The Cursed Doll

Chapter 2

We met at least once a week in the months following, though one week in four he couldn’t make it. The books he’d ordered were delivered and I enjoyed having the excuse to call him and tell him the books had arrived. They certainly were in some pretty arcane languages … In the meantime I enjoyed my masturbating — I always wear a condom for this, it saves leaving any traces on the sheet or the duvet — while dreaming of letting Trefor make love to me.

Not once did he suggest or attempt to initiate any intimate contact between us and though I wanted it, I figured he had his reasons, and made no effort to force the pace. My course reached it’s end and I got my diploma and a promotion to edit the company ‘in house’ newsletter — free to customers as it had reviews of new books and other promotional information — and finally got a couple of my short stories into print. The extra income meant I could finally afford to find my own small flat. This came as a relief to my parent as well as it meant she was finally able to live her own life and entertain her own friends without having to ask me to give her some room. It suited both of us when I moved out, and I hoped it would enable me to take my friendship with Trefor further now I had my own private space …

“Care to have a meal at my new flat on Saturday evening?” I asked as casually as I could over our regular coffee and pastry. “It’s not far from here, and pretty basically furnished, but I can cook …”

“Saturday?” He hesitated, his expression a mix of wistfulness and panic at the same time. “I’d love to, but … can I confirm it in a day or so? I might have a problem. I have to see if I can arrange something first.”

“No problem.” I smiled, my heart thumping, but at the same time wondering why he looked panicked by the invitation. Trying to lighten the mood, I quipped, “I’m not a werewolf or anything so you’re safe enough with me.”

“Safe enough ..,” he laughed. “It’s not me that could be in danger. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow to confirm.” Deftly he deflected the subject and we talked books, editing and writing for the rest of our time together.

Walking home I pondered his retort to my joke, grinning as I passed the display window of Latex World, my fantasy world. Since getting my own place I’d indulged myself with a few latex items for use with my daily wanking. I still didn’t have the courage to go public with it though, my part-time experience ‘serving’ in the anonymous environment of Rubber House club notwithstanding … And I couldn’t afford the suits and hoods that I really wanted to own. Still, no harm in giving myself an eyeful in passing, and promising myself that ‘one day’ ….

I let myself into the flat, still grinning at the thought of greeting Trefor in a tight rubber suit and seeing his reaction, put the kettle on and prepared a snack for supper all more or less on autopilot. Settling in front of my second hand television I watched the news while I ate my supper, then flicked through the channels and decided there was nothing worth watching and turned it off.

Washed up and cleaned the kitchen then stripped, showered, and returned to the living room wearing just the towel and settled down to read with a nice cold beer. I’d barely settled when my phone rang.

“Aled?” Trefor sounded uncertain.

“In the flesh — on this end at least.” I chuckled at my own joke, my member stiffening. “What’s up, Trefor?”

“Up? Oh.” He laughed. “Nothing’s ‘up’, I just rang to say I should be fine to come to your place on Saturday, but I will have to leave at nine at the very latest if that’s alright. What time should I come over?”

“Nine? You on a curfew or something?” I regretted that immediately. “No, none of my business, Trefor. That’s fine. If you’d like to come over earlier, I’ll be home by five at the latest.”

“Not a curfew as such. It’s a bit complicated …” He sounded defensive. “I can be there at five. Can I bring anything?”

“Yourself, goof.” I was tempted to say something provocative, but refrained.“If you like. Maybe a bottle of wine? I’m going to do steak and a salad, does that suit?”

“That’ll be great.” I could almost feel his relief. “I’ll bring a bottle of really good stuff from the cellar to go with the steak. See you on Saturday.”  

I was home early on Saturday, having persuaded another member of staff to take my afternoon shift. Everything was prepared — apart from the steak sitting in it’s marinade — when the doorbell announced Trefor’s arrival at exactly five o’clock. It struck me as I put my hand to the door that he’d never asked, and I’d never told him, the address, but there he was, and I ushered him inside and forgot all about it.

“Welcome, Trefor.” Accepting the proffered bottle, I stood aside to let him pass and closed the door. “It’s not much, but it’s mine and it’s ‘home’. Can I get you a drink? We can open the wine later I think.”

“Yeah, the wine later. If you’ve got something soft? That’ll be great.”

“I’ve some grape juice. With fizzy water that’s pretty refreshing.” Busying myself in the kitchen, I poured two glasses. It gave me a chance to get myself under control after we’d made brief physical contact in the tiny entrance hall. “Grab a seat wherever you like.”

“Thanks,” he replied, but remained standing looking out of the door to my small balcony and the park across the road. Taking the offered drink, he turned and smiled. “This is pretty nice. I thought there’d be more street noise, but I can actually hear the birds.”

“True, but it is busier in the week.” Gesturing, I indicated the flat. “It’s not very big, but it’s an old building and pretty solid. The bedroom is just big enough for a bed and a wardrobe — no built ins — and the bathroom’s through there if you need it. I’m afraid we’ll be eating off trays, no room for a table unless you fancy eating at my ‘desk’.”

“I’ll manage with a tray,” he replied, laughing. “Can I help prepare anything?”

“Just have to grill the steaks, thanks.” I laughed, “And the kitchen’s too small for a two person act anyway.” Taking a sip of my drink, I asked, “How’d you get here? Bus or underground?”

“Neither! I came by … car, and I’ll be collected again at nine sharp.” He smiled. “Sorry, but I dare not be late …”

“No problem, Trefor.” I grinned. “Your uncle must be a real dragon. He certainly keeps you on a tight chain.”

“Tight chain? Oh.” He laughed and looked a little flustered. “Ah. No, not really … as I said a while back, it’s a bit complicated. Hopefully one day …” He shrugged. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else. What are you working on? You said you’d got some short stories published.”

Not wanting to push him, I talked about my writing, my stories, the idea I had for a book, and he responded with answers to my questions about the books he was buying. The steak got grilled, and eaten, the wine was absolutely superb — and definitely NOT your ordinary supermarket stuff. All too soon his watch bleeped and he started.

“Damn, sorry, Aled, but I have to run for it. I’m really sorry to run out like this …” He was already at the front door.

“It’s okay, Trefor. I’ll come down with you …” Grabbing my keys, I shut the door behind me and ran after him, reaching the street just as he climbed into the old fashioned limousine at the kerb. “Very smart, chum,” I called gently as he turned to close the door. “See you at the cafe when you want to.”

“Thanks, Aled, you’ve no idea how hard …” 

The car began to move, so I stepped back and waved. I was very thoughtful as I let myself back into the flat, finished my wine and his and tidied up, piling the dishes in the sink to deal with in the morning. There was a little wine left in the bottle, so I poured it into my glass, then took it onto the balcony and sat enjoying the cool and the sight of the full moon as it rose majestically behind the buildings on the far side of the square.

My post on Monday included a ‘Thank You’ card and note from Trefor with profuse apologies for his ‘rudeness’ in rushing away without having taken proper leave. It was touching, and I wanted to call him, or better, see him, and tell him it didn’t matter; that I had really enjoyed my evening with him and wanted to do it again. The problem was that though I searched my phone memory, there was no trace of a number that might be his! Curiously the envelop with the card and note bore no stamp or postmark, but I just assumed he’d delivered it himself. There was a faint scent to both that I couldn’t quite place, though it seemed familiar. I put it on my bookshelf and hoped he’d call again soon. It was Friday before he did, and we met after work at Marco’s as usual.

“I really must apologise for Saturday …” he began. “It was incredibly rude of me, but I really couldn’t stay even a minute longer …”

“Hey, no need to apologise at all, Trefor,” I replied, smiling. Reaching across I touched his hand. “I enjoyed the evening so much, and I’d like to do it again — even if it means you rushing out on me again as the moon rises.” Teasing, I joked. “Even if it turns out you’re a werewolf or something!”

For a moment, he stared. Then he smiled. “Thanks. Yes, I’d like that too — and I’m definitely not a werewolf.”

“Good, then that’s cleared up.” I laughed as the waitress approached. We gave our order and as she left I said, “Trefor, I don’t know how to say this … and I don’t want to push anything, but … well, when you’re around, the world seems a nicer place … you know … I feel … the sun seems brighter … Oh bugger it, I’m making and arse of myself and embarrassing you.”

“No. No, you’re not making an … or embarrassing me …” He wiped his eye. “Thanks for saying this … it means more than you know …”

Our order arrived and when the waitress had gone, I reached across and took his hand. 

“Trefor, you know I’m Gay — everybody knows it. I don’t have a lover, and I don’t sleep with every guy who’ll let me, at least not anymore.” I added, mindful of how I’d earned enough to get my flat sorted out and pay for my course. “Any time you … What I’m saying is, when you want to talk — or anything else — I’m here. I’m me. And you make my life a whole lot brighter.”

“Thanks.” Wiping his eyes again, he stayed silent for several seconds. “Your friendship means the world …”

“Then I’m fine with that.” Squeezing his hand I added, “And when you want to talk, or to take it further — I’ll be there.”

For a while longer we sat in silence listening to our own thoughts, then I remembered a funny incident with a customer and shared the story. That lightened the mood and we parted later on a much happier note and mood.