Gastien Pt 1 (54 page)

You decided to suck Jean Luc’s
bite
for money.
Non
! Don’t panic! Just accept it for what it is. You sucked someone’s penis, and he paid you very well for it. You did not do it out of depravity. You did not do it out of greed. You did it because you had to, in order to live your dream. You ate garbage, you ate vomit, and you sucked someone’s penis. And you know what? You are still the same person you were before doing that, only stronger. You traded that sex service for security. That is all, put simply. It does not define who you are. No one can change who you are, unless you let them. Gastien found that he was at peace with that.

He went on. Now, start thinking about when it changed. You got power hungry. You started to taunt Jean Luc. Do you see that the sin here, if there is one, is not the sex act, but the fact that you enjoyed taunting him?
Non
, rethink that….you did tease him, but he wanted that. You did what he wanted, so that you would feel that you honored the agreement. You need to take back that you got too power hungry. You did a little, but mostly you performed how he wanted. You could not help the sarcastic thoughts during those times. You were not happy servicing a man. Those thoughts were bound to come into your head. Lighten up on yourself, and let it go.

It was not your fault he fell so hard in love with you. That was his mental issue. You told him up front that you felt nothing. You kept your part of that bargain. Gastien just let himself breathe awhile.

Move on to the rape.
Non
,
Non
…don’t panic. You are far away from them now. That was awful. It was hell. But what happened was NOT your fault in any way. Should you have agreed to service those men? Again, you know the answer. That decision was ugly. However, you did it with honest intentions, for a very good reason. You expected those men to honor Jean Luc’s requests. To be fair, you were naïve not to worry about what could possibly happen. But, those men were deviants. They were not looking for sex, they were looking to abuse you, shame you and have power over you. Don’t just blame Sébastien. All five of them agreed.
Non
, don’t panic. You did NOT cause it. You could not win there! You are very lucky to be alive, and free of injury or disease.

You could not get out of the room. You had no choice once you got in there. Had it went the way you thought it would, you still would have made an ugly choice, but there is no
oui
or
non
to if you should have agreed. There was simply the question of how badly you wanted your dream, and if you had any alternatives to getting it. You would never, NEVER have owned a studio without that ugly decision.

 Would most people do that? Who really knows? People who say they wouldn’t, well, they don’t have the same dream. It really is true every man has a price. Those that say they wouldn’t do it just have not been faced with the inability to achieve what they most value in life yet. Some won’t ever have to worry about it, but they will face different trials. It appears that life is not supposed to be easy.

Was it worth it? Again, is there a
oui
or
non
? Had you known what was going to happen, you would not have done it. You did not want to be used like that for anything! But think of this: You have no permanent injury. You have a large sum of money that will feed and clothe you the rest of your life. And you have your own studio. Not just a small studio, either. You have a studio that any artist would love to own. You have a home. Your very own home! No one can take it from you. It is where you call the shots, where you are the boss. No one can tell you what to do there, beat you or abuse you there. You are safe there. You can be you there. You can create there.

So, one last time: was it worth it? You’re damn right it was! Now own it! You have nothing to forgive in yourself, you just need to accept your decision and own it.

Oui
, you may always be afraid of people finding out. What man does not have secrets? Maybe yours is harsher than most, but what you have for it evens that out. You are free now to just create. Paint some portraits for extra money and use it to have fun! But most of the time, paint what you damn well please, because you have earned it. No one has to approve of what you create except you. You have finally achieved that right.

If people wonder, and they will, how you got a studio like that, let them wonder. Do you ask other men how much they paid for their home? Of course not! If they ask, tell them you painted for someone wealthy, with the studio being part of the agreement. That is all they need to know. If they say something about it being unbelievable, just agree. Just tell them that timing was right, both parities got what they wanted, and who can figure out the gentry? That is not a lie, you know that! How could a man fall in love with you and then offer out your services, only to try to call it off? Who knows? You can only figure out what makes you tick, not others. Let it go.

Gastien got up then, walking into the water. He swam for a long time. When he came back, he found a peace with himself that he had not known before in his life. It had been two weeks since he arrived at this cottage.

Gastien walked up to the cottage, got his paints, and sat down under the umbrella to paint. As he dipped the brush in the water, he smiled. Father Fournier was right. He had not lost his soul. He felt it now as he started to apply paint to the paper. It had been with him all along! He had just shut himself off from it.

As he painted, he could feel himself becoming whole again. Would he ever be the same? Of course not! No one ever stays the same. He was a good person in so many ways. He was strong, driven, focused, passionate…all of those things were with him still. They were just waiting for him to catch back up.

As he ate his food outside that night, he continued to paint. He found himself laughing and crying at the same time. Rather than thinking he was losing his mind, Gastien realized that at last he had found it again. He was different now. He knew exactly where he had been and where he was going. Best of all, there was no feeling of fear about it.

He had paid for his chance. He was going to paint with every ounce of passion and energy that he had in him. Because this was who he was, who he was always meant to be.

Gastien woke up the next morning fully present. It was the first time he had ever truly felt that way and it felt great! His excitement about his studio and his painting future was strong. Gastien decided to stay at the sea, though, for the remaining two weeks. He wanted to continue living without distractions just a little longer.

Gastien found simple happiness in the water, lying in the sand, practicing his fencing, and riding the bicycle to town. He even ate lunch at a small outdoor café on the days he went to L’Estaque, bringing along a novel to bury his face in so that he would not be disturbed. It was nice to get a meal with some chicken or fish every third day or so.

And, of course, he painted. But, mostly he just allowed himself to exist, getting comfortable with fitting inside his body again. He knew he had removed himself mentally for several months, watching at a distance, because being fully present would have been too painful. Now he was back. He could fully enjoy the feel of the water on his bare skin, the warmth of the summer sun; taste the sweetness of the fresh pears and other fruits he bought for himself. All of his senses were fully awake. For the first time, he experienced life without fear of some painful thing happening to him at any moment.

By the middle of the fourth week, he was starting to want women again. He laughed the first time the urge hit him full force in the groin.
Oui
, it was definitely time to be heading back to civilization. He wanted a woman badly! Relieving himself in the sea was just not going to take care of it any more.

At the end of four weeks, he packed up. Gastien rode the bicycle into town to find a driver to take him to the train the next day. In the morning, he took a last quick dip in the sea. After dressing, he looked around the cabin happily. The place had been good to him, he had found healing here. Gastien locked up and rode back to the village. He dropped the key off at the general store as instructed, boarded the train, and sat down. He was so excited to see his studio he could hardly stand it!

He would have his canvases and oils back again! It would be fun to paint those watercolors in oils. He planned on having one of the blue water hang from his ceiling…and it would be huge! He chuckled when he thought of his representation of the Mediterranean. It would be different, that was for sure! It did not matter at all to him if other people ended up liking it or not. He would.

Gastien suddenly realized that he was finally truly going home. For the first time, he was going to his home and his dream. The road had been difficult, but he had made it. Now all that was left to do was paint what his soul had always cried out to paint. He unconsciously flexed his fingers. That left hand missed its favorite brushes.

Just then, a man about Gastien’s age sat down. “
Bonjour
. I am Pierre. I am on my way to Paris. Do you mind if I seek your company for some conversation during the trip?”

Gastien looked at him, smiling happily. “Not at all. I am Gastien. I am on my way home, to Montmartre.

#######

To find out what happens once Gastien gets to Montmartre, including his feelings for Sophie, look for: “Gastien Part 2: From Dream to Destiny” available now!

Here is an excerpt from Gastien Part 2: From Dream to Destiny:

He was now 23, with hair down to his mid back and chest. Gastien usually wore it pulled back with a leather string, unless he was going out. He needed it out of the way when painting. It was much easier to deal with at this length because of being able to pull it back and out of his eyes. No one else wore their hair like this, but he did have beautiful very dark brown, almost black hair that curled a little on the ends. Women loved running their hands through it, and invariably pulled the leather string off when having sex with him, so that they could luxuriate in it. Thankfully, it was thick and did not snarl easily.

Montmartre was a conglomeration of odd people from all over the world, and they brought their fashions with them. Because most were poor, there were many second hand shops filled with clothing from all different countries. Gastien could have cared less about how men were supposed to dress in 1879. He bought what caught his eye. Sometimes he had on flowing silk oriental trousers and shirts with flowing sleeves. Other times, he would wear a striped top and men’s capris, going barefoot or in sandals. This was definitely not what men in Paris were wearing in the nineteenth century! Gastien did not know where the capris or sandals came from, but they were cool in the hotter weather and looked good on his tall, slender body.

He also owned some interesting hats, although mostly he went bareheaded, just because men were not supposed to. When he wore a beret, it was set way back and at an angle, perched so far off his head, it appeared to be ready to fall at any moment. He attached it with women’s hatpins. He always wore the ruby ring and had others that he wore at times, too. One day on a lark, he had his right ear pierced and bought a decent sized gold hoop for it.

Sometimes he carried a tote on his shoulder that held his hash if he was going out. He did not want a purse, but some of his clothes did not have a good area in which to keep hash and money. He liked to screw with people’s minds, too. Why should men only look a certain way? He played with his image all of the time, coming up with some truly outlandish outfits. However, the outfits always looked good by the time they were put together on him. He did not wear women’s clothing; he just wore clothes from other countries and put them together in unusual ways. Gastien had no desire to be a transvestite, but he did like to push the fashion envelope. Many times, though, he wore a simple pair of trousers and a peasant shirt with a v neck, along with boots or sandals, as the weather dictated.

However, he found that women loved it when he dressed bizarre. They seemed to be even more attracted to him then. Perhaps they thought he might be gay and wanted to see if they were woman enough to change him. That was fine with him. It gave him even more sex partners to choose from. If they thought they were special and had some power over him, great, as long as they gave him entrance. He dressed simply about half of the time, and the other half he experimented. It was also a way of thumbing his nose at his father, who would have shat his trousers had he seen his son in capris carrying a small tote over his shoulder, sporting a gold hoop earring, and hair halfway to his ass.

A few men had made the mistake of calling him feminine, catcalling to him when he walked by. Once they picked themselves up off the street and went to their dentist to get a few loose teeth pulled, it was quickly decided Gastien was not feminine after all. The locals knew he wasn’t, it was visiting
bourgeois
and gentry who at first made that mistake. Word got around quickly that not only was the long haired man that dressed flamboyantly not feminine, he had a powerful punch to prove it. Soon men kept their mouths shut. It irked them, though, that women paid more attention to Gastien than to them. They could never quite figure out that they looked boring and unimaginative in their dress, while Gastien’s style promised experimentation in other areas.

Other artist’s dressed oddly, too. Although part of it was self expression, an awful lot of it had to do with poverty. They grabbed whatever they could cheaply. Even in poverty, artists do have a sense of style, so Gastien did not stick out as badly in Montmartre, or certain parts of Paris, as he would have elsewhere.

His favorite place to hang out was
Au Lapin Agile.
It seemed that any night he could find groups of artists there: laughing, talking, drinking, getting high, and sometimes fighting. Most often when he went out he either started out or ended up there. When it was nice weather there was an outside area for the café, but the singing and hard drinking happened inside. In a back room, drug use, sex with a willing woman, many things happened. Gastien went in that room many times to get high, but did not partake in the sex. He had no desire to put his
bite
inside someone who had likely just been with another man.