Date: Thu, 26 Jul 2007 10:07:36 +0100 (BST)
From: Michael Arram <mike_arram@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: After Alex 10

This is a further instalment of my long running series of sagas about Matt
White and his partner Andy Peacher, and the circle of their friends.  The
first of these was Towards the Decent Inn, which appeared in the Nifty
College section quite some while ago.  You can locate this and its many
successors through the Nifty Prolific Authors index, or use the storysites
www.iomfats.org and www.crvboy.org where they are collected and made
accessible in html by the generosity and skills of the webmasters.

This particular story concerns a marginal character in the previous
stories, Ben Craven.  It chronicles the end of his relationship with Alex
Johnson, and the new start in life which he went on to find.  I've tried to
keep down the cross references to other episodes in the saga, but I hope
you'll tolerate those that do creep in.  I can't easily let old friends go
in life, or in literature.

Here let me record my thanks to my tireless editor Rob, and to my readers,
James, Terry and Eldon.

This story features a few descriptions of sexual acts between young males.
If the reading of such material is illegal in your place of residence, or
if you are under the legal age to read them, you have at least been warned
and should act accordingly.


X

  `You've certainly been busy, Clive.'  Ben was surveying a sheaf of
manuscript chapters.
  Dressner shrugged.  `It's the system I work to; it's nothing if not
productive.'
  Ben and Dressner were working over a table in the committee room of
Wardour Publishing Ltd.  Lunch was going to be at the firm's expense,
brought in by outside caterers.  The CEO would be joining them in an hour.
  Ben lifted his red pen.  `Can we look at this passage where Enderby
cross-examines the character Burbage in the Old Bailey?  Does
cross-examination happen like that in civil trials?'
  `Oh yes, everything is under oath still, and if the prosecution wants to,
it can hammer away at a suspect piece of evidence.'
  Ben looked up.  `I have to say, I do envy the depth of your legal
research.  It's a remarkable feature of your writing.'
  `Thank you.'
  `How did you get to be so knowledgeable without legal training?'
  Dressner gave Ben a cold stare across the table.  `I have a compulsive
streak to my character.  With some people it's train spotting, with others
it's postage stamps.  I became quite fascinated by the legal system as a
boy ... the influence of John Mortimer perhaps.  I used to hang out at the
back of the crown court in Basildon just watching the lawyers and judges in
action.'
  `I'm surprised you didn't become one yourself.'
  `Oh no, I may have been fascinated by the law, but writing and books were
always my first love.'
  They continued on through the chapter.  Eventually Ben shuffled his
papers and smiled.  `This is shaping up to be one of your best yet.'
  `Thank you, Ben.  That means a lot coming from you.  So ... this new
fellow?'
  `Phil.  He lectures in English at Stevenage.  We met online last year,
and have a lot in common.  When things fell apart with Alex, I found him
very sympathetic.  Then when we met ... wow!  He's a dream come true.  Hang
on, I have a picture.'  Ben proudly showed one of his new snaps of Phil ^Ö
one of the decent ones, at least.
  `He is very good looking.  Congratulations, Ben, you deserve the luck.'
  Ben rather fancied that Dressner was not being entirely honest in his
reactions, judging by the immobility of his face.
  `Tell me, would this man's full name be Philip Maddox?'
  `You know him?'
  `I know his book about my writing.  My agent sent me a copy.  It was
disconcerting to read; I felt like a corpse after the pathologist has
finished with it.  Did that comment about my legal research come from him?'
  When Ben stammered, Dressner gave him a tight smile.  `I thought so.
Let's get back to chapter six.'
  During the lunch that followed, Ben retired into his shell in the
presence of the CEO and a director.  He was astonished by the degree of
indiscriminate sucking-up going on around the table.  He knew that Dressner
held the whip hand over Wardour with his share of the airport fiction
market, but the crudity of the executive flattery directed towards the
writer was a remarkable index of quite how much Wardour had invested in
him.
  At one-thirty Dressner made a few mobile calls, and then began his
departure.  As he picked up his thin attaché case, he turned to Ben.  `How
about a quick social drink?'
  Ben hesitated.  `I really have to get back to work.'
  `Oh for heaven's sake, Ben,' the CEO hastened to intervene, `you make us
seem like a pack of slave drivers.  Go and take the rest of the afternoon
off.'
  So Ben followed Dressner down into Long Acre.  `There's a new place
around here, down towards Covent Garden.'  Dressner gave him a glance Ben
thought was a little accusatory.  `My latest call boy was raving about it
last night.'
  Ben shrugged internally.  It wasn't his fault if Dressner had to buy
company in bed.  His heart warmed momentarily as he remembered how he had
woken up that morning, to a pair of smiling eyes and the touch of warm skin
against his own, to a happiness that he had once thought he would never
feel again.
  Dressner led the way into the bar of Orton's, Terry's club.  Ben did not
mention that he knew the owner.  Even though it was a working day, quite a
number of gay couples were around the bar.  Americans and eastern Europeans
were much in evidence.  Dressner and he got beers and took standing places
at a tall table next to a mural rendition of the classic picture of a naked
Joe Orton, posed on a chair.  Dressner looked around with some interest.
  `So, is it the literary resonances of this place that attract?' Ben
asked, a little mischievously for him.
  Dressner relaxed and smiled.  `I'm not that sort of author, the
self-destructive type.  Some are like the paper they write on: they shrivel
and wither as they burn brightly away.  As I think I've said before, I'm an
artisan, not an artist.'
  `Yes, you did say that.  I think you undersold yourself when you did.
You do have a remarkable narrative gift.'
  `I really am nothing special.  I wonder why people make such a fuss.'
  Ben gave him a sideways look.  `You do project an air of mystery.'
  `It's not intentional, believe me.  I just want to keep to myself.'
  Deciding he owed Phil something, Ben was ready to pursue the point now.
`I'm sorry Clive, but I'm not wholly convinced.'
  `Why do you say that?'
  `You give contradictory accounts of yourself.  You told me you were from
a broken home in Basildon.'
  `As indeed I am.'
  `But in an American magazine, just after you made it big, you said you
were from a professional background in north London.'
  Now Dressner was frowning, his focus entirely on Ben.  Finding the
attention uncomfortable, Ben took a long pull of his beer.  The alcohol and
the tension were acting strangely together and he felt light-headed.
  Dressner too seemed to be gathering himself.  `Your boyfriend at work
again, no doubt.  I know what you're referring to.  I realised that
particular misjudgement would come back to haunt me.  But at the time, I so
wanted to be a literary figure and have the right sort of background.  I
take it that Dr Maddox asked you to bring this up?'
  `No he didn't.  It's not important,' Ben replied, but as he did he felt
the room veering a little.
  `Are you alright?' Dressner asked.
  `I feel a little ... anaesthetised.'
  `It's been a long day.  Let me hold you up.'
  Ben sank suddenly on to the shoulder of the taller man, whose arm went
round him.  He was being directed towards the street and seemed unable to
stop himself.  Another man, one of the nearby east Europeans, appeared at
his other shoulder.  He was being more or less carried away.  His eyesight
swam.
  Suddenly the way was blocked.  David Skipper was directly in front of
them.  `Hey Benny!  Are you alright?  You look weird.  Who are these guys?'
  `Outta way,' the foreigner growled at David.  A big black car with the
door open was standing at the kerb, and Ben knew it was waiting for him.
He was powerless and mute.
  David spun away to the side as Dressner shoved him.  Ben heard the shout,
`Terry!'
  An instant later the foreigner was propelled out the door and Ben fell as
Dressner dropped him to the floor.  When the confused skirmish above him
ended, he felt himself hauled upright and held like a rag doll.  Terry's
face was staring into his own.  `Benny babes!  You OK!  Shit.  Who did this
to you?'  Then Ben faded away into a dim and slowly-turning land.

***

  Concerned eyes were peering into Ben's own as his sight returned.  He
seemed unable to speak.  He was on the floor of Terry's bar, looking up at
the ceiling .
  `Easy, easy, Benny,' soothed David.  `The doctor's here.  He's just taken
a blood sample.  You've been drugged.'
  A drawling, familiar voice laughed nearby.  `Meself, I like the phrase
"slipped a mickey".  It has a familiar ring, since I've been slipped one by
so many Michaels.'
  David frowned.  `Terry!  Now's not the time for it.  First cos you'll
shock the doctor ...'
  `Don't mind me,' came a third voice.
  `... and secondly cos Benny's in a state.'
  `Wha ...?'  Ben attempted.  His tongue felt too big for his mouth.
  `We found these guys trying to hustle you into a car.  They put up a
fight when we waded in to stop them, then they took off.  Who were they?'
  Ben croaked, but was unable to answer.
  David continued, `Terry, shouldn't we get the police?'
  The drawling voice answered, `Probably.  But I would like to know a
little more about what was going on first.  How long before Ben can
communicate, Dr Paolocci?'
  `He'll be more in control in ten minutes or so.  It was one of the
date-rape drugs, I think.'
  `You gonna tell the police?'
  `Not unless you want me to, Terry.  You're more or less the police
anyway, now your dad's an assistant chief constable.'
  `Thanks, doc.  Glad you were in the bar his afternoon.  Er ... this isn't
on the National Health Service is it?'
  `No, Terry.  I'll put you down as a private patient for this one.  It'll
speed things up if I put this boy on a drip.  David, you can be the
support, just hold this.  No more elegant post was ever seen.'
  Ben's head began clearing, though his mouth remained dry.  He had enough
control to sit up unaided.  The bar had been cleared and closed.
  Doctor Paolocci smiled at him.  He was in his thirties, well muscled and
in a tee shirt, his head shaved.  The pebble glasses contradicted the
scene-gay style.  `Better?'
  `Yes, thanks.'
  Terry sat next to Ben.  `What wuz going on, Benny?'
  `I was having a drink with Clive Dressner.  The next thing I knew, I came
over all woozy and found myself being hustled out between him and this
other man.  Did I see a car waiting outside?'
  `You did.  The intention wuz clearly to shove you inside it, sweet babe,
and take you off somewhere.  Now why wuz that?
  Ben flushed with anger and humiliation.  `I think that he ... no, he
wanted to have sex with me, and since I wouldn't do it voluntarily, he set
me up to ... to ...'  He found he couldn't say the word.
  David obliged.  `The bastard was going to abduct and rape you?  And he
used our club to set you up?  The fucking arsehole!  I'll kill the fucker
... no, better yet, I'll get my boyfriend to do it!'
  `Clive Dressner, the author?  Bloody hell,' marvelled Dr Paolocci.
  David shook his head.  `The police are not going to believe this.'
  Terry nodded.  `Not without a lot of supporting evidence.  I can see him
arguing that it was all a misunderstanding, and that he wuz helping his
friend Ben Craven into a taxi because he wuz the worse the wear for drink.
Hey Doc!  What about the blood test?  That should show the presence of
illegals.'
  The doctor shrugged.  `Maybe, but if it's ketamine-based, then his
barrister will argue that Ben was taking K as a recreational drug, as
people do.'
  David was disgusted.  `Shit.  So the only way of getting the law on the
guy would be if he had really raped Ben?'
  The doctor shook his head and didn't answer.  Ben struggled to his feet,
helped by Terry, who asked gently, `You OK, sweet babe?'
  `Bit dizzy, actually.  But it's better than sitting.  I need to get back
to work.'
  Terry looked across at the doctor, who shrugged.  `He'll give the
impression he's drunk, with slurring voice and slow movements, but if he
wants to take the risk ...  You go with him, Terry.'
  Terry and Ben walked slowly out through the wide doors and back up to
Long Acre.  No word was spoken until they came to the busy road, where
Terry stopped Ben outside the Wardour offices.  `Look, Bennybabes, I gotta
bad feeling about this Dressner guy.  A man who would attempt to pull that
stunt off is highly dangerous ... a daylight abduction in the heart of
London is recklessness bordering on insanity.  Also, he's got accomplices,
pretty mean ones.  Those guys were familiar too, though I'm not sure why.
I gotta think about this.  I'll ring Andy's people.  Jenna will ratchet up
security at Highgate, and you gotta listen to her, right?'
  `Yeah, fine, Terry.  It's shaken me badly.  I'll be careful.'
  Before leaving, Terry gripped Ben's shoulder and gave him a serious look.
  Ben's mind had been clearing as he walked, and ^Ö though he did not tell
Terry ^Ö he knew what to do.  Rather than going up to his office, he took
the lift down to the basement and went into the windowless coolness of the
empty records room.  He pulled out the boxes of Dressner correspondence.
There were six of them, but he was only interested in the first.  He
riffled back to the beginning, and then stared.  `Nothing ... nothing!' he
murmured to himself.
  He went to the filing cabinet which held the contracts.  He pulled the
Dressner file.  Again he stared bewildered at the earliest folder.  He
slotted them back, and took the lift up to the second floor.
  The CEO was waiting at his empty desk, alongside two security men.  He
frowned at Ben.  `I don't want any fuss, Ben, but you are to go with these
men.'  Faces were craning to see over partitions.  Amanda was looking
shocked.
  `What's the matter?'
  `Your contract has been terminated as of this moment for cause.  A letter
will explain it.  We will pay you two months' salary in lieu of notice, and
you are to leave the premises immediately.  Your personal possessions will
be sent on.'
  `It's Dressner isn't it?'
  `I'm not at liberty to discuss it.  Please leave.'
  Ben shook his head as he found the security guards edging him to the
lift.  There was no choice.  He left the office and found himself on Long
Acre once more, bewildered and unemployed.

***

  All in all, Phil thought, this has gone far better than I had any right
to expect.  He was just tidying his notes ready for a lecture on Scott
Fitzgerald.  The news of his being gay had been rapidly broadcast across
the faculty, not that anyone ever said anything to him directly.  But the
appearance of a framed picture of Ben Craven on his desk did not go
unnoticed, and students in his room for seminars and tutorials eyed it
curiously.
  Much to his surprise, the only person who directly remarked on his change
of life was Max Jamroziak.  He came shyly into Phil's room a couple of days
after the news had got round and asked for some advice.  Ben noticed a
change.  The boy was wearing a rainbow bracelet.
  `Phil ... y'know I had sex with that gay guy?'
  `I remember all too well.  The thought of it gave me a hard-on.'
  Max giggled.  `You're not supposed to say things like that.  Well, point
is, now I know you're gay I can say what I didn't say then.  I really
wanted to do the anal thing ... though not with him.'
  `So you're out too, Max?'
  `Well, sorta.  I don't think I'm exactly straight, maybe mostly not
straight.  I dunno.  But you're a gay guy.  What should I do about coming
out?'
  `You're asking me?  I was jammed in the closet for years.  I'm only now
coming to terms with it.  I have a boyfriend ...'
  `Yeah, he's hot for an old guy.'
  `Gee thanks.  My advice is pretty worthless so far as it goes.  But I'm
glad I did it, whatever.  There're costs to pay, that's only common sense
to acknowledge.  My father has broken off relations with me, and people
look at me oddly.  Then there's the divorce, which goes on and on.  But I
think, if you're honest now, it'll be easier for you in the long term.  Is
there a boyfriend?'
  `Nah ... not that lucky.'
  `Maybe you should go to LGBT Soc.  You'll find friends, I don't doubt,
and maybe one day you'll find more.  God knows you're hot.'
  Max smiled.  `You think so?  As hot as your guy?'
  `In your dreams.  Benny is more than simply hot, he's my man and I love
him.'
  `Wow.  I like that.  Maybe one day someone will say that about me.'
  `I have no doubt about it.  Fancy a coffee?  Let's give people the wrong
idea about us.'
  So Phil and Max headed out of the department and found a table in the
Union café.  As they chatted and laughed, Phil found himself being enticed
into descriptions of his sex life.  He resisted being too graphic, for he
could already see the results in Max's tight jeans.  There was no doubt
they were attracting curious looks from others, yet Phil found he did not
care anymore.
  Mischief danced in Max's eyes as Phil and he got up to leave.  They
air-kissed as they parted, drawing everyone's attention.  Phil winked at a
boy who was staring at him open- mouthed.  The boy blushed scarlet and
glanced away.
  Phil gave his eleven o'clock lecture, followed by his two midday
seminars.  It was as he was working through his e-mail at three that a
series of mobile calls began.
  `Phil Maddox?'
  `Yes?'
  `You don't know me, but you may have heard of me.  My name's Terry
O'Brien.'
  `Oh hi!  You're my Benny's friend.'
  `I am.  Benny and me go way back.  Now listen up.  There's been a serious
problem ^Ö no he's alright, but he very nearly wasn't.'  Terry sketched the
events of that afternoon.
  `Jesus!  And Dressner did it?'
  `Oh yes.  I was there and I saw it.  It was an attempted abduction
alright, and if Benny had been taken, I don't like to think of what the
consequences would have been.'
  `I can't get there for a while ... oh shit!'
  `He is alright, don't worry.  I saw him to his office door.  But I may
send one of my guys round to ferry him safely to Highgate after work.'
  `Dressner!  My God!  He must be insane!'
  `My thoughts exactly, as it happens.  Insane enough to have a crack at
you too, Phil.  So I suggest you keep an eye out for yourself.  Benny said
you and he had been separately on the track of something about Clive
Dressner which was fishy.  I'm wondering if there's something more behind
this than attempted rape.'
  The second call came five minutes later as Phil was still trying to come
to grips with Terry's information.  `Phil, it's me!'
  `Benny!  Are you alright.'
  `Yes ... well, no.  Wardour's fired me!'
  `Just like that?  How?  Why?'
  `I don't know.  They got security to frog-march me off the premises.  It
has to have been pressure from Dressner.'
  `You gotta sue `em!  Sue `em for unfair dismissal!  They can't do that to
you!'
  `They just did.  I'm standing here in Long Acre and I don't know what to
do.'
  `Go home to Highgate, baby.  I'm on my way now.  Benny, I just want to
hold you.'
  `Please hurry.  But drive safely.  I don't want you to have any more
bumps.  Kisses.'
  Phil typed up a note cancelling his four o'clock seminar and pinned it to
his door.  As he was doing so, a voice said behind him.  `I'll have to put
a report in about that.'
  He turned.  `Oh fuck off, Jerry.'
  `You're not allowed to use tacks in wooden doors.  It's vandalism.  The
dean's administrator keeps a log.  You're supposed to use blutack.'
  `You're fucking serious, aren't you.'
  `And that sort of language ain't no example to your students, is it?'
  `Is this the bitterness of spurned love, Jerry boy?'
  The man flushed and squared up to Phil.  `You just watch yer mouth, Dr
Smart Ass!'
  `Or what're you going to do?  Tell `em I'm gay?  They know that,
dickhead.  It's no secret anymore.'
  Jerry seemed about to lash out, but Phil only looked at him curiously,
strangely unmoved by the possibility of an imminent assault.  Once you'd
slept with a man, he concluded to himself, you know whether or not he's
capable of violence, and Jerry was not that sort of man.
  For a moment Jerry appeared undecided.  Then he sagged.
  Phil could not help observing, `You've got to get a life, Jerry.  You
have the look of a man tired of aimlessly cruising lay-bys.'
  Jerry wouldn't meet his eyes.  `Yer gets used to it, sometimes it can
even be great ... you were great, Phil.  Yer spoiled it for me.  Ploughing
yer butt was the best thing I'd done for years.  Can't stop thinking about
it.'
  `There are other butts, many quite as pretty as mine.'
  `Not so's I'd noticed.'
  `Look, I gotta go.  The boyfriend needs me.'
  Jerry looked even unhappier.  `That's not somethink anyone's ever goin'
to say about me, is it?'
  Phil shrugged and moved off down the corridor, saying as he went, `Don't
give up hope, mate.'
  The ground floor corridor of the Arts block ended in double glass doors
that opened on some steps down into the small staff car park.  It was an
area mostly enclosed by windowless walls, its only exit a lane leading on
to the campus ring road.  Phil's little red Clio was parked near the steps.
He opened the rear door and dumped his laptop case.
  As he was going round the car to the driver's side, he became aware of a
dark man in a leather jacket next to him.
  `Hallo, Dr Maddox?'  The accent was east European and the man smelt of
foreign cigarettes
  Phil looked up surprised.  `Yes?'
  The punch in his gut caused him even more surprise, as did the kick
between his legs that landed him on his back between two cars.  Astonishing
agony burst from his crushed testicles.  He screamed briefly until an oily
rag was thrust into his mouth.  The man gripped him by the throat, holding
him down and saying deliberately into his ear as he squirmed in silent
agony, `Now Doctor Maddox.  I'm here to warn you.  Your curiosity about my
client is leading you into dangerous company.  Keep yourself to yourself or
really bad things are going to happen to you, starting now.  You will not
be walking for a while after today and your good looks ... they'll be a
thing of the past.'
  A small knife was hovering at Phil's eye level, and even the agony in his
groin could not stop him going rigid with fear.