The problem with living forever is none of that sentimental nonsense, about lacking love, and purpose, and morale.
When you are all but a god, when you have gained immortality with mere more than a wish, why would matters of the heart appeal to you?
No, no, the problems that Dorian Gray faced were far more irritating. Boredom, repetition, the mundane. He'd tried everything, from drugs, to booze, to women, to men, to both at the same time. None satisfied his constant, insatiable need to feel every single moment of the eternal life granted to him, and feel it to the fullest.
He needed something more. More than the high society eagers who threw themselves at him, constantly needing affection and reassurance and, God forbid, love.
"What are you thinking about, Dorian?" asked a young woman to his right, nude apart from a rather pathetic-looking pair of panties. Sarah? Sandra?
"What's your name again?" he sighed, shifting slightly and gesturing for the completely bare young gentleman to his left to begin massaging his back.
"Serena, sir," Well, he got the "S" right, after all. She spoke her name demurely, batting her eyelashes and resting her head on his stomach. Perhaps the actions would have driven him over the edge a few years ago, but all she seemed was incredibly naieve. Couldn't be much older than 18, the poor thing.
"I've been thinking about how cold I am, Serena, would you mind terribly getting out my robe, and perhaps a few more blankets for all of us," Serena hopped from the enormous bed with the speed of the young, narrowly avoiding someone passed out on the floor. She was halfway out of the bedroom when his temporary-masseuse stopped her.
"I can get that, sir, I know your home far better-" he pleaded, rising from his spot, but Dorain raised a lazy hand.
"Very kind of you...Marcus?" Dorian twisted his neck slightly to observe the man, and Marcus nodded eagerly. "Yes, very kind, but Serena's a smart girl and you're currently doing an excellent job on my back," Marcus beamed with pride and began his work again. Serena bowed (this was probably going to get to his head, eventually, maybe), and trotted off to the linen cupboards.
"Yes, Marcus, you're the doctor, aren't you?" Dorian went on.
"I am, sir. Just finished my studies this month," Marcus replied promptly.
"Congratulations then, as a habit I - gently now - only trust those experts of the human anatomy with my massages," It was a load of garbage, but Marcus ate it up.
"I'm honored, sir," There was a breathlessness to his voice.
"Tell me, Marcus, in your professional opinion, how does one cure boredom?" Dorian didn't expect a real answer, of course, but he didn't mind thinking out loud, now and again.
"Well, sir, it all depends," Unaware of his actions, Marcus began to dig deeper into Dorian's tense muscles. "It depends on why you're bored, how long, who bored you-"
"For God's sakes, Marcus," groaned Lady Birdwell on Marcus' left, face buried in a pillow. "This isn't medical. Obviously, Dorian darling just needs something new,"
"But I can't find anything," Dorian whined, not even bothering a glance at the all but inebriated Lady Birdwell's form.
"Perhaps, Dorian, you just need some inspiration," Marcus offered timidly. Dorian stiffened underneath his hands.
"I've got what you asked for, Dorian!" Serena called sweetly, but Dorian was already sliding out of bed.
"Serena, do me one more favor and pick out something nice for me to wear. Not too nice, I want to blend in,"
"But...but sir-"
"I thought you hadn't finished with us yet, Dorian?" Lady Birdwell inquired, put off enough that she even bothered to raise her head.
"Yes, well, now I am finished. If you're really that disappointed, please, fuck each other, it's my treat," he replied, searching through his closet.
"That one's nice, sir," Marcus supplied, and Dorian began dressing. "But please, why are you leaving? Did I say something wrong?" He and Serena looked at Dorian with the most innocent, longing expressions, wide-eyed does with trust in the hearts. Lady Birdwell was already asleep again.
"Not at all, Marcus," Dorian answered as gently as he had the motivation to. He crossed the large bedroom to the bed and kissed Marcus hard on the mouth, stepping on the unconcsious floor man by accident.
"You, Marcus, have given me everything I needed. Talk to Serena. Or take her. She's very good, for an amateur," He patted young Serena on the head, and then Dorian Gray was out the door, down the hallway, and into London beyond.
"Absolute fucker," Lady Birdwell muttered, but she sighed into her pillow with a dazed grin. Serena and Marcus looked at each other for a long time, before Serena eventually mounted the bed and crawled beside him.
It was hard to be a second choice to Dorian Gray.
YOU ARE READING
Salvation: Book I
Historical FictionAngels and Demons collide in Victorian London as several people, linked by the unbreakable bonds between them, attempt to better understand life, love, loss, and the meaning of salvation. Based loosely on the premise of the program Penny Dreadful...
