The Cursed Doll

Chapter 1

Trefor was the same age as myself and we’d long known each other, but only really saw one another during school holidays. I attended the local state school, he boarded at a private school somewhere, I never quite learned where. It was a very exclusive school, he said, and though he told me the name of it, I’d never heard of it. So, when I finally finished school and started work our paths crossed even less. That rather saddened me because, truth to tell, he was just about my only real friend, one I could talk to without having to worry that he’d stab me in the back for a laugh. 

I knew I was Gay from quite an early age, and I sensed that Trefor might be, but the only time I hinted at a sexual contact, he reacted badly.

“No! No, I can’t, I mustn’t …” His face showed real fear, and he ran out of the shade of the dolmen and out of my sight. Before I could get to my feet and chase him, he’d vanished. It had been several days before he again appeared, looking very tired, but pleased to see me. Neither of us mentioned it again. The truth is that I felt a very strong attraction to Trefor, and I’d no wish to lose our friendship just because I would have welcomed sexual contact with him.

It’s tough being Gay and growing up in a single parent family. Add in a taste for letting your partner control any sexual activity and a vivid imagination, and you soon learn to be ultra careful about revealing too much about yourself. It doesn’t help to have a slim, slightly athletic, physique and a taste for nice clothes. So, from early on I earned my pocket money cutting grass, running errands, delivering newspapers … anything that put a little more cash in my pocket. That included being a model for a photographer and for several artists who all paid by the session.

Especially when your parent is struggling to pay the bills and trying to provide as much as they can for you. Even worse when you’re also ‘brighter’ than most of your contemporaries and regularly bullied for being a ‘swot’ and simply for being ‘different’. There was no money for me to continue my education at university, even though I wanted to become a journalist and possibly an author, I needed to study and acquire a qualification. I found a way to take a part-time course in journalism at the local Tech, and to pay for it, I got a part time job in a local Gay Club called The Rubber House working as a waiter. To get this job I’d had to lie about my age, as I was several months short of my eighteenth, but I got away with it thanks to looking older and to a guy who already worked there, named Bryn.

The waiting staff wore a body harness with a prominent rubber genital pouch and an open rear, with cuffs on your wrists and a bondage style collar and a hood that left the lower part of the face open. Leaving school also meant I could no longer visit the dolmens hideout as frequently as before, and contact with Trefor was broken. That hit me hard, and I tried everything I could think of to regain contact. Notes left at the dolmen went uncollected and unanswered.

The Club didn’t pay enough — even with the ‘perks — to cover my fees and a place to live, so I took a job with a local bookstore. At weekends I worked at the Club. It boosted my income and also fed my taste for bondage and bondage sex.

A feature of the club was a life-sized, solid rubber statue of a well built man in a niche inside the entrance. Someone had ‘dressed’ him in the harness and modesty pouch the waiters wore, and we all jokingly referred to him as ‘The Head Waiter’ though the patrons called him the Rubber Man. The pay wasn’t great, but it was sufficient to ‘top up’ my wages from the book shop, though many of the other waiters provided other ‘services’ to patrons willing to pay. Between them they had worked out a scale of ‘fees’ and a system to signal who was willing to do what. 

The lack of ‘cover’ at the rear of our costumes, facilitated some quick ‘action’ and, of course, there was always the opportunity to give ‘head’. For some of the staff it was the only way to earn enough to live, for us ‘part-timers’, it was a small bonus we could choose to decline. I found it a useful way to build up a small savings account which eventually gave me a deposit for a small flat and to furnish it. On a busy night I sometimes trebled my official pay and it almost doubled my salary at the book store.

Then, as my job at the book shop became full time, and my course more demanding, I had to give it up. I missed the frisson it gave me to walk about in public in the harness and with my head hooded, and the somewhat risky sex in the booths, but …

“So this is where you’re hiding.” I turned to face the speaker, the stack of books in my arms almost spilling as my heart raced. Could it be?.

The voice was teasing and I smiled in surprise as I recognised the speaker. Looking incredibly sexy and handsome in beautifully tailored slacks and shirt beneath an expensive looking jacket was my youthful friend and heart throb. 

“A man has to earn a wage, Trefor.” I retorted. “Not all of us have other options.” Putting the books I was carrying down, I asked, “What are you doing?”

“Touche´,” he replied. “At the moment I’m looking for a long list of books with obscure titles and authors. I’m hoping you, or someone here, can source them for me.” Waving a list he smiled, “Good to see you again. I missed you at the last holidays — you must have finished your exams and gone straight into work.”

“I did.” Holding out my hand, I added, “I was lucky enough to find this opening and start straight off. Give me your list and let’s see if we can track what you’re after in the online catalogues.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, handing it over. “When do you finish here? Perhaps we could grab a pint or something and catch up?”

“That’d be nice. I can leave at five-thirty, but I can’t stop long — I’ve a class tonight at the Tech. It starts at seven.” Damn, standing this close to him was doing things to me. He was even more attractive now he’d matured, but I’d never quite worked out which way he leant, and after that first rejection, hadn’t tried to find out. “We could grab a coffee and something at Marco’s. Coffee isn’t bad and I can go from there straight to my class.”

“Sounds good to me. Okay, now, about those books?” His closeness was raising thoughts and fantasies in my head that I’d not had since … well, for a long time about him. I was glad to get the counter between us and hoped like hell he hadn’t noticed the change in the crotch of my jeans.

He was waiting at the cafe when I arrived, the stack of books I’d managed to source for him on the table.

“I’ve placed the orders for the remaining books for you,” I told him as I took a seat opposite him. “You’ll have most of them in about two weeks, but one, this one with the title I daren’t even try to pronounce — that’ll take six to eight weeks. And it’s expensive!”

“Thanks, I really appreciate the help.” Patting the stack, he grinned. “Thankfully my uncle is paying for them — my allowance wouldn’t even begin to cover it.” Seeing my expression, he laughed. “I’m not as flush in the pocket as you think.”

“Is that a hint I’m buying?” I grinned at his surprise. “It’ll be a pleasure.”

“No! Good grief.” He grinned. “No. My invite, my treat.” He hesitated. “I know just how much shit you got from some people at school … No, this is on me — you saved me one hell of a job tracing all those books for me.”

“It was easy,” I fired back, surprised that he knew about the school — he’d not been there, and I’d never told anyone. Only he and I knew of our secret meeting place, my refuge when things got on top of me, and, I’d learned, his as well. “We have special software that can trace any book whether it’s in print or not.” I grinned. “But I won’t say no to being treated for it.”

“Good!” He laughed as the attractive waitress approached. “Order something to eat as well then. I’m hungry,” he winked. “And not just for food …”

Blushing, and glad we weren’t in a brightly lit booth, I ordered my favourite pastry and an iced coffee, then sat back and watched him as he ordered, wondering if he was implying something by his statement. I made no secret of my sexuality — I’d been ‘outed’ almost as soon as the guys I was at school with began to notice girls and masturbate.

“Damn, I’ve really missed our regular talks in the dolmen.” Almost as if he was reading my thoughts, he grinned. “Yes. I am … but it’s a bit complicated. Very complicated.” Putting his elbows on the table, he leaned his chin on his hands, and asked, “What are you studying? You said you have a class later?”

“Journalism.” I shrugged. “I want to be an author, but without the university degree and the ‘network’ into the publishing industry … it’s not easy. The course is good, and it’ll help.” Grinning, I added, “In the meantime I get to know a lot of the publisher’s sales peeps, and do book searches for some lovely customers. What about you? What are you studying?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he replied. “It’s pretty arcane stuff actually — ancient languages and some very obscure art and history.” He grinned. “What sort of writing do you want to do?”

We talked over our iced coffee and pastries, exchanging snippets of information — or rather my giving him answers and his giving answers that didn’t actually reveal anything at all — yet, strangely, intrigued me rather than annoyed me. We parted agreeing to repeat the meeting soon, and I went to my class.

It was just as well the class was a revisor as my thoughts kept wandering to Trefor. What had he meant when he’d said ‘it’s a bit complicated’? Okay, I still lived with my parent which meant no privacy for a relationship. Was he implying he had the same problem? Perhaps his uncle disapproved of Gays? Or something else? I went to bed and lay awake for some time gently stroking my erection and idly wondering what it would be like to surrender myself to him to share this intimacy …