The smell of woodsmoke, of barbecue—oh, it smelled so good—
(So, you’ve missed me after all?)
We tilted our chin up, felt his breath on our neck; felt his nose, his lips on our skin—so gentle, the softest touch we’d ever known, the path to wholeness and healing—
so gentle,
so gentle—
(You want this, don’t you?)
The smell of cigarettes—
his cigarettes—
oh, such pretty smoke—
(She can’t give you what I can, Surrey.)
—oh, he would never hurt us, and we wanted him so badly, wanted him to drain the pain away, to take the weight away; wanted him to fill us and make us whole—
(Oh, Surrey, I’ve missed you, too. I knew you’d come back for this.)
—oh, we wanted to be filled and whole and beautiful; to feel weightless and delicate and submissive—
(You want me inside you again, don’t you?)
David? Beau?
(Turn around.)
A wash of concern—absinthe and apple cider; bitter, sweet and sour; somehow creamy but watered down—
(Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around.)
—oh, we wanted it so badly, wanted it so badly, wanted it so badly—
(Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around.)
—oh, we wanted it so badly, wanted it so badly, wanted it so badly—
(Turn Around. Turn Around. Turn Around. Turn Around. Turn Around.)
—oh, we wanted it so badly, wanted it so badly, wanted it so badly—
(TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND.)
—oh, we wanted it so badly, wanted it so badly, wanted it so badly—always wanted it so badly—such dirty little whores we were—always wanted it—always wanted it—always wanted it—such a filthy, dirty boy we were—
(TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND.)
—filthy, dirty boy—always needing things—always making messes—always having to want things we didn’t want—take things we didn’t want—want things we didn’t want but had to want, had to take—had to bend over—had to turn around—had to thank him—had to say we were sorry—all the time—all the time—turn around—bend over—open wide—sorry and thank-you and please—please, don’t hurt us—we’ll be better—we’ll be your dirty boy—please don’t hurt us—
(TURN AROUND. BEND OVER. OPEN WIDE. TURN AROUND. BEND OVER. OPEN WIDE. SORRY. PLEASE. THANK-YOU. TURN AROUND. BEND OVER. OPEN WIDE. SORRY, PLEASE AND THANK-YOU. TURN AROUND. BEND OVER. OPEN WIDE. LEGS UP. LAY DOWN. ROLL OVER. SORRY, PLEASE AND THANK-YOU. SAY YOU’RE SORRY. SAY ‘PLEASE.’ SAY ‘THANK-YOU.’ HOW DO GOOD BOYS SAY ‘THANK-YOU’? YEAH, LIKE THAT. YEAH, LIKE THAT, DAVID. YOU’RE SUCH A GOOD BOY, SO SMART, SO SPECIAL. YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL—TOO BEAUTIFUL. OH, GOD, YES, YOU BEAUTIFUL BOY. THAT’S THE SPIRIT. KEEP GOING. YOU’RE SO GOOD AT THIS. YOU’RE SUCH A CHAMP. SORRY, PLEASE AND THANK-YOU. SORRY, PLEASE AND THANK-YOU. SORRY, PLEASE AND THANK-YOU. SORRY, PLEASE AND THANK-YOU. LAY DOWN. LEGS UP. ROLL OVER. TURN AROUND. BEND OVER. OPEN WIDE. TURN AROUND. BEND OVER. OPEN WIDE.)
Fingers—rough ends, smooth nails—soft—hard—on chest, on the bone—through the skin—through the bone—slipping inside—inside—
inside—
inside of us—
Beau? David? Come on back, you two, said that voice—the other voice, the soothing voice like slipping in rose oil and melted chocolate.
It’s okay now; nobody’s hurting you; you’re safe now.
A hand—long, rough, warm—sliding over our cheek—fingers over our ear, in our hair, palm on our cheek, breath on our face—warmth,
so much warmth, coursing through us—draining the pain—making all of our hard go away, all of our pain, all of our hurt—making us soft and warm—
We breathed in. We hadn’t known we’d stopped breathing.
There you go. Just breathe; just breathe for a bit, he said, his voice so soft and warm like a blanket, like someone had wrapped us in a blanket, like we’d been drowning, and someone had pulled us out and wrapped us in a blanket.
I’ve got you. It’s safe now; you can come out now.
(Open your eyes, Surrey; you’re so beautiful—too beautiful—but you shouldn’t fear that. Not with me. I’ll protect you, Surrey; there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.)
We opened our eyes… and, inches from our face, we saw their vivid Laguna blue reflected in the gleaming, gray mirrors of his narrow, long-lashed eyes. And we wept.
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