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“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. Cur
led 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 punish 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.
“How old were you when you lost your virginity. Fourteen, thirteen?” Jason raised an eyebrow when Ted shook his head at the two ages.
“Twelve, sir.”
“That’s very young. Tell me how that happened.” He spoke as if to a novice submissive, coaxing, reassuring.
“I was in care. My parents split up when I was a baby. Dad vanished. Mum, drugged up, nicking stuff, never had the time for me, often in prison, too. So, I went to a children’s home. I had a friend who visited his mum from time to time. Nobody bothered with me. I went with him. She was…the one. I went on my own one day, and after…you know…she cooked me tea. I hated the care home food. I was always hungry, ravenous. I liked her cooking.” He smiled for the first time since Jason had entered the room then it quickly vanished.
He didn’t like the start of Ted’s story. It filled him with a familiar sense of dread. “An older woman. Not a childhood sweetheart, then. Did it happen again?”
Ted drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “Loads of times. I kept finding myself back there. For years. She invited others round sometimes. Men, too. I didn’t like the men. I’m not gay!” he said with a sudden fierceness in his eyes, his face screwed up.
“I’m sure you’re not.” The young man suddenly seemed to have regressed into an adolescent. He looked younger, spottier, and exhibited behaviours Jason associated with teenagers. Jason guessed he had never had a normal adolescence. “Why did you go back to her?”
“She looked after me. Bought me stuff, clothes and games. I liked her, for the most part. Except, sometimes, she would be cross with me.”
“Why was that?”
“If I couldn’t get it up for her, she bullied me,” whispered Ted. “She made me wank for her while she cooked my tea.”
Jason closed his eyes briefly, digesting the implication of the confession. The words the boy had ranted on the floor were hers, shouted in Ted’s ear as he had tried to do as she asked. What Jason saw before him was a submissive, but one who did not know he was. Not trained or given the choice, instead bullied and cajoled into a role he might never had exhibited if he’d had a normal upbringing in a caring home. A sexually immature young man who had no idea what was appropriate behaviour. He had probably masturbated so much as a child, he couldn’t stop himself.
Jason couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Why did you do it on the sundeck, by my wife?” He liked dissecting people, a technique he used when interviewing new executives. Teased them apart to find out what made them tick.
“I don’t know, sir. Honestly. I have to. It’s like a voice in my head, telling me. Seeing you two together, all romantic, fucking in the pool. I thought I could put it out of my head. I went up there and did it without even thinking. Seeing her asleep made it easy. I do it when people aren’t watching me.”
Jason had assumed only Modesto had spied on them, now it was apparent Ted had watched them, too. The idea didn’t thrill him. He tolerated observers if he knew them, trusted them. Who else on board could he not trust? “How old were you when you started out on the boats?”
“Sixteen, sir. I couldn’t stop going to her house. Like a bloody addiction. She wanted me to take drugs, like my mum. That scared me. So, I applied for an apprenticeship and was offered a position on a yacht. I love my job, and I’ve gone and fucking blown it all away.” His reddened eyes filled once again.
Jason touched his shoulder. “Don’t. Control your tears. They serve you no purpose. You do what you do because you have been conditioned and groomed to behave in a particular way. You’ve not unlearnt those behaviours. You must realise you are the victim of sexual abuse? Child abuse.”
“I suppose. I never told anyone. Who would believe me? I’m a nobody. Most of the time, she was really nice to me. The others were only the odd weekend, and she gave me money....” Years later, he still couldn’t see himself as a prostitute.
“You’ve done well with your work. You’re a natural sailor. It would be a shame to ruin your future because of what happened to you as a child. This is what is going to happen. Go back to England. I won’t press any charges. You’re not a criminal. I won’t blot your employment record either. You are leaving us due to ill health. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Ted wiped his nose with a finger.
Jason rolled his eyes and offered him his handkerchief again.
“You need to accept that you need help. That you have a problem with controlling your sexual urges. I will arrange for a respectable charity to contact you, provide you with counselling and support. When you are ready, you can return to your maritime adventures. Start again, fresh.”
