SCOTT'S
REDEMPTION.
Scott noticed an unfamiliar car parked in
the driveway as he pulled
in, though strangely, Jerry's Bronco was
not there. Jerry was
always home first.
As he walked through the kitchen door,
Scott called out a greeting
and heard a response from the living room.
Dropping his briefcase on
the counter, Scott headed for the living
room, wondering what was
going on and who was in the house.
The stranger was standing by the front
window, his back to the room,
but he turned at the sound of Scott's
footsteps. In his early
forties, the man had short dark hair and a
neatly cropped moustache.
Just over six feet tall, he wore jeans and
a v-necked t-shirt that
showed a firm chest with wisps of more
dark hair curling above the
collar.
As the man extended his hand, Scott thought that he looked
vaguely familiar.
"Hello, Scott," the stranger
said. "I'm Rick."
Scott did not shake his hand.
"Where's Jerry?" he said. This man seemed very comfortable here,
but Scott was not at all at ease.
"Sit down," Rick said. "We need to talk about that."
Scott felt panic begin to well up in him.
"What's happened? Is Jerry okay?"
Rick nodded. "Jerry is not hurt.
He's perfectly fine. But he has
made some mistakes that will take a while
to sort out. He's not
going to be coming back for a while, if
ever."
"What are you talking about!"
Scott was shouting. "Where is he!
Tell me what"
Rick reached forward and grabbed Scott's
wrist. As the younger man
started to twist away, Rick said softly,
"Be at peace, Scott. Be at
peace."
Amazingly, Scott felt his panic drain away
and a feeling of calm and
safety overtake him. As Rick once again suggested that he sit,
Scott found it was the most sensible thing
in the world to be doing.
Once he was seated on the couch, Rick sat
down next to him. He was
close, but not intimidating.
"Scott," he said. "Do you remember what things were like
before you
met Jerry?"
"Sure," Scott replied. "I was a mess. Drugs, sex.
I owed a pile
of money to everybody in the world. Jerry helped me sort all that
out.
I'm clean now. Happy. I've got a good job. We bought this
house. Put some money away."
"That's right," Rick said. "And do you remember how I helped you
with that?"
Scott squinted at Rick, trying to recall
why he seemed so familiar.
"No," he said, finally. "I
think there's something, but I don't know
what it is."
"You and I tricked together seven
years ago. Afterward, you took
some things from my house and sold them for
drug money. I tracked
you down, and that's when I helped you
straighten out."
"I don't remember that."
"No, you weren't supposed to,"
Rick nodded. "It was important to
put it behind you. But Scott, it's okay to remember it
now."
Suddenly, Scott was overwhelmed with the
memory of pawning a watch
and electronic equipment he had loaded
into his car while Rick
slept.
He could feel the panic when Rick and two other guys had
confronted him in a bar, forced him
outside into a waiting van, and
then taken him back to Rick's house. He could remember being tied
to a chair in the basement, he could
remember the hood that had
deprived him of sight and sound, of
everything but the sound of
Rick's voice. Rick's voice had been in his head for day after day,
until finally someone had removed the
hood. Jerry. Jerry had
removed the hood, wiped his face gently,
given him a tender kiss and
said, "Come on, buddy, let's go
home."
Scott stared at Rick. "What did you do to me?"
"I got to know you, Scott. I found out what you needed to be happy
and clean, and I made you ready to accept
it. Just like I had done
with Jerry. I thought you and he were perfect for each other."
"We were," Scott whispered,
thinking of Jerry and how happy he had
felt knowing that each day he would come
home to someone who loved
him.
He remembered lying in bed, Jerry close beside him, murmuring
in his ear, telling him how perfect their
lives were.
"You did everything right,
Scott," Rick went on. "But as
for Jerry,
I am afraid I did not prepare him as well
as I prepared you.
Eventually, he began to take advantage of
you, Scott. And that's
what I had to stop."
Dully, Scott tried to think of anything
that Jerry had done that had
not been exactly right. Slowly, he shook his head. "What had to
stop?"
Rick stood and walked to an envelope that
rested on top of the
television. He opened it and extracted a sheaf of photographs.
Wordlessly, he handed them to Scott.
Scott could hardly breathe as he looked at
the pictures. One after
another, they showed him having sex with
different men. A muscular
man covered in tattoos was shoving a huge
dildo into his ass. A
chubby, hairy man lay on the floor as
Scott devoured his cock, his
blonde hair sticky with semen. In another, Scott rested in a sling
while two young kids, maybe just college
age, spat on his smooth
chest.
There were pictures of Scott fucking a man his grandfather's
age, of Scott in a leather harness with
weights attached to his
balls and tits, of Scott in lingerie
dancing for a faceless stranger
in a business suit. Under other circumstances, Scott might have
found some of the pictures exciting but
now...
With a shudder, Scott threw the pictures
to the floor. "How?" he
gasped.
"Jerry told me that most of the time,
you thought you were having
sex with him. When that would have seemed unlikely, he simply made
you forget. He took pictures every time, and used them on the
internet to pimp you out. That's how I found out. A concerned
friend saw the pictures, knew how I had
tried to help you, and told
me about them."
"That bastard!" Scott stood up,
clenching his fists, trying to stop
his whole body from shaking. "Where is he?"
"Jerry has gone away to stay with
some friends of mine. They have
the time and the expertise to make sure
that he never does that
again.
His training may take a while, however, and I don't think it
would be wise for him to see you again.
Though it may be small
consolation, he has signed over everything
to you. The house, your
joint accounts, are all yours, as is most
of the money he took in
from using you."
"How could you do this to me!"
Scott rounded on Rick, his eyes
flashing.
As the older man reached for his wrist again, Scott flung
his hand aside. "Don't touch me!
Don't even think about doing
anything else for me! You've completely fucked up my life! How can
I even know who I am! How can I trust anything I think!"
Rick held his hands up, keeping them where
Scott could see them.
"I understand, Scott. And I am sorry, truly sorry for what
happened.
When I met you, I thought you were just a few months away
from jail or maybe from killing yourself.
I tried to help you in a
way that I have helped many men
before. But I admit that things
went terribly wrong. I don't expect you to trust me right
now."
"Damn right!" Scott shouted. "Not now, not ever!"
Rick bowed his head. "I stepped in as soon as I knew. I saw those
pictures just two days ago. I felt I had a responsibility. And I
don't think that responsibility has
ended. I am willing to help you
again, in any way that you want."
"By fucking with my mind again!"
"In any way that you want," Rick
repeated. "My card is by the phone
in the kitchen. When ever you want, it doesn't matter the time, you
call me and I will be there to help
you. Wait a week, wait a year.
You can call me and I will come. I promise you that I won't do
anything you do not ask me to do. I won't use any techniques you
don't specifically request. You can even call me up just to bawl me
out again."
"Fat chance!" Scott snorted.
"It's all up to you," Rick said
softly, and with that, he turned,
walked to the front door, looked one last
time at Scott, and then
left.
Scott spent the next two weeks in a daze.
It was impossible to sort
through his life. He could trust nothing he remembered. At work,
he functioned on autopilot, and because of
his track record, his
supervisors cut him some slack. His answering machine filled with
unreturned messages and time passed
without meaning.
He had burned the pictures Rick had
left. They revolted him. He
had memories of most of them, although
Jerry was always his partner
in his memory. He knew he had enjoyed himself, and it wasn't the
actions themselves that haunted him, but
his sense of being used
without any regard for his own sake. Yes, he'd had fantasies about
muscle studs and leather, domination and
sex toys. And a part of
him was furious that he hadn't really been
there as he'd lived those
things out. He felt as if something had
been stolen from him.
He'd found the files on Jerry's computer
that had been used to
exploit him. He felt revulsion and fascination as he read e-mails
sent to johns that promised his services.
Jerry had been lavish in
his praise. One of his stock phrases described Scott as a "hung,
buff, naturally smooth piece of
all-American stud meat." For guys
who wanted a bottom, Jerry had promised
that Scott "will adore you
utterly, quiver at your touch, obey your
every word, beg for your
cock or to serve you in any way you
want. Your hot load can fill
any hole you want and he will beg you to
give him more."
Guys who wanted to be topped were teased
with stories of "a raging
animal hard-on that will leave you
pleading for mercy and for more
at the same time. Fierce and insatiable,
your master will make you
crawl like the bitch dog you want to
be. You'll bow in awe of the
powerful manhood that will possess
you."
Scott had never thought Jerry was capable
of such things.
Angry, frustrated, he had fantasized about
contacting some of the
men in Jerry's address book, setting up a
new appointment, then
somehow confronting them when they
arrived. But he knew, somehow,
that it would do nothing to restore his
sense of who he was.
One evening, as he sat watching
television, trying to distract
himself from the numbness he felt, he
heard the doorbell ring. As
he pulled the door open, he was astonished
to see his brother Stan
on the porch.
"Hey, man," Stan sounded
relieved and yet nervous. "Happy
birthday."
With a start, Scott realized the date and
shook his head.
"Can I come in?" Stan asked
quietly.
Apologizing, Scott led Stan into the
living room.
"I don't mean to sound like a bossy
older brother," Stan said,
sitting down. "But I've been a little worried. Nobody heard from
you.
They said you were coming to work, but you didn't return any
calls.
And then, when I tried Jerry's office, they said he'd quit.
Couldn't tell me where to find him."
Scott had tensed at the sound of Jerry's
name and Stan waited a
minute before going on. "Things okay between you guys?"
"No," Scott bit out. "Things are not okay. They never will
be okay
again.
Let's just leave it at that."
Stan whistled. "I'm sorry, bud.
Really. I mean, it was a little
odd, but we all thought you were doing
fine."
"Odd?" Scott fought down the
urge to shout. "You've known I was
gay
since high school."
"I don't mean that," Stan said
placatingly. "I'm cool with that,
Scott.
You know I mean it. You're a stand-up guy. Would I name my
son after you if I was hung up on
that?"
Stung, Scott nodded.
"I'm sorry, Stan. You've been great. I'm just angry. Lost and
angry. I feel like the whole world has
crashed and I don't know
where anything is. I can't trust myself, I feel like I can't
trust
anything.
Stan stood up and walked over to his
brother. He put a hand on
Scott's shoulder and said, "Listen to
me, Scott. I don't know what
went on with Jerry. You can tell me when you're ready. But I want
you to know that I respect you more than
any man I know. You pulled
yourself together when we all thought you
were a goner. You came
back to us, and everybody in your family
loves you and wants only
the best for you. Five of your friends have called me too.
They all
love you and they want you to know that
you can ask them for
anything you need. Please, don't try to handle whatever this is
alone."
"But it's all a lie," Scott
whispered as he began to sob and felt
Stan pull him closer into a hug.
After a week of living at Stan and Judy's
while taking a leave from
work, Scott felt like the world was
finally beginning to feel real
again.
He had just thrown a load of clothes into the dryerkeeping
house was a way to stay busywhen little
Scotty and his twin sister
Jenny, burst in the door. Just off the school bus, they were
yelling at the top of their lungs, and by
the time Scott reached the
kitchen, he saw Scotty with a handful of
Jenny's hair while his twin
wailed like a banshee.
Separating the fighters took a minute, but
by the time Scott had
them herded into the family room, he had
an idea about what they
were fighting about.
Jenny's tears had stoppedthey were more a
weapon against her
stronger brother than real most of the
timeand she announced
triumphantly, "I said it first, so I
get to do it!"
Scotty drew breath to retort, but his
uncle's sharp "enough!"
bottled up the shout.
"Jenny," Scott said sounding as
patient as he could. "What do you
want to do?"
"We have to tell the class about
someone we think is special.
Tomorrow is my day and I want to talk
about you."
Scott was so shocked that he barely heard
Scotty say, "But he's my
special uncle. We have the same name."
The shouting started again.
It was after eleven that night when the
doorbell rang. Judy excused
herself quietly as Stan went to the
door. Sitting on the couch,
Scott heard Rick's deep voice, but he
waited until the man had
entered the room and seated himself before
he looked up from his
hands.
"My brother is going to stay with
us," he announced wearily. "I
still do not know if I can trust
you."
Rick nodded. "Fair enough. I said
I would help any way I could.
What do you need from me?"
"Tell me what you did to me.
Exactly."
Rick began without preamble. "I used
hypnosis. Normally, it is
something that involves a willing subject,
but in your case, you
were definitely unwilling. You were restrained, and for three days
you were deprived of sleep or sensory
input with the exception of my
voice.
The purpose was to overwhelm your conscious mind and make
you susceptible to suggestion.
"After three days, the restraints
were no longer needed. You
believed you were still restrained and you
were aware of nothing
else but my voice. I spent several hours a day for the next
week
talking to you, establishing my authority
and your trust in what I
was telling you.
"Trust!" Stan's voice cut in,
but Scott waved at him to be quiet.
"Then, we began to talk about
you. About what you had been doing,
what you wanted, why your life was the way
it was.
"You were miserable. You were so
tired of needing a fix, ashamed of
what you had been doing to get it. You
knew things were out of
control and it terrified you. You wanted security, a sense of
belonging, a sense of purpose. You wanted to be loved and you
wanted someone to love.
"So I tried to prepare you for these
things. You had already been
clean for five days at that point, and I
was able to control many of
the withdrawal symptoms. I took your
disgust for the drugs, and I
made it stronger, so you were more
conscious of it, and I filled you
with a sense of power over the addiction.
"I reminded you of the things about
yourself that you had forgotten.
Your intelligence, your charm, your
kindness. I wanted to help you
respect yourself, to feel like someone who
loved you could be worthy
of your love.
"It took another week before I was
sure that the hypnosis was truly
beginning to affect the way you thought
about yourself."
"And then," Scott cut in,
"you made me fall in love with Jerry."
"No," Rick said softly. "Then I introduced you to Jerry. I brought
you out of the trance, but I told you you
were in a restaurant with
him or driving in a car. He was under the same suggestion. I let
you talk to each other, get to know each
other. I couldn't force
that. I couldn't tell you you were in
love.
"But after I had sent Jerry away, I
could ask you how you felt about
him, and you would tell me honestly, no
holding back. And I thought
that something really was there. Not love at that point, but
interest, attraction, enough to make me
think there could be
something that would grow between you.
"And I thought the same thing when I
talked to Jerry. Jerry's life
had been a mess when I met him. Not in the
same way as yours, but he
was as close to the edge as you were. He needed different things
than you did. He needed to feel dependable, special to someone,
able to focus on and care for
somebody. And he thought you could be
that kind of person.
"I never told you to feel anything
for Jerry that wasn't real. I
never told him to feel anything for you
but what came naturally. I
left you free to love or fall out of love
as your hearts dictated."
Rick leaned forward. "Sometimes, over the last month, I've
wondered
if that was my mistake. What happened with Jerry was completely
unforseen. I don't know how he came to understand what had been
done to each of you, but he did. He recognized that you would be
responsive to hypnotic suggestion, and he
took advantage of it. I
could have implanted a block of some sort
to prevent it, but I truly
wanted to leave you guys free to make your
own lives once you left
my place."
Scott sat silently for a minute. "I don't know," he said. "I still
don't know. One of the worst things about the last month is that I
still miss Jerry while at the same time I
want to rip his throat
out.
I understand everything I loved about him, I remember all the
things that drove me crazy, like the way
he burped or how he
wouldn't eat anything his mother never
made him, or how he snored"
Scott sat up. "Snoring! He stopped
snoring! We went to Miami last
year.
I made him sleep in the bathtub one night because he was so
damn loud. Then, about a month after we got home, the snoring
stopped.
He told me he'd learned some breathing exercises, but"
"He must have seen a hypnotist,"
Rick finished. "Someone who either
reawakened his memories of what I had
done, or who just gave him a
sense of what could be accomplished."
Scott swore.
"Where's Jerry now?" Stan
interjected.
"He's still in the care of some
friends of mine. I don't know much
more than that. Normally, I would be more involved, but since I
feel responsible for the failure, and
because I have promised Scott
that I would stay clear of everything
until he asked otherwise, I
have not communicated about him. I can find out more, if you want."
"No," Scott said firmly.
"Nothing more about Jerry."
Rick nodded.
"One more thing, though" Scott
went on. "And then I would like
you
to leave."
Rick nodded again.
"Why do you do things like
this?"
Rick sighed, then stood and walked to the
door. Just as Scott drew
breath to challenge him, he turned around.
"Because twenty years ago I met a man
who used hypnosis on me. He
used it to discover my worst fears, and
then he exploited them for
seven years while I was his slave. The things that Jerry did to you
were only a shadow of what was done to me,
and I would still be
trapped in the world that he made for me
if he hadn't been killed in
a car accident. I needed a year to pull myself together, and the
only way I could was to take what had
happened to me and use it,
somehow, to turn the tables. I've taken in nearly three dozen men
in the last twelve years. I keep a very loose eye on all of them,
and as far as I can telland I've checked
closely on all of them in
the last monthyou and Jerry were the only
cases where something went
wrong.
Terribly, awfully wrong, but I consider these two failures
to be the worst possible thing that could
have happened. I've
already promised myself never to interfere
this way again. I
promise you the same thing.
"Good night."
The smoky half-light of the bar was tinted
red, and the relentless
beat of the music thudded through Rick's
brain as he lifted the beer
he had nursed for the last hour and winced
at the taste of the warm
liquid.
Beside him, the bartender set down a glass
of sparkling water, and
though Rick saw a hand reach it and take
it, it wasn't until he
heard the voice that he realized who had
ordered it.
Scott slid onto the barstool and said,
raising his voice over the
music, "I wondered if you still came
to this place. I was afraid
they might realize they'd 86'd me six
years ago. But I guess I've
changed too much."
Rick's calm demeanor disappeared in
unusual surprise. "I'm not sure
I know what would be an appropriate
response to that."
"You could say,'you're welcome.' I meant it as a thanks."
Rick set his beer down. "I think that
would be pretty damn arrogant
on my part, considering."
Scott looked him straight in the eye. "Two nights ago, you leveled
with me.
I spent the rest of that night talking to Stan. And most
of the next night. Tonight he threw me out because he said he
wasn't the one I needed to talk to any
more. You were. When you
weren't home I came looking for you."
"Okay," Rick said. "Anything you want to talk about."
"That's the first thing," Scott
said firmly. "Let's get over the
complete subservience thing. It's starting to creep me out. I don't
remember that it's your usual way of
behaving. It's still a little
foggy, but I think I remember somebody
with more confidence."
Rick chuckled wryly. "Too much maybe."
"We can debate that later. I might agree. But I think I don't.
Stan reminded me of a lot of things when
we talked, stuff I think I
was happy to forget, about what a complete
waste my life was and how
I used everybody I knew. I still owed Stan $2,000 I'd completely
forgotten about. I gave him Jerry's stud fees and told him the rest
was for the kids' college fund. I've stopped trying to remember
everything for now because I've accepted
that the way things were
going, I was a real loser.
"And you and I changed that.
Together. You put my feet on the path,
but I got me where I am today. I went back to work this morning,
and it felt great. Tomorrow I'm part of a joint presentation by
Scotty and Jenny about their fabulous
uncle. I even stopped by the
house tonight and decided that I liked
it. A few changes to be
made, for sure, but it's a great
place. I can be happy there.
"So I wanted to thank you. I owe you for giving me a chance to
start over. And whatever hell Jerry put me
through, I owe him for.
That was his choice, and in about a
million years I might consider
therapy to help me forgive him. But until then, he's forgotten.
Because I choose to forget him.
"So one more time. Thank you."
Rick's shoulders slumped and his voice was
halting. "No. I'm glad
you feel like your feet are back on the
ground. But I was playing
with fire and you were the one who almost
got burned. You still
don't owe me anything."
Scott's hand came to rest on top of
Rick's. "I'm not here now
because of something I owe anybody. I'm here because of something I
want.
Come home with me."
Rick turned, astonishment betrayed by his
eyes and open mouth, but
Scott put a finger to his lips.
"I wasn't high when I went home with
you before. I woke up needing
a fix, I'll admit that. But I liked what I found here six years ago
and I want to know more. You've heard my darkest secrets and
listened to me tell you everything I
wanted in life. And you tried
to give it to me.
"Two nights ago, you hinted at the
darkest part of your life. I
don't want to take you back through
it. But I want to find out if
there's anything more to you than making
up for something bad that
happened twenty years ago, or last
year. I don't know how to use
hypnosis.
I don't plan to learn. But
you're not a desperate hard
case.
You're a strong, honest, responsible, caring man. You know
me, you know I can love that. Let's find
out if there's anything
more between us than a past."
Rick nodded.