BOOKTOURSAMPLE PAGE
DOUBLE EXISTENCE
a novel
By
Adam Darius
EXCERPT from Chapter 3
Placing his lips next to Leif's ear, Kenji whispered. "Jag älskar dig," and if his recently acquired term of Swedish endearment was not understood, repeated, "I love you, I love you, Leif."
Gently and slowly toppling him over so that Leif lay supine on the mat, Kenji bent down, raining a cascade of kisses on Leif's forehead, earlobes and, shimmering under the muted light of the lantern, Leif's glistening, gold hair.
Then, lying on top of him, he kissed Leif repeatedly on the chin and throat. For a moment, both of them remained taut and motionless, the only movement a restless surging in Leif's loins countered by the aggravated thrust of Kenji's long contained desire. Exploring Leif's mouth with the tip of his tongue, Kenji looked into his face, closer now than the first time he has seen it magnified in closeup on the screen in Paris.
Retracting his tongue, Kenji swiftly removed his kimono, feeling the buckle of Leif's belt pressing into his bare flesh. Leif, realizing that he was scratching Kenji, extricated himself from his embrace, then stood up and removed his clothes. Kenji, lying on the mat, looked up to see Leif's elongated naked body standing astride him as some Norse god of distant legend.
Lifting himself up slightly, Kenji began brushing his lips against Leif's muscled thigh. And then, with the speed of a woodland satyr, Kenji nuzzled his face into the burnished blond cluster of hair from which Leif defiantly protruded.
Switching to a kneeling position, Kenji, open-mouthed, seized Leif in a grip which inflamed his captive's every quivering nerve ending. Clutching Kenji's shoulders, Leif's rising exhalations were accompanied by the exotic sounds of long-vanished ancient Japan.
In the midst of his mounting crescendo of response, Leif withdrew himself to lie down, reversing his body's to Kenji's. As they impatiently partook of each other in near canonic rhythm, Kenji retreated, pulling back the reins of his now imminent response.
Then he resumed. Leif, now unable to hold back any longer, gave vent to the ultimate convulsion, followed almost without pause by a gasping and joyous Kenji.
The triumphant samurai had, incontestably, conquered his magnificent and compliant viking.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
EXCERPT from Chapter 9
"I live here. I live in Beverly Hills."
"Oh, you live here! I thought Beverly Hills was exclusive. Since when does a young Jap find all that money to live in Beverly Hills? Do you know the property value here is estimated at more than five billion dollars? You expect me to believe you live here?"
"I swear I live here in Beverly Hills. I can prove it to you. If you take me back to my house, I rent the place, I can prove that I do live here and I am a ballet dancer and not whatever it is you think I am."
"I know what you are. You're a slit-eyed little Jap and your brother or your father killed my brother in the Pacific exactly eight years ago."
Kenji controlled his exhalation, for he knew he was now dealing with racial hatred borne of the war, a war he never had anything to do with.
"Where exactly do you live, sonny boy?"
"I live at 710 Rexford Drive. I have the key with me. I'm renting this house. I can prove it once we're there."
"Don't tell me you weren't up to no good, crouching there on the sidewalk."
"Officer, I was not doing anything illegal. I was just walking along getting some air. I'd given a performance a few hours before and I needed to unwind before going to sleep. And the reason I was crouching on the sidewalk was because I wanted to read that newspaper. There was a story that interested me, the one about the Coronation in London yesterday."
Taking over Kenji's frightened mind was the possibility that Leif was going to get implicated in this, he didn't know how, but he knew he would. Why, he berated himself, hadn't he taken identification with him on leaving the house?
"Where are we going now?" asked Kenji, noticing that the car had reversed its direction.
"We're going back to 710 Rexford Drive to see if you really do live there. And then you're going to show me your papers and prove to me beyond any shadow of a doubt that you're who you say you are."
"I'll prove anything and everything to your satisfaction, sir," responded Kenji, inundated by a wave of relief that he wasn't going to be booked at the police station.
Turning the key inside the lock, Kenji was relieved that the door opened easily, for he knew the policeman was studying his familiarity with the premises. While Kenji opened a bureau drawer, retrieving his passport and all other relevant papers, the policeman sat down on the sofa.
"Here," Kenji said to his interrogator, "you can see for yourself that my name is Kenji Kitahara and that I do live here. I've told you the truth."
Going through the passport and other papers slowly, the policeman looked at Kenji. "How do I know you're a ballet dancer?"
"I'll show you a programme for the season."
"How do I know you didn't have it printed at some novelty shop? You'll have to dance for me if you want me to take you at your word."
"Dance for you?"
"Yeah, prove to me you're a ballet dancer. Put on your tutu and dance."
"I told you before that men don't wear tutus."
"What do they wear?" questioned the cop who by now had stretched himself out too comfortably on the sofa.
"Male dancers wear tights. I mean in classical ballets they wear tights." The cop was staring at him peculiarly.
"Then put on your tights and do me a pirouette. Like Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly. Go ahead. Don't just stand there. Do what I say."
Kenji remained rooted to the spot, his every muscle frozen.
"You heard what I said. Put on your tights and do a twirl like Cyd Charisse."
Kenji knew that he was in the position of a caged animal facing the whip of his omnipotent tamer. So far so good. He had proven his identity without having to go to the police station. Now the legally sanctioned bully wanted to see him dance. He had little choice but to oblige. Until now he had protected Leif. Come hell or high water, he was determined to continue.
"Let me just get my practice clothes in the bedroom. I'll change in no time and then be ready to dance."
"Go get your clothes and then put them on here. Otherwise how do I know you're not going to escape through the bedroom window?"
Kenji's thoughts raced one step ahead of the cop. What was on his mind? Did the cop really think he planned to escape through the window, or did he just want to watch him get undressed? Excusing himself to go into the bedroom where he hurriedly collected his practice clothes, he then returned to the living room. Summoning up his most pleasant manner, he asked, "Should I put them on now?"
"Right now. I haven't got all night."
Thank goodness he was in a hurry, Kenji thought as he removed his shirt, trousers, shoes and socks. The cop's eyes were now affixed to him as he stood self-consciously in his underpants.
"Go ahead, take it off," ordered the cop.
Turning his back on the man, Kenji began to slide out of his white underpants.
"What's going on around here? Are you shy or something? Turn around. Men don't need to cover up in front of each other."
Cupping his hands to cover his nakedness, Kenji now knew full well the cop's intentions.
"I said turn around."
Trapped, Kenji obeyed, reaching for his dance belt which he had placed on a low table along with the rest of his practice clothes. He didn't need to look up to know that the cop's eyes were stuck to his genitals.
"Don't bother to put that thing on. Come over here."
Immobilized, Kenji was unable to move in any direction. The cop, now perched on the edge of the sofa, his legs akimbo, suddenly grabbed Kenji by the penis, forcing him down to his knees. Unzipping his fly with his free hand, the cop exposed himself and roughly pushed Kenji's face into his crotch.
"Start sucking and make it quick!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
EXCERPTS from Chapter 10
In an emergency meeting, the studio executives exchanged mental notes over their narrowly averted catastrophe. Complimenting Speedy for his quickness of mind in recording the blackmail attempt, they were less than happy about its potential aftermath.
"That scummy ex-lover of his is out of the way, we hope, but we have no assurance that another boyfriend from his past won't turn up and make similar demands."
"Or his present boyfriend, that Japanese dancer."
"No, this Japanese wouldn't pull a stunt like that. He's very rich, himself, I've heard."
"Why the hell can't Leif go for broads like Bogie does, like Gable does?"
"I hate to tell you, but we have a problem on our hands. Leif Larsson is going to be good pickings for any two buck male hustler on Sunset Boulevard."
"What would have happened if you hadn't had that tape recorder in your office? My God, when you stop to think about it, Ingrid was just screwing someone other than her husband and it washed her up in Hollywood."
"Yeah, but she also had kids out of wedlock with that wop, Rossellini."
"The thumbs down on her would be nothing compared to what would happen to Leif if any of this gets out. They would boycott Arabs and the exhibitors wouldn't even screen Lava."
"Are you saying that we're betting on a horse that can't run?"
"No, this horse can run all right. It's just that he might have to be put out to pasture before the race is over."
"But he's married to Zena now. He's protected."
"Protected like hell! That cover isn't going to last forever."
"Should we tell Leif about this blackmail business?"
"No, for Christ's sake, it'll aggravate him. He shouldn't be distracted while he's in New York. He's doing a good job there promoting."
"God forbid it should come out he likes boys. In New York or anywhere else."
"Do you think Ralph Greenson could help him?"
"What are you crazy or something? Leif would never go see a psychiatrist. He likes being the way he is. None of that bunch wanna change."
"Yeah, you're right. Besides which, those psychiatrists are all a bunch of Freudian-Marxists. Heaven help us if while they're trying to straighten him out sexually, they should twist him around politically."
"That's all we need, a Commie faggot on the payroll! What a combination!"
"Look, we're making a gantze magilah out of this. We're carrying on over nothing. That pervert blackmailer, he should drop dead, is locked up."
"Don't be too sure we're not going to have no more problems. I like Leif, but he spells trouble."
"So what are we gonna do?"
"We're gonna keep our fingers crossed and pray to God that we don't get no more problems."
"Listen to me. It wouldn't hurt nobody if we maybe took out an insurance policy."
"Like what?"
"Like that new kid we just signed up. He's got the same blond good looks as Leif. What's his name? You know. Tab Hunter, that's it."
"What kind of name is that? We gotta change it."
"Change it? It's been changed already. His real name was Arthur Gelien."
"It's okay by me. Got anybody else in mind in case this Tab Hunter kid don't work out?"
"Yeah, stop to think of it, I do. There's this new young actor. He was just in this Broadway play called The Immoralist."
"What's his name?"
"James Dean."
"Dean. Shmean. We can live without him. In the meantime, Leif's bringing in the bucks. He's a gold mine, that's for sure. God forbid anything should change."
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
July 29th, 1953
Dear Leif,
In Japanese this is called a rabu-reta, a letter of love. These are the most difficult lines I've ever written because I'm saying goodbye, not to someone I no longer love, but to someone whom I love more than ever. How then, when I feel for you as I do, have I been able to arrive at such a decision, a decision that causes me to cry as I write these words and will, perhaps, cause you to shed tears as well?
Among the many memories that will remain with me wherever I go, and for as long as I live, will be the rhapsodic oneness of that night at the Taj Mahal. That evening in India symbolizes for me the impermanent embrace of the permanent ideal, that which we strive for but rarely attain, and that which I found in life but now relinquish. That incomparably exquisite tomb was one man's expression of love for another human being.
No one in the distant future will ever see such a similar monument of mine to you but, instead, will see you in a cavalcade of films that would not exist if my presence were to be ongoing. For, dearest Leif, the storm clouds of paranoia have already engulfed us, ready to burst at any moment.
I cannot understand why two people who love each other should be so victimized. Though I don't have the answer, I do, I believe, have the solution.
You are now too famous a man to love in private. Your status will, inevitably, incite a terrible jealousy. The weapon to be used to cut you down to size would, unfortunately, be me. I, who love you most, would become the unwitting instrument of your destruction.
Only if I were totally selfish could I turn a blind eye to such an unavoidable pattern of events. As we both know, at great cost to ourselves, that ugliness has already manifested itself. But I see it as merely a prelude for the demolition that would follow.
Leif, my dearest friend, for the present I am returning to Europe to dance. As for the future, I will see your each and every film. As I once sat in the darkness, and in thrall, during The Night The Sky Rained Gold, I will remain under that spell, offering an everlasting prayer of thanks for having been able to love you, and to have been loved by you in return.
Leif, beloved Leif, may the Infinite Intelligence protect you always. And when, in the fullness of time, He chooses to have me in His world of spirit, I will love you no less then, than now.
Yours,
Kenji
In UK: £5.99
In Finland: 9.00 euros
Paperback, 202 pages,
ISBN 951-98232-1-2, published 2003
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