It is an interesting concept to realize that the person who led you to accept who you are is now in denial of who he is. I sit across the table from my cousin and am both disgusted and aroused. I'm not disgusted because he is my cousin; in all honesty we barely share any blood. We were raised on opposite sides of the country and I never even met him until I was nine, he was already twenty-three by then.
No, I am disgusted by the plaid shirt and the cowboy boots, the baseball cap that hides his red blond hair and the cheesy smile that denies he was ever anything but what he is now. But I am aroused by the fear I can see in his eyes when he sees me. Fear of what I could say, or do, that would let his secret out. And also a bit of fear for the feelings I stir, the desire to be what he once was, and truly still is.
Honestly I think it's less the fear than what it means. He knows I know and is terrified to be outed, not only to everyone else but to himself. He has built a high wall around the beast inside him, and only I know its true nature, its name. And thus only I can unleash it.
When I look into his eyes I can see that beast looking back and it wants out, but it is being strangled by the bolo tie and the crucifix that hang around his neck. I sit basking in the sun while he preaches about life and its gifts while the beast stares at me from behind his pretty blond eyelashes. He sits across from me contentedly chatting with his mother, his face still looking boyish at thirty three. Every now and then I see that fear and my stomach tingles and fire races down inside me. I know today will be the day I finally snap and help him unleash the beast hidden behind religion and tacky fashion sense.
When I met him he told me who he was, he was all beast then, and very proud of it. But I was just a little girl and didn't understand the nature of his beast. I didn't know terms like fetish and sadism. He said he was a vampire and so to me he was. His beast stared back at me through tinted glasses and my own juvenile beast mewed in response. I saw what he was and knew it was what I should be, or what I was looking for.
I remember how it felt when his mother was scared to leave us alone together, and I remembered the eye roll he gave me when he turned to his mother and dead panned. "Mother I've been alone with her all night, if I was going to kill her I would have done it already."
Only now can I see the fear in his mother's eyes for the confusion it really was. No grown woman could ever understand what connection we had. The years passed quickly but I never forgot, and when we finally met again I had a better concept of what he was. He gave me a book he had suggested when I was younger and it helped me see him for what he was, a predator. Not the kind you think of, not the one who searches out innocence and destroys it. I simply mean he was a beast, an animal who could only get aroused when wielding a sharp blade. And I knew then that he was what I needed. As much as he needed to inflict pain, I needed to feel it. At thirteen I finally understood him. And once again he disappeared for years.
The next time I saw him my stomach did a flip. It was still him, same sly smile, same boyish face. But that face was now a mask, a cover for who he was inside. I tried to speak to him and I could tell he wanted to talk to me, wanted to share with me. But he was too afraid. He hid his beast and lived in terror it would regain control. He had a sickening idea that he needed to fit in with society, needed to play the game and coast on good looks and charm, not be his real self. And now, only the fifth time I am seeing him in my life, I know that it is my duty to unleash his beast.
The gathering slowly breaks apart, one by one they leave and he stands up to depart. There are still people around so I know I must be discreet. I take his hand and he looks at me like the devil himself just grabbed him. I dig my nails in hard, my face smiling, and he goes blank.
"Hey, Lee. I thought we could hang out, catch up. We never see each other."
He is terrified but I dig my nails in harder and he nods. His mother shoos him along, happy to see him talking to a female at all. None of them understand, they just see a quiet, shy boy who never dates. They don't see the monster that's hidden behind those gorgeous eyes. He follows me, his stance stiff as my nails loosen from his skin, oddly the crescent shaped wounds depressing me more than they should. He should be angry, he shouldn't let me lead him. He has the power, not I.
But still he follows as I lead him to the back of the store and silently slip into an empty restroom. Once we are alone he yanks his hand out of mine and backs up. He's hiding his fear behind a thin mask of anger, but I like this better.
"What is wrong with you Dawn? What is the purpose of dragging me into a bathroom, this is all very odd. Now explain so I can get the fuck out of here."
I smile and back him against a wall, his eyes wide and scared. I drop to my knees and begin unbuttoning those crotch hugger country western jeans of his. He tries to bat my hands away but he doesn't have the concentration. I can tell by the pulsing beneath my fingers that it has been a long time since he has allowed a woman to touch him. I crave in my chest the taste of him, the groans. And the moment when his beast wakes up.
