that they could end up on the ground in compromising positions with the young ladies.

They sent the slaves through first—Martin turning and giving Henry a panicked look—and laughed as they contended with the rotating floor, falling over each other and scrambling for the far end of the barrel on hands and knees.

There was a likely group of girls, plainly dressed and without slaves, behind the boys in line. After sending the slaves through, the boys loitered, waiting for the girls. “After you, ladies,” Charles said, with his most charming smile.

The girls giggled and stepped cautiously into the barrel. They apparently did not know the trick of it, and quickly began falling about.

“Oh, let me help you up, miss,” Louis said solicitously, bending to offer a girl his arm, then using her weight as an excuse to fall on top of her. She shrieked, laughing but mortified, and Louis, feigning flustered dismay, continued to “help” her get to her feet, taking many liberties in the process. The rest of the boys carried on similarly, groping and grabbing, all except for Henry. There were only five girls in any case, so Henry thought it was all right that he wasn’t trying to paw one of them. Henry picked his way among his comrades’ bodies, occasionally lurching to prop himself up with a hand on the wall of the barrel, and staggered out the other end to go stand with the slaves.

“You don’t want any of the ladies, then, Sir?” Julian asked, his gaze sharp, and Henry frowned, thinking Julian far too clever. He stared Julian down and was gratified by how quickly the slave capitulated, eyes averted, head bowed.

Martin came close. “Sir? Is everything all right?” He shot Julian a pointed look.

“Everything’s fine,” Henry assured him. Julian seemed quite sufficiently cowed, and now Martin was glaring at Julian, too. “Don’t worry about it.” Touched by Martin coming so quickly to his defense, he felt generous. “Have fun with your friends today, all right?”

“Of course, Sir. Thank you.”

The rest of the boys emerged from the tunnel and helped the girls to climb out, holding their hands or even daring to take them by the waist to lift them away from the great drum. Four of the girls separated from the boys as soon as they exited the tunnel and went to stand together in a clump away from the boys, but the fifth girl stayed near Louis.

“So sorry, miss,” Louis was saying, still holding his girl’s hand. “I thought I could be of service, but I think I only made things worse. I do hope you’re all right.”

“I appreciated your help, sir, I did,” the girl avowed. She was a plain little thing with rabbity teeth. “You were most kind.” She realized he still had hold of her hand and gave a little squeak, pulling her hand back.