Page 18 of The Tourist

That night,Marianne had just stared at me until I dropped my gaze. Justshrugged when she and Jerry decided to leave early.

Calder becamemy life. He got me into his private gym, bought me stuff like thephone. We didn’t go out much, except to the bar, but I didn’treally mind at first. Because the sex was fabulous. He was great,and said I was great, too. He wanted to show me things, experimentwith me, play withme. I knew he’d done a lot more than I ever had—he’d been out andproud in the city for years. He belonged to plenty of private kinkclubs too. I’d hoped he might take me to them, but he said hedidn’t want to share our time with others. It had soundedflattering. Instead, he brought the scene home to me.

Night after night.

I liked a lotof it, you know? Loved sex, and being submissive. The games excitedme. But then they started going in a different direction. Calder’sdesires…

A memory hitme; sudden, vivid pain.My shoulders tightened.

Calder said itwas all still a game, said all the smart guys played like this.Said I was weak and cowardly to complain. Said it was all I couldexpect, looking the way I did, blatantly inviting it likethat…

I tried not todwell on those memories. I’d stopped thinking aboutthem.

So, startthinking again, now!

My handslanded on the kitchen counter with a force I hadn’t anticipated.The impact rolled back through my muscles, shocking me. It was asif someone else had moved my limbs—had told me to pay attention tothe truth.

At last!

My touristmind wavered. Maybe I was shaken by my host’s memories, emergingfrom a fetid, mental pool like some kind of slimy monster. Maybe Ishould’ve moved on before now. But things were coming clear to myhost in a way they hadn’t been before. And I didn’t just seek outsex. I didn’t just enjoy my host men. I could help, too… couldn’tI?

Rickyknew—I knew—what Ihad with Calder hadn’t been right. That what he did wasn’t—what didthey say nowadays?—safe, sane and consensual. I leant on thekitchen counter and let nausea sweep over me. Yet how long had ittaken me to rebel? When I thought back, I knew Calder had nevermentioned love, never said future, never asked whatI wanted. Never told me Iwas special.

Far fromit.

The change inhis attitude to me had come slowly, so insidiously that maybe Inever really noticed at the time. But after the first couple ofmonths of what you might call courting, Calder made sure to let meknow what he thought. About me. Whatever fun we had, I wasn’treally as good as him. I had a bum job, a substandard education; Iwasn’t really his social equal. All I had going for me was mybody.

And the fact Ilet him do what he liked.

“You’re waytoo eager to please,” he’d said. “Shame to disappointyou.”

It hadn’t beenlike that to start with. Was that any excuse? Today, in my silentkitchen, I felt my hands clench into fists, my teeth grituncomfortably. Yes, maybe the games had been fine, but I was onlyever a player for fun. It was just that Calder…

Took it further.

Marianne hadtaken me to the hospital that time with two fractured ribs. I toldher I fell down the cellar steps at the bar, but I didn’t want toreport it, to get Matty in trouble. There was a whole week when Icouldn’t make it into work at all—could barely walk without pain.Calder wouldn’t come and see me, but he made it pretty clear Iwasn’t to call on anyone else.

It was aboutthen that I knew I had to get out.

So why did Ihesitate for so long? The remembrance of my fear was so painful,tears prickled the edges of my eyes. So afraid of saying no. Ofcausing trouble. Of being found unattractive.

So bloodyuseless.

But I had toldhim. His kind of fun wasn’t mine anymore. I was moving on, albeitin my shabby job, in my cheap flat, in my weakness andcowardice.

You did itonce, you can do it again.

I prodded thatthought, wherever it had come from, to a full-blown determination.Dan was right. I had to tell Calder to go to hell, and for good.Today I felt like I could, today was different. Funny, eh? Life wasdifferent now, full of Dan and a strange new boldness. My mind wasstill scared, but my hand reached out and snatched up thephone.

“Ricky? Whatthe fuck are you playing at? I’ve been calling all night. Don’t tryand tell me you worked late. I know what time you left thebar.”

“So what?” Myheart started speeding up.

“What?”

“It’s none ofyour business, Calder, is it? What time I finish work, what I dowith my time.”

There was abrief silence on the line. “Ricky, what’s the matter withyou?”