Want

I want to know how it'll end.
I want to be sure of what it'll cost.


   In a fit of a temper Alan hit the wheel with his palm flatly. Mister Random chose this song to play in his car absolutely irrelevantly.
   It rushed into Alan today right in the morning. Some strange feeling flooded him from the inside. The feeling was so clear he started to feel himself uncomfortable. He started to worry but there wasn`t any grounds for it. He shaved his face nervously, checked for no reason for ten times did he shave well enough, and splashed his face with perfume twice because he forgot that he did it already. And he suddenly started to hate his dark grey comfortable blazer, because he found it too worn-out, and put on his new black shirt. Hepzibah, his beloved spouse, who were applying her makeup in the bathroom, looked at him very suspiciously. But he just couldn`t help it. His heart starts missing a bit from the strange premonition.
   He was planning his own business in the morning, but Hep asked him to pick her up, so they would buy a wedding gift to Alan`s colleague, they were invited to this event next Saturday.
"Very well", Alan said, " but you will go to the shop by yourself."
"And why is that?" Hep objected, " He is your colleague. What if I`ll choose something weird?"
"Like I care", Alan said with mischievous grin.
"Right. Like you care", His spouse mocked him.
   They both laughed, when they went out, heading to the car. Actually they slightly disapprove the choice of Alan`s colleague and often chuckling with each other about his misadventures on his way to the family happiness.
"If you couldn`t cope with the consequences, you`d better not put it out off your pants at all", his wife was kidding terrifyingly, as always.
" Indeed", Alan grinned, "Each of us should have been thinking about it from the start."
   His spouse got offended on him, because she decided that he meant her. Of course Alan hurried up to assure his wife:
"I did not think about you when I told you that!" So he caused more uncomfortable questions, like whom was he thinking about actually? And when exactly he had the time to put it out off his pants and what did she miss.
"Hep, I cheat on you only with the bottle of Stoli, cross my heart! I did it a lot, hard and often but with her only!"
"That means you were talking about me", Hep said gloomy.
"God bless you, woman!" Alan replied quickly.
"Whom, then?"
"It was just an expression."
"Alan Charles Wilder. You can`t say something that would be just an expression, because you just can`t", Hep said, "Left turn."
"Well, let us assume I`ve been talking about my first wife. Feeling better?"
"Nope", Hep said, "I asked you to turn left. Now you missed the turn. What`s wrong with you today?"
"Shit! You`ve drowned me in empty talk!" Alan said de bene esse, " why do women always talk that much?"
"I don`t know why do women always talk that much", Hepzibah was as cold as a stone, "I mostly care when men talk too much."
Alan`s lips formed a thin line. He got furious but tried to keep control with diligence.
"Anything you say may be taken down and used as evidence?" He asked through his clenched teeth.
   Hepzibah started to laugh, anyway she decided not to press his husband too hard, because it seemed that he was in the wrong box today, so she turned it all into a joke:
"A-ye, A-ye, sir! You both were combined by passion! You are so emotional!"
   Alan faked a smile. That wasn`t so funny for him at all. But he thought it wouldn`t be polite not to support his wife`s mood. There was a second reason either. But mainly it wouldn`t be polite.
"I wouldn`t call it passion, though…it was"
"It was?"
"I think….I suppose, this man meant so much to me", Alan said emotionless, "too much. Overvalued."
"A man", Hep`s voice sounded weird, "Alan loved a man. Did he?"
Alan`s face stood calm this time. He decided not to notice the provocation. He was on his guard.
"I didn`t say it was him, Hep."
"You didn`t say it was her, Al."
"Shut up, Hep, or I say nothing."
"Damn, you caught me!"
They both laughed once again.
"I supposed, it meant so much for me. Those. Relationships. When I was young I thought it was love in itself. Now, it is terrible to me to think what it was actually."
"Stop here, and wait for me. It won`t be long."
   Hepzibah seemed to lose all her interest to his revelations and opened the door of the car, letting the warm air to go inside the air-conditioned cabin. Alan respired and set the collar of his black shirt right. He desperately needed some air.
   No, not love. Fear? Envy? Hate? Rivalry? Control? Struggle for power? For respect? For love? Oh, no, he never loved someone he was quite confident so far. He wouldn`t risk his health for it. And in this particular moment, mister Random decided to answer Alan`s question, by starting to play WANT. Want. Want. That`s it. Just like this. Not even desire, just want. I want and fuck it. I want and I don`t give a damn of how it will end. I want and I don`t give a shit of what it will cost. I just wonder how far you can go. I want to taste my own kind.
   He felt the cold sweat started to form on his forehead, because the feeling became so intense….the feeling he thought he lost years and years ago. He felt the pain that made him paranoid this morning. There was only one person in this world that could make him painfully itching for no reason. The feeling of his presence was so clear; Alan even looked through the car window. He saw a young pair, a girl and a boy were sitting on the bench staring at their i-phones, and he saw a fat pigeon, hobbling down the pavement.
"Idiot", he said to himself.
   His telephone started ringing in his pocket. Unknown number. Alan was looking at it for a while, thinking should he answer it or not. Finally he started worrying if something had happened with his children or something so he carefully said:
"Hello."
"Miller" spitted out his mobile phone, "I`m not at my place."
"Hi, Dan." Alan said.
"What are you doing right now, old boy?"
"Performing my marital duty."
"Succeed?" The producer was not confused at all.
"Waiting for my wife to return from her shopping while sitting in my car near the shopping mall. You want me to visit you at your office?"
"Oh,… yeah, exactly", Daniel said after a minute, "but I am not at the Country at the moment. Come next Tuesday, on five-o-clock."
"What had happened … in generally?" Alan asked.
"Need money?"
"Have to work?"
"A little", Miller said, "Some sideline for two month or so, in the studio."
"«Recoil»?" Alan specified.
"No," Miller chuckled, "just some young unknown boy band", Miller started to laugh out loud to his own joke, "with some stupid French name… how to pronounce? «De-pe-shi-e Mode». No fear, man, nothing unnatural, just refreshing some old material. I am sorry, I have to go now, so see you next Tuesday. Alan? Hello, Alan, are you there? Alan?"
"Yes, I am", Alan said when he finally can unclench his damn teeth, "Yes, Tuesday, that`s fine for me, Dan."
   After the words «De-pe-shi-e Mode» he heard very clearly, somewhere on the other side of the phone line, there was the laugh. This laugh he could never confuse with anything in this world and he could never forget. He heard it in his nightmares. And not only in nightmares. He hoped that he will never hear this laugh again, probably only on his own funerals, but he won`t really care in that particular case.
   His forehead was covered with sweat. He turned his rear-view mirror and pull Kleenex out off the glove compartment to wipe his forehead dry. It was too impossible. He saw the pale mask with widened pupils of his eyes and dropped jaw.
"You are a beauty!" He told himself.
   After a second after he started to feel that he was daydreaming. That it was some sort of odd hallucination. Probably, he should sleep more and drink less yesterday.
   Hep was pretty happy when returned to him with the big festively decorated box. He felt her perfume mixed with the warm air again and started to feel that his mind was playing tricks on him. But out of prudence he pushed «save» button. In his leisure hours on the evening, very likely, he will check this international phone code. Just to kill his paranoia to the hell of it.
"Let`s go", Hep said impatiently.
"Wait a minute."
   Alan`s fancy carried him away in time for two decades ago.


***

I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me.

   It was raining. What a surprise for the London summer! Grey days and humidity and rain. However, it was warm in Miller`s Mute studio. Fletch was picking his nose thoughtfully. Alan was staring into the blinking computer`s screen. Everything was in place. There was a smell of burning only, because Martin decided to make himself a toast.
"Martin, aren`t you burning something?" Alan shouted irritated not even turning his head. Fletch seemed doesn`t care and Dave had as he explained «dat rhi-d-itis», he caught a cold and just couldn`t smell this infernal smoke that started to eat everybody`s eyes out.
"No, I am fine, thank you", Martin announced very politely and charmingly, then he laughed cheerfully, "well,… I think…I suppose….generally speaking…erm… I shall state a fact that I`ve already burn the shit out of it! Besides, I`m not quite sure that I understood how it had happened."
   Dave roared with laughter, jumped up immediately and ran to Martin, to check out his achievements in his primitive culinary. Soon his buoyant laughter filled the kitchen, also he mixed it with his advises to Martin to start to lecture in Oxford «How to prepare a toast and not to burn down your house». Dave said that Martin is a professor, because he never knew before that the bread can be turned down into this condition in the toaster. Also Dave was really interested, if Martin used liquid fire or he preferred old-style kerosene. Martin`s invariable:
"Heh-heh-heh", was his only answer.
   Fletch stopped reading his newspaper and decided to go and see what was happening. He started chuckling already in the hall. Soon his wise commands started to sound from the kitchen with such professionalism like he was a surgeon performing an operation.
"Spatula."
"No, use the fork."
"Second one."
   Finally Alan couldn`t stand it anymore and went downstairs to be the part of this serious event. He pushed Fletch who was standing in his way with his shoulder away.
   Martin was half-laying on his stomach on the kitchen table concentrating… well nobody could said that he wasn’t trying to… but his thirty-two teeth smile were shining on his happy face while he was holding the toaster with his both hands.
"Oh, fucking cunt! I can`t tear it off… Mart, did you spread some glue on your toast? Huh?"
"No. Shall I?" Innocently asked Martin, "remind me the next time. I will… spread."
"Ouch! Fuck! It`s fucking hot… I will fucking spread ya…shit! WHAT?!"
"Heh-heh-heh…"
   As were actually mentioned, Martin was half-laying on his stomach on the kitchen table. He was… let me put it that way…topless. He took off his sweater; probably he was too proud of his fresh summer tan, which he got despite the rainy weather. Dave rolled up the sleeves of his checkered shirt, he was carefully scrapping the toaster`s insides.
"How do you usually do it in the morning, Mart?"
"I am afraid, your idea of my morning routine is somewhat wrong, Dave", Martin`s smile was heard even in his voice, "I don`t usually do it in the morning. I usually go to the City by the morning train. Then I wake up. Sometimes."
   Now it was Fletch`s turn to laugh when he started to recalling all the times when he was dragging sleepy Martin out of the train onto the platform. Alan started to laugh too, and decided to do everything like it should be done.
   He estimated their disposition to find his way to get to the toaster. There was Dave on the right side from Martin, he was manipulating with his hellish pokers. Fletch looked preoccupied and he was breathing heavily and noisily through the nose. With mischievous grin Alan decided that he has no choice, and then he did lay down on Martin`s back, as he was in his shirt and leather vest.
"Let the Master do his job!" Alan jeered, catching up Martin`s body quite unexpectedly from the both sides, very carefully like he was a baby, but very efficiently like he meant only business. Alan didn`t realize how it dawned upon him to lay down onto half-naked Martin. Well Martin was walking around half-naked from time to time, so the lads got used to it. Alan didn`t want to show that it bothers him, because nobody in this studio was bothered at all. That`s why he did it.
   Alan pulled the grid off the toaster, by holding it with his right hand that was right above Martin`s. He consciously restricted Martin`s freedom to move, making him feel helpless at that point. Suddenly Alan felt how the body underneath him strained. He virtually saw goose bumps running down Martin`s spine, but this tension was not hostile. He`d rather decide that there was something sexual in it; well he could be mistaken, though.
   Strangest wave of energy rushed over him from Martin, as he realized that this guy underneath not actually caring much to won back his freedom. Otherwise, somehow he chose to obey his will and found this situation highly amusing. Alan felt Martin relaxed under him, melting like an ice, subjecting to him deliberately. Alan could swear that everything had happened in that exact moment. Or to be more precise he realized that everything will happen between them both at any case. Sooner or later.
   Dave`s gaze was slipping absent-mindlessly on Martin`s totally relaxed pose, and stopped on lad`s temple. Then his gaze slowly moved on Alan.
   Alan anxiously pushed his ass back, because the feeling of the Martin`s body obeying him, stung him right into his groin. Suddenly Alan caught himself imitating the fact that he is very enthusiastically peering into the depths of an old toaster under the cross-fire of the Dave`s and Fletch`s stares. Actually, he was just trying to lower his head closer to Martin`s bare shoulder, because the smell of his skin – that was what the main thing that he wanted to feel, the more the better. It was Alan`s trial not to Martin but to himself. It was so very clear to Alan, which it was the very first moment, when he began to perceive his friend as a sexual object. And he was wondering how it will end. He wasn`t in love, he, actually never was in love with anyone before, let`s say Martin retained his interest. He never lost his head. Well, it seems like this. So he was pretty calm and just waited when a natural barrier will trigger. He was sure, it will. And he will want Martin no longer. So he was teasing his himself and his friend quite shamelessly.
   Martin likes to behave like some bimbo, he was absolutely dysfunctional in life, showing his naivety and disadaptation to the “life in general”, like he was calling his lifestyle in Basildon, his fights with the local rednecks, who beat the shit off him and Fletch almost every time, in particular. Occasionally, they were managing to escape, though. They were returning from London after their work by the last train, and it was quite difficult to avoid this. However, Martin took it as a necessary evil, he did not care to resist, just sometimes, when he was in the mood, complaining or joking with his colleagues on "The world we live in, and life in general".
   The story of how Martin drove his girlfriend to the movies, and later, after a couple of hours Fletch dragged home a hero-lover, whom he found sitting in a puddle, in a state when he was dead drunk right before reaching an Earth orbit, puking all around, cheer up even their manager Miller. Every time Miller heard this story he even took off his glasses to wipe tears of laughter. Martin, was giggling, self-satisfied and embarrassed at the same time, somehow he was able to look both embarrassed and self-satisfied at the same time, like when Dave asked him for a lighter and told Martin to look into the pocket of his yellow jacket. Dave also found a pack of marijuana in his pocket and female stockings and a candy. Dave couldn`t help to note this fact, he entered the studio wistfully with the stockings in his hand:
"Martin, and why exactly do you need THAT?"
"Heh-heh-heh", Martin was giggling, self-satisfied and embarrassed, and he was pretty sure that it was an irrefragable answer.
   Alan was elder, as it seems much elder at the moment and he was strongly suspected that Martin`s buffoonery and his deliberately unassumingly manner, his unnatural suppleness especially admired by Daniel Miller, because he knew that Martin will always do what he was asked with no questions, it`s just Martin`s way to win.
   Much later, when Martin has rooted under his skin, so to rip the guy out off him was as painful and disgusting as to rip out some of Alan`s own inner organs, spleen or two kidneys one after another, Alan was horrified to realize that his young friend was just compensating his overdeveloped self-centeredness, rigidity and aggression. Being such a skeptic as Alan was it was necessary to suspect that this bunch of shiny angelic qualities never had been given in this Earth for free. But at the moment Alan was just thinking that it`s just Martin`s boyish kind of compensation to seem more successful on his friends` eyes. Alan pitied him for that. And Alan played with him, like he was trying to give Martin some support that he hasn`t got.
   Later Alan realized also that he shouldn`t have listened Dave`s stories that were putting Martin down intentionally or not by telling that Martin was just copying him, Dave, and what he did a long time ago and that Martin is probably just a bit jealous because Dave was the bully and he, Martin, was the quite one. Alan shouldn`t have listened Dave because in fact he relaxed when he shouldn`t do that.
   He understood lately the reason why Dave was so eager to put Martin down in his eyes, but at the moment he just thought that probably he could help this simpleton to achieve something that rings true? Especially in case when Martin regarded him with some degree of cautious respect and it seemed he was flattered by Alan`s attention. Idiot. He`d better listen carefully all the intonations of this damn self-satisfied “Heh-heh-heh” than Dave. That was what Hep, his wife, said to him once and he could not disagree.
   Hep loved Dave. He seemed very sweet, simple and sociable person for her, as her husband. She didn`t love Martin, calling him “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide in one” because he seemed so sweet and nice, especially the drunk one, but at the same time he was a quite a rude monster, misanthrope and a scum. Hep said that she always hated men like Martin. Alan suspected that she probably had some particular female personal reason to hate Martin but he was consciously aware to analyze this to make Hepzibah love Martin. His inner psychoanalyst was pretty shocked when he realized that he, Alan, loves Martin and that was more than enough. Alan barely survived this idea.
   When he realized that fact, Martin didn`t love him in return already. Well, let`s say, Martin no longer needed him. He took everything he wanted. Martin was a fast learner, he had a phenomenal memory to the things that was interesting for him.
   Hepzibah helped Alan to fight the ghosts from his past, assuring him that he made the right choice; Alan wasn`t that sure when he was all by himself.
   But let`s return to the Mute`s kitchen and to the burnt toasts. At this time Alan was overwhelmed with research interest. More precisely, so it seemed for him. He was mesmerized with the chemistry that was flowing between their bodies; he`s and Martin`s. It was like they were making love in front of Dave and Fletch and they like had no idea of what was going on.
   Alan was still staring into the toaster`s insides and lowered his face almost to Martin`s shoulder, feeling the scent of his skin. It smelled like honey. Not the most distinguished scent in perfumery, too down-to-earthy and too literal, somehow too natural, not very pleasant from the very beginning but catching and calling you to feel it over and over again, nevertheless making you drool realizing that nothing can smell better and be sweeter than this.
   Alan closed his eyes for a second, imagining how he is moving down by Martin`s spine with light kisses and stopping right between his shoulder blades; making himself sure with perverted preciseness that he is absolutely ready to go to the next stage and fighting the temptation to taste Martin`s skin… at this exact moment he felt that Dave was burning a hole in his forehead with his stare like an optical sight.
   Exactly at this very moment triumphant Alan pulled out the grid with the remains of the burnt toast, graciously given Martin an opportunity to slip out of his sudden embrace.
"Who`s wearing the trousers here?" Alan asked victoriously waving the grid in the air.
"Heh-heh-heh", Martin said very eloquently, and took away the grid. Look askance, however was enough to make it clear to Alan that Martin understood what was happening between them.
   Alan cheerfully poured himself a glass of vodka with orange juice and overthrew his “screwdriver” with one gulp. Crazy idea that contrary to his expectation nothing is over yet and he somehow subconsciously waiting for some response from Martin, oddly enough, really cheered him up.
   It seems he began to find advantages from the work for this strange band. Well a couple of. And he still saw Martin as a sexual object. He couldn`t help it. He just wanted more. However at the moment it did not scare him at all.
   He was wondering what Martin will do. His response; now it was the most important. Concerning the morality of his behavior as well as the consequences he would think tomorrow, maybe. Now he was a hunter and it was hell fun. The funniest part was to hunt in front of the lads, who suspected nothing; but yet he was quite aware of the idea to find a way to have some privacy with Martin here.
"Alan, what are you doing there?" Dave asked, waving him to go back to the studio, "wondering whether you should sample the burnt toaster, man?!"
"Very funny, Dave", Alan said, "Can`t believe it is your idea…"
   They were working late into the night. Alan was shuddering from each movement of Martin; he was mocking himself on the fact that he behaves like an eleven years old girl at a school dance, and it was cooling his ardor a bit, but Martin was keeping his distance and he was showing no sign that what had happened earlier today was not the result of Alan`s vivid imagination. It was two o`clock a.m. when Alan convinced himself that that sexually yielding flesh under him was just a figment of his sick imagination.
   Alan stood over the sound controls, shifting the body weight on his hands, and tried to think about the song. At that very moment Martins bare arm rubbed against his arm hard as a man should but nonchalantly like a cat would. Alan was already drunk enough to look Martin into his eyes and sober enough to realize that this was precisely what he was waiting the whole day.
   God, he`s seen this picture from the studio a thousand times. Martin and him, shoulder to shoulder. It looked innocent as hell. It looked as innocent as it actually was not at all. He never knew what was going on inside of Martin, but he knew what had happened to him. And it was far from innocent.
   They recorded “Stories of Old”

Take a look at unselected cases
You'll find love has been wrecked
By both sides compromising
Amounting to a disastrous effect

“Love”, suddenly Martin said, “I see love as a con-so-la-tion,…some kind of the consolation prize and some great reward…for the…erm… life routine. You know the booby prize that is given to those who came… last”.
“Interesting theory”, Alan said, “although, controversial.”
“I mean sex. And booze. They compensate somehow the desperate boredom of existence.”
Alan nodded intently:
“I agree, particularly with the booze part. Are you so bored with life?”
“Yes, I am”, Martin said honestly.
“And why is that?”
“I don`t know”, Martin spoke too buoyantly to truly believe how bored he is. “Probably because nobody gives it to me”
“Hm. Come with me; I can give you something” Alan said grimly.
“What?” Martin tensed a little in response to his proposal. Alan could not help but enjoyed a couple of minutes of his pure triumph over his fellow.
“A drink. And what did you expect?”
  Martin laughed out loud in his own authentic manner, and Alan understood that he appreciated the depth of his humour.
“My last train is just left” sadly said Martin, looking at the clock on the studio wall and clinking glasses with Alan.
“Well, let`s drink to the train” Alan said “Call your mother”.
“What`s the point if I won`t be home tonight?” Martin asked and that put Alan in a deadlock for a few seconds. Then he decided to answer him in the same absurd manner so that his words would reach Martin more easily:
“Call your sisters then.”
“They are sleeping already.”
“I think I understand you” Alan took off his vest and put on his leather jacket; “Well, Mister Gore, and what are your plans for tonight? Can I engage you to visit some God-forbidden place called nightclub, just around the corner and drink with me a cup of misanthropy, caused by watching people around, to the bottom?”
“It sounds surprisingly alluring” Martin said, “As compared to my planning night at the station. I am all yours”.
  Martin quickly pulled on his thick-knitted white sweater, worn yellow leather jacket, jumped into his shoes not untying the shoelaces and now he was bouncing impatiently. Alan was still standing before the mirror, combing his hair and smoothing it back. Then he held out a comb to Martin.
“I better not”, Martin shook his head his face became suddenly so if he were to cry.
  Alan laughed. Martin`s complicated relationships with his hair, stiff rebellious African curls, died into the hellish yellowish white with some sort of class hatred, it has already become a byword.
“So, Angela Davis, the heroine of the African people, should we stay or should we go now?”
“Heh-heh-heh”
They walked down the street and just passed the bus stop.
“Hey, where are you going?” Martin asked when Alan spontaneously ran across the street to the homeless who were sleeping in a TV box under the bridge.
“Wait a minute” Alan said. He quickly sat down in front of the homeless, throwing him some trifle, and raced back “You never know what tomorrow will bring” he shrugged sheepishly, as if  he was ashamed of this manifestation of kindness as a shameful act of weakness on Martin`s eyes, “My Grandma said so.”
  He was afraid that Martin will make laugh of him, as his friends always did. But Martin`s face showed no trace of a smile. He was quite serious and repeated Alan`s actions, and left homeless some money. And he said nothing about this at all.
   After walking a few hundred meters to the left, they stopped, staring for some time at the brightly lit storefront of the Musical Instruments Shop. They were just standing there and shoving each other in the ribs, like “look, this one looks really cool”. Alan admitted that he gathering his own collection of wicked instruments, and he was pointing with his finger every now and then, to show Martin what he has already got and what he needs.
    Martin was leaning against the window, burying his nose in the glass, closing his face with his palms from the both sides so let the streetlights make him see what was inside. From the point where he stood Alan could see pretty well, but he was more interested to look at Martin, staring at the instruments with the same absolute ecstatic lust, as a child, staring at the counter of the confectionery. So he just stood there and smiled as he looked at Martin. Alan felt himself surprisingly good. The rain had stopped, it was damp and warm. The air was thick and left a chewy sweetness on the mouth and elm on the teeth like semolina pudding. Martin was making him smile constantly. Martin smiled so that crunched behind the ears; he seemed to be absolutely happy.
  Alan wanted to go up and cuddle up to Martin to absorb this sudden feeling of absolute happiness. He felt Martin exuded it, and if he comes to it now, happiness will overflow him as well. Martin was still shining, even when he shared his secret by telling Alan the heartbreaking story how his mother threw his collection of rare records off. Alan knew all the suffering of Martin`s wounded soul, but he just laughed out loud because he couldn`t help it. Martin was not offended, he laughed in response, adding by the way and rather cruel that he will never forgive her. The streets were empty; their steps echoed loudly. They were intoxicated with the night.
   Then the guys started a football game by hitting an empty beer can all over the place, bending in half in laughter because first Martin, in the heat of the game, bumped his foreheas on the post, so Alan laughed, and rushed back to the phone booth, Martin almost fell out laughing about that.
“Are you not ashamed of the way you scoffing your friend?!” giggling Alan was asking Gore.
“Oh…no! Not at all! Can you…re….ha-ha…repeat it once again?”
“Shit!” Alan bumped his head to the club door, “Martin aren`t you going to enter, huh?”
  Martin was crying with laughter, he was hugging the post on the other side of the street from Alan:
“A-a-ah,…you….just…just leave me here… ha-haaaa-haaaa”
“Oh, Martin…” Alan shook his head, still smiling and stepped through the door. The guard looked at him; Martin, however, did not follow. Alan was staring at the corridor walls for a few minutes, then opened the street door:
“Uh…Martin?”
    Martin stood right behind the door; he opened his mouth in amazement, while he was looking at the flashing sign of the club. When he finally spoke his voice was expressing some very strange emotions:
“Alan Wilder, this is a gay bar!” He said; “You brought me to a gay bar, Alan Wilder?”
“Dammit, Martin! Fuck you, don`t act like you was born yesterday!” Alan said and grabbed him by the hand “Hey, do you know another place that is open now, at night?! Come on, let`s go, for sure you can buy a drink here”.
“Oh, really? I thought clubs should serve some free drinks for the girls” Martin gave his thirty-two teeth smile to the guard “If that so, I think you should know that I am an open lesbian”
“Martin fucking Gore!” Alan said strictly.
“Heh-Heh-Heeeh” Martin fucking Gore replied.
  There were just a few people inside the club and it was relatively quiet. A few tables were occupied, and several pairs of shadows were moving to the music, somewhere closer to the dark corners. The light was dim and the music itself wasn`t loud enough to make them scream into each other`s ears. An average club, so they drank a couple beers there. Some beefy hairy dude defiled near them, he was wearing some American policeman-style leather cap. Martin jabbed a finger at him absolutely childlike:
“Look, Al, Andy was performing in a cap like that!”
The dude was obviously staring at Martin, but Martin was not confused at all, because he can`t see the dude. He was busy with his beer mug.
“Was it your idea?” Alan asked skeptically, lighting a cigarette.
“No, this is Dave. He`s our designer” Martin said.
“Oh, my God, where I am?”
“I… I was wearing this cross-harness, you know, like that one this dude is wearing on his boobs” Martin chuckled “It`s so nice”
“Isn`t it?”
“Well, I like it” Martin said.
“I`d say, you`d better stop poking him with your finger” Alan said carefully.
“Whom?”
Alan showed with his chin.  Martin narrowed his eyes trying to see the guy more clearly but failed, and just forgot about it.
““Shall we play?” Huh?” half-kidding, Alan asked somehow between this and then.
“What?”
“The play”
“Which play?” Martin looked so uncomplicated, and the subtle hope that was born inside of Alan died a natural death.
“BDSM” Alan said grimly, “Bondage. Domination. Sadism. Masochism. Do you know what I mean?”
“No, I think I…probably… do not… know”, Martin`s cheeks suddenly flushed bright, Alan could have sworn he felt the heat emanating from them, “Well…yes, I know actually… But in general, like… no.”
  Martin buried his embarrassment in his mug of beer. They sat together side by side on high stools at the bar. Martin seemed not feel himself comfortable here at first, so he leaned into Alan`s space, lightly resting his thigh and arm against Alan, like he though he will be safe like that. It seemed that Martin trusted him; at least Alan did not feel the trick. Later when they drank a little, Martin relaxed a bit, but did not move away from him.
   Alan had seen Martin was sitting with Dave like that a lot, leaning to him with his whole body, therefore Alan considered himself particularly honored by the trust, and did not resist. Well, he actually liked it in a certain sense. He just didn`t want Martin to know about it. So, he was just sitting there, too afraid to move his leg of his arm, not to frighten Martin off.
    They were sitting there in silence for quite a while. Suddenly, Martin turned to him and gasped:
“Do you?” Alan felt Martin`s breath with his neck. And he felt creeps. Probably it was bad idea to bring the guy there… indeed, he started to feel that he want to play with him. Alan squinted warily at Martin and met his shiny emerald gaze full of interest and admiration. Obviously, Martin found a way to cope with his previous embarrassment, and now his face showed only interest and admiration. This face admired Alan Wilder. This face admired him. Damn. Alan realized that he definitely will have to lie to Martin. He will do anything not to betray those shining emeralds.
“I do” he said very seriously, hoping that the natural paleness of his skin will hide his emotions.
“Tell me”, Martin said, “How it goes”
“Martin” Alan pushed his beer aside, “I guess it is very incorrectly to ask”
“Why?”
“Well, Martin, there are some things…beyond…”
“Beyond what?”
“You know, there is such thing as one`s personal life. For example, I am not asking you how you jerk off usually, right, Martin?” 
  Martin looked at him with a strange smile. More precisely, Alan couldn’t understand if Martin has such strange shaped lips, or he was smiling at him in a very strange way. He was staring right into his eyes, not blinking at all, like a snake, hypnotizing his prey.
“Give me your hand” suddenly Martin said “Look, you just have to put your hand on…you know…just like this” He showed how, firmly and painfully grabbed Alan`s wrist and started to move his palm up and down in the very distinctive manner. Then he laughed out loud.
   Alan abruptly leaned back, almost falling off the chair. Blood rushed to his head. He opened his mouth unable to make a sound. He had not expected that sudden aggressive provocation from Martin. He was too relaxed, or too tired or too drunk but he believed Martin`s childish behavior, so innocent and pure; his brains couldn`t switch into another position so quickly. He realized what had happened only when he saw that Martin was laughing at him. Alan looked askance at him, while he was climbing down from his stool:
“I need to pee” he hissed through his teeth.
    Alan went to the loo, stiff-legged. The feeling of warmth and trust left him with no trace remains. Now he was shaking inside; with a little help of nicotine and alcohol but mostly from the ice rocks in his stomach. He felt anger and irrational fear now. He felt fear and anger that he sat down in a puddle in front of Martin. Alan was waiting all night for Martin to response,  and once he relaxed he was immediately caught off-guard and Martin hit him straight between the eyes.
    Alan cursed himself that he didn`t took Martin`s earlier words seriously enough: “Sex and the booze against the boredom of existence”. Oh, well, so we are having fun now. We are making fun of Alan, now! The fuck you don`t know how to play, baby! What a fool I was to think that it was just a figure of speech.
   That was no accident, that was Martin`s answer to his question. Martin is expecting the next movement from him now. And if he could not respond adequately, he will fucking fall from his pedestal like some cormorant with turpentine in his ass.
    Alan groaned over the urinal, burying his forehead in his fist, rests in a gray painted brick wall.
“The fuck you don`t know how it goes” he said to his own cock, scaring the shit off two gays cuddling in a corner, well he was not trying to talk to his cock, it`s just nobody else was around. Martin was not there: “And what the hell are you doing to me right now? Damn, what a fool I`ve been!”
    On the other hand, Alan thought, washing his hands, that there was also a positive side of Martin`s behavior. Obviously Martin showed his interest in the game and he was obviously trying him otherwise Martin wouldn`t do it. Well, that was definitely the positive aspect of the issue. Alan looked at the mirror turning his head to one side than to another, proudly thrusting out his chin. Let`s see who will win!
“So, let`s play then” Alan said to his own reflection.
Alan returned to Martin in a much better mood, scrolling through the options how to respond to Martin`s provocation. It was only later when he finally realized that that was the exact moment when he swallowed Martin`s bait, and had been caught with the hook in his cheek like some stupid fat carp. He will figure it out later.
  Now he knew what to do and something told him that Martin probably wouldn`t find the answer too easy.

***

Alan came home in the evening and turned on his computer immediately. He didn`t even undress, just took off and threw away his shoes. That damn laptop never booted for so long. It seemed to mock him, proposing to make urgently a couple of updates, and just stop working for a while downloading Skype. When he finally got to the site with the phone codes his hands was shaking with hatred for this insidious piece of iron.
     However it was worth the wait. His intuition did not fail him. Alan pulled out his phone and looked at it with the warmest affection he possessed. No, not in vain, this morning he was feeling like he was hit by the truck. His poor nerves could not help but feel the vibrations of the noosphere, if THIS was approaching him.
   As he suspected, his cell-phone showed him the code of the sweet small California town called Santa Barbara. The place on a map, he usually was too scared to look at. Alan rubbed his forehead and chuckled. So, California, then. If Miller called him from Santa Barbara, then it is not that bad with his ears and his brains. So, this phone number has something to do with Martin Gore. The hell he will erase it now.
    He wasn`t sure at the moment how he can use it at all, but the idea to erase it seemed monstrous. California. The image of California reminded him of the song. The very thought about this place suddenly inspired him to turn on this old song, the one that was too hard to forget even if he didn`t turn it on willingly for ages. But today it was something wrong with his mood. The train of thoughts and memories was impossible to stop now. Hence, it was easier to succumb than to resist it.