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 Posted: Thu Sep 22, 2016 3:12 pm
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The cell phone still lay upon the bed next to him from when he made the call. Sometime earlier the racket ceased, the upstairs finished its booming and breaking and shuffling. Quietude resumed. A stillness passed over the apartment and settled like a fine dust over old belongings, easily broken but often so artfully balanced that others experienced a natural discouragement from disturbing it. Alois himself felt similarly when he sank back upon his bed, his bare back exposed to the still air, and returned to sleep. Life upstairs, life outside, life beyond his apartment would resume inevitably, but his large and empty space needn’t know the touch of time.
A knock sounded, and the dust of silence disturbed into invisibility. The moment shattered, and Alois roused from a low, needful sleep that left him shunted into a separate space of time. A groggy hand lowered from the bed and motioned, sweeping, toward the back end of the warehouse apartment. „Schatzie, ge-…“ He started, then faltered as the words caught hot and unbearable in his throat. He swallowed, and hands slowly retracted to his face to press away the pain. Teeth grit, and his lips exposed a burdened grimace. He didn’t want to confront it again - not now.
Biting back the tears required measured patience, and when he finally sat upright, he swallowed down his grief to holler an acknowledgement. „I’m coming.“ With a sigh, he dismounted from the ruffled swath of sheets and grey blanket. In boxer briefs, he shuffled to the small pile of clothes opposite the bed. A jacket was picked, nondescript in its zippered bagginess, and he hucked it over his frame. After zipping up to the clavicles, Alois thrust hands into pockets and padded across the cold concrete floor to the door where company broached.
He passed the empty expans of the warehouse and its occasional pillar before he reached the door. The locks unlatched, and he opened it to Mercer accompanied by the lurid sun. Alois squinted terribly. „I heard it stop upstairs. Sanks.“
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Posted: Sun Oct 02, 2016 4:58 am
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Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2016 8:14 am
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“Why?“ He challenged in return, as he remained standing in front of the doorway. Challenging the man offered little by way of reaction, however, and Alois soon gave up the idea of playing Staring Contest in the doorway while his balls slowly retreated into his body from the cold. Finally he parted from the frame and retreated into the depths of the empty apartment.
When he returned, he donned his typical fare - black skinny jeans tucked into combat boots, a shirt fashioned of leather strips and thick fishnet mesh, and his ubiquitous Nazgul hoodie with accompanying black and white striped scarf. He looked as trashy as he felt, and the burgeoning headache assured him that hydration and food meant feeling better.
But he did not want to feel better.
„Fine,“ He started as he crossed hardwoods to the threshold, „but I’m only coming wis’ you under one condition. I want you to handcuff me.“ He held both hands out, wrists nearly together. „Just like zis. And you’re going to keep zem on until you take me home. And if you refuse, I haf’ my ways of making you do it. Zat, I can promise.“ He stared back at the man hawkishly, daring him for a denial.
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Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2016 9:24 pm
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“Well,“ Alois started as he braced against the door, „if I had to guess, you’re friends wis’ a lot of people who sink zey’re kinky by lapsing into one of ze most widely known and normalized kinks known to man. I mean, it’s not like zey’re asking you to turn zem into an adult baby or anysing. Plus, I guess zey want ze novelty of it. But my reasons for asking are neizer of zose - I don’t need to get my rocks off where a detectif’ already has me half-arrested for public indecency, and ze novelty of it is only part of ze point.
„Having handcuffs on me gives me somesing to sink about - it is definitively not a sensation I’f endured before, and it is wors’ somesing in terms of grounding.“ Hell knows I need it right now. „Ze ozzer part of it is a declaration. It’s not my choice to go, but your will zat makes me go. Handcuffs are much ze same - my will is handicapped here, as are my hands. And…“ He paused then, and spared a glance back to the naked confines of his apartment. When he looked back to Jeremiah, he remained solemn. „Really, zis entire liife is a type of imprisonment. Is it such an offense to make nonverbal commentary on zat?“
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Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2016 7:52 pm
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Is there art in a motion? In a single planned behavior? Does it have to be drawn, painted, danced or photographed to earn that lofty title? I dare not ask such questions of these people.
He watched Jeremiah and waited. His hand was little more than dead weight in the detective’s grasp. He waited and counted the seconds with each passing breath. „You’ll pass judgment on my decisions regardless of my justifications. In a lot of situations, it’s a waste of time and effort to explain it at all. No one recognizes ze significance of having two ears and one mous’.“ Eyes shut, and he waited for more objections.
A headache, he found, blossomed at the back of his brain. New throbbing life echoed into his teeth.
Impaled upon a stern angelic stare
You were condemned to serve the legal limit
And burn to death within your neon hell.
Now, disciplined in the strict ancestral chair,
You sit, solemn-eyed, about to vomit,
The future an electrode in your skull.
Amen, he added in a last rite.
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Posted: Sat Oct 29, 2016 5:37 pm
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"Yet now you are passing judgement on me, are you not?" Jeremiah replied, handcuffs slipping on with a clink. The older man slid a finger along the underside, making sure they weren't going to be too tight, and let go.
It was, perhaps, telling that he had no desire to actually hurt.
"In this instance, despite that I am exerting my own will, I am still somehow bowing to yours." He stepped beside Alois, reaching for the door and then pausing before he closed it. "Got your keys? Or am I picking the lock to get you back inside later?"
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