The Porcelain Doll

Made To Kiss The Mask

John didn't remember moving; he was staring at the carpet and watching as his feet indented into the stiff new fibers of the unfamiliar carpet. It was the same color as the last, though noticeably newer. The path to the bed was still hardly tread, and it felt as if his feet were one of the first to christen it. The Doll steered him slowly, though when at last John's legs pressed into the mattress he was turned to face the mask again, staring into the dark depths that hosted no more than a faint sparkle, only a slight reflection that might represent a set of human eyes on the other side. The arms captured him, and together the two fell back upon the blankets of the bed, with John's back pressed hard into the mattress while he struggled to accommodate the whole of the Porcelain Doll's weight upon his body. The other man tangled their legs, capturing John's face within his hands and pressing the cold shell upon his lips, as if he had forgotten he would never make direct contact. It was uncharacteristic of him, even John could tell by the way it was executed. It was awkward, uncomfortable for the both of them. It was an action the Doll must have acted upon in his own human intentions, not of his responsibilities as a whore. There was an impulse here, almost as if he wished as much as John that the Porcelain did not separate them. On John's first visits he was never made to kiss the mask, in fact he hardly expected any man to pay for that and enjoy it remotely. The Porcelain was smooth yet unaccommodating, tasting like various smells of polish and lacquer, with hardly a slit to even represent what might be an actual pair of lips. Instead it was molded into the expected form, unmoving, unyielding, and emotionless. Though on the other side there must have been passion, movement enough to justify John's continual affection plastered onto the porcelain he was faced with. He couldn't feel the other man's lips but he knew they were there, he knew they were just as active as his own. The Doll was moving his head, he was pressing harder and harder until the mask was in danger of chipping one of John's teeth. His grip was sliding, now finding John's skin to be slippery and difficult to anchor within. The heat was growing, the humidity dominating, filling the room to such a degree that they might have been swimming in a manmade fog. John clutched his fingers through the divots of the man's arms, finding the folds where his muscles flexed and grabbing on with his fingernails, sliding through the perspiration and dropping his lips down onto the Doll's neck, just to taste something familiar, to taste something human. The man enjoyed it, he could tell, he could feel it! The Doll leaned into him, for but a moment he seemed to give up his role as leader, he seemed to be just as smitten as was his customer. It was a moment John would never forget, feeling that all-encompassing body slacken within his own, falling almost desperately under his well-timed kiss. Tonight they were both enjoying themselves, they were both lavishing in the other's company. Their evening might have gone on forever, their enthusiasm never dwindling and their passion never subsiding. John might have lay in that bed for days, weeks even, with his legs curled backwards around the waist of his companion, his face pressed into the silk pillows which smelled of fabric softeners and felt gritty between his teeth. He might have complied for as long as he could manage, until the heat stifled him or his heart gave out entirely. And yet as with all good things, this too had to come to an end. And before John knew it their bodies separated, his partner pulled away, and by the time John was able to look back he was met with the retreating back of the most impressive Porcelain Doll, the man collecting his robe from the floor and draping it gently across his body as if in mourning.
"I should expect Wilson's knock any moment now." The Doll explained quietly, turning back to face John only after he had secured his robe across his chest and hidden himself away behind the silk. John lay back within the blankets, unable to get up until he was given a direct order to go.
"It has not come yet." John pointed out.
"All men have time limits." The Doll sighed.
"I might pay again, and lay back with you once more?" John suggested. His companion was silent, his long white fingers tangling within the cuff of the long draping sleeve of the other arm, as if he was trying to hide even his hands from the temptations of his customer.
"There is bound to be a line."
"I may be bound to wait in it. I will be the last, Sir, if only for the honor of falling asleep next to you." John promised, at last clambering to his feet and approaching the Doll once again. The man stepped back, as if he was afraid to be confronted so abruptly. John stayed his step, approaching as one might with a wild animal. He allowed his movements to be predicable, he allowed himself to appear quite tame.
"Mr. Watson, I do not sleep here." the Doll muttered.
"Then I shall follow you home." John suggested.
"I will have you arrested." The Doll promised. John merely smirked, reaching out his hands to grasp the man's shoulders again, pulling their bodies close so that he could press his lips once more to the cold, unyielding mask. He hoped the Doll might feel the love that was exchanged, even through the barrier which was forced between them.
"I can take no for an answer." John assured at last, drawing his lips away and looking up remorsefully upon the dark shadows above him. "I just wish I could love you as a man should."
"I am not made to be loved, only to be experienced." The Doll assured.
"Perhaps not, but sometimes our hearts are beyond our control." John admitted. The Doll sighed heavily, as if this was not his first time hearing such declarations. All of which were unacted upon, all of which fell through. Was it John's duty now to be the first to capture this man's heart, or had he already succeeded?
"Every man sees a different face behind the mask. You love who you see, not who you are faced with." The Doll muttered regretfully, finally lifting his hands towards John's arms and trailing his fingers lovingly down towards his hand. However hard John tried to catch the Doll's fingers they escaped, and before long the man had lingered away, pushing his hand down upon the coated layers of his hair.
"Get dressed, Mr. Watson. I have another customer soon." was his final instruction, before at last the Doll vanished behind a dressing curtain and was lost to John for the night.