The memories kept coming to me in the form of dreams, or I guess nightmares would be more accurate. In the dark the feeling of being helpless and used like a blow up sex doll would wake me from a sound sleep.
My girlfriend blamed my lack of interest in her usually charming ways on the stress of building up my career in music; I knew that my problems ran deeper than she could ever begin to know.
When I read about it his body being discovered the papers I admit I had a laugh, secure in knowing that there would never be a connection made back to me.
I felt no guilt at my actions, I was trained from an early age that sometimes it comes down to kill or be killed. True, I was really in no danger of dying at the hands of the man who raped me, but he did more harm than if he had taken my life.
I was now consumed with questioning who I really was. What about me made him think I wanted his attentions? Was there something I had been denying in myself that others could see? Sometimes in the middle of my morning shave I'd stare into the mirror at my reflection, but it was like trying to read a book in a language where you only knew the alphabet.
One the guys in my band, Paul, was a very "out" man, and I watched him with an almost clinical studying in an attempt to see what defined him as gay that I could find in me. Aside from being in the same band and being musically inclined nothing seemed in common.
One night after a gig and a few beers into the post-stage revel I got the courage to ask him if he found me attractive. What I thought was a subtle way of approaching that subject obviously didn't seem that way to him. After he stopped choking on his drink he looked at me like I had grown antlers.
He cleared his throat and sputtered, "Do you really want me to answer this or are you just pulling my leg? Is this a test?"
"No, it's not really a trick question, do you or don't you?" I asked.
"Before I answer that, can I ask you a question?" Paul then motioned for me to lean in a bit closer. When I followed his direction, he continued, "are you INSANE?"
I sat back and gave a short laugh, "Maybe. I'm not sure to be honest."
"You really mean this, you're serious? OK, let me have a look at you." He grinned and his eyes slid over me like he was appraising a new car. "Aside from being shorter and slighter built than I usually like my men, you are kind of cute, gorgeous eyes. Why do you ask?"
I lost my nerve then and tried to make light of it as if I was pulling his leg but he didn't seem to buy that. After a few very uncomfortable attempts at changing the subject I wandered over to the coolers and I found another beer or three and downed them in quick succession.
I was almost reached the point of drinking the taste of embarrassment out of my mouth when I felt a hand on my shoulder, I turned around and Paul was standing right behind me, "I'm sorry if I made a joke out of that, but you took me off guard totally. I mean we've worked together only a year, and well, you seem ah, well, ah."
"I seem what?" I asked.
"Attached" He shrugged, "What I mean is, you have that chick that sometimes comes with us on tour."
I didn't say anything, hoping that if I didn't keep this conversation going it would mean it never happened.
Paul seemed to take the hint, and started to walk away, and then he made a clicking sound with his tongue and turned back towards me with a scowl on his face, "Were you making a pass at me?" I didn't get a chance to speak before his expression changed to a sly smile, "You were, weren't you? I'll be damned!"
I found my voice, "keep it down!" I hissed, "Look, this is stupid. I was not making a pass at you; let's put it down to a case of me needing to install a filter between my brain and my mouth, OK?"
"You're not fooling me, you meant it." His smile brightened, "Since we're being honest, yeah you are tasty. It's not just the girls that find you attractive, you know. I know a lot of guys, just like me, who wouldn't mind getting you into their beds." He puckered his lips and made a kissing sound, "Now boss, if you want to see how serious I am, invite me up to your room and I'll prove it to you."
When I got back to the hotel, I changed in my sleep gear, a well-worn and holey white tshirt and a pair of decommissioned tracksuit trousers and got into bed. I turned off the light and closed my eyes hoping by going through the motions my body would decide to go to sleep. After a half hour of turning in the sheets like I was on spit, I turned the light back on and sat up.
I briefly thought of calling my girlfriend but the time difference meant that I would be waking her up if I did. Instead I drank my way through the mini-bar, and smoked a pack of cigarettes. My eyes were reaching the comfortably heavy point when a knock on the door made my heart leap almost out of my chest.
I looked through the peephole in the door and saw it was Paul. I briefly considered pretending to have not heard his knock when he spoke, "Let me in, I know you're right in front of the door, boss."
I opened the door, admitting him, "Stop calling me boss."
He saluted me, "Yes, sir" and then he went over the bed, stretched out and patted the space next to him. "Join me."
My mind instructed my mouth to tell him what he could do with his presumption, and order him to leave, but my body seemed to have taken control and I walked over to the bed and lay down next to him. I curled my arms as close to my chest as I could and I was sure not to touch him.
"I'm not going to bite you," he laughed, "unless you want me to."
He sat up and took my chin in his hand tilted my head to look at him, "I promise not to do anything you don't want me to do. This is obviously not your normal mode of operation, so if you want me to go easy I will."
I cleared my throat, and shook my head to free myself from his hand, and got off the bed, "I think you should go. I am sorry I gave you the wrong impression."
He got to his feet, and instead of leaving put his hand on my chest right above my heart, "It's really racing, boss. You sure you want me to go?" He placed his other hand on my neck pulling me towards him, "Or do you want this?" with that he pressed his lips to mine and gave me a kiss.
Two things happened at once, I was surprised at his actions and my knees seemed to turn to water. When he ran his tongue over the roof of my mouth I found standing was no longer an option. I almost fell but Paul caught me and he lifted me like I was a child and placed me on the bed.
He stood over the bed looking down at me for a few minutes. I couldn't read his face, it was a mixture many emotions. He sat down next to me and placed his hand on my cheek. Then he smiled a half smile and found a hole in my shirt with his fingers and ripped it open.
The ripping sound triggered something in my brain and a feeling of panic overtook me, "No!" I pushed his hands away and yelled, "Get the hell out of here! Leave me alone!"
