Five years. It's been five years since Rudolf's death. His Kiska, the only love of his life. He knows, hopes, he will love again, but never like this. No one will ever be like Rudolf, no one can ever command his heart like his lover, his pet. He had a few affairs in the past years, mostly women, but it never went beyond the sex, the lust, his body's needs.
A few weeks after the day that took everything away from him, he moved out of Paris. Everything in the city reminded him of Rudolf. This was his city. No other city could ever match that loving, but also passionate, rebellious, sometimes furious being that his lover was. As intense as their love was, as legendary were their rows. Rudolf could never have lived anywhere else.
He never sold the house - the place where they lived, loved... and where Rudolf died. Every year, he would go back. Every year, he would spend a night in that bed where his lover closed his eyes for the last time.
Misha's not religious, he doesn't believe in a life after death. But he hopes that something of Rudolf's is with him, watching over him. He hopes his lover would be proud of him now. He's turning 50 today. Not that much younger than Rudolf was when he died. He's turning 50, and his dance company has really taken off.
He's turning 50 today and he's alone. For the first time, it hits him. He has colleagues, dance partners, but he has no friends. Not anymore. He had poured everything into the dance, even more so than before. His grief, his love, his anger. There was no time, no energy, no emotions left to found new friendships in a strange land. He's the dancer that never sleeps in the city that never sleeps.
He stays in contact with old friends in Paris, but it's not enough, never will be. There's no one here he can share his triumphs with, no one who is genuinely happy for his success, no one he can be happy for, he can love and spoil.
He turns the drink in his hand as he eyes the boy he booked for tonight. Every year he books the same boy - Ian - one of those who had a classical training, can follow orders without any smart-arse comebacks. It's getting repetitive, though, and boring. He has no connection with the boy. It's a pleasant way to get off, or to work out some of his anger. But even now, watching him, he's bored.
Rudolf never bored him. If this had been Rudolf kneeling there in front of him, Misha's cock in his mouth, hands tied behind his back, wearing clamps and a cage, Misha wouldn't be sitting here with a drink in his hand. His body is reacting to the stimulation. His mind is bored.
He's turning 50 today and the boy is about half his age. He always joked about Rudolf being old, and now he's old himself. Not seasoned, not wise, but old. He's what he never thought, never wanted to become - old, sad, bitter, bored and alone. No, Rudolf wouldn't be proud of who he turned into.
He needs a change. He gets up, paying no attention to Ian who is startled and almost falls over backwards. "Get up," he commands as he gets dressed. He needs to get out. Calling his driver, he leads the boy to his car. He needs to go to his favourite club. Maybe he won't find anyone tonight. Maybe he'll just spend the night with Ian and a cane. Or maybe he'll find someone he can begin something with.
No one will ever be like Rudolf, no one can ever command his heart like that. But maybe he can find something else tonight.
He's turning 50 today. Maybe it's time to return to his roots. Maybe it's time to be someone's boy for tonight.