The Professionals Circuit Archive - Escape Route	 Escape Route

 

by O Yardley

  
 *Party Spirit series #15: After "Involvement"*


*You handled my little outburst well, Bodie, I'll give you that; all your
tact and aplomb well in evidence. Embarrassed the hell out of you though,
didn't I, running off at the mouth that way. Probably frightened you
silly, wondering what on earth I was going to come out with next. Undying
devotion or something equally nauseating. And you didn't even laugh,
though I wouldn't blame you if you had. Must've looked a right wally,
shaking and gettin' all misty-eyed over almost seein' you blown to
smithereens. Cowley's finest, that's me.

No, you didn't laugh, not the tiniest snigger. Just hauled me off to bed
and got down to basics, 'ad your evil way with me. Used me, didn't you,
Bodie! Knew I wasn't going to say no. Knew you'd found a door mat you
could wipe those well-bulled shoes of yours on whenever it takes your
fancy. Oh! you made it good for me, too. Always the gentleman. Bet you
always make it good for your birds as well. Treat 'em right and they'll
beg for more ...

Only I won't, Bodie. Not me. Not your partner. So I'll find someone else.
Someone I c'n get serious about. Someone you'll 'ave to take seriously ...

And she was perfect. Absolutely right. Beautiful and bright and ...

She didn't like you, Bodie. Did you know? Didn't like you one bit. Thought
you were everything I wasn't - until she found out differently. Until she
found I was just as ruthless as you, just as hard. That I'd use anyone I'd
'ave to, same as you do ....

Oh, Ann! I'm sorry. It never would 'ave worked out. But I tried, tried to
make my escape, to lead an ordinary life in an ordinary house on an
ordinary street ... without Bodie ... *


"You're very quite this evening," Bodie said, plonking another pint down
in front of me.

"Am I? Sorry. Can't sparkle all the time, even for you."

Gritted my teeth at the look I got, patient understanding not being the
expression I'm most used to seeing on Bodie when he looks at me. I was
starting to get fed up with it, wishing he'd stop fretting over what he'd
had to do to Ann and me. Short memory, that's his problem. Tit for tat,
that's all it was, after all. 

 "Two days off," he said, rubbing the back of his hand over his upper lip
to wipe off the froth mustache clinging to it. "Got any plans?"

"Nothing I couldn't put off if something better turned up. Just washing
and shopping and cleaning and all that boring stuff," I expanded in answer
to his raised eyebrow.

He groaned. "Me too. Christ! the life of the bachelor about Town ain't all
it's cracked up to be, is it! Tell you what, why don't we do the cleaning
together? I'll come over and help you at your place and you lend a hand
with mine."

"How bad's your place?"

"Suspicious bugger, aren't you. No worse than yours when I saw it last."

Guessing that whatever protest I made Bodie would have an answer for I
shrugged and gave in; it'd be easier in the end.

He was on my doorstep by late morning, arms full of shopping half of which
he crammed into my fridge to keep until he was ready; the rest he dumped
on the kitchen divider.

"I brought a French loaf and some duck pate for lunch. I'm starving."

"After the cleaning," I said, foiling his attempt to lay hands on my bread
knife.

"Ah, come on, Ray. Can't expect me to work on an empty stomach ... Just an
end off the loaf'n a bit of pate to keep me going. Yeah? Besides, if we
eat first it won't matter if we drop crumbs everywhere."

"Oh! all right. But no lying around on the settee afterwards, complaining
you're too full to move."

"Would I?"

"Would rain fall?"

But I've always been a sucker for that wide-eyed wounded look and the
bugger knows it. He was getting plates out before I'd had time to gather
my thoughts.

"Supper at my place," he said, masticating a huge chunk of bread and
looking like a hamster with eyes bigger than its cheek-pouches. "I've got
all the makings." He indicated his purchases.

"Provided you're cooking. I've had enough of bein' chef lately."

He paused in breaking off another portion of bread and sort of peeked at
me. Can't describe it any other way -- as though he was trying not to let
me see he was looking at me. He'd been doing that far too often in the
weeks since Ann walked out and I getting heartily sick of it. I said so -
unpleasantly.

He mumbled, "Sorry," and stared down at his plate.

Christ! things were coming to a pretty pass if Bodie'd back down that
fast. Get stroppy with him normally and you wind up losing half your front
teeth. He'd taken everything I'd thrown at him, including a sock on the
jaw, and maintained a sweet reasonableness that was beginning to unnerve
me.

"Finish your lunch," I told him, getting on with my own.

I'm glad to say his appetite didn't seem impaired by his guilt complex.

He was right about the cleaning being less of a chore with two of us. We
set the record player going full blast but drowned out all the best tracks
with the vacuum cleaner, so we put the same records on at Bodie's and
missed the same numbers all over again.

By 7.00 I was knackered and filthy and I made for his shower, refusing to
help chop onions.

"I 'ate peelin' onions," he said, doing his best to look plaintive. "Make
me eyes run something chronic, they do."

"Try peelin' 'em under water," I said, disappearing swiftly.

So what does the silly sod do? Appears in the bathroom and gets in the
shower with me and starts peeling onions. It was a fairly hectic ten
minutes.

Did you know you can dye things a lovely yellow with onion skins?

I was laughing so much I could hardly stand up and Bodie was in no better
case. Inevitable in a space barely large enough for two consenting adults
we ending by propping one another up in a sexless but very comforting
huddle.

I'd never have shared laughter like that with Ann; she'd have though it
all very childish and undignified. Not that she didn't have a sense of
humour, she did, but it was for words and things of the mind: people were
supposed to be serious, adult and sophisticated.

I did say it never would have worked, didn't I!

Bodie handed me a vodka and orange juice when I wandered into the sitting
room after toweling my hair dry and I sank into an armchair feeling
exhausted from laughing so much.

"Poor little flower," he said, grinning at me from the kitchen doorway.

"Just get the supper," I told him, waving a languid glass. I licked the
spillage from my forearm and looked up to find his eyes on me and a look
in them I couldn't read. I lay back, dozy and contented, glad to get back
on an even keel and stop fretting over what I couldn't have.

So Ann was just an escape route that had turned out to be dead end; well,
I could live with that, there'd be someone else, some day, and when she
turned up I'd walk off with her into a pretty sunset and forget there was
ever a blue-eyed, devil-browed sensualist called William Andrew Philip
Bodie.

"Candles?" I said, eyeing the table when summoned to 'come and get it'.

"Brother, forgot the finger bowls. Shall we slum it tonight and use paper
napkins, me lud?"

"Suits me, Jeeves. Crikey, is that smoked salmon I see?"

It was, served with lemon, freshly-milled black pepper and wafer thin
brown bread and butter.

"Bloody 'ell." I viewed my portion with awe. "There's enough for three
'ere."

"Any you can't manage ..."

"Yeah, yeah!"

I ate in reverent silence and drank my share of the well-iced Chablis
along with it. A bottle of Medoc accompanied the steak and ratatouille
that followed.

"Had enough?" Bodie asked as I laid down my knife and fork.

"Have you got any more?"

"Not steak, no."

I stared at him and caught a shifty look in his eyes. "You've been and got
some gateau," I accused him. Bodie's weakness is cake.

I surrendered half way through my slice, rich coffee cake smothered in
mocha chocolate not being my idea of heaven and watched, unsurprised,
while Bodie demolished it for me.

"Cheese?"

I was about to say no but he produced a piece of dolcelatte, knowing my
weaknesses as well as I know his. I raised my eyebrows though, when a
bottle of vintage port appeared at my elbow, ruby in the candlelight.

What the hell was Bodie up to?

And he said 'no' when I offered to wash up.

"Not that much to do--I'll do it while the coffee's perking."

Proper coffee an' all--definitely seduction time.

I pondered the idea, carrying my third glass of port to the sofa. I'd
certainly drunk too much to please the policemen with their pretty
balloons so I was either going to have to stop over or go home by cab, and
usually when we stayed over these days we ended up having it off; I'd
never made any protest up to now so it was a bit late to begin. Wasn't it?
Might only end up ruining the good rapport we have when we're working and
I didn't want to do that. A permanent girlfriend or wife Bodie would've
understood; me suddenly going coy on him he wouldn't.

Anyway, the sex had always been good between us so it didn't take much of
a struggle to decide I'd give in gracefully and enjoy watching an expert
hand out the treatment. Might even pick up a few tips for varying my own
routine, Bodie having an enviable reputation when it comes to pulling the
birds.

His technique was perfect, couldn't fault it. Know your subject's what it
boiled down to, and Bodie knows me inside out. Didn't put a bloody foot
wrong or ruffle any of my feathers. Suave devil. Daresay he guessed it
wouldn't take a lot to put me off and he trod very, very carefully. In
fact he was so damn subtle that half the time I forgot I was being
softened up for the kill.

Soon after half past ten he asked coolly, "How'd you feel about an early
night?"

"Suits me."

"And a good long lie-in tomorrow as well, so don't go waking me up to come
out running because I shan't be impressed."

"You feeling tired?"

"Not yet," he told me, and for the first time the gleam in his eye was
unashamedly open.

We undressed without a lot of fuss, neither of us being over-fond of
scenes, but in spite of our outward appearance we were both avoiding the
other's eye for all we were worth. *If only, * I thought savagely,
chucking my shirt on a chair, *we'd ever got round to talking about what
we're getting into we might find it easier to deal with! * Being the
strong, silent type may come easy to Bodie but it was doing nothing for my
self-confidence as I climbed into bed beside him.

His gentleness almost finished me, having an underlying arrogance that was
all his own and to which I had no defence. I could feel a suspicious
prickling in my eyelids as he worked me over, but his hands and mouth soon
had me flying too high to care if I burst into tears or not. I waited,
quivering, prepared to let him do whatever he wanted.

The pause lengthened, urgency inevitably fading, and I raised my head.
Bodie was frowning.

"Gone off the idea?" I enquired with some acidity and received one of
those looks of ineffable contempt at which Bodie is a master.

"One of your dumber suggestions, Doyle."

"Then what are you hanging about for?"

"Waiting for you."

"For me?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm here, aren't I!" I have it a touch of belligerence, only to be
disarmed by one of Bodie's surprisingly sweet smiles.

"I 'ad noticed. Be hard to miss, the noise you make. 's very gratifying
gettin' a response like that."

"So why did you stop if it was that good?"

His eyes slid away and he picked at the edge of the pillowcase. At a loss?
Surely not!

"Thought per'aps it was getting a bit one-sided if you know what I mean.
Wanted some of what you'd been 'avin'," he said eventually.

Maybe I had been being a little selfish although I hadn't thought of it
that way until then: plus--and that it hadn't occurred to me before's a
sure sign I was mentally way under par--it wouldn't do either of us any
good to let Bodie think he had control of matters even if it was only in
bed. So I roused myself and got on with the job of showing off my own
considerable expertise and very satisfying it was too, watching him
thrashing about, gasping and ordering me around and swearing at me when I
didn't do what he wanted and breaking off to gasp a lot more when what I
did do turned out as good or even better. I was beginning to feel
positively smug until he squirmed over onto his stomach and peremptorily
told me to get on and do it. I only just stopped myself asking 'do what?'

He craned his head round. "Go on, what's keeping you?"

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, for god's sake, Doyle..."

He felt good under me, firm, warm and moist; a trickle of sweat lay along
his spine. But he was tight and tense, so tense I wanted to stop, forget
all about it if he'd rather, but when I suggested it he growled at me so
fiercely I carried right on, burying myself deep in his body. 

We lay like that for a while until he demanded rather tersely whether I
was intending to take all night.

Tried to snake a hand underneath him but he knocked it away, muttering
something I didn't catch, and then he wriggled just enough to send me over
the edge...

Felt him trying to throw me off but it was several seconds before I could
rouse myself to clamber off him; as I did so he turned his head away and
sort of curled in on himself. 

"Bodie! Bodie, you all right? Bodie?"

"Course I'm all right," he said at last. "Takes more than a little thing
like that--like you--to do any damage. And will you stop groping me," he
added plaintively, fending me off for a fourth time. It was too late
though, I'd found out what I wanted to know. He was limp and quite dry...

"You didn't come."

"Observant, aren't you," he said, dripping sarcasm.

"Then why don't you let me..."

"There's no need. It was OK. I'm OK. The earth doesn't have to move every
time, you know."

"I don't mind..."

"Have you gone deaf since this morning? I said it's OK."

"But..."

"Oh, for fuck sake, Doyle, give it a rest. Give *me* a rest. Just shut up
and go to sleep."

I don't argue when Bodie talks in that tone but I was panicking like a pro
at the expression lingering on his face: I'd never had a bed-partner react
with revulsion before. I lay back, guilt consuming me. 

After a minute or two he said in a goaded voice. "If you don't take that
look off your face you can go and sleep on the sofa."

"What look?"

"You know bloody well what I'm talking about. It wasn't your fault. I
asked you to do it. It wasn't rape. It didn't hurt that much and for the
fourth time, I'M OK! So either stop looking like a spaniel that's been
kicked in the goolies or else go and do it somewhere else."

Relaxing infinitesimally--if he could tick me off like that then I hadn't
upset him irretrievably--I reached out a hand and held his shoulder. "Just
so long as you're happy..."

"I'm happy. Not ecstatic, just happy."

I couldn't believe he was happy, he was too sober for that, but I wanted
to let myself believe he was all right so I turned off the bedside light
and lay back.

"This probably isn't the time," I said after a bit, eliciting a groan and
a forceful 'no, it's not!', "but sooner or later, Bodie, we are going to
have to talk."

"What about?"

"Us. All this."

"What for?"

"What for! Are you..."

"Look, Ray, do us a favour and pack in nattering. I'm knackered. 'f you
wanna talk then we'll talk--but not tonight. OK?"

He didn't wait for an answer, just hauled the covers up round his ears and
tucked his nose in like a large cat settling down. Smiling, I let it
be...for the moment.

Should have know better than to let him talk me out of it. I did as I'd
been asked in the morning and went out for a run on my own, sorely tempted
though I was to wake him. Jogging's much more fun with a companion. He was
up when I got back; dressed in blazer and neat blue worsted.

"Got to be back in the window?" I chuckled.

"Got to be at Cath's," he retorted.

"Cath's?" I sounded numb. I felt numb.

"Yeah. She rang a few minutes ago." But his eyes told me he lied. "I'm
taking her out for the day. Make yourself at home. There's plenty in the
fridge for breakfast."

He let himself out. I watched the Capri drive away.

I didn't eat any breakfast.

-- THE END --

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