CARTER'S DUTY: WILLIAM CARTER
III
Chapter 16 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
It had been a set-up from the start. But exactly who, and how
Will had become the targeted victim, eluded him. Wait, he knew exactly how.
Brody was ultimately always the culprit. He knew Brody wasn't solely to blame
this time; there was an inherent curiosity in all of his friends to see how
he would react to the situation he found himself in. Not that he had been
completely in a position to do anything to stop it. He was still struggling
against fits of giggles as whatever Brody had administered to him worked its
way through his system.
He found himself in Porchea's clutches, trapped. The private
booth offered him nowhere to run and all he could do was sit and endure the
experience. It was as if the combination of drugs, music and the fact that
she was stripping in front of him had displaced his mind from his own body.
He could still see, but neither act nor speak initially. He was a passenger
along for the ride in his own life. For once he had no control over what was
happening; he could only sit back and watch through his own eyes as she performed
for him.
She had manoeuvred him exactly into that position, luring him
away from the table when she had asked to talk to the best man about another
surprise for the groom. Will had just assumed she was being sincere, so had
followed the half-naked woman back into the booth. His own naïveté
and total lack of experience with such things left him oblivious to anything
being wrong until it was far too late.
He stared at her now from the chair she had sat him in. She
was pretty, he supposed, dressed now in a white lacy lingerie thing and smiling
at him like the cat who had finally cornered the canary. He coughed and tried
desperately to think of something appropriate to say.
"I'm gay," was the best that he could manage. He was
firing on only one cylinder, and that one had blown a gasket along the way.
"I know," she replied as she began to dance for him
to the sharp backbeat of the music, running her hands over herself suggestively.
He arched his eyebrow; so much for that plan. He tried again,
"You do realize that..."
She ignored him as she slipped out of her bra and straddled
his lap, staring deep into his eyes. He looked down at what she was offering
then looked back up at her face.
"Wouldn't you rather just talk?" he asked, still trying
to will his body to move.
She pushed him back down and began to run her hands over his
body again. It was an odd experience for him. It was strange to be making
physical contact with someone in that fashion and not feel anything. It was
totally non-sexual to him. He tried to think sexual thoughts, but they eluded
him.
He laughed nervously, hoping that she wouldn't get offended.
She didn't seem offended as she slid down off of the chair and
ran her hands up his inner thigh. He looked down at the mane of blonde hair
and shook his head, nothing.
She was giving him her best effort as she slid her hands upwards
those last few inches. He tried to understand what Jared, Rafik, Jeff and
even Brody saw in her. But one hurdle remained, impassable in his mind. He
could see that she was desirable in a strictly male hormone kind of way. But
he just wasn't wired that way.
He found his mind wandering, the lights going out upstairs as
he checked out of his own body for awhile. He was just going to let the experience
carry on and then when it was over he would return. At least it reassured
his own sexuality.
Porchea was completely naked now; she mounted him again and
ground herself against him, groaning and moaning her desire. But he remained
lost in his own reflections.
Had Andrew finally reached the inevitable conclusion of his
own test? Had Will succeeded in reinforcing the man's sexual identity? Was
their relationship really nothing more than an act, another part of the test
to simply vanish when it had run its course? Had Maria won their undeclared
war for the one guy that truly meant anything to Will? A guy that she didn't
really want, but was determined to have nevertheless?
Will had to accept that possibility. If he had lost Andrew then
he needed to deal with that loss, protect himself from the pain as best he
could and move on with his life. He couldn't just shut down and let the world
slip past him. He was stronger than that. More controlled than that.
He looked at her and shook his head. "You can stop at any
time," he said calmly. "I'm not enjoying this; it does nothing for
me, I'm sorry."
She smiled at him, a touch disappointed, "I'm sorry..."
Will snorted, "Don't be, there's a reason they call us
gay." He stood up and walked out of the booth, not even bothering to
straighten or re-button his shirt.
"So?" Brody demanded with a massive grin.
Will shrugged, "I found someone I want to take to the wedding."
Jeff started and stared, his eyebrows knotting in worry, and
then he shook to clear his head.
"You're kidding, right? I know you are. Right, Will?"
he swallowed. "You're not taking a stripper to my wedding. This is no
time to start experimenting. Not that I care if you do, but my family will
be there... Hey?" he called as Will turned away and Brody threw an arm
around him.
"You're nuts, you know that?" Brody said to Will.
"Stop before he has a stroke."
They both looked over at Jeff, who was staring between them
and Porchea who was leaning on the bar looking despondent. Brody excused himself
to go and comfort her; within a few moments she was laughing and smiling along
with him.
"He's kidding, Jeff," Jared said, trying to wipe the
grin from his face as he watched Brody work.
"I'm kidding," Will reassured. "Calm down, it's
all good."
"You suck," Jeff replied with a grin of his own, sitting
back down. "Tuck yourself in, you look like you just got laid."
Will shook his head, "Nah, I'm chilling, it's all good."
They crawled out of there sometime after two in the morning.
Stumbling into the Jeep Cherokee, Brody was to drive them all back to Will's
place, the safest place to be to sleep off the affects of alcohol and other
substances.
"Guys, I kinda have to go," Rafik said as they hit
the highway.
"To the bathroom?" Jared asked. "Me, too."
"So do I," Will told them.
"Same here," Jeff said.
"Me, too." Jared repeated.
"Well, I have to go kind of bad," Rafik admitted as
he looked around for somewhere to stop.
Now that he had mentioned going, Will didn't know how long he
was going to be able to wait.
"You'd better hurry," he told Brody.
"Man! I didn't go the whole night," Jared said. "I
can't believe that. And we drank a lot."
"I didn't go the whole night either," Jeff admitted.
"Brody, just pull over."
"Where?" Brody asked. "If the cops see us..."
"Who cares," Rafik said, starting to dance in the
front seat. "Just stop. If you don't, Jared might want to buy a new jeep."
"No joke," Will told them, feeling like he had to
piss right there.
"Shit," Brody muttered, as he pulled over on the shoulder
and the guys pushed each other to get off the truck.
"Oh, man! I waited a long time!" Jared yelled.
They barely made it out of sight from the highway and just far
enough from each other to be comfortable. But when they finally were able
to, it was a relief. A line of five guys watering a highway embankment at
two-thirty in the morning.
The pair of pickup trucks suddenly screeching to a halt caused
them all to turn; Will swallowed when he caught sight of the Quebec plates.
The eight men spilled out of the truck, one of them pointing
to the Ontario plates on Jared's jeep. "C'est Anglais!"
Will felt uneasy; it was late, the new comers were obviously
drunk, and the way they continued to gesture...
"Les Anglais taberwet, we don't want you round here!'
Jared walked calmly back to the Jeep. "Let's just go,"
he said, opening the passenger side door as his friends continued to watch
the Frenchmen warily.
The ringleader stepped forward and lashed out with his foot,
slamming the jeep door closed on Jared's hand. Immediately the tension grew
as the friends realized they were outnumbered and in trouble. Jared cradled
his hand as Will stepped up protectively.
Where was Brody?
The shattering of glass got everyone's attention as Brody emerged
from behind the Frenchmen, standing beside the front end of their truck, a
tire iron in his hand. He hefted it again and shattered the other headlight.
"You want to fucking go...Let's go!" he lifted it again ready to
swing.
The ringleader shook his head as he grabbed one of his friends,
all of them sidestepping around Brody to give him as much room as they could,
"Mon dit, you crazy!"
Brody lowered his weapon as they piled into their trucks, turning
to look at Jared's bleeding hand, cut when the door had been slammed on him.
"We're going to get you to a hospital," he said calmly.
