novice. you dont ask, you assume. thats what makes it art.
“mr. boy, please step into my office.”
it was a powerful stentorian voice, which, without the least intimation of anger or stress, nevertheless cut through the thick, hot, moist july afternoon like pinking shears.
straight swallowed hard. golly. he entered the office, which was like a dad’s library if the dad was really rich and actually possessed books. late afternoon sun tangled in the gold stamping of innumerable unreadable letters upon green leather spines. behind the desk, dressed in green baize and burl accessories, loomed the thick torso of his summer inquisitor. a silence passed, like the silence that emits from the afterbirth of fireworks, a louder silence, compared to the bursting plush of straight’s own heartbeat tensing the inner membranes of his ears. he could hardly lift his straight white eyes to those which rose commandingly from the face above the neck which emerged from the shoulders previously mentioned. he saw, and caught his breath to see it, his interlocutor’s jaw flex before these words spilled into the afternoon:
“i would like to welcome you to your summer job. as you know, i am a senator in the united states. and you are a page boy.”
the senator’s fingers - square, articulate, possessed of an elegant brutality like that belonging to the cars of a james bond picture - flexed around the shaft of a walnut caran d’ache pen worth more than seventeen pairs of air jordan dub zero iDs. piercing azure eyes fixed upon straight’s. reflexively, he felt a sensation not unlike the sensation he had felt the first time he had shown another boy a picture of tiddy in an abortive and incoherent gesture of interpersonal intimacy.
“page boys have certain responsibilities in this office, mr. boy. i hope you will understand the importance of tradition.”
with that the senator rose, and in form against the window eclipsed all the gay summer sunlight from without. a snaking sound: the belt being undone, and then the fastenings of the slacks slipped free of their casements.
“please assume the position,” said the senator, in a voice which commanded the entire senate defense committee as easily as it ordered another arnold palmer. it never even occurred to straight to question it. he did as he was told, heatstruck from a nameless sun. the first blow felt like acceptance; the sixth like freedom.
freedom. it was more than just a word now.
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