Chastity Chronicles Pt. 03

Ben nodded and then he pointed at the video cameras. "You might want to check out the area cameras. All the warehouses have them for insurance. Oddly enough, all the ones pointing at this building seem to not be working."

The sergeant looked around and then smiled at Ben. "Good eyes, son."

"Thanks."

"My Ben is going into law enforcement at the state college this fall," I bragged.

The sergeant looked at Ben. "That right?"

Ben nodded and looked weirdly at me.

"My wife teaches one of the classes that'll be part of your curriculum."

"Cool," said Ben.

"Have a good night, folks. You can go now. We have it from here. Thanks again."

And that was it. After they took our particulars, I was dropped off at home by Ben and Adam, and moments later I was back in my condo looking at the walls. I lasted about thirty minutes before I called a taxi and rushed to the hospital.

No way was I allowing Billy to lie there without someone to look after him.

* * *

Of course, the hospital and the police watching over Billy wouldn't let me into his room. So, I parked myself outside his room in the hallway and refused to budge. I fell asleep there and slept a fitful night. By morning there was no change in Billy and his attending doctor took pity on me and sat next to me.

"Go home, miss."

"Nope."

"Who is this kid to you?"

"Someone who he reached out to for help, that's who."

"And by all accounts you did just that."

"Yes, I did."

"Go home. He won't wake for another day at least. He's been through a lot. It will take time. You being in the hallway doesn't change that."

I was exhausted. Beyond exhausted, actually. My emotions were whacked. So, like a damsel, I started crying. He held me until I stopped, then he stood up.

"Seriously, go home." He turned and walked away.

"Can you call me before he wakes? I want to be here when he wakes. Please."

The doctor didn't stop or even acknowledge me.

The cop by the door to Billy's room spoke. "We have your number. We'll be sure to call you, ma'am."

I looked at the cop like he was the best man in the whole world.

"You've a good heart, ma'am. We'll call you. I'll tell my relief."

The doctor kept walking.

I went home and slept for ten hours.

* * *

The next day, at two in the afternoon, the cop at the door to Billy's room called me. Billy was waking up!

I rushed to the hospital and up to his floor. His door was open, and I could see the sergeant from the other night inside talking to Billy, but I couldn't see past him to Billy. Another cop was standing nearby, taking notes. The doctor was on the other side of the bed with a nurse. The doctor saw me and mentioned it to the sergeant who looked back briefly at me before resuming whatever he was doing. He spoke to the other cop who then came over to the door. For a happy moment I thought they would let me in, but the cop closed the door with an apologetic look on his face.

"Fuck!"

I sat and waited. Eventually they finished, and I rose as they poured out of the room. The sergeant stopped me from pushing past him.

"Chastity, I heard you've been hanging out here. I checked up on you. You did only briefly meet Billy. So why all the sudden interest in him?"

"Sudden? I did tell you he ghosted me for a month? I've been trying to contact him for quite some time. He reached out to me for help! Me!"

The sergeant smiled a sad smile. "He only called you because your magazine had been hounding him and it was the only number he remembered."

"He called me by name when he called me, sergeant. He knew I'd help him."

"Why you?"

"I help young men. Um, that sounds bad."

"It sure does. Anyway, he asked to speak to you. He's waiting inside. Be gentle, he's still messed up. He looks terrible. He was beat badly, and he's badly bruised."

"What about his parents? Family?"

"He was in foster care for most of his life. His parents were killed by a drunk driver. No other family. At eighteen, he was no longer in foster care. He's been couch-surfing with the few friends he has. He disappeared about a month ago."

"A month ago? That's when I met him and told him to contact me."

"You did that at the gala, correct? In front of multiple witnesses, including Carl Benoit?"

"Why, yes."

"It's probably what got Carl Benoit interested in him. Billy confirmed it."

I held my hand to my mouth. "I'm to blame for this?"

"No. Carl Benoit is. Let me be clear, this is on Carl Benoit. You merely alerted him to what talent Billy has. So, he had him paint for him. Forcibly. The loft in the warehouse has a dozen fresh paintings all done by Billy. Or so we think. We'll need to verify that."

My mind reeled. I was to blame, regardless of what the sergeant said. I could have been more discrete, but I had to show off that night at the gala. Oh, Billy!

The sergeant asked me something I missed. "Pardon?"

"I was wondering if your magazine could verify the paintings as Billy's. He doesn't remember painting them but says they're in his style. It would help to get a professional opinion for the courts."

"Oh, I can do that. It's what I do, really."

The sergeant smiled. "I knew that. I was hoping you would agree. My staff will be in touch. I can arrange for you to inspect the paintings."

"You said they were fresh?"

"Yes."

"Any done in the last seven days can't be moved. They won't be dry."

"They're all still at the warehouse."

"All right."

"Thanks again, Chastity. You can go in and see Billy now."

"Thank you, sergeant."

"John."

"Thank you, John."

"My pleasure. The force owes you. We're still investigating what occurred in that loft. It's all very strange."

"Please tell me Carl Benoit is truly fucked."

"Time will tell. There's really no more I can tell you."

"Wonderful."

"Have a nice day, Chastity. We'll be in touch."

The sergeant moved aside, and I could finally see into Billy's room. He was looking right at me and smiling. His face was a canvass of blues, purples, and reds. It was garish and horrible and looked so painful. His right eye was swollen shut.

"Billy!" I cried and rushed into the room. I went right up to his bed and reached out and touched his hair. "Billy, you look like shit. Do you know that?"

He laughed and then winced. He nodded.

"Can you talk?"

"Y-es."

It sounded like a croak. I looked around and spied the plastic covered cup with a bendy straw. It had water, and I grabbed it and offered it to him. He took a long sip and then released it. He gasped and smiled.

"Thanks. That's better. It's good to see you."

"You too, but not like this, Billy! I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry for what?"

"It was because of me that Carl took an interest in you."

Billy tried to shake his head but stopped and winced again. "No, not true. He already knew. He bragged to me about it. Said it proved he knew talent, not like what you said that night at the gala."

"I don't think so. The police just told me I queued him to you."

"No. Earlier that night, Carl had said he wanted me to accompany him to a warehouse. Said he had a place for me to paint in quiet."

"Really. Don't blame yourself."

"It's hard not to."

"Don't. You saved me."

"You did call me."

"I did? The police said that, but honestly, I don't remember calling you. I'm glad I did."

"It wasn't just me, my friend Ben and his dad, Adam, helped too."

"I would like to meet them."

"You will. I'll make sure of it. They can meet you at my place once you get out of here."

"You're place?"

"Yes, John the policeman told me you're couch-surfing."

Billy looked embarrassed.

"It's true, isn't it? You left foster care into nothing. Correct?"

"Yeah."

"So, you'll come spend time with me. Only until you get your feet back on the ground, and Billy, with your talent and my connections in the art world, you most surely will land on your feet."

"You're like an angel..." He was looking at me with something like worship.

"What do they have you on?"

"Dunno. It's nice..."

"Sleep, Billy. I'll start to make arrangements with the hospital. When you're released, you'll come home with me. Okay?"

He didn't answer. He was asleep with a cute smile on his face.

* * *

Okay, so then a bunch of stuff happened. Billy was released three days later from the hospital. Ben and his dad were there to help bring him to my place. Billy still looked like crap, but he had more energy and smiled a lot. Ben and his dad kept looking at me weirdly. I guess it's not every day a forty-year-old woman brings a young man she doesn't know into her home. I reminded Ben of his experiences and he shut up.

Ben had the nerve to ask me what my intentions were with Billy, and I told him to mind his own business. He didn't look happy, but after a light meal at my dining table, which was seeing much more action lately, they left me with Billy.

The police contacted me about verifying Billy's work and after they gave me a sample of the art Billy had shown at the gala; I went down and looked at his paintings at the warehouse. They had moved them all down to the first floor of the warehouse, saying I didn't want to see the room where they had kept Billy in.

It didn't take long. It was his work. They were fantastic. It was hard to believe these were the same paintings as the poorer quality from the gala. His strokes were bold but precise. His use of the oils was masterful. His lighting and shadowing were magnificent. Billy had talent. I was impressed.

Billy slept a lot for the first week. I looked after him hand and foot. I brought him meals. I bought him clothes and washed them when he needed them cleaned. I was starting to suspect something and when I found him on my PC playing a video game; I had enough. I marched him into the living room and sat him down.

"Enough Billy."

"What?"

"You're being lazy. Time to man up. You need to start painting again."

"I don't have anywhere to paint. Or paints. Or canvasses." He shrugged.

"I can arrange a place and help you with supplies. A loan until you get your feet under you."

"Um, sure."

I rocked back on my ass on the couch. "That's it? Sure?"

He shrugged.

I discovered something new about my feelings. I was quite capable of being disgusted by young men.

"Billy, is there something you want to tell me?"

"Huh? No."

I was hoping for maybe a thank you. I growled.

"Okay, I'll ask around and see if I can borrow a paint studio for a few days. They'll have supplies. We can start there. Does that sound okay?"

"Sure."

I stared at him for a long moment and then rose and left the room. For a moment, all I could think about was throwing him out on his ass. He was infuriating. My third student was a huge disappointment. In fact, the thought of anything sexual to do with Billy repulsed me.

In shock, I heard my condo door open and close. I came back out and found him gone.

"What the fuck?"

Six hours later, Billy came sauntering home. He buzzed the door at two in the morning. I let him in and watched as he staggered into my home. It took me about ten seconds to realise he was stoned out of his mind.

"Heeey, Chassy. Fuck, you're hot! Those tits..." he cupped fake tits on his own chest. "Like, wow!"

"Billy, what are you on?"

"On? Nothing, man. High on life!"

"You're high all right."

"Pfft. It's the life of an artist, right? Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, man! You've got to suffer to be an artist, am I right? And I have suffered!"

"That's not true. Joyce's novel was about the artist needing to free himself from limiting pressures. Far too many people believe that drivel about suffering."

"What, no! It's true."

"No, it's not. Go to bed."

"I'm not tired. I want to party. It's why I came home! I want to party with you! You're fucking hot!"

"That's never going to happen. Go to bed."

Billy moved toward me, arms outstretched, and making horrible kissy faces. I backed away.

"Stop, Billy. Don't do this!"

"Come on! Kiss me! Man, I want to fuck you. I bet your cunt's delicious."

"Stop, Billy!"

He kept coming toward me, so I kicked him right in the nuts. Really hard. I needed him put down and down he went. He dropped like a rock, curled up in a foetal position, vomited once, and passed out.

I cleaned him up and put him to bed.

Then I called Ben. He came over at once.

"Ben!" I cried when I opened my condo door.

"Where is he?" he growled and pushed past me and headed toward the spare room.

I ran and grabbed his shoulder. "Stop! He's passed out in bed. Don't do anything! It's not worth it! BEN!"

He finally stopped, his hand on the doorknob to the spare room. His face turned to look at me and I was shocked at the anger there. He was capable of anything.

My Ben could kill someone, I thought and was embarrassed when that turned me on more than it should.

He looked down at his white-knuckled hand on the doorknob and slowly opened his fingers. He took a step back and looked away from me. "He needs to leave. He can't stay here anymore."

"I know."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know right now. This is a mess. Look at me, Ben." He wouldn't turn to look at me.

"He is a drug addict, isn't he?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Probably always was. It would explain his foster family throwing him out. Probably couldn't wait to get rid of him."

"Ben! We don't know that. Why won't you look at me?"

"Ask that sergeant to look into it."

"I will."

"Chastity, you need to stop with these charity cases. You're going to get hurt!"

"Ben, it's who I am!"

He finally turned to look at me. Tears streamed down his face. "I can't see you get hurt, Chastity! I couldn't bear it!" His voice broke.

"Oh, Ben!" I stepped up to him and wrapped him in my arms. "My Ben!"

He cried on my shoulder, his whole body shaking, and I held him for as long as it took.

An hour later, as he came inside me, looking down and into my eyes, he confessed his love for me. We made love for hours. I simply couldn't get enough of his big cock. And strong hands and fingers.

But I could never love Ben the same way he loved me.

When he slept, I cried for myself.

The next morning, we waited for Billy to emerge from his room. When he did, he was surprised to see Ben. He smiled at him.

"Oh hi, Ben. What are you doing here?"

Ben exchanged a look with me. This was strange.

I patted the sectional. "Come sit here, Billy. Do you remember last night?"

Billy stayed where he was and looked at Ben and then at me. "What is this?"

"Billy, you came home high as a kite last night at two in the morning."

"I did? Yeah. Sometimes I do a little bit of drugs."

"Do you remember what you did when you got here?"

"Ah, no? Why? What happened?"

Ben growled. "You tried to rape Chastity!"

Billy looked shocked.

"Ben! No, he didn't. He just got overly friendly. It wasn't rape, Billy. It wasn't! Ben! You agreed to let me handle this. Now shut up!"

Billy looked around like he wanted to run.

"Billy, it's okay. You just scared me last night. That can't happen again. You can't be doing drugs."

"Okay."

"Saying you're sorry would be appropriate right about now."

"Sorry."

"And mean it."

"I'm sorry!"

I looked at him. He had had this type of conversation before. I was sure of it. "Billy, were you doing drugs while in foster care?"

"Yeah."

"Is that why they threw you out when you turned eighteen?"

"Yeah."

"Then you met Carl, is that right?"

"Sorta but yeah."

"Sort of? Why sort of?"

"I was hooking up with one of those rich bitches. She was taking care of me. You know. Taking care of me? She saw I could paint, and that led to Carl. She's real friendly with him."

"So, Carl helped you out?"

"Yeah. He set me up in that loft. I could paint when I wanted to. He gave me drugs."

"Why did he do that?"

"I, ah, paint better when I'm high."

A light dawned. "And the work at the gala? Those were your paintings when you weren't high, were they not?"

"Yeah, how'd you know that?"

"But they beat you, right?"

"Yeah, they did."

Ben spoke this time. "Why? Why would they beat you?"

"I ah, I don't remember, but they say I hit on one of those rich bitches' daughter. Sandra or something. I don't remember. She had a thing for me. Kept coming round to watch me paint. I painted her nude once. That was sweet. She let me eat her out after."

"And the night you called me," I said. "Do you remember anything from that night?"

"I got some new drugs. They kinda fucked me up. I remember thinking about you, is all. I could still see you at the gala, dressed to kill, looking so much more prim and proper than the rest of those rich bitches. And you knew my name! That was powerful, you know."

"But they beat you worse than ever that night."

"Yeah. It might have to do with Sandra. She had come by that morning. She wasn't supposed to."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing! Nothing she didn't want. I mean she came back, right?"

I nodded. It took everything I had not to scream and put down this piece of shit. He had talent all right. But he was bad through and through. The world could do without his art. I would make sure of it.

"Thanks, Billy. Can you go to your room for a bit? I need to talk to Ben alone, if you don't mind."

"Sure thing. I'm sorry, Chastity."

That wasn't sincere, but I nodded at him.

As soon as he left, I took out my phone and dialled a number. It rang three times before it picked up.

"Sergeant John Clarke, how can I help you?"

I looked at Ben and he smiled.

* * *

Two days later I accepted a strange invitation and walked into the Auberge Pastry. I was guided to a table where Sandra's mother waited for me. She rose on seeing me and we air kissed for all the other patrons to see. Even when you didn't like someone, you acted the part. Optics are everything.

"Chastity, please sit and join me. I'm so glad you accepted my invitation."

We sat, and I smiled at her. A practiced smile, meant for these occasions "It's Diane, isn't it?" Of course it was. I had screamed it out at the gala.

"Yes."

I waited, and the waiter hovered nearby. Whatever she wanted to say, I wouldn't start it.

Diane turned to the waiter, and he approached. She looked at me. "Is high tea acceptable?"

I adored high tea and simply nodded once, rather than clap my hands and shout "Yeah!"

She looked at the waiter and he nodded and left. Words apparently were not needed here. I looked around the place. It was full of the rich and not much else. It had one of those fake Paris cafés look about it. I would rather be eating a cheeseburger with Ben.

We were back together. At least for now. It couldn't last and I couldn't let it last. I would need to break it off, but only after he filled me a few more times. I knew it was wrong, but I still wasn't over him and after everything that had happened, I needed his strength. God, he made me feel safe. God, I was fucking up with him.

Diane was fidgeting. I ignored her. She wanted something from me. I just didn't know what.

We sat in silence until the high tea arrived. It looked lovely. A silver stacked tray rose high with beautiful little sandwiches and pastries perched for our oral amusement. Then a silver tray of steaming scones, a bowl of strawberry jam, and another bowl with Devonshire clotted cream were placed on the table. My mouth filled with spit.

Tea was poured into fine China cups and made to our tastes.

I sipped and then grabbed a sandwich and bit into it. Cucumber with English mayonnaise and no crusts. It disappeared far too quickly, so I grabbed another. Smoked salmon. Oh, my fucking God these were good.

"I see you have an appetite," said Diane, watching me.