Victory

San Francisco, Late September, 1935.

Sliding, sliding, out of my head,

Over and under - my love breathes into me.

My ass is his for now, not forever.

No forever...

Bastard.

My posterior stung from his cane, as I lay face down on my bed, atop a stack of pillows.

"we're using the big dipper tonight, darlin'..." of course.

This was his favorite punishment - halfway because I liked it, and halfway because I didn't.

"AAAUUUGGGH!" I felt my ass split open, his hands pulling at my shoulders to advance in me.

"Ma bébé's gonna keep cool with me, ain't she?"

A most painful, pleasurable turning inside out of me drew a tortured groan.

"We have an agreement. You know this."

"AUGHHHHH, Dammit! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"

He chuckled, "What a sweetheart."

I met Claude on one of my lonely post-work excursions, at a secret musician's union club. I knew where each one was, and would rotate between them. Unlike my Freudian colleagues who slummed it with determination as a rebellion against Victorian norms, I was one of those square misfits who would show up alone in their work attire, scribbling in their notepads while drinking regular tea - I had simply used my peers to discover the whereabouts before venturing out on my own. Approaching my forties, single and queerly deviant, I was a rebel, even to the rebels. A quiet one.

My colleagues were well-versed in trauma, and kept a plethora of books on the subject in our clinic. A favorite writer of mine was a pioneer of somatic psychology, by the name of Wilhelm Reich. I’d heard the man vilified in intellectual circles and was gently chided by my peers for defending him and his methods.

My point of view was that Reich was seen as a threat to the field by those psychoanalysts who enjoyed “curing” female patients with “hysteria” in nefarious ways... Being the first to introduce the body to psychology, he would have taken that fun away from them.

Had my falsely progressive comrades known everything about me, they would have sent me to the sanitarium, too. Though I attempted discretion, it was exhausting for me to keep up pretenses. It hardly mattered if one did... They’d find you out anyway. It was a good thing I preferred my own company.

I lived on the Cut, in Eureka Valley, right behind another queer thing - an Irish, Protestant church. I'd do the daily crab-walk down the slope of 22nd to Castro to catch a streetcar to my downtown apprenticeship. After a day of tending the wounds of other sad souls, I detoured to the Fillmore for an unconventional workspace to gather my notes.

My attraction to such a place was the music - more specifically, Creole. I adored the types of music that had both radical and historical elements. The fast music sends my hand into a flurry, the soft music slows the tempo of my pen strokes. The regulars there regarded my presence as a sad, yet amusing anomaly - my queer presence would have made me the worst kind of mole, so no one assumed I was that.

The Third Reich was gaining traction, but the U.S. hadn’t learnt of the extent to which Europe would go yet. I only knew that this not-so-great nation was sending boatloads of my people back from where they came. America has enough of us, I guess. My family had... had enough of me - for some time, and I them. We were dead to each other.

This night, I was distracted by the trombone player, who was equally distracted - with me. His gaze burned, and I found it difficult to finish my notes. When the band took a break, he approached my table. His expression was awe-struck, and his advance was lyrical and clever. "How does one sit here/ma Cherie/working and drinking tea?"

No blush could hide on my fair-skinned face, so he knew I liked him. With a coy smile I answered, "I can't think when it's too quiet, sometimes."

"So, life's too quiet, huh?" He shot his own knowing smile my way. "May I join you?"

I nodded, closing my notebook. He eyed it and playfully remarked, "What homework is this joint good for?"

"Notes. About patients."

"You're a doctor?"

"No, well... sort of."

He eyed me with intrigue. "What's this... 'sort of' you speak of?"

"I listen to people, and help them feel better."

His eyebrows shot up, and he laughed, "I know a few professions like that!"

I sneered, "Well I'm hardly dressed for that kind."

"I'd like to see you hardly dressed, if you can handle it."

My look turned from bashful to mischievous, as I teased, "Just what would I be handling, sir?"

"I prefer Daddy, if you don't mind."

Ah... I guess they can sniff me out. That holiest of unholy recognition caught in my chest, and I felt immediately pinned in my chair and lost for words. My eyes locked on his, I felt myself give him that desperate look that comes whether I want it to or not.

He answered it. "hello, precious."

I felt myself huff in that way when one might laugh or cry.

I was cumming. Hard, and with tears. Not the farewell I wanted. My unabashed soul screamed as he pummeled me, "DON'T Don't don't... Don't LEAVE ME DADDY!" Followed by more muffled crying into the duvet.

"No forever, precious, no forever. We already discussed this." He paused, rubbing my back. I thought I heard his usually cool and collected voice catch - ever so slightly. I took it for all I could.

"I can't bear this horrible world without you..."

"Those that run this horrible world would skin us alive if the knew, bebe."

"Can't I just live with you?"

His silence at this hung heavy in the air. So I filled it. "Isn't your neighborhood safer?"

He stopped moving in me and pulled out, leaving me empty and cold. He turned to sit on the bed beside me. "No neighborhood is safe for us, ma cherie. We can't play house - it's time to stop before the bomb goes off."

"Why must you do this to me?"

His breathing answered, quickening in my dimly lit single room occupancy.

"I'm not who they're trying to protect, anyway..."

Claude spun around to face me and bellowed, "WHO THE HELL YOU THINK YOU'RE KIDDING, RAIZY?"

His outburst made my ears ring, and my sobbing, which had just started to calm down, started up again. I rolled off the pillows and sat upright, burying my face in my hands.

He leapt off the bed and stood a pace away, "I WOULD NOT HAVE FUCKED YOU, EVER, HAD I KNOWN WHAT... FANTASY... YOU ENTERTAIN!" His voice wavered, and I looked up at him through my tears. His eyes were also streaming. This was the first time I had seen him weep. He didn't attempt to tone it down, but for the volume. "I love you, Raizel - too much for entertainment."

"I love you, daddy - too much for this life. I have nobody but you..."

"My beautiful rose... " He slowly walked closer, till he stood directly over me, looking down into my eyes. "you'll NEVER have anybody but me. I'm useless to you."

"You're anything but useless Daddy..."

He left me again, crossing the room before whipping his head back around. "DON'T you want KIDS???"

"We can adopt them!"

"From where?" He shouted, throwing up his hands.

"Babies are left behind all the time - "

"OH no... " He came close to me again, his face in mine. "don't... you... dare say we're picking the dumpsters for family. What trash do you think will survive us?"

I turned my back to him, wrapping my arms around myself. "Well go on, and leave me for some ungrateful bitch who could take you or leave you!!" I yelled back. "You only ever keep BITCHY WOMEN!!"

His face became almost stone-like at my words, and it became very quiet. He finally said, softly, "What a sweet, bitchy woman wants from me, I can deliver." He moved his face close to mine. "But you are no bitch. You're not a woman of this world."

"Then what am I?"

"A princess."

My tears came again, and my RAGE.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!!!" I flew off the bed and into the kitchenette in a torrent and began throwing my dishes at him.

"GO ON, GET OUT, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!" A teacup flew.

"YOU LYING,"

Crash.

"SHIT TALKING,"

Crash.

"SWAGGERING,"

Crash.

"COCKY, CARDBOARD CUT-OUT!!"

He dodged each volley before maneuvering back my way and pulling me down by my nape. "Now, now... that's enough of that... I'm not letting this one slide." He had somehow transmuted my rage into his own calm - as per usual - with his cane at the ready. "My little buttercup needs to calm down."

I struggled against the shards of glass on the floor - the broken china that was passed down to me.

"Your soft baby skin is all cut up, love. Now stop that and stay still." I collapsed into his grip, my heartbreak having spent its last, brief armor. He brushed off what tiny shards had stuck themselves into my skin, and carried me to the bed as I bawled, laying me face down. "We both know what happens when you act up like this."

Of course "we" did. I craved it, in times like these - when I felt his grip on me slipping. My face down on the bed, I wept as he disciplined me.

Feeling completely naked in my work clothes, I sat there, in a sub paralysis awaiting orders.

"My Beauty's in the wrong atmosphere. Get yourself home, and your Daddy'll follow."

I nodded and grabbed my things, preparing to stand up. As I did, he took hold of my arm. "Pass me your key, sweetheart, and don't look for me. Don't ever look back."

"okay, see you soon."

I walked the nighttime streets and did what was told. I kept my gaze forward as I caught the streetcar back home, climbing my slope and the stairs like I had no plans at all. Once inside, I waited anxiously for his arrival, finishing my notes to occupy my mind.

It had to have been only fifteen minutes or so, but it felt like hours before I heard a soft rapping at my door. I looked through the peep hole. It was him. I opened the door quietly as I could, and he stepped inside, his face expressionless. Once my door clicked closed, and all the locks were in place, he set down his trombone and hung his fedora and coat on my coat stand.

Opting for comfort, he sat on my bed, and looked up at me with that same expression he wore while calling me "precious" for the first time. "Come sit on Daddy's lap, angel."

I obeyed, and felt myself melt into his hands as he propped me on his knees. Wrapping his arms tight about my waist, with my arms embracing his neck, he laid out the terms. "This ain't forever, sweetheart. This is a meeting of the minds till we two get tired of it. Agreed?"

I nodded.

"C'mon now... what do you answer?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good girl. Now - another thing - you can't go out to the club no more. We gotta do this safely, understand?"

"Yes Daddy."

"We can't be seen together outside. In the daytime, I don't know you, you don't know me. Got it?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good. Now... I want you to ask me something."

I felt lost for words, in an altered state with this new person. I blinked at him, and he clarified, "No wrong questions... you ask Daddy anything you want."

I did. "How much can I see you?"

"Every night, if you want, but I won't be sleeping here, EVER. I get in by 3 o'clock, out by 6 o'clock. How's that sound?"

I felt touched that he'd offer himself so freely. I bit my lip and felt my eyes sting, nodding 'yes.'

He smirked at my timidity. "Come on, gumdrop, what do you say?"

"It's good, Daddy."

He smiled, "Alright."

"My girl is nice and calm, now?"

I still cried, but silently. He continued, "This is my last night here, precious. I love you, so so much."

He lay on top of me, tousling my hair. "You promise me you'll find yourself a good man, angel - don't pine for your old Daddy, got it?"

I couldn't answer. My sobs were so great that all I could do was shake under his weight and warmth. It was 6 o'clock. If I had no fear for his safety I would have held onto his leg and made him drag me. "You stay right here on this bed and don't move till you hear me outside. Got it?"

I let one last mournful wail out in reply. I heard his own shuddering sigh in my ear, and he squeezed me from behind, long and hard, before getting up and entering the hallway.

I heard the door click, and stayed put as ordered, till I heard his shoes outside. Then I stayed put some more - wishing I'd die right there. But then I heard something out on the street that made me perk up. It sounded hostile.

"Hey you, what 're ya doin here?"

"Never you mind sir. On business."

I crept to my window and saw a police man facing the way Claude always walked to head home.

Not this...

"You better hold up and show me your papers, son."

"I'm sorry, did I leave the country? I don't think I have to show you my damn papers - "

I then heard two rounds fired, and the sound of someone running. I collapsed onto the floor, my gut feeling like I'd been punched, and muffled my cries with my wrist. I was almost certain I'd do myself in before or after work today.

I lay awake on my floor till the sun rose. I decided I might just blend in with the floor for a while - deliberating over whether I should run in front of a street car, or jump off a building, or drown myself... till my phone rang. I ignored it the first time, but it rang a second time. I crawled across the floor to make it stop.

"H - h - hellllooo?" I said meekly, my voice still raspy from crying all night.

"Angel, it's me." He was ALIVE?

I perked up so fast I thought I'd hit the roof. "Oh my god, Daddy... are you okay?"

"I'm fine sweet pea. Just fine."

I cried again, my relief washing over me. "I thought you were gone... "

He wasn't done. "Look, Bebe... I think you're gonna have to leave town. There's people watching - people we don't even cross paths with."

My relief faded quickly. "I can't afford to leave... I have nowhere to go..."

"Angel, you can't afford to stay."

My whole self felt like lead. "What do I do?"

"You got any folks you can stay with?"

"We don't talk to each other."

"Well, you better call 'em."

I knew they wouldn't take me. It was no use. I decided I'd ask a colleague instead.

Claude never undressed with me. This was part of the deal. I naked, and he dressed. I wasn't to wear anything upon his arrival at 3'oclock. In fact, I wasn't to be awake. He insisted I get myself to bed early, so our fun wouldn't make me sleep deprived for work.

I would wake to the creaking of the door, and all the locks clicking into place. He'd approach, lifting the covers. "Hi angel, Daddy's home." I'd feel his warm hands all over me, getting me ready. In my half-asleep stupor my heat would rise and my sweetness would wetten for him. I was his, however he wanted me, whatever he felt like doing. As his fleshy marionette, I was at my happiest.

My tears, my sighs, my insides, my heart, my soul... were all for him. Everything for him.

One night, I was on his lap on one of my dining chairs in the middle of the room. We were both sweat-drenched and his shirt was soaked where it touched his chest. I felt the lumps underneath, and knew already what it meant, and looked down. He realized what I saw and paused his own reverie, looking at me as if I had seen his innermost thoughts. I took advantage of this moment, lifting myself off him and kneeling before him. I began to unbutton his shirt.

"Bebe - " he moved his hand to stop me.

"It's okay, Daddy... I love you." I lifted his hands and placed them resting on his knees as I knelt before him, continuing to unbutton his shirt, till all was exposed. The tracks, pathways and ropes in the topography of his chest laid bare, I kissed them over until I had loved every inch.

He pulled me to him tight, stood up holding me and carried me to the bed, where he pummeled me till I soaked the sheets all the way through.