When we reached the top of the staircase, I tried to conceal my arousal by clasping my hands together in front of me. It seemed to be enough to keep Marcus from noticing. If he had noticed the state I was in, he didn't acknowledge it. He chattered on about the house and how it had belonged to his guardian, who'd in turn left it to him. And he pointed out different paintings that adorned the hallway walls, proudly announcing those that were his own work. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't impressed.

Marcus escorted me into a large, meticulously clean lavatory. "Draw yourself a hot bath. I'll have Margie come in and help you with your hair."

"Erm. Are you sure that's a good idea? She seemed upset..." I began to protest.

"I told you, she's nothing to worry about. While she has her moments, she'll ultimately do whatever I instruct her to do. She wouldn't dare refuse me." Marcus treated me to a mischievous grin. "When you finish in here, you can wear the burgundy robe hanging on the wall. In the meantime, I'll see what's in the kitchen."

"Okay." He slapped me on the shoulder, and then left me to bathe.

Alone with my thoughts, I couldn't help but feel that I was caught up in a fairy tale. I realized too, as I sank into a tub of piping hot water, that every muscle in my body had been tensed expectantly since I first met Marcus. It was as if I were waiting for an internal alarm to wake me from this wonderful dream. I closed my eyes and relaxed against the porcelain. If none of this was real, I didn't want to wake up.

Sleepy and content in the soothing water, my defenses were lowered and I allowed myself to ponder what had happened to me earlier. I had never considered myself one of those young men. I wasn't limp-wristed, nor did I speak with feminine flourish. My mind wasn't full of perversion, in fact I rarely thought much about that particular physical need. I was too busy trying to live in a world that would rather I starve. I reasoned that my erection might have been in response to Marcus' kindness, his inconsequential show of affection. I considered too, that it might very well be his fault for being as pretty as a girl. Then I pictured his slim hips again, the way his trousers had pulled tight around his ass as he scaled the steps in front of me.

The bathroom door opened abruptly, intruding on my private moment. I sat up quickly in the water and pulled my knees toward my chest. Marg was standing before me, a pile of towels in her hand. On top of them sat a pair of shiny silver scissors. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Marcus sent me to wash and trim your hair."

"That's all right...you don't need to apologize. I was falling asleep. Not a wise thing to do in the tub, anyway." Not accustomed to being undressed in front of others, I felt strangely vulnerable. It didn't help that I knew the young woman was displeased by my arrival.

"It seems I have my work cut out for me tonight. When was the last time you put a brush through your hair?" Marg grabbed a pitcher from the bathroom closet and knelt beside the tub. "I'm not certain how much I'll be able to save, but I'll do my best."

In all fairness to Marg, I must say that she treated me with tenderness. She washed and snipped at my tangled hair, all the while handling it as delicately as she would threads of fine silk. I enjoyed the feel of her strong little fingers massaging my scalp, tugging my knots loose.

"Why were you upset by my presence? I don't mean to be bold, but... You seem like a compassionate person." I shot her a probing look as I sat there in the murky water. She'd just cut the final lock of hair and had sat back on her haunches to inspect her handiwork. She was quite pretty, I noticed. Her hair was a fierce red, her wide eyes a cornflower blue. I thought to myself then, that she'd be much prettier if only she smiled more often.

"I didn't mean to be inconsiderate. It was Marcus who caused me distress, not you. He'ss very...impulsive. I've known him for years, since before he was disfigured. I came to work for his sponsor as a very young girl." She snorted bitterly at the recollection. "Marcus was vain then, quite aware of his own beauty. Snobbish, but not prone to dark moods. Not like now. Now he's sour and ashamed. He behaves self-destructively."

"You have nothing to fear in me. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him." I reached with one hand to feel what remained of my hair. Most of the gnarly mass was gone. Left were soft tendrils that curled in around my jaw line.

"No... No you wouldn't, would you? You don't have the eyes of a liar." A slight smile finally danced on the woman's pale pink lips. "Just be careful with him. He has a nasty disposition at times. He protects himself that way. Make sure you protect yourself, too. Understand?"

"I think so."

"Good." Marg cupped my face in her hands. "You look handsome now. Marcus won't recognize you. You'll scarcely recognize yourself."

On impulse, I captured her dainty wrist, and then pressed the back of her hand to my lips. Her skin was like crushed velvet. "Thank you...sincerely."

"Oh, stop. It was a challenge, and I'm always up for a challenge." The woman's heart-shaped face blushed red and she yanked her hand out of mine. "You'd better climb out of that tub before you turn into a prune."

As soon as Marg left, I climbed out of the tub. The water within had long since turned murky and cold. I hadn't spoken out about it, or asked to refill the water while the woman sat and cut my hair away. The scummy water had concealed my nakedness well.

I dried myself on one of the towels, then slipped into the heavy robe that had been left for me. I almost sighed out loud at feel of such lush fabric brushing against my skin. I closed my eyes for a minute and hugged the material tighter around me, wanting to savor this second in time. Memorize it so that when I found myself out on the street again, I would have something pleasant to recall. Something separate from my childhood and the tragic loss of my father.

More than ready to fill my belly, I left the bathroom and wandered down the staircase I'd ascended a short while before. I wasn't quite certain where the dining area would be, but rationalized that I would be able to find it or Marcus without much trouble.

In the end, it was even easier than I'd first expected to find him. I followed the scent of meat and sweet rolls into a large dining hall. Marcus sat at the head of the dark, cherry wood table sipping wine from a glass. When I entered, my eyes met his over the rim.

"Well, look at you. You clean up nicely. I had a feeling that you might." Marcus set the glass down and gave me a crooked grin. "Sit. Eat. I've kept you waiting for your meal long enough."

The man did not have to make the suggestion twice. I practically leapt into the chair beside him and set aside all pretense of having manners. With my fingers, I tore at the chicken breast that sat upon my plate and stuffed the food in my watering mouth. When there was no meat left on the bones, I finally grabbed my spoon and began to shovel the mashed potatoes into the bottomless pit that was my stomach. Halfway through, I paused long enough to notice Marcus watching me, an amused expression on what I could see of his masked face.

Embarrassed, I grabbed for a napkin and wiped my mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm not always such a pig, I swear."

"No, go ahead. Eat all you want. Just don't choke." He leaned across the table with his bottle of wine and poured some into my empty glass. "Taste this, you'll love it after a few mouthfuls."

I took several, quick sips and nodded. "Yes, yes it is good. Not that I have anything but a memory to compare it to."

"Tell me about it? Tell me your story?" Marcus' voice lowered, taking on a quiet urgency as he urged me to talk. "How did you end up out on the street? Were you an orphan? A criminal? What?"

"I have no story." The effects of the wine were beginning to settle in. My mind was growing enjoyably hazy. "At least none worthy of telling. It'd bore you, really."

"No, no it wouldn't. I want to know all of your dirty little secrets." Marcus chuckled and swallowed more wine. I was beginning to get the impression that he was already drunk.

"I was put out by my mother, after my father died. I suspect I made her feel guilty for having an affair. I caught her with an uncle. My father's brother, in fact. It was quite a spectacle, but nothing that would shock a worldly person such as yourself."

"Worldly, you say? Now that's comical. As if I venture far these days." He snorted and shook his head. "I frighten people, can you imagine? I walk down the street and they stare with disgust or immediately assume that having a monstrous scar makes me less than human."

"May I speak freely?"

"Please do. I wouldn't have fed you so much wine if I didn't want you to be honest." The man rested his chin in the palm of his hand and leaned forward expectantly.

"You shouldn't feel sorry for yourself. You have a great deal to be thankful for. I would trade half my face to live in a fine house, to have money in the bank and food on my table. Besides, what remains of your face, the largest portion, is unaffected and quite handsome." Almost as soon as the words were out, I regretted them. Wished I could suck them back into my lungs. I'd meant to sound optimistic, and somehow managed instead to sound self-righteous. "I don't mean to sound callous, I don' imagine it'seasy to put up with the ignorance of others."

"You have no idea what it' like, boy... To have once been something that so many desired -- only to wind up like this! Like some hideous thing!"

"I' sorry. You'e right, I have no idea." Cringing from the anger in his tone, I stared at my empty plate, not wanting to see the pain I'd caused with my careless words.

Marcus sighed heavily. "Never mind. I shouldn't have expected you to understand. How could you? Anyway, I told you to speak freely. I can't fault you for doing so."

"Would you tell me what happened? How did your face get burned?" My hands were on the table before me; I studied them closely as I spoke. Wanting to seem appropriately humbled.

"Let's not discuss this further, not now. It would only ruin the night. Besides, I have something I want to give you." Marcus stood suddenly, kicking his chair back as he did so. "Come."

He placed one bony hand on my shoulder and guided me out of the dining hall. It felt odd, to be walking through the dark, old house in someone elses robe. To have this peculiar man's hand on me. Leading me off to god knows where. Again, I was struck by the feeling that it wasn't real, none of this was truly happening to me. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Marcus whispered against my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. I wondered if this was it. If he was going to take me to his room and demand that I perform vile acts on him in return for my meal.

I had myself convinced that this was what laid in wait for me, until we reached a heavy wooden door. A door that Marcus pushed open without so much as a knock.

Candles flickered steadily inside the small room from atop the bureau and vanity in which they sat. The dancing flames cast shadows over the walls, and across the ivory face of Marg who sat quietly at the edge of her poster bed.

As soon as we crossed the threshold she stood, her long white nightdress brushing the tops of her bare little feet. Her red hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders and down her narrow back. She looked exceptionally youthful standing there, even though I knew she had years on me. Like some poor, sweet, wide-eyed girl who'd been caught somewhere she shouldn't have been. I was rendered speechless by the sight.

"You've met Margie, so there's no need for introductions." He kneaded my shoulders as he spoke, I could feel the smile on his lips without having to see it. A burst of anger shot through me. I wanted to tell Marcus he could go to hell, that his gift was inappropriate. I wasn't quite sure why I had this reaction, not at first. It wasn't until later that night that it came to me. "I want you to be with her tonight. I want to watch."

"You're out of your mind. How could you even ask such a thing of her?" My heart slammed against my ribs. My god, she was beautiful, though. Her blue eyes so sad. I was a fool to resist.

"You think she minds?" Marcus laughed incredulously, then stepped from behind me and approached the young woman, who so far had said not a word. Very lightly, he grasped hold of her chin and tilted her face up toward his. "Margie, do you like our new friend Sean?"

"Yes, very much." She wet her lips nervously and peered over in my direction.

"Then be a good girl and show him, would you? I don't think he believes you." With one hand, Marcus lovingly stroked her glossy tresses, all the while mocking me with his grin. Still, I couldn't help but watch as Marg's delicate hands fumbled to unclasp the buttons at the neck of her dress. When she wasn't quick enough about the task, Marcus clutched the front of the gown and ripped it open impatiently, cupping one small round breast in his hand while he searched my face for a reaction. "You know you want her. I can see how much you want her."

Though part of me wanted to resist, Marcus was right. Already, I was painfully engorged and so far had made no attempt at concealing the fact. I couldn't. Just as I couldn't turn around and walk out of the room, even though the wiser voice inside my head told me that I should. Instead, I closed the distance between us. I took her face between my hands and crushed my lips against hers. So soft, they were. Like satin petals, only wet and warm. I plunged my tongue into her mouth, knowing that I was being clumsy about it. I was eager and green. Every sensation new to me, and nearly unbearable. I could feel my cock jerk as she licked her way over to the corner of my mouth and nibbled, felt the beads of warm fluid trickle down over the head of my prick. I had no control over my own response. It was no effort to forget that Marcus was in the room.

When Marg unfastened the front of my robe, I didn't flinch. Didn't stop to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed. I had one thought, and one thought only. My mouth never leaving hers, I pressed her backwards toward the bed. Readily she laid down and spread her thighs for me. Showing me places on a woman that I'd never seen. I laid myself on top of her, reaching to touch the feverishly hot and slippery place between her legs with my fingers. When I did, she moaned and grabbed frantically at my hair. Letting me know she liked it. Encouraged, I withdrew my stabbing fingers and grabbed for myself. Breathless, I guided my member until it was pressed against her inflamed opening, until I could feel her pliant flesh squish against the head of my prick. I ached, I wanted so badly to be buried deep in her body. I was nervous too, afraid I might explode before she was able to enjoy it. Hastily, I propped my elbows at either side of her head, readying to thrust myself fully inside her. It was only then that I remembered Marcus remained in the room with us. I turned my head to see him, sitting on a chair beside the bed. His plump lips parted, one slender hand rubbing the front of his trousers. The sight was more than I could bear, as was the knowledge that he'd been watching me. I held his glassy-eyed stare and lunged inside of Marge.

Beneath me she bucked and cried, her hands raking at my back as I pumped once, twice, three times. I was unable to wait. Rhythmically, my prick began to spurt thick ropes of fluid into her body. I gasped, resting my forehead against hers, my heart catching in my throat. "Ohgod, I'm sorry. So sorry."

"Shhh. That's all right, you were beautiful." She smoothed her hands over the back of my head, over my shoulders down to the small of my back. My body shuddered.

"What?! What are you talking about - beautiful? That was lousy." Suddenly irritated, Marcus shot up from the chair in which he sat, a scowl on his face. "Sean, I'm very disappointed in you."

"What? I... Jesus, Marcus...I never..."

But it was too late to beg Marcus for understanding. Too late to question his reason for being distressed. He'd already stormed out of the room. I could hear the lonesome sound of his boots, clicking against the marble floor, as they trailed off down the hallway.

To Be Continued...