The Prodigal
Fifty
IT WAS SEVEN-THIRTY I was depressed and starving. Stupid combination since there were people who really were starving. Melody, Lissa, and Wendy waited to have dinner until we got home. They’d fed the boys and after I’d hugged each of them, Damon and Drew went to their room to do ‘homework,’ as they said.
“Third grade is tough and Damon is trying to set a good example for Drew in first grade. It’s so sweet I can hardly bear it,” Lissa said.
“How do they feel about having a baby sister coming?” I asked. I just hadn’t had much time to spend with them. They were with us or in school until Jack got back from Boston, but three days a week I was putting in a twelve-hour day and twice I was in school or reading papers. I had to figure out how to spend more time with my sons.
“They’re ecstatic—at the moment,” Lissa laughed. “They asked whether the baby could share their apartment in the new house.”
“What are we going to do about that? I mean a new house?”
“We’ve got a real estate agent looking for us and she’ll tell us what we need to do to get this house ready to go on the market. It’s going to be a while before we get moved,” Melody said. “We want to create as little disruption to our schooling, jobs, and the boys as possible. We won’t even be ready to look at houses for a couple of months.”
“I love tuna noodle casserole,” I said. Not the most intelligent thing to say, but I had a mouthful of it and I was hungry. Besides which, I wasn’t really there. I was thinking about resigning my commission. It was all so futile. No one asked what I had painted today, which was fine. I didn’t want to talk about it after I’d told the story to Andy and Bychkova. Kate heard it and probably warned everyone off. It seemed too hopeless. I stood to clear my plate and Wendy caught my eye. Her hand went to the tiger eye stone at her throat. She left her plate in Kate’s hand as she headed downstairs. Lissa took my plate.
“I think you have an appointment,” Lissa said. I looked at the three and they smiled at me a little sadly.
“I’m sorry…” I started.
“You need to take care of some things downstairs,” Kate whispered.
Lissa was closest so I kissed her first. Melody was standing in line for a kiss as soon as Lissa and I parted. Kate wrapped her arms around me and kissed me so longingly I was ready to rush her to the bedroom.
“She’s your sub,” Kate whispered, “but we’re all responsible. I love you, darling.”
“I love you, Kitten. We’ll talk later.”
“Not tonight,” she chuckled.
I took a deep breath before I entered Wendy’s room without knocking. I try, but sometimes it’s so hard to be a good master—especially when I was feeling depressed. It reminded me too much of that awful night when Wendy ran from the encampment in flames. That night I’d become her hero and, frankly, I didn’t feel all that heroic right now.
I pushed the door open and walked in, expecting to find Wendy kneeling naked beside the bed.
She wasn’t.
She was sitting on the bed, still in her jeans and T-shirt, holding her collar in her hands.
“Wendy? Tiger, is something wrong? Have I hurt you?”
“No, Tony. If you want me naked on my knees, I’ll gladly take that position. But I thought maybe what you needed just now was a friend.”
“You know me better than anyone else.”
“No. Surprisingly, we all know you pretty well, but when we put what we know together, we know you better than anyone.”
She scooted up and leaned against the headboard, motioning me to sit next to her. When we were settled, she put her arm around me and just held me. I sorted through what I was feeling and felt the tickle of emotions. Sorrow, depression, anger, disgust, and even hope.
“Tell me about today’s painting,” she finally said.
I told her. I told her about all the emotions it dredged up for me to paint it and how mad I got because we just weren’t doing anything. How I realized the entire mural was meaningless or worse because it gave us an excuse to believe we were acting on behalf of the homeless. That each time I thought about it, I was overwhelmed with the memory of her running from the camp in flames.
“My. You are a terrible person.”
“Huh?”
“To hear you tell it, it’s hopeless so there’s no reason for you to do anything. There’s no reason for you to have volunteered to sit outside in the cold all night once a week. There’s no reason for you to have sounded the alarm and rescued me when I was being burned alive by my own father. There’s no reason for you to have painted that mural and raised those funds and given me a platform to tell people about the homeless. You should have this back, because there’s no reason for you to have cared enough to take on the responsibility of being my master.”
She held out her collar to me. I was speechless. I twisted around to look at her but didn’t offer to take the collar.
“Am I that bad, Tiger? Am I so filled with despair there’s no hope?”
“Only in your eyes, Tony. To me, you are still my hero.” She kept the collar held out in offering.
“Tiger, do you want me to take your collar? Do you want to be free from me as your master?”
“I want you to be free, Tony,” she said. Tears glistened in her eyes but she refused to look away. Did I want to be free of her? Damn it, there’s just too much crap in life to give up what is dear. I took the collar.
“Wendy Martin, I am free. I am acting of my own free will. I am asking you. Will you accept me and no other as your master? Will you obey me and serve me as long as you wear this collar? Will you look to me for guidance, protection, love, and comfort? Will you lift me when I stumble and correct me when I’m wrong; chasten me when I err and guide me when I’m lost? Wendy Martin, will you be my Tiger?”
According to physics, an object cannot move from one set of coordinates to another without passing through all the points between or something like that. I swear; Wendy transported herself between seated on the bed and kneeling in front of me without moving.
“Yes, Master. I swear to serve you always in all ways.”
“Then wear this collar and do not offer it to me again unless you intend to leave me.” I put the collar around her neck and she collapsed against my legs hugging herself to me.
“Thank you, master. Thank you. I love you.”
“Why are you still dressed?” I demanded. Wendy is normally a well-ordered and self-disciplined person. I’ve never seen an article of her clothing on the floor until that moment. Her T-shirt, bra, jeans, panties, and socks flew and hadn’t settled before she was kneeling before me looking straight ahead. “Kneel on the bed,” I ordered.
“But, master, you are still dressed. Don’t you want me to…?”
“Is this your idea of obedience?” In an instant, Wendy was kneeling at the edge of the bed, her butt sticking up toward me and her eyes focused straight ahead. I stepped back so I was sure she couldn’t see me and pulled off my belt as noisily as I could. Wendy didn’t like pain. Under the rule of her father and Rafe, she had learned to accept it as part of her submission. I’d never struck her. I could see the scars from their beatings lacing her back. It made me so sick I wanted to vomit.
The position of utter submission and defenselessness, however, had Wendy leaking her juices down both thighs. I looped the belt in half and held the loop in my left hand and the ends in my right, making an “O” with a handle on each end. Mustering as much strength as I could in one short movement, I jerked my hands apart. The center of the belt came together with a crack that echoed in the little room.
Wendy came.
Without bothering to strip, I dropped my pants and stepped forward to plunge into Wendy from behind. It tipped her into a second shrieking orgasm that was probably heard in the master bedroom upstairs. As she came down, I withdrew, realigned, and plunged into her asshole in one steady move. When she came this time, I couldn’t hold back and pumped her rectum full of my seed. We fell forward onto the bed, still joined and rolled to our sides so I wouldn’t crush her. We lay there with our feet still hanging off the bed.
“I love you, Tiger. You knew what to say, what to do, and you had the courage to do both. You are the bravest person I know.”
“Master? May I speak?”
“Do you have something to say, Tiger? Did I frighten you too badly?”
“Oh no, sir. You frightened me just right. But I have a message from the rest of the family. I was the designated speaker.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because they knew I could get through to you.”
“Well, not unless you give me the message.” We laughed and my cock continued to vibrate in her rectum.
“You are the most faithful person any of us know. I depend on you for a part of my life that I can’t otherwise control. When you just spoke the words, to look to you for guidance, protection, love, and comfort, I took that vow; but Melody, Lissa, and Kate do the same thing. Melody and Lissa are able to share their marriage because of your support and love. You had so much faith in them that they would still be your family that it set them free to be more than they were. You had so much faith in me that I could be more than I was that you took me as my master. You had so much faith in Kate that you waited for her, always believing she would come back and not censuring her when she did. We trust in your faithfulness because we know that no matter what happens, you will risk all for us. And though Lissa and Melody are married and I’m your odalisque and Kate will be your wife, we know that we are each as precious as the other in your sight and you will never abandon us.”
The chapel was still under construction and didn’t officially have services except for the nightly gathering of the Jesuits, so Kate and I had the sanctuary space to ourselves unless there was a masonry crew, carpenters, or painters working. The terrazzo floor was covered until the painting was done which helped deaden the sound in the cavernous room. Dedication of the chapel had been set for the week before graduation at SCU on June ninth. I wasn’t too worried about being finished by then. With Adolfo and Morgan mixing plaster and paints for me and doing my prep work, we were gearing up steadily. Kate had three students who were doing the actual mosaics and a fourth who did the painting and firing of the tiles. I was fascinated by their process and spent a whole workday just watching. Morgan and Adolfo both had tests and I couldn’t face doing all the plaster work and the painting, too.
Some of the mosaic work could have been done in the studio at PCAD, but both the advisor on Kate’s project and Doc felt it would be better served if entirely constructed onsite. Apparently, there are several methods for applying mosaics to a wall, but because of the complexity of the project Kate’s team had chosen to work with fiberglass mesh as a backing to which they glued the tiles. Then the mesh-backed tiles would be applied to the wall in sections. The tiles would be grouted after they were securely adhered to the wall. The spaces for the Stations were stone walls between the aisle windows on either side of the nave. The spaces were five feet wide and about ten feet high. Each of the walls had an indentation, much like the spaces where I was painting the frescoes. These spaces were the same size as my panels, but were vertical.
I’d seen Kate’s paintings for the mosaics and they weren’t the size of the two-foot by three-foot alcoves she was putting them in. The remaining space in the alcove would be simple tile. Kate’s paintings emerged from the background in ever greater detail as they reached the single focal point. The mosaic went from a neatly ordered row of two-inch tiles at the edge to ever smaller bits of ceramic at the focal point.
Once the entire wall was assembled horizontally, the mesh was cut into sections so they could use tile mastic and glue it to the masonry wall. It took days for each panel. The result, after grout had been applied to the finished mosaic, was stunning.
Andy put Kate through the same drill that he did me after each of her panels was finished. I wondered if he recorded her as she told him the story of each station. He had seen the drawings and paintings before the mosaics were set, but of course, the story was pre-defined. The Jesuits weren’t messing with the scriptures. So, Andy never asked for Kate’s explanation until the work was finished.
“What is this, Kate?” he asked as they stood near me. I came down off my scissor-lift to look. It was eerie how there was so much subtlety in the shading that brought the image depth and detail.
“It’s a mother’s tear,” she said.
“Can you recite the passage?”
“Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children,” Kate said softly. I thought that was it, but after a moment’s pause, she continued. I strained to catch her words. “For behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bare, and the paps which never gave suck.’” She turned away and I saw tears in her eyes. She looked at me and shrugged. “I’m blessed,” she whispered.
“Reverend Larkin?” I said when he answered. “This is Tony Ames.”
“Hi, Tony. You know, I’m not preaching anymore and you are an adult. Why don’t you call me Ellis?”
“Thank you, sir. It will take a little getting used to, though.”
“Well, what can I do for you?”
“First of all, I wanted to let you know that Kate and I are getting married on the Fourth of July this year.”
“Going to make sure all the family anniversaries are the same, eh?”
“Yes. We are just one family.”
“That’s great news. Congratulations.”
“There is something else… uh, Ellis.”
“Yes?”
“I’m working on a story-parable thing and I need some help. I’m not ready to talk to anyone, but thought maybe you could help me.”
“Tell me the story.”
I started telling Ellis about a dark time in my life. I wasn’t trying to relive it, but rather to understand it. I also tried not to be too graphic about how we’d started with an orgy and how I’d deteriorated into depression and then anger. How I’d let my anger rule my time at the World Games. How I hadn’t been able to decide on a final project and was ready to quit school and leave my family behind. Ellis probed my feelings and I told him about how in one way or another each of my lovers had left me at least once and that I had turned my back on them as many times. But there was never a time that I could move on and not look back. I even told him about the picture I painted and then destroyed because it was too horrible to face.
“Tony, let’s consider this from a different viewpoint than relationships. Let’s say we go out to cut a Christmas tree. There are lots of trees, but they are too short, too tall, too fat, too sparse. Then we see the perfect tree. Only it’s not the whole tree. This tree is fifty feet tall, but the top seven feet are perfect. So, we shinny up the tree and cut the top off. We go home and have a nice holiday with the perfect tree. But the tree we left in the forest without the top seven feet doesn’t die. It bleeds for a while, but the sap hardens. A branch near the top starts to thrust up into the air higher and by the next season or maybe a couple years later, the tree is growing tall again. The thing is, the tree never really heals. Let me say, is never restored. It will never be what it started to become. In five hundred years when it falls over, someone will look at the way it grew and still be able to see the place where it had been wounded by our saw, even though it grew taller than ever, put out more branches, and was beautiful. In a way, though, it could just never replace what was lost.” By the time we finished talking, I had the pieces of the puzzle. Maybe Kate and I would never be what we would have been, but we could be what we became. The world was not as hopeless as I feared.
I started calling models. I needed people every day in order to make it work. And I wanted specific people to model for me. I was lucky most of them were in town.
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