The All-Judging Butterfly (poisontaster) wrote in whatwekeep, @ 2008-12-05 11:52:00 |
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It was getting dark by the time Connor finished trying things on, being poked, and prodded, and having things tailored to him. Thomas had approved what Connor considered to be an absolutely enormous pile of clothing, which had then been folded into four very large shopping bags and a garment bag to boot. In light of the minor fit Connor had nearly thrown when he found out the price of just one of the shirts, Thomas had asked Emmy to remove all of the price tags, and refused to allow Connor see the total of the bill. He had also insisted that Connor wear some of the purchases out of the store, so when hey hit the sidewalk, everything from his boxers to his coat was new, even down to the shoes on his feet. It was a strange sensation, but one he secretly enjoyed.
Despite Thomas’s continued assurances that Josh could easily afford the cost, Connor couldn’t quite ease the feeling of guilt. Even when he was free, he hadn’t owned so many clothes. He was beginning to understand about what Thomas meant about there occasionally being perks to being a body slave.
He refused Thomas’s offer to help him carry the bags into the house. Much as he would have preferred to not be alone with his master, he was highly aware of the fact that Thomas was eager to return home to his own mistress, and he could see no reason why one of them shouldn’t get what they wanted.
He hadn’t considered until he was on the front stoop the possibility that the door might be locked. He was fortunately saved a long wait in the cold when door swung open easily. The entry hall was dark, but he could hear the television playing in the other room. He was half-tempted to try sneaking up to his room, but figured it might not be the most successful of plans. Instead he set the bags down and went to stand in the doorway. Josh was lounging on the couch, light from the TV flickering over his face. He sat up when he saw Connor, pausing the program he had been watching.
“You clean up well.” He observed not unkindly. Connor grinned shyly at the approval despite himself. “Did you enjoy shopping?”
“It was nice.” He felt compelled to provide more of an answer, not wanting to sound terse or ungrateful. “I’ve never been into shopping, really. But Thomas made it a little more enjoyable. I’m afraid he might have gone a bit overboard though.” He hesitated. “I have a feeling it cost a lot.”
“I can afford it, I’m sure. Don’t be concerned about it.” Josh pulled himself into a sitting position. “Come on in here. Make yourself comfortable.” Connor complied. There was a beat of awkward silence, then “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”
“I…”
“It’s okay.” Josh held up his hand. “I know none of this is easy for you. I’ll be as understanding as I can be. Just try to work with me, that’s all I’m asking.”
“I can do that.” He had to bite his lip to keep the word ‘sir’ from rolling off his tongue.
“Good. Let’s start here. The dynamic we create between us is going to be important. But it’s strange and difficult too. In meetings with my business associates, or while we’re in public, we have to be master and slave, and seamlessly so. Slipping up there would be nothing short of disastrous. Worst case scenario, is the frightening possibility that my life, Summer’s life, Rob’s life could all be destroyed. I have very powerful business associates, and I have even more powerful enemies, and many of them are one and the same. They won’t hesitate to tear me limb from limb, and if annihilating you is the way to achieve that, they won’t bat an eye. You’re going to have to be every inch the perfect slave Commerce was training you to be. And I suppose I’m going to have to get over my hang-up on you calling me sir.” He shook his head fiercely. “But that’s not who I am. And it’s not who I want you to have to be. That dynamic has to appear real to any observer, but it’s going to be an act, and we’re simply going to have to be very good actors, because I refuse to become like my associates.
I want you to know you can speak freely, without fear of punishment or reprisal. You have the ability to tell me if something makes you uncomfortable, or angry, or pleased, or to make any request of me. Anything. Even if it’s something entirely banal like…craving a cherry coke.” He grinned and Connor made a faint grin creep across his own face in responce. Josh looked relieved. “You may be required to live here and be an occupant of this house. But I would hope that you come to consider it your home as well. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d even like for us to be able to become friends, of a sort. Does that sound like a goal we could work toward?”
“I…can try. If it would please you.”
“It would.”
“Then I’ll do my best. I’m not sure I know…what to do though.”
“Well…” Josh looked around. “Let’s do something…normal.”
“Like, something we would do if I weren’t your slave, and you weren’t my master?” Connor mocked. He tensed, regretting his cheek the moment the words were out of his mouth, but Josh was smiling widely and seemed far from upset, so Connor forced himself to slowly relax, realizing that no punishing blow was going to fall.
“Exactly. Why don’t we…watch a movie?”
“Alright. What were you watching when I came in?”
“This?” Josh gestured at the mounted screen. “The Street Key.”
“What is it about?” Josh raised his eyebrows incredulously.
“You’ve never seen The Street Key? Seriously? It’s a classic.” Connor shook his head. “Alright. Come here. This is what we’re going to watch, because it’s an amazing film.” He patted the cushion next to him. Dutifully, Connor scooted closer.
It was an amazing film, Connor agreed. Despite that fact though, he found he was so tired the he started nodding off toward the end of the film. When the credits began to roll, Josh stood up, telling him he as going to grab a soda he offered to get Connor something too but he refused. Watching Josh amble away, Connor felt a pang of regret that things weren’t different. He seemed like a good man; it would have been nice to know him apart from being his slave.
: : :
Connor woke to the sound of birds bickering outside the window. He was disoriented for a minute until he realized that he must have fallen asleep on the couch after the movie. It was light out now, so he’d obviously been asleep for several hours. There was an afghan draped over him, which he assumed Josh must have done. Even with it though, the room was cold. Outside, the sky was the same light grey it had been the previous morning. He contemplated going up to his own room, but at this point, he’d spent as much time on the couch as he had in his bed, and found himself equally unattached. The couch was more convenient though, so he left it just long enough to get the matching afghan from the chair in the far corner of the room before settling back in for a couple more hours of sleep considering the fact that the clock said it was barely seven-thirty.
The next time he awoke, it was because he heard noises from the kitchen. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he wrapped one of the afghans around his shoulders and made his way toward the kitchen. Josh was already there, pouring a cup of coffee.
“Want some?” he held up the pot.
“If it’s alright.”
“Of course it is. You drink coffee often?”
Connor shrugged. Remembering the conversation the night before, he cautiously ventured to add a bit more.
“Not really. My mom used to make tea in the mornings, so if I drank something hot and caffeinated, it was much more likely to be that. I guess I sort of developed a liking for it.”
“I have tea too. Would you like some of that instead?”
“No, really, I don’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s not trouble. It gives me a chance to show off the full range of my culinary skills. Shockingly, boiling water is actually something I can achieve, mostly thanks to the advances of modern technology.” He was already filling some appliance with water from the tap. Once it was full, he put it back on its base a flicked a switch. “And Voila! In a minute, there shall be water for tea. Tea can be found in that cabinet over there. Pick your poison.” He gestured.
“What is that thing?” Connor flicked his gaze to the appliance, moving to the cabinet Josh had indicated. It was hardly advanced conversation, but hey- he was making an effort to please his master.
“That, my friend, is called an electric kettle. It is furthermore the only way I am capable of boiling water. My younger sister gifted it to me with a heavy dose of mocking after I fatally scorched my third actual kettle.”
“Your sister, that’s…Summer, right?”
“This particular one, yes.” Josh agreed cheerfully. “My father was…I suppose you could call him a ladies man. I believe he’s now on his…ninth marriage. Although there were a couple of repeats there, so he’s actually only married seven women. Between half-siblings and step-siblings, there are actually eleven of us.” He noticed Connor’s interested gaze, and so volunteered more information where he would normally have stopped. “Summer, Rob and I are pretty much the only ones who keep in touch. It’s fairly convoluted, but it boils down to the fact that my mother was married to him for about fifteen years She was his fourth wife, and the other divorces were messy, so we rarely saw my half-siblings. When they separated, they decided I should stay with my father most of the time for school and everything. A few months later, My father married Rob’s mother, and divorced her a year later. Rob and I became best friends in that time though, so we stuck close to each other. After he divorced Cynthia, he married Karen, who had been his mistress for years. She brought Summer with her, who was about…eleven at the time. After Karen died in a car crash, there were a couple of quick marriages, which Summer and I both tried to stay away from. The year before I graduated college it became a whole hell of a lot easier to avoid, as my father disowned me. For several years, up until three years ago when he re-married Rob’s mother, I honestly couldn’t have told you who he was with.”
“Wow. That’s…convoluted. I can’t really imagine it.”
“What was your family like, then?”
Connor hadn’t expected the question to sound so genuine. He had been told repeatedly how owners didn’t want to know about a slave’s life before that owner bought them, and that questions like that were perfunctory and should be answered vaguely, if at all. But Josh was looking a him as though he really wanted to know. Like you would ask an equal. He pushed the traitorous thought fiercely from his mind and focused on providing a suitable answer. Once the words started though, they tumbled out one after another, he himself powerless to stop them.
“I was an only child. My parents were great- working class, and never really well-off, but caring and affectionate. We were about as happy as anybody gets, and everything was good until my dad got injured and lost his job. A month later, my mom found out she was pregnant- so with both their medical bills, and there being a lot less income… I found a letter saying that the mortgage had been defaulted on. I had to do something, so I did this. I’ve seen you or…” He had trouble with the familiarity of saying the first name, “ or Rob look at me sometimes like I’m a victim. I’m not though. I made a choice.”
“You didn’t choose to be a body slave though, did you?”
Connor cringed, feeling error wash over him, closing up like a clam again.
“I’m sorry it’s so apparent. I’ll work to correct it immediately.”
Josh struggled for words.
“That’s not what I was saying.”
“It’s alright. You said yourself that we have to appear perfect to the rest of the world. I’ll work on it.”
Josh sighed and nodded. Once he was occupied with another task, Connor slipped out to collect the bags of clothing from the hall where he had abandoned them the previous night. Josh looked up when he began to carry them up the kitchen stairs, but said nothing. Connor was glad of the fact. Every time they spoke, he felt more and more unsettled by the fact that Josh seemed so…nice. But being lulled into a sense of security would just made it even harder to bear when the other shoe dropped. Already this morning he had been forced to confront memories of his parents, his former life. Things his training had made him forget and that he had struggled to keep from rising to the surface of his thoughts for the past two days- thoughts of his parents, and his old life, and everything else he’d never see again. Alone in his room that didn’t belong to him, he let the bags drop to the floor, sliding down the door to join them there a moment later, letting the tears that had been welling in his eyes spill over.