Lucian Ch. 09

"Why?" Lucian echoed the question. "You mean: why did I refuse and run?"

Taylor hesitated. Then he nodded. His voice was a whisper.

"I saw you leave, Lucy," he said, making Lucian wince at the name. "You wore that lovely dress as you went down to the driveway where he held the door to his car. I was so jealous. And you looked so sweet and... ready."

Ready, Lucian thought. How does one look ready?

"He was a pig," he said, looking up from the mug. "I... well, I suddenly felt... disgusted."

Taylor's eyes opened wide.

"But... but he looked so... well, so..." he stuttered.

"Like a gentleman," Lucian filled in. "That was what Parker called him."

He took a sip from the hot tea. Then he put the mug down.

"I'm exhausted," he said. "I need to sleep."

Taylor rose, his long, beautiful legs unfolding.

"You shouldn't sleep alone," he said, reaching out to help Lucian up.

"I'm fine," Lucian said, allowing the boy to hold him as they went out to the main building.

He stumbled on his damaged heels, but the arm around his waist and the body he leant into spun a shell of warm safety around them both.

When they arrived at his room, Taylor reached down for Lucian's mouth and planted a lingering kiss on his lips, soft but insistent, slippery with gloss, tasting sweet... feeling wonderful.

"I have to be at the gate," he breathed. "But please know that we are all with you, Luce -- all of us."

When he was alone, Lucian plucked the remains of the once pretty dress off his shivering skin and took a long hot shower. The water cascaded over him as he let his hands wander, touching the blue bruises on his upper arm.

They hurt when he pressed them.

Shaking his head, he brought a finger to his chest, circling his nipples, finding his belly and cupping his tight and lonesome penis.

"Why?" Taylor had asked.

Why indeed?

He shut the shower, dried his body and rubbed it with lotion. Then he slid between the soft sheets of his bed.

He must have been sleeping for a bit -- or at least drifting in and out -- when he felt a warm body crouching against his back, followed by another sweet, naked body against his knees and arms.

***

Still an hour to go, Lucian guessed, back in the white Mercedes. The car joined a thinning stream of traffic on yet another interstate highway.

A nervous flutter touched his stomach as he imagined how his arrival would be at Norton's Academy.

"Please tell me, Ellis," he asked, making the Barbie-girl at the wheel take her eyes off the road, looking at him via the mirror. "How's old Parker?"

"She's fine," the girl said, smiling, and using the well-trained, breezy Norton-voice. "She told me to take you to her right away."

The pale, puffy face of Ms. Parker freed itself from the green blur of the passing landscape. It smiled. Of course it smiled, but there was a tension beneath the tired flesh that made the corners of her mouth tremble -- just like it did that morning after his disastrous date.

Knuckles had rapped on his bedroom door while he still floated in that boundless tropical sea we swim in before waking. A young voice informed him he should see the 'old cow' -- at once.

He'd been alone in the bed; the warm bodies were gone. Had they even been there? They might as well have been dreamlike phantoms.

As the sleepy bubble burst, colder memories rushed in.

Lucian sighed, throwing off the blanket. The ugly purple bruises on his arms had turned even darker. They still hurt under his fingers.

"Fucking bastard," he mumbled, pulling up a pair of pink shorts and finding a white top. Then he donned a long shirt and a pair of flip-flops.

Passing the mirror he had to stop, grab a brush and tame his riot of curls. Wetting a finger-tip he straightened his eyebrows. He pouted his lips, fluttering his lashes.

"What are you fucking doing?" he breathed. "It's only the cow."

He turned towards the door, but his hand had already grabbed a pink lipstick. Returning to the mirror, he painted his pale lips.

***

The principal had left her desk and was walking around it when he entered her office. She wore one of her usual panzer-suits, but her face was flushed and her lips trembled.

Stopping very close to him, her hand rose, but she checked it.

"Sit down," she hissed. Lucian sat down, crossing his legs.

"What happened?" she asked, still standing.

Lucian raised his arms to show his bruises.

"He also tore my dress," he added.

"That is not what he said," Parker answered.

Lucian shrugged.

"He said you were aloof and rude and fitful," the woman went on. "Not at all nice. You made a fool of him in the restaurant, threatening to take off your dress and blackmail him with that...

"Why on earth did you do that?"

Lucian shrugged again.

"He was a pig."

Parker stared at him, her mouth working like a fish on dry land.

"A... pig," she repeated. "I... I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate on that."

Lucian knew her irony was meant to patronize. He just shrugged again, making the silver cloud of his brushed hair dance on his shoulders.

Ms. Parker sat down on a chair next to him, rearranging her traits into what she maybe supposed to be her concerned face.

She took one of his hands in hers; they felt like warm dough.

"Mr. Martinez is a wealthy man who has been extremely good to us," Parker said, using what he called her motherly voice. It never suited her. "He is generous and defends us in circles that could harm us. Keeping him, well... pleased is very important. I thought you understood. I thought you were ready."

She sat straight and let go of his hand.

So the man was called Martinez; he never cared to introduce himself, Lucian realized; or asked for his name.

"What happened, Lucia?" Parker asked.

He felt nauseous as the air closed in.

"I couldn't do it," he said, his voice sounding distant.

"Do what, honey?" the woman asked.

He looked up, meeting the owlish eyes in their dark frames.

"You know what I mean," he said.

Now she shrugged, making her stuffed shoulders rise.

"Do I?" she asked. "I thought I sent a sweet, beautiful girl on a date with a wealthy gentleman, who took her to a very exclusive restaurant, where she would not just impress his peers as eye-blinding arm candy, but also entertain him with intelligent conversation, being just a wonderful, well-bred companion..."

"He fucked me with his eyes even before we arrived," Lucian said.

The silence lasted at least ten seconds.

"With his... eyes?" Parker then asked.

"He was very rude," Lucian went on, his voice almost a whisper now. "He said I'd be his daughter -- he'd be my... daddy."

Parker closed her eyes, frowning. Another silence fell.

"I told him I couldn't do it," Lucian explained. "I asked him to take me back here. He refused in an awful, humiliating way. That's when I threatened to show the restaurant my true gender."

Parker stared down at her perfect manicure.

"He tore up my dress," Lucian went on. "And he bruised my arms, pushing me back into my seat. That's when the waiter and the bouncer told us to leave."

His voice was monotonous as he went on:

"The man was very angry. Everybody in the restaurant looked as he pulled me to the exit while I tried to keep my torn dress closed."

Lucian shrugged.

"He dumped me at the junction, half an hour's walk from here, in the middle of the night, barely dressed and on my stiletto heels."

Looking up to find Parker's eyes, he concluded:

"He was not a gentleman, Ms. Parker."

The principal rose from her chair, never looking at the boy.

"You disappoint us all, Lucia," she said as she walked over to her desk. "Then again, maybe it was our fault as well. Maybe you weren't ready after all."

"Can I leave now?" he asked.

Parker nodded, but when he reached the door, she called him back.

"There is the matter of the money, of course," she said. "Mr. Martinez has retracted his generous donation because of your, well... let's call it attitude. I'm afraid it has to be replaced and I'm sure we will find a way, don't you think so too, Lucia?"

Lucian just stood and stared.

"Ah, and well," Parker went on. "Before having your breakfast, please see Dr. Kurtz, will you?"

***

The doctor's practice was the one room at Norton's that Lucian hated most -- Parker's office being a close second.

There were so many reasons for that aversion -- the cold neon light, the blue latex gloves shining with Vaseline, the shameless violation of every part and entrance of his body -- and mind.

And the gratuitous lying, of course.

Staring out of the comfortable Mercedes on his way back to Norton's, Lucian wondered why Kurtz had always assumed she could do whatever she deemed necessary to him. Was it the alleged suicide of her son that made her feel the ends were more important than the means? Or was she just, well, a mad scientist, like Joseph Mengele experimenting on children that could not escape her?

"Please sit down, Lucian," she said from behind her littered desk, wearing her white coat and her crooked smile.

He sat down on the stool in front of her, another source of ugly memories.

"So, you had a bad date, honey?" she asked, her hands busy sorting out some of the chaos on the desk top.

Lucian didn't answer; he just waited for the woman's eyes to focus on him. When they did, they were tired pin-points surrounded by puffy, crinkled flesh.

The doctor sighed, holding a piece of paper.

"I'll be honest with you," she said, putting some irony in her smile. "Ms. Parker asked me to prepare you for that date, so I did."

'Prepare,' Lucian thought.

"We had a deal," he said. "You'd always tell me about any medication or surgery you..."

His voice died away as the futility of his words struck home.

"Would you believe that I'm sorry?" she asked.

"What did you do to me?" he asked, ignoring her question.

She pouted her lips.

"Ah, honey," she said. "Let's not waste your time with medical jargon, more so because it didn't work, obviously. Please get up and undress."

The instruction was as natural and sudden as ever, and so was his response. He shed the shirt and peeled the top off his chest. Kicking off his flip-flops, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and pushed them down.

He wore no panties.

The doctor's smile was neither triumphant nor a sneer -- she was just her efficient self.

"Move onto the examination table, sweetheart," she said, wriggling her fingers into a latex glove. "No need to lie down, just sit and let your lovely legs dangle."

She shortly examined the bruises on his arm. Then she touched his knee.

"Spread, please," she said.

After he did, she reached for his stubby penis, letting it rest on the tips of her latex-clad fingers. The tiny head blushed against the pale skin of his body.

"It's small enough as it is," she mumbled. "Adorable, and yet..."

The fingers of her other hand pressed below the nub where an almost invisible line ran down his smooth crotch.

"Maybe removing your balls might do the trick," she went on, looking up and smiling. "Never heard they might be the cause, though."

Lucian closed his legs, slipping out of her grip.

"No," he said, his voice higher than he wanted.

Dr. Kurtz looked up with arching eyebrows.

"No?" she repeated. "I didn't realize you knew about things like that. Please explain."

He'd never known the doctor to be sarcastic.

"I," he said. "I mean: no, I don't want that."

She reached up and cupped his face with a gloved hand. Her eyes were very close; she smelled of soap and mint, the hand of rubber.

"Sweet Lucian," she said. "You know I would never do a thing like that without good reasons. And I promised to always inform you before doing anything, remember?"

Lucian snorted.

"Like you did when you prepared me for that pig," he gushed.

A hand caressed his left thigh ever so lightly. The doctor's face came even closer and her weak mouth touched his before he could turn it away.

Back in the Mercedes, on his way to Norton's, Lucian shuddered at the memory.

"What I love about you, honey," Dr. Kurtz said, "is your trust. Whatever I say or do to you, you keep believing me, don't you?"

Her latex-clad fingers turned his face back to her, pinching his chin between finger and thumb. He again smelled the sickening scent of rubber.

"So, how could you be sure I didn't already remove your sweet tiny balls?"

Her free hand pushed his thighs open and touched his bald, smooth crotch, prodding, pressing, while the other held his chin in a vise-like grip.

Her mouth almost touched his again, and the words hit him like a hot breeze.

"All you have, after all, is my word, sweetheart. And all you can do, really, is believe me. If you can't believe me, what's left?"

In the car, Lucian remembered how he'd brought up his hands to free himself from the doctor and slide from under her and off the table. He grabbed his clothes and ran to the door.

It was locked, of course.

"Let me out," he insisted, panting.

She stood with her arms folded under her breasts, her head tilted as she softly chuckled.

"Oh God," she said. "My sweet lovely darling. Of course I didn't take your precious balls. I know how important they are. How could you live without them? They make you all man, for sure. Don't you feel it? The power, the virility?"

She chuckled.

"Let me out," he said, using the ball of clothes to hide his crotch.

Dr. Kurtz produced a key.

"Of course I'll let you out," she said, completely serious again. "But first we talk. Sit down."

He put on the shirt and sat down on the stool.

"I guess I hurt you by joking about your virility and all that," she said, sitting down too. "I'm sorry, honey, I shouldn't be doing that, but I had a good reason."

Lucian stared at her, saying nothing.

"When you arrived at Norton's, Lucian," Kurtz went on, "you had this totally ridiculous image of yourself -- no doubt thanks to your father."

The doctor's voice was soft and motherly.

"You were a beautiful, sweet little girly boy to everyone who saw you -- except to yourself."

She rested a hand on his bare knee. He saw the glove had gone. She definitely was a nail-biter.

"You were a heartbreaking mess when you arrived, honey," she went on. "You didn't need those bullies or your father to destroy you; you were very capable of doing that yourself."

She softly tapped his thigh before he pulled it away and covered it with his shirt. She smiled sadly and shook her head.

"Even now, darling," she went on. "Even now you're blind, and I guess there is nothing we can do about that. We can protect you here against cruelty and hate, but not against your self-destruction. We can stimulate every wonderful feminine quality you have so abundantly, but we can't give you pride. We enhanced your beauty and your grace, but we can't give you self-esteem."

"I am not a woman," Lucian said hoarsely, his eyes down. He shook off the hand that reached for his face.

"But nobody wants you to become a woman, honey," the doctor said. "We want you to be who you are -- and proud of that."

Mumbo-jumbo, Lucian thought.

"Who I am?" he asked. "I saw those Boobs at the last reunion. I saw Drew growing tits and fucking fat men. I goddammit saw Charlie..." Lucian's voice rose as his face darkened. "You train us to become whores. That godawful date last night was nothing but a prostitute meeting her john to make money for you and your disgusting school."

Dr. Kurtz's hand disappeared.

"Gloria thought you were ready to entertain a man," she said in a small voice. "You seemed... willing."

Lucian jumped off the stool.

"Fuck you all!" he cried out. "Now let me out!"

He grabbed the key she was still holding and opened the door. Then he turned around.

"Stop lying to me," he said with a much calmer voice. "You are a doctor and Parker is a teacher for God's sake. I should be able to trust you, but all you do is fuck me up. You made me ready. You give me pills and injections and mess up my mind so I think I'm ready, but I'm not. I'll never be."

He walked out, leaving the door open. His bare feet slapped angrily on the wooden floor.

The doctor rose, walking over to her desk where she picked up a syringe. She sighed and put it away in the small refrigerator at the back of her practice.

"Damn you, Gloria," she mumbled.

***

The car hummed.

Focusing his eyes, Lucian started recognizing the countryside. This must be where he was picked up by the truck drivers. He shivered, remembering the cold and the desperation.

Escape, he thought.

Could one ever escape Norton's? He'd been to Paris, London, Milan, Los Angeles... He'd walked into the limelight and on catwalks, crossing red carpets. Around the world he'd been, twice, maybe. And yet, here he was, wasn't he? As if reeled in by an invisible fish rod, bouncing back on an elastic leash.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he said, caressing the girl's leg. "We should turn around and run."

Honor raised her sweet little face, her eyes huge with shock.

"Please no," she said.

Lucian chuckled.

"You really think we're stars, don't you?" he said, leaning down and kissing her.

"You are," she said. "You'll make all the Bobs and the Barbs and the Boobs squirm with envy."

Lucian sighed and looked outside again.

Remembering the days after he fled Kurtz's practice, he only saw a gaping space of nothing. He'd hidden in his room, barricading the door with his desk -- and chasing away every Bob or Barb that came knocking.

The second day he almost fainted from hunger. So, he pulled away the desk and opened his door.

There were three plates of food in the corridor. Seeing them caused a lump in his throat. He sank to his knees as tears leaked from his eyes.

Most people think that growing up is a slow and unsteady process, especially for boys. The juvenile brain lags behind the changes of the body until finally the twain meet to produce another balanced specimen of adulthood.

Maybe they're right, as far as usual processes could ever be applied to the bizarre world of Norton's Academy. And if they were right, that exact moment must have arrived for Lucian Gaines when he saw the food outside his door. It was put there no doubt by friends. Friends who were concerned with his welfare.

Friends who cared.

The adolescent's brain, experts say, can only revolve around its own precious ego. It needs growing up to appreciate the simple fact that other people exist and that some of them might even care for him.

Assuming they're right, Lucian's first tear must have been the baptism of his adulthood -- caused by the shocking surprise that he truly mattered to others.

He was not alone, and never had been.

Wolfing down the food, his mind expanded, encompassing Bobs and Barbs and even the teachers that made up his world. Of course, they'd always been there, but never inside him.

He never considered them a part of himself. They were over there, and he was here, wasn't it?

They wanted him to do things; they intruded on him, and hurt him. It was always he at the center and the others circling around him, like an anonymous pack of wolves. Some wanted to harm him and change him; others were just there, acting incomprehensible.

There had maybe been a first moment of change at the Bobs' dorm, living with the boys, but he'd still been the sun to their planets, hadn't he? The passive one they tried to do things to -- pleasurable things, but still.

Maybe he was this onion, and Drew had been the first to peel off a layer. Then there had been Harper and Charlie, but all they did was peel and expose -- they never reached his core.