Page 53 of The Quarterlands (Dark Water #4)

In the duck on the way home, Elliot chatted away about everything and nothing, but Alex felt himself growing increasingly tense.

He knew Elliot wanted to sleep with him – he’d made that plain from the minute he’d first met him.

Alex would go to his bed – he had no choice – but it had been some time since his cock had worked, and he doubted it would tonight.

Not without the blue pills, and he hadn’t had any of those for a long time.

He was feeling more and more anxious as they neared Elliot’s house.

What would Elliot do if he couldn’t perform?

Would he send him back to Tyler? Alex had resigned himself to dying by Tyler’s hand, and he couldn’t cope with the mental gymnastics of the past twenty-four hours.

His head ached, and he dreaded what would happen when they reached the house.

He became quieter and more withdrawn with each passing minute, not that Elliot seemed to notice, as he talked enough for them both. Finally, they reached the house, and Alex walked wearily inside, a couple of steps behind his new houder.

“He wouldn’t have a career at all without me, so he bloody well should come to my party,” Elliot carped, still complaining about Hudson Brink’s lack of enthusiasm for his invitation.

Alex came to a stop at the foot of the stairs and gazed up them, longing for the quietness and serenity of a bed of his own, without company.

“Everyone loves my parties. We dress up. And…” Elliot lowered his voice theatrically, although they were quite alone. “I have access to some of the finest party drugs in all of New London.”

Alex barely heard him. He just stood there, unable to move.

“You like croc, don’t you? Well, I have croc. Lots of it.” Elliot moved his arm, and Alex, reacting purely on instinct, flinched. Elliot suddenly stopped talking.

“Oh, my dear boy. You really have been through the mill, haven’t you?

” Elliot said softly. “I’m sorry. There’s me rabbiting on, but I have noticed how out of sorts you are.

You slept all through Hud’s movie, although it was unbelievably tedious, so I’m not surprised.

I was just going to brush that lock of hair away from your face.

There.” He gently raised his fingers and smoothed Alex’s hair out of his eyes.

Then he took Alex’s face in his hands, gazing at him sadly.

“Our friend George has been unspeakably vile to you, hasn’t he, sweetheart? Did he beat you? I think he did, and that’s a crime against beauty. To hurt such an angel. To lay one single finger on someone this heartbreakingly beautiful.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Alex’s lips.

“ I will never hit you, my darling, rest assured about that. You will be safe here, with me.”

“Thank you,” Alex whispered. “I’m just very tired.”

“Of course you are. Have I been ever so selfish showing you off today the way I did? I just couldn’t wait for people to see you. I can see how it might all have been a bit too much, so run along upstairs to bed, my sweet. Tomorrow is a new day.”

Alex was relieved that nothing more would be required of him tonight.

He walked slowly to his bedroom and lay down on the bed the minute he reached it, unable to even remove his clothes.

He needed time and space to process the complete change in his circumstances, and it seemed that Elliot was going to give him that – for now, at least.

For the next few days, Elliot was kind and solicitous.

He took out his holocams and set up numerous shots of Alex, but they went nowhere and saw nobody.

It was a relief after the whirlwind of that first day, and Alex was grateful for it.

He was, therefore, taken by surprise at the end of the week, when he was sitting in the dining room eating breakfast with Elliot, by the sound of the front door opening. He looked up, startled.

“Don’t worry, my love. It’s just the housekeeper.

Chantal. In here, my dear.” He turned back to Alex.

“She’s been with me for years and adores me.

I gave her some time off to settle you in, but she usually comes most days at ten-thirty.

She’s terribly sweet – French, you know.

Had a beastly time of it over there. All those awful wars.

She’s ever so grateful to be here in the land of peace and plenty. ”

Alex never found out if that was the case because Chantal rarely spoke. She was a tiny bird of a woman but very efficient at her job, which was a good thing because Elliot was a messy man who left piles of detritus in any room he was in.

Elliot introduced them, and Chantal glanced at Alex’s ID tag with some curiosity, then back at Elliot sadly.

She must have known dead Christopher with the terrible taste in clothes.

She never said as much, but Alex had the feeling she disapproved of him.

It was as if she thought he was using Elliot, taking advantage of his grief over his dead husband to inveigle himself into his life, even though none of this had been his doing.

When Elliot was working, he was tireless in pursuit of precisely the shots he wanted.

He arranged Alex in numerous positions, had him make faces, walk forwards, backwards, sideways, bend over, smile and pout for hours on end.

It was so tedious that Alex wondered how professional models could bear it.

How was this considered glamorous? Still, it didn’t require anything of him except to be Elliot’s animated marionette, simply doing whatever Elliot asked, without the need for any input from himself, and it was better – by far – than the alternative.

Then, suddenly, everything changed. Elliot stopped working, and for the next couple of weeks it was one party, club, and social event after another, a merry-go-round of fancy restaurants and non-stop revelling that would have exhausted most men half Elliot’s age.

Alex soon came to understand that this was Elliot’s lifestyle. He cocooned himself while working, emerged to throw himself into a wild bout of partying, and then returned to his work.

One morning, a few weeks after his arrival, Elliot sat him down and spoke to him in a firm, direct way.

“Darling, I know you’ve been through hell, but you weren’t cheap, and I want my money’s worth.

Now, listen. You know I sometimes call you Christopher, and you, frankly, could do with a completely fresh start.

So, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t I change your name to Christopher Dacre on the IS agency database?

You see, my love, it’s not enough for you to be as beautiful and obedient as you are, and, lord love you, you really are so good and do everything I ask.

But modelling requires a tad more effort than that.

I need you to engage with the work, my pretty.

So, why don’t you become Christopher? You can be my muse and forget you were ever sad old Alex, who beastly George was so mean to.

What do you say? It’ll be a nice new beginning for us both. ”

Alex gazed at him, wondering if he should be surprised, but then realised he wasn’t. Elliot was a profoundly silly man and all too likely to believe that a name change would be enough to alter someone’s entire personality and outlook on life.

Yet, he was curiously drawn to the idea.

Christopher was a role he could play, a persona he could draw on, an extension of his mask.

He already knew who Christopher had been because Elliot had made that entirely clear.

He was a flamboyant airhead of a man, interested in clothes, parties, drugs, and sex.

In short, the perfect partner for Elliot Dacre.

“Okay,” he found himself saying.

“Oh, good.” Elliot clapped his hands. “I’ll send off the paperwork today, Christopher .

Now, as to other, ahem, matters, it’s really time for some fun, isn’t it?

Chris was always up for some fun. You know what I mean, darling.

I’ve been terribly patient, but you’re making me wait ever such a long time. ”

Alex smiled and got down on his knees in front of Elliot. Then he pushed open his houder’s legs, opened his trousers, and gave him one of his best blow jobs, with Elliot’s hand tangled in his hair the entire time as he squealed, “Oh, yes, please ,” over and over again.

That night, for the first time, Elliot asked Alex to stay over in his bedroom. He acted shy and coy, but the minute Alex undressed, he let out a sigh of almost orgasmic delight.

“Oh, my sweet, look how gorgeous you are. I’d run for my holocam, but we can save that for another time. Come here, my lovely, and let me touch you.”

Alex slipped into bed with him and did his best to show him a good time. Later, Elliot sighed and held him close, kissing his cheek every so often.

“Such a lovely boy. So kind and beautiful. My lovely Chris,” he whispered. “It’s wonderful to have you back, my darling.”

Did he really think Alex was his husband, returned to him? Alex suspected not. He was sure Elliot knew it was a fantasy, but he didn’t want anything to puncture the illusion he’d created. Well, there were worse things than being a rich old fool’s plaything, he supposed.

The following morning, he woke to find Elliot creeping out of bed .

“ No! Don’t look at me,” he screeched. “You must close your eyes.” Alex did as he was told, mystified.

“Now you can open them,” Elliot declared a few seconds later. Alex looked at him, bemused. What had that been about?

“It’s just…” Elliot slipped back into bed beside him, patting his hair.

“It might shock you to know this, but I wear a little hairpiece, sweetie, and it slipped off in the night. I had to adjust it before you looked at me, in case you found me utterly hideous, like that wretched creature in Beauty and the Beast .”