half playful, waving his free hand at Daniel’s shirt and trousers. “No need for all that. We’ve got privacy here. No one’s going to come in.”
Daniel unbuttoned and slipped off his shirt, exposing his hairless torso, then did the same with his trousers, folding them neatly on the back of a chair. He crossed back to the bed in just his sleek white pants and reclined beside his partner. How often he had done this before, yet so seldom with the same person, for even those who enjoyed it were not prone to come back a second time. He drank his champagne and ran his tongue, the bubbles still dancing upon it, along his sharp teeth. He then pulled his bag towards him and waited for the question to come, as it always did, now when he was stripped to his pants and would soon be relieved of these:
“What have you got in there?”
It was, Daniel knew, the defining moment of the night. Some would sound giddy, as if anticipating a toy of some kind. Others, grown paranoid from decades of a double-life, would tense up, fearing they’d fallen into a trap. All that mattered was that it came at the right time, when he lay there, offered up to them, when it was too late to turn back.
“It’s something I brought for you,” Daniel said.
“Oh?” Lev looked at him with curiosity. “A present?”
“If you like. Yes.”
Daniel opened the bag and pulled the contents out: a pair of grotty old pyjamas, red and white stripes, two buttons missing from the upper part, on the lower a tear at the thigh, the whole lot turning yellow from age and the sweat of previous nights. The smell off them was rancid.
Lev looked at the pyjamas, then back at Daniel. There was no excitement now in his eyes, gone the complacent smile. But to Daniel’s relief there was not that look of repulsion he’d seen in men at other times. Lev merely looked bemused, the folds of his flabby face trembling indecisively.
Daniel held the garments towards him.
“What do you want me to do with these?” Lev held out a wary hand. “You mean I should…?”
“Yes. Afterwards you can do what you want to me. I’ll do what you want to you. But only if you… it’s the only way I can…”
“You don’t really expect me to…?”
“Just put them on,” Daniel said, his tone turning hard. “Now.”
And as he spoke, so commanding was the look in his eyes, so cold the curve of his smile, that it would have taken a very brave man to refuse.
* * *
Daniel woke up first the next morning, as he always did. Whether it was the deep sleep of satisfaction, or the desire to forget themselves in oblivion, the old men never came round before him, or if so kept their eyes closed, feigning sleep, softly snoring. It was these moments he valued most of all: waking at five or six, the first light of day peeping in, illuminating the bed and sleeping face of his partner. He would raise himself on his elbow, his other hand beneath the covers, resting on his own slender leg or belly, which would sometimes be damp from the heat of the night, still sticky with sweat or sperm, and stare down at the one next to him, cosy and unaware and at peace. If he stared long enough, this peace would eventually seep into him.
For a long time he lay like this, until at last Lev started to stir, which signalled to Daniel that it was time to stop staring. He slipped silently, stealthily, out of the bed and crossed the floor, retrieved his pants where they lay crumpled in a ball, pulled them on and sat in the grand old chair beside the door to the hall. His hands resting on the arms of the chair like some juvenile king, he watched Lev, waiting for the old man to awaken and start looking back at him.
When Lev awoke their eyes met, Daniel’s clean and fresh, Lev’s lids bleary and coated with a sticky green substance.
“Why are you sitting there?” Lev asked.
“It’s morning,” Daniel said. “Time for me to go.”
“But it’s still early. Come back to bed. It’s warmer here.”
“I can’t,” Daniel repeated. “My family will be waiting. I need to leave.”
For a moment Lev lay there, unmoving, saying nothing. He then sighed – they were never as charmed or enchanted at the arse-end of the night – and hauled himself from the bed with a sour expression. Daniel never knew who these expressions were aimed at: the old men themselves, or him? Maybe both. Lev unbuttoned the pyjama top and untied the bottoms and flicked them from his feet onto the floor, like a sordid remnant of an encounter he’d now rather be rid of. The bottoms must have been too tight, for in the course of his sleep they’d dug in and left a rosy imprint upon his skin. With a hand he reached down and scratched himself. He then picked both top and bottoms off the floor and flung them over the bed to Daniel, who caught them high up, near his chest, and held them briefly to his mouth and nose, as if to draw the aura and odour in.
Soon they were both dressed, Lev in just a shirt which dangled around his thighs – Daniel supposed the old man would shower and scrub long and hard as soon as he was alone – and Daniel as he’d been the previous night, in need now of a comb through his hair, but still well turned-out. He put the pyjamas back in his bag while Lev crossed to his trousers. There Lev pulled out a brown leather wallet and opened it.
“What did we say, two hundred?”
Daniel was surprised that Lev had forgotten. Or was he just embarrassed now and choosing to play dumb? Either way, Daniel knew that if he wanted he could probably take the whole sum. But why would he? He’d always been brought up to respect his elders, and that meant – amongst other things – he mustn’t thieve.
“One hundred,” he corrected. “Our special agreement. Remember?”
Lev looked at him, then down at the money in his hand. He stuffed some notes back into the wallet and crossed to Daniel to give him his fee. The notes were clean and fresh and slipped snug as a secret into Daniel’s pocket.
At the door Lev held Daniel back a moment – it was the first time the old man had touched him since they’d risen. He opened up and glanced out. Probably checking to make sure there was no one around.
“Okay,” Lev said, “off you go.”
Daniel stepped into the corridor and turned. They looked at each other across the threshold. It was at this time the old men sometimes spoke: a word of pity maybe, or some paltry piece of advice. One or two would even laugh the whole thing off as a vulgar joke. But Lev said nothing. Maybe he’d already blanked it from his mind. Perhaps he was appalled. To Daniel it didn’t matter. He knew there were others like Lev, just as he, too, would be replaced by another, tomorrow or tonight, squeezed in between the swanky conference and the departing flight.
“Thank you,” he said, wanting to part in a mannerly way. “I hope I was everything you wanted.” His voice was warm and his smile wide.
“Goodbye,” Lev said.
The door closed in Daniel’s face.
He turned from the room to go towards the lift. Through the long window at the end of the corridor bright sunlight was streaming in. For the first time since he’d left home the previous night he became aware of a sensation in his body: a growling, guttural hunger. He checked his watch. It was only eight o’ clock. He would be home by nine, and he already pictured them sitting there, his father and mother and grandma together in the tiny room, surrounded by his grandpa’s personal things. He saw it as he might in a dream: he’d enter and they’d ask him how work had been, and he’d give them his money and invent the story of his night. With a pat on the head they’d thank him, say that if grandpa could see his special boy now the old man would be filled with pride.
Stepping into the lift, the little bag held close to his side, Daniel knew such words were true. But he blocked them out. Morning washed over him, the past receded like a foreign land, and did not return until the coming of night.
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