When
Hayden becomes aware of the new Lady Astor's
proximity, he drops his gaze from the remote
figure of the estate's young lord and returns
to the task of removing the weeds that have
dared encroach upon the rose bushes along the
south side of the gazebo.
He
stops again when she approaches, and when she
halts at his side he rises to his feet.
Though he faces her, he keeps his eyes
deferentially down.
She
does not address him at first. He remains as
he is, and finally he hears her draw breath
to speak. "He's not for you. You know
that, don't you?"
"Yes,
Ma'am," Hayden says, eyes still averted.
She
snorts indecorously. "Do I look like a
ma'am to you?" Hayden does not reply,
does not raise his eyes to make an
assessment, and so she continues, "You
may call me Lily. Or," she adds without
waiting for response, "if that is too
intimate, Miss. Yes, I think I like that.
'Miss' will do nicely."
He's
aware of her eyes on him, but he does not
raise his own. "Yes, Miss."
"So,"
she resumes, "you know, don't you? That
he's not for you?"
"Yes,
Miss."
"I
could arrange for you to be near him,"
she says.
She
seems to require response, so he says,
"Yes, Miss."
"Do
you know how to drive an automobile?"
"Yes,
Miss."
"Good,"
she says. "Then you'll drive us,
starting tomorrow."
A month
after Hayden assumes his new duties, a friend
of Miss Lily's pays a visit. Master Davis
Astor is engaged in business for the
afternoon, so he has the car sent for with
instructions to take the two ladies on a
countryside drive.
"Hayden,"
Miss Lily says as he opens the door for them,
"this is Miss Darlene Bartlett."
"Hello,
Hayden," Miss Darlene says.
Hayden
tips his cap and offers her a hand as she
steps to seat herself inside.
He is
just turning the car out of the long drive
when Miss Lily says, "Miss Darlene is
really quite beautiful, Hayden, don't you
think?"
Eyes on
the road ahead, Hayden says, "Yes,
Miss."
"Her
hair is quite luxurious, isn't it? Don't you
just want to run your fingers through
it?" Miss Lily asks.
In the
rearview mirror Hayden catches a glimpse of
her fingers running through Miss Darlene's
hair. Finds himself caught in Miss Lily's
gaze, and fixes his own back on asphalt and
gravel and tar.
"And
her mouth - don't you just want to cover it
with your own?"
Hayden
snags on Miss Lily's one-eyed gaze in the
mirror, her other eye hidden by the angle
required to fasten her lips to Miss
Darlene's.
"And
her breasts, Hayden," Miss Lily says
when she breaks for air. "Don't you want
to touch them? In fact," Miss Lily
indulges herself, "don't you want to put
your hands and mouth all over her
flesh?"
Hayden
keeps his eyes on the road, his hands on the
wheel, his mouth closed.
For the
next month, Hayden continues to drive Master
Davis and Miss Lily, sometimes together and
sometimes separately, always without
incident. And then one afternoon, Master
Davis calls for the car. The young lord is
often preoccupied when he takes the car, and
in any event does not engage Hayden in
conversation the way Miss Lily does; he has
not spoken more than a half-dozen words to
Hayden since Hayden began chauffeuring him
(which is, of course, a half-dozen more words
than Hayden had ever expected Master Davis to
direct to him).
This
time, though, when Hayden gets into the
driver seat after putting Master Davis in the
back, Master Davis leans forward.
"My
wife tells me you are a model of discretion,
Hayden."
"Yes,
Sir."
"And
may I count upon you to protect my
indiscretions as well as you protect
hers?"
"Yes,
Sir."
"Very
good," Master Davis says, and though
Hayden does not look in the rearview mirror
as he starts the engine, he can hear the
smile in the pleased tone.
Master
Davis says no more until they are halfway
down the drive, when he gives the order to
halt. "That won't be necessary," he
says when Hayden starts to get out, so Hayden
remains seated in front while the young lord
opens his own door.
In the
periphery of his vision Hayden sees someone
slip out from behind one of the age-old elms
and come toward them. Master Davis lets the
other man climb into the back seat before he
climbs in himself; in the moment that Master
Davis is turned back to the door to pull it
shut, Hayden's eyes stray up to the rearview
mirror - and meet a pair of unexpectedly
familiar eyes in return.
Hayden
looks away first, eyes snapping to his hands
on the steering wheel, then up to the road as
he hears the slam of the backseat door.
The
young man involved in this indiscretion is
another servant in the household. Master
Davis does not ask whether Hayden wishes to
touch Vaughn's hair or mouth or flesh, he
simply does it himself. And Hayden simply
drives on.
Hayden
is awake when the soft knock on his door
comes that night, followed by the soft creak
of the door opening, the softer tread of
familiar feet. Vaughn shuts the door behind
him but stays by it.
Hayden
stays on his side, facing the wall.
"I
had to." Vaughn's voice strains with
whispering. "He's the master of the
house..."
"I
know."
Hayden
rolls onto his back now. Vaughn stays by the
door; Hayden's eyes are adjusted to the dark
enough to see Vaughn's arm curving back
behind him, his hand still on the doorknob.
"Do
you want me to go?" Vaughn asks after
awhile.
"You
can stay," Hayden says, pushing the
covers down, lying back on the mattress,
spreading his legs as Vaughn crawls onto the
bed between them.
It's
only a week before Master Davis asks for
Hayden's discretion again. He has Hayden
drive him to a different spot this afternoon,
and again he gets his own door. Instead of
beckoning to a boy hidden in the trees this
time, Master Davis raps on Hayden's window.
When
Hayden rolls it down, the young lord says,
"Come talk with me."
"Yes,
Sir," Hayden says.
They
walk a little ways, until the trunk of a
fallen tree presents itself. Master Davis
seats himself, and motions for Hayden to do
the same.
Hayden,
as always, has his eyes cast down politely.
He doesn't feel Master Davis's gaze on him,
so he dares a sidelong glance and sees Master
Davis looking off into the distance. He
thinks maybe Master Davis didn't actually
want to talk, but that perhaps "come
talk with me" is a colloquialism amongst
the cultured and well-to-do for not wanting
to be alone. He shifts his own gaze down and
off, sitting quietly, something like
contentment bleeding in at the edges.
Then:
"That boy," Master Davis says,
"the one I had the other week." And
now Hayden feels Master Davis turn to him.
"You knew him, didn't you?"
Hayden
swallows. "Yes, Sir."
"Not
just as one of the household servants. You
knew him."
"Yes,
Sir."
"He's
your lover."
Hayden
doesn't say anything.
"Is
it that I'm wrong?" Master Davis says
after a moment of consideration. "Or do
you object to the classification?" When
Hayden makes no reply, Master Davis
continues, "My wife, who seems rather
oddly fond of you, tells me things about you
sometimes. She tells me that you never say
the word 'no'."
Hayden
remains silent.
"Your
bedmate, then," Master Davis says,
returning to the matter of Vaughn. "Is
that what he is? Your sexual partner?"
"Yes,
Sir," Hayden says. His mouth is dry;
swallowing does not seem to help.
"Do
you love him?"
Even
though he knows it does not help, Hayden
swallows again.
"I
wonder," Master Davis says, "if I
am intruding where I am not welcome, or if
the answer is that you do not love him."
He
expects no reply, and Hayden makes none.
"My
wife tells me that you do not love him,"
Master Davis says then. "She is nearly
always right. She would have me believe that
she is never wrong, but no one can be right
all the time and I am determined to catch
her.
"However,
she tells me you do not love that boy, and I
am inclined to think that in this, she is
right.
"She
tells me," Master Davis goes on in his
casual, conversational tone, "that you
love me."
Hayden's
mouth opens, but only to breathe before
shutting again.
"Hayden,"
Master Davis says, "do you love
me?"
Hayden
closes his eyes. And whispers, "Yes,
Sir."
He
feels Master Davis touching him with more
than his eyes now; he feels Master Davis's
hands on him, feels Master Davis through his
clothing.
"Is
this all right, Hayden?"
"Yes,
Sir."
Hayden's
shirt tugs against his back as Master Davis
manipulates the buttons in front, and now a
light breeze caresses Hayden's skin
indiscriminately, the warmth of the sun plays
across it; Master Davis's fingertips are more
resolute, more heated as they move down and
down. Now and then, Master Davis pauses to
ask if this is all right, and each time
Hayden says, sometimes barely audible,
"Yes, Sir."
When he
reaches the lacings of Hayden's trousers,
Master Davis lets his hand rest. "Shall
I continue," he asks, "or do you
wish me to stop?" Hayden's eyes meet his
fleetingly before sliding off. "Do you
want me to stop?" Master Davis repeats,
teasing his fingers the length of Hayden's
arousal.
White-knuckled,
Hayden scrapes splinters off the log beneath
him, his hands digging into it even as his
hips arch off.
Finally,
Master Davis says, "I need you to say
it, Hayden. I need to know that you are
capable of forming a 'no', so that I can
believe you when you say yes."
Hayden
understands the logic and desire of it, he
does... but after so many years of training
and practice, he can't bring the word out.
Master Davis begins stroking Hayden's cock
through the fabric of his trousers, slowly,
rhythmically, and Hayden can't do anything
but breathe, ragged helpless rhythm. He's
having a hard time breathing, not only
because of his arousal but because the word
is stuck in his throat. For years and years,
he's swallowed the word and said nothing at
all every time he's thought it. Because
that's just how it has to be.
When he
has undone the lacings, Master Davis curls
his fingers around Hayden's arousal and takes
him out. "Do you want me to stop?"
he asks yet again. His fingers pause, hover,
flutter into slight contact, drift into
hovering again.
Hayden
hears the word in his head, but he cannot
feel it on his tongue let alone bring it off.
His tongue licks uselessly at his lips,
unable to soothe the tremors there. Master
Davis's fingers lick along his flesh, only
inciting the tremors there. There are tremors
in his very breath, and Hayden cannot be
soothed.
"Hayden,"
Master Davis breathes, "do you know how
you beautiful you are right now?"
Hayden
swallows and lets his lips part but still no
sound comes out, nothing but breath escapes
even when he slicks the passage with his
tongue. He would look away, but Master Davis
holds him fast in his gaze.
"No."
The word has fallen from Hayden before he
knew it was at the edge. He wants more than
ever to look away now, but Master Davis is
still holding him, looking at him...
Master
Davis's mouth moves in a smile. He moves,
still holding Hayden in his gaze, until his
smile presses to Hayden's silent and still
mouth. The smile opens against him, touches
him, enters him, consumes him and leaves him
whole in its wake.
"Now,"
Master Davis says, taking Hayden in his gaze
anew, looking into his eyes as his fingertips
travel Hayden's body, "do you want this?
Do you want me?"
"Yes,"
Hayden says, returning the gaze;
"yes."
