This is the story of my life

(4 - Mary Magdalene)


I’d come early to check on everything; make sure every detail was perfect for the meeting that would take place in this huge congress conference room eight hours later; give a last look to the VIPs’ list and talk to the guy who was running the place.

It was our tenth meeting and if everything went well two months later Alvah Case would be the new Governor instead of Devlin; Christ I hated Devlin. Corruption, dishonesty, demagoguery; Devlin would’ve sold his soul for a tiny piece of power; maybe he already had. He was the physical incarnation of evil to me.

“Don’t waste your energy in hatred,” Case used to tell me, resting a paternal hand on my shoulder, “I need you lucid and smart.”

But I drew on my hatred , the words that made Case’s speeches so damn good.

He’d win; I had the feeling he would. I didn’t mind staying in the shadows for a little longer, I was barely thirty-three and Case wouldn’t forget me, he’d let me have a more interesting and challenging job than the one I had as a lawyer in Daddy’s practice.

I was sitting at the desk mentally checking my list. I remember I was wearing a new black suit, a blue shirt Gen had chosen for me and a blue tie; she’d told me I was hot, the kids had kissed me enthusiastically, ruffling my hair, wetting my cheeks, so she’d combed it back again, smiling, and kissed me.

Lost moments of happiness.

Something, the noise of a door closing jolted me out of my thoughts… I raised my head and saw a man standing at the other side of the room, leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed on his chest.

Tall, muscular and hard. Jeans and black leather jacket; I frowned. Who the fuck had let the man inside? The doors were supposed to be closed until seven. I was about to call the security when I froze.

There was something in the way the man stood, something in his smile… Sweet Jesus. I had to lean against the desk, my heart racing…

I watched him stroll down to me, fast and supple and strong, his eyes never wavering.

“Chris,” I said. Fuck I couldn’t believe it.

“Tobias Beecher? That’s your real fucking name then?”

He smiled and tilted his head on the side, looking deceptively gentle. He might’ve fooled anyone; but I knew him.

“Mind if I call you Toby? Or is it too… intimate?”

He probably expected me to run away, allowing him to chase me and do whatever he felt like, which probably included beating me to a bloody pulp. I was terrified; and stunned. The first thing I did was touch him to make sure he was real that he was not only a product of my overworked brain. I brushed my fingers along the sleeve of his leather jacket; against his cheek, and he stepped back.

“Fucking bitch,” he hissed with so much cold rage in his voice that my hand froze, “who paid you for it?”

“Wha.. What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Stealing the drug? Who the fuck paid you? Who were you working for?” “

I frowned.

“You’re crazy. No one paid me. I took it because you’d pissed me off.”

He didn’t believe me; or maybe he did; I don’t know what was worse.

“I’d pissed you off… I can’t believe it,” he said, his eyes roving over my face, “Thirteen people died just because I’d pissed you off, do you know that?”

“I know; I was home when I heard the news.”

“Some of them were my friends. Tell me… How does that make you feel?”

I had a flash of the flags, the skinheads and the pain I’d been through…

“The Nazis who fucked me raw, two at the time? Should I feel sorry for them? Well don’t even expect me to apologize.”

How crazy was that? It had been thirteen years ago; I’d put it all behind me, got myself a brand new life. I would’ve sworn I’d forgotten all of it, buried Keller’s memory deep in a hidden part of my brain; I would’ve sworn I never thought about it anymore and that the guy I’d been back then was a stranger to me… And now the anger and the resentment were back, intact, freed from the prison of denial I’d locked them into .

He gave me a long quizzical look.

“What did you do with the money?”

I snorted.

“No money, Keller; I threw all the shit down the toilet.”

I was grabbed, pulled up, pushed back out of the room into a dark corridor and pinned against the wall, Keller’s hot angry breath over my face.

“You owe me a fucking lot of money; you know that?”

“Go to hell Keller, I’m done with you.”

I could guess the kind of smile he had; I didn’t need to see it; I didn’t want to.

“Now listen, you slut…” He’d grabbed my hands pinned them above my head, “listen carefully. You owe me 100,000 bucks. I want it next Wednesday, not a day later. You got that?”

I didn’t have the money. I told him so.

“Yeah? Like I give a fucking shit, Mr Beecher.”

“If I don’t have it? What the fuck will you do? Kill me?”

He laughed; took a step forward, touching me, his mouth against mine; solid and powerful like a tiger, as fierce, as hungry. I was fucked big time.

His fingers were caressing mine, playing with my wedding ring.

“You’re married…” He laughed at the idea, “I can’t believe it. How do you think they’d like it, the little woman, and your boss, and your wealthy righteous family if the press got some pictures of you in… interesting although somewhat embarrassing situations?”

“You’re bluffing, Keller.”

“You think so? I’ve been looking for you, Chiquita; looking for you all this time and now that I have you I think I will have a long and tasteful revenge. Savour it. You fucked me over, baby; you walked out on me; no one does that and just gets away with it.”

I tried to push him back, so that he couldn’t feel my heart pounding in my chest but he was too strong; I felt his hand crawl down to the waistband of my pants and pull it open .

“You wouldn’t destroy my life,” I said, hating my trembling begging voice.

He took my dick in his hand, rubbed a calloused finger around the sensitive head and laughed.

“You fucked up mine, why should I give a damn about yours?”

“You put me on the streets.”

His hand was doing incredible things to my dick; I had to close my eyes for a second.

“Bitch; you never put up much of a fight, did you? ” he growled.

Such stupid blindness brought me back to my senses; I pushed his hand away, wincing at the loss.

“Don’t you see? Are you still that dumb?” I said, hitting his shoulder with my fists in frustration, “I loved you; I would’ve done anything to keep you; even that. Selling my body.”

He stepped back as if he’d been burnt and gave me a long hard look as I tucked my half-hard cock into my pants.

“You’re a lying cunt,” he said, “Next Wednesday.”

He told me when and where and left without turning back.

I was fucked.

How did I ever make it through that day? What did I say to Alvah Case, his supporters, the journalists, my family during the next 6 days? I don’t remember but probably I was coherent enough; no one complained, no one seemed to notice anything; I attended to my affairs as usual, took the kids to school, fucked my wife.

Automatic pilot on; Beecher at the controls; he was a fucking tough guy; he’d find a way. The Toby part in me tried not to think too much about how it had felt to be touched by Keller’s fingers and what it meant; tried not to freak out and board the next plane to Alaska after writing a suicide note to everyone he knew.

I’d done a good job of covering my tracks, I’d done a good job of setting aside a whole year of my life, pretending it had never existed; I wouldn’t let this fucker ruin it all.

That’s probably when I lost my mind, lost any sane and lucid view of the situation.

On the appointed day I left my car three near my office and walked to meet him. I had the money; I’d borrowed some, withdrawn my savings from the bank, liquidated my mutual funds, my stocks, sold some jewellery I’d inherited and some other stuff. I had nothing left but if my plan worked none of it would matter; I’d be safe.

And it would work, shit; it had to.

Keller was waiting for me on the lowest floor of an underground parking garage . He wore a black suit, a white shirt a black tie and very expensive trendy shoes; he looked good and cool; he was impressively sexy; the cropped hair suited him fine, enhanced the blue of his eyes and his hard features… The kind of man who makes you to fall on your knees with just a smile.

He didn’t smile, just stood there waiting. Savouring. Motherfucker.

I showed him the case.

“Do you recognize it?” I asked. I’d retrieved it, in my parents’ garage where I’d hidden it thirteen years ago.

Keller’s lips tightened, his look turned to an icy laser. Wow, beautiful, I thought; so much strength and vicious intelligence underneath the cool exterior…. What a fucking waste.

“Give it to me.”

“Come get it, Keller. I wanna touch you again.”

He hesitated for a second, flashed me a wary look but what harm could a pussy bitch like me possibly do to a man like him?

Conceited bastard.

He took a step towards me and another one until he was close enough to rid me of the case, so near I could smell him, feel his warmth.

I hit him as hard as I could, stabbing him in the flank twice with a knife I’d kept hidden in my sleeve. Take that, you fucking prick…

He let out a stifled growl of pain and stepped back, looking at his hands pressed against the bleeding wound and up at me, incredulous, before lowering his eyes back to his bloodstained hands. Then he fell on his knees and down on the concrete floor; I waited for a second or two; blood was running down his chin, his eyes had turned dull.

I ran away, sick, tossed the knife into the river.

The next day in the bank the cashier looked incredibly indifferent to my sudden change of mind as I put my money back into their original accounts.

I spent three days in a state of complete excitement that turned to absolute numbness, reliving the scene again and again. I’d killed a man, I was a murderer. But I was free .

I never even considered the possibility of failing, not before I stabbed him and not even after; lost in panic and rage I’d lost any ability to think straight.

Sometimes Keller asks me to tell him again what the plan was, how I’d planned the whole thing, he wants all the details, it’s like a tale to him; I sit down in front of him and he listens to me with rapt attention. He doesn’t laugh at me; just give me a long perplexed look.

“Man, were you fucking nuts!” he says. I don’t like to think he respects me because of that but he seems to understand why I did it; maybe it’s the way he works too.

A week after our lethal appointment I was working in my office when Alvah Case called me; the tone of his voice made me instantly sick –he knew. He told me he had received pictures, a video and a letter about me, sent anonymously; the local press had received the same package; he’d watched the first minute of the tape. If I had nothing convincing to tell him, prove to him it was all a lie made up by our political adversaries, which he was very ready to believe, he’d ask me to resign.

It took me 10 seconds to understand. Keller was alive; or he was dead and someone had been give the job but I doubted that. If Case had the pictures and *JESUS* he had the fucking TAPE…

OK. Do what you have to, Beecher . It had been Keller’s motto years ago.

“I won’t resign. Fire me. If I resign you’ll be tainted. Fire me; I’ll write the speech if you want. My way to apologize.”

There was an agonizing silence; I would’ve passed out with pain but my mind was inhumanly clear and sharp.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sir it was only ten months and I was nineteen; a mistake.”

“Not a mistake. A fault. A very bad one.”

“I’d worked very hard to forget about it. I thought it was enough.”

I heard him sigh.

“I’ll miss you Tobias.”

“Not for long… You’ll find some other smart disposable assistant.”

“You never were disposable to me; your past behaviour leaves me no other choice; I think you can understand this.””

“Of course,” I said. I didn’t feel like arguing, I was tired. I was angry. The unfairness of all that…

Guess Mary Magdalene wouldn’t find anyone to save her today, uh?

He kept silent for a moment, expecting an answer then he said, “Send me the speech by e-mail; I need it in one hour.”

I took a perverse satisfaction in watching my life crumble. The press railed against me but Case managed to remain untouched, telling the journalists I’d been a shameless liar, played him and my teachers in Harvard; my friends and family for fools. The speech was good, the man sounded sincere and shocked, telling them he’d hired me because I looked like a honest hard working smooth talking uptown boy; my family was honourably known. I was married. I had kids. He couldn’t believe I had gone so far to cover my past.

I remained, in my office for a while, crushed. What the fuck had I been thinking of?

I cried. And I cried again when after a whole month of undying pain, terrified, sleep deprived, almost jumping out of my shoes every time the phone rang, hooked on caffeine and martinis and pills I listened to Gen tell me she’d file for divorce. I’d hoped she would stand by me but the social pressure was too hard. Gen was a nice girl; she’d never really gone through anything this bad; her parents didn’t hide how disgusted they were and she spent hours on the phone with friends who advised her to or dump me. She gave up; my behaviour sickened her, surprised her too. She’d always considered me as the smart cute guy next door and certainly not as “hot”, not the kind of guy who’d arouse sexual desire in both men and women. I told her I’d changed, made amends, that it had happened a long time ago; she reminded me we were already friends when I was 15; she thought she knew me, she couldn’t trust me anymore.

I lost my job. I lost my wife. I lost my kids. I lost my friends. I lost the respect of my family. I lost my own self-respect.

I was harassed by journalists, I was a nervous wreck, I was afraid if Keller or any of his friends found me, I was afraid that he ratted me out … I rented a little room downtown where no one would find me and decided to drink myself into oblivion.

Two months later Keller found me.

“So,” he said, “how does it feel?”

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

I could barely spoke; I’d drunk so much that when he dragged me out of my bed and half-led, half-carried me to his car, I wasn’t really able to fight.

I didn’t know why he was doing this. I didn’t understand what he wanted; I thought maybe it was my last ride, that he would get rid of my body somewhere. The only thing I managed to tell him before passing out was “please don’t hurt my kids.”

Later he told me he’d come to taunt me and savour his revenge… But I’d scared him; I looked like one of those men in prison camps; haggard, emaciated and in the end, he didn’t feel so happy.

“I thought I was doing it out of pity,” he said, “Or maybe just unwanted remorse. Something I’d never felt until then anyway. It was strange and fucking scary.”


Keller has been spending the day in business mode, barefoot but dressed in a suit; tie loosened; smoking, clutching the phone, frowning.

I can see by the meaningless forms he keeps drawing on a legal pad how worried he is; he puts a hand in front of the phone when I bring him some more coffee.

“Thank you, Chiquita” and I give him the finger. Bastard.

“I wish I’d killed you.”

He looks pissed off so I smile to him to let him know it’s a joke but he averts his eyes. Wary. Beware horses and madmen, they’re unpredictable.

Later he’s standing in front of the window looking tired so I come behind him and lock my arms around him, my chin on his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be OK, Chris; you’ll make it.”

“Yeah. The question is… Do I still really wanna make it? Exile… It isn’t exactly what I’ve been dreaming about, especially when it means leaving you behind.”

“I can’t go with you, Chris; the little I’ve got left here, my kids… my parents… They deserve a bit more than me running away with a male lover after all they’ve been through.”

“I know.”

“We’ll find a way.”


“Before we’re both dead. Before we go to hell or heaven or anywhere. I want to be able to hold you. Your body, not just your immortal soul.”

“If I have one.”

“You have one, we all have.”

There’s a silence, I press his body against mine and he asks me what I want.

“I wanna fuck you; come on, let’s go to your room.”

The final fuck. Then he’ll leave. He spent a lot of time getting rid of anything that could help the Feds connect him to any affair, lead them to him, made sure it’s impossible to implicate me in anything; burning, destroying everything, making it look like I’m the only one who lives here.

We have no doubt, they’re going to pester me, bother me, question me, threaten me; we’ve talked this through an uncountable number of times; I might even spend some days in prison. I don’t fucking care; I worked hard to get an equal partnership in this relation we have and I’m going to assume it now.

“Fuck me, Chiquita,” he whispers to me as I lead him to the bedroom, kissing him every two steps to make it last, “fuck me hard so I keep you with me for days.”

Mmmm. I don’t really need such an incentive but since you ask, Keller, I’m glad to oblige.

I fuck him like he wants me to; besides the pleasure of fucking him, being inside him, licking his sweaty skin, biting his throat, his lips, his jaw, marking him, stroking the silky wet skin of his cock while I’m thrusting harder and harder, there’s the knowledge that I’m the only one who’s allowed to tame Chris Keller, make him moan in desperate pleasure and beg and come like a kid, biting his fist hard, trusting me not to hurt him, not to abuse him...

And suddenly I can’t let him go without telling him.

“I love you, Keller, I do, I love you…” again and again until I’ve got no strength left and I just hold him, my fingers resting on the ugly scar that runs along his flanks.


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