Seacliff

Chapter fifty-five: Blue film

1939

"Psst, Mortimer." Jemmy poked his head into Aidan's room, a devious grin splitting his face.

"What is it, Jem?" Aidan looked up from his books. "What are you so bloody excited about?"

Jemmy winked and motioned for his friend to follow. "You'll see."

Sighing, Aidan got up from his writing desk and followed Jemmy across the hall. He plopped down on his housemate's bed, while Jem locked the door and set up a portable projector on the bedside table.

"Where'd you nick that from?" Aidan wondered.

Jemmy didn't answer. He closed the curtains and put on a film. Aidan propped himself up on his elbows, arching a brow at the images that took shape on the wall. Jemmy joined him on top of the duvet. Aidan's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when the first characters showed up.

Women. Naked. And men. Also naked. Who –

The pictures had no sound, which Aidan could only be thankful for. Otherwise, his skull would have combusted, judging from the amount of heat already flooding his cheeks. Jemmy had the nerve to giggle for a few seconds, but then an eerie silence dominated the darkened room. The projector alone whirred and buzzed in the background.

Try as he might, Aidan couldn't peel his eyes from the revolting images. His entire body reacted to them, in ways he couldn't control. His fists tightened until his trimmed nails were digging into his palms. His breathing grew ragged.

Jemmy, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the show. His rapt eyes glowed with the white light beaming across the room. His mouth lingered slightly ajar and his hands moved across his body, converging on his groin.

Aidan heard gulping and gasping. He chanced another glance and saw Jemmy bite his lip. This time he did not look away. This time, Jemmy met and held his stare, daring him to act on whatever primal instinct bubbled in his bowels.

Their bodies twisted sideways at once, their faces inches apart. The stilted images flickered on the wall. The projector sputtered and died, thrusting the whole room into sudden blackness.

Tense and teetering on the edge of an abyss, Aidan tumbled blindly into uncharted depths. The boys ended up in a dazed jumble, each scrambling for something else. Aidan found himself on top of his friend, Jem's plump, parted lips, like cherries ripe for plucking, within his eager reach. Ask him, ask, ask...

But the words wouldn't come out of his clogged throat.

"Kiss me."

The plea made Aidan frown. And to indisputably solve the conundrum, Jemmy grabbed his friend's head, dragging him down into a sizzling kiss.

Aidan didn't know when or where their clothes went. He only realised they'd disappeared when Jemmy's rough carpenter's fingertips traced electric patterns on his exposed chest. His friend who had once punched him for an innocent schoolyard kiss, was now pulling him out of bed to take in the full glory of his nudity.

"You're like a classical masterpiece," Jemmy whispered, his voice charged with something dangerous. "You're exquisite..."

His hand ran over Aidan's shoulder blades and down his arm as he circled round the live exhibit. Jemmy's eyes, his magnificent, inquisitive wells of wonder, surveyed Aidan's body like he would a Renaissance sculpture.

"The old masters would kill to immortalise you. All their Greek gods would be modelled after you..."

As he spoke, Jemmy's fingers explored the lines of Aidan's torso, his touch featherlight yet searing.