Set Me Free!
4
I dreamt about Florian that night. We were out walking somewhere, hand in hand, with Ten running around our feet. The sun was shining, and we were lightly dressed. We were talking and laughing, but it was as if I wasn't close enough to hear what we were saying. Everything seemed so calm and peaceful, until suddenly Florian yanked my arm, pointing to the side of the road.
"There! That one!" he shouted excitedly, jumping up and down. "It's perfect!"
I turned to look, and there was a small, single-storey house. It looked nothing special, but still, I nodded. It really was perfect for the two of us. Yipping with happiness, Florian hugged me tightly, kissing my cheek. I stroked his hair, and let our lips meet in a delightful kiss. Inside, the house was already fully furnished, and I recognised both my own things and some of the stuff I'd seen in Florian's living room. He led me towards the back of the house, to a luxurious bedroom with a huge, king-size bed. We sat down, kissing each other as he started to undress me.
"Are you happy, love?" he asked, and I nodded.
"Very happy, Florian. I'm so glad we found each other."
Then, of course, I woke up. It was pitch dark outside, except for the street light, and Florian was snoozing lightly next to me. I checked my alarm clock, and it showed half past two. Unable to go back to sleep, I sat up, watching the sleeping wolf, remembering the dream. Was this some kind of sign? Some kind of signal from my subconscious, saying go for it or live to regret it? Shaking my head, I went to the bathroom, then stopped by the kitchen for a glass of warm milk. As I waited for the stove to heat up, I felt a hand tap lightly on my shoulder. The touch made me jump, but I immediately recognised the warm giggle coming from behind me.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Say, that smells very tempting."
"Say no more." I added another cupful of milk to the pot, and stirred to keep it from burning. "Would you get us a couple of mugs?"
"Sure."
I watched him rummage through the cupboards, only then realising that we were both naked. As usual, it didn't really seem to bother Florian, but I started to feel my own cheeks burn. Damn milk was taking forever to heat up, but as soon as it was warm enough I poured out for us, then hurried to sit down at the table. Florian noticed my uneasiness, and he laughed softly, taking the seat opposite me.
"I keep forgetting. It never really bothered dad."
"It doesn't bother me, either." He tilted his head, smiling. Clearly, he didn't believe me. "Well, it shouldn't bother me. I'm just not used to having a naked wolf running through my place."
"Heh. If it really does bother you, I could sleep in my briefs."
"No, it's okay, really. If I get all embarrassed about it, just tell me to ease up."
"All right. Ease up, Scott."
"I'm not embarrassed!"
"You look like a traffic light." He giggled. "Or a cooked lobster."
"Comedian" I muttered, making him laugh even more. "Give me a break!"
"All right." He finished his milk. "Thanks for the drink."
"You're welcome. Warm milk always help me sleep."
"Me too. What woke you up?"
"A dream." I had to stop myself from saying more. "I just couldn't go back to sleep. What about you?"
"Nature's call. And the smell of milk."
"I keep forgetting that nose of yours." I yawned, then drained my mug as well. "Well, I'm going back to bed."
"Me too."
That morning, it was raining heavily, and I didn't really look forward to the drive. Still, I don't back down on my promises, so we set off after a light breakfast. Florian seemed nervous, and we didn't talk much. I kept an eye on the road, and he kept staring out through the side window, occasionally sighing to himself. When there were just a couple of miles to go, he glanced towards me, waiting for me to acknowledge him. I looked back at him, and he sighed again.
"It's really pretty out here."
"Yes, it is. I love the countryside. That's why I never became a city cop."
"Must be great to be a patrolling officer, to see all this, all the time."
"It is. I enjoy my work. It's very free."
"Dad and I often went for drives like this. I always loved it." He sighed, but seemed more nervous than sad. "Maybe I should get a driver's license, so I could go out like this on my own."
"You don't have one?" He shook his head, no. "How come?"
"I didn't think I'd need it. I had everything close to me, school, my friends, all the fun places. Besides, dad was always happy to drive me if I wanted to go somewhere." I turned off the thoroughfare, making my way to a parking space not far from Florian's lawyer's office. "Will you stay in the waiting room?"
"No, I think I'll take a walk around town. It's been a while since I've been here apart from business."
"Okay. It shouldn't take too long." We got out of the car, and he started walking towards the office, but changed his mind. "Can we go to the house afterwards?"
"Of course. I won't be gone long. Whoever gets back first can just wait for a couple of minutes."
"Okay." He grinned. "Bet it'll be me."
"Really? I'll beat you to it!"
We both laughed, then walked away, each his own way. Forest Glade is a nice little town, smaller than Treasure Chest, but not tiny enough to be boring. There's a cinema complex, a couple of restaurants and two quite large malls, making up the centre, and a side street with a couple of small curiosity shops. I spent some time there, looking through the shops with little or no interest, then decided to take a walk through the town park. The air had that certain chill to it that tells you summer has definitely passed, and autumn's rolling in. Soon the leaves would start to turn yellow, and before long we'd have first snow. Not that I really minded, I like snow, but the cold's a bitch when you've got to get up before sunrise to walk the dog. Still, nothing beats the snow-covered landscape when it comes to beauty. I decided to stop by the local police office to chat with my colleagues, and ended up explaining why I was there on my day off. Of course, they all agreed that I was a major softie, but at the same time commended me for having a heart of gold. An hour had passed when I got back to the parking space, to find Florian leaning against the car. He was deep in thought, and didn't see me, so he jumped a bit when I put a hand on his shoulder.
"Waited long?"
"Just a couple of minutes. Well, everything's taken care of."
"How'd it go?"
"Like I thought, I'm the only heir. His will left me everything, anyway." He sighed. "Can we go to the house now?"
"Okay. Want to stop for lunch now or later?"
"You decide, Scott. I'm not hungry."
"Later then. Hop in."
There's a certain air to a house nobody lives in. The cosiness, the lived-in feeling is gone, and what's left is basically just a pile of planks. Florian must have noticed it, too, because he let out a sad moan as we walked away from the car, climbing the steps to the front door. He unlocked it and let us in, stopping to pick up two days' worth of mail. While he sorted it through, I took a look around. Last time, I had only really seen the living room, but now I found that the rest of the house was decorated in the same timeless style. Tasteful, but not very fashionable. I was peeking into a home office, feeling a little bit like an intruder, when Florian tapped my shoulder.
"I've got a suitcase. I'll be upstairs, packing."
"Let me help."
He showed the way up the stairs to a hallway, with doors on both sides. Apart from his and his father's rooms, Florian explained, there were two guest rooms and a small home gym, as well as two bathrooms and what he called the \x91playroom'. Counting the doors, I found that he had mentioned more rooms that there were doors. The policeman in me woke up and started looking for an explanation, but I decided not to ask him. Instead, I joined him in his room. It was a boy's room, no doubt about that. There were a couple of rock star posters and sports streamers. Bookshelves lined the walls, and a computer stood on a desk in the corner. There were clothes on the floor, comic books and magazines, and a couple of model spacecraft hung from the ceiling in strings. Something about it all made me feel odd. I had come to know Florian during these few days, and I knew he was bright and intelligent. A little bit immature, but not at all childish. This room belonged to a young teen, a boy in the beginning of his path towards adulthood. So why had Florian lived like this? He smiled at me, a bit embarrassed about the mess, but I shrugged it off, complimenting him on the models instead. He lit up, greedily swallowing the praise.
"They're all birthday gifts," he explained, beaming proudly. "I can't leave them behind."
He went on to pack some clothes, and I noticed again that he didn't seem to have any newer garments. Then he went through the shelves in his wardrobe, and the bookshelves, and ended up having all but filled two whole suitcases. I carried them to the car while he dismantled his computer. Once that was down in the car as well, Florian seemed to hesitate, nervously clutching his keys.
"What's the matter? Is there something else you want to get?"
"Yes... well, there's some stuff in the playroom I'd like to keep."
"Then let's get it. We probably should clean out all the foodstuff, too."
"Scott, will you come with me to the playroom? I didn't really want to show it to you, but I don't think... don't think I can do it alone."
"Of course. Come on."
"Please don't think ill of me, Scott."
"Why would I?"
He didn't answer, but I could tell that he was very nervous as we went back upstairs. To my surprise, he went up to a blank wall and pushed at it lightly. A section of the wall swung aside, and light came on inside the room. I just stood there, jaw dropped, staring at what was on display. It looked like some ancient torture chamber; there were steel rings on the wall, on the floor and in the ceiling, some with chains or straps hanging from them. Here and there along the walls were shelves with tools and other... things on them, things I couldn't even begin to identify the use of. In the middle of the room, dominating it, hung a huge x-shaped iron construct, fitted with leather straps and more chains. I had no doubts as to its use. Florian walked in, trotting over to the shelves. He stroked his hand against the x as he passed it, sighing.
"I guess I can't bring this one." He laughed coarsely as he started picking his way through whips, straps, paddles, dildos and other things. "This is the playroom, Scott. I've got lots of memories from here."
"I can imagine." I stepped in, hesitantly, picking up a pair of handcuffs. "So this is how your dad used to play..."
"Yes."
"Did he hurt you?"
"What do you think?" He laughed. "Oh, he'd never actually hurt me, if you know what I mean. He was always gentle and kind."
"Gentle and kind?" I picked up a leather whip with tacks attached to its end. "How can a place like this be gentle and kind?"
"I didn't say the place was. He never used that one on me. Most of this stuff is from his boyfriend. They were pretty deep into this stuff, but when he wanted to go further than dad, they broke up. Dad wouldn't tell me, but I think that guy got killed a couple of months later."
"So you never used all of this?"
"No. We used to play around in here, dad and me, whenever he thought I'd been a bad boy." He giggled. "Or when I'd been a good one, for that matter."
"What did you do?"
"Are you curious, Scott?" My blush set off another bout of laughter. "Like I said, we just played. Scott, my father was a... dominant man. And I loved him all the more for it. He wanted me to have a normal life, but I wanted to be his."
"His... slave?"
"Yes. Though we never used that word." Florian's voice was little more than a whisper. "In the end, he accepted it."
"That explains it!" I snapped my fingers. "Your phone call."
"What?"
"Jeff told me you had said someone called Masters had collapsed."
"I did? I can't remember much of that night. We were in the middle of a game, and he had just made me clean the entire house. I guess I called him master, by habit."
"Yes, that must be it." I looked at Florian, who was holding, of all things, a table-tennis racket. "Isn't that in the wrong room?"
"No," he giggled. "Use your imagination, Scott. It gives quite a sting, let me tell you."
"So he did hurt you?" I felt myself blush, as he put the racket down.
"No! He would tie me up in here, yes." He stroked the iron x again. "And he'd whip or spank me. Or other things. But he never hurt me. Never went beyond what I wanted."
"How long...?" I was beginning to feel dizzy, as if there wasn't enough air in the room. "How long did you...?
"He let me become his slave, or pet as he'd call me, when I was eleven. I knew about this room before then, but that was when we started using it." He had tears in his eyes, now. "And when I turned eighteen, he made love to me for the first time, right in here. I'd asked him to earlier, even pleaded him to, but he was always strict about following the law. Always."
"Sounds like you were pretty happy about it."
"Yeah. You're beginning to understand?" I nodded. I understood that he had lived a happy life, but I couldn't figure out how he could've been happy. "I'll miss him forever. Scott?"
"Yes?"
"Would you... step outside? Please? There are some things in here I'd like to take with me, but it feels kind of awkward..."
"All right."
I stepped out into the top floor hall, still feeling a bit light-headed. Closing my eyes, I tried to picture an eleven years old boy, strapped to that huge iron x, being whipped or spanked by his own father. But all I could see was the wolf I'd come to know during the past few days, not strapped to the x but leaning against a wall somewhere, gazing at me with a look of pleading in his eyes. Pleading with me to... I shook my head, dissolving the image, but it stayed in my mind. Better watch it, I told myself. Don't start anything, Scott! You have no right to intrude on this poor boy!
"Are you all right?" Florian's voice was so sudden it made me jump, despite its innate softness. "Scott, you look pale."
"I'm... fine. The air was a bit stale in there."
"I know it's hard for you, but thanks for trying. All this must seem so weird to you."
"Florian, it really doesn't. I'm a cop, I've seen far worse." Without really thinking, I laid my arm around his shoulder as we went back downstairs. "I've seen so many people who inflict pain on others, without caring for their feelings, without thought or guilt as they hurt them. Whatever you did, it was out of love, and not against anyone's will. That makes it better than most things."
"Scott..." He stopped just as we entered the kitchen, tears forming in his eyes. "Scott, thank you so much. That was... That was such a sweet thing to say."
"It's okay to cry, Florian, it's okay."
"I can't help it." He sat down at the kitchen table, his lithe body racked by violent, spasmodic sobs. "It feels like a part of me just died. I know my life goes on, but everything that has been, it's just... gone! Forever gone."
"I know. I know just how you feel." I sat down next to him, holding him while he cried. His pain was like a stab to my heart. "I know exactly how you feel. But it will get better, Florian. It really will. Trust me."
"All right," he sniffled. "I trust you. But it still hurts."
"I know it does." I patted his shoulder as I got up. "Sit here and rest for a while. I'll take care of the kitchen."
"What are you going to do?"
"Not much, just throw away food that's gone bad, then pack up everything that's still good." I opened the fridge. "We'll take it with us back home. Any cooking utensils and such, you can come back for later."
An hour later we were in the car, on the way back to my place. Florian hadn't spoken much, and I sensed that he was busy with his own thoughts, so I stayed silent. We picked up some burgers, fries and sodas, and ate in the car. He still didn't seem too hungry, but he slapped at my hand, grinning, when I tried to snatch some of his fries. After we finished eating, he turned his head, looking at the passing scenery without really seeing it. My thoughts returned to what I'd learned in the house, and every time I blinked, an image flashed before my eyes. The image of Florian, leaning against a wall, staring at me with his large, longing eyes, begging me to hold him, to take him in, to do... other things. I recognised the place this time; he was in my bedroom, and as the image grew clearer, I could see that he was naked, even though his tail kept his modesty, wrapped around his waist. I kept telling myself to leave him alone, to let him make his own choices, in his own life, but my strength of will was wavering. If I didn't tell him how I felt, how would he know that I was one of his options? If he went on to live on his own, I would miss him. But on the other hand, how could I tell him how I felt, when even I hardly knew? Love, pity, lust, friendship, longing. Lots of emotions were warring inside me, while at the same time I tried to look at it logically. What would the social implications be, if I took a male lover? The answer seemed clear; they were irrelevant. But still... My confused musings were interrupted by a soft hand, touching my shoulder. Snapping back into reality, I caught a glimpse of Florian's face. It was pale beneath the fur, and he was shivering. When he spoke, his voice was thin and subdued.
"Can we stop, please? I... I don't feel very well..."
"All right."
I pulled off the road, and hurried around the car to help him out. He lost his lunch, right then and there, coughing and dry-heaving until he began to have trouble breathing. All the while, I crouched down beside him, holding him and talking softly to him. Once he'd calmed down, he was all spent, and we sat down in the soft grass by the verge. He cried a little, leaning into my embrace and holding on to me as if his life depended on it. After a while, he gathered his thoughts, and started talking.
"He knew. Dad. He knew he was dying." Florian's tears were gone, now, replaced by a hollow look. "He knew, but he never told me. I don't understand it, Scott. He could've spared me all this. Prepared me for it. I wish I could hate him for it."
"No, you don't," I said, holding him closer. "Maybe he was scared of your reaction, or kept denying his illness to himself, and maybe that was the wrong thing to do. But you don't hate him, and you don't want to."
"I know." He sighed. "But it hurts so much. His life insurance was nullified, you know. They had this clause about congenital diseases. Not that it really matters, but... That was done ages ago. He kept preparing himself, but he never prepared me. Maybe it sounds selfish, but..."
"No, Florian, not selfish. Perfectly understandable. You have every right to feel slighted."
"I just wish he could have told me. Or at least hinted at it." He turned to meet my eyes, a look of fear on his face. "I wish the funeral was over with, Scott. I dread it."
"Why?"
"Because it will be the final thing. The final blow. After that, I can start dealing with things. Start dealing with the pain, the loss. But right now, it's just a stormcloud, something bad waiting to happen."
"C'mon, let's go back home." I got up, and pulled him to his shaky feet. "Have yourself a couple of days' rest. Be my guest for a while, and leave everything else for next week, at the very least."
He smiled at me, looking both happy and embarrassed at the same time. I drove the rest of the way home in silence, while we both thought things over. Once I'd parked the car, and we got ready to start hauling his things upstairs, he stopped me to give me a tight hug. I felt my heart flutter as he pulled me close to him, holding on a couple of seconds before he let go.
"I know you asked me to stop saying this, but thank you, Scott. Thank you so very much. You have no idea how glad I am that it was you who came to me that night."
"I think I do." I felt my cheeks flush, and judging by the ever so slight hint of puzzlement in Florian's face, he saw it through my fur. "I think I have a pretty fair idea."
We didn't talk much during the remainder of the day. I helped Florian set up his computer in the living room, and we put away most of the rest of his stuff. Several times, when he thought I wasn't looking, I caught him glancing at me, and there was a sort of curiosity in his eyes. At other times, though, he seemed on the verge of tears. But he didn't seem to want to talk, so I didn't ask. After Ten's good night-walk, we watched some junk TV, neither paying much attention to the screen. Some time after midnight, I must have fallen asleep, because the next time I became aware of my surroundings I lay in bed, undressed. Florian was snoozing next to me, and as I realised he must've carried me to bed, then taken my clothes off, I once more felt my cheeks burn. I found that strange; normally, I never blushed, but around him I got nervous, jittery. And so quick to turn red of hue. I felt another wave of emotions run through me. It was confusing. Like this, lying awake at night, I felt that my only sane choice in life would be to tell Florian that I loved him, but as soon as daylight arrived it all seemed wrong. I reached out and almost touched his sleeping face, so free of worries at the moment, but I pulled away in time. After the funeral, I told myself. Once he could begin to gather his options, I would make sure he knew I was one of them. Slightly frustrated at my own indecisiveness, I turned over to lie on my side, and I soon fell asleep again.