Date: Tue, 15 May 2007 15:37:09 +0800
From: J.D. Carson <dear.carson@gmail.com>
Subject: The One With Submission and Need: Chapter Four

Two months pass and I finally bring myself to leave the house for a night
out. Of course I had told no one about what had happened. I myself was
unsure about whatever had happened. And the bottom line is that I just
couldn't bring myself to even... think about what I would say. See, I
have a few close friends... some of them are gay too and know that I
am... But I don't think it's even occurred to them... about the kind of
fantasies I have, the kind of fucking I get off on... being made to
grovel and beg. Illyas found me out on the first night we met, and he'd
been the only one who knew before that morning with Marc, Anton, and
Brandon. There was a guy in college who knew too... but that was a long
time ago and I doubt he'd remember or want to. I was in a private college
for boys back home in Ottawa... a lot of 'gay' things happened there...
all of which no one talked about ever again once we stepped off campus.
Most of those guys are married now, with families... Sometimes I wish I
were like one of them, that I could just walk out on all of this, leave
it behind me as I go about a 'regular' life. Instead, I'm trying to
figure out which tie will impress my 'date', whom I know won't fuck me
the way I need to be fucked... But I'm just hoping for something a little
more steady now. Something simple and... healthy, I guess. Illyas gave me
what I wanted, but I'm petrified of what I want.

             Dennis had introduced me to Jake on the set of a movie they
did together. Jake knew almost immediately that I was gay... Sometimes
people just know. It had been a while back, but Jake's been asking me out
to the clubs with him for some time now... and I figured it might be a
good idea. He is into the same 'kind' of men I am so weak for, and his
youthful enthusiasm seemed rather refreshing. For two months I had been
cooped up in my house feeling jaded about it all, so it seemed somewhat
apt to spend some time with the 'younger' crowd; maybe live vicariously
through their eagerness and unabashed sexuality. (Plus, Jake's a very
'straight' guy and it works out with the press to be seen^×even at a gay
club^×with the Hollywood 'liberal' crowd.)

             We met at a nice newly-opened club that had a large lounge
area where a number of celebrity 'liberals' often chill out. Jake looked
sharp in his t-shirt and blazer combo, baseball cap slightly slanted on
his head. His stubble was really filling out and it gave him a quality
that I found tremendously sexy. But I tried to play it cool. Over drinks,
Jake made it clear how his rather infectious brand of reckless sexual
confidence came to be. He was 'new' to the 'scene', just an experimental
kid who has the occasional tendency of checking out other guys and
surfing gay porn. He never had to pretend to like girls^×he really did
like them, and quite a bit, I may add. Never had he been through a day of
high school worrying what would happen to him if anyone found out that he
lingered in the boys' locker room slightly longer than was needed; or
that he kept a used pair of a jock's jockstrap under his bed... No, Jake
was nice and well-adjusted. He had just done a film that made him realize
how much his 'tendency' could be pursued; so he wanted to try something
different, something new... And no, he had yet to "do anything with a
dude."

             Jake was a good drinker and within two hours of us being
there we hadn't stopped the liquor flowing. Jake was a smooth talker too,
but respectful... He seemed very conscious of my boundaries and was
careful not to over-step with the questions. Mainly, we talked about him
and our upcoming work. It was comfortable. I enjoyed his presence and
laid-back character. The fact he was such yummy eye-candy didn't hurt the
situation either.

            "Hey, I almost forgot, dude. There's someone I want you to
meet. He's a good friend of mine... We just met in Hong Kong while Ang
was introducing me to this awesome art-house type director^×you ever seen
anything by Wong Kar Wai?"

             "I've seen a handful of his work. I liked it quite a bit."

             "Well this actor who's in a lot of his films... Well he'll
be here in a bit, so I'll save the introductions for then."

             Hearing this, I must say I was a little disappointed. I had
flattered myself into believing that Jake had been making subtle moves on
me all evening, and this was definitely an illusion dampened by the fact
that our meeting wasn't meant to be just between the two of us. I mean,
Jake really isn't my 'type' and all, but... I think I'm just holding on
to anything to keep me going right now. I still can't get Brandon out of
my thoughts, which is definitely strange, and after two months of trying
to figure out what it was I felt with Brandon, and what it meant, and if
he had... participated in whatever had happened that morning at Illyas'
place... Well let's say two months of brooding, chain-smoking, and
binging on un-prescribed meds just have me wanting a good break. Maybe
even a hot distraction, and Jake definitely fit the bill on that account.

             When Tony Leung walked up to our table awhile later though,
I was caught off-guard. I had seen Happy Together (the Asian cinema
Brokeback Mountain) of course, and without doubt had developed a tiny
crush on one of its male leads. I mean, who wouldn't? And In the Mood for
Love?! Christ... And the man was more adorable in person. His eyes and
expression seemed to be perpetually intense, and he has this reticence
and old-school gentlemanly charm... even off-screen.

             "Tony, this is Matt Perry. Matt^×Tony Leung," Jake
introduced us and my hand extended towards him just as my dick stirred to
extend itself.

            'Fag hospitality,' I wanted to quip, but remembered my
circumstances. It's always uncomfortably strange to meet with a fellow
actor and having to pretend not to be star-struck. It's even worse when
you've spent hours watching the actor's film performances with your hand
down the front of your pants... then finding that he's even more of a
turn on when you're face to face.

             "I'm a fan of yours, actually," I managed to say, noticing
immediately his firmly held grip on our handshake and our fixed eye
contact.

             Tony smiled, graciously bowing his head a little. In a
moment of my guard being let down though, I bit my lower lip, revealing
to the table my now-obvious attraction. The sudden silence between the
three of us in contrast with the chatter of the rest of the bar snapped
me out of it, and I quickly withdrew my hand and searched for something
funny to say. Of course, 'fag hospitality' was the first thing to
resurface in my head, so I said nothing.

             "So what would ya' like to get started on?" Jake asked Tony,
flashing me a quick glance and fighting back a mischievous grin.

             Tony elegantly fought back his own smile, and it seemed to
ease the tension to find that Tony was still looking at me with a smile
in his eyes.

             "How about a fresh round of whatever you were both
drinking... I'm sorry that I'm late," he said, his voice resounding with
a timbre that I cannot find words to describe. And it was a curious
delight to hear him speak in English... I think it made me blush all the
more.

             "Jake, put it on my card... I'm just going to... use the
men's room real quick... Excuse me..." Getting off my seat, I started
hearing the waltz theme (from In the Mood for Love) play in my head as I
maneuvered my body around Tony's to make my way to the restroom.



            Splashing water on my face, I chuckled to myself at my absurd
behavior. My dick had already stirred and I blamed the evening's
uncontrollable weaknesses on the fact that the last time I was fucked I
couldn't even remember what had happened. That rationale made Illyas
enter my mind, but instead of the anger and hurt that in the last two
months had accompanied his memory, I found myself getting turned on. I
then recalled what Illyas had said to me that morning on his driveway...
he had told me that after he and his friends had had their way with me,
I'd return the next day begging for more. Well I hadn't returned the next
day. But it wasn't because I didn't want to. I was just too ashamed. I
didn't know how to face him after what he had done, without proving how
big of a cockslut I really am. And it bothered me deeply that I had no
idea what they had done, what I was made to do for them and their
amusement. Had I been conscious? Did I come to from my passing out to
crawl between Anton's legs, proceeding then to fucking my face on his
rock hard cock? In my drunken sex-crazed stupor, did I say things I dare
not even think about? Did I scream out shamelessly when Marc shoved bead
after bead of Illya's toy collection into my asshole, not asking him to
stop when I felt myself tear? Did I scream for more? And perhaps most
importantly, did Brandon watch with his sweet cocky smile? Did he take a
turn riding my ass while I was on all fours and plastered with their
sweat and cum? Or was that not his style? Did he just spread my asscheeks
wide apart for Illyas to watch my hole pucker and bleeding, drooling out
thick white dribbles of their cum?

             All the grime of cum and sweat and spit and cigarette ash
that I had to wash off my skin the next morning... was some of it
Brandon's? Did he laugh at me with them? Did he sit on the sofa,
occasionally extending his leg to prod at my ass or abdomen, or back,
while Anton and Marc fucked me the way they were fucking him when I first
entered the room? Or was he too busy claiming his goddamn prize?
Completely oblivious to my screams and gagging and begging because he had
his tongue plunged into Illyas, rimming our mutual god while Illyas
spanked his dildo-filled ass red and raw?


            I splash more water on my face, sighed and ignored my
reflection in the mirror as I made my way out to the front patio of the
place. Pulling my blazer closer around me, I stepped onto the sidewalk,
tapping a cigarette out of its pack. Before I could reach for my lighter
though, a match was struck beside me and a flame brought to my face. It
was Tony. I leaned forward and accepted the gesture.

             "Thanks... What you doing out here?" I asked.

             "Trying to quit," he smiled, striking another match and
lighting his own cigarette.

             (Okay, here I have to say that you wouldn't understand what
I mean about how seductive it is to watch this man smoke, unless you've
seen him in a Wong Kar Wai film. Tony having a cigarette in them is an
entire cinematic device and experience on its own, the sequences shot as
if Kar Wai too has his own secret sexual fascination and frustration.
Watching Tony smoke was like having a love affair with a stranger and
from a distance. The lights from the club dimming, with only the
streetlight spotlighting him and his silhouette...)

             "Are you alright?" Tony asked, snapping me out of my
revelry.

              "Hmm?"

             It took me a moment before realizing that I had been
staring. So I smiled, trying to match his reserved politeness, quickly
flicking the long pipe of ash off the end of my cigarette and trying even
harder to keep my eyes off his lips as they wrapped around the butt of
his cigarette. But I couldn't help myself. I looked up at him, my eyes
rushing to take in as much of his profile, his complexion, his delicate
charm... while trying to think of something to talk about, an excuse to
read his lips.

             "How long will you be in town for?" It was the first
question that came into my head, and right after I said it I cursed
myself, paranoid-ly worried if it gave away more of my interest in him.

             "Not very long, I think. I'm not working on any projects
back in Hong Kong, so I'm on vacation. My wife has family here."

            A part of my heart sank at the mention of his wife, and it
must've shown quite hurtfully on my face because his expression
responsively changed.

             He furrowed his brows and tried to redeem himself, "Well, I
mean... By my wife, I mean..."

             He paused. Then looked down and smiled somewhat bashfully,
and I think I finally let the message sink in. My expression must have
changed again, with this slow realization, because he quietly added:

             "Actually... it has never occurred to me to quit smoking."

              We both looked at each other and smiled. I think it was in
part relief and in part a little more than hopeful, regarding where the
night may end. We had been looking at each other only a moment before we
both simultaneously looked back down at our feet^×which only made us
smile and chuckle to ourselves some more.

             "I'm sorry; I'm not very good at this," I say under my
breath.

             "Me neither."

             Again, we look up at each other, trying to read the other's
face and eyes.

             "Can I stay at your house tonight?"

             For a moment I snapped out of my Wong Kar Wai fantasies and
its intense seductions. My head spun a bit as it came back down to earth.
It was too fast. I wasn't used to being the one who decided, the one in
control. I wasn't even sure if this man was... what I needed in my
bedroom... or in my ass. He was soft-spoken and too... kindly... He was
what I wanted to imagine myself with in a relationship... but sexually...
I wasn't sure. And that night I needed someone sexually, or at least my
house to myself so I can...

             "It's not a big deal. Jake is actually putting me up, but...
I was... hoping for your company," he added, flicking his cigarette butt
to a side and taking out another.

             At this point I wanted to grab out my lighter, extend him
the same courteous gesture he had extended me, but at the same time I was
dying to see him light his cigarette again on his own. The way he uses
matches... the striking of the matchbox, the calm manner in which he
brought the flame to his face with one hand shielding the flame... the
flick of his wrist to kill the flame on the match... It was really hot to
watch.

             "Uh... Well..." I tried to stop repeating his
cigarette-lighting sequence over and over again in my head.

              Tony raised and furrowed his eyebrows. It was a classic
move, and yes, I was so pathetically star-struck. Tony has been called
the Clark Gable of Asian cinema, and I definitely could appreciate the
comparison, watching his subtle gestures, subtle changes in expression...

             "Sure. Yes. Please... I mean... Company would be nice. Your
company, I mean... Okay, I... I don't know what I'm saying..." I was
stuttering like a fool.

             He smiled wide and nodded, then glanced around us. Taking a
step closer and with his head lowered and surrounded by a cloud of smoke,
he said:

            "I'm not very good with words when it comes to feelings. But
I would like to please you tonight. Is there... somewhere where... we can
be alone?"

             The way he kept his gaze lowered... I couldn't tell if he
was like me or just... so classically polite. Whatever it was, it felt
like his proposition didn't come easily from him. Besides... as much as I
was hesitant, there was something about this man that put butterflies in
my gut.

             "Of course... I mean..." I took a deep breath. Tony passed
me his lit cigarette and I smiled gratefully, taking it and taking a long
drag. I dropped my voice. "I would like to please you too..."

             We looked up at each other for a long moment, his expression
calm and quite unreadable to me... while I think my expression betrayed
my yearning and confusion. Reaching out, he retrieved his cigarette from
my slightly trembling hand, brushing his fingers lightly over mine. He
took a last long drag, flicked the butt into a planter, and put a hand on
my shoulder leading me back into the lounge.