Date: Sat, 01 May 1999 10:09:52 +0900
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: Star's Shadow 04

----------------------------

THE STAR'S SHADOW
Written by Andrej Koymasky
October 6th 1993
translated by the Author
English text kindly revised
by Hank

-----------------------------

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE STAR'S SHADOW" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic
scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family,
opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to
read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or
because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed
guest.

-----------------------------

04 - ENCOUNTER

Patrick Dupuis arrived at the hotel with his train of assistants which
included the band members and all his personnel. There were twenty-one
people in all . They settled into the second floor which had been
reserved exclusively for them. An excited Jan Luc saw the singer pass in
the corridor. He wore a wide coat and trousers that concealed his shape
and large dark glasses with a white cloth cap pulled down to his
eyebrows. He was surrounded by his collaborators, body guards and
assistants so that Jean Luc could barely catch a glimpse of him.

He got the impression that his idol was tired. He watched him disappear
into the Victor Hugo Suite with a thumping heart. Since the singer would
be at his hotel for eleven days, he thought he would have plenty of
other occasions to see him and possibly even get to talk to him...

The Victor Hugo suite was the finest and largest. It consisted of three
bedrooms, two bathrooms, a wide living room, two lounges and an office.
Besides the two doors of the living room and that of the office, all the
other doors opening on the corridor had been locked. Jean Luc knew that
Patrick would use the last bedroom on the right, the one that was called
"Wisteria." It was the most beautiful, and it was there that the manager
had placed the bouquet, the fruit basket and the chocolates that were
reserved for four stars VIPs. In the nearby room, "The Swans," the
singer's personal assistant would sleep and on the other side of the
suite, near the small office, the manager and the PR man shared the
"Cornflowers" room.

Before the arrival of the guests, Jean Luc had checked that all the
rooms and the bathrooms were in perfect order and spotless at least
three times. He lingered a little longer in the Wisteria room trying to
imagine his idol there ... possibly naked, relaxed on the wide white bed
on the raw silk wisteria bedspread. He wondered if the singer slept in
the nude.

Personnel brought up the trunks of the four people who would occupy the
suite. The other suites and rooms on that floor were used by the rest of
Patrick's staff. The bell in the suite's office rang and Jean Luc
answered it. He knocked on the door and entered.

The distinguished man sitting behind the desk was about forty five years
old. Without looking up he said, "Would it possible to have a carafe of
fresh green apple shake every two hours?"

"Certainly, sir, I will immediately provide for that. Should I have it
brought in here?"

"No, into the lounge, the other one, not this one here. It's for Mister
Dupuis. Fresh, I remind you."

"Certainly, sir, depend on it, sir."

"Also during the night of course -- every two hours. And, of course, the
carafe must be on ice."

"Certainly, sir. Is there something else I can do for you?"

"Not for the moment. You are the waiter on this floor?"

"Yes, sir, for one shift. There are three waiters, eight hours each."

"What time is your shift?"

"From 5 p.m. to 1 a.m., sir."

"What's your name? Your first name."

"Jean Luc, sir."

The man wrote down it and then asked: "And the two others?"

"From 1 a.m. to 9 a.m. there will be Vincent and from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.
it will be Robert, sir."

The man also wrote down those two names. "Good, Jean Luc. Of course I
expect that nobody will enter this suite if it is not on my personal
order, besides you three when you are called and when you have to change
the carafe every two hours. Nobody, is that clear? Not even other hotel
personnel."

"Possibly it will be better if you personally warn the manager..."

"Of course."

"And... sorry, sir, but what of the personnel who clean the rooms?"

"Only if none of us is here and then under the supervision of one of you
three."

"Very well, sir. Is supper all right for 8 p.m.?"

"Yes, assuredly. You personally will bring it to the living, you alone."

"Very well, sir."

"You can leave, now. Bring the shake as soon as possible. Fresh, I again
remind you."

"Without doubt, sir. With your permission, sir." Jean Luc said and went
immediately to order the apple shake.

When the waiter came with the trolley, Jean Luc had him wait in the
corridor while he took the trolley into the green lounge. Behind that
door, he thought with excitement, was Patrick! Maybe he was resting...
He set the crystal bucket full of ice cubes on the low table,
straightened the carafe with the shake in it and went out with the
trolley which he returned to the other waiter.

He said to him, "Another carafe and new ice at 7:30, please."

"Sure, Jean Luc."

Five minutes before 8 p.m. the trolleys with supper arrived. The rest of
Patrick's crew was going to eat in the restaurant. Jean Luc brought the
trolleys into the living room, where he had previously prepared the
table. A man little more than thirty years old entered the living room.

Jean Luc, full of hope, asked him: "Do I serve at the table, sir?"

"No, we'll do it ourselves. You can go now."

"Yes, sir."

Jean Luc had hoped for an affirmative answer so he could have seen his
idol close up. In fact Jean Luc hadn't see him since Patrick first
entered the suite, but he resigned himself -- he would have other
occasions in the next eleven days.

Every two hours he entered the green lounge to change the ice and
replace the fresh apple shake. Usually only a very little shake was
consumed.

Two days elapsed and Jean Luc continued to see the singer only when he
entered or left the suite and then he was always surrounded by his men.
The second evening, around 10 p.m., one of the three men who lived in
the suite with Patrick brought in a young man who was about 20 years
old.

The man led the boy into the suite and a short while later came out and
approached Jean Luc, "That young man I took inside before will come back
here often about this time. When he comes, he may enter."

"Certainly, sir." Jean Luc answered.

The young man come out around midnight.

He too approached Jean Luc, "Tomorrow night I'll be here around 11. Did
they tell you I may go in?"

"Yes, sir, you may enter."

"Will it always be you on duty at that time?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, so there will be no problem." the boy replied and left.

Jean Luc watched him leave. He was well dressed and elegant. He appeared
to be either a photographer's or a fashion model. Who knows who was he?
What was he doing in there, at that time every evening? He didn't carry
a bag or anything. He was too young to be a technician or even a doctor
or a... what? Possibly he was a masseur, but he should have carried a
bag with lotions and creams. Other guests asked for the services of a
masseur or of a masseuse... possibly to fuck. But they always arrived
with their tool case, at least to keep appearances up. And then, that
boy was dressed much too elegantly. He seemed more of a play boy than a
professional. Could he simply be a friend or a relative of the singer?
But why would he always come so late? Jean Luc was curious. He didn't
guess that boy was really a professional and that he had on his person
all the "tools" he needed to carry out his work. He was in fact one of
the boys from the "Rent a Boy" agency. Jean Luc didn't know that such a
service even existed in Paris.

On the fourth evening after the boy left about 11:30, Jean Luc entered
the green lounge to change the carafe. He was setting it when he noticed
the door to the Wisteria room was half opened. A soft light and the
muffled sound of classical music came from inside. With his heart
beating in his mouth, Jean Luc went to the door and glanced inside. He
had a glimpse of the wide bed, and a naked, still leg. He peeped in a
little further and his mouth remained opened -- Patrick was lying on the
bed, completely naked and asleep.

"God, isn't he beautiful!" the boy thought while he admired him from
head to toe. His eyes went back to the center of the singer's body. A
beautiful member, soft but of good size, lay on his belly pointing
towards the navel. The beautiful firm testicles hung in their sack
between slightly spread thighs. The body was beautifully proportioned
and completely hairless, except for the legs which were covered by a
light down from the knees to the ankles.

Completely fascinated, Jean Luc took two steps towards the bed without
even being aware of it. "God, what a desire I have to touch him!" he
thought as he felt the blood pulsating in his temples. The bed sheet had
slipped and lay crumpled on the floor.. Jean Luc thought that it would
be better if he covered that marvelous body... He wished he could have
covered it with kisses, but as he bent and picked up the sheet to spread
it he found he didn't have the desire to cover the beautiful body, not
yet anyway. The vision in front of his eyes was superior to his greatest
expectations, beyond any of his hopes or fantasies. Ahh, just having the
chance to be able to admire his idol completely naked! He was so
beautiful! His heart thundered violently in his chest, and he felt a
warm sensation flashing over his entire body. An erection now was
stretching the fitted trousers of his uniform. He stayed very still with
the sheet spread between his hands. He made one more step forward until
he almost touched the bed. Patrick's head was snuggled in the cushions
with his gentle face slightly contracted with a not so completely serene
expression... and these lips... they seemed to be just waiting for a
kiss...

He had just about made up his mind to cover his idol's body with the
sheet, when a strong hand clasped his arm pulling him away from the bed.
Jean Luc gave a start and let the sheet fall to the floor, and turned
around. One of the men was holding him firmly and looking into his eyes
with a menacing look.

With a low, but hard voice, he asked Jean Luc, "What are you doing
here?"

"I was covering him with the bed sheet..."

"Or were you pulling it off? I covered him only a few minutes ago."

"No, sir. It must have slipped down..." Jean Luc answered, with a slight
tremble

"You were not supposed to enter this room!"

"I know, sir. I brought in the shake... the door was open..." the boy
explained.

The firm grasp of the man didn't loosen. The other two men entered the
room.

"What's happening, Jules?"

"Nothing, Pierre. This waiter entered and I just caught him..."

They were talking in low voice and now Jean Luc was held by one arm by
the man called Jules and on the other arm by Charles, while Pierre was
asking him questions with in a clearly irritated voice. Suddenly
Patrick, half rising from the bed, murmured: "Let me go... let me go...
I don't want..."

Pierre turned toward the singer and with a persuasive tone said as if he
was talking to a child, "Nobody is touching you, Patrick. Sleep, now, be
quiet. Nothing is happening..."

The singer had his eyes wide open and was looking at Jean Luc. He
murmured with an urgent tone, "Run away Patrick, don't let them take
you... Let him... go, Patrick!" and fell down again on his bed.

Pierre, annoyed, asked Jules: "Haven't you prepared an injection for
him?"

"Yes, most assuredly..."

"Well, let's go into the other room, we are disturbing him here." They
almost dragged Jean Luc into the living room.

Pierre started to say him in an irritated tone, "I thought I made it
quite clear no stranger was to enter that room. That meant you too! All
you had to do was to change the carafe and leave."

"I apologize, sir, you are perfectly right. Only, the door was open and
Mister Dupuis was uncovered, therefore..."

Claude interrupted them: "Turn around, boy..."

An amazed and worried Jean Luc looked at him and asked: "Turn around? I
don't understand..."

"Yes, show yourself."

The boy obeyed without understanding. What did they want of him now?

"Yes, very good ... undress, now."

"Bur... sir! I don't..."

"Listen, boy, either you do as I ask, or we will have to complain to the
manager about what you did and ask for you to be dismissed!" Claude
answered with hardness.

Pierre, also not understanding, asked him: "What do you have in mind,
Claude? Why does the boy have to undress?"

While the waiter was starting to unbutton his jacket with a slight
tremble, Claude answered, somewhat excitedly, "Patrick...he gave me the
idea."

"What? When? What idea?"

"Just before. He said, 'Let ME go'. Don't you see? Patrick is right.
This boy is practically his perfect double."

Jean Luc stopped undressing and looked at the man in amazement.

"Undress, quickly!" Claude ordered again.

"But Patrick is dark brown and curly, and this boy is light brown and
straight and his eye color, and his nose..." Jules protested.

"Jules, those are details that can be corrected. Look at the shape of
his face, his lips and his chin. Even the shape of his ears... and also
his body shape..."

"But even if he was the perfect double..."

Jean Luc listened in confusion. He resembled Patrick? He never thought
so, and nobody had ever commented about such a resemblance... Now he was
bare chested.

"Pull out everything, boy!" Claude, visibly excited by his idea said to
him. Then he said to the other, "Just think! What is our problem?
Patrick is perfect on stage, but off it he is in complete panic with the
reporters, at official lunches and with his fans. Don't you see why it
would be a good idea to have a double?"

Jean Luc, now just in his briefs, was dizzy just listening.

"Everything, boy, everything!" Claude insisted.

Jean Luc blushed, but complied.

"Yes... he has just to lose a little weight, do some exercise..."

"And dye his hair and have a perm..."

"And colored contact lenses..."

"But his nose?"

"Plastic surgery."

Jean Luc interrupted them with an hesitant voice: "But I... I..."

"Sit down there and let's talk." Pierre said.

They talked. Pierre proposed drafting a contract. Jean Luc was to allow
them to transform him into a perfect copy of the singer and learn to
move and talk as Patrick did, and be instructed by the three men as a
substitute for the singer at parties, interviews and appearances outside
of the shows. He would receive a very good wage, but in exchange he had
to always live in Patrick's shadow. Nobody, not even his best friends or
family, must have the slightest idea of his new job. He had to literally
disappear. They refined some of the definitive details of the contract's
content while Pierre took notes.

Jean Luc was dizzy in the beginning. The simple fact of being there
naked with three decided men made him feel inferior, defenseless and
unarmed. But in the end he accepted. Not only for the money (which was a
lot), nor because of the pressure and hinted threats, but because he
could live in close contact to his idol!

"You of course, have to renounce your personal life -- at least while
Patrick remains a star, which will be for many more years. But, in the
end, you will be really rich. Your salary will be deposited in a bank in
a tied-up deposit account. You can have all your money only when we will
both agree to solve the contract that I will prepare tomorrow. Of
course, if you betray this secret, you will lose all the money, is that
clear?"

"Yes, but... will Mister Dupuis agree? Will he want me as his double?"

"Certainly. Patrick will do all we tell him to do. He will do this this
even more willingly because you will relieve him from the public
appearances which throw him into panic."

"I see. Can I... can I get dressed now?"

"Yes, sure. First of all, you will sign a paper now where you swear
yourself to complete secrecy and tomorrow you will resign your job here
at the hotel."

"Yes, but.. I have to give the required notice..."

"No. Without giving notice you will lose severance pay, but that will
not be a problem to you as we will give you that money also. You will
have all you need. Just tell them you got a lot better job... I don't
know... in Australia... or some place else that is far away. Tell them
you have to leave at once and that you still haven't gotten your new
address. Give the exact same story to everybody both here at work and to
your friends... Do you think you will have any problems with your
family?"

"No, I don't think so... but it would probably be better if I made a
telephone call from time to time to them so as not to worry them,
but..."

"It can be done. Come into the office now so we can immediately start
deciding on some points to put in black and white. Come," Pierre said.

Jean Luc still felt dizzy, but he also felt excited.

Feverish days followed. He resigned from the hotel. He went to say good
bye to Houari and he phoned home He prepared his luggage and left his
small underground room. Charles took him to a private clinic on the
outskirts of Paris where they modified his nose. While it was healing he
started on a special diet and spent hours in the gym training. He had
been entrusted to Olivier, a 29 year old man who was Claude's assistant.
Jean Luc learned to speak with the same intonation and accent Patrick's
speech had with the help of a diction teacher,. Their voices weren't
really the same, but normally people notice the accent and the
intonation more rather than the timbre and tone of a voice. During his
training which lasted for more than two months, Jean Luc was taken to
live in Patrick's villa in Corsica. At the end of July they applied the
colored contact lenses, his hair and eyebrows were dyed and his hair
curled and waved in the same style as Patrick's. The transformation was
unbelievable! Jean Luc was fascinated by it - he looked in the mirror
and saw Patrick instead of himself!

During those two months Jean Luc never saw Patrick who was on tour. At
the end of July he was informed that Patrick was coming home. Jean Luc
was very excited.

"Olivier?"

"Talk to me."

"How will Patrick react?"

"Well. He has been kept informed of your progress and he wants to meet
you."

"Was his reaction favorable, when they told him?"

"Yes, he it was. He seemed amused according to what Charles says. Most
of all, he seems relieved with the idea that he would only have to write
and sing his songs to the public."

"But we are never to be seen together."

"Certainly not, but it will be easy, you'll see. One of you will always
be in disguise when with the other. And you'll exchange disguise as
needed. When we go to the theater, you will arrive as Patrick. You will
give autographs, have pictures taken and such. He will arrive in a wig
and make up so nobody will recognize him and will go to the dressing
room. You will meet him there. He will perform and then, back in his
dressing room, he will leave in his disguise and we take him to the
hotel. You will go out as Patrick to face the crowd and the
reporters..."

"But, what if somebody wants to come to the dressing room?"

"Pierre thought about that possibility. Patrick always has a double room
dressing room, as many of the great stars do, and the exchange will
happen in the most private one where only we few can enter. All problems
have been foreseen. There will be no problems, you can be sure of that."

"How many people are aware of this exchange?"

"We are just eight, ten with Patrick and you, and, all are trustworthy:
myself, Claude, Pierre, Jules, the make-up artist, the personal waiter
and two body guards. Not even Jules's and Pierre's wives know. Nor do
the personnel here at the villa."

"But... they saw me..."

"Very little, and before your final transformation. That's why we did it
just now. Yours will be somewhat the life of a prisoner from now on."

"Also, Patrick's life it seems."

"He is used to it."

"Poor Patrick."

"He is used to it, and besides, he's too scared by people not to be
happy with his secluded life."

"But how did it happen? He always seems so self confident, so..."

"Little by little. He was self confident before becoming successful.
Now, he only operates thanks to uppers and tranquilizers. Your presence
will relieve him, I think. You will have to spend a lot of time
together. It would be useful for you to imitate him better, even though
you are quite good now. Try to make him like you as it will be easier
for both of you. Well, let's go to the gym for your exercises. Come on."

Patrick arrived. When they were face to face, the singer looked at him
for a long while. Jean Luc felt as if he was trembling all over.

"Hi, Shadow! Your name is Jean Luc, right?"

"Yes..."

"You really are a perfect copy. Jean Luc/Patrick. And I can be
Patrick/Jean Luc... and relax. Hey, Shadow, how do you feel being me?"

"It seems like a dream to me. I have been your admirer for ever and...
all this is extraordinary, incredible... sir!"

"Don't call me sir, Shadow. I never call myself 'sir'. How old are you?"

"23, almost 24..."

"Two years less than me. But of course it doesn't show. Do you think
from now on we will share everything? Diet, clothes, room, fame...?"

"The fame will always be yours, all yours. You are the singer, I am
just... your shadow, as you say."

Patrick nodded in agreement, drew closer to him and held his hand:
"Happy to met... me." he said with a tired smile. Then thoughtfully,
added: "I hope it will work out between us as we will be glued to each
other. Almost always."

With Patrick's determined, warm, strong handshake, Jean Luc quivered
with pleasure and he returned the handshake with the same strength and
warmth.

That night they went to bed. Jean Luc's small room was connected to
Patrick's room as Patrick wanted it that way.

"Leave the door open, tonight, Shadow."

"Yes, if you want."

"Before I take my sleeping pill, come in here to chat a while with me."

"Willingly."

Patrick was laying on his wide bed with just his bare arms and shoulders
outside of the sheet. He waved to the boy to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Do you always take a pill in order to sleep?" Jean Luc asked.

"No. When I am under stress they give me an injection."

"Can't you avoid taking it?"

"No. I would have horrible nightmares... Do you know everything about
me?"

"They made me read and read again all your biographies. I am learning
them by heart. You know, for the interviews..."

"Certainly, but that is just one part of my life... the part that can
and must be known. Did they tell you, for instance, that I am gay?"

Jean Luc widened his eyes: "No... really not..."

Patrick had a bitter smile: "But I am, even though it has to remain a
secret. Anyway, don't worry, you do not have to take my place when I
fuck with a boy, I can do it by myself, and, I will not try it with you.
It would seem as if I were fucking myself..."

Jean Luc smiled. He was about to tell him that he was gay too, but he
thought the right moment would come. Instead he asked, "Do you have a
boyfriend?"

"One? No, one thousand! They procure boys for me. In a short while one
will come here to the villa -- always from the same agency, by now they
know my tastes.."

"That is... for money?"

"Certainly."

"And always the same boy?"

"No, I don't think so... I don't know, really... I don't care. It is for
enjoyment, anyway... But, I still don't know anything about you..."

"It doesn't matter, I am just your shadow, right?"

"Right. Do you like my songs?"

"Incredibly! I know all of them by heart, really all of them."

"Ah, and do you sing?"

"No, absolutely not!"

Patrick had half a smile: "Happily so, or they would throw me away and
make you sing in my place!"

"No, you are irreplaceable."

"Right, with my work I maintain tents of people."

"Me too, now."

"Well, that's just logical - you are my shadow, aren't you?"

Jean Luc nodded at him showing a smile.

The singer asked him, "Does it annoy you when I call you Shadow?"

"No, I am one."

"But you are Jean Luc, in spite of it all."

"Surely, but before my only qualification was 'hotel waiter', and now it
is... Patrick Dupuis' shadow."

"Which one do you like best?"

"This one. Isn't it evident?"

"We will have a difficult life. All of my life has been difficult from
about six years ago up to now. No, it is not difficult, it is horrible."

"Why horrible? You are rich, admired and you sing splendid songs..."

"I sing. It is the only one thing which allows me to keep on living.
But, all the rest... you will see. When they will try to touch you, to
phagocyte you... is horrible. And, the reporters... worse than the Holy
Inquisition. They dissect you. They strip you and expose you... like a
hindquarter of beef hanging in a butcher's shop..."

"My God, it seems really horrible as you depict it!"

"No, it is even worse. All those hands, those hysterical faces shouting
your name! Hands that tear your clothes from you, that touch you... that
overbearingly rummage over you... I have to wear a shell like dancers to
protect my cock and balls! They always try, especially the girls. And,
they grab as if they want to tear it away. The shell protects me
somewhat, but I can feel it and I am terrorized... You will see. It will
be an obscene experience... obscene..."

"Don't think about that now, Patrick, I was hired for that wasn't I? It
will be me from now on in that situation. At least you can rest without
worrying any more..."

"My poor Shadow... We will talk again about that after my next concert.
Do you want to go to sleep, now? I will take my pill."

"As you like. But I can stay here a little more, I don't feel sleepy."

"Thank you. That would please me."

"Try not to take the pill, this time."

"If I can fall asleep... Without the pill, you probably will hear me
shouting..."

"I'll come here, in that case. And you can take it later, in case..."

"I'm scared, you know?"

"No, Patrick. Do you remember your song - Lonely boy, don't be afraid,
you see, I'm holding out my hand for you..."

"Yes. That's what I would have liked someone to tell me, several times.
But nobody said that to me."

"But you are surrounded by people protecting you. You are not alone..."

"No. They merely want to make sure I perform properly, in one way or
another. You..."

"Me?"

"Nothing. Now I'll try to sleep. I'm tired... so tired..." Patrick said
as he closed his eyes.

Jean Luc remained seated on the bed edge and looked at him. The thought
of that fragile lonely, scared boy, filled him with great tenderness.
How different he was from the illustrated magazines' Patrick. He would
have liked to hug him and to cuddle with him, but he understood that the
singer was afraid of such a physical contact. He was living life as it
were an aggression. Still, with the rent-a-boys he had to have physical
contact... What a great mystery a human being is, he thought.

He was about to stand up and go back to his room, when Patrick opened
his eyes and said, "Give me my pill, there, on the night stand. I'm too
afraid to fall asleep without it..."

Jean Luc handed it to him with a glass of water. Patrick took it and
then handed him back the empty glass. "A sleep without dreams... Yes,
they made you identical to me, Shadow, but you are different from me, I
can read that in your eyes. You do exist... I am just a voice that
sings... perhaps it's me who is your shadow..."

Jean Luc watched him doze off. He brushed his chest with a very light
caress and stood up and went to his own bed.

-----------------------------

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 5

-----------------------------

In my home page I've put some of my stories. If someone wants to read
them, the URL is

http://www.geocities.com/~andrejkoymasky/

If you want to send me feed-back, please e-mail at

andrejkoymasky@geocities.com

---------------------------