Continuing from yesterday...

Simon is talking to Walstead and Manville prior to the beginning of his trial, and they threaten to use his art against him.

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“He’s a very up-to-date kind of guy...” 

I chuckled. “Up to date? What? Are we in the Fifties?” 

“I just mean, he’s not...he’s not some innocent, not unaware and...and even he was freaked out. Said it all got brutal in the...how’d he put it...non-con area. He told me about one...” 

He held up a printout of one page. Ray Who Was Taken. Just the first section, since it had spread over nine pages, with a midnight-style sketch of a man grabbing a younger man...

The hour was late before Ray headed home 
From the party his best friend had held at Le Dome. 
The blues and the blacks of the night's monochrome 
Made him feel so easy, he thought he would roam 
Since he had a condo that wasn't too far. 
But he didn't notice when that big blue car 
Pulled out of the parking lot next to the bar 
And quietly followed. Its back doors ajar. 
He passed his street and as he started to turn 
For the park, the car pulled up. Now too late to learn 
The four men inside of it each had a yearn 
To force Ray to join in their weekend sojourn. 

He continued with, “It made me wonder if you planned to get Paley back to your hotel. Drug him. Abuse him.”

I rolled my eyes and closed my laptop. It was nearing ten a-m and obviously these two would not let me do any work, so I said, “That comment is why you should have purchased a copy of my coloring book, for yourself. Then you’d have seen in all the artwork I do that every one of the men who’re kidnapped and abused are well-built. With hair on their chest, legs, arms and belly. All around the age of thirty. Good strong features and a thick mane on their head. Paley is their polar opposite, except in age.” 

“He’s well-built.” Now it was snottiness from Manville. 

I cast her a cool glare. “He shaves the hair off his body. Including his pubes. I think it’s to de-emphasize the growing male pattern baldness.” 

“How do you know that?” Walstead asked. “Are you going to claim he exposed himself to you?” 

“Oh, stop it. He was dressed in a white wife-beater, that night, and it was probably a size too small for him. It was easy to see the stubble on his chest and belly and...” 

He cut me off with, “That doesn’t mean anything.” 

“His beard does. It was beyond being a five o’clock shadow but not quite scruff. And what hair was on his head was thick, except for that little tuft he has in the center. He also has some on his shoulders...the trapezius, I think it’s called...and at the nape of his neck, where he can’t reach with a razor. There was more stubble on his forearms, but none in his pits. Which he did exhibit. I despise that. It’s as if he wants to come across as a little boy instead of an adult.” 

He shook his head. “You also called him a juice junky, which he does not look like. And besides, steroids are illegal, for muscle enhancement...” 

“Oh, that’ll stop it.” 

Manville circled around in front of me and... 

And suddenly Alain was double-teaming me. With two friends of his and...

I jolted, shaken. I hadn’t thought about that time in years and...

“What makes you think he uses them?” she asked, her voice far too deliberately casual. 

It still came out of nowhere. And she was still moving in that way so I had to close my eyes so I couldn’t see. Mentally, I knew it was not deliberate on her part, but inside was a growing sense of panic remembering... 

Arriving home... 

Not knowing Alain knew my extra key was taped on top of the door frame... 

And he...he and them said they were playing a game but...but...

No. 

Fucking no. 

I fought to back away from those memories. I did not want that shit to rock me, not at that point in time! No. No fucking way.

No!

I forced my eyes open and pulled a pen from my backpack and dug it into the palm of my left hand. It hurt like hell, and it was still a fight to kick away that chaos, but it jolted me enough to where I could make myself start to breathe normally, again.

I looked straight at Manville, and I would almost swear she was studying me. Like I was a insect. I glanced at Walstead and his expression was one of wariness. They’d both noticed my actions, of course, and both had wary expressions. Suddenly I got the idea they didn’t see me as human but just some beast they were having to deal with. As if I was rabid.

At that moment, I couldn't swear that I wasn't.