An Idol for Others (37 page)

“Being in love is being in love,” Mark insisted. “You’d know what to do about it if I were a girl.”

“But, Christ, Mark, it’s entirely different. If you were a girl, I’d already be thinking about divorcing Clara and marrying you and having a family and all the rest of it. Besides, I’ve never felt like this with any girl.”

“Thanks.” He dropped his eyes and took a swallow of his drink. “What are you thinking about? She’s coming home tomorrow or the next day. What happens then?”

“I’m thinking about today and having hundreds more like it. You’ll meet Clara. I’ll tell her how much I like you. We’ll do all the things friends do. We’re going to be together. There’s no question about that.”

“Except that we won’t spend nights together.”

“Even that should be possible sometimes.”

Mark lifted his eyes to him. “Don’t you understand that today would’ve been entirely different if we hadn’t waken up together and made love right off and known that our bed was waiting for us whenever we needed it? There’s a difference between having an affair and living together.”

“I haven’t noticed our making love has much to do with whether it’s night or day. Let’s put it simply. Can you honestly imagine my divorcing Clara so that we can keep house together?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

He touched Mark’s cheek. He felt the proud shoulders against his arm, lightly balanced matador’s shoulders. Their eyes searched each other out. “You’re magnificent. Apollo. A divine body that makes male or female unimportant. All right. Let’s say it could happen, but you must admit it’s a peculiar thought for somebody who’s never dreamed of having a serious affair with a guy.”

Mark shot up, still on his knees, and pushed Walter’s legs apart and thrust himself between them. He left one hand on Walter’s cock and tangled the other in his hair. He pulled his head to him and kissed him hard, forcing his tongue into his mouth. Once again Walter felt his domination threatened. He reached out for him. Mark jerked his head back and looked at him with hard, demanding eyes. “Listen to me, damn it. You want me more than I’ve ever been wanted. You take me in a way that nobody’s ever taken me. I’ve given myself to you more completely than I thought was possible. I’ve let myself be your whore. That might’ve been enough for me, but you won’t let it be. I’ve tried to make it easy for you by not saying anything, but we’ve gone too far.”

“I haven’t asked you not to say anything,” Walter said placatingly, thrilled by the strength he felt for him, feeling the unfamiliar yielding in himself but still unwilling to surrender his controlling authority. “You can say anything you like.”

“Then listen. We’re so in love with each other that I don’t care about anything anymore. God, you really like me to say it, don’t you? I’ll remember that in case you ever have any trouble getting it up. You’re queer for me. Why not admit it? God knows, I don’t want you to be queer for anybody else.”

“It’s not a question of admitting anything. If you want to call it being in love with each other, all right. I haven’t denied it. All I’ve–”

The telephone rang. They sprang up as if the police were battering down the door. Walter moved toward the phone, grateful for the release. He turned his back on Mark and answered. It was the expected call. He felt a brief numbing shock at being summoned back to Clara’s world by the sound of her voice.

Mercifully, she had a lot to say. He listened with sufficient attention to make appropriate replies without attempting to take in all the business details. Elation soared through him so that he had to take a grip on himself to keep from roaring with laughter when she said she was staying till Monday, perhaps Tuesday.

“I’ll call the office by noon and let you know, dearest,” Clara said.

“Fine. I mean, I’m sorry you have to stay over. It’s a damn bore. I’ll be waiting to hear.” He forced himself to continue to chat with her, leaving her the initiative to terminate the call. She finally did so, and he hung up and turned back to the room, beaming. Mark was leaning over a table leafing through an art book. He looked up, and they moved to each other and stood face-to-face with their hands on each other’s waists.

“Did you follow that, sweetheart?”

“I tried not to listen.”

“We’re still in luck. She’s not coming back till Monday, maybe even Tuesday. It looks as if we may end up having almost a whole week to ourselves.” Walter pulled him closer so that they were touching all down the front. “So. Is it all settled? Have we decided we’re in love with each other?”

“Thank God you can kid about it,” Mark said, smiling. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter what we call it. All I care about is what we do about it.”

“I have some ideas. I want to tell you what I’ve been thinking.” Talking about being in love was thrilling in its way; he wanted to pin it down to practical considerations. Knowing that Clara wasn’t about to land on him was a help. “Shall we have one more drink and talk about it before we go home?” They released each other, and Walter took his hand, and they went together to replenish their glasses. They went hand in hand to the sofa and sat, close enough to reach each other but not touching.”

“First of all, how would you like to work for me?”

Mark sat back, his eyes fixed on his glass. “In what way?” he asked cautiously.

“As my assistant, private secretary, a little bit of everything. The money wouldn’t be very good, maybe not as much as you’re making now. You have no experience, but you’re very intelligent; our tastes are the same, and, God knows, I’d be able to count on you.”

Mark closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again. His smile was wide and ravishing. “The amazing Mr. Makin. You’re still there, so I guess you’re real, but I don’t believe it.”

“You think it’s a good idea?” The thought of hiring Mark on a permanent basis had been maturing in the back of his mind almost without his knowing it. Mark had passed all the tests Walter may have subconsciously set for him. Clara was the only problem. “We can invent a bit of experience for you. We’ve got to be careful how we work you into the picture. Clara’s got to like you. If we’re smart, she will.”

“Can we be lovers and work together and not have people suspect something?” Mark said with obvious reluctance, scrupulously giving Walter an out. Walter noted it as another high mark in his favor.

“Why should they? Maybe we’ll invent an ex-wife for you. If you flirt a bit with the girls around the theater and not at all with the boys, there won’t be any talk worth worrying about, so long as nothing dreadful emerges from your lurid past. I’ve always had a male assistant, anyway. We’re going to Europe in five or six weeks. As soon as Clara gets this money business straightened out, we’ll be filthy rich. If we get you launched properly, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t decide to take you with us to give you a look at what’s going on over there. We’re planning to move into a much bigger place too. I’ll see that there’s a room for you. When we get going in the fall, I’ll work up some sort of crisis that makes it more convenient for me to have you available both day and night. Once you’re in, it can turn into a permanent arrangement. It’s high time I stopped sharing a bedroom with Clara. We’re the only couple I know who still do after ten years of marriage. We’ll be able to creep into bed with each other. How does that strike you?”

Mark was gazing at him. The smile had vanished. “My God,” he said. “You really do want me to belong to you. As far as I’m concerned, I’m yours. I might even accept the creeping into bed part. I’m not sure. Let’s go home. I’ve got to touch you, and I don’t want anything to happen here. Let’s get going. You’ll have to say it all over again before I can take it in.”

He was reacting just as Walter would have wanted him to, without gratitude but soberly with undemanding acceptance. It would be insane to consider tearing his life apart, but for them to have a life together in conjunction with the life he and Clara had created made exciting sense.

They rose and stood looking into each other’s eyes, keeping their distance. “I’ll tell you one thing,” Walter said. “I wouldn’t be talking about a job, no matter how much I love you, if I didn’t think you’d be damned good at it. You don’t know what I’m like when I’m working. I get awfully absorbed. You probably won’t like it at first until you get used to it.”

“I’ll know how to handle you. I should think it would be good to have an assistant who adores you. Now please. Out. I feel a modicum of desire coming on. I don’t want to end up on the bathroom floor.”

Walter snapped out lights, and they left after exchanging a quick kiss at the door.

They stayed up all night and slept till noon. Eventually Mark pulled some clothes on and went out for the Sunday papers and brought them back along with some sandwiches and beer. Walter waited, wearing only a pair of Mark’s blue jeans that were too short for him. Mark laughed when he saw him.

“God, you’re cute and sexy. Seeing you in something of mine gives my heart the flips.” He put the papers and the bag of provisions on the table. “I should’ve looked for a real apartment. I hate having to go out to restaurants all the time. I’d like to cook for you. I’m good at it.”

“That’s the longest time we’ve been apart for almost three days. I didn’t like it.”

“I know. It really hurts when we’re not near each other.”

Walter watched him as he slipped off his jacket and moved across the room to hang it up. He was his usual immaculate self, shaved and combed, shining with cleanliness. Walter felt as if they were mated, as animals mate, drawn together by some compulsion in the blood without the need of a conscious exercise of will, irrevocably bound by the fact of being together. Mark returned and moved in close to him and let his fingers stray over his bare torso.

Walter ran the back of his hand along his hard jaw. “I almost wish Clara were coming back today, after all. I can’t wait for you to meet her and get you started at the office where I can look at you all day.”

“I’m scared, naturally. Everything you say about the job sounds fascinating, and I think I can do it. It’s the other part that worries me. You have to admit it sounds strange. What it amounts to is living as a three-some–a ménage à trois. Is that anywhere near the right way to pronounce it? I can’t help feeling we’re going to end up wanting to be on our own, but of course I’m prejudiced.”

“Try not to be, darling. It seems strange to us because we know, but it shouldn’t to her. It’ll just be my finding a friend I want near me. Europe and being in hotels should be fun. She likes to go shop. We’ll be able to do things together and rush off to bed constantly. Once we’re back here in a big place, it’ll be like being on our own a lot of the time. There’ll be difficulties at first, I grant you. We’re going to have to be awfully careful.”

“I don’t mind being careful if we have our private time. Like this.”

“Like this, sweetheart. God knows, I’m tempted to tell her the works and sweat it out and see what happens. I even want to tell her, but I know she’d manage somehow to break us up.”

“Would she? It’s maybe none of my business, but I still don’t have a very clear idea what you feel about her.”

“Oh, lord.” He gave Mark a hug and kissed his cheek and sat in a straight chair at the table. Mark began to take things from the bag. Each time his hand emerged from it. Walter got a jolt of sensual pleasure. “She’s the girl I’ve always wanted to be with. I love her. It wouldn’t be fair to try to compare the way I feel about her and the things I feel with you. It’s different with a girl. With you–it’s a raging volcano that makes everything else seem pretty pale. I like you in a way that men probably never like women. Still, Clara and I are a pair. We’ve created a sort of legend together. That may sound silly, but I can’t imagine doing anything to destroy it.”

Mark moved around behind him and stroked his shoulders. “Yes. Well, I’ll remember that. If that’s the way it has to be, we’ll try to make it work.” Mark’s hands grew possessive, and their caress moved down over his chest. “Let’s get some food into us.” He pulled the other chair close to Walter and sat. He unwrapped sandwiches and poured beer. Their talk returned to Clara. They had settled that he would come to Tenth Street for drinks one evening during the week when others would be there.

“She’ll know you’re the model for the poster, of course,” Walter said. “The pictures should be ready tomorrow.”

“You mean, she’ll see all of me, before you do the cropping you talked about?”

“Of course. I don’t think we should deny her that pleasure.”

“That’s enough to make a fella shy.”

“I know she’s going to like you. She likes people who look like somebody but who’ve done it on their own. Like me. I think we’re definitely going to have to give you an ex-wife. You got married very young–when you were in the Army. You’d planned to go to college, but there you were with a wife and a baby so you had to go to work. You’ve had many jobs, but you were interested in the theater, and in your spare time–no. Hey, wait a minute. I know. Your wife was from New Brunswick, New Jersey, and you went there with her, and you had all these jobs, but you managed to do a lot of work with the little theater group there. You knew people who had known me; and when your marriage broke up, somebody gave you a letter of introduction to me. When you came back to New York, you started doing more and more modeling and lost the letter and didn’t do anything about it. Then when you met me the other day you naturally talked about it; we hit it off, and I immediately thought you might be the solution to the assistant problem. I took you to dinner at Le Pavillon to see if you’d make a good appearance in public. There. How about that? What could be simpler?”

“You’re wasting your time in the theater. You should write a novel. That
is
why you took me to Le Pavilion, isn’t it?” They looked at each other and laughed.

“I swear to God I didn’t think about it until we were there, and then you were so superb that I couldn’t help thinking how lucky I was to have found you. I don’t mean personally.
Lucky
is hardly a word for that. I was already thinking about the job.”

“When do you think it’ll start?”