Page 72 of Judged by Him

Enrique grimaced. “Well, one hundred percent, no, but I wasn’t left with the impression he did. She was undisturbed and covered.”

McKenzie fidgeted nervously. “Lubinsky kept guard over the stairwells and the boy’s cabin until arrangements were made to expel him.”

Jason dismissed Enrique and Lubinsky then returned to his seat with a deep sigh. “I will go speak to the boy.”

McKenzie frowned. “I know the kind of man you are, Mr. Lucas. I’m not an innocent. The world of gay men is full of Doms and subs, subtle or overt. I won’t stand for the boy to be hurt in anyway. He is under my protection, and if you wish to press criminal charges, I am happy to arrange for it to be done. However, the news of….”

“I understand, Captain.” He admired the man’s honesty. “I’ve no desire to sully my own yacht’s status as a charter vessel. I have no plans to hurt him, McKenzie. Merely to question him. You have to appreciate that, though my techniques may not be to your liking. As you probably are aware, we Doms like to humiliate. I don’t intend to lay a finger on him. I want to hear him confess and give me an explanation of his behaviour. That is all. As for charges, I will consider my options.”

***

Jason bounded up the stairs. He felt energised by his lingering anger towards Ted. He could control it—he generally did—but his undiminished ire tested his resolve. The temptation to give the boy a hard time remained strong. He had to find out the truth. Had Ted touched his wife?

Walking swiftly down the hotel corridor, he identified the room number and banged on the door with the flat of his hand.

The cheap hotel had no spy holes so Jason had the advantage. The moment the door opened, he stuck his foot in the gap and wedged it there. The face of Ted appeared briefly. The look of shock visible, eyes wide and jaw dropping. Jason shoved the door open wider.

“Shit,” gasped the panicking Ted, who scampered backwards, almost stumbling.

Jason leant back. The latch clicked.

Ted stood by the unkempt bed. Jason gave him a quick survey, reminding himself what the crewman had to offer the ladies.

A dark-haired young man. Strong in the shoulders from hauling rope, oars, and other marine paraphernalia about. A pretty-faced boy with grey eyes and droopy eyelids. He stood with his shoulders stooped, hands clasped tightly in front of his crotch as if knowing he was vulnerable. Sweat darkened his armpits, the smell of cold, anxious perspiration filled the room. His grubby trousers, worn at the knees, and frayed laces hung about his trainers. Not a man to take care of his appearance. The relaxed confidence he had shown on the launch boat had vanished.

“Do you know why I’m here, Ted?” Jason wandered farther into the room, ignoring the cheap décor. He noted discarded sweet wrappers and biscuit crumbs on the table. He didn’t touch anything.

“No, sir.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that. You were caught wanking in the presence of my wife—”

“She was asleep—”

“Cut the crap. You’ve got a pathetic, needy dick, and I want to know why you did it. Is that all you plan to do, or were you going to—”

Ted wrung his hands. “Please, sir. I’m very sorry.”

“Sorry for what, Ted? Tell me.”

“For...with your wife.” Ted tugged on his T-shirt, dragging it down.

“Say it! Go on. For masturbating over my wife!” Jason loomed over him. His anger remained, but something about the crewman’s bearing halted him.

Ted sobbed. “For wank...masturbating over your wife. I’m very sorry....”

The young man disintegrated. A spectacularly rapid breakdown that took Jason by surprise. Curled up on the floor, Ted clutched his belly as if in pain. He cried uncontrollably, repeated his apologies in tear-drenched sobs. The anguished man tore at his hair and wailed incoherently Then, suddenly, he regained clarity. He pounded a fist on the floor with each statement.

“I’m a shit, sir. A fucking piece of shit. Worthless piece of shit. Good for nothing. Not even a decent fuck....”

Jason stepped back and wondered if the words Ted ranted were really being addressed to him or an invisible person in the room. Rarely thrown off course, he hesitated, uncertain how to handle the situation. Women in such a state, he would hug and hold, but a man he didn’t know, especially a virtual stranger, how to respond? The lack of instinct flummoxed him. He had come to the hotel to chastise and berate Ted. He had wanted to pun

ish him. Sometimes he struggled to contain his sadism, his desire to humiliate. Now, he regretted his intention. Gemma’s recovery from rape often reminded him people didn’t always act rationally when afraid or provoked.

After several minutes, the self-inflicted haranguing stopped spewing out of Ted’s mouth. Jason helped him sit up. He filled a glass of water, using the bathroom sink, and offered the drink to Ted’s trembling lips. After a few sips, the crewman pushed the glass away. Putting it on the table, Jason fished out his handkerchief and wiped Ted’s tear-streaked face. He made no comment as he pieced the boy back together again. Ted remained on the floor, his legs shaking ferociously.

Jason perched on the edge of the bed. “All right? What was that all about?” He waited. The nature of his collapse continued to surprise Jason. People often lost their nerve before him, rambled or stumbled over their words, but not to the extent of an emotional breakdown.

“I don’t know,” muttered Ted, his eyes darting about the room.

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