Martin and Alan locked themselves in the room with glass walls. They bent their heads over the synthesizer, as far as it seemed to David, courting each other like two sweet doves. They were contriving something for the second running hour.
Dave was rocking his leg nervously, finishing his cold tea with distinct aversion. He kept calling Miller by phone for the whole week. He insisted that he wanted to leave the band. Miller was in Berlin, he kept advising Dave to freshen the nip before he'd call him again with that shit. As expected, Martin avoided him like a plague, Fletch was just very polite and Alan… He just couldn't stand Alan.
From the other side of the glass wall he could see, Martin put on his earphones and came close to the microphone. Alan turned on his chair and propped his chin with his hand. Martin closed his eyes. His face seemed to be so dreamy and intent. Alan was exceedingly attentive. Suddenly he grinned uncontrollably, but immediately tried to hide his smirk. Martin looked at him at the exact moment so now they were both laughing. Then again they've made an effort to record it all. Alan shook his head from side to side, pushing some keys on the synthesizer. Then he nodded and lifted his thumbs up. Martin smiled and took off his earphones. Alan turned on the sound, rolled his eyes, he performed strange gesture in the air in a rather obscene way, displaying the whole spectrum of his own pleasure from what he has hearing. He made them both laugh once again. Dave suddenly felt that his day wouldn't come. He stood up to go, but the door swung open.
- Dave…
The voice that called his name was unexpected as much as heartedly welcomed. Dave turned around abruptly, not having enough time to think how to act.
- Dave, - Martin smiled and beckoned him. Obviously he didn't have any doubts if Dave would follow. However, Dave followed.
- Eureka! - Said Alan to Dave, - That means - We've found! Listen here…
Dave used an advantage to be together in the small room. Too small room for the three of them. So he stood as close to Martin as he could. He could feel his warmth. Martin stood near silent; somehow it filled Dave's heart with irrational hope.
Soon he understood what made them laugh. Who would object? Those three notes at the beginning sounded much better since Martin moaned them like he was in pure ecstasy. The way they sounded made him blush. Alan noticed that.
- Depeche Mode porno style, huh?
Martin grinned. Somehow he looked a little bit confused. Dave laughed nervously. Pretty much he was trying to hide his own embarrassment too. He took some sheets of paper from the desk, holding salutary lyrics and notes as it was his last hope. Then he put on his earphones.
The magic of the music took him completely. Feelings overwhelmed him, sounds and words caressed him from inside, habitually leading him into the sweetest sort of unconsciousness. Dave closed his eyes, moving his hips the same slow and tender rhythm, as Martin's voice tickled his naked nerves with the warm breeze.
Jealousy that pinched Dave because of the idea that Martin's singing, better to say, ecstatic moans, were recorded not with him but with this red devil, melted down, giving the way to the dizzy feeling that those sounds existed for him only. They were caused by his will and they belonged to him.
- FUCK! - He yelled, - Fuck I've missed the line!!!…One more time. Go!
Martin settled himself on the table. He was looking at Dave like a cat, staring at playing sparrows through the window. There weren't any particular thoughts in his stare. Intelligent or not. You just couldn't read this stare at all. But something was wrong with it. He was looking at Dave, not blinking, but there wasn't any aggression in his eyes, but there wasn't any visible sympathy. His eyes hypnotized him, though, he was sure, unintentionally. That was just a serpent's nature. Dave shrugged.
I'm not going down on my knees
Begging you to adore me
Can`t you see it's misery
And torture for me
Dave started the lines, immediately getting into the mood of the song. He was almost annoyed by the response that those lyrics woke up in him. He thought he could say exactly the same words.
Yeah, fuck, for how long does this game last?
Here is a plea
From my heart to you
Nobody knows me
As well as you do
You know how hard it is for me
To shake the disease
That takes hold of my tongue
In situations like these
Good Lord! I would subscribe to all the thighs you've said. Yes, I would agree. Get out of my head, you pretty motherfucker, get out and stop perverting abusing my paralyzed mind.
- Understand me, - asked Martin so sweetly from his earphones, - Understand me.
Shit, If you are so smart, and you seem to understand what's going on, why the fuck are you mock of me? Dave's slowed down rage aroused with the renewed power.
They've been recording the second verse. Over and over again. Every time someone was so very unpleased with the result. Dave was sure that they were just nagging him. Martin said that that one…two times before was the best version. Alan told Dave and Martin that they are just two pot-boilers and lazy buggers, that the birth of Real Art it is hard work and diligence. Real Art is Workmanship.
Martin told him that his workmanship people usually called hack-work. That is the thing that could be done in hard work and diligence. What you can call an Art you should feel with all your heart because it is made only by God himself. Whatever God can exist. You can`t foretell it, you rather express His will, or you don't.
Alan spitted spitefully that their song - Hey, you're such a pretty boy, hey, hey what's your name? - was some kind of the Revelation Divine. Martin laughed out loud, obviously Alan offended him, but he tried not to show that, he asked them both if they want to go for a drink. Dave looked at him intently and said that he would be glad, but today he`s going to get a shag. Also he said that his new chick is very nice and cute, and if they both would treat him better, he could make an attempt to talk to her about her female-friends for them. Martin looked down, he didn't say anything. Dave went out swaying his hips and shut the door loudly. I'm not going down on my knees. I'm not going to beg you. Not me. I'm not like that. Dream on.
Martin stood up from the table. Alan's behavior changed immediately right after Dave's withdrawal. He grabbed Martin's arm.
- My place?
- I… - Martin said, - I…c-can`t…
- Oh, c'mon, Martin, you know you won't be sorry, - for some reason Alan squeezed his teeth tightly while he told that. He pushed Martin closer to himself with precise motion; - Let's play a little…huh?
- I think, - said Martin and then became quiet.
Alan was waiting patiently.
- Probably, yes, - he said finally.
Alan opened the door with the key, switched the light on. He clutched Martin in his embraces without ceremony, right here in the small and stuffy place. He thrust Martin's face to hysterical yellow-blue wallpapers on the corridor wall. Alan frenziedly bended his arms over his back, and shut the door.
- It is unpleasant for me, the way you are looking at him; - Martin couldn't take his eyes off an ultramarine flower on the canary-yellow field. Those idiosyncratic roses became some kind of fetish for him. They produced inside him an aversion so deep he felt sick, thought at the same time this aversion provided distinct pathological sexual enjoyment.
- Alan, we are not…
- Shut the fuck up, till I let you speak!
Martin twitched under his pressure, his harsh words made him angry. Alan pushed his leg between Martins, spreading them wider, depriving him of the ability to move. Virtually he played an all in one game. Alan hadn't got any advantage over Martin in his muscular strength, obviously, if Martin wouldn't allow him, nothing would happen. Alan closed his eyes tight, and waited what next, his heart painfully pounded in his head.
- You are mine… - he wasn't sure if he sounded affirmative or interrogative.
Martin didn't answer, just sighed, Alan felt his body relaxed. - You are mine.
Alan tousled his hair tenderly and stepped back. Martin remained staying by the wall, spreading his legs widely and keeping his hands over his back. Alan smiled contentedly.
- Oh, yeah, - Alan whispered, stroking his mate's shoulders with both hands, calming him down. Then he helped him to remove his t-shirt, and allowed him to take a step from the wall, - Pants - he said, - take them off, Mart.
Even in the dim yellowish light it was seen that his cheek-bones turned pink. His hands were slightly shaking from the excitement; therefore he couldn't cope with his trousers. Alan gazed at him, devouring his every movement. When hesitatingly and gingerly jean cloth slid down the slender hips, he moved down to remove them all, then he straightened again slowly, still eyes down. Alan's heart leaped up once again, he was extremely turned on not by the sight of Martin stripped, but by the thought that Martin stripped for him only.
Alan stood there fully clothed. He crossed his arms on his chest; he kept on staring at his mate, possessively, giving particular attention to his semi hard dick in a fair bush. Without any doubts this staring aroused and embarrassed Martin at the same time. His hands moved out of his control, in subconscious desire to hide the main reason of his sufferings.
- Hands off, - considered Alan, - I want to see…him. Perhaps it would be better if your hands would be bound. You shouldn't have done that.
He carried out his threat and bound Martin hands with some handcuffs. He turned to face himself in a big mirror hanging on the wall. He leaned closer to his boy from the behind holding him across his body.
Martin closed his eyes enjoying the feeling that he is under somebody's will now, and he should submit to him, he just couldn't resist. Warm smooth hands were gliding up and down his naked body, down to his thighs, up to his navel and the chest. Strange sensation of his absolute helplessness, of being tied up and naked near the fully clothed Alan, holding him tightly, was incredibly arousing.
- Open your eyes and see, - Alan whispered into his ear; and slightly bit it with his teeth, impelling Martin to watch his reflection in the mirror, where his hands were doing their sweet job. They were caressing his belly, slowly rising to his pink nipples that seemed to be aroused even if the do not. Alan stroking him more and more, then he touched his lips with his fingers, inducing him to take them into his mouth. Then again he stroked the nipple with his wet finger, making Martin hiss.
However, they were met here for another reason, Alan thought, and decided to stop the childish sports, he painfully grasped the nipple, he panting from the sharp surge of the excitement of his own now. Martin reacted unexpectedly. He somehow forced himself to bend slightly in Alan's dead grip and kissed his hand. Alan literally howled pushing him off, that was just a little bit too much for him right now. Martin could make him surrender very soon if he'd like, could make him a whining little boy melted down from the sweetest infatuation. But that wasn't the name of the game.
Alan made him go down on his knees, right in front of himself, forgetting the warmth that fulfilled them both before without a trace. His mind went blank. He made the lad give his head to him, he did that fairly cynically, though his partner's hands were bound. But Alan didn't bother, he was just too bored to care, he just floored him, straddled his chest fucking his mouth as if he was an inanimate object to him, his only worries was how to get ultimate pleasure and to go deeper if he could. Martin twitched under him, because of those amorous goings-on hold the big threat of suffocation. His stupid attempts to break away seemed to drive Alan wild.
He turned Martin to face the floor, jerked off his belt from his pants, eager to wreak his desperation upon him. He comprehend that those strange relationships with Martin, and its demonstrated cynicism, it became a real drug for them both. It was something that couldn't be ignored; it leads them toward, made them move in the right direction. It destroyed them and made them better at the same time, though that probably sounds like an evident paradox. Remove it and there will be an unbearable loss. Just like if you take off one of people's senses. He never thought he could loose it, but those strange interactions that were started between Martin and Dave filled his heart with fear. This fear was leading him into frenzy tonight, adding to the sexual enjoinment that brings him their usual intercourses an acute exacerbation of disrepair. It could be their last time.
The whistle of the belt cut the air and fell down to the tender skin of thighs and ass. Martin was thankful for that at some point, though somewhere deep inside he knew that it isn't right. Weirdly, physical pain set him free from this inner mental pain, making him crazy with titanic pressure. His brains took this physical pain like expiation for his own guilt, uncertainty and fear. Liberating him and giving him his consolation.
The blow itself didn't bring any pain, it just burned, making the skin feel numb, the pain came later, pumping up the body like a sexual stimulation harmonized with the excitement, making the body wanting more. Yes, evidently Martin was thankful that Alan had enough strength for that.
Alan was panting he was just physically tired, though far beyond horny, he was aware that it could be over sooner that it should be. There were some ideas yet that were left undone. He threw his belt aside, pushing something to the floor, he didn't care much. He turned Martin on his back, making him hiss when his bruised skin touched its surface. He took him with all unceremony that he ever had in him, very abusively letting his partner down with all his objections. Alan was overwhelmed with all that, so he just forgot himself. He dangerously stopped to feel the borderline between what was permissible and what was not. He just wanted Martin to remember him, to feel him more. Martin moaned under his insistent thrusts, biting his lower lip to suppress his moans, those brings another aggression attack on Wilder's poor brains.
- You fucker, I will make you scream or what?
He swiped him on his face, pilled himself out completely and thrusted himself into his body as to examine if his body would submit of his own will. He cried out, moving hips in hot frenzy, he couldn't hear another wail of rapture echoing his. He could feel only the atom bomb explosion inside him shattering his innards into elementary particles. Or so it felt.
When it was over, Alan fell down near Martin, hiding his face in his own hands, in time with the return of consciousness he felt the return of the shame. He freed Martin's hands, tried not to look at his face. He felt some sort of gratitude to Martin that he didn't say a word, after their so called love making. But he seemed to have the natural born feeling how to act in situations like that. So Martin just stood up silently, didn't even wince and went into the bathroom thoughtfully rubbing his numb hands. His facial expression was extremely nonchalant.
At the same time, about two blocks from them, Dave was shagging a poor girl with all his might. In a wild frenzy he vented all his accumulated aggression on the compliant and tender female body. He made her cry out his name and wriggled beneath him, like she wanted to break free from his overly ardent love embrace. It seemed that she already came, may be not once. But even the hidden pride of the fact that he`s done that, couldn't help him to return from his weird trance. So he gave little attention to her wails and scratching, he continued to fuck her hard, fascinated, grasping her legs by the backs of her knees.
When the inner pressure in his balls became unbearable, he let her legs fall down, pulled out his cock, and came onto her belly.
The girl seemed impressed by his solo performance tonight. She was lying beside him, talking nonsense, he was smiling and nodding from time to time. He kept calling her sweetheart and honey, although he couldn't remember her name at all. She were so touched by his way of his behaving, that he hadn't turned away and fell asleep right after, so she probably started to think that it was love. Dave was laying there staring at the ceiling, mechanically stroking her hair till she fell asleep. Then he thought he`s seen a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen.
He stood up, put on his underwear, carefully lying on the floor and then went to the kitchen barefooted. He poured himself a glass of whiskey; he stood near the sink, staring at the window behind it.
Black tree branches were waving threateningly, ragged storm-clouds were rushing through the night sky, hiding the pale face of the moon sometimes. The light was on in some lonely window in the house opposite. Someone might be suffering from insomnia just like him. Dave began to sing quietly the song that came into his mind all of a sudden.
Here is a plea
From my heart to you
Nobody knows me
As well as you do
You know how hard it is for me
To shake the disease
That takes hold of my tongue
In situations like these Shake the disease by M.L.Gore
Martin's voice. The voice. Of Martin. Understand me…Shit. Why didn't he realize this before? What if…if that was what Martin meant to say to HIM? Dave choked with the whiskey feeling the desire to verify the assumption that he made straight away. He fought himself for several minutes, kept staring at the storm-clouds, but the bad idea won, of course. He rushed to the telephone, hanging on the kitchen wall. His shaking fingers dialed Martins number. First time it was the wrong number, someone cursed him out and warned him that one will call the police if he wouldn't stop calling at three o'clock in the morning. No one picked up the phone at Martin's for a long time, but with the seventeenth ring Martin's landlady correctly answered him that Martin Gore hadn't been back tonight. Dave growled to himself but was thankful to the old lady for the answer.
He thought twice but then he called Wilder. Nobody picked up the phone for a long time once again but finally he heard Alan's sleepy voice.
- What the hell? - asked Alan with the same cheerful voice like other people say Hello.
Dave decided.
- Give me Martin. Now. I need him.
Alan looked at Martin's tired face; he was sleeping by his side.
- What makes you think that he should be here?
- I told you. Give me Martin, - Dave stubbornly repeated.
- He`s sleeping.
- Wake him up.
- Dave you're nuts.
- And I don't give a fuck. Where's Martin?
Alan sighed and touched Martin's shoulder, bringing the phone closer to his ear.
- It's Dave, - he explained his actions to Martin, still sleepy, - He`s nuts.
- Dave? - whispered Martin into the receiver.
Suddenly Dave feel that his own throat was paralyzed. He couldn't say a single word. Martin called his name again, but he couldn't say anything, oh, boy, and what was he going to say Martin, huh? When he was there, sharing Alan's bed. Good God, I am just a fool with stupid fantasies. Outsider. Dave threw the receiver and fell down on his knees right next to the wall, feeling teardrops rolling down his cheeks and falling onto his bare chest slowly and heavily, as it was his blood.
Martin jumped up off the bed, his need for sleep was completely forgotten, he dialed Dave's number but he wasn't there. He dialed twice but that was useless. He looked at Alan and then looked down, put his clothes on, and headed to the door. he was rubbing his neck in embarrassment. Alan was watching him, holding the blanket over his knees with his both hands.
- Where are you going? - He asked Martin's back.
Martin shrugged.
- I can`t stay here anymore. I have to go …I'm sorry, Alan.
- Fucking nuts, - Alan hurled just in time when Martin shut the door.
***
It seemed that he forgot to put his leather bracelet on today. Martin tried to hide the bruised skin of his hand with the other hand. It was cold in the kitchen and there were Elvis on the radio. Martin put his nose into the porcelain coffee cup thoughtfully. He nearly cracked his teeth with it when Dave Gahan appeared in a doorway. He tried to hide his hands under the table, but it was too naive to think that his motion would be left without Dave's attention. The other man came closer:
- So you like pain… - Dave grinned.
Martin raised his eyes to him, flared up, but said nothing.
- And I don't, - Dave added, his face and body were radiating pure aggression.
- What do you want? - Martin crossed his hands on a chest and stood up; feeling that air between them was filled with electricity again.
- Uh no, nothing actually, - … Dave, - What game are you playing?
- Playing? Me? - Martin asked, moving away from a table and stepping towards.
- It's impossible to talk to you, - Dave stepped back.
- Then you better don't, - Martin pulled down his hands slowly, - for I didn't ask for.
- Oh, I'm sure you didn't - Dave grinned - everything is so simple and facile in your world, Marty, you didn't ask, then why did all this happen?
- That is a very interesting question, Dave - Martin' eyes narrowed, - and what exactly had happened?
Dave came closer and took him by the collar:
- Who could believe that… - he said - Who could ever believe that if I fucked you then everything would be much easier. Huh…Alan's sense of humor is so wicked, as I can see… so that's where I fell short? Handcuffs? I should fasten you to the radiator, indeed.
Martin hit his face. Dave paid him back, and soon, both grappled they fell on the floor. After several minutes Dave managed to throw back his opponent, throw him to the fridge. He pulled his legs and sat quickly, expecting a new attack or ready for the next rush. But Martin was sitting near, rubbing his forehead and breathing heavily. He looked at Dave point-blank.
- Pain - suddenly he said very calmly as if they were having a gentlemen's dialogue over a cup of tea, as if they weren't thrashing each other a minute ago, intending to kill or to maim one another. - I'm always feeling this pain. Night and day, drunk and sober, and I don't like it, Dave. I do not like the pain too, Dave. I can't bear this. I just can't stand this emotional violence anymore. I can't. It's better for me to get in the face than to put up with it.
- Mart…
- I haven't finished yet. You're a nice person, Dave. I believe that you're sure you're doing alright.
- I'm not…
- Oh, please…be quiet, - Mart frowned, as if the sound of Dave's voice was paining him physically and closed up his ears, - shut up, Dave or I will never say that. When he determined to raise his head and to look at Dave, the other was looking at him point-blank.
- The reason is you, - Martin said and grinned when he saw Dave frowned - but at the same time by some weird paradox, that's not your fault. But you are hurting me. Just by the fact that you exist. When you're near and when you're away. But when you're away it becomes bearable at least. Let me go, Dave. This is the last time…damn, it seems to me that it was said before…
Dave was just sitting and looking at him. The meaning of Martin's words was reaching him very slowly as if it was going through the wadding. The idea of what was getting into his head seemed to him too incredible to believe.
It doesn't matter who of them was talking the last, but the fact that they were talking about the same thing was there. Dave had a lump in his throat again; he rubbed his face trying to catch his breath from what had happened.
- You fucking cunts! You both can`t be left alone even for a second, huh? - Furious Fletch rushed into the kitchen. Alan was there as well. He grinned but his face was as dark as the night.
Dave couldn't understand what to do next. But suddenly he felt that his fear became bigger and bigger. Before it was only desperation that's led him forward and the feeling that it just couldn't be worse. He was absolutely sure that he has nothing to loose. Martin's words made him think that now he HAS something. Dave was only sure that they needed to talk as soon as it possible. But the Talk was the thing that he feared most of all, considering the fact how hard it was for them to understand each other even with simple things. He made an effort to follow Martin on his way home, but … Fletch caught him by the hand and said that he'd call the police if he'd do that. And that Dave would be strictly guarded by them. Alan told that he would agree with Fletch. Dave was feeling rage burning inside of him because of that, he would definitely kick Alan's ass.
Fletch warned him that if he wouldn't stop it right now, he will sleep next to him tonight. Alan told him that probably they would need to visit a baby store to buy a soother. Dave told, that if Alan asked him so nicely he can give him something to suck for sure, and finally it was Alan who kicked his ass for that.
London's shows were good. Honestly they didn't expect such huge success.
A Journalist girl from a teen magazine interviewed them. Dave shined like a true star. He talked all possible bullshit with a phenomenal speed of two hundred words for a minute; it seemed that girl understood only one word out of five. Alan commented, occasionally, demonstrating his upper-class taste and origin. Martin leaned to Fletch`s shoulder, so frightened and tender, he seemed to be so embarrassed. The Journalist girl tried to make him say only one word but he only grinned sheepishly and his face was turning from red to pale.
- Why is it that your friend is so shy and quiet? - She asked waving her heavy painted lashes at Martin.
- It's just an illusion, - grinned Alan, - Still water runs deep.
They all snickered, even Martin, still eyes down.
- Decided to get a shag, calling for the mercy in her? - whispered Alan right into Martin's ear.
Martin laughed out loud and sounded very optimistic at that matter.
Miller has done a big after party, there were a lot of wine that was mixed with whiskey and beer.
They were all very tired, and Dave felt that his head was spinning. Fletch and Miller argued and gesticulated theatrically. One of their fans slept somewhere in the dark corner of the room, another two fans, girls were making eyes on David, he checked them but then decided that he`s not that drunk yet. He took a beer can and climbed onto the sofa with his boots. Alan was sitting on the top of sofa's back, reminding him of a mountain eagle.
- How are you? - asked Dave.
Alan shrugged his shoulders.
- Where's our girl?
- They are gone.
- They? - Dave set near Alan and took a sip of his beer.
- I'm gonna tell you the secret, - Alan leaned to his ear, - you know, today is the day when our Maestro finally found himself.
- Fuck me, - Dave nodded gloomily.
- He knows by now he`s a fetishist. And he hardly will survive this night, because of the girl's leather mini skirt. It is something that makes him crazy with longing and desire. He couldn't say exactly whereas it is the girl or if it is the leather skirt. But it doesn't matter. Well, and she… she just couldn't resist him. You know, how it happens usually, don't you? - Alan put his hand on Dave's shoulder, moving his finger tenderly up and down his neck, obviously mocking Martin - Oh, your skin is so smooth, so soft… what is it on...oh, your necklace. I am sorry I have terrible eyesight. Can I touch?
Dave laughed but shrugged. The touch sent shivers down his spine.
- Should I wear leather mini skirt then? - He said.
Alan hemmed and took away his hand. His features became aquiline again.
- Useless, David. God Moves in Mysterious Ways. - Alan finished his beer, - Listen. Forget about it, it would be better for you just to forget about it. Forget him. He`s not for you. Admit it, you are too honest and too open you are just too human for him. He doesn't understand you. And he never will. And you will never understand him. You will rip your heart apart, you will crash your head, and you will break your life and that'll be for sure. He`s too tough. There are lots of nice people around you, they can be more thankful for your feelings because…just because they need them more then he needs.
Although Alan's words felt so right, and frankly, they reminded him of his own occasional thoughts, but he looked at him, and the way he did was damn weird.
It was Miller actually. He told them to go to Berlin to make the next record. They discussed it again and again when they were at Fletch`s house.
- Could someone tell me clearly why the hell? - Fletch scratched his head - Like we forgot something in this shit hole.
Dave walked up and down and all around and the room. He was looking at Martin, and from time to time, at Andy. They were sitting so close to each other but there was absolutely no sign that they were aware of that fact. Fletch was in fashionable deadly green tight in the ankles trousers, Martin was wearing a baggy t-shirt, his hair was tousled, he was staring at the wall and thoughtfully biting off the cracked up black nail polish from his index finger. Virtually that was the only thing that was left from the journalist girl in his life. His thoughts seem to be so far away from here, maybe in Berlin, maybe further.
- Yokel, - Alan grinned, he was chewing Andy's sandwich, - Berlin is Berlin.
- Extraordinary, - Andy snickered, - Berlin is Berlin. Who would ever think? Berlin is Berlin.
Dave stood at the window and stared at the rain, falling down like the waterfall.
- Berlin is legendary place for every musician, Fletch, - Berlin for the musician it's like Mecca for a Muslim or Jerusalem for a Christian. Berlin is the city of the Legends. The Cradle of Modern Music. You see, even David Bowie did his record there….can`t you understand. Bowie himself.
- Iggy too, - suddenly Martin opened his mouth, - Idiot.
- Huh? - Dave frowned.
- It's the album title. The Idiot, - explained Martin, his look was incredibly abashed, and he began to bite his nail again.
- Which one? - Dave was puzzled, he turned to face him.
- One, they recorded together, - said Martin and then began to sing:
Well the day begins
You don't want to live
'Cause you can't believe
In the one you're with
Dave recognized the song. He slowly came closer and settled himself down near Martin onto the sofa's elbow-rest, joining in singing with him, shaking his head from side to side in tact with the music rhythm, thought he almost fell from the sofa with that motion so he had to take a strong hold of the sofa's back with his hand. He was aware that Martin will break away from him, but nothing's happened.
'Cause you know her tricks
And you know her past
When she makes a face
You just have to laugh
And you feel like such a know-it-all
When you only want just a tiny girl
And you hope she'll sing
The impression was, as if they both were spellbound by the melodic junction of their voices. Their voices were harmonizing and diverging apart from each other in the air then harmonizing again. Deeply sensual velvet of one's voice and bewitchingly piercing softness of another. They seemed to have nothing in common but although had the ability to sound together as if voices belonged to only person. Martin put his arm on his thigh and Dave almost jumped with the surprise.
So you turn around
Toward the tiny girls
Who have got no tricks
Who have got no past
Yea that's what you think
And you hope she'll sing
But she sings of greed
Like a young banshee
And she wants for this
And she wants for that
What did you think…* Tiny Girls (Bowie/Pop)
The telephone ring broke the silence suddenly, made them return from the trance they were into because of the music, and Alan almost choked with his meal. Fletch talked for a big amount of time, (the) other three just watched him in silence.
- Someone claiming his right for the last sandwich? - asked Alan, just in case, though he weren't longing for the answer.
It seemed that summer finally decided to visit Basildon. The skies became clearer. The weather was warm. Martin set on the couch, wearing shorts and t-shirt, playing something in country style, giving all his attention only for the strings of his new guitar. Dave walked around him, several times, deciding if to come closer or not.
He squatted down before Martin, clutched one hand with another. He was staring at his fingers on the guitar strings. Probably he could see neither fingers nor strings. He wrinkled his forehead and bit his lips giving out the unconceivable work of his own mind.
- Mind if I disturb you? - He whispered.
- Of course, not, - Martin shook his head and returned to the process.
Dave sat near him, inspired by his so called cordial welcome, touching Martin's leg by his hip and smelling his perfume. His was drowning and his thoughts lost their way and went astray.
- Mart, I was thinking a lot, you know…- finally Dave forced himself to start.
Martin turned his head and looked at him, but still he continued to play.
- Fuck it, - Dave said - I don't know how to do that. How to say it properly. How it is possible to say or how it is needed to be said. All in all, I don't know how will I manage to reach your ears at once, for sure quickly and completely, because I've been inventing hundreds of versions to start this talk, basically even thousands of them, because I had fucking plenty of time during this fortnight and I had nothing to do…
Martin was looking at him and waiting.
- I was thinking about apologies, but starting from our situation, it is silly, to be candid. I tried to say I didn't want to, - Dave laughed nervously - actually, I did want. And I do. But not exactly that, and not exactly that way. Something turned in my head inside out, because it isn't over. I don't know what to say, like I didn't mean it…well I don't know, perhaps you hold me like an idiot, as I am, and I don't want to intensify your impression in no circumstances. I can't talk even about the simplest things, generally. I should write a book - How to say hello and to get your ass kicked.
Martin grinned, his eyes lighted with an interest and he stopped playing.
- So… - Dave said. The silence in the studio embarrassed him suddenly.
- So? - Martin asked.
Dave was looking at him, and he was looking at Dave, without any blinking. Dave felt that with every second of silence, quiet imposed him, burying him harder and harder, he felt that his tongue wasn't obeying him anymore, and he admitted with regret, that if it'll go this way, the best and the biggest part of his speech won't be said.
- Could you…uh…rape me… or something?
Martin dumped the guitar on his leg.
- Fuck…
Dave fell on his knees, he realized that the time is up, he snatched the guitar from Martin's hands, throwing it away and stood between his hips, holding them with his both hands.
- Mart I won't bear if you pretend that nothing happened again. Please, understand me, that all I'm saying now is not a scheme or fine words. I can't stand it anymore. It's just-a… I will burst my veins if you feign that I don't exist. I am here. And I exist. And don't you say that's childish. I want to attract your attention. Oh, yes I do. And there are things that I can't endure anymore. Do something with me. Anything. You understand me? Do you? - Dave's voice rose - look at me, talk to me, shout at me, fuck me, don't push me aside as if I were leprous, touch me, damn you, kick me… I need to feel that you're near, I need to feel you. I need it. Need it, need it. Let it be hate, not love, but not indifference. I want to feel that it's not all the same for you. This is like a drug, I need it, I hate it, I'm sick with that I have to tell you this now, I'm sick with what I do, I'm sick with what I've done, but there's nothing to be done with me, I need it.
He cut off his monologue, Martin wasn't looking at him, he lowered his gaze, he was panting. Dave sat and felt that tears were coming to his eyes again. He condemnably looked at Martin's tanned knee.
- I'm not pressing, - he was exhausted - I'm begging.
Dave bent his head and touched naked knee with his lips, completely forgetting what he was about to say. He didn't understand what happened next. Immense power impact threw him off, pushed him to the floor, almost dislocated his shoulder with all that and pressed him down to the carpet.
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