A Good Night’s Sleep

After my life imploded, I thought things would eventually get better. They didn’t. Bone weary and unable to sleep unmedicated, I quit my job and left for Paris without telling anyone. My insides roiled with a palpable guilt that felt like an empty stomach just after vomiting but without any of the relief. Strangely, that was probably a sign that it was the right decision.

I came here because the city didn’t care about me. I don’t know anyone here. I don’t speak the language and have no intention of learning it. So far I’ve spent two weeks drifting through Paris’ endless museums, not talking to anyone for days at a time. I occasionally wondered if I’m dead. My stomach laughed, You don’t get off that easy.

One night, I went to a sauna. Within fifteen minutes, I had been fucked badly by a tipsy Arab. I walked the loop of the cubicles, losing track of time – it could’ve been morning outside; the city awash with a flash flood, something biblical splitting the sky. Still, I remained fully invested in this loop, the itch to see what lay around the corner and if its contents or attitude had changed in the last three minutes.

A man stared me down in a way that put me back into my body. I slowly wandered in, soaking in his impatience. He started divining my likes and dislikes. He backhanded me across my face and dropped his towel. He kept hitting and there was no time to think and this was exactly what I wanted. He pushed my body up against the corner of the cubicle, folding me as neatly as possible, whilst still maintaining enough access to fuck me.

After we’d both cum, the world brayed to be noticed. Terrible techno blared as if the building was ashamed of the sounds of fucking within. People chatted, caught up, bitched. I felt tired and more than anything upset that we had stopped. Life had gone and announced itself and here it was, a chill in a dim cubicle. I started to cry. He bent down to me – I was sat on the floor between the cubicle and the door – a soft voice asking me if I was okay. I took his hand and hit my face with it. He looked sadder than I did. I told him to fuck off. I called him a cunt, a limp dick sissy, a useless fucking cunt. He left. I watched the men follow their tracks. He never rejoined them and must’ve left. No one was brave enough to come in but I sat, covered in two people’s cum, daring them to.

After about 45 minutes, the cold had become unbearable so I got up. I sought out the red LED in the corner. Dinner time. I showered in preparation for the whole new clientele who were waiting. I left at lunchtime the next day, forced out by my stomach. I felt an urge to write something and took out a tiny pocket-sized notebook and a little pencil I’d swiped from a betting shop. Nothing came. I flicked through its used pages: not a salvageable line. I wrote my mobile number on about fifteen sheets and sat outside the entrance to the sauna. I gave them out to guys going in. One guy who was leaving, and had cruised me earlier, saw me give it to someone and wanted one but I acted confused, speaking in clearly made-up German and pointing angrily at the notebook until he left.

As I walked home, I wrote my number on each of the remaining pages of the notebook. I gave a slip to every half-decent looking man that I saw. I passed a site, called the builders over and gave them some too. Most didn’t know what to say. One or two laughed. I groped myself over my jeans and the remaining few started to shout at me but a younger builder pulled them aside and spoke to them. Regarder. And I could see pity. They looked at me like he’d told them I was a madman. I couldn’t bear it and headed for what passed as home.

The next day, I went back and the young builder was waiting outside the empty site, apparently for a lift. He smiled a little, testing the waters, but I didn’t have the capacity to respond so my face remained blank. Something in my face, unknown to me, must’ve softened, or perhaps he just imagined it did.

“Did anyone ring you yet?”

Of course he spoke perfect English. I shrugged my shoulders – I hadn’t charged my phone in a while.

“Why didn’t you give me your fucking number?”

“Because you’d fucking ring.”

He laughed. “Didn’t you want the others to?”

“Yeah, because it wouldn’t mean anything to them.”

He nodded, slowly mouthing an O, patronising me.

A car pulled up. “Give me your number.” I did. “And charge your phone. No one could get through.” He got in the back of the car and stared out the back of the window, as if I was a fucking sunrise.

Sometime later, my charged phone beeped with annoyance. Seventeen messages, all in French, mostly abuse. I saved those. One was in hushed tones: whatever he was going on about, it was a lot: très très très très très. And then, it was him again. He said hi and left his number. Didn’t ask me to call him. Didn’t say talk soon. I rang.

“Leo, the big guy from the South, the guy you gave your number to first, wants to beat the living shit out of you. The other guys said that he was the one you wanted and that it was Leo’s fault you came here. They spent the rest of the day calling him a faggot. The foreman had to send him out for supplies to stop him from punching them. They made up a little song and sang it at him as he left, a la recherche de son petit pédé, sung to the tune of So Long, Farewell from The Sound of Music.

“And what do you they call you?”

He laughed. Nothing fucking bothered him. “My name. They’re mostly all married with kids and get laid, at best, a couple of times a year. I told them how often and easily I get laid and that shut them up. Also, I never rose to the bait.”

“You think Leo would be up for fucking me and knocking me around.”

“I can ask. He’d definitely be up for giving you a smack.”

I laughed.

He continued. “Or I could do it instead. That what you want, pédé?” He had made up the song. His voice was low and seductive.

I used to be so well-behaved. I was hard again. “Come over.”

I gave him directions and about half an hour later he arrived shirtless, wearing just work stained work trousers and a bike helmet. A sheen of sweat clung to him. It must’ve been hot out. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been out in the day time. I wasn’t sure what day it was either.

Barely in the door and he pushed me to my knees and started to fuck my mouth. He slapped my face as if gauging the temperature. I told him not to waste my fucking time. He punched me hard in the stomach, leaving me breathless and filling my mouth with his now hard cock before I could catch my breath. But then he faltered.

“Have you always enjoyed pain?”

I sighed, somehow with my whole body.

“This is what I want, right now. Do I always? No. Do I want to explain why I want it right now? No. Do I want to discuss it? No.”

He ordered me onto my back and started to fuck me. He backhanded me a few times across my face. He was too invested in his thrusting and forgot about everything else. When he looked at me, I let him see how bored I was. He shifted a bit, trying for a better angle, but held my gaze. After a minute or so, he’d gone limp.

He took out his phone and sent a message. He dressed slowly, and in silence. I hadn’t noticed his black boots – he’d kicked them off almost immediately. He unlaced and relaced them. He looked angry. I spread out like a dog at his feet, and curled around his boots. He rolled his eyes.

The doorbell rang. He stepped out of my grip and answered it. It was Leo, looking confused, until he saw me and barrelled in. He didn’t care that I was naked. He beat the shit out of me as promised. He bust my lip, bruised a rib, knocked out a tooth. The young builder sat behind him watching, touching himself. Leo didn’t see that. He did however notice I was hard and kicked me in the crotch and spat on me, over and over. I thought my balls might rupture. After they left – Leo first, after he suddenly stopped, having gotten scared how much he was fucking me up and how I was putting up no resistance, and later, the young nameless builder who didn’t deign to touch me again but soon after Leo left, came on my face – I slept soundly, still in the hall, for almost 24 hours.