- Our airplane is passing the turbulence zone, please remain in your seats, - female voice in loudspeakers announced.
- Martin, wake up! - Dave jabbed him with his elbow, - Our plane is crashing down.
- Uhm… why the fuck did you wake me, then? - Martin yawned desperately. He took the sunglasses off and rubbed his eyes.
- Oops, - Dave said, when the plane had got into the next air-pocket.
- Stewardesses are pale and senseless? - Martin asked idly, looking at Dave.
- No, - Dave replied, turning back and looking in a cabin passage, - girls are pretty lively, sitting there and laughing.
- Relax then, - Martin said and stretched himself, - To be honest, I've changed my attitude to the process after me and Alan nearly was fucked down with our plane…uhm… we was flying from Spain I think. Hell knows, what had happened, probably it was an engine conked out, or something else, but everything was rather shitty. Stewardesses were crawling through the cabin. Somebody even more pessimistic then me, was suggesting that it would be better to grip passports in our teeth to make the further remains' identification easier. I've said goodbye to life with deep warmth then. I think I've relaxed a little since that, perhaps, if I was destined to be fucked down with the plane, I'd did it already.
- It was just some Magnificent Fucking Holy Shit following us that time, - Dave said, - I remember that day, the plane crashed down right before my eyes, when I was driving my car, I've never thought that it could be like that.
- Oh…so HE missed twice then, - Martin hissed through clenched teeth.
Fletch laughed out loud.
- Dear Lord! You saved me three times, WHAT FOR? - Dave exclaimed comically, - I've just changed for good. Fletch, tell me, by the way, are you afraid to fly?
- Oh, Yes, - Fletch replied, - I've always told you, this is the least normal way of travelling in my opinion.
Martin looked at his watch.
- It seems we will soon be home.
- Oops, - Dave said again, and coupled his hands on his chest, - God save us!
And really, soon the air hostess announced that their plane was landing. Dave had finished praying Our Father when the chassis touched the landing strip, and exhaled. Martin and Fletch clapped idly. The plane had stopped, the boarding bridge was adjoined. vDarryl, Martin's bodyguard, was already waiting for them at the boarding bridge. Not far from limousine. Martin was following Fletch and Dave. Usually it was sunny in Santa-Barbara, but now the sky was covered with white patches of the clouds.
- Listen, Dave, - Martin said suddenly, when Dave had already set his leg to go down the ladder, - I wanted to tell you something.
- Yes, Mart?
- Well I… - Martin rubbed his neck with some embarrassment, - I was there.
- Excuse me?
- At your door. I…I don't know, it appeared to me that you'd go out at the moment. I don't know why I'm telling this now. But I believe I should say I was there.
Dave froze. His hands were shaking. He caught the air convulsively. But still it wasn't the right time to show his feelings.
- Look, - he pointed to the sky with the weak smile, - Our Cloud of Doom hasn't appeared yet?
Martin laughed.
- No, Dave. Probably it's just not ours anymore.
- I'd prefer it to be truth, - Dave said.
He settled down on a leather seat of the limousine, stretching his legs with a whine, Martin had settled in front of him, getting the cigarette out and lighting it. Fletch sat down from the other side, near Martin, as usually. The car started smoothly.
- See, Mart, - Dave said, looking at bare rocky hills near the airport, when they were moving to the highway, - It's kind-a…good for me that our plane didn't crash down. It would be a great pity for me to die in ignorance.
Martin coughed as though choking with a smoke, but said nothing.
- What are you talking about? - Fletch wondered.
Soon this Oblivion turned out to be a New Boom. It was like a dream. Strangelove exploded in United States. Anton Corbijn, Danish queer fish, though a long time adored one by Dave, agreed to work with them. He rejected them before, unwilling to spoil his reputation, collaborating with the sloppy pop band. But now he changed his mind. And Anton was absolutely spellbound by Dave when he met him.
He was shooting the Strangelove video.
- Women, - Alan Wilder commented the video, - Guys, perhaps we achieved the higher level in our ontogenesis. We've got women.
- Heh-Heh-Heh - said Martin Gore.
He loved the result. But he didn't like Anton Corbijn. He didn't like Anton Corbijn because he was hanging around Dave and because Dave regarded him with his favor. Dave was looking at Anton with his wet shiny eyes, charmingly naive and playful like a little sweet puppy. Anton was burying down under the spell of Dave's Charm he just melted and he didn't even try to resist it.
- Grreat Moddell, - he was telling with some weird wooden accent, - Ddave iz just perfect. Pperfeckt.
Dave was laughing, clutching his shoulders and dragging Anton away. Sometimes he was heartedly aware of Martin's unblinking snake stare at famous photographer.
Strangelove exploded again with the video, so they signed contract. Daniel felt some kind of relief now so he brought them to Dave Bascombe's hands for the recording of a next album. Dave's son, Jack Gahan was born. Dave nearly died from happiness and tattooed his name in his hand. He was like a hen with one chicken, he tried to bring a baby with him into the studio when he could, but if he couldn't he brought his photos.
- This is my baby Jack, he`s sleeping….and look he`s trying to sit down already,…check it out here is Jack and our cat,….Jack and daddy.
- Dave, who are the happy mother? You or Joanne? - insisted Fletch.
- I bet, Dave, - answered Alan, - Dave, are you breast-feeding him or are you feeding him from the bottle already?
- Beer can? - added Martin.
- You idiots, - Dave was offended, but it all happens tomorrow all over again from the start.
Inspired by the baby theme they were re-shooting with Anton "A Question of time", then "Behind the wheel" and "Never Let me down", and everything has been changed. Fans were swarming around them, French, German and others who arrived only because they knew that Depeche Mode was there. Yes, they were jeering about their hundred but absolutely mad fans. But Anton helped fans to worship Depeche Mode, adding to their music and emotions Their Own Symbols, that became kind of fetish for the fans. They used to tell that there is a lot of humor in Anton's works, but anyway fans were refusing to see any humor in the symbols that became almost religious for them.
Daniel was laughing now about Martin's joke about the "Music for the Masses", he must admit that it became some kind of prophesy. In time with the adoration there was a time to think about the limitations for their personal freedom. Journalists were interested in them now, even to much, even British one, that was ignoring them before, but Guys became revengeful.
They arranged some kind of a puffy press-party for them, in some Victorian stile suite, and they outdid themselves. Martin refused to talk to journalists in the beginning, he took a recorder with himself and all the time played the melodies and one was more boring then another. Dave and Fletch was jeering him because of his bad taste in music. They were wondering where he could find those shit from the broad assortment of the modern music for the past twenty years.
- Who could ever knew, that flowers grow up from those shit, - said Alan gloomily gazing into his beer glass.
- Heh-Heh-Heh, - answered Martin Gore.
Then they got rather drunk, mixing beer with wine and wine with beer. Their special surprise, fans, burst into the room, young girls wearing outrageous clothes. They were throwing serpentines and chads around there, they colored velvet curtains with they sprayed paints. Fletch grabbed a cutie blonde girl and crawled under the table with her for the reason unknown. Martin was cutting a serpentine with the fork and knife.
- Moron, - affectionately said Dave and stroked Martin's dyed white curly mane.
Alan were irritated by those drunken mentally defectives around. Those drunken mentally defectives were irritated by sober Alan. They announced to journalists that their friend is too old, he`s twenty eight already, and probably he is suffering from the Alzheimer's syndrome.
A journalist girl showed her interest in Martin's extreme freaky image. Martin said that he`s not a freak at all, he`s absolutely normal, and the most outrageous thing that he ever did was that he called himself in the name of one dude from the French textbook, L'oncle Martin. The girl was rather disappointed from all the rubbish she had to hear tonight.
Then Martin enlisted the support from the fan girls and pushed a magazine photographer with a carrot moustaches onto the table and tried to take off his trousers, the photographer resisted him and soon Martin became bored with him. And he took his own pants off himself.
British mass media was deeply hurt by Depeche Mode from now on.
***
Anyway life was going on. They started their rehearsals for the new tour in London.
Martin comprehended more and more that he was living on several levels now. There was Susanne. He loved her in his own way. Concurrent to this life there laid another level. Prostitutes. Drunk or sober he became an underground brothel haunter. There were whores and fans too but very occasionally.
Dave and Alan laughed at him from time to time.
- Why pay for sex if chicks are here and willing and you can have them all for free?
They meant groupies of course and all those babes who were sending them their pictures that they loved to watch carefully. Martin answered with his usual Heh-Heh-Heh - which meant at that time exactly - "The fuck I will talk to these two dumbasses who haven't got a clue anyway."
The lack of responsibility and no need to any restraints and that was the name of the game. Money - Commodity. There are no debts or make amends. You pay for it - you use it. That was an idea that turned him on. He loved this kind of freedom. He loved to do whatever he wants to. Whether to be aggressive and try a girl's resistance, or be a nice and kind uncle. He liked it when she cries out from resentment or enjoyment. That wasn't because he was interested much in her feelings. He didn't give a piss, and that was it, that turned him on. He loved this feeling of power over another body and that he will never see her face after that. He said that if there was any God he believes, his name is Sex then.
He was enticed by the deeply erotic feeling of the impersonalized sex. People are changing but meaning is not. It was just one long romance for him. The one you shouldn't prove that you are worth someone near you. Romance, without liability to feel something, to suffer, to care. The romance where there was no need to wake up with your lover. There was no responsibility. That was some kind of the fairy tale with the name "Pure Sex". Sex distilled and refined, free from the foolish social limitations and restraints.
- I think, - he told Alan once - I think, sex for money, at some point much more decent then some relationships. In real life relationships are built up on weird dependences and manipulations, if to think they could be startlingly immoral. Someone held another on his strings, by using another's weaknesses, and guilt. You know I think it's probably just honest. You pay for sex and you get sex. Maybe it's the most natural and honest relationships that you can ever find in Earth.
- Oh, yeah…I understood, - hissed Alan, - All my miserable life I am paying hell higher price then it worth it.
They began to fight.
It seemed Alan's nerves became overstrained.
Susanne pressed Martin more and he let her do that, because he knew that she only held him on this side of normality. She personified him some kind of decency in her, and something that he have had in him before, she was the good part of him that he shouldn't have to hide, he could show her, for example to his family…even to himself. She was a sanctuary where he can hide from himself. However they slept together very occasionally and it couldn't insult their relationships much, because she never was interested in sex itself. Relationships excited her from the point of having her man near. That's all. Relationships that suites them both. And as a logical paradox it all brought Susanne over the hordes of the whores, which Martin used, and… well, and he thought he probably loved her.
***
Alan lit the cigarette with shaky hands.
Their sexual experiments now reached a dangerous point. They became literally and physically dangerous. Martin appeared far more aggressive to him, thus managed him to behave more aggressive too. They were moving obviously in the wrong direction, and the hell they could stop.
Dave went into this tour with Joanne and Jack. Hard to say, if it was his conscious or subconscious decision. He kept his distance from the rest of the band, oddly enough but Fletch was his moral support. He was some kind of elder brother. He was arrogant and looked down on him, and he was strange, but when Dave feels himself extraordinary shitty he always was at his side. He tapped his on the shoulder, jeered at him and asked whether he seen his glasses or not. No, it al couldn't became easily to bear for Dave but somehow thus Andy made him feel more confident that may be some day everything would be all right.
Alan talked with him so very little. Alan was psychologically tired and that was obvious. Martin grew thin like a starving garbage cat, his face reflected nothing and there was his unnatural over-buoyant grin only. Martin avoided Dave, but Dave knew that their encounters with Alan are pretty alive. He wasn't happy about it anyway.
Well Alan was crazy about the music and he was a great pianist too. They were making their live after party shows. With Dave involved from the start, but then Dave have had enough of it and left. What offended him most it that it seemed that no one had noticed his absence at all.
They were performing to audiences of fifteen thousand people. Their success was obvious. America embraced them and everything meant to be just fine though the weather was against them. It was raining every open-air show. Storm-clouds were following them, hiding the sun even in the States where there just couldn't be rain at all.
And it started again inside Alan's head, those awful nightmares about The Cloud. They were drinking together after one show he told Dave about his nightmare. Martin went out with Fletch to another party; Alan said that he has not enough health for that. Dave advised Alan to repair his roof, to not to let himself to drown in weird fantasies because he just probably needed to visit some psychiatrist. Alan answered that Dave should eat less chocolate, because he remind him of the fat puppy now. They fought each other with visible delight.
Well but Alan screwed up their brains with his Cloud and all in all they started to call those clouds that followed them - The Cloud of Doom.
- Fletch, I can feel it, this cloud….its against us. Fletch you have to know, I am sure you know. We are doing something not right…we shouldn't have done that. They want to teach us. They…He…or She…There - he pointed to the skies, - Something Out There. I don't know who is it, I just know he wanted to show us what's right, but we are too blind to see. This isn't just a coincidence… there are no coincidences in this world.
Fletch thoughtfully shrugged his shoulders.
- God bless you, Alan, - he giggled, - Why do you think Out There they know what is right and what is wrong?
- But Why then? What for? - Alan's voice became hoarse.
- Who knows - said Fletch, - who knows. But we have to hold on, right? And if you won't go with me now, we will miss our sound check then our synthesizers will go in various directions again. And don't you dare tell me that it's not your fault and I have to blame those guys, Out There.
When Dave was fortunate enough to escape his sleeping family he was getting drunk blind and announcing to Alan that he still loves Martin, he asked him not to forget to tell Martin that. Alan felt like he was ready to throw up, but he was telling Martin what Dave asked him. Martin told that he thinks, probably it would be better for Dave to be without him.
Alan was finishing two cigarettes packs for a day and his soporifics ending up too quickly. And alcohol too. And this all just stop working on him. He needed to sleep during the days but he can`t sleep at nights. He forgot what is day and what night is. After so many months his round the clock's turned into "show or not show". His girlfriend gave birth to his baby he somehow didn't care much, although earlier he thought he'd die from happiness. It was all so weird like in a different planet. In his Universe there were buses and planes and crazy fans. No, he suggested that there should be normal people somewhere, but he`s seen none of them near. Those ones he was seeing, they managed him to howl and writhe in hysterics across the floor. Psychos, real psychos, with morbid eyes, they were radiating misfortune, desperation and weakness with their each pore. When he saw them it appeared to him that they are poisoning the atmosphere around only by the fact of their presence. Wicked caricatures and distorting mirrors of them four.
And it appeared that Martin was having his fun. He loved that it was him, who was doing it with those people, he loved that it was him who was doing all this with their minds. That he was sort of Mastermind for all that insanity around. This power over brains of the others seemed to be a hell fun for him. Probably he was considering himself as a God or something pretty close.
Dave didn't give a shit about these philosophical aspects; he needed to be adored and admired, the more the better. He never thought about the people's minds he saw the crowd that worshipped him. He told that it is like sex and even better. This energy that he felt was radiating from the audience that was something that made him addicted.
- You are grabbing your dick in front of thousands people and they are just yelling from rapture. That's awesome; - he giggled and grabbed his dick at the next show in more and more obscene manner. Martin didn't say a word about that but you didn't need to be extrasensory perceptive to see that he was having his fun because of that too.
Alan's thoughts were interrupted by the yells and laughter from the halls. Martin stood there drunk with two sluts they were wearing black dresses and heavy eyeliner their hair were dyed platinum blonde. Martin was reeling from side to side but girls tried to keep him steady. The third girl tried to put his card into his door but she was drunk too so she didn't succeed.
- I need to talk to you, now, - he told Martin.
- Can`t you see I am busy now?
- Busy? With what? - Alan pushed left chick away from Martin - You get you ass out of here - he told her.
- Ma-a-ar-rtin - she whined. But Martin's attention was absorbed with the fight between Alan and the third girl for his keycard. His shoulders were shaking from giggles. It's all seemed very funny for him.
- GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, CUNTS, - Alan roared and dragged Martin into his room, fighting with the girls that were too keen to get inside.
Martin stood at the wall and laughed aloud.
Alan went furious.
- YOU CRUSHED ME DOWN, YOU BOTH, YOU BROKE ME - He clutched Martin's neck and pressed him to the wall, - you two fuckers, you crushed me and fucking spread my guts across the floor.
Martin kicked his hand aside. His humor was over now.
- There is no us both, - he cut off.
Alan was breathing heavily, leaning his back to the opposite wall.
- Oh fuck off, you are always together - he told, - You know that YOU ARE. You are fucking seeing the world pass you by. This world was made to serve you and to supply you with all the things that you ever need. You should admit it; it is exactly your thoughts, huh? What if you are flying too high and it will be fucking painful to fall down?
- You…like-a…shouldn't give a shit, mate, - Martin crossed his hands on his chest - For it's none of your business.
- Fuck you, - Alan turned to go.
- Wait, - Martin caught him near the door. Alan tried to fight but Martin threw him off the door sharply.
- That was all that you wanted to tell me? - Alan hadn't had an idea that Martin can raise his voice like this.
Alan fell down on the floor painfully hit his head to the wall, almost for the black circles in front of his eyes.
- No, I can tell you a lot of things Martin, although I'm not sure that you are ready to hear.
- Speak.
- How long will you torture me? - asked Alan.
- Me?
- You.
- What have I done to you?
- What…you….what, - whispered Alan, - fuck…what. You think I am an idiot? You think I don't have a clue why are you messing with me? That I don't have a clue for I am working like your extra conscious, your own Fucking God Punishment and God Forgiveness…I am a substitute for love to you, have a strength to tell me now, right into my face! You can`t build the relationships that you need more then air. You think you'd better die then you'd care how does it feels for the person near. But you are not egoist, oh no, even I couldn't call you an egoist. YOU FUCKING HATE YOURSELF. And I am helping you to cope with that hate. I am a hangman for you and I am executing a sentence. After that you can rise again and move forward, trampling down and ruin everything and everyone around you.
- Nonsense, you are talking nonsense… - Martin squeezed his teeth. He fell down on his knees near to Alan, clutching his shoulder and shaking him violently, - you…stop it.
- You think you will use me forever, huh? - Alan tried to break free from Martin's hands; - You think I exist only for your good? Shi-i-i-it, you are feeling bad, you hate yourself, Alan, FUCK,YEAH! ALAN WILL TAKE YOUR PAIN! And Alan would never ask anything in return. Never….You are moving down, lower and lower…you, - Alan caught a breath, - And Alan will cut this abscess again and take all this decay that your best things you ever had turned into, away. Yeah. Alan would save you from yourself!!!
Alan grabbed Martin's jacket and moved Martins face closer to himself, his lips were trembling.
- Have you ever proposed that I won't always do as you wish?
Martin's eyes narrowed, face turned to stone. He was silent for a minute or two. It seemed he sobered a bit.
- You will, - he said quietly to Alan.
- What?
- YOU WILL, - Martin said, - You will do as I wish, as long as I will need you.
But this statement wasn't enough for Martin, he kissed him. Possessively and jeeringly, cynically even. Alan roared under him and bit his lower lip to feel the salty taste of his blood. He spit on his face to show his contempt ripping him from the inside. Martin slapped him in the face hard.
- I hate you, - hissed Alan, he didn't open his eyes the taste of Martins blood mixed with his own for his lip was tore with the tooth, when Martin hit him.
- Me too, - said Martin gloomily.
He turned wiping off his blood Alan on his stomach, wrenching his hands over his back.
- You cunt, I didn't allow you… - he was trying to free himself from Martin's grip.
- Like I was going to ask, - smirked Martin, - What` up, Al? Why are you so mad? … Something is wrong now? WHAT`S SO WRONG WITH ALL THAT NOW ALAN?
- YOU ARE FUCKING HURTING ME, - Alan screamed, - Let me go! Now!
Martin held him tightly, so he would risk dislocating his elbow joints if he tried to break loose.
- Yes, I think it's not suits you now, Alan, but I'd say you loved it. You loved to administer justice before, Alan. You was bloody out of you mind when you CAN do it.
Martin spread Alan's legs with his knee.
- So much pleasure, isn't it? This one, underneath, at your command, willingly submitting to you. He`s your puppet, he`s yours…you are like a God to him. You are the Destiny.
- Martin you are drunk and you are nuts.
- Whatever… Martin is drunk and he is nuts, - Martin repeated, he wasn't offended at all, - Ma-a-a-ar-t-i-i-in, - he was mocking Alan's manner now, - Relax baby, take it easy, everything will be all right as long as you remember who's the boss here. That's what makes you mad? You can`t control me anymore? That's what makes you so mad?
For their surprise Pennybacker agreed to work with them. They decided to make a film about their concert with fans and all that stuff, it was tempting for them to immortalize this phenomenon, they've created. Created, actually just on occasion, they never thought about that before, what did they create.
They didn't believe that it will be possible to perform in front of the crowd of eighty thousands; that's was hard to imagine. They've never worked with the equipment that was suitable on such scale. Big red BONG, that's how Fletch tenderly called this giant loudspeaker,(that) fell down twice and nearly killed their sceneshifters. Jonathan overdid himself trying to find a lifting crane in California that should be working on Sunday, to hang that monstrous creature still. Alan looked at the window and checked. The Cloud of Doom was there too.
The show has begun. Dave was loosing his voice, then gathering his last strengths and continued to sing. Martin tried not to look to the audience, he was praying for the God to let him die right here and right now, and not torture him more. When Dave started Blasphemous Rumors about the God's sick sense of humor, the Cloud of Doom burst out with thunder and lightening sliced the night skies. Alan grew pale and almost fell down. There started a thunderstorm that shouldn't actually happen in California at June at all. Just a thunderstorm.
***
The tour was over now. Dave was driving his new car across the streets of London. He thought that they've got really far apart now with Martin, he never thought that they'd ever could. Since they returned from tour there a wall of toughened glass was built between all four of them. They dispersed onto their houses and didn't communicate at all. You shouldn't count on Fletch and Martin of course. They continued to go to their stupid football matches with manic stubbornness.
Actually when it turns out that they mixed together with Martin there was nothing to talk about. Actually they weren't together there was Man Friday Fletch near. Dave looked at Martin from time to time, trying to realize what was that with them both before.
He turned on the radio, there was the Doors playing.
Before you slip into unconsciousness
I'd like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss
The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
We'll meet again, we'll meet again*
Now it seemed like a dream. He couldn't tell that he was suffering now. No, he was captivating by success, and his new role of the father. He loved to be in the center of people's attention, he loved the worshipping and that whole world laid at his feet now. No, he couldn't tell that he was suffering at all. If they should come through all that, well then, that's ok, it seemed to be worth it. Let's say it worth it.
Martin announced that he was going to make his own record, not related with the Depeche Mode label and that's hurt him. Of course Martin told that there will be an album of the covers of his songs that they four were usually fucking too sick to hear. All songs of his own will forever and ever belong to Depeche Mode only. But that wasn't an issue.
The main problem was that it all shattered. Alan locked himself in his own studio too; his creative process was even harder to understand to Dave, thought the result was even worse.
Virtually they four didn't exist anymore.
The crystal ship is being filled
A thousand girls, a thousand thrills
A million ways to spend your time
When we get back, I'll drop a line* The Doors Crystal Ship
So their own crystal ship shattered in pieces.
At the speed of eighty miles for an hour he drove out into the crossroad. An imbecile from the left side missed him at right time. Dave abruptly pushed the brake pedal into the floor, but that was useless at that speed. His car was turned around twice and stopped, crashing into another car. Inertia of the impact was that huge two cars were carrying out from the crossroad and hit some more vehicles on its way. He lost his control of what was going on.
When he returned to his senses, there was a smell of burning and gasoline, he rushed out off the car, subduing the pain of fractured leg. He crept outward, rolled aside off his car; it could blow up in a minute. He saw people running to their direction, he saw they dragged that guy from another car, he was covered in blood and it seemed that he was seriously injured he probably lost his legs or something. Dave fell down, face to the grass and cried. Not from pain. From shock. That was too much for him. That's all was just too much.
***
I have to tell you
I ache for you still**
Another half a year has been passed. Dave was listening Martin's album when his telephone rang. Naturally, he didn't like the music, but he was listening for the words. He was sure that they held a message for him.
Sequels in progress
We're growing much older
I'm afraid that I leave
But my pain never goes ** Smile in the Crowd (Counterfeit E.P.)
Martin said from the speakers. And at the same time the telephone rang too loud and sharply. Dave toppled an espresso cup over his trousers.
- Hello, - he said irritated.
- Dave, can you meet me at twelve?
A year has passed. No "Hello" and no "How are you". Martin, your girlfriend sent me a Christmas card from you both three months ago, I nearly died from happiness. Mate, you are still the same.
- Yes, certainly, Martin.
I can. Of course I can, Martin. Maybe you don't know it yet that I'd rather kill myself if I won't be able to.
- It's nice to hear you voice.
I wet my pants already from happiness. And not literally.
- I must admit, I missed you that much, I was listening to your Counterfeit.
- You didn't like it.
That wasn't a question that was a fact, indifferent fact. He wasn't even offended. Thus there was no point to make excuses.
- No, - Dave admitted, - But there was some phrases that left a room in me for some hope. Of course if you comprehend what I'm talking about.
At twelve, cool wind was lashing against Dave's face, against trees that shed their leaves and smearing puddles over the stoned river embankment. It seemed that near the river wind was even stronger. Dave turned up his collar as it would help. The river reflected leaden clouds and merged with asphalt with its color. Martin was late. Dave was irritated. He was dancing here impatiently and quietly cursing to himself. Twelve thirty. There was some gentlemen in a hooded coat passed him by he was walking his wet and trembling dog. But after fifteen minutes they were gone too. So Dave remained at the park alone. He leaned to the parapet, looked at his watches and decided if Martin would not appeared at ten minutes he'd left.
- That was a real madness to I ask you to meet me at the park in weather like this, - suddenly there was Martin voice behind his back.
Dave turned to him abruptly, he was going to tell him everything that he was thinking about him all that time, but the sound of Martin's voice filled him with such warmth making his thoughts melt.
Martin smiled to him confusedly.
- There are no even bums at the park today…I am standing here alone like pointing…fucking finger, - Dave asked, displeased - Where are you gadding about?
Martin looked down.
- I… - he started then suddenly stopped and stayed quiet for some time. Only two burning black oil pools of Dave's eyes managed him to continue, - I was afraid you wouldn't come.
- What were you afraid? - Dave's irritation met with bewilderment.
- That you wouldn't…
- WHAT?
Martin looked aside and went silent. Dave grabbed the collar of his jacket and shook him.
- You'd call me and I wouldn't come? You called me and I didn't come? - Dave's voice cracked, - Have you ever called me and I hadn't come? Do you understand what are you talking about?!....Fuck you, don't you dare cry, - he hoarse, when he saw Martins eyes shining wet, and he felt like crying too.
He didn't take a second thought he just pulled Martin to himself, crushing his mouth with his. Martin was answering to his kiss with no less eagerness. Dave's body ignited in a second he grabbed Martin's head with both hands, not letting him move away, his lips were greedily seizing Martin's lips, though Martin didn't try to move away at all. Martin snatched him too, and there wasn't any power to help Dave to break loose. Suddenly Dave's brain was pierced by the annoying thought about a dog and the passer-by. He set his hands against Martin's chest and pushed him off.
- Fuck, we can`t stay here like that in the middle of London and kiss, - he told, desperately rubbing his lower lip with his finger. Against his will his lips refused to stop kissing, they were painfully craving to touch Martin's lips again. They see separation like an insult, and they were eager to complete their revenge kindling the fire of Dave's desire higher and higher more.
Martin said nothing but expression on his face was priceless.
- Listen here, we can`t go my place, - Dave's brain started its pragmatic work, forgetting all previous doubts, there was no time for that shit - Jo and Jack are at home. I guess we can`t go your place either.
Martin nodded.
- Oh no, - Dave moaned, - and the fuck we could go to some hotel, tomorrow our toilet news papers would be shouting about all that. That sucks.
- Fletch, - Martin said.
- Huh? It's like a sweet Saturday morning and you are suggesting going to Andy and Anna to ask if they let us…
- Shit, no, - Martin interrupted him impatiently, obviously he wasn't in a philosophical mood right now, - Andy rents a small flat in London's suburbs.
- Jesus fuck - Dave smirked.
Martin nodded.
- C'mon…
- That way…my car is over there…, - Dave said.
- You drive, already?
- Why not? - Dave shrugged his shoulders, and changed the topic, while they hurried to his car - So, you've said that Andy rents a flat?
- M-m-m-m, - Martin purred, - Top Secret. There is no way to Anna to know.
- A-a-a-andy-y-y-y….Our Good Old Andy…Who'd have an idea? Does he… meet someone?
- Uhm…no, I think…. - Martin explained, - He rents it for some whores, you know.
Dave touched Martin's shoulder, this statement seemed ambigious.
- You are so cynical…
They laughed both.
Fletch opened his door, he was wearing (a)black bathrobe with gold lilies, and pajamas trousers with blue and white stripes and he was wearing glasses in heavy spectacle frame.
- Fletch, could you…uhm…give me keys? - said Martin with a broad smile.
- Who is it, honey? - Anna showed behind Andy's shoulder, there was a hair-roller in her hair right over her pretty face. She hid behind her husband's back quickly, when she saw Martin and Dave.
- Which keys? - Fletch frowned.
- Uh…f-f-from from - Martin was stammering without any reason.
- From the second studio… - Dave prompted.
- From the studio? - Andy was thinking hard.
- We need it bad, - Martin said, - Right now.
- Oh,…from THE STUDIO, - Fletch`s face lit a bit, - Of course, no problem, Martin, wait a minute. You both come inside.
- Hi Anna, - Martin said, - you look so fine.
- Idiot, - said Anna, furiously unlocking her hair roller that get stuck in her hair.
- No…I mean it, - Martin was apologizing, - That's true.
Dave hid his face and tried not to laugh out too loud.
It took a little time to go to the second studio to them, Martin never drove a car but the way was obviously too familiar to him. Dave danced impatiently, while he was opening the door. They went into the dark tiny flat; Dave locked the door and pressed Martin to the wall. He was kissing him hungrily, his lips, his face, his neck, his lips again.
- Shit, I am feeling myself like a teenager, - he said, - finally found a place to fuck. Is there any bed?
- Wicked question, Dave, - Martin even seemed offended a little.
Dave licked his lips and stepped back room Martin, he removed the cap from Martin's head. Took off his own shoes helping with the one foot to another, threw his jacket under the drawers, and went into the bedroom. Well he actually tried to throw his jacket ONTO the drawers, but failed, and decided that he had little time to pick it up from the floor.
The flat was really looking like it was rented for the only one purpose. The living-room was almost empty, there was a picture on the wall of some modern artist, amazingly scabrous, and there was a black leather sofa and a fake chimney at the opposite wall. One door lead to the small dining room combined with a kitchen, and the second door lead into the bedroom.
Big bed occupied good half of the bedroom. Dave jumped onto the bed, covered with the counterpane imitating the tiger-skin. It seemed to be rather clean counterpane. Martin delayed, he turned on the heating. Then he stood there for the long time, thoughtfully rubbing the back of his waist, gazing nowhere.
- MART! - Dave shouted at him, - Fuck you, Mart come here, NOW! - He opened his embraces, and softened his voice; - Do not drive me mad even more.
Martin giggled and climbed up onto the bed into his embraces.
- Yes, master, - he gave a kiss to Dave, grabbing his crotch. Dave unfastened their lips with a smacking sound; smile curved his lips, though he tried to stay serious. He turned Martin into his back, repeating Martin previous manoeuvre.
- You are playing with fire, - he hissed.
Martin's moan hit his nerves hard, because of its unconcealed and impudent indecency - it seemed that Mart was far too eager to play with fire. Dave took his hand away from Martin's crotch and stood at his fours over him. They were kissing again, hot and greedy, not able to quenches their thirst for kisses.
- I fucking missed ya, - said Dave.
He pulled off Martin's sweater and shirt at once and jerked free buttons of his own shirt. He let himself to perform a little show, by sliding silky material down by his back with moving of his shoulders. Martin was smiling broadly. Dave knew Martin loved his shows.
He curved his back and rubbed his naked skin against Martin's naked skin, making them caught their breath. And once again that was a joining of their lips that shouldn't have been interrupted. Martin was moving underneath him, too insistent and may be rather too aggressive then it was needed. Probably he had his own plans for Dave too. Dave held his shoulders still.
- Hush…baby…hush, Uncle Dave will do everything.
Martin whined not agreeing with Dave. But Dave wasn't in the mood to yield. He was stroking Martin's body while kissing his neck, slowly and tastefully moving his mouth over Martin's shoulders and collar bones. Familiar scent of Martin's skin was calming and exciting at the same time for him. It was calming at the point that Dave was feeling himself unbelievably safe and relaxed, letting all the worries outside this house. It was exciting at the point that…it was fucking turning him on. He slid lower, teasing his nipple with his tongue, then with his thumb, then with his tongue again.
Martin tried to move away a little; well it certainly was too intensive. Yes that what he wants him for. No play, mate, now it's time to work. Dave sucked his nipple quite literally, making Martin twitch in his arms. Dave let Martin push up his thighs off the bed to press himself to Dave the way he needed rather badly now. But not too long …not too long. Dave pressed Martin's thighs down to the bed again.
- Don't, - he said, - you shouldn't do it again.
He kissed his nipple again and then moved his tongue up to his neck and into his mouth. Martin moved towards abruptly, Dave slapped his belly lightly.
- Hey, you kind-a obey me, or I'd have to slap you again, huh? - He kissed Martin more. Martin did it again right ahead.
- You're trying my patience… - Dave said. Martin grinned.
- Yes I am, - he nodded.
Dave slid off to remove his pants. Then he undressed too, he did it in time they both were too hard now. His fingers slid lightly over Martin's body from down to the top just to wake his senses more. Dave straddled his chest.
- It seems you are in trouble now? - Cheerfully interested Dave.
Martin was fondling his thighs now. His gaze was far lower then Dave's eyes considering the fact that Dave was sitting on his chest. Dave contentedly stroked himself. He cupped his balls then squeezed his thick erect shaft with his hand. He was sliding with his other hand over his own body, chest and navel, he bit his lip, exhaling, its all was more pleasurable then he could predict. Martin fingers stilled him with their iron grip; his face openly showed that all jokes are over for him now. Dave directed his cock to his lips, inducing his lover to vent on him all his disability to touch himself. And his reckoning was justified; Martin was caressing him for two. Dave was moving his hips towards his mouth.
- Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah…more, - he kept repeating not actually to encourage Martin then to distract his own attention.
He was desperately willing to make it hotter, but now he became aware of his own thoughts. He carefully tried to control every movement of his hips not to let himself thrust his cock deep into his mate's throat, his sizes let all jokes aside. Martin pleased him restlessly; Dave was seeing only his lips around his cock now.
- Suck me, - he exhaled, - suck my dick, I know you like him. C'mon, you please me. Please me more. Oh, yeah, you know how to make Dave happy. Make me, baby, make me come. Stop whining it won't take long with such sweet mouth like yours…yeah, right…move it just like this. After that you will get my cock…you know where…I know I know that's probably not what you wish for,… it's just I won't give you a choice. It will be just like that, the faster you'll finish me the sooner I will help you.
However, the amplitude of his movements grew bigger with the growing tension, scorching out his brains to the Holy Mother. He wanted to make it harder; he wanted to feel his power over him. He was just wanting, not thinking anymore.
- Deeper, f-f-fuck….deeper…I know he`s big...ohh….oii…take more of him. Oh yeah just like this …Head backwards, man it would be easier to you…a-ha… Yeah…more. More. More. STOP!
He pulled his wet cock out.
- Look at me.
He said that jerking off his dick harder, because the lava that was boiling in his balls willing to burst out in leaps and bounds. He didn't want to come into his mouth; he wanted Martin to see him as he would stroke his shaft in his palm, as his polished reddening surface shining now and the white drop appearing on his very tip….how he…fuck…he was confident that his every movement echoing in Martin with unbearable spasms in the borderline of pleasure and pain, because the position they were in forbid him to touch himself. Dave moaned, covering his hand and Martin's face and neck with his sperm.
Martin wasn't looking at him he even turned away, and Dave wouldn't blame him for that. He was sliding across his lips and face and neck with his dick feeling his orgasm's afterglow. But he wasn't ready to stop yet.
- Can`t you see what am I doing with ya? - he asked, not actually waiting for an answer, - I am doing with you everything that I can, - Dave hissed this contact of his dick and Martin's mouth was still a little bit too much. To be impartial, actually it was Martin who let him do exactly what He was wanted him to do, but nevermind, it turned Dave on even more then the touch of his lips.
He turned Martin on his stomach soon, consciously aware not to let Martin's cock touch the sheets too close. Martin was so obviously overexcited now that it wasn't a big surprise that he went inside easily enough. New sensation left him breathless for a second and made him stop for a while, but then he was moving again. Literally after several frictions Martin came, that were be too amazing that he endured even those. His long awaited orgasm added some extra stimulation for Dave, he stopped again revelled his pleasure, but he was actually just getting started so he didn't have in mind to finish it yet. But also he became aware that his manipulations now could be rather painful for Martin, providing the fact that soon endorphins would melt down with the sloped excitement.
- C'mon…you jerk off, - he ordered, to somehow prevent it.
- I don't want to, - answered Martin.
- I've told you…jerk off, - Dave slapped him lightly on his ass in support with his words, then more, - It's not for you, it's for me.
Martin's hand shrugged uncertainly.
- C'mon, show me, - Dave was reassuring him, - show me how are you enjoying it. Show me, how are you enjoying my cock,… you like him, huh? You need my cock… don't even try to tell that you don't. C'mon harder, I should feel it, I should feel HOW BAD you need it, move toward, yeah….right…move….move. I wanna feel it.
He felt that their mutual efforts weren't in vain at all. They felt senses now overflowing them both. Dave turned Martin onto his back.
- Fuck you, Mart, I WANNA FUCKING SEE IT, - he roared entering him once again. He can see only Martin's hand on his own cock now. The world outside shrank down into one hot point in his mind, into white hot point of their junction. Dave screwed up his eyes; he lifted up Martin's thighs, letting his body slid down more, imposing himself on the top of him. Dave was on top, he was fucking him hard now, and he even had a lump into his throat from all that sensations that pierced his body and mind.
- Can you feel it? Can you? Oh…fuck…oh fuck…o-o-oh fuck. Can you feel that you are like one of those cunts for me now, one of those fucking whores, dumb bitches you are usually fucking here, huh? You know now what does it means? You have a …unique...ouch…arrgh...possibility to feel yourself one of them with me. Huh? Do you like it?
He made Martin come for the second time. And he let himself go to pretty soon, this time not into him again. He pulled his cock out and came into his navel, for no reason, it was just a habit gained with Joanne.
Dave went out to take a shower. He soaped himself and stood under the hot water, reflecting upon one delicate question of what he should do now. Get the fuck out of here or stay. Both ways were such great he felt sick. There was only devastation inside him now. The most cynical thing was that he could go now pretty easily. It wouldn't affect their relationships with Martin much. There was nothing in this world that could affect their relationships more then they did before. They were already damaged and beaten within an inch of its life. Their relationships were in coma and actually should have been died already…and they did die and not once. Martin and him was burying them for so many times, getting fucking drunk in commemorations.
Dave was wondering if he'd stay now, what they were going to talk about. There wasn't any topic in this world that was interesting to them both. They were different persons. They talk different, they act different and they had different views, different valuables, different families and different friends. They weren't even friends. They had nothing in common, but work and success they achieved. And almost drug dependence from sex. And billions killed nerve cells and tons of spoiled health in the sake of each other.
He fully appreciated the fact that if he would go now he'd bring himself another impact. Just another impact and that's all. But it would change nothing. They are strong they can handle it. On the other hand he suspected that perhaps Martin was waiting him to go now. That was driving him mad. I am not a whore from Madam Venus's Brothel, the fuck I'll let you use me as a confirmation to your brilliant theory of sexual depersonalization.
- Mart, - he called. We wouldn't be waiting for him until he gets showers, anyway.
Martin opened the stained glass door of the shower cabin and looked inside rather indifferently.
- Come here, - Dave told.
Martin moved slowly, closer and closer more, he didn't say a word. He grabbed Dave's waist with both hands and trustfully hid his face between Dave's neck and shoulder. Martin pressed his body against Dave's and sniffed funny, rubbing his nose against another man's neck. Agonizingly sharp spasm of sheer tenderness pierced Dave through his entire body, he almost yelled. He clutched Martin's curly hair and grabbed his shoulders bringing him even closer to himself.
- Tomorrow? - Finally he forced himself to say.
Martin nodded. Well, he tried to, because Dave's hands held him too tightly.
- Fletch, you are in trouble with your flat now… - Dave laughed happily, feeling Martin's hands sliding up and down his wet naked back.
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