Sex. Pain. Angel. Love.

Ankhesenpaaten Ra

"You know what? Depeche Mode is so fucking weird!"
Martin L Gore


Dave laughed, tossed up the coin and caught it in the air.
- When I talked to Bugs Bunny he always advised me to take life as it is. Life is not good but life is not bad or so other people are thinking. It is hard thought. But it is hard for everybody. Forget your despair. You are not the first but she is not the last.
The man who was sitting at a table looked at him with the weird expression on his face.
- Should I take it like that…- he said – All my problems are following the fact that I have never talked to Bugs Bunny?
He didn’t smile while he told that. Dave looked at him, wondering if the rude irony of Martin’s words was addressed to him, or to Martin himself. But in case of Martin he used to think that usually his worst suggestions were true and Dave frowned, evidently offended by his words. Martin straightened in his armchair and looked at him again, now his eyes lightened with laughter.
- Obviously, - he repeats, - Because I’ve never talked to Bugs Bunny. I am helpless like a child. I haven’t got Bugs Bunny.
- You haven’t got Tiny Man either – Dave adds hiding his smile, trembling in the corners of his mouth.
- No I haven’t.
- And the lion.
- I am totally screwed up, Dave; - Martin laughed – Life hates me.
Dave laughed with him and came closer. He stood behind the chair and put his palm on Martin’s curly head with all pathos he ever had in him.
- Dave, I’ve just improved what I thought was the biggest mistake of my life. Thought I can`t say that I am happy now.
Dave tapped his hair
- Your problem is that you want too much Mart, - he said slipping his hands into the pockets and taking a sit on the table - Too much. Unbearable. If one person loves you not the way that you think one has to, it doesn’t mean that one does not.
Martin frowned; he wanted to say something but just bit his lips. Dave made a false laugh.
- Anyway who am I to judge? Forget everything that I’ve said before. I must be reminding you some kind of a TV Preacher.
Martin’s teeth glimpsed in a smile
- Reach out and touch Dave! - He archly piped up the line, it’s the one fans always sang at concerts
- Are you going to stay here any longer? - Fletch appeared at the door, he was all ready with his make-up done and ready for the shooting.
Martin stood up and went on, Dave Gahan followed him. He thoughtfully examined Martin from tip to toe. Who could think that they would be able not to see each other for that long? He gazed at Martin, absorbing each detail with his greedy eyes. It was easier. It seemed easier this way, from behind, so he could avoid the danger of facing his look. He couldn't explain what kind of danger was that look, but though was panic-stricken of it. As if Martin would start to ask him questions or demand the answer. No, HE won't ask. So why bother? And he kept on staring at Martin's wide shoulders.
He couldn't remember again how it was the first time. It's not like it wasn't important to him. No, put at all in it. It was just very important. He thought, that there was something hidden that he could miss in this recollection, some kind of solution and some key to all the events. He couldn't wake up without this knowledge. It was hell important. But he couldn't remember how it was the first time.
Maybe, the problem was that everything connected to Martin involved sex. He always pretended it wasn't like that.That it was just friendship, job and common interests, and some fun. But it was actually sex. And self-esteem, of four of them, four times multiplied by four.

Chapter 1

Martin stood near the synthesizer, wearing earphones; agonizingly trying to materialize all that was burning and boiling inside of him. Reality was disappointing all the time. Something was obviously wrong. He was sure that he was alone in the studio, that's why he nearly jumped up from surprise, when Alan sneaked up from behind. Wilder embraced him across the waist, lifting him up, making his legs take off from floor. Martin resisted him with laughter and after winning this short skirmish, turned to face him, taking off his earphones.
- Hello, - he was suddenly embarrassed by his gaze.
- Hi, - Alan said, - what's going on here?
- I think….probably…. I have… some ideas, - Martin turned away from him, snatching at the topic of a job with obvious relief, - something like that.
He thoughtfully and slowly ran through a melody with one finger, singing along the words, which were on his mind at the moment.
- M-m-mmm-m-m-mmm, - Alan sang along with him, listening with delight, - a good one…. Maybe… Could be, but…
- But? - Martin straightened up and looked at him across the shoulder. Wilder stepped towards and nestled up to his back with his entire body, whispering passionately:
- But… we might need what I call, - he blew in Martin's ear, making him tremble, - a screwdriver work.
Alan casually shifted the strap of his mate's vest, keeping on mumbling some sweet nothing in his ear, and at the same time he persistently stimulated Martin's nipple with index finger. Martin sighed, making him keep on canoodling.
- Teasing, - Martin whispered.
- No. You are teasing, - Alan answered.
He started to stroke seminude skin with both hands, warming it more with every move, more and even more than ever possible. He pressed himself close with his lips to a bared brittle shoulder, he touched protruding bones, and was filled with a weird, almost paternal feeling. He groaned, suddenly embracing his younger brothers' body, as though taking him under his protection, and felt that he was stunned with unbelievable access of tenderness, which covered the simplicity of usual sexual excitement.
He freeze, feeling the beat of Martin's heart with his palms, his heart leaped up; obviously his caress didn't leave the guy indifferent. He turned around in his embrace, wrapping his hands around his neck, standing on a tiptoe for their faces to be on the same height, since Alan was taller.
- What if anybody comes in? - Martin whispered hardly audible so close to his mouth.
- C’mon, the night fell down to Earth. Have you ever seen any workaholics between our lads? - Alan grinned, not letting to adjoin intentionally, but not increasing the distance between their lips. The yearning grew up with every second. Now the closeness of their bodies became the thing that couldn’t be ignored. However time run through, but neither of them moved, waiting for one to give up first.
- You. Kiss, - Alan whispered gruffly.
Martin didn't move.
- Mart.
- Huh?
- Kiss, - he repeated.
Martin didn't react.
- Kiss me, - it was hard to understand was it an order or entreaty.
Martin shook his head, the corner of his lips trembled in a smile.
- Why? - Alan asked again.
- No.
- Are you playing around with me?
Alan growled, dug his teeth into Martin's lips, knocking him down to the floor, simultaneously overturning a stand, folding chair and loud speaker.
Martin thrown his head back, uncovering his neck to the passionate kisses. Alan climbed up on him, lifted up his vest, to the throat, with both hands. He ran his tongue over his body, leaving a wet line above the navel. Martin shivered under Alan, provoking in return a trembling joy from the awareness of his domination over this body and the reaction he caused. It was the thing that Alan couldn't get accustomed to. He hardly suppressed the wail of rapture, rushing out of his chest, when he literally had to hold Martins' hands with both his arms, pressing them next to the floor; at the moment he voluptuary licked his chest. He grabbed the hot pink nipple with his teeth, not worrying if such careless treatment hurts. But the sound he made, the calling of his name, made it worth it.
Alan grabbed Martins' crotch through his jeans with his hand, starting to stroke it more urgently, while scratching his flank with his teeth, making him meander under him.
The belt jerked. Bringing freedom to the yearning flash. Alan took him into his mouth. Martin twitched under him like a real racer. Alan placed his palm on his stomach. He didn't stop caressing him for an entire second, increasing tempo of his movements on him. Making Martin breath harder and faster. Squeezing his hips to the bruises and pain, only to understand that he`s gone over the edge himself, even without undoing his own pants.


The next dreary rainy day in the studio passed ordinarily plain and boring. As the day was over, Dave and Alan were already sitting in a little pub, generously rewarding themselves after a hard working day. The band didn't record an entire song during the day, but then they were debating all the time. Alan and Fletch have just stopped talking to each other. Dave and Martin nearly fought a couple of times because of a line in the song, which should be sang in different ways and cause of the kettle, which was cranked by somebody. Alan jabbed hardly-breathing and looking askance, with hatred on his blonde opponent Dave on the street to catch some air. Fletch had just grabbed Martin by the hand, and led him immediately after.
- Why the fuck are you staring at me? - his Enemy was yearning to resume the fight as far as he had been left without supervision, since Fletch had stopped to say something to Daniel.
- STARING? ME? - Dave said with indignation.
They grappled again, trying to break each others' head upon the wall in the studio, while Fletch and Wilder towed them apart, mumbling something unpleasant. Fletch towed his childhood friend in (insert an) unknown direction. And Dave stayed with Alan.
Dave gulped half of mug of ale at once and clattered it on a table.
- I am… treating him… - he started, loudly and pathetically, not caring about beer moustache, - with all my heart, huh? And he? As usual, like an ass.
Alan propped up his cheek with his arm and looked at Dave. Who continued his monologue.
- Arrogant brat. Presumptuous Motherfucker. Selfish asshole. Is it ok that we, miserable people, dare to approach him sometimes, huh? Fucking Genius.
- Who? – asked Alan with rising interest.
- Mister Martin Lee Gore! - Dave bellowed, making some respectable bourgeois guy, sitting at the next table with a mug in his hands, twitch at the neck in a frightened manner.
The red-haired fellow joyfully laughed out loud, throwing his head backwards.
- You care for him, don’t ya? – said Alan.
- Me? - Dave asked, drained his mug and smacked his lips.
Alan nodded.
- I don’t give a shit, - Dave claimed, - Fuck him. Sideways.
Alan lit a cigarette to hide the grin, held out another to Dave. Dave inhaled, caught a cough. Alan thoughtfully exhaled up a stream of smoke. They were quiet for some time. Dave twirled paper beer stand in his arms.
- Listen, Al, - Dave touched him on a shoulder, - Errm, well… you know we are like talking here. But you are messing with him…I mean you and Mart …kind-a buddies, huh? Has he ever said something…about me?
Alan's foxy features delighted the way only he knew.
- No, never, - he said but recognizing disappointment in Dave's face, he added, - Well, I guess we didn't talk much to him yesterday.
The phrase seemed rather ambiguous to Alan and he added quickly:
- Well, you know, Mart, he is not that communicative…
It was strange, but Dave didn't notice anything. Apparently he was too into a new idea born in his mind.
- I thought, they'd rather come today, - he said, - It is interesting for me, what the hell they are doing with Fletch if they didn't honor us with their presence?
Alan couldn't resist the temptation, and bended to Dave's ear, and told him only one word, which was on his mind, but audibly and in syllables.
- What? - Dave asked as his face blushed.
- I'm joking. Football. They're playing football, - Alan said, turning away.
They appeared later. Andy Fletcher floated into the smoky pub like a cruiser, and, following him, maestro Gore steamed in with the over familiar walk and independent look. They ordered more beer. And more. And then again. Briefly speaking, the evening was good.
Fletch was building some cunning combinations from beer-lids, incredibly excited, explaining strategy and tactics of football and telling how Arsenal scored their neighbors. Martin was quiet. Apparently, physical exercises had drained him of adrenalin and he kept silent, confused most of the time, nodding only.
Later Fletch loudly announced that he should piss. Alan followed him, leaving Martin and Dave together alone. Now they both kept embarrassing silent. Not even dare to look to each other.
- I'm…like-a….uh… - Dave's finally uttered hardly, watching long eyelashes with white tips of down eyes trembled on Martin's cheeks.
- Yeah, - Martin whispered hardly audible, - me too…
Dave exhaled loudly. And silently held out the bottle to Martin, they clinked glasses and gulped.
- Fuck, - Dave said in a fit of temper.
- You know, how hard it is…. - Martin began, but suddenly changed his mind to continue, brokenly gulped the beer from the bottle.
Dave nodded enthusiastically. Words have just stuck somewhere in his throat, he slapped Martin on his shoulder and sniffed.


Martin remembered everything just from the exact moment. Just when Daniel's party started and he gathered half-town in it. Daniel’s house was arranged in American style with billiard and playroom in a basement. While most of the guests were dancing and drinking upstairs, Martin stood near the green table, bluntly staring at the cue in the middle of it and feeling himself like a complete idiot for an unknown reason. He tried to flirt with a brunette in red dress, hanging around there, she turned out to be a cousin of his ex-classmate, but some time later he was bored with her too.
Alan was sitting in a leather armchair, behind him, and, as well as drinking a beer, he periodically made comment about every single song, reached him from upstairs. Two plain wenches, sitting on both his sides, were listening to him with amazement and laughing politely when he hinted he was joking. Daniel was talking lively with five guests on a large sofa, pilled up with cushions, and painted in abnormal optimistic colors with hippie-style. Two guys in the opposite corner of the basement played table-football. Only Martin preferred to stand silently near the billiard table and stared bluntly at a cue. It seems that he'd come here with his girlfriend, but she got drunk rather quickly and disappeared in an unknown direction.
Fletch went down from the first floor to a basement, stepped up and stood silently near Martin.
- Have you seen Anna? - Martin wondered not looking at Fletch. Andy shook his head negatively:
- I'll go search for her, - he said and hiccupped thoughtfully, peering at Dave, who had followed him downstairs. Dave had dressed in white trousers and a denim jacket and sprang out a guise of some kind of superhero-macho, making all the chicks on a party drool over him. Plain wenches roused, peering at him, and became more lively.
- Having fun? - Dave examined the melancholy face of his friend understandingly.
- I'm trying, - Gore nodded gloomily.
- What about playing a set, Mart? - Dave wondered.
- Let's play…
Dave's face delighted with a pleasure when he walked to the table. He got in between Fletch and Martin, actively moving his arms and shoulders, though there was plenty of free space around the table; Fletch shook his head and moved away.
- Gave me a cue somebody? Give me a cue, huh? - Patrick and Robert, two dumb, always chewing guys, friends of somebody's friends, peered at Dave gloomily. A pretty girl in a short skirt and with freckles, stood up from a hippie-style couch and handed him a cue, playfully rocking her hips, Dave grinned pleasantly and smacked her ass slightly.
- Have you prepared well, Martin? I'll obviously score more than balls tonight, - Dave grinned, and occasionally grazed Martin with his shoulder, sticking out his plump lip and concentrating on polishing his cue with the chalk.
- Oh, yeeeeaaaaah… - Alan laughed out loud, blowing froth from a just opened bottle of beer on a floor, - Dave rule!
Martin glanced at Dave across his shoulder:
- I'll score to you, milksop, - he grinned, - you will be begging me to stop.
- Whaaat did you say? – asked Dave with a threatening voice and shook his chin in Martins' direction.
Martin grabbed a cue and abruptly turned to Dave, getting so close that they're nearly adjoined.
- You heard, - Martin said and grinned remotely.
Dave just stood in front of him and breathed hardly.
- Hey, hey, break, - Daniel got in between them pushing them apart, - Just crash something here, you geeks.
- Dave had suddenly laughed out loud.
- - Shall we elucidate who's wearing the trousers here?
Martin smirked and frowned jestingly.
- You start, - he said, placing his hand on green velvet of the table. Dave nestled up to him with his entire body and whispered:
- Lady first, - Martin blushed but realized that nobody, except him, heard that and just jabbed Dave with his shoulder.
- Who ever looses, takes off… oooone cloth, - Dave piped up, playing the stripper, rocking slightly his hips and imitating that he's going to take his jacket off; chicks cried out from rapture.
Martin's face stayed stony. He bent above the table slowly, smashing balls apart and luckily pocketing a ball from the first strike. Dave gave a whistle and bent above the table near him, when Martin was preparing to strike again.
- Be gone, - Martin told quietly.
- I like it here, - Dave leaned in closer, breathing in his ear, - Take left, baby, oh, yeah, lower, take these two smooth balls.
- You Bitch, - Martin hissed through clenched teeth, grinning, jabbing Dave in the stomach with his elbow and making him laugh.
One ball hit another, that hit the third, making two balls roll into the different pockets simultaneously. Somebody applauded. Alan whistled. One more strike and another. Dave seemed to lose his whole interest in the game. He walked from Martin and leaned on the opposite side of the table. Martin's head began spinning. No, he didn't understand what was going on at that moment, well, in whole, nothing had happened. He just stopped seeing and hearing anything, except Dave, who was standing in front of him.
As though it was slowed-down shooting, that he saw his hand stroking the surface of the table, like caressing it, slowly and surely. He saw his set aside hips, rocking slightly and impatiently. Dave was looking somewhere and talking to somebody. Martin just watched his lips moving and didn't want to watch anything else. His palms had perspired, his arms began shaking, he just dropped the cue and… missed. Stupidly, unbearably stupidly and cynically missed. Dave's eyes lit up from pleasure.
That was the exact moment when Martin realized, that he had lost this set and lost it, as it seemed, irretrievable. And it was not only about the game.
But though, he didn't lose without the pleasure for the guests and Dave himself, who with indescribable pleasure watched Martin, looking like an unhappy Pierrot, take off his black sweater over his head, slowly and exceptionally wantonly rocking his hips. Even Alan crept closer and tried to thrust him one-pound note in his belt.
Soon Martin went out to wash his face. He went as he was; he had left his sweater in the basement. Half-drunk public on the first floor didn't find anything weird in a seminude man, though some plump lady asked him when the desert will be served and, not waiting for an answer, zonked out and snorted. Both toilet rooms on the first floor were occupied and, according to the sounds, which were reaching from inside, occupied for long.
Martin took the second floor. It was dark and quiet there. He found the door. The Bathroom had been organized by Daniel in old-fashioned Victorian style. Its purple-gold walls were winded round with roses; a copper sink was placed on wooden cupboard with bended stems. There was a bit blurred mirror and endless pink sachets, spilled in baskets, making the air impregnated with rose oil. It should be mentioned, that for an odd reason Martin conceived hatred for this smell after that party. The music resonated loudly in his ears with rumble of concrete walls. Martin turned on the water and washed his burning face, trying to cool it. The door slammed open. Letting the hubbub of people's voices and loud music in.
- Waiting for me? - Alan leaned to the door with tap, demonstratively cracking the door-lock.
Martin glanced at him through the mirror. Alan was gazing at him, his eyes converged, his face and smooth pale chest in undone silk black shirt were glittering from sweat.
- Yes, - Martin whispered hardly audible. Alan had not only heard his answer, but understood him by the movement of his lips in the mirror.
Gore turned around. He walked to Alan slowly, on unbending legs. His face grew pale, the pupils widened so much that the eyes from transparent green, like forest backwater, turned almost black.
Step and one more step towards. He peered at Alan's mouth. The red-haired guy smacked his lips nervously; they became dry in a moment, as though Martin's look was truly able to do this. One more step, Martin laid his hands on Alan's flanks and raised his head, and touched Wilder's mouth with his warm lips slowly and tenderly. Then broke apart for a moment, feeling like electricity stitching his lips, flooding warmth over his whole body. He touched his mouth again softly, as though stroking its smooth skin with his lips like a feather.
Alan grabbed Martin's hands, right above leather bracelets with metal rings, Martin groaned with fervor, excited cause of sensitive contact and freeze, waiting for something more. He stroked Martin's hands, squeezed his wrists, the sense of skin and metal under his palms filled his head with pictures, with their weirdness he was affected by himself. But though something should have been arranged by now, and Alan placed Martin's hands closer to the buckle of his belt.
Martin broke away his lips and looked down, Alan has given him a free hand and he turned and started to undo his belt thoughtfully. Alan gazed at him with greedy eyes, on his frequently heaving chest and shoulders, on touching blonde forelock and half-opened lips, which grew pink from the kisses. He groaned impatiently, biting his index finger, when the goddamn buckle yielded at last.
Actually, he thought Martin would undo his pants too, but suddenly Martin stepped back. He went down slowly, looking Alan in the eye, and stood on his knees.
Alan was waiting. But nothing has happened. Martin was just standing on his knees, on the tiled floor, humbly waiting, but doing nothing.
- By yourself? - Alan asked but didn't get the answer, - You won't?
Martin shook his head negatively, Alan recognized the game.
- Good… - he said, - Okay… good. If you want…
Martin grinned bizarrely. Alan too, but with some kind of self-confidence now, demonstratively undoing the fly of his own leather trousers and getting out his already rather hard cock. He squeezed it slightly in his palm, ran his hand over the sensitive skin, and even this touch made him sigh voluptuary.
- You want this, Mart, don't you? You want him?
He grabbed Martin's chin with the other hand, demandingly squeezing it with his fingers and inducing him to open his mouth.
- Open it, - Martin's behavior started to annoy him, though he tried to cover it with laughter, - open your mouth, you stubborn slut…
He ran his cock over Martin's lips, loudly exhaled the air through clenched teeth from shock caused by a touch of other's skin.
- Come on…stop wasting my time, - now his voice gave away his desperate desire, - don't be idle, you have a job to do, babe.
To his surprise, this time Martin submitted at once, more then this, he'd submitted with unexpected enthusiasm. He not only touched tenderly a wet tip of cock with his lips, but he thrusted his hand under Alan's, steel squeezing hard dick and grabbed his balls from below.
Martin staggered backwards, feeling Alan's taste, and smacked his lips slowly, convinced that his lover's eyes were chained to his mouth. But this time he didn't tease him for long, because his lips were burning with desire to feel the velvet touch of his cock again. Martin kissed him again, and then he took deeper, more and more with every second and every movement, getting lost and dissolving in this urgent endless rhythm of joy, and he touched Alan's hand, holding himself in a dead grip, and almost set him free from the passionate captivity.
Alan screwed up his eyes, concentrating on mind-blowing sensations. He placed his free hand on Martin's shaved nape, motivating him to continue. Though Martin wasn't going to stop, it should be mentioned, to his honor, that he was working very well.
Alan had thrown his head backwards, cranking it upon the wooden door colored in dark paint. The pleasure grew in him with every second, with Martin's every movement on him, tickling his balls and spreading warm shoves of blood over his body from stomach to the heels.
He felt Martin's excitement too and it really didn't resist the possibility of withholding the swiftly coming orgasm. He nearly tore out his hot, wet cock and pulled Martin away, breathing heavily.
- Don't you, - he whispered, - want to ask me about anything?
Martin straightened his legs, throwing himself backwards, on elbows, and stretched on a floor. He grated his lips, glancing at Alan, rising above him, frowningly, his arm slipped down, pleasantly stroking his chest and stomach. And then lower, just like this, kept on gazing at Alan, squeezing his cock right through the thick denim of jeans and kept on stroking himself. He groaned, throwing his head backwards; everything went dark before Alan's eyes.
Why should I ask? - Martin said with gruffness, there was sound of provocation in his tone.
- Bitch, - Alan said in a fit of temper and stepped forward. He threw Martin's hand rudely from his fly with his shoe. He climbed up on his seminude body, pressing it to the floor, making Martin sob from rapture, caused by this touch.
Alan ran his finger over Martin's lips, who took it in his mouth. And the other hand Alan stretched backwards and grabbed Martin's balls. Though physically it wasn't possible, Martin bent under him and groaned.
- Bitch, - Alan Wilder ascertained the fact doomly.
He took off his hands, descended with his ass across the other's stomach, grabbed Martin's face in his arms, and moved his lips closer to him. But not to kiss him, no.
- You see, - he began whispering, - answering your question, I guess, I should explain to you what exactly is going on here.
Martin's eyes had suddenly opened with interest. It was hard to tell what he was thinking about at that entire moment, but he was contemplating, that's for sure.
- In short, - Alan said, - you have a choice. Yes, you have. You don't have to ask me. You just do not have to tell me anything, oh, no problems, - he smirked, - I'll just thrust my fucking dick into your mouth again, and that's all. But don't think that I will let you come.
Martin meandered under him, unpleased, Alan grabbed his hands and extended them behind Martin's head.
- Yeah, babe, can you imagine how does it feel to stay in such a condition, like you now, mmm? You seem to imagine, - Alan licked his cheek, making Martin screw up his eyes. - Or you gonna tell me what I should do with you, and, Marty, kind Uncle Alan will do his best to please you, and you won't forget it until day-after-tomorrow. Come on, don't waste my time, or my balls will grow blue.
Alan was going to stand up and do it, as he promised.
- Alan…
- I am here, Mart.
- Do it.
- What, Mart? Do what?
- Fuck you, Alan… are you kidding?
- The hell I am. All that I want is you to just tell me what you want from me? WHAT should I do?
Martin looked at him desperately.
- You ask me to fuck you or I’ll just come in your pretty mouth and we’ll say goodbye to each other until the next suitable occasion?
- Alan…
- I am here, Mart.
- Fuck me.
- AHA!
Alan climbed up on him with the wail of the winner, striping the jeans from Martin's hips and turning the guy over on his stomach. All in all, they didn't care about ceremonies and he didn't, he didn't even move Martin's legs apart, directing his cock with a sure hand. He fucked Martin, lying on top, squeezing his hips with his own, making their confluence so intensive, that he nearly wailed every time he made forward movements. He grabbed Martin's hair, pulled his head backwards, and dug his teeth into his neck to quiet his own groans. In fact, he didn't lie, he was not only enjoying himself, but he really helped his mate soon. He turned them both over to one side, and was stroking his lover until he trembled under him and cried gruffly, through clenched teeth, making him entirely lose control and shiver in uncontrolled agony of orgasm.
It seemed that some time passed, but it was hard to say what time exactly.
A Loud knock on the door and offensive screams made them both leap up from the floor like being stung. To put their clothes right in a huddle with shaking hands. Alan nearly forced a lock, indignating about his misbehaving hands.
The door swung open.
There was Dave waiting for his turn for a long time and skipping impatiently.
- Alan? - he greeted him smirkly, - hello, buddy, Alan, I thought you left, I've been looking for you everywhere for an hour.
While they were shaking each other's hands and happily slapping each other on a shoulder, Martin tried to duck imperceptibly by the wall.
- Ma-a-a-a-a-a-a-arty, - he shivered from unexpected hail and stopped, turning around. Dave stepped in closer to him, it seemed that he'd forgotten for a second a general reason of his appearance in here.
- What were you two doing in there? - Dave asked with a slight slur caused by the alcohol, - Together, huh? Behind the locked door? Is it scary to pee alone? - he grinned.
Martin's lips trembled in a smile even against his will.
- I guess I over drunk, - he forced himself to say, his lips misbehaved, he looked down, - and I feel bad.
- I should have helped my friend… - Alan said, grabbing suddenly bent for an unknown reason Martin at his waist. Even though Dave was drunk, the exact precision of touch didn't pass him by. Alan didn't understand what was going on, but the space between Martin and Dave grew with electricity suddenly. Dave glanced at Alan's hand one more time and turned around to go away, but he changed his mind at the last moment.
- I almost forgot… - he placed his right hand on Martin's nude shoulder, stopping his ability to breath for a second, - your chick, - he forced himself to laugh out loud and dried his eyes with his free hand, hiding his face, - they're there…licking with Fletch, drunk like hell… Fun-fucking-tastic.
He looked straight in Martin's face, Dave's eyes were black and terrific, but though blonde's face didn't react in return, he was just gazing at him, he even didn't blink. Dave didn't endure first and lowered his gaze. He looked at his hand on his friend's shoulder, utterly tenderly stroked the mark near Martin's neck, which grew pink, from lover's teeth.
- What the hell am I talking about… you don't give a fuck… - he replied with weird mixture of sadness and disappointment in his voice, and looked in the green eyes again, swiping him with words:
- Snake… - he said through his clenched teeth, - viper.


Rain was pouring down like hell all night, and the gloomy downing of the next morning didn't deprive him of tiniest part of his energy. It was raining through and through and, as it seemed, wasn't going to stop at all. Dave was rushing to the studio, jumping over the large puddles, lifted up his jacket collar. There were no passers-by on the street and he kept on running not looking forward. He was already late. It was nearly half past twelve. Dave nearly jabbed an elderly gentleman in a raincoat and with a black umbrella from the pavement on the crossing of two streets, he excused himself while running, not turning back, realizing more utterly that he will be killed for sure. By all three of them. With particular cynicism. The door slammed open and he felt the wave of warmth. The guys lit the fire on the first floor so the dank dampness vanished. It was strangely quiet.
Dave hung up his jacket downstairs, and rushed upstairs, tousling his wet hair. He expected to face the active working process. Alan, shaking his head in earphones, practicing with new sounds on the synthesizer, because they'd made it a rule with Martin once not to repeat the same sound in the songs twice. Martin, strummed on a guitar, humming something, and not paying any attention to what's going on around him, cheerful Fletch with cup of coffee and newspaper, Daniel with cigar, who'd talk and crack horny jokes with a couple of sound producers. The phone, ringing out off the hook all day long in the lobby, and Bruce, who'd debate there with somebody all day long. But today he was greeted by the pin-drop silence. Dave opened the door and came into the semi-dark smoky studio. There were two of them. Fletch was sitting on the floor and gazing at his hands. Alan was sitting in a high chair, rocking his leg, smoking cigarette after cigarette thoughtfully, and sinking them in a coffee-cup.
- Sorry, fellas, I'm late, - said Dave.
Alan grinned and looked aside. Fletch looked at Dave but said nothing. His face was depressed. Little by little Dave started to remember what have happened yesterday. And little by little he started to realize that it wasn’t a nightmare.
- Um… and where's Mart? - He wondered.
Fletch moved his lips but they refused to make any sound.
- He hasn't come yet, - Alan said instead of him.
- That's weird, usually he isn't late… - Dave began.
- For four hours and a half… - Alan finished Dave's phrase spitefully.
- Did you call him?
Alan nodded.
- I've even visited him, - suddenly Fletch replied gloomy, - he told me to fuck off but didn't open the door.
Dave sighed loudly and slipped his hands in his pockets. And finally he remembered everything.
- Situation Normal All Fu-u-u-u-cked Up, - he said.
- That was exactly what I’ve said – Alan nodded again.
- Did you… record something? Anything?
- We are not in the mood.
- Where's Daniel?
- Gone. And Bruce. He told us to call him if whatsoever.
Dave rubbed his forehead.
- Headache. Damn those hangovers… hey guys, fancy a beer?
The guys' faces suddenly came alive. Even Fletch stood up from the floor.
- Let me buy some, I think I should walk a bit.
- Here you are, - Dave extracted money from a pocket, and Alan put his, too, Fletch went downstairs.
After a little recovery they had a chance to work a bit, though Dave was mumbling from time to time, that Maestro will come now and say that all of them are fools and everything sucks and he wasn't writing that this way and all their work will go down the drain. The day draws to a close. But still Maestro didn't say anything, because he never appeared.
- Listen, Al, - Dave settled himself down on a couch , near the wall, stretching his legs in polished shoes. Alan stood up from a chair and set down next to Dave, - listen, pal, what do you think, maybe I said something wrong yesterday?
- Well, what can I say…
- Shit, I don't know what the hell got over me… he should have known everything, huh? - Dave placed his ankle on his knee, uncovering a snow-white sock, - Shit. I am a complete moron, I shouldn’t have done that. Friends shouldn’t do things like that.
- I have no idea, - Alan shook his shoulders, - Probably. Maybe.
- But you. You’ve been with him because of her? Because of Anna?
Alan screwed up his eyes.
- I doubt. He told me nothing about her. But who knows…who knows…
And then there was a big silence.
- What have you been doing then there together? - Dave asked quietly at last.
- What do you want to know, Dave?
- I'm curious.
- Curiosity killed the cat - Alan said in a steel voice.
- Alan, you seem to claim yourself my friend. What are the dark mysteries? I should know. I was standing at the door for half an hour…
- Well, then you didn't miss a thing.
- What exactly didn’t… I…miss? - Dave asked slowly.
Alan was looking at him frowningly. His lips turned paper-thin. He didn't say anything, but his face grew angry.
- Al? – Dave asked again, - I have to know.
- Are…you…sure that you HAVE TO? Are you fucking sure that you have to know why I was with him? Do I need to give some EXACT REASON. – Alan turned to him his nostrils were swelling from fury, - Probably I should ask you first? Shall I do something with someone? Huh? Mister Freud?
Alan leapt up from the couch and placed his hands on his hips.
- Or I might need your advise how it would be better to improve my life? - he bent above Dave and grabbed him by his collar, - Come on. Do it, Sigmund. Analyze this. Summon in three facts, I know you can. Two grown men plus one locked room. Open your eyes and see what's going on right under your very nose, Mr. Psychoanalytic.
- It can`t be true, - Dave whispered.
Alan shook him up one more time and stepped back. His face grew red. Dave kept on sitting on the couch; his face seemed to be absolutely lost.
- Fletch, say it's not true.
Fletch clasped his knee, sitting on a loud speaker, and kept silence.
- Fletch, - Dave wondered.
Fletch shook his shoulders.
- You knew it? YOU knew? - He jumped up closer to him, but only waved his hand in the end. There were tears in his eyes, - you knew it too?
He ran downstairs and slammed the door. Only when he reached the end of the block, he remembered that he'd forgotten his jacket hung on the rack. Forget it, he decided. He was going nowhere, the only thing that he didn't want to do was to go home. He passed the pub uncertainly, but then he realized that he'd given all his money to Fletch in the morning. He hurried up, the piercing wind made him huddle up, and mentioned that since he was wearing only a shirt.
He passed there three times already. Only when bumping the same bundle of trash from the local supermarket with his leg for the third time, he realized, that he was walking around in circles. Dave stopped and looked up. The windows on the second floor were dark, the guy stood for a few minutes more, and was going to leave when he noticed that the window of Martin's apartment was half-opened. There were balconies almost near from the left of window, on which the fire escape was going down. The idea, that didn’t crossed Fletch’s mind came to Dave's in a moment. More then this, he has already experienced such tricks earlier, when he was younger, with his fellows. He entered the porch, easily unlocked the door-lock, reached the loft, and went down the fire escape to the second floor.
- Mart? - he called from the balcony, but didn't get an answer.
Dave stretched his hand forwards, flicking the clamp of the top on the half-lowered heavy shutter, placed his knee on the balcony handrail, whispering to himself that this is only the second floor, all in all. The window yielded and soon he'd dragged the other leg over the window-sill. He'd nearly fallen down from surprise at the last moment.
Martin was at home. He was lying on a bed, his arms clasping his shoulders. There was a steady smell of alcohol in the room, apparently he was rather drunk. His glasses were proudly put upon his nose. Usually he was too shy to wear them. Dave sat on the bed. Martin moved, but didn't say anything.
- Why are you wearing glasses? - Dave tried to put them off, he was afraid Martin could hurt himself, - It's dark here. Anyway, you can't see any fucking thing.
- I see…see…d-d-double, - answered Martin, pushing off Dave's hand and putting the glasses back, - well, but I see double this way…- he said and took them off again - And that way … f-fuck.
He rubbed his eyes and turned his back to Dave.
- Mart, - Dave called him, - I want to talk.
- And I want to die, - Martin answered flatly, - I just want to die easy, here in my own flat. Or ain't I entitled to do it? I am an honest taxpayer of Her Majesty. I worked as a bank clerk for a whole three months.
Dave clambered up on the bed, laying his hand on Martin's shoulder.
- Fuck off - Martin said.
- I am not Fletch. Don’t talk to me like that, - Dave was getting angry.
- Do not…touch…me, - there were tears in Martin's voice, - I beg you.
- Sorry…I’m sorry… forgive me, please…Mart, Mart…- he called him once again, - Mart, turn to me. Look at me. I need it. Mart.
Martin unwillingly turned on his back and looked at him. His face was rather gloomy.
- Satisfied?
Dave gritted his teeth and shook his head.
- Tell me, Mart. But just be honest. And please don't ask me why do I need to know, and please don’t ask me why do you have to fucking tell me, okay? Just answer the question. Tell me, Mart. Yes or No.
- Yes, - Martin said with drunken chuckles, - No. No. Yes. No. More?
Dave loudly let the air out through his nostrils, desperately trying to keep himself under control.
- Is there something between you and Alan?
- W-what? - Martin asked.
- I’m asking you. Yes, or No.
- Vodka. There - Martin said. The bottle suddenly appeared in the field of his vision, on a shelf, on an unstained wood stand right opposite his bed. - I need to drink; - he rose unexpectedly quickly and headed to the bottle.
- You shouldn't drink any more, - Dave grabbed him by the hand, the other guy didn't yield, and crashed to the floor as a result, making Dave slither off the edge of the bed, clutching at the yellow bedspread, - you shouldn't' have drunk this too, - Dave said, - Martin, - he was looking at Martin, who was sitting near the bed on his heels, top down.
- Do not torture me, - Martin slowly released his hand from Dave's strong grip, - what depends on my answer?
- Everything.
- Nothing.
- Is there something between both of you? - Dave inclined closer to him.
- No, - Martin straightened against him.
- You're lying.
- I told you that nothing depends on it, - Martin went to arise, Dave didn't let him do it again so they both crashed to the floor after brief struggle. Martin hit his back against the floor, and this, by some strange reason sobered him up.
- He loves you.
Dave impended over him, implacable as Destiny. Martin closed his eyes. He tried not to see his eyes, not to see his face.
- No, - he said it only with his lips.
- You love him?
Martin turned away.
- Martin, it’s just - yes or no.
- I…
- Yes or no, Martin! - Dave's voice strained on a shout.
Martin jerked his head.
- I…I…don't know.
- Why are you lying all the time?!
- I DON`T KNOW!!! - Martin answered screaming, - get off me, leave me, and go! I didn't call you, I don't want to see you, I don't need you, Dave. - He pushed Dave off. Dave looked point-blank at him. Several minutes passed in total silence, they were just looking at each other.
- You're lying again… - finally answered Dave.
- And what would you do with my truth? - Martin said much more sensible and soberly than Dave expected from him in such a condition, - what, Dave? What will you do if I tell you all the truth? - He laughed although there were tears in his eyes, - will you hang a medal around my neck? You’ve got your own life, Dave and I’ve got mine. And I will go through my truth somehow, and you will easily go through it if you won't know it. Why did you come here? To look at me, all fucked up from every side? To make sure that I'm the nonentity, which you usually think I am? And to know what I am thinking about for your complete satisfaction? Have you looked? Is it enough?
Dave watched him in silence. The nooks of his lips were trembling, his eyebrows almost gathered on the bridge of his nose. The last outbreak took all his last strength. Martin fell on the floor again.
- All this isn't wanted for anybody. All. This. It's just stuff, happening in my head. And where did you get that you should know that? Where did you get that I will let you know it?
Suddenly Dave grasped Martin's face slowly passing his thumb over his cheek and chin.
- Why should I be interested in it, indeed? - He said suddenly. His eyes and tone of his voice grew cold. Martin looked at him; he didn't understand what he was getting at. - No, seriously, - Dave said, - who am I for you to tell me everything as it is? Who I am for you to talk with me as an equal? Who I am for you to trust me?! And who I am for you to speak to me, fuck! All I do is ask, all I do is beseech…Mart, give me some time, Mart, please, talk to me, I'm standing in line and I'm always fucking last! Who I am for you to consider with me?
- Oh, poor Dave, let me pity you… - Gore scorns, - a paltry victim….
Gahan grabbed Martin's throat with his hand, heavily exceeding all possible access of oxygen, he piled on him with the whole weight of his body pressing him to the floor. He pulled his shirt up to the throat with another hand.
- I won't ask you to give me what you can't anymore. - croaked Dave through his teeth. His face was slanted because of overflowing senses. - I just take what you can give me.
Martin snatched the hand squeezing his neck, it seemed to him that he was loosing consciousness because of lack of oxygen.
- Da-a-ve, - he was hoarse, - fuck you, stop it.
He contrived to give a slap to his nose, while the hand of the other man was busy with his trousers. Dave grabbed his nose with both his hands. Martin was trying to creep away from him, convulsively catching hold of air and clearing his throat.
- Why? - Dave wrinkled up his nose, several times opened and closed his mouth, making sure that his nose wasn't broken. The fact it was okay reassured him and he made an attempt to attack Martin's body again. - Why? It is permissible for anyone, but not for me? Am I fright? Am I worse than Alan? Believe me, I can fuck as well as he does and even better…ah…all is checked, everything is all right. Why am I worse than fucking Alan?!
He grabbed Martin's hands with his both hands, pressing him down against the floor.
- You won't do it, - said Martin.
- Why? - Dave scorned, - will you kill me?
- No, you will kill me, - Martin said amazingly calmly, looking at the ceiling pensively. – You’ve already…killed.
Not the words but the oddity of the tone suddenly sobered up Dave.
- No, you can't…- he began, - you won’t…
Martin rose on his elbow, snatching Dave's neck with a fast pounding in time with his heartbeat vein. Their faces, bodies and lips were so close, but everything that caused this closeness was just pain. An infernal pain, tearing up their innards. It squeezed lungs, tore heart, and didn't let them move. Martin screwed his eyes.
- I…- as loudly as he could do it whispering, he said, it seemed that his vocal cords had grew numb too, - also didn't think that you can…that you would…Dave, - Martin bit his lip to hold back, he started to shake, - you,…I thought that…that there is something…that I…it doesn't matter. May be we just know each other badly. Knew.
He sat on the floor wearily and covered his eyes with his hand.
- I'm tired, - he said, - And you decide. Either you stay and fuck everything except my brain, `cos I'll go crazy, but it seems to me that I had already…or you fuck off just now and…all in all…I can't mix with you anymore, Dave.
Dave breathed out and crept away, suddenly he came to consciousness. He managed to stand on his feet after a third attempt and crawled to the door on trembling knees. He didn't feel that his face was flooded with tears, he didn't see Fletch, sitting against the door, who grew pale because of his look. He came downstairs stumbling and dragged along the street, not feeling large rain-drops flowing over his cheeks together with his tears.
Fletch bursted in the apartment, mothering Dave, Martin and Alan in whole and each one in particular. Towing Martin into the bathroom, pulling almost an empty bottle of vodka out of his hands, and pulling him under a cold shower right in his clothes. Martin didn't resist, more then this, he tried to fall asleep right there, under the shower. Fletch slapped him on his cheeks twice, for brightness, and after a rather long period of time, and various efforts, he brought Martin to his senses, at least now he was sure that Martin won't die from alcohol intoxication.
Martin woke up in the morning, naked, wrapped up in blanket, in his room. He couldn't understand for a long time why Fletch was in his bed and he was buried in his shoulder, fully dressed, with jacket and shoes on. He couldn't ask him why. He was just very sure that he shouldn’t ask.

Chapter 2

Martin and Alan locked themselves in the room with glass walls. They bent their heads over the synthesizer, as far as it seemed to David, courting each other like two sweet doves. They were contriving something for the second running hour.
Dave was rocking his leg nervously, finishing his cold tea with distinct aversion. He kept calling Miller by phone for the whole week. He insisted that he wanted to leave the band. Miller was in Berlin, he kept advising Dave to freshen the nip before he’d call him again with that shit. As expected, Martin avoided him like a plague, Fletch was just very polite and Alan… He just couldn’t stand Alan.
From the other side of the glass wall he could see, Martin put on his earphones and came close to the microphone. Alan turned on his chair and propped his chin with his hand. Martin closed his eyes. His face seemed to be so dreamy and intent. Alan was exceedingly attentive. Suddenly he grinned uncontrollably, but immediately tried to hide his smirk. Martin looked at him at the exact moment so now they were both laughing. Then again they’ve made an effort to record it all. Alan shook his head from side to side, pushing some keys on the synthesizer. Then he nodded and lifted his thumbs up. Martin smiled and took off his earphones. Alan turned on the sound, rolled his eyes, he performed strange gesture in the air in a rather obscene way, displaying the whole spectrum of his own pleasure from what he has hearing. He made them both laugh once again. Dave suddenly felt that his day wouldn’t come. He stood up to go, but the door swung open.
- Dave…
The voice that called his name was unexpected as much as heartedly welcomed. Dave turned around abruptly, not having enough time to think how to act.
- Dave, - Martin smiled and beckoned him. Obviously he didn’t have any doubts if Dave would follow. However, Dave followed.
- Eureka! – Said Alan to Dave, - That means – We’ve found! Listen here…
Dave used an advantage to be together in the small room. Too small room for the three of them. So he stood as close to Martin as he could. He could feel his warmth. Martin stood near silent; somehow it filled Dave’s heart with irrational hope.
Soon he understood what made them laugh. Who would object? Those three notes at the beginning sounded much better since Martin moaned them like he was in pure ecstasy. The way they sounded made him blush. Alan noticed that.
- Depeche Mode porno style, huh?
Martin grinned. Somehow he looked a little bit confused. Dave laughed nervously. Pretty much he was trying to hide his own embarrassment too. He took some sheets of paper from the desk, holding salutary lyrics and notes as it was his last hope. Then he put on his earphones.
The magic of the music took him completely. Feelings overwhelmed him, sounds and words caressed him from inside, habitually leading him into the sweetest sort of unconsciousness. Dave closed his eyes, moving his hips the same slow and tender rhythm, as Martin’s voice tickled his naked nerves with the warm breeze.
Jealousy that pinched Dave because of the idea that Martin’s singing, better to say, ecstatic moans, were recorded not with him but with this red devil, melted down, giving the way to the dizzy feeling that those sounds existed for him only. They were caused by his will and they belonged to him.
- FUCK! – He yelled, - Fuck I’ve missed the line!!!…One more time. Go!
Martin settled himself on the table. He was looking at Dave like a cat, staring at playing sparrows through the window. There weren’t any particular thoughts in his stare. Intelligent or not. You just couldn’t read this stare at all. But something was wrong with it. He was looking at Dave, not blinking, but there wasn’t any aggression in his eyes, but there wasn’t any visible sympathy. His eyes hypnotized him, though, he was sure, unintentionally. That was just a serpent’s nature. Dave shrugged.

I’m not going down on my knees
Begging you to adore me
Can`t you see it’s misery
And torture for me

Dave started the lines, immediately getting into the mood of the song. He was almost annoyed by the response that those lyrics woke up in him. He thought he could say exactly the same words.
Yeah, fuck, for how long does this game last?

Here is a plea
From my heart to you
Nobody knows me
As well as you do
You know how hard it is for me
To shake the disease
That takes hold of my tongue
In situations like these

Good Lord! I would subscribe to all the thighs you’ve said. Yes, I would agree. Get out of my head, you pretty motherfucker, get out and stop perverting abusing my paralyzed mind.
- Understand me, - asked Martin so sweetly from his earphones, - Understand me.
Shit, If you are so smart, and you seem to understand what’s going on, why the fuck are you mock of me? Dave’s slowed down rage aroused with the renewed power.
They’ve been recording the second verse. Over and over again. Every time someone was so very unpleased with the result. Dave was sure that they were just nagging him. Martin said that that one…two times before was the best version. Alan told Dave and Martin that they are just two pot-boilers and lazy buggers, that the birth of Real Art it is hard work and diligence. Real Art is Workmanship.
Martin told him that his workmanship people usually called hack-work. That is the thing that could be done in hard work and diligence. What you can call an Art you should feel with all your heart because it is made only by God himself. Whatever God can exist. You can`t foretell it, you rather express His will, or you don’t.
Alan spitted spitefully that their song – Hey, you’re such a pretty boy, hey, hey what’s your name? - was some kind of the Revelation Divine. Martin laughed out loud, obviously Alan offended him, but he tried not to show that, he asked them both if they want to go for a drink. Dave looked at him intently and said that he would be glad, but today he`s going to get a shag. Also he said that his new chick is very nice and cute, and if they both would treat him better, he could make an attempt to talk to her about her female-friends for them. Martin looked down, he didn’t say anything. Dave went out swaying his hips and shut the door loudly. I’m not going down on my knees. I’m not going to beg you. Not me. I’m not like that. Dream on.
Martin stood up from the table. Alan’s behavior changed immediately right after Dave’s withdrawal. He grabbed Martin’s arm.
- My place?
- I… - Martin said, - I…c-can`t…
- Oh, c’mon, Martin, you know you won’t be sorry, - for some reason Alan squeezed his teeth tightly while he told that. He pushed Martin closer to himself with precise motion; - Let’s play a little…huh?
- I think, - said Martin and then became quiet.
Alan was waiting patiently.
- Probably, yes, - he said finally.

Alan opened the door with the key, switched the light on. He clutched Martin in his embraces without ceremony, right here in the small and stuffy place. He thrust Martin’s face to hysterical yellow-blue wallpapers on the corridor wall. Alan frenziedly bended his arms over his back, and shut the door.
- It is unpleasant for me, the way you are looking at him; - Martin couldn’t take his eyes off an ultramarine flower on the canary-yellow field. Those idiosyncratic roses became some kind of fetish for him. They produced inside him an aversion so deep he felt sick, thought at the same time this aversion provided distinct pathological sexual enjoyment.
- Alan, we are not…
- Shut the fuck up, till I let you speak!
Martin twitched under his pressure, his harsh words made him angry. Alan pushed his leg between Martins, spreading them wider, depriving him of the ability to move. Virtually he played an all in one game. Alan hadn’t got any advantage over Martin in his muscular strength, obviously, if Martin wouldn’t allow him, nothing would happen. Alan closed his eyes tight, and waited what next, his heart painfully pounded in his head.
- You are mine… - he wasn’t sure if he sounded affirmative or interrogative.
Martin didn’t answer, just sighed, Alan felt his body relaxed. - You are mine.
Alan tousled his hair tenderly and stepped back. Martin remained staying by the wall, spreading his legs widely and keeping his hands over his back. Alan smiled contentedly.
- Oh, yeah, - Alan whispered, stroking his mate’s shoulders with both hands, calming him down. Then he helped him to remove his t-shirt, and allowed him to take a step from the wall, - Pants – he said, - take them off, Mart.
Even in the dim yellowish light it was seen that his cheek-bones turned pink. His hands were slightly shaking from the excitement; therefore he couldn’t cope with his trousers. Alan gazed at him, devouring his every movement. When hesitatingly and gingerly jean cloth slid down the slender hips, he moved down to remove them all, then he straightened again slowly, still eyes down. Alan’s heart leaped up once again, he was extremely turned on not by the sight of Martin stripped, but by the thought that Martin stripped for him only.
Alan stood there fully clothed. He crossed his arms on his chest; he kept on staring at his mate, possessively, giving particular attention to his semi hard dick in a fair bush. Without any doubts this staring aroused and embarrassed Martin at the same time. His hands moved out of his control, in subconscious desire to hide the main reason of his sufferings.
- Hands off, - considered Alan, - I want to see…him. Perhaps it would be better if your hands would be bound. You shouldn’t have done that.
He carried out his threat and bound Martin hands with some handcuffs. He turned to face himself in a big mirror hanging on the wall. He leaned closer to his boy from the behind holding him across his body.
Martin closed his eyes enjoying the feeling that he is under somebody’s will now, and he should submit to him, he just couldn’t resist. Warm smooth hands were gliding up and down his naked body, down to his thighs, up to his navel and the chest. Strange sensation of his absolute helplessness, of being tied up and naked near the fully clothed Alan, holding him tightly, was incredibly arousing.
- Open your eyes and see, - Alan whispered into his ear; and slightly bit it with his teeth, impelling Martin to watch his reflection in the mirror, where his hands were doing their sweet job. They were caressing his belly, slowly rising to his pink nipples that seemed to be aroused even if the do not. Alan stroking him more and more, then he touched his lips with his fingers, inducing him to take them into his mouth. Then again he stroked the nipple with his wet finger, making Martin hiss.
However, they were met here for another reason, Alan thought, and decided to stop the childish sports, he painfully grasped the nipple, he panting from the sharp surge of the excitement of his own now. Martin reacted unexpectedly. He somehow forced himself to bend slightly in Alan’s dead grip and kissed his hand. Alan literally howled pushing him off, that was just a little bit too much for him right now. Martin could make him surrender very soon if he’d like, could make him a whining little boy melted down from the sweetest infatuation. But that wasn’t the name of the game.
Alan made him go down on his knees, right in front of himself, forgetting the warmth that fulfilled them both before without a trace. His mind went blank. He made the lad give his head to him, he did that fairly cynically, though his partner’s hands were bound. But Alan didn’t bother, he was just too bored to care, he just floored him, straddled his chest fucking his mouth as if he was an inanimate object to him, his only worries was how to get ultimate pleasure and to go deeper if he could. Martin twitched under him, because of those amorous goings-on hold the big threat of suffocation. His stupid attempts to break away seemed to drive Alan wild.
He turned Martin to face the floor, jerked off his belt from his pants, eager to wreak his desperation upon him. He comprehend that those strange relationships with Martin, and its demonstrated cynicism, it became a real drug for them both. It was something that couldn’t be ignored; it leads them toward, made them move in the right direction. It destroyed them and made them better at the same time, though that probably sounds like an evident paradox. Remove it and there will be an unbearable loss. Just like if you take off one of people’s senses. He never thought he could loose it, but those strange interactions that were started between Martin and Dave filled his heart with fear. This fear was leading him into frenzy tonight, adding to the sexual enjoinment that brings him their usual intercourses an acute exacerbation of disrepair. It could be their last time.
The whistle of the belt cut the air and fell down to the tender skin of thighs and ass. Martin was thankful for that at some point, though somewhere deep inside he knew that it isn’t right. Weirdly, physical pain set him free from this inner mental pain, making him crazy with titanic pressure. His brains took this physical pain like expiation for his own guilt, uncertainty and fear. Liberating him and giving him his consolation.
The blow itself didn’t bring any pain, it just burned, making the skin feel numb, the pain came later, pumping up the body like a sexual stimulation harmonized with the excitement, making the body wanting more. Yes, evidently Martin was thankful that Alan had enough strength for that.
Alan was panting he was just physically tired, though far beyond horny, he was aware that it could be over sooner that it should be. There were some ideas yet that were left undone. He threw his belt aside, pushing something to the floor, he didn’t care much. He turned Martin on his back, making him hiss when his bruised skin touched its surface. He took him with all unceremony that he ever had in him, very abusively letting his partner down with all his objections. Alan was overwhelmed with all that, so he just forgot himself. He dangerously stopped to feel the borderline between what was permissible and what was not. He just wanted Martin to remember him, to feel him more. Martin moaned under his insistent thrusts, biting his lower lip to suppress his moans, those brings another aggression attack on Wilder’s poor brains.
- You fucker, I will make you scream or what?
He swiped him on his face, pilled himself out completely and thrusted himself into his body as to examine if his body would submit of his own will. He cried out, moving hips in hot frenzy, he couldn’t hear another wail of rapture echoing his. He could feel only the atom bomb explosion inside him shattering his innards into elementary particles. Or so it felt.
When it was over, Alan fell down near Martin, hiding his face in his own hands, in time with the return of consciousness he felt the return of the shame. He freed Martin’s hands, tried not to look at his face. He felt some sort of gratitude to Martin that he didn’t say a word, after their so called love making. But he seemed to have the natural born feeling how to act in situations like that. So Martin just stood up silently, didn’t even wince and went into the bathroom thoughtfully rubbing his numb hands. His facial expression was extremely nonchalant.
At the same time, about two blocks from them, Dave was shagging a poor girl with all his might. In a wild frenzy he vented all his accumulated aggression on the compliant and tender female body. He made her cry out his name and wriggled beneath him, like she wanted to break free from his overly ardent love embrace. It seemed that she already came, may be not once. But even the hidden pride of the fact that he`s done that, couldn’t help him to return from his weird trance. So he gave little attention to her wails and scratching, he continued to fuck her hard, fascinated, grasping her legs by the backs of her knees.
When the inner pressure in his balls became unbearable, he let her legs fall down, pulled out his cock, and came onto her belly.
The girl seemed impressed by his solo performance tonight. She was lying beside him, talking nonsense, he was smiling and nodding from time to time. He kept calling her sweetheart and honey, although he couldn’t remember her name at all. She were so touched by his way of his behaving, that he hadn’t turned away and fell asleep right after, so she probably started to think that it was love. Dave was laying there staring at the ceiling, mechanically stroking her hair till she fell asleep. Then he thought he`s seen a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen.
He stood up, put on his underwear, carefully lying on the floor and then went to the kitchen barefooted. He poured himself a glass of whiskey; he stood near the sink, staring at the window behind it.
Black tree branches were waving threateningly, ragged storm-clouds were rushing through the night sky, hiding the pale face of the moon sometimes. The light was on in some lonely window in the house opposite. Someone might be suffering from insomnia just like him. Dave began to sing quietly the song that came into his mind all of a sudden.

Here is a plea
From my heart to you
Nobody knows me
As well as you do
You know how hard it is for me
To shake the disease
That takes hold of my tongue
In situations like these Shake the disease by M.L.Gore

Martin’s voice. The voice. Of Martin. Understand me…Shit. Why didn’t he realize this before? What if…if that was what Martin meant to say to HIM? Dave choked with the whiskey feeling the desire to verify the assumption that he made straight away. He fought himself for several minutes, kept staring at the storm-clouds, but the bad idea won, of course. He rushed to the telephone, hanging on the kitchen wall. His shaking fingers dialed Martins number. First time it was the wrong number, someone cursed him out and warned him that one will call the police if he wouldn’t stop calling at three o’clock in the morning. No one picked up the phone at Martin’s for a long time, but with the seventeenth ring Martin’s landlady correctly answered him that Martin Gore hadn’t been back tonight. Dave growled to himself but was thankful to the old lady for the answer.
He thought twice but then he called Wilder. Nobody picked up the phone for a long time once again but finally he heard Alan’s sleepy voice.
- What the hell? – asked Alan with the same cheerful voice like other people say Hello.
Dave decided.
- Give me Martin. Now. I need him.
Alan looked at Martin’s tired face; he was sleeping by his side.
- What makes you think that he should be here?
- I told you. Give me Martin, - Dave stubbornly repeated.
- He`s sleeping.
- Wake him up.
- Dave you’re nuts.
- And I don’t give a fuck. Where’s Martin?
Alan sighed and touched Martin’s shoulder, bringing the phone closer to his ear.
- It’s Dave, - he explained his actions to Martin, still sleepy, - He`s nuts.
- Dave? – whispered Martin into the receiver.
Suddenly Dave feel that his own throat was paralyzed. He couldn’t say a single word. Martin called his name again, but he couldn’t say anything, oh, boy, and what was he going to say Martin, huh? When he was there, sharing Alan’s bed. Good God, I am just a fool with stupid fantasies. Outsider. Dave threw the receiver and fell down on his knees right next to the wall, feeling teardrops rolling down his cheeks and falling onto his bare chest slowly and heavily, as it was his blood.
Martin jumped up off the bed, his need for sleep was completely forgotten, he dialed Dave’s number but he wasn’t there. He dialed twice but that was useless. He looked at Alan and then looked down, put his clothes on, and headed to the door. he was rubbing his neck in embarrassment. Alan was watching him, holding the blanket over his knees with his both hands.
- Where are you going? - He asked Martin’s back.
Martin shrugged.
- I can`t stay here anymore. I have to go …I’m sorry, Alan.
- Fucking nuts, - Alan hurled just in time when Martin shut the door.


It seemed that he forgot to put his leather bracelet on today. Martin tried to hide the bruised skin of his hand with the other hand. It was cold in the kitchen and there were Elvis on the radio. Martin put his nose into the porcelain coffee cup thoughtfully. He nearly cracked his teeth with it when Dave Gahan appeared in a doorway. He tried to hide his hands under the table, but it was too naive to think that his motion would be left without Dave’s attention. The other man came closer:
- So you like pain… - Dave grinned.
Martin raised his eyes to him, flared up, but said nothing.
- And I don't, - Dave added, his face and body were radiating pure aggression.
- What do you want? - Martin crossed his hands on a chest and stood up; feeling that air between them was filled with electricity again.
- Uh no, nothing actually, - … Dave, - What game are you playing?
- Playing? Me? - Martin asked, moving away from a table and stepping towards.
- It's impossible to talk to you, - Dave stepped back.
- Then you better don’t, - Martin pulled down his hands slowly, - for I didn't ask for.
- Oh, I’m sure you didn't - Dave grinned - everything is so simple and facile in your world, Marty, you didn't ask, then why did all this happen?
- That is a very interesting question, Dave - Martin' eyes narrowed, - and what exactly had happened?
Dave came closer and took him by the collar:
- Who could believe that… - he said - Who could ever believe that if I fucked you then everything would be much easier. Huh…Alan’s sense of humor is so wicked, as I can see… so that's where I fell short? Handcuffs? I should fasten you to the radiator, indeed.
Martin hit his face. Dave paid him back, and soon, both grappled they fell on the floor. After several minutes Dave managed to throw back his opponent, throw him to the fridge. He pulled his legs and sat quickly, expecting a new attack or ready for the next rush. But Martin was sitting near, rubbing his forehead and breathing heavily. He looked at Dave point-blank.
- Pain - suddenly he said very calmly as if they were having a gentlemen’s dialogue over a cup of tea, as if they weren't thrashing each other a minute ago, intending to kill or to maim one another. - I'm always feeling this pain. Night and day, drunk and sober, and I don't like it, Dave. I do not like the pain too, Dave. I can't bear this. I just can't stand this emotional violence anymore. I can't. It's better for me to get in the face than to put up with it.
- Mart…
- I haven't finished yet. You're a nice person, Dave. I believe that you’re sure you're doing alright.
- I'm not…
- Oh, please…be quiet, - Mart frowned, as if the sound of Dave's voice was paining him physically and closed up his ears, - shut up, Dave or I will never say that. When he determined to raise his head and to look at Dave, the other was looking at him point-blank.
- The reason is you, - Martin said and grinned when he saw Dave frowned - but at the same time by some weird paradox, that’s not your fault. But you are hurting me. Just by the fact that you exist. When you're near and when you're away. But when you're away it becomes bearable at least. Let me go, Dave. This is the last time…damn, it seems to me that it was said before…
Dave was just sitting and looking at him. The meaning of Martin's words was reaching him very slowly as if it was going through the wadding. The idea of what was getting into his head seemed to him too incredible to believe.
It doesn’t matter who of them was talking the last, but the fact that they were talking about the same thing was there. Dave had a lump in his throat again; he rubbed his face trying to catch his breath from what had happened.
- You fucking cunts! You both can`t be left alone even for a second, huh? – Furious Fletch rushed into the kitchen. Alan was there as well. He grinned but his face was as dark as the night.
Dave couldn’t understand what to do next. But suddenly he felt that his fear became bigger and bigger. Before it was only desperation that’s led him forward and the feeling that it just couldn’t be worse. He was absolutely sure that he has nothing to loose. Martin’s words made him think that now he HAS something. Dave was only sure that they needed to talk as soon as it possible. But the Talk was the thing that he feared most of all, considering the fact how hard it was for them to understand each other even with simple things. He made an effort to follow Martin on his way home, but … Fletch caught him by the hand and said that he’d call the police if he’d do that. And that Dave would be strictly guarded by them. Alan told that he would agree with Fletch. Dave was feeling rage burning inside of him because of that, he would definitely kick Alan’s ass.
Fletch warned him that if he wouldn’t stop it right now, he will sleep next to him tonight. Alan told him that probably they would need to visit a baby store to buy a soother. Dave told, that if Alan asked him so nicely he can give him something to suck for sure, and finally it was Alan who kicked his ass for that.

London’s shows were good. Honestly they didn’t expect such huge success.
A Journalist girl from a teen magazine interviewed them. Dave shined like a true star. He talked all possible bullshit with a phenomenal speed of two hundred words for a minute; it seemed that girl understood only one word out of five. Alan commented, occasionally, demonstrating his upper-class taste and origin. Martin leaned to Fletch`s shoulder, so frightened and tender, he seemed to be so embarrassed. The Journalist girl tried to make him say only one word but he only grinned sheepishly and his face was turning from red to pale.
- Why is it that your friend is so shy and quiet? – She asked waving her heavy painted lashes at Martin.
- It’s just an illusion, - grinned Alan, - Still water runs deep.
They all snickered, even Martin, still eyes down.
- Decided to get a shag, calling for the mercy in her? – whispered Alan right into Martin’s ear.
Martin laughed out loud and sounded very optimistic at that matter.
Miller has done a big after party, there were a lot of wine that was mixed with whiskey and beer.
They were all very tired, and Dave felt that his head was spinning. Fletch and Miller argued and gesticulated theatrically. One of their fans slept somewhere in the dark corner of the room, another two fans, girls were making eyes on David, he checked them but then decided that he`s not that drunk yet. He took a beer can and climbed onto the sofa with his boots. Alan was sitting on the top of sofa’s back, reminding him of a mountain eagle.
- How are you? – asked Dave.
Alan shrugged his shoulders.
- Where’s our girl?
- They are gone.
- They? – Dave set near Alan and took a sip of his beer.
- I’m gonna tell you the secret, - Alan leaned to his ear, - you know, today is the day when our Maestro finally found himself.
- Fuck me, - Dave nodded gloomily.
- He knows by now he`s a fetishist. And he hardly will survive this night, because of the girl’s leather mini skirt. It is something that makes him crazy with longing and desire. He couldn’t say exactly whereas it is the girl or if it is the leather skirt. But it doesn’t matter. Well, and she… she just couldn’t resist him. You know, how it happens usually, don’t you? – Alan put his hand on Dave’s shoulder, moving his finger tenderly up and down his neck, obviously mocking Martin - Oh, your skin is so smooth, so soft… what is it on...oh, your necklace. I am sorry I have terrible eyesight. Can I touch?
Dave laughed but shrugged. The touch sent shivers down his spine.
- Should I wear leather mini skirt then? – He said.
Alan hemmed and took away his hand. His features became aquiline again.
- Useless, David. God Moves in Mysterious Ways. – Alan finished his beer, - Listen. Forget about it, it would be better for you just to forget about it. Forget him. He`s not for you. Admit it, you are too honest and too open you are just too human for him. He doesn’t understand you. And he never will. And you will never understand him. You will rip your heart apart, you will crash your head, and you will break your life and that’ll be for sure. He`s too tough. There are lots of nice people around you, they can be more thankful for your feelings because…just because they need them more then he needs.
Although Alan’s words felt so right, and frankly, they reminded him of his own occasional thoughts, but he looked at him, and the way he did was damn weird.

It was Miller actually. He told them to go to Berlin to make the next record. They discussed it again and again when they were at Fletch`s house.
- Could someone tell me clearly why the hell? – Fletch scratched his head – Like we forgot something in this shit hole.
Dave walked up and down and all around and the room. He was looking at Martin, and from time to time, at Andy. They were sitting so close to each other but there was absolutely no sign that they were aware of that fact. Fletch was in fashionable deadly green tight in the ankles trousers, Martin was wearing a baggy t-shirt, his hair was tousled, he was staring at the wall and thoughtfully biting off the cracked up black nail polish from his index finger. Virtually that was the only thing that was left from the journalist girl in his life. His thoughts seem to be so far away from here, maybe in Berlin, maybe further.
- Yokel, - Alan grinned, he was chewing Andy’s sandwich, - Berlin is Berlin.
- Extraordinary, - Andy snickered, - Berlin is Berlin. Who would ever think? Berlin is Berlin.
Dave stood at the window and stared at the rain, falling down like the waterfall.
- Berlin is legendary place for every musician, Fletch, - Berlin for the musician it’s like Mecca for a Muslim or Jerusalem for a Christian. Berlin is the city of the Legends. The Cradle of Modern Music. You see, even David Bowie did his record there….can`t you understand. Bowie himself.
- Iggy too, - suddenly Martin opened his mouth, - Idiot.
- Huh? – Dave frowned.
- It’s the album title. The Idiot, - explained Martin, his look was incredibly abashed, and he began to bite his nail again.
- Which one? – Dave was puzzled, he turned to face him.
- One, they recorded together, - said Martin and then began to sing:

Well the day begins
You don't want to live
'Cause you can't believe
In the one you're with

Dave recognized the song. He slowly came closer and settled himself down near Martin onto the sofa’s elbow-rest, joining in singing with him, shaking his head from side to side in tact with the music rhythm, thought he almost fell from the sofa with that motion so he had to take a strong hold of the sofa’s back with his hand. He was aware that Martin will break away from him, but nothing’s happened.

'Cause you know her tricks
And you know her past
When she makes a face
You just have to laugh
And you feel like such a know-it-all
When you only want just a tiny girl
And you hope she'll sing

The impression was, as if they both were spellbound by the melodic junction of their voices. Their voices were harmonizing and diverging apart from each other in the air then harmonizing again. Deeply sensual velvet of one’s voice and bewitchingly piercing softness of another. They seemed to have nothing in common but although had the ability to sound together as if voices belonged to only person. Martin put his arm on his thigh and Dave almost jumped with the surprise.

So you turn around
Toward the tiny girls
Who have got no tricks
Who have got no past
Yea that's what you think
And you hope she'll sing
But she sings of greed
Like a young banshee
And she wants for this
And she wants for that
What did you think…* Tiny Girls (Bowie/Pop)

The telephone ring broke the silence suddenly, made them return from the trance they were into because of the music, and Alan almost choked with his meal. Fletch talked for a big amount of time, (the) other three just watched him in silence.
- Someone claiming his right for the last sandwich? – asked Alan, just in case, though he weren’t longing for the answer.

It seemed that summer finally decided to visit Basildon. The skies became clearer. The weather was warm. Martin set on the couch, wearing shorts and t-shirt, playing something in country style, giving all his attention only for the strings of his new guitar. Dave walked around him, several times, deciding if to come closer or not.
He squatted down before Martin, clutched one hand with another. He was staring at his fingers on the guitar strings. Probably he could see neither fingers nor strings. He wrinkled his forehead and bit his lips giving out the unconceivable work of his own mind.
- Mind if I disturb you? - He whispered.
- Of course, not, - Martin shook his head and returned to the process.
Dave sat near him, inspired by his so called cordial welcome, touching Martin’s leg by his hip and smelling his perfume. His was drowning and his thoughts lost their way and went astray.
- Mart, I was thinking a lot, you know…- finally Dave forced himself to start.
Martin turned his head and looked at him, but still he continued to play.
- Fuck it, - Dave said - I don't know how to do that. How to say it properly. How it is possible to say or how it is needed to be said. All in all, I don't know how will I manage to reach your ears at once, for sure quickly and completely, because I've been inventing hundreds of versions to start this talk, basically even thousands of them, because I had fucking plenty of time during this fortnight and I had nothing to do…
Martin was looking at him and waiting.
- I was thinking about apologies, but starting from our situation, it is silly, to be candid. I tried to say I didn't want to, - Dave laughed nervously - actually, I did want. And I do. But not exactly that, and not exactly that way. Something turned in my head inside out, because it isn't over. I don't know what to say, like I didn't mean it…well I don't know, perhaps you hold me like an idiot, as I am, and I don't want to intensify your impression in no circumstances. I can't talk even about the simplest things, generally. I should write a book - How to say hello and to get your ass kicked.
Martin grinned, his eyes lighted with an interest and he stopped playing.
- So… - Dave said. The silence in the studio embarrassed him suddenly.
- So? - Martin asked.
Dave was looking at him, and he was looking at Dave, without any blinking. Dave felt that with every second of silence, quiet imposed him, burying him harder and harder, he felt that his tongue wasn't obeying him anymore, and he admitted with regret, that if it'll go this way, the best and the biggest part of his speech won't be said.
- Could you…uh…rape me… or something?
Martin dumped the guitar on his leg.
- Fuck…
Dave fell on his knees, he realized that the time is up, he snatched the guitar from Martin's hands, throwing it away and stood between his hips, holding them with his both hands.
- Mart I won't bear if you pretend that nothing happened again. Please, understand me, that all I'm saying now is not a scheme or fine words. I can't stand it anymore. It’s just-a… I will burst my veins if you feign that I don't exist. I am here. And I exist. And don't you say that’s childish. I want to attract your attention. Oh, yes I do. And there are things that I can’t endure anymore. Do something with me. Anything. You understand me? Do you? - Dave's voice rose - look at me, talk to me, shout at me, fuck me, don't push me aside as if I were leprous, touch me, damn you, kick me… I need to feel that you're near, I need to feel you. I need it. Need it, need it. Let it be hate, not love, but not indifference. I want to feel that it's not all the same for you. This is like a drug, I need it, I hate it, I’m sick with that I have to tell you this now, I’m sick with what I do, I’m sick with what I’ve done, but there's nothing to be done with me, I need it.
He cut off his monologue, Martin wasn't looking at him, he lowered his gaze, he was panting. Dave sat and felt that tears were coming to his eyes again. He condemnably looked at Martin's tanned knee.
- I'm not pressing, - he was exhausted - I'm begging.
Dave bent his head and touched naked knee with his lips, completely forgetting what he was about to say. He didn’t understand what happened next. Immense power impact threw him off, pushed him to the floor, almost dislocated his shoulder with all that and pressed him down to the carpet.

Chapter 3

Meanwhile, their working day came to an end. Anton Corbijn was floating around them with his camera. He was making them stand up, then sit down, then walk all around the shooting place. They were squabbling from time to time. Martin was cursing quietly to himself, although he wouldn’t go into details what did he mean, as usual. Sometimes they were snickering whole-heartedly just like when they were young, over their jokes, though someone would find their jokes rather dull. Even sir Andrew had to change his usual facial expression into something more human friendly.
They say Good bye to each other, standing near their cars, Martin tapped Dave’s back, he meant to say something, but then changed his mind, just smiled and went away. They headed somewhere to have a drink or two with his permanent boon companion Fletch. For some reason Dave just couldn’t go.
He returned to his hotel room, took a shower, hot water washed away his daily tiredness. He stretched himself on the bed with pure delight. His thoughts began to run in their own directions. Strange, but today’s shooting led him to remember a lot of things, he thought he forgot completely. He was lying here, on his bed, letting his thoughts flow freely. Mental pictures of the past rose in his mind, and they were clear and bright, clearer and brighter then ever before, he shrugged, once it appeared to him as he can see it real.


Martin squeezed his shoulder, as if checking the solidity of his bones. Dave didn't expect such a force from him. Martin was lying on top of him now but still it wasn't clear for them both, what was going on. Was it a question of hate or a question of lust? Martin was lying on him without any moving, it seemed he was waiting for something. Dave instantly relaxed as if someone logged off the battery from him; he just weakened in Martin’s steel embrace, threw back his head and closed his eyes. An inconceivable tranquility filled him from inside. And why should he bother? Everything has been said, everything he ever need to do or didn't need to do at all, however has been done. There was so much that has been said and done, it was obvious that there’s no turning back. He didn't even care to open his eyes, to see Martin's face; he was just drowning in the moment. He grew deaf, the Universe of Silence was beckoning him now, words became useless, motions became useless, fear and aggression turned to fiction, morality and friendship and their damn relationships became senseless. Dave felt like he was a shiver in a wild mountain river, carried away, thrown to the rocky banks, then dragged with the flow right into the furious whirlpool, and thrown back on a bank again. The only thing that made sense was the animal closeness of their bodies. Skin on skin, flesh on flesh. Simple possibility to feel his breath, his heartbeat, his every barely perceptible movement.
Time was changing its course, turning into Eternity. Burning pain was releasing his shoulder slowly. He didn't need to ask Martin if he can feel it all. Dave was afraid to move, he was afraid to break this sensation that was born now, to destroy the Universal gravity combining them. Oh god, no…that’s bullshit… it always existed, this joining, it has just burst now, ripped out from the cold Space, like a birth of a Supernova, burning with the solar wind, and filling them with scorching lava.
Dave understood what was going on only when their lips interflowed into a furious kiss. Oh, no, there wasn't any tenderness or love, only craving of closeness, discharging of the unbearable torture of mutual attraction, the rapture of them two becoming one. Beckoning and terrifying feeling, at the edge of pleasure and pain, at the edge of life and death.
He wasn’t sure, if he heard Martin’s moaning with this kiss, wasn’t sure if it was his own moan too. They lips parted finally and Dave recalled that actually he needs to breathe sometimes.
- Oh, God, - whispered Martin. Dave dared to open his eyes, he was smiling and didn’t want to talk at all. Dave grabbed Martin at the back of his head, drawing him closer; he couldn’t let their lips to be apart for so long. Martin didn’t even try to resist.
This time their kiss was much more sensual and tender. They were touching each other, intoxicated by this tenderness, slowly going deeper into the trance. They were drowning in this infatuation and hoping that it will never end. Martin lifted him up with his hand, making his access to Dave’s lips more convenient. Dave moaned once again, it was hell enjoying being in Martin’s mercy, that’s for sure. The man who was so precious to him had a power over his body and that was felt just right. Martin was very serious when he was touching his lips with short kisses, insistent and keen, he gazed at his mouth, plump and sensual, it seemed like he didn’t see the whole Dave in his field of vision were only Dave’s lips and his own sudden whim to kiss them. It was so cynical and so possessive; it was turning Dave on beyond belief.
Dave was moving underneath now, twitching and fidgeting, in desperate need to intensify their contact, though it felt wrong to intercept Martin’s initiative now. On the other hand this long-awaited tenderness was turning into torture to his yearning body. Dave arched his back, rubbing his hips of Martin’s. His dick was fucking demanding attention. Over-kissed lips became numb, but Martin didn’t intend to set them free at all.
Martin made Dave throw back his head, unclenching his jaws with his mouth, sorry, there was no way to express his kiss any better, and then he went inside. Martin was stroking his body with slow warm motions going down and down. They didn’t talk about the rules, but Dave was sure that he should not make Martin touch him the way he wanted most, though he bloody wanted it. He just squeezed his hand, sinking his nails into his palm, to divert his mind from this fire. He should keep himself under control. He shouldn’t let himself hold Martin’s body, so fragile and so strong at the same time.
He was trembling now, crying and biting Martin’s lip, though he didn’t notice that, when Martin touched him there. He was caressing him more and more emphatically. Stroking and stroking and licking his neck. Dave bit his hand with his teeth, not to cry out his rapture too loud. It was becoming unbearable.
- Take me, - he whispered, fairly he didn’t get his own this idea completely when he asked, - Mart, Ma-a-a-art, - he groaned feeling almost erotic sensation calling out his name, - Mart. Martin. Mart…
- Dave?
- Take me, Mart…oh, fuck…
He was embarrassed now, grinning over his own weakness, but Martin failed to see any humor in this situation.
- Mart…I can`t…when you look at me like that…stop it or I’ll go crazy completely, - whispered Dave.
- I think….I probably… love you, - Martin was so very serious.
- Holy shit, Mart, I …
Martin didn’t let him finish.
- I don’t want to hurt you.
Dave exhaled; he remembered what they were talking about here. He tried not to laugh on the virtual absurdness of this situation.
- Look, Mart, - he grinned, - It would be not the first time, and not the last, God only knows how are you hurting me, so If I’d be you, I wouldn’t bother that much.
Dave laughed and Martin didn’t move a muscle. But his eyes flashed like a sun beam on a steel blade. He didn’t say a word. He just did it. He took him. With maddening mechanical unyieldingness, with stubborn steel insistence, he didn’t show Dave any impatience or any doubts and you’d better forget compassion at all. He did it with pure almost surgical precision, watching closely for Dave’s reaction, a little bit outside of the process. Though it was better like this, because Dave believed that otherwise he couldn’t do with him anything at all, because his body violently resisted his mate’s invasion, and even his overexcited mind couldn’t help it. Because Martin was right, IT fucking hurts. Dave nearly screamed, arching his back, but it was useless. His body was glistening with his sweat. Martin screwed up his eyes; it wasn’t any easier to him either. He kissed Dave’s knee, as if to thank him that he allowed him to do that. And then…he began to do what he should do.
Pain was disappearing now slowly, melting inside Dave’s body. It became bearable at first, then more customary, then sweeter and more and more desired. Little by little he started to understand why people are so eager to do it. Excitement overwhelmed him with renewed strength, when he came to comprehension exactly WHAT has been done to him. And WHO was doing all that. He realized all weirdness and shamefulness, even humiliation of his pose now. He was ling on his back and allowing Martin to hold his thighs. But this thought has turned him on even more then ever possible. He stroked Martin’s hands with his own because he felt he should thank him for all this somehow. Martin looked at him, lifted his face up, he was lost in ineffable pleasure, and it made Dave groan contentedly. He moved towards, he was moved by his growing need, and all his pleasure now was the things that Martin did for him. He was loosing his control, he was loosing his sense of reality, he almost lost his senses when Martin helped him to cross the pleasure borderline that allowed man to cross.

Dave screamed and woke up. He jumped off the bed, driven with the weird feeling that he should dash out from the hotel room, and rush ahead whenever Martin could be. He even grabbed the door-knob. Suddenly he came back to his senses. What exactly is he going to tell Martin? Now I remember? Now I fucking remember how it was the first time? He wouldn’t need to see Martin to picture his expression if he’d tell him all this. Needless to say that Dave himself would look wicked in hotel corridors at three o’clock wearing only his underwear and searching for the Martin’s door. Dave smiled bitterly to himself and leaned to the door with his back.
Oddly, he felt that he had slept enough. He decided to call his wife just to talk but then he decided that there is a small difference between local time and New-York’s, so she’s probably deep sleeping. He went into the bathroom, looked in the mirror and scratched his chin, painfully deciding whereas to shave right now or in the morning. Then he shaved thoughtfully. He cut himself. Hissed, splashing his face with an aftershave, stuck a plaster to his cheek, put on the bathrobe and felt that he did his duty for today.
He went to the door again and froze. Suddenly he felt his heart thundering painfully in his temples. He didn’t have a clue what happened, he knew it might be insanity once he decided that Martin is standing outside his door. He knew it couldn’t be true. May be it was just his memories joking with him that bad. But he was sure that Martin’s there. He felt that he was suffocating here in this room, in spite of the turned on full power, air-conditioner. He grabbed the door-knob once again, pushed it and darted out into the corridor.
It is clear, that there was nobody there. But the delusion was so strong, Dave stood there for several minutes, he was listening. It couldn’t be just an illusion, he thought. It happened before. Well he could feel what happened to Martin even if he hasn’t been near, and Martin told him once that he can feel it either. He read it somewhere that it’s usually happening with twins. One of them always feels the other even if they are thousands of miles apart. This feeling was helping him to withstand those six months of silence between them. His arrogance wouldn’t let him call first, and he probably would go crazy with anxiety.
The corridor was quiet. It couldn’t just appear in his dream. He thought he could smell barely sensible perfume in the air. Not the perfume itself but how he could sense it when Martin was wearing it. This damn perfume on his skin, this velvet scent, piercing him down to his balls, and making him the real zombie for the rest of the day.
- Mart – he whispered to himself. It seems that it was a delusion actually. Dave was back in his room. He lit up a cigarette and went to the balcony.
The night was warm and dark. The street near the hotel was illuminated with a soft light of street lamps. Those street lamps were made in what meant to be Old European style, and there was a park near. It was quiet, if you could ignore chirring cicadas, forecasting that it will be a lot warmer day tomorrow. However, when Dave became American, he got interested in humidity a lot more then in temperature. Humidity was low so he could breathe and it felt right. Not the way like in New York City in the summer.
A light breeze rustled leaves and tousled his hair. This night reminded him of the other night.


They ran away from the after party near dawn, they were very excited about their obvious success. Martin rushed into the balcony, undoing the buttons of his shirt and joyfully yelling, probably his intention was to wake up Dave’s neighbors to share his happiness.
- WATER! I need water – he cried to David.
Dave viciously quirked his eyebrow and took off his checkered jacket, he appeared on the balcony, holding the bottle and two glasses.
- No wa-a-a-ater, sorry. Champaign’s fine?
- Sure – Martin said.
Dave opened the bottle with a terrible crash, splashing them both with Champaign, they laughed, and Dave’s neighbor from the apartment above finally decided to tell them something not so polite.
- Hush! – Dave touched his lips with his index finger, - Silence.
They clinked glasses. They stood there, together, leaning their elbows to the hand-rail of the balcony. Dave’s house seemed to be somewhere at the back of beyond. So they can`t see their town at all, but there was a big park converted into a forest.
- Nice view, - Martin said.
- The best view here will be at dawn, - Dave said. His shoulder was resting onto Martin’s shoulder. He was so happy, he thought, he could die right now and won’t be sorry. Martin finished his Champaign.
- If it was an offer – then I’d say yes, - then added, - but you will make a coffee, buddy.
- You are so pragmatic, Mart, where’s your damn romanticism?
- Sorry? Where’s…what? – Martin was playing the fool.
Dave suddenly kissed him near his earlobe. Martin shaved off his foam of hair from his temples; this way his hairdo became very punk-like. It made his perked ears look too unbearably touchy.
- It’s nothing,… but I’m sure you’ll love it, - Dave smirked, turned to Martin, bringing him closer, his eyes was sliding up and down from Martin’s eyes to his lips and vice versa, - It’s time to make amends.
- Oh, no… - Martin said. He licked his lips.
- Oh, yeah… - answered Dave.
He continued to press on Martin, he looked at him steadily, making Martin step back. He caught his shirt by the collar, bringing Martin closer more.
- Scared? – He whispered so hot near Martin’s mouth.
- Mm-m-m…., oh, yeah… - answered Martin.
- Oh, no, - Dave moaned.
Dave pressed him to the balcony wall, pushing his hips into Martin’s, making him feel his arousal and noted that his friend was aroused too. They both sighed. Dave was stroking Martin’s body under his shirt. Dave smelled the scent of his skin, feeling that he`s loosing his mind quite literally. He laid his head between Martin’s neck and shoulder, just breathing this scent; he now was confident that even if nothing would happen he found the ultimate reason to come. It was so fucking weird, but it seemed that he got used to it.
However, to see Martin in his room, in his bed, naked – that was too unreal and Dave had to pinch himself by the hand to see that it wasn’t just a dream. Martin looked down; he seemed to be a little bit embarrassed. Embarrassed and aroused at the same time and this junction were giving his charm a license to kill. Dave jumped onto the bed, sinking his lips into Martin’s cool skin still wet from the shower. He clutched the guy’s head with both hands managing him to look into his eyes. Deep dark Dave’s eyes were shining so bright in the room’s half light, they can blind. Martin wanted to ask him about it but his lips motion provoked Dave, and he could just moan right into his mouth, making Dave’s kisses became harder and more aggressive. Martin answered to his kisses, and this seemed just right for now.
Dave was stroking his hands, kissing his shoulders, following his hands with his mouth, and inversely, following his mouth with his hands. He sank his teeth into Martin’s neck, sliding his hand down to caress his dick. Martin shrugged under him.
- Hush, little one, - he slid with his mouth to his hand, moving down from Martin’s navel and down, - Oh, no…, - his fingers closed around Martin’s dick, he touched it with his lips, - not little…at all, - he kissed the very tip, - that was good that I didn’t look at him…that time…you know… I’d died for sure.
They happily laughed. But Dave wasn’t in the mood to give Martin a big break, he began to suck him. Loss of attention for his own manhood became too much for him and he took him into his hand started to jerk it off in time with his manipulations with Martin’s. Thus it brings some sort of completeness to his job. His caresses became greedier, he couldn’t stop them now and he thought that the meaning of his existence now was concentrating at the point where his mouth came in contact with velvet tenderness of Martin’s flesh. The tiniest part of his mind that still remembered who he was, insisted that it shouldn’t be like that, that his mouth was the erogenous zone that couldn’t make him come just from this blowjob, but his impudent trembling cock said that it fucking could. He moved away just in time to not choke on Martin’s sperm, moaned as he felt that his own sperm spattered his sheets.
He didn’t expect that Martin would turn him on his back, and his mouth would be on him. Dave tried to say that he didn’t need it anymore, but then he felt that probably he was wrong with that matter. Movements of his hot wet tongue brought life to his softened dick a lot faster than he could predict. He warned Martin that it is a risk for him to continue his doings just like that, but Martin told him that his dick hardly would be the thing that he’d be frightened of.
Dave howled and pushed him off, bringing Martin to his hands and knees right in front of him. He announced that his romanticism is over now, Martin moved towards, and answered that it is fucking right time. Dave didn’t say a word, just took him right away. He took him as he wanted it. He took him as he loved it. He felt that that was what Martin needed right now with his every move. When later he remembered all their encounters he was always amazed that he never needed to think how to do something or what exactly he had to do. He just did what his overexcited mind told him to do, but surprisingly THAT was exactly what they both needed most.
- Ah-h….I’m fucking done, - said Dave falling down across his bed, he tried to recover his breath. The sky turns grey and it’ll soon be dawn. Martin smoked, pulling the blanket higher to his chest, he didn’t say a word. Dave’s idea about the after-fucking talk obviously didn’t impress him much.
- C’mon, Martin…It was just sex. - Dave said, he wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. He laughed softly to himself because of that unbelievable avalanche of uncontrollable erotic sensations that was filling him now from common things he wasn’t aware of. He was sure that those things are absolutely innocent, but in fact a light kiss or a simple touch detonated neurons inside his central neurotic system. Virtually Martin was going to say something, but changed his mind.
- Friendship….I think, - said David. Martin’s face was a little bit upset, or may be just appeared upset; Dave never could read it right.
- I wouldn’t call us….friends, - Martin said. His voice suddenly showed some steel.
Dave was offended, he poutted his lips, but then decided that Martin is right.
- Well….you know…it’s kind-a….we are men both, - he insisted, - you know?
- Oh, stop Dave, please shut up, - Martin clenched his teeth, - for I fucking hate it…
- Whassup? – Dave asked - Something’s wrong? – He grinned – There was so many of them, who were telling you this shit? Huh? Right?
Martin killed a cigarette in the ashtray with visible detestation.
- Good night, David, - icily he said and turned off the light.
Dave bumped a pillow with his head and crossed his hands on his bare chest. He was staring at the ceiling but he just couldn’t stay silent anymore.
- Listen, Mart. Wasn’t THAT why Vince left?
Dave moved closer to Martin’s back and embraced him.
- What is THAT? - mumbled Martin right into his pillow, he didn’t bother to turn to Dave.
- It is hard to explain, - Dave thoughtfully touched Martin’s nipple, - THAT is that, - he clutched it with his fingers, - because of THAT.
- There was nothing between me and Vince, - said Martin pushing Dave’s hand off.
- What about Sir Andrew? – Dave licked his two fingers and placed them back where they’ve been before. Martin hissed from their wet insistent touch.
- Sir Andrew neither. Dave keep your hands off me, I hate it when somebody is touching me.
- Aye…I noticed. And when exactly it had been started? – Dave snickered and climbed up into the top of Martin, lying on him like guy was a mattress, - Be still. Do not move Martin. Because when you resist me it fucking turns me fucking on. You know, when you do, I become unhealthy aroused I’m even scared of myself. So, there was nothing. I understood, I’m not a fool. There was nothing. Nothing. There was. And with Alan too. Hey I always wondered how it was between you and Alan, huh? Listen, especially that time with handcuffs? He bound you and fucked you senseless, m-m-m? Handcuffs are cool? I’d like to see it, yeah…, heh-heh-heh. Oh, my, who could ever imagine, our sweet-charming-diplomat-good-fellow-Alan would be a sadist. Huh…I knew that, I fucking knew that.
- Dave, Get off me. Be gone. – Martin tried to push him aside, virtually, Dave’s words infuriated him, but his movements produced another result.
Dave held him tighter now.
- I can`t, it’s too late, - in time when Dave moved a blanket off Martin, he was completely hard, as if nothing had happened yet today, - Sorry, Martin, too late. He`s a good shag, isn’t he?
Dave pushed Martins hips apart, clutched his own cock and stroked Martin in the area where he`s probably gonna be soon. Then up and down his scrotum, Martin twitched again but this time, questionably to meet Dave’s movements.
- Dave I don’t want to, - he said, - Well, he`s ok.
- Oh….yeah…I can feel it, - Dave grinned, making Martin smile with his husky voice, - What do you mean he`s ok? Was he shagging you good? Wholly Sa-tis-fac-to-ry?
He continued to push himself inside his mate, squeezing his hips with both hands, he wouldn’t let it to be so fast by Martin’s will. But this pace was too hard to bear.
- Yeah, right, - Martin breathed out, - satisfactory.
- Feel me.
- Dave…
- Listen to me, - he whispered through he clenched teeth, - Is Alan’s big? Huh? Bigger then mine?
- Fuck you, - pretty emotionally said Martin.
- Oh yeah sure….no, tell me, mine’s bigger?
- Like…you…have…no…idea, - forced to pause in time with the quickening rhythm of Dave’s motions inside him, said Martin.
- Tell me, - said Dave with ragged breath, - Which one you like better? His or Mine?
- Yours…
- One more time.
- Yours.
- More, Martin….more…holy God, fucking…more.


Berlin’s studio was bigger, probably more official and more hostile, it would be better to say much more creative. Berlin amazed them with it’s own weird spirit, on the verge of freedom and dictatorship, ingrown ill health, bleeding break up, right in the middle of the city. The city that was one before, but was sliced alive, in two halves, that now learned how to survive and how to feel some kinky masochistic enjoinment from its existence.
Daniel laughed that right here, their natural born English Angst mixed with Underground Decadence of the fatally ill city and were disciplined by the Phantom of Totalitarianism. It was some black celebration from his point of view. So it was. The Black Celebration. Daniel asked Alan about the last song.
- What did Martin say?
- He said, literally as follows, - Alan bit his little finger thoughtfully, - He thinks he probably likes it.
- Arsenal Syndrome? – Daniel snickered.
- What is «Arsenal Syndrome»?
- Once upon a time, you weren’t with us yet, we discussed football teams. Martin said that he thinks that he`s probably a fan of Arsenal. I’ve asked him, Mart, what do you mean «probably»? He told me that actually he doesn’t like Arsenal much, but he had to go to their matches every Saturday with his friend’s father, for five years. He believed that it wasn’t right to tell him that he doesn’t like Arsenal at all, that’s why he just continued to go and in time, somehow he get used to them.
Alan smirked.
- The friend is Fletch?
- No idea, - Miller told, - All in all, now we’ve got our expression «Arsenal Syndrome».
- Motherfucker…Fletch is the only one who can communicate with him and understand what he could mean. Although Fletch is a big motherfucker also.
- Remember, Alan, Fletch`s priceless, - Miller lifted up his index finger, - Try to imagine, what Martin would do in the studio if not making Andy crazy, by hiding his glasses. Otherwise he wouldn’t go into the studio at all.
- Don’t tell me…. – Alan said, - sometimes I feel myself in the lunatic asylum. Especially, when Dave joined them in their childish learning games for the age of three and under.
Alan frowned, because Martin and Dave came into the studio.
- Hey, - said Martin. Dave kept mum; he just set down on the couch near Martin, shoulder to shoulder, he looked like he was somewhere outside this room. Alan hid his smirk with his hand and turned away from him. At this moment Andy opened the door and came in, he was anxious.
- Hum…has anybody seen my glasses?
Alan handed him the eyeglass case. Martin and Dave laughed.
- You forgot it, Andy.
- I need your attention, gentlemen, - finally said Daniel, - for I have you here to celebrate something.
He told them that he was in national top-40, although forties but anyway. Alan and Andy opened the bottle of Champaign.
- Fellas, I just want to congratulate you for that. I never promised you a lot of money, actually I even never promised you to sign a contract, but it is a big deal, a break through. For your success! Cheers!
They drank, suddenly Martin asked:
- Do we really have to give up our day jobs for that?


In spite of Martin’s skepticism, it seemed worth it. New single moved it’s way up to the top ten, fans watching for them near the studio entries, they were sitting near the doors and when guys went out they kept asking them, what it was? Is there a new single or new album?
Christine, Martin’s friend from his childhood, black haired German girl was introduced to them as his official girlfriend. Dave shrugged his shoulders; she seemed mannish for him and not good-looking at all. But he believed that her stolidity and discipline would be just for Martin’s own good. They were communicating on the strange mixture of English and German. It looked like Martin could speak German pretty well, but in some nuances of personal relationships he was weak even in his native language, let alone German. Alan usually called it the Programming Error in Understanding Other People’s Feelings in Martin’s brains firmware. So Christine had to learn English far better.
Everything seemed to be ok. The band realized too late, the price was Martin with his new image. Sick Berlin atmosphere, the feeling of the glam-rock legends closeness penetrated his receptive mind. Very soon they just couldn’t recognize him anymore. Good boy in glasses that they knew before was gone, and he decided to be someone else. He told them that he feels sick from social and gender stereotypes, and men’s clothes can`t express his Weltanschauung completely. Soon the band knew Christine’s extreme wardrobe very well. The band told Martin.
- Martin, that’s enough… maybe you better fucking stop it?
But Martin didn’t give a shit.
It was probably a paradox, but as he changed his image to almost transvestite’s he became an object of the girls’ desire. Every guy from the band attracted a lot of attention of the opposite sex so far. But what was going on around Martin was real insanity. The girls of sixteen followed him around. They tried to look like him, to talk like him, to walk like and to act like him. They went crazy about him. They wrote him tons of love letters, they were hanging around him, they were fighting with each other because of him and they literally jumped out of their clothes at the sight of him.
They tried to attract his attention with suicidal attempts. They played with him like he was a doll, but they wanted him like a man. At the same time they expected him to comprehend them as teenage girl their coeval, would.
He never was popular at school. He never was self confident at that point. He doubted that girls at school even knew that he existed. His communications started and ended up at Andy’s doors. Consequently, he almost went crazy with happiness from the amount of chicks’ attention. Dave was mad and jealous, but he understood it pretty well and he tried to get used to it. Alan tried to help him. Dave was impressed of his ethics, though deep inside him he was aware that Alan was just celebrating his malicious joy that Martin acted with Dave exactly the same way as with him before.
It was hard to tell why exactly he was so mad at Martin. That wasn’t the girls’ fault that’s for sure. No that was another reason. The reason was a more complicated one. He was mad at him for what he saw as a betrayal. For his indifference and for his coldness. It seemed that as far as Martin felt that Dave belonged to him he lost all his interest for the game, but however he couldn’t let Dave get off his strings. Dave kept telling himself; it was just lust, or debauchery, just a drunken sex, who would object, huh? Tell me that it was a mistake, lets us stay friends, for that’s ok for me. Ok. Yes. It won’t be easy, Dave thought, because he felt himself unhealthily turned on every time he was beside him. But he thought he could hang on. Anyway it could be much better that it is now. When he was near, so polite and blameless, they talked they laughed but there was a glass wall between them.
He felt this wall and didn’t know what to do with it.
So he was mad and he swore to leave the band as soon as new album would be done. He will never hear a single word from him. They will record this album and that’s all done. He will go away. By putting one foot in front of the other. Yeapp.
His WORDS were the hardest. His lyrics. Dave knew, Martin’s every word will bleed inside them both. Yeah, he felt him much better now. Usually Martin couldn’t express what he meant in ordinary life. His sphinx’s gaze was unreadable. He talked about the relationships only in general like it didn’t bother him at all. He was changing completely in his songs so it seems that those songs were written by another person. Damn these words. His every word was so sincere and so honest, it seemed surreal. It was some painful mental exhibitionism; he opened up everything he ever can so methodically and cynically it must been hurt, but he didn’t fear this he even found it funny at some point.
Dave was aware of new demos. But there was a hope also. He was afraid of their sincerity. He knew he would get all his answers soon. Let’s see what you’d tell me and then I will decide, he thought.
Meanwhile Martin’s lost.
Nobody has seen him, nobody knew where he could be, in a foreign city and in foreign country. Miller wanted to wake up all the police. They asked half hundred of Martin’s chicks where the fuck he could be, they asked Christine, she indifferently gazed at the bunch of crying girls under the window, but she has no idea. They went mad, they called hospitals and morgues, and they went insane. The week was over and Martin was back. He was contented and tanned, bright and sunny, unshaven and with the reek of the alcohol and hay. He explained that once he was in Germany when he was a kid; there were his school friends in some village, and he suddenly decided to visit them. But-and-ben, they drank for the welcome and for health, all in all they refused to let him go.
Miller and Wilder providently covered Martin from Dave, laughing loudly that it’s their good fortune that he grasped it all sooner then in case with fucking Arsenal, otherwise they could loose a lot of money. Dave took offence candidly. He tried to deliver his point of view to Martin lately. He told him that he must be a geek or the rare sort of bastard, who absolutely doesn’t give a shit about people around.
- Why are you screaming at me, Dave? – He asked reminding him of the wounded little deer Bamby from Disney’s cartoon.
- You haven’t got a clue. - tiredly said Dave, - You. Haven’t got. A clue.
He tried to deliver the thought that he nearly died here without him, that he was worried and he was anxious. He was ready to check every house in Berlin by himself.
- But I wasn’t in Berlin, - sadly announced Martin.
Dave’s patience was violently tried. He hit Martin in the face with his fist and left. Martin didn’t hit him back but went into a condition that should be called The Universal Offence. He was making Dave crazy with that. Dave decided that he will never say a word to Martin Gore anymore, or he wouldn’t be David Gahan. In the end, they are damn grown up people, they are twenty years old!
He’ll keep his word. He will.
The next day Martin was crying on his shoulder. He was dead drunk he came to Dave’s place and stood there, in the hall. He was clutching the wall with his both hands. Every time, when he was trying to get one hand off the wall he kept falling down to the floor. It was unbelievable how he could cross Berlin in such a wicked condition, and he didn’t get arrested. Dave dragged him inside his apartment and onto the couch. Martin buried his head on his shoulder, he was whispering that he can`t live without him, that he aware that he could start to depend on him, but the thought that he won’t be needed anymore was scared him most. Dave was stroking his back and shoulders, he felt that it’s just Martin’s alcoholic psychosis, but that he couldn’t resist the temptation and kept soothing this fucking drunk little kitty with his hands and his lips.
He kissed his cheeks, wet and salty, caressing his lips with his fingers. Martin was trembling in his embrace; he was panting and moaning under Dave’s petting. He seemed to stop worrying at all, just getting his pleasure from their closeness and Dave’s tenderness. In spite of his caresses becoming more and more urgent he believed he should do nothing with Martin for so many reasons. The main reason was that he doubted if Martin could be hard in such condition, but rape in any form wasn’t in his life plans for another sixty years for sure. But he had to admit he was already too fucking horny to stop.
He still had his doubts, if it is the correct form of the romantic reconciliation, to rape his fucking drunken dumb fellow, in time when he was undoing his pants. His friend decided what he needs from him first. Martin slid down with surprising dexterity and stood right between Dave knees, dragging Dave’s jeans down his hips to the boots. Dave cursed astonishingly, but what the fuck could do with him, huh?
Martin sucked him, licked him, kissed his wide spread thighs and knees. Dave groaned from rapture and pushing his hips up, making the touch more aloud. His skin in the inner sides of his hips was burning, cool sweet kisses brings only one second long relief, bringing the fire to its life so very soon. Dave stilled his dick with his hand, made Martin open his mouth and slapped his cock on his lips several times, they both were panting from the arousal now. Fuck it, they were gowning up with the same porno movies. When this mouth found himself on him once again, Dave forced himself to push Martin off him to let it linger.
Dave was shagging him hard although too cynical even for his own liking. He laid him on his back on the couch, clutching both his legs with the one hand. Then he fucked him in two or three more positions that were coming into his mind, Martin didn’t object much but he strictly resisted to do anything in doggy style. Dave didn’t insist, even if it seemed a little bit strange. Dave’s fierce attacks strengthened with every second, he was talking something, relatively to Mart, something bad and something dirty, but it didn’t matter to Martin it was just because of the process. He can hardly see an intelligent person before him right now, he didn’t feel himself either. All the world truth concentrated in his aching cock.
- Fuck….you…turn…shit, c’mon…move it, yeah, you help me till I’m fucking you, …you love it, you fucking whore, you want it, you want me to do it every time…
He was desperately thrusting himself into his mate, clenching his teeth, letting his passion his love his hate and his madness get loose. He grasped Martin’s thighs, obviously bruising them. He wanted him to feel his desperation, he wanted to hurt him. He wanted to make him groan. He howled, because this intense pleasure became unbearable at once. When it all was over he felt gracious to his neighbors that they didn’t call the police for all the screams.

Bright sun beam touched his face, woke him up immediately, Dave tried to hide from the sun and cover his head with the blanket. The blanket was resisting him. Dave opened his eyes, yawned and saw Martin. Martin was lying on his belly and gazing on his hands. There was a slight bewilderment in his face. His palms were heavily injured.
- What the fuck is that? – Dave asked.
- I’m glad to see you too, Dave - answered Martin.
- No, I mean you hands. What happened?
- What happened with my hands? – asked Martin. He examined his hands thoughtfully, and then blood stains on the pillow and the sheets, - Dunno. Uh…um…I think, it’s probably… Alexanderplatz.
- Alexanderplatz?
- Asphalt…there…under the globe clock on the square, near the railway station… It`s there very rough…like an emery.
- Asphalt’s rough…a-ye…right…understood, so why the fuck were you creeping there, Mart?
- I-I-I wasn’t…creeping I moved at your direction. I decided it was very important to go to you. But it wasn’t worked out right. Mainly I had to crawl … well I believe I crossed Alexanderplatz.
- Oh, lord, why? ...Why are you punishing me like THAT? – Theatrically moaned Dave, - First aid kit is in the bathroom. Doctors wouldn’t help you with your head anyway. Breakfast maybe?
- No. Why bother? – Martin asked gloomily, his head fell onto the pillow, - I’ll die anyway.
- Shit, - hissed David and stood up.
Lately Martin appeared in the kitchen wearing only a bath towel. His palms were plastered, and he made himself more human, standing under the cold shower for a half of an hour. Bluish shade of his skin gone, but still he was extremely sad. Dave was crunching his toast with a ham, he stood up, when he saw Martin, opened his fridge and handed him cool beer bottle.
- How about some beer, you evil fiend?
Martin held the bottle and took a sip. His face lit for a second then darkened again.
- Look… h-how should I jerk off from now on, huh? – He asked, making Dave laugh so hard, he almost fell down near the fridge, and then he laughed too.

Here is the house
When it`s all happened
Those tender moments
Under this roof
Body and soul comes together
As we come closer together
Here is the house

With or without words
I`ll confide everything ** Here is the house by M.L. Gore

They were in the plane on their way to Santa Barbara, to Martin’s studio where they decided to start a new record. Dave told them about Jack.
- You know,…so he kind-a ask me, dad, why do you wear an earring in your ass?
Martin laughed so hard, tears were swelling on his eyes. Fletch asked the stewardess to bring him some water.
- You explained him, didn’t you? – wiping tears off asked Martin.
- The fuck I did, - Dave answered with the hint of desperation in his voice, - It was hell easier to remove it, so he wouldn’t ask me…again.
They all snickered again.
- Such an inquisitive young man… - Fletch took a sip of water.
- Aye,…he`s so eager for knowledge… - said Dave, - he`s a fast learner in everything that he shouldn’t know, so far, what he should know he hasn’t any interest at all. There’s nothing I can do with him. He fucking left his college. I told him, Jack, what the fuck? Your father is suffering all his life that he left his school; you want to be such dunderhead too? So he told me in answer, I don’t give a shit, you are making your records and feeling just fine and you are not needy. What do you want from me? You want me to put some accounts from one table to another and working hard like that till I get piles? Let the others be learnt to do things that. Someone who is cleverer and more talented then me. I want to make music too.
- Why can`t you make him complete his education…you are his father, - Andrew said.
- This stallion is eighteen years old, he`s old and wise and no one can tell him what to do. Can`t you remember yourself when you were eighteen? You thought that you are the cleverest man in the world, just like him, though that was my impression when I first saw you, Andy.
Andy quirked his eyebrow.
- Jack is eighteen, you don’t say so… - Martin said thoughtfully.
- Oh, c’mon Martin, how old is your eldest one? Fifteen? – Dave grinned, - She gonna be a bride soon, man. Does someone courting her? Or maybe her heart belongs to this English bastard Harry Potter? My little girl adored him, I can`t see him anymore, no. When I am going to my bathroom, wanting to be alone for some time what can I see there? A poster with Harry Potter.
Martin rubbed the back of his neck.
- Actually, we are going to be Britney Spears…
- Oh, no, - Dave said, - Viva Lee Gore?
- That was exactly what I’ve said, - told Martin, he rubbed his eyes, blinked, the air in the plane was too dry, he put on his sunglasses, - you know…but…but…well…she’s hot…
- Who?
- She is…from our bathroom’s poster…
Dave and Andy laughed again, wondering if this was Martin himself who could put the poster onto his bathroom wall. Also they were wondering why he could do that. Martin pictured some kind of false embarrassment with his face.
- Jack surprised me, - Dave changed the topic – He`s collecting old Rolling Stones and the Doors and all that stuff, he likes them. You know he seems to know them better then me.
- Uh…well…and I have all Britney’s records, - said Martin.
They were laughing again.
- I hope I’ll have a chance to see your kids.
- I hope so either, - Martin nodded.
- How long are you living separately from Susanne?
- Officially, we are living together though you are not interested in that shit. Some years maybe less maybe more.
- Maybe less maybe more, - Dave repeated.
- We are going through divorce now, for about three months or so, as far as Californian laws exist we are at the very beginning.
- Dividing your property, earned with your hard mutual work? You had time to earn so much, you dodger?
Martin grinned.
- I don’t need anything. I just want to see my children. My lawyer told me that it’s not THAT simple.
- Why did you decide to do that after all? I can`t comprehend. What of it! You are two grownups, she’s got her life and you’ve got yours. I see you are not disturbing each other. You have three children.
- I didn’t want to.
- C’mon, Mart, - said Dave, - she left you for the younger lover, huh? I’ve heard it was you who messing with some Turkish chick. True, it is your genuine style, chuck, you were drunk once you spilled that your new girlfriend is a Muslim.
Martin was staring aside, his look was showing to everybody that this topical talk is over. Dave kicked his side with his elbow, not agreeing with his decision and kept kicking him with his elbow until Martin was tired to the point that he began to kick him back.
- Hey, Mart, or maybe…it is his fault – Dave poked his head, looking back if to be sure that no one is listening, - This thick-lipped monster with the brains of New Zealand’s aborigine Gordeno? I knew that something’s wrong with him, he staring at you with such obscenity all the time…Mart, shit, MART, fuck you, MART! Stop it! For God’s Sake! Stop strangling me, huh? Don’t leave my family without their bread-winner.
Martin straightened up in his chair, he remained serious.
- I am feeling like a fool. You know it seems like I betrayed her, betrayed my own children betrayed their trust and their love. And at the same time she’s staying with the family, and I’m just not needed anymore. I just feel that I am a complete looser. I’ve just been left somewhere in this life.
- No one would ever leave you, - said Dave, - never. That is out of question.
- Dear God, how could I live without your teachings for so long, David, huh?
- That’s what I should have asked YOU, Martin, how could you live without my teachings for so long? – Dave raised his voice, - Although you are never answering my questions. I had to develop supernatural powers in me just to talk to you. Listen, Mart, don’t you understand that you are strange?
- Strange? Me? – asked Martin.
- A-ha, - said Dave.
- And why’s that?
- The fuck I know. You are thinking one thing, you are telling the other thing you are doing things that aren’t connected to the previous two. It astonishes how it all logically bound in your inner world and it’s all lying across other people’s way of behavior.
- Which people?
- Doesn’t matter….those people, these people, they are living here right near you and you have to cooperate with them sometimes.
- Ah…those… - Martin told with disappointment in his voice, he put a smile on Dave’s face.
- Ma-a-a-a-art, - he sang, - Mart. You are something that should be learned with the map, what kind of fellow are you. You should be explored, examined carefully, you every molecule, and then someone would put together all the small contradictories in you, and, all in all, see the whole picture. It would be so satisfactorily to see you as you are just to comprehend at the exact moment that one was fucking done by you and all is not what it seems. It was just another illusion. One was easily deceived and fucking loose in your favorite game. You let someone see just the things you wanted him to see. So one should start his investigation once again. But life is not enough and no one can live the second life. I don’t know, if you think that’s normal, then we are around you have a risk to go crazy very soon.
Martin looked at him. There was hidden interest in his eyes. Dave’s challenge attracted his attention immediately. He said to him:
- What exactly do you want from me, Dave?
Dave had perfect confidence that he meant «We gonna talk later». Yeah, later is ok, Mart. – he was sure if he answered Martin like that he wouldn’t be surprised at all. Dave looked at Fletch, Fletch were gazing at him intently. So confident and so calm, he reminded him of some Guardian Angel, he was ready to grind into dust anyone who would make an attempt to encroach on Martin. Dave decided to change the topic.
- That’s what friends are for – Dave put his hand on Martins shoulder, - they always eager to help you and be near when you need it and when you don’t need it at all.
Martin forced a smile.
- Hey, - Dave moaned, - Don’t make me feel like a fool, tell me something.
- Sorry, - Martin told, - I am sorry Dave. You would believe me but I have nothing to say. I’ve heard some good news, anyway. I’ve got lost in them.
The stewardess brings them their coffee; Fletch added some sugar and got pillows from his pocket.
- Deja vu, - Andy said, - I feel now like I’ve already seen it before. Did you ever get this feeling?
- Probably…yes.
- Yeah, but it wasn’t the most frightening thing that ever happened to me, - Dave said, - Did I tell you what happened yesterday?
- Not yet, - said Fletch, drinking his hot and flavored coffee.
- I had a dream. I don’t know, if it was a dream or hallucination or delusion, name it as you like. I felt somebody standing outside my door. One person. No, that’s true. I woke up; I get off my bed and darted out from the hotel room. I stood there for five minutes or maybe more, I couldn’t believe that it was just a dream. So, I returned to my room. But I can`t forget this feeling. Just can`t.
- Oh…shit, Dave, you are hell of a fibber – said Fletch.
- Which person? – Barely audibly asked Martin. Dave looked at him feeling his hear was biting faster.
- My friend, - he answered, - an old friend. Close friend. Very close friend.
Martin didn’t move.
- When I comprehend that he wasn’t there I was ready to burst out with tears, I was so sure that he was, - Dave hemmed, - Hey, Mart you, fucker, are you sleeping there or what?
He leaned to Martin, took off his sunglasses, then he saw that his eyes was closed and put them on again. But something attracted his attention. He buried his nose on Martin’s neck and loudly inhaled. It was that scent that he smelled in the corridor and because of that he decided not to call a doctor.
- What’s that? – He asked.
- «Angel»
- Angel, - Dave smirked, - fuck yes. There must be an Angel
Plane radio started to play the song from Black Celebration.

It`s easy to slip away
And believe it all *** It doesn’t matter by M.L. Gore

- What the fuck, its Depeche Mode again… - said Martin.

Chapter 4

The new album was released. Martin married Christine, Andy married Anna. Both just married husbands decided to go to their new tour, instead of the honeymoon. It was the first tour that they can call serious. Sure, they were touring before, even with Vince, when they took a roundabout way to London’s outskirts. But this one meant to be the long one, and it included some foreign countries also. It was a challenge and it was a trial. A challenge of their professionalism, album quality, and the money that Mute gave them before. They were moving from town to town, in a tour bus. There were some beds, and minimalist facilities.
Right before their departure Martin became suddenly aware that he was suffering from travel sickness. So he got drunk in fifteen minutes to a vegetable condition and slept over the next round of the clock. So they comprehend that the hardest trial would be to try to live with each other somehow. To be before each others very eyes for twenty four hours a day, and not having any privacy at all. It was the real danger to their friendship and a threat to their good relations. If you were at home you could fight with somebody and just return home, and in the morning you’ll be pretty fine, but now it was nowhere to go. Nowhere at all.
They should resign themselves to their habits, and not the best ones. Dave was loudly mumbling while he was shaving. Martin was not in the mood every morning; because it seemed that he got over-drunk the previous evening again, obviously, brakes weren’t included into his construction. And he was a hypochondriac too. He was worrying all the time, if his heart’s still beating, if he can breathe at all, or if he had some strange stitch somewhere. Though he refused to take any medications because he believed that all those chemical stuff are immoral, but alcohol wasn’t immoral at all, so he took alcohol. Fletch who was partying with him all night, held on better but he was doing them slowly with his tiresomeness. He urged them to keep the place tidy and to keep their personal stuff in order, explaining that this place is so small and there is an obvious need for them to be orderly persons and be law compliant persons at the point of them four living together.
Dave was dreaming how he could strangle Fletch in bed one night. Dave had a sore throat and his stomach was aching too, but Fletch decided that it is a lecture time.
- Why are you clucking here like a hen about her stolen eggs? – Obligingly asked Dave, - Someone here is trying to get some sleep.
- I am trying to get some sleep in the mornings either, Dave, but still you are mumbling in the toilet, or when I am trying to get some sleep during the day, you are galloping to the toilet to mumble loudly like a madman, - said Andy.
- I am not mumbling I am warming up my voice! – Dave almost jumped up from his bed, - Besides I think it’s time for you to know, Fletch, some people are singing here.
- But of course not as masterly as you are clapping your hands, - announced Alan from the bed that was right under Dave’s bed. He was wearing only variegated boxers and was very gloomy; he tried to read when it all has been started.
From the top bed over Fletch`s they heard thunderlike genuine laughter they started to hate.
- YOU SHUT UP YOU CUNT! – They roared altogether.
- You fucked us up with your bras – said Dave – they are everywhere, but this big red jerk is screwing my brains for my only pair of socks!
- I’ll remind you about being a jerk later…- hissed Andy.
Martin poked out his head; there was a sheepish grin on his face, of course.
- But I am not wearing bras, - unbelievably nicely he said, - I am proud of my small and naturally perked breasts!
Dave hid his face and tried not to die from laughter.
- BUT YOUR CHEAP WHORES ARE WEARING! – Squeaked Alan, - They are everywhere! I’m fucking tired to find another bra under my pillow everyday. I’m feeling myself here like I am in a venereal clinic! Are you shagging them in every bed?
- Shagging? Me? In every bed, no it cant be true – said Martin, his smile became even brighter, when Alan handed him a lacy bra, - Oh yeah…it’s brassiere, - Martin examined it, thoughtfully, then put it on to his head and said, - Or may be it was my mistake, not to wear them? – He strained brassiere cups putting them on his ears and asked his buddies, - Please, tell me my dear ladies, does ash pink color suite me or not?
Dave and Andy snickered.
- If I’ll climb up there now… - warned Alan – You will not survive this time, Martin.
- YOU will not survive if you’ll even try, Al, - warned Dave.
- Should I wear it for tomorrow’s show? – Not giving any attention to their dialogue asked Martin.
- Take it from him, - moaned Alan, - fuck you take it fucking away from him. And throw it far far away, as far as it ever possible. Martin, you cunt, give it to me, now, if you are going to fucking wear it I’ll better eat this shit just not to allow you.
- Why are you so nervous, Alan, - nicely asked Martin, - oh…I should have known…it might be yours?
Andy and Dave were trying to drag Alan down, but it was hell hard, because he was too keen to climb up now.
The next day was hard and Alan was very tired after the show. All the equipment just stopped working correctly as if it was cursed. Phonogram was pausing not in time, synthesizers` programming went wrong. He was feeling nervous all day and he was really mad that no one except him seemed to care much. He just wanted to hide somewhere not to see anyone and not to hear anyone. But Martin, Dave and Fletch were just extremely happy that no one kicked their asses for that show. It was ok but then they decided to drink some tequila.
At the customs where their bus stopped, Martin and Andy rushed into the duty-free shop, didn’t care to change their show outfits. Martin was with painted nails and in his makeup; he was wearing his lacy corset shoulders-strap down, leather mini skirt and leather pants. He told them that found this lacy corset here in the bus, but Alan was sure that it didn’t belong to any of them four. Assistants in the duty free shop nearly died from this surreal beauty incarnate, other tourists that doomed to be customers today, were dashing aside them.
Andy held Martin’s shoulders possessively, like a respectable burgher, who went out for a promenade with his young wife. Martin were grinning sheepishly and tenderly making eyes on Andy, he was in heaven from the all attention that he could attract now. Alan thought that most radical tourists should be given a box in the ears that’s fore sure, crashing and yelling around their bus were that loud, but he didn’t care to look, Martin’s killingly joyful face appeared before him explained all.
- Monsieur Wilder, - with false French accent asked Martin – Are you ready for the booze-up and debauchery? – He smelled with alcohol right now so they’ve started it already.
- Be gone, Evil One, - Alan pulled the blanket over his head, - Get thee gone Satan! I don’t want to see you anymore.
- Shall I not disturb your wet dreams about your hairdresser girl? – Martin asked with tender voice, pulled the blanket off Alan’s face and passionately kissed his forehead.
- Fuck you, Mart, - Dave pulled Martin to himself by the belt, he talked a little bit slurry, - You fucking out of your mind? You should be hold in a leash?
- You `d better keep him in the cage with a muzzle on, - said Alan.
Martin laughed.
When they left the customs far behind, those three started to drink tequila. Andy became a master of ceremonies in this damn kindergarten. They sprinkled some salt on their palms, licked it then drank their tequilas then bit a lemon, they was following Andy’s command.
- Lick. Bite, - sounded loudly.
- I will lick you…. – roared Alan, - and bite you all but just shut the fuck up.
The rest of his speech drowned in loud guffaw. Andy was almost crying. Dave was lying on Martin’s lap his legs were jerking from laughter.

The plane’s engines were droning smoothly. Martin’s eyes were shut, he seemed to be sleeping. Dave was staring at his neck, at the steadily pulsating vein, on his stylish shaven whiskers on his smooth face.
He recalled another tour. Exciter Tour. About only few years ago. Dave again nearly drowned that time, though he was confident that it will never happen. He had his beloved wife Jennifer now, his Angel and his Saviour, he had their children and he had his life. New life. Different life. Filled with light and warmth. Free from all this pain and suffering. It has nothing in common now with the Abyss he fell into before.
When they met the first time on the bargaining table in the band convention, Martin and Fletch already did something for the album. That was cool, so he will need to work less. They haven’t seen each other too often, though when they met there were a lot of people around. Especially in Santa Barbara in Martin’s home studio. Christian and Peter and other session musicians created something, Martin was strumming something on his guitar, Fletch was reading his newspapers, Dave was frigging around the studio, jeering around and smoking his cigars. Martin laughed at his jokes, he was with his daughters almost all the time, they looked like two his clones in female appearances. Girls adored Uncle Dave.
- Uncle Dave, we will go to the aqua park today? You promised…and I want the same picture in my arm…as yours.
- You have two choices ladies, - Dave said, - Picture or Aqua Park.
- Angels of mine, could you please stop bothering Uncle Dave? – said Martin.
- Ladies, we will do our job, there’s little left and then your Dad and me will take you to the Aqua park, - Dave lifted up his index finger, - Can you hear me, Daddy?
- Do I really have a choice? – asked Martin.
- NO! – yelled Viva and Ava together.
- Fletch, will you go with us?
- I forgot my swimming suit; - Andrew’s eyes were piecing Dave even through his glasses.
Martin’s wife, Susanne, was so very nice with Dave but he knew she can`t stand him. He doubted that Martin will ever tell her anything about them, that wasn’t in his style at all, it was easier to kill Martin then to make him tell you the things that he doesn’t want to. Obviously, he never has been so eager to tell the things like that to anyone. Especially to his own wife. But her possessive instincts to her husband were painfully tried every time in Dave’s presence. However it all was so nice and sweet, they were like two old buddies, and Dave relaxed. He relaxed where he should not; he relaxed where it was forbidden to relax to him.
Not with the man whose name is Martin Lee Gore. He wasn’t an Angel, like Jennifer, even if his clothes on this tour were shiny white and it seemed that he had a white wing behind his shoulder.
Dave couldn’t recall how it happened again, why he found himself in his hotel room in his bed, with Martin lying on top of him. Martin was kissing him slowly and tenderly, touching him slightly, it felt more like the tickle then the touch. Martin kissed his hands, his lips, as always, Dave was already going to come.
- I am a grown up man, - whispered Dave to his mouth, - I shouldn’t come from the fact that someone groped me in the corner.
- I am not groping you in the corner, - answered Martin, - I am just kissing you in your bed. What’s wrong with that?
Dave cursed himself for his chest hair because it seemed to interfere in him enjoying the sensation that Martin’s lips were giving him. Weird, Martin treated him like he was some precious jewel, like he was an inexperienced tiny girl, treated him as if he was aware to offend or to frighten him. No it wasn’t such inexplicable if you could remember what they’ve been through. Dave felt sometimes that almost from every single common gesture or simple touch he had a lump in his throat, like he was like a thirteen year old boy, and it was his first date and he was going to tell the girl that he likes her. Regarding the fact that near him it wasn’t a young girl it was a grown man, and they had known each other for twenty years now, and they knew each other not from their best sides, it was rather strange.
- I hate you, - he said to Martin after the press conference, while accompanying him to his hotel room, - I hate myself. Because of you. I hate you because of myself.
Martin answered with his own genuine – Heh-heh-heh- and gave a sharp blow to the door near Dave’s very nose, not even care to turn back. Dave shrank back from the door with the surprise.
He was thinking a lot about the nature of their relationships. Why this gravity was so strong why it is dragged them to each other with unbelievable strength. Sexual attraction, even unusually huge would pass, and sexual partners of any kind would never be a problem for them both. What amazed Dave most – it was his own attitude to Martin. He just couldn’t see himself with another man. He just can`t. He believed that he could come or maybe even twice with the with same sex person, but the idea of some other man as an emotional centre of his being, like Martin, made him really sick.
But the result of all his reflections was every time just the same. And today Dave’s was staring at the ceiling, his feelings was rapture and hate combined, he was trying to catch some air, and knowing that it was stronger then him this whirlpool of the senses and feelings, those emotions that was ripping him apart, crushed his soul because He was near at the moment and He was with him only now. Dave just allowed Martin to do whatever he desired. And he knew he would allow him as long as he will need it.
Martin was this type, he’d never tell you if he doesn’t like anything right in your face. Dave just thought that he has to do it anyway. He dragged Martin to his room later and lifted up his own shirt, his chest was absolutely smooth now.
Martin would never been compared to another lover for him, because he doesn’t need words. Even worse, the less you tell the best it worked out. Martin could comprehend what exactly did his partner want from him, and maybe even better than his partner himself, it never appeared in Martin’s mind that it could be other way. Dave’s head was spinning from those thoughts even more than from physical caresses. And it dragged him into the blackest whirlpools of jealousy, when it appeared to him that he`s actually not the one who can experience those kinds of sensations from Martin. But, nevermind, this time Martin sized up his sacrifice like he should and only he could be THAT grateful.
But in the morning he wasn’t near, again.
It drove Dave wild; he came to hate this wicked game. Martin held his strings, like he was a puppet for him. Martin gave him tenderness and sophisticated pleasures, but strictly held his distance. They were physically close every night, as it had never been before, their wives would have a right to demand their payment, but they’ve never been so far apart emotionally. Even in that early Basildon amateur show, when he violently tried to show drunken Martin that he cared, when they were avoiding each other, they were closer than now in those fashionable hotels across Europe. It got better and better, but the pain grew bigger and bigger.
Dave was groaning, almost crying, though he was happy that this room, next to his is empty now, because its owner now was lying between his legs pushing him to his orgasm.
- Mart…Mart…Mart…Martin, Martin, Mart, - he whispered this word like it was a spell, feeling this name on his lips like a caress.
- Mart, - he made him come.
- Mart, - he went inside him like maybe dreamt a lot of people but no one ever could.
- Ma-a-a-art, - Dave was clutching steel muscles of Martin’s arms, twitching under him, again and again, like he wanted to be free, but just increasing their contact to feel the pleasure became unbearable, as unbearable as later became this familiar pain.
Next day it repeated, and not a single word from Martin again.
Naked Dave was lying in Martin’s bed, crushing all the pillows under his weight, he was smoking his cigar.
- I understood why are we sleeping together, - said David, - I am trying to talk to you for the past twenty years but you can`t communicate any other way. However the bed is the only place on Earth where I can hear some miserable resemblance of sincerity from you.
Martin looked at him point-blank. His face refused to show any emotion.
- So I believe, - said Dave.
Martin tiredly looked aside.
- Talk to me, - asked Dave, though he knew he was sounding like some geek.
- Why? – asked Martin.
- To talk? - Dave determined - Why to talk?
Martin nodded.
- I have no idea. I need to know what’s going on with me, what’s going on with us…both.
- What is going on with us that never happened before? – asked Martin if this desperate sorrow wasn’t hiding in his strange eyes, Dave would decide that Martin was making fun of him.
- I want to talk about our relationships.
- What’s wrong? – Martin asked again and Dave tried to breathe slowly to slow his rising rage, he suddenly felt a need to hit him but he was sure that he will hate himself then.
- Oh, everything - he said, squeezing his teeth, - Everything’s wrong. I am feeling bad. I am feeling hurt. I’ve told you, I don’t like pain. I am not satisfied with what’s going on, Mart, don’t you understand? I am not satisfied with those relationships, Mart. Are you?
- Yeah, - almost inaudibly said Martin, nodded and then added, - Yes. I can`t explain, I don’t know how. I just know… that I need you.
Dave lost his speech. He opened his mouth then closed, inhaled cigar smoke, then quenched his cigar then tried to light it up again.
- Dave, - said Martin.
- Mart?
- W-what…exactly do you want from me? – He asked.
- The fuck I know, - spilled Dave with clear irritation in his voice.
Martin nodded. He knew that even better.
- I don’t know and it drives me wild, - said Dave, - I don’t know anything I just feel I should break free from all this and breathe again. I am feeling like a puppet, I am feeling that I can`t control my life. I don’t want it anymore…no…I want to be free.
Martin looked at him. His eyes were like cat’s or serpent’s eyes, they expressed nothing.
- Martin, do you understand what am I talking about? I want to rule my own Destiny. I believed I did. But then you appeared and I am not myself anymore. I want to be free from all that. I want to be free.
- I never kept you from that, - Martin said ordinarily, - and I wouldn’t ever. When you decide to leave, could you please turn down the air-conditioner a little, I can`t find my control panel.
Dave scratched his navel.
- The fuck I go now, wearing only socks, - he said, turning off the light and turning to sleep.

Martin had never opened himself to him. Down to the bottom. It was just his nature, there wasn’t some exact reason. Dave grinned, well perhaps he even hasn’t got a clue that something’s wrong with that.
Martin somehow enjoyed his existence in that abyss of pain and vice and despair where Dave had been once and nearly died. Obviously, Dave believed now that there are certain things in this life that should stay unknown. He always was an idealist, when he was young he thought that lovers and friends should share everything with each other, their dreams, ideas, they should be like an opened book to each other, little by little he started to realize, that there could be another points of view in the world, which don't coincide with his, now he surrendered. Dave had yawned and put his head on Martin's shoulder; Martin almost jumped from surprise and opened his eyes.
- We arrived? - He asked.
- No, - Dave said, - but soon… I hope.
- Where's Fletch?
- Like during all important moments of his life, he`s visiting the toilet. That's why important moments never happened to him, he just knows where to wait till the end of it all, - Dave said, his head was still on Martin's shoulder. Martin laughed and moved in the arm-chair, trying to get more comfortable.
- Answer me, Martin, - Dave finally decided, - why am I trying to change you my whole life, but don’t succeed?
- Cos my motto is I fear changes! - Martin said.
- You're lying, - Dave said.
- Oh yes, and I am lying, - Martin agreed.
- Dear God, did I sin that much? Why are you punishing me like that? - Dave asked Somebody, looking crookedly at Martin.
- You should ask your conscience, Dave, you should ask your conscience, - Fletch, appeared behind his back, answered instead of Somebody and settled himself down on the opposite arm-chair.
- I was thinking about this before, Dave, - Martin smiled, - and came to a conclusion that, perhaps, I don't want to change anything… I mean, in you… Who knows what is right and what is wrong? Maybe, I could be better but it won't be me, and maybe you could be…different, but it would be a different person. You… - Martin paused as if he was searching for the right words, - blame me because I'm hanging on the past…
- I don't.
- You do, - Martin said, his face was thoughtful, - and maybe you're right, all that I ever had is in the past now.
- Mart…
- No, I don't blame you, you're right, Dave. I have nothing but memories.
- Yeah…past, - Fletch nodded, setting his glasses straight, - You know, when I was young I used to think, Dave, how sweet life could be if your parents used contraception better, but now I realized that somehow you are diversifying my plain routine of rights and obligations. You know, my life would be really boring without you.
- I love you too, Andy, - Dave pouted his lips.


However they knew that show must go on. They were getting used to their success. They comprehend, they were going their way to the top and this feeling sending shivers down their spines and making their heads spin. It was just outrageously gorgeous. They moved into another city and they knew this city would lay at their feet.
Veni.Vidi.Vici. They came. They saw. They conquer. And the city willingly submitted them its love, adoration, worship, sex, alcohol and drugs. The City laid in front of them like an experienced whore, openly offering herself to them. They left after another day and then in the next city it started from the very beginning.
- Sometimes I feel how a Conqueror should feel, - said Martin. He stood near the window, gazing at the brightly colored city roofs, he crossed his hands on his chest like some sort of Napoleon and screwed one eye not to let the smoke of the cigarette enter. Alan interrupted his staring at the storm-cloud, so obscured and saturnine on the low Holland sky; he blinked and looked at Martin.
- What is it? – asked Martin. He looked pale and thin. Or maybe Alan just forgot how he looks like; he hasn’t seen Martin during the daylight for half of the year.
- It’s nothing, - Alan smiled.
- Is it? – asked Martin.
- It is!
Martin shoved him with his shoulder, Alan shoved him in return. They both were laughing now.
Alan gazed at the window once again and shrugged. This storm-cloud seemed to move at his direction, twisting into some intricate spirals, like turning into a tornado. Alan gazed and suddenly he recalled his last nightmare. He fell. He fell down, somewhere. There was a lot of familiar faces and voices they tried to catch him but it was useless. He just fell deeper and deeper, and he was crying out desperately. A black whirlpool moved to him closer with every second of his fall, with thunder and roar. He tried not to look but again it was useless, his own will meant nothing at all. This Hell Broth was boiling near, Good Lord, he believed that it might be Hell. He put his hands to his ears not be able to hear this sound of approaching of the giant twister. Now he can hear voices in the tornado’s roar. Screams, as desperate as his own. He was sure now it WAS Hell.
This hell broth approaching him even right now with this storm-cloud, Alan screamed and grabbed Martins hands with his cold, shaky fingers.
- Alan, are you all right? What’s going on with you? – Martin held him not letting him to fall down to the floor, he looked at him anxious. Alan saw his face and suddenly returned to his senses. Coffee-colored curtains and primitive pictures in the same plain deep-brown oak frames, forged chandelier, reminded him that he was in a hotel; he wiped off the sweat from his forehead, - Alan? – Martin called him again.
- Huh? – Alan breathed out, - I’m probably just tired. Overdone. It’s… - he nodded to what he sees now as an ordinary cloud – Weather stuff…maybe. Acclimatization.
- Weather stuff? Um…yeah…it’s like atmosphere pressure…
Alan nodded, feeling a little bit shaky still. Martin dragged him to the couch.
- Atmosphere Pressure,… - said Martin, - Once I…
- Oh, no, - moaned Alan, - not now, Martin. Stop telling me about your damn health, for I just can`t stand it right now. This is too much for me to hold on.
Martin obviously was offended, because he ceased talking for the long time. He melancholically went into the bathroom; he found there two glasses in the plastic bags signed Sterilized. He gazed at the bags with wonder for some time, then opened the bottle of wine.
He handed a full glass to Alan, drank his own glass bottom’s up and set near to his mate. Alan felt inconvenient for his previous harshness to Martin. He began with some uncertainty.
- Hey, you’d better stop your all night partying, chuck, your muzzle turned deep blue. You know clubs and bars are not that good for your health. Night is to sleep.
Martin nervously licked his lower lip.
- I can`t, - he said, - I can`t sleep.
Martin looked at the window and back at him. Alan frowned.
- Fletch said that today there will be a party… - started Martin.
- Yeah, - Alan answered, - we better go then.


This time the grass was hell strong, they picked up their drug dealer somewhere in Holland, and he decided to mess up with them nobody knew why. They four were relaxing in Fletch`s room and kept giggling from every chicken-feed for the whole hour. They were feeling that the joint was giving to their screwed up and damaged on tour souls some warmth and may be even some sort of love for the co-workers. They all seemed so nice people now. Then they drank some wine to be more satisfied with the hash’s effect.
Martin went into the bathroom, yelled at the sight of himself in the mirror and then he returned, giggling and told everybody that there was a red-eyed vampire in the bathroom.
Fletch told him that he is the red-eyed vampire and tried to hide under the sofa. Martin loved the idea, he insisted that they should call him Nosferatu from now on, and he started to bite his buddies in the neck, jumping on them from the back.
Dave attacked some bizarre antiquarian bureau in the adjoining room. There was somebody, and this somebody was spying on him. He was making faces to him, hiding and laughing at him, he poked his head from this bureau every time when Dave tried to look somewhere else. Dave cursed him, threaten him, but he only laughed and cursed him in answer. Dave tried to crawl under the bureau, but this bastard was slipping away from him every time he was sure that he caught him. But Dave now was ready for revenge.
He pulled his clasp knife off his pocket and began to methodically and attentively knock bureau down, unscrewing each small screw, breaking open the doors and legs and shelves. Several hours passed and his job was done, he was proud of himself that he beaten this unknown invader. He went in into the room where he left his friends before to boast of his accomplished feat.
He froze. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t believe, he went out then went in again. But it wasn’t a hallucination it was real.
Nobody understood what had happened then.
But they failed to finish their tour this time `cause they couldn’t find Dave in the morning. They asked Head Waiter, and he answered them, that mister Gahan left hotel this night and went to London.
- H-how’s that? – asked Martin, trying hard to blink, his eyes were sore if there was sand.
- Mister Gore? – asked the Head Waiter.
- Yeah, - said Martin.
- Here is a note for you from Mister Gahan.
- What?
- What is that?
Alan and Fletch asked.
Martin looked at them and forced a clown smile. It worked out rather bad and unnatural. He crumpled a sheet of paper and put it into his jeans pocket.
- I-I…don’t know….but I think…he`s probably… - slowly he began.
- MARTIN?! – yelled his friends.
- I-I… don’t… think …he… will… back, - said Martin and thoughtfully tumbled down face to the floor.

Dave was going to his London flat in a taxi. He felt better here, in England. Not great but, he will get over. Meanwhile at the other end of Europe, Martin was lying in a chamber under the medicine dropper, melancholically watching limpid fluid flowing down through the transparent tube into the needle, stuck into his vein.
Only a week ago it seemed to be so right.
They returned after the French concert, Martin followed Dave. Dave stopped in the corridor leaning against the wall and talking about their unbelievable attainments in modern art. Martin buried his head into Dave's neck.
- Dave - he said.
- What? - Dave answered, patting Martin shaven nape and moving a cigarette to the opposite corner of his mouth with his tongue.
- Da-a-ve - Martin drawled.
- What is that, Martin?
- No-o-thing.
- Already tipsy, Your Majesty? – Dave asked.
- Not yet.
- Going bananas?
- Nah. I just like the sound of your name - Martin was blowing on his neck, - Dave.
- Ouch - Dave felt something scratching his navel and down to his balls. And he had just said that he liked the name. Short but already curly hair tickled his palm. Martin rubbed his face on Dave's neck. Half-sigh or half-moan loomed to Dave. He hissed and gripped Martin's shoulder, holding a cigarette in his hand; he gripped Martin not to fall himself. His heart hardly jumped out of his chest. Martin was standing near him, lying his head on his shoulder, he didn't touch him any other way, but Dave was dying from rapture.
- Ya know, - he said finally to justify himself in his own eyes about his weakness, - If my cat is hungry he always comes to ya starting rubbing, purring, my mother comes to a standstill so touchingly looking at him, she's afraid to breathe, and she like - Oh my sweet kitty has come….I always laughed at her, but now I understood.
Dave dragged from his cigarette.
- Heh-Heh-Heh - Martin said and dug his teeth where he could reach, suddenly Dave realized, what exactly he was going to do.
- You animal, don't you dare to do that - but he couldn't seriously prevent Martin's intentions, - oh, fu-u-uck.
- Mine - Martin said. He put out Dave's cigarette and stuck it into his mouth, stepped back. He was looking at Dave a little bit weird.
- What?
- Mine.
- Marking your territory? - Dave grinned, rubbing the base of his neck, as if it could save him from the appearance of this mark.
- Hey, - making big pauses between his words said Martin, ordinarily and even indifferently, - I think….I am…in love now.
Dave dropped his eyes, took another cigarette with his trembling hand lit it up.
- Fucking shit, - he said, taking his cigarette back from Martin’s mouth and replacing it with the new one. He lost his voice for a minute, - you know, this is the real fucking shit.
- Why da ya t-think sho? - Martin lisped, not caring to take the cigarette out of his teeth.
Dave tried to glean the words for long, but only flapped his hand.
- Forget it, - he said. – My hands are shaking. I need to drink now.
He entered the room, approached the bar without any doubt that Martin followed him. Whisky scorched his throat. Martin sat on a floor not letting the cigarette out of his mouth and spilling ash everywhere. Dave sat opposite him and placed an ashtray near him.
- Outside - Dave said he was lighting a new cigarette right from Martin's. Martin turned.
- It’s night.
- People - Dave said - they're always standing there - he grinned - they're sitting up at my window to see me, to take an autograph.
- People are people - Martin quoted himself - you know, I'm afraid of the darkness.
Dave pensively moved his eyebrows up and down.
- Martin, don't try…oh, no don't you try to arouse my sympathy again, don’t try this trick on me Martin I know already where it leads.
They both laughed.
- 1:0 and you opened the score - pensively nodded Martin and propped his head, he was looking to the unknown direction.
- I'm afraid too, - Dave said suddenly - you know I'm happy now, but I'm afraid. They're copying me, trying to be like me. I'm afraid of their love and I'm afraid of losing it. I know what they're expecting from me and I'm afraid of ruining their expectations. On the other hand I'm afraid that I'm not the one they expect me to be. I want to say everything but I know that I can't say even a half. Do you understand me?
Martin looked without blinking, then he came to his senses, rubbed his face and yawned.
- What do you think about it? – Dave asked.
- To be honest, - said Martin, - I think in time it will be worse.
- Why?
Martin shrugged his shoulders.
- Once the man asked God "Why, my Lord? I’ve lost my wife and son, my daughter was raped, my house burnt down to the ground, so I've got nothing. I’ve lost my last hope. When this black stripe is going to end?" and the Lord answered him: “You’d better relax, man. It was the white stripe yet".
- Sometimes I miss your comprehensive optimism - Dave laughed.
- Besides, I think I'm happy now… - Martin said.
- Right. Me too but it's your fault - Dave grinned.
- I was going to say the same.
- I knew.
Martin smiled.
- I haven't got friends at school…
- Martin, I really love you, somewhere… in my very soul, honestly, but for some reason, I'm not surprised. - Dave said he was lying in his side, propping up his head.
- Heh-Heh-Heh - Martin laughed significantly - except Fletch.
- Fletch isn't human, he’s some sort of higher being, I wouldn’t count him in. I'm watching him for a while and I can't comprehend either he is an Idiot or an Angel.
- Uh… yes - Mart raised his eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully - I am wondering from time to time, but that wasn't what I was going to say.
- You said you haven't got friends.
- Yes.
- Well?
- When we started all this band stuff, it was like a method. They laughed firstly, and then it became the way to win respect from people around.
- I know this respect stuff. I was a punk. I fought the law and I fought narrow-minded morality, and I literally kicked some asses and so on.
- Uh…well - Martin deflected back, resting upon his elbows, he bit his lip – I’d say that I was beaten more often.
Dave laughed.
- Okay, you’ve won. I didn't win very often too.
Martin's teeth sparkled in the light of the lamp. He sprawled, touching Dave's leg with his and put his hands behind his head. Remains of the cigarettes were smoking in the ashtray.
- Still, that’s a paradox. The more people surround you, the more you feel you're alone.
- You're not alone.
- Am I?
- No. Not alone. - Dave said firmly and stood up. - Enough dragging upon the floor, Mart. It's time to sleep.
Martin shook his head. Dave extended him a hand.
- Ok, chuck. You won. I will lay beside you and I will protect you from some dreadful monster from the dark and it won’t bite you. Our score is One-one now?
Dave went out of the bathroom wiping, drew the curtain, turned off the light and slipped under the blanket beside Martin.
- Good night, little baby, - he said and kissed his ear.
- Good night.

Chapter 5

Andy picked up a newspaper from the coffee-table carefully and set his glasses on his nose straight. There was a two-years'-ago picture of Dave on the centerfold. Dave tragically buried his face in his hands, he was sitting there so sad with his touchingly thin arms, decorating the fresh sensation article about his decision to leave the band or so it seemed. The article was full of harrowing details about his life as a sheer misery in Depeche Mode. Fletch was reading with a thrill the tragic novel of the absence of common understanding inside the band, he almost cried deeply touched by Dave’s mourning that they're like strangers to each other, not even friends, colleagues, gathered together only by the common business. He bit his finger while he was reading about Dave's creative personality, who was suffering surrounded by such an unfriendly atmosphere.
Dave in tandem with a journalist had a beastly fling at Mr. Gore a couple of times, starting from lambent jests about his appearance and doubts about his sexuality, and ending up with his exceptionally asocial temper. Fletch considered it unnecessary to read the vivid description of himself, he'd rolled up the newspaper thoughtfully and carefully put it back to the coffee-table. Martin, who was sitting near him on rather torn up by his dog couch, didn't even move during all that time.
- Did you read it? - Fletch asked Martin, though it was obvious.
- Yeah, - Martin answered, without any doubt that Fletch had understood it anyway.
Andy moved closer to Martin, placing his hand on Martin's shoulder. Martin didn't move.
- Did you call him? - Andy wondered.
- No, - Martin answered.
- Call now, - Andy said.
- Why?
- Because of that shit! - Andy said and pointed to a newspaper.
- Dave is a big boy and he's allowed to do everything he considers necessary, - Martin said too insensitive to believe in his sincerity, - Whereas we like it or not.
- He didn't consider any fucking thing, - Andy said, - if you refuse to call, then I will. I don't owe anything to this fucking bugger.
- Andy… - Martin said with reproach.
- Call him! - There was steel in Andy's voice.
- I-I can't, - Martin said hardly audible.
Andy stood up, pushing the table away with his leg, and headed to the phone. He dialed a number, caught a cable with the other hand and placed the phone before Martin, waiting until Dave would pick up the receiver. Martin had made an attempt to stand up, but Andy jabbed him back on a couch rudely.
- Yeah? - Dave said. Andy put a receiver to Martin's ear, at the same time holding a phone aside to avoid some incidents and pressing Martin's legs next to the couch by his, for him not to run away.
Martin had opened his mouth, but then shut it.
- Hello? I can`t hear you. Hello, - Dave repeated, - Speak.
Andy's eyes were like diamond drills.
- Hello, - Dave was going to hang up, when Martin mumbled hardly audible, but obviously enough loudly for Dave to hear.
- W-what for? - Martin asked, it seemed that it was too hard for him.
Without any warning Dave burst into a shower of abuse with such explicit expressions, that Andy could swear he'd learned so many new, interesting and even surprising words and combinations. Some of them amazed him not only with its literal and artistic beauty but with their utterly deep meaning, some of them had made reasons of Dave's sudden hysterical departure more clear, and some of them, it should be said, tangled even more.
Martin had suddenly pulled the phone out of Andy's hands and crashed it upon the wall with unexpected might.
- Mart… - Andy stepped back from the table carefully.
Martin didn't lift his eyes up. He seemed not to contemplate at all, his face had blushed and he could hardly breathe that second. Andy stepped back just in case, and Martin, slammed the door, flew downstairs at the yard.

C'mon and lay with me,
C'mon and lie to me,
Tell me you love me
Say I'm the only one.* 'Lie to me' by Martin L. Gore

It was cold and not a star could be seen through the heavy black clouds. Tears were rolling from Martin’s eyes, but hardly from hate or anger. They were just rolling. Martin headed for Unter-den-Linden moving by the side streets, wrapping in his sweater his teeth was chattering from the cold.
He remembered, he was standing in the corridor, in some hotel during this stupid tour, he didn't even remember where, but he remembered inhospitable coldness of the wall under his back. Dave approached. Just came closer and put his hand between Martin's legs. Taking away his ability to breath with the warmth of his hand. Taking him down into the exciting rhythm of his up and down movements. It seemed a lot cynical from the point that Dave didn't feel any embarrassment from his acting and didn't try to add even a little piece of tenderness to this caress, because as he had said:
- Hell yeah…, I'm already fucking hard as a fucking wood.
But he didn't lose control, he was just caressing him. Caressing. More and more. Martin opened his mouth, trying to catch some air like a trapped fish. But he couldn’t. Dave's mouth crushed his mouth in a moment, not letting him breathe at all, but filling his body with tickling velvet warmth. They were kissing intensely and deeply, savoring the taste of that kiss, desperately gripping each other. Martin jerked his jeans belt off, Dave squatted down and words became useless again.
Dave was stroking Martin's hips, tightly in his jeans. Martin undid his zipper. Dave kissed his hand, when Martin grasped his own cock to give it to him. Dave took him into his mouth without any delay, scorching them both with dizzy waves of the hot excitement. He began to rub his own hard on through his pants, unable to bear the tension, increasing with every contact between his swollen lips and Martin’s hard instrument. Dave grasped Martin's cock with his free hand adding more stimulation to his caresses. He pressed it against mate’s belly, slowly licked underside from the base to the shaped head, and down again. He removed his mouth and moved his head back to admire his progress in this tender task.
Hardly breathing Martin gripped Dave’s hair, moving his head back to where he thought it better should be, making Dave to suck him, harder, fucked his mouth as deep as he need, finally filling Dave's mouth with a milky fluid, so well-known because of the content of a genetic material in it.
Martin pushed a can with his boot, scaring a rat that was dining comfortably near the rubbish heap. He was shaking but not from the cold. What was making him mad about Dave is that he was sure that he could tell him everything that he thinking about and even what he didn’t thinking. Oh, but how he can say! He could say in such way that everybody gets sick to hear. Dave never been a person who thinks much how it needs to be said, but his natural born talent was to say something in such way, that his every word could make you crazy and cut you like a knife. He could let him down so Martin could loose his senses from the raging fury. It would be better to stay away from him, never hear his voice again. Martin knew that he could make him to loose control. He wanted him to loose control. Martin knew already what it feels like. He knew how it happens usually. He knew Dave was making him stop thinking, stop hearing, stop seeing a human being in front of himself; he made him just desiring to squeeze Dave’s head and push it into the brick wall hard, only to manage this cunt to shut the fuck up. The more blood and brains would stay at the rough wall – the better he will feel. He was afraid of his own thoughts, trying to come back to his senses; he was trying not to listen to Dave, reminding himself that it’s only words. Only words. Dave hardly could do anything bad to him.
When it happens, Martin seemed freaky to the people around. He didn’t lift up his eyes at all, he was searching for the words, he was talking some rubbish with words like, I think, probably, maybe, very slowly and with visible difficulty. Guys in the band always laughed at him because of that. Only Fletch didn’t laugh, because Fletch knew him really good. He always tried to appear somewhere near, at his side just in case if anything happens he could prevent homicidal attempt or something.
However later he recalled the other things.
Dave near him. Dave’s lips on him. Dave’s eyes, they were shining, they were burning, Martin couldn’t believe that this light destined to him. They radiated warmth and devotion as if Dave looked at the only miracle he believed. They confided in him with the infidel rapture, sacrificing himself in holy fire to his only god. His happy smile, when he heard Martin’s moans of admiration, caused by his caresses. And Martin knew that he will be down on his knees in front of him again, for no reason, just wanting to this miracle repeat again. Again and again. Begging for more and desiring that it should belong to him only. Forgetting about his self-esteem and pride.
Burning down and incinerate every time when he seen this light and warmth in Dave addressed to one another. It was huge part of Dave’s charismatic personality, that’s for sure, he could look at you and there was true love in his eyes. He can look at people with pure admiration and trust, no one could stand this mix and not to fall in love with him only for that look. Martin never cherished an illusion that in his case this light meant anything special, but he was gracious to Dave that he let him to believe from time to time.
He saw him making love with his new girl, and she was crazy from her black-haired baby boy. Dave drowned in the process as always, and his girl didn’t let him down at that point, she made him groan under her caresses. No it doesn’t mean that Martin didn’t know. But there is a Universe between meanings of the words to Know and to See.
Next time Dave was sitting on the bed in Martin’s hotel room, he just removed his show make up and joyfully telling some scabrous details about his other encounter. He shagged his fan and her curly friend, so they were squealing with pleasure. First half of an hour Martin was listening him gloomily, showing no reaction, although Dave didn’t ask him to react somehow.
- And so it goes, I am fucking her, doggy style and she’s just moving her ass towards, and licking her friend’s pussy, she lying underneath with her legs spread wide, - Dave giggled, - Ya know, chicks making a lesbian show just for me while I am fucking them up their asses. Hell, yeah…, Mart I’ll tell you – that is the fucking reason to become a star. Shit If I was a philosopher I’d said THAT is the reason why MALE should work down the drain like a fucking squirrel in a squirrel cage. Ya know…In those moments you understand that all your damn attempts to prove that you mean something here in the Earth weren’t in vain. See what I mean?
Martin looked at him crookedly.
- Uhm….in general….yes.
- Thank you, my friend, - Dave suddenly was filled with tenderness for him, - If not you – I’d never reached it.
- You are welcome, - Martin said with a weird voice. Dave looked at him suspicious.
- Oh, c’mon… whassup, man?
- It’s ok, - said Martin, - I’m fine. You know, just perfect.
- Hey, chuck, what’s wrong with ya?
- Can`t you lie to me? Huh? – said Martin.
- What for? – Dave looked at him with wide eyed astonishment.
- Dunno, - said Martin, - or just say nothing.
- You are jealous, aren’t ya? – Dave laughed smugly, when he finally got a clue.
- Fuck off, - said Martin harshly.
- Forget it Mart, - Dave tapped his shoulder – An old friend is better then two girlfriends…you know.
Martin grinned.
- Feel yourself like a wife whose husband cheated on her? – Dave laughed loudly.
Martin looked at him frowningly.
- I’ll show you who is the wife here, - he was surprisingly irritated, and his unexpected rage was something that made Dave feel some interest for. He really couldn’t expect that Martin would take his loony stories so seriously.
He stretched on the bed; his eyes were burning with interest.
- Show me, - he said.
- I’ll show you, - Martin climbed in to the bed with his boots on.
- C’mon baby, - Dave giggled, - show me something that I haven’t seen before. O-OUCH!!!
Martin turned him on his stomach, roughly, so Dave hardly could catch a head of the bed with his hand.
- Hey, careful, you there,... it is what are you are knocking down…it’s breakable…ya know it’s fucking fragile…. it’s alive yet, huh?
- Shut up, - hissed Martin through his clenched teeth, clutching Dave’s hair and pulling his head back. Dave froze, he wondered if his trust in Martin was excessive or not. He thought that it was some fear inside him now.
- Oh…shit, - he whispered. Martin pulled his head harder and silenced him with his hand on his mouth. Dave moaned indignantly, trying to break loose and not to break his neck at the same time. Martin held him very smartly; he pressed his body down to the bed, and held his head in a dead grip, it was impossible to move without any risk to Dave’s health. Martin fucking knew what he was doing. Dave managed to bite Martin’s hand which silenced him. Martin punched him, but it caused him to free his grip a little, so Dave was released a little, but soon Martin won back his advantage. They crashed to the floor as a result.
Dave yelled indignantly:
- You will break my neck, you bitch! – He stood on his knees, when he was put into the floor with his nose literally. He desperately felt his pants slid down his hips.
- Hey! That was fucking all done with tender love prelude, huh? – He asked understanding that somehow in their idiotic fight he got extremely turned on, he stop breathing when Martin’s hand slowly and soothingly touched his balls.
- As you wish my little girl…
- Martin!
- Don’t talk to me like this, - Martin slapped him lightly on his ass.
- Martin! MARTIN! MA-ARTIN!!! – Obviously he wasn’t kidding this time because Dave butt started to burn from this tender love prelude.
He almost felt the tears in his eyes from shame when he felt Martin fingering him. He thought he better fuck him rough without all those sophisticated experiments, that made him feel himself like a slut. But at the same time Dave felt the other thoughts flooding his mind, for example the thought that Martin could screw him with something bigger. But Martin continued his movements obviously to make Dave beg.
And soon he was begging. He can`t help it, he was drowning because of all this adrenaline that flooded him before has turned into pure passion essence. Martin complied with his request too soon; he made him yell from pain and physical discomfort that was caused by his invasion. He didn’t care about Dave’s feelings as a matter of principle, it made Dave mad and excited at the same time. Soon he got used to Martin in him, he was moaning now from rapture that was burning inside him, higher and higher with every motion. He started to move towards Martin desiring to intensify this sensation, he stopped analyze what was going on and how it would be better for him.


Actually, that time, in Fletch`s room the grass let them down pretty bad.
Alan probably was overcharged or just bored, but he wasn’t confused by Dave’s and Fletch`s presence, he started to woo Martin, he expected that naturally born gentleman’s respect wouldn’t let Martin resist him. Martin tried to turn it into a joke and Andy tried too. He even tried to kiss him. Alan didn’t object but he continued to crawl to Martin like a young persistent caterpillar. When their lips joined with a deep sweet kiss Andy understood that it was enough jokes for today.
Dave was sitting in his wife’s London flat now. He was staring at his telephone and remembering all the things that happened that day. He recalled Fletch who went out from this room, cursing to himself, he recalled Andy was urging him to go to the bar and drink some whiskey. Dave was telling him about this bastard in the bureau. When Andy tried to make Dave to stand up from the floor and pushed him to the door to let him go out with him, Dave started to bite him and kick him and told him that he was gonna call the F.B.I right now because Andy reminded him of some evil maniac. Andy became furious he told Dave that he fucked himself inside out, watching for those two stupid infantile dorks, taking him for granted. Dave told him that he was wrong. Well, better to say…Dave believed that he told THAT, but Andy hit him and gone without any reason.
When Dave returned to the room where Alan and Martin were, he thought that he has a hallucination. He wasn’t prepared to catch them in the middle of their weird erotic games. No, he wasn’t prepared at all. Bounded Martin underneath infatuated by the process Alan. Dave was deeply impressed, he even crawled to touch those bastards but they didn’t see him at all they were too busy and to fucked up with the hash to see him so he jumped up and ran away.
Then, he wrote this letter to Martin, he didn’t know what he wrote him, he just thought that he should tell him what he was thinking about his behavior and personality and all that, leave this letter on the receptions took his passport and money and just left.


Andy bent his head under the lamp, he was holding in his hands the broken telephone frame, when it rang suddenly.
- Martin, - said Dave.
- I am Andrew, - said Andy.
- Andrew, - said Dave perplexingly and put down the receiver.
Andy plastered up the frame when phone rang again.
- Andy, I want to talk to Martin, - said Dave.
- He`s not home, - said Andy and put down the receiver.
Dave called again.
- Where is he?
- Out.
- Where?
- No idea, - said Andy and broke their talk once again, virtually he wasn’t so eager to talk to Dave.
With the next call Dave became insolent.
- Andy, what was that, phone hasn’t been working for so long?
- Dave we are not married yet, - answered Andy.
- It’s Martin’s phone! – Dave’s voice was trembling, - What happened?
- Nothing, sugar, - Andy said, - Everything’s alright. Everything’s fine, sweetheart. We are fine. We are waiting for you, and missing you. We love you, honey. How’s the weather in London now?
- WHAT THE FUCK IS THE WEATHER? – Dave broke up into screams. Breathed out. Sobbed. Blew his nose loudly, - I need Ma-a-art, - childishly he whimpered.
Dave’s emotions didn’t impress Andy much. He slowly finished repairing Martin’s telephone, carefully examined his work and exhaled with visible satisfaction. Then he answered Dave with Inquisitor’s voice.
- We’ve read your opus, Mister Gahan, - Dave tried to say something but yet useless, Andy continued - I was going to bloody fuck you up your ass for that shit but you was a smart bugger and vanished to London before.
- I couldn’t stay…can you hear me?! I JUST COULDN`T!
- Why’s that?
- Fuck you Andy! It’s none of your business. It’s between me and Mart. You’d better tell me where he is and that’d be all that I need from you now.
- No, fuck YOU, Dave, - said Andy graciously – And you can go fuck yourself, maybe there you will find your information bureau.
- What the bloody hell are you doing there in his house if ya don’t give a shit where he is? – Dave was screaming at him now.
- Why the bloody hell you managed him to go?
- You are lying! You know where he is, you just don’t want to tell me.
- I am not lying, - Fletch wiped clean his glasses with his t-shirt, - Why should I lie? Let him walk around there. It’s eight o` clock, and he`s a big boy already.
Dave was wheezing into the receiver for rather long time.
- Fletch, I am sorry.
- It doesn’t matter, Dave, - said Andy.
- Andy…I can`t stand it anymore. I can`t.
- I know, - said Andy.
- He betrayed me, Andy, I never thought he would. Like…that…he… Please tell me, because I need to know. Is he with Alan now? Is Alan there?
- It’s Martin’s and his wife’s apartments, - said Andy, - Her name is Christine, besides.
Dave sniffled.
- Fuck, I’m already insane, you know?
- He betrayed you, - said Andy and that wasn’t a question.
- He did, - said Dave.
- Although he can`t live without you.
- Oh, c’mon… – skeptically.
- Like you think you can…
- Shit, no.
- You completed your revenge, then?
Some time passed.
- Yes – finally said Dave, - Hey, I’ve already called the airport. There is a flight to Berlin tonight….Uh…Um…Actually I’ve booked a ticket already. What do you think? Shall I go? Huh?
Soon Christine returned home. She was a little bit surprised by Andy’s presence instead of her husband’s, but Fletch explained her that Martin went out to by some milk.
- You finished all the beer? – specified Christine. She was very pragmatic and realistic woman; - I thought there was another pack under the table in the kitchen. You did that too?
- No! – Told Fletch, - That’s true about milk. It’s my wife, she keeps nagging that I am sitting at home and doing nothing. So I convinced Martin to go to buy some milk.
The door bell ringed, Christine opened the door.
- Martin? – She was surprised to see her husband empty-handed, - Where’s the milk?
- M-milk? – Husband scratched his head with amusement a little bit guiltily just in case.
- MA-A-ARRRRT-I-I-IN!!! – Fletch loudly laughed, - You seemed to drowned in the creation process again. You forgot what I told you? What would you do with him, huh? Genius at work!
He made Christine laugh. And assured her that he will go with him now and everything will be done soon.
- Did he call? - Martin asked him almost at the same moment as Andy shut the door.
- Uhm…no, - said Andy, then he saw Martin’s face and decided to add, - well there was one call but I am not sure if it was him, there were troubles with the phone line. Don’t worry, Martin, I am sure he’ll find a way, so…everything’s gonna be all right.
Morning was bright; sun was already promising to warm up a little Berlin’s streets and Berlin’s houses. Christine was drinking her coffee in the dining-room. Martin was shaving in a bathroom, grumbling to himself traditional monologue of the married man, about his razorblade become blunted, because somebody always taking his shaving things to shave her legs. His aftershave was missing too for some reason unknown. He took her perfume in revenge. He heard some weird noise through the splashing water.
He went out from the bathroom, wearing only shorts and holding a towel near his burning from the long scratching with the blunted razor cheek. He froze. In the middle of his drawing room there was Dave Gahan himself with two suitcases. They were talking with Christine.
- Can I stay here for a while till I find some cool place in Berlin? – He asked Martin, - Your wife is not objecting.
- Oh…well…if my wife is not objecting… - said Martin, held a towel with both hands near his chest like it was his protection, - Holy fucking shit,… Dave, - he exhaled, returning to his senses.
Dave laughed triumphant.

Chapter 6

- Love is such a complicated thing, you know…
Dave was staring at passers-by through the cafe window. Skinny and pretty black-haired waitress poured more coffee into Martin’s cup. Martin was staring at her for a long time, he was thinking.
- When you are a kid you a dreaming of love, you see love like an escape from this reality, as a sanctuary from the world outside, - finally he told.
- Kind of Heaven or something, - Dave nodded.
- Though it’s Hell; - Martin took a sip of his coffee.
- Sometimes I think hell is a lot easier to bear, - gloomily said Dave.
Martin smirked.
- I never thought before, I know, you’ve told me, love is co-dependence – Dave continued, - I just comprehended that now. When you are not in love, you don’t care, who would tell you what. When you are in love every word brings pain. Words kill. You becoming a dependent psycho, that’s true. You are doing things that aren’t good for you. If you were normal you’d never did that. Instinct of self-preservation is dying suddenly when you are in love. Love at some point is the same kind as suicide.
- And the most terrifying thing – Martin followed his thought, - when it’s all over and you are survived, nearly burned, but you will do it all over again. Because without this power you just aren’t exist. It makes life livable.
Children were crossing the broad street near the cafe now; they were yelling, dropping their schoolbags from time to time and laughing.
- Love is strange, - said Dave.
- Strangelove, - underlying the absence of interval between these two words said Martin.
- Mmm?
- The word. There can be Love and there can be Strangelove. Germans lock words together very often and thus words summing up into one another. So meaning of the new word becoming slightly different. Why can`t we do those kind of things in English? Strangelove.
- Holy shit, - Dave said, stirring the remains of the hot chocolate in his white porcelain cup with a spoon, - Such a Creative Nation! If I was born German, I’d create a lot of new concepts and words. You know…
They were quiet for some time.
- May be it’s better for humankind, Dave, that you are not German? – Martin asked carefully.
They both laughed. Dave licked the chocolate from his spoon.
- Besides, how are you?
Martin shrugged his shoulders and clutched his coffee cup in his hands.
- I am feeling guilty for what was happened with you and Christine, - Dave said.
- We’ve just split, and that’s all, - Martin told, - There was no reason to continue. She deserved something better in her life. I loved her, so it was my entire fault. I knew it will end up like this. Not like this, actually, but…you know
- A-ye. In spite of your deep rooted aestheticism you are consciously avoiding theatrical acts …
- I am not an actor, - Martin smirked, - I am a clown. Theatrical acts seem parody when I am acting. Sad Pierrot with the painted on grin is looking dodgy. Everybody would laugh if it wasn’t such mournfully.
- I mean, I am sorry. Shit. Forgive me. I broke your life.
- I don’t blame you, - Martin told.
- No. You don’t blame me, - Dave repeated, - You never blame me. I am always feeling guilt and wanting to hang myself for some unknown reason spontaneously.
Martin lips trembled, his face distorted in a strange grimace.
- I was kidding, - Dave told wary.
- Check, please, - Martin told girl in French, - You know, Dave…I think…probably…well…those two weeks when we were together… Lately after all that happened. It’s seems so stupid, but I think I was happy, - he took a new cigarette from the half empty pack on the table.
Dave nodded and frowned.
- We didn’t handle our love; - he licked his spoon again thoughtfully.
- We never will, - Martin said.
- But why is that? – Dave’s face suddenly revived.
- Dave, don’t start this shit again, - Martin lit up his cigarette exhaling the smoke with his nostrils, - I treasure your friendship. I am treasure you.
Dave’s face pictured the hard work of his mind.
- Don’t you think you can get rid of me so easily?
Martin quirked his brow in amusement and smiled. The waitress brought them their check and he paid off, not letting Dave to do that.
- It doesn’t matter, - he told, - We are talking about me all the day; we’d better stop it now. I’ve heard you and Joanne will have a baby soon.
- A-ha, - said Dave. Actually that was the reason why he called Martin to meet him at the cafe at Champs d’Elysees, - but somehow he forgot it.
- That’s nice. My congratulations.
- A-ha, - said Dave, he couldn’t find words.
- Let’s go? – said Martin, he took his coat from the hall-tree.
They went out Martin wrapped up in his coat and waved down a passing taxi. Dave was standing near him; he put his hands into pockets of his grey topcoat, feeling unsure what to do. He lived in the other side of the Paris so he should go to the different direction in any case. And in any case he didn’t want to. Meanwhile, Martin waved him goodbye and got into the yellow car.
- Bye, Mart - automatically said Dave.
Tires crunched on stone-set roadway, the taxi started. Dave run for the car making taxi’s driver curse him and stop the car. Martin opened his window. He gazed on Dave questionably, but said nothing.
- Uhm…you know…it’s…like-a, - Dave forgot what he was going to say, - I forgot. Look Mart, I wanted to tell you that I …that… oh, well maybe you fancy a beer for tomorrow night, huh? I know there is a nice place over here…
Martin closed his window in silence and car moved away. Dave stood near the pavement, wind was blowing yellow leafs around him; he looked at the direction where Martin’s car disappeared. Desperation hit him at once. Desperation dark and deadly. Useless. Everything became useless. He shrugged when he felt someone touched his shoulder, he even jumped off.
- Gonna end up your life hit by a car, you Degenerate? - There was Fletch near him, he was smiling.
- Ouch… you scared my balls out, asshole, - Dave exhaled.

Tomorrow they met at their Paris studio. Actually it wasn’t a studio it was an old theater that was converted into the studio. They choose it because of its acoustics and all that stuff.
Dave rocked his leg sitting on the chair, Alan was playing with his camera and he was giggling over another Martin’s drunken public striptease. Dave was mad and he was ready to stick this camera into Alan’s ass. And the TV-set too.
- Oh, my, - said Alan through his hysterical giggles, - Dave you have to look at this.
- The fuck I have. I fucking hate it, - Dave breathe out loudly, - Why can`t you keep him from that?
- Useless, - Alan smirked, - It’s useless to manage him to do something. When have you tried the last time?
- Long time ago, - Dave hissed through the clenching teeth.
- What-a-man! – Alan told, - so nice and sweet, asocial and romantic… frightened lamb when he`s sober, although he`s surprisingly pragmatic and cynical person in his depths. But when he got drunk he’s starting to make love to this world in a very perverted way. And he no longer cares if this world is ready to give love to him in return. He wants to communicate to everybody. What a waste, it all ends up in the mornings. Have you noticed that?
- Alan, I’m feeling unbearable longing to hit you in your face now, - Dave confessed.
Alan smirked:
- Relax, buddy. I am your one and only friend here.
- My one and only friend here is Fletch, - said Dave.
- Fletch isn’t human, he`s Martin’s Guardian Angel, - Alan was too serious.
- Grass freaked your brains out, mate? – Dave laughed, - Angels do not exist. First. And Second. Why the hell Heavens would care that much about Martin?
- God moves in mysterious ways, - Alan told.
- Number one on the charts of your top-10 excuses of the year, - giggled Dave, - the fuck you find what to answer. Why does he care about me then?
Alan unwillingly tore himself away from the match Germany-Depeche Mode, he was filming last summer.
- You? – He asked, - It’s easy, old boy, Martin needs you.
- What about you, then?
Alan shrugged his shoulders.
- I just love him, and I don’t care.
There was Martin and Fletch coming through the studio doors.
- You know, - Martin was giggling, - I was in a music store today…
- HOW IT COULD BE?! NO!!! – Dave and Alan forced false amusement both. They’ve heard it almost everyday. When they haven’t heard, they began to worry that Martin might be ill.
- One psycho asked me for autograph, - Martin told them.
- Well, he was a real psycho then, - Alan laughed.
- It happens, - said Dave, - when I was in London one psycho asked me for autograph either. I nearly cried from happiness.
They were laughing now.
- It is very interesting for me sometimes… w-why Miller still endures us? – Quietly asked Martin.
- Perhaps he found our charm irresistible, - hemmed Alan.
- We gained gorgeous popularity, - Dave nodded, - I am keep recalling Martin’s words, should we really gave up our day jobs for that?
- Yeah, Dave, should you gave up stealing your bloody radio recorders from the cars for that? – Fletch threw his wind-breaker to the chair, he was searching for a teapot.
- C’mon, it happened once. Ok. Twice, three times as a maximum. That car you should not count in. It was a bet and I left the car in the next block. I’ve reached my real success in lemonade factory. Mart, you should admit it! How your bank survived your departure?
- They closed the bank and celebrating my departure for three days; - Martin said gloomily and set down near Alan. - They all hated me. But I believe that we shared this deep and mutual feeling. I was agreeing to do something only under the threat of the cruel and unusual corporal punishment.
- You ARE agreeing to do something only under the threat of the cruel and unusual corporal punishment, Martin, - mumbled Alan.
They were laughing again.
- You know what I think? – Fletch said, - I think we have our hundred fans or something that`s for sure. Somebody should buy our albums? Don’t you think that Miller buying them all by himself?!
- Who knows, Fletch….who knows…
- So I was in the music store today, - Martin began once again, when they talk seemed to be over, - I’ve seen a section Music for the Millions, there was some pop music.
- Three of them? - Gloomily added Alan.
- Nah, - Martin shook his head, - I just thought that would be fun to name our album like that…music for the millions…for the sake of our… arrgh… popularity…uh…um….Music for the Masses.
- Where could be a tea there? – It seemed that Fletch finally found a teapot.
Dave gazed at red haired Andy entire day rather suspiciously. At his simple-hearted face, at his clumsy tall frame. Alan’s words seemed like bullshit but he can`t get them out of his mind. When everybody left, he caught up Fletch.
- Hey, Andy, I’ve got nice hash, fancy a joint? – Andy looked at him sadly, - Andy, don’t look at me with the silent reproach, man, even Alan believes that you are Angel here.
- Drugs will kill you, guys, - he said.
- Drugs what? – Dave asked again.
- Drugs will fucking kill you someday, idiots.
Dave laughed out loud.
- Yeapp…That what I told Al, when he talked this shit, his grass was rather shitty today.
Fletch looked at him as if he didn’t understood what Dave was saying. Then finally he comprehended and laughed with Dave.
- Fletch you are a nice guy, you know, even though a humdrum one, - Dave tapped him on the shoulder.

I want you now
Tomorrow won't do
There's a yearning inside
And it's showing through
Reach out your hands
And accept my love
We've waited for too long
Enough is enough
I want you now *

- This is my girlfriend, Susanne Boisvert, - Martin introduced her. She shot Dave down with her dark eyes and shook his hand far too aggressive and too confident for a girl.
- Shark, - Dave told Martin his point of view, although they had gentlemen’s arrangement not to discuss each other’s girlfriends, - Keeping her reward and happy now. Female predator. Standing here and telling everybody “He`s mine. And don’t you dare stay too close!”
- You better keep you mouth shut, Dave; - it was the first time when Martin let himself talk with that threat to Dave, as far as Dave remembered.
Dave froze; he couldn’t find words for the first time of his life. He was watching while Martin closed the door and left.
- You… cad! - He told to the empty room.

My heart is aching
My body is burning
My hands are shaking
My head is turning*

Dave was shaking. He was sitting here in audio operators’ room, his teeth were chattering. Fuck his fucking fuck, what was going on with him again? He was rude to Joanne; he obviously was treating her bad. She was very pregnant and she always starts to cry without any visible reason. He became mad even more. She asked him when he will be back; he told her that there is a lot of work here. She told him that she missed him, that she jealous of him, he told her that he is here to make his money but not to shag whores. She told him that she became fat and he probably wouldn’t love her anymore if to think that French girls are so slim and beautiful, he tried to sooth her, calling her my stupid cow, he told her that she’s the one he loves, so she cried more and more, now perhaps from happiness. She kept on calling him at nights and managing him to call her more often. She told him that she’s afraid to sleep alone and that when she was in the baby store and saw there a lot of nice things for their baby. Dave cle
nched his teeth and suffered well. He became drunk blind between their talks. So for the third call when she was asking him about the baby’s name for the tenth time a day if it will be a boy, or what if it would be a girl….well, he honestly tried not to snoring too loud into the receiver. His phone bills became fantastic. He hadn’t had enough sleep, Martin and Fletch jeering that Gahans’ pregnancy turned out to be difficult to them all.
There was a dreamy expression on Martin’s face now. His eyes were sparkling. Dave hoped that it was a just a creative process. There was a lot of new material now. They had to choose songs from fifty or so demos.
Susanne was meeting Martin every evening at the studio. He was tramping abashedly to her with tiny steps like a Geisha-girl on her first date. Then he grabbed her ass with both hands not in a girly style at all, she laughed and they began to kiss, deeply and intently. Until Kessler was advising them to get their asses out of here.
Dave and Alan were walking down by Paris’ streets. And once they saw them at the street cafe. Low Autumn sun shined brightly, Martin and Susanne were kissing, sitting so close to each other by the tiny table. They were holding each others hands. Martin gave her red flower, sold by a street vendor. Susanne’s cap fell down with the playful wind blow, her black long hair tousled in the air. Martin picked up her cap from the ground, scaring impudent Paris’ sparrows around the cafe tables. Someone romantic would say – What a beautiful couple!
- Oh, you fucking doves, you, - Dave told.
Alan said nothing he turn his head away from them.
- Look Dave, over this bridge it’s the Royal Prison, - he pointed out with his finger.
- So you left us for her?
Alan laughed. He laughed so hard there were tears swelling in his eyes. Dave failed to see any humor so he had to explain.
- Dave, I do love you, - finally Alan said, - you know there is a funny story. Two French’s met. The husband and his wife’s lover. One told to another “Can you imagine it? She’s cheating on us!”
Dave forced a smile as hard as he could.
- Let’s visit the Bastille, Dave; - said Alan, - I hope there should be Torture Chambers with racks, iron maids or something. I believe it would help us to relax a little.

Do you know what it means
To be left this way
When everyone's gone
And the feelings they stay *

- Martin are you sure that you can play accordion? – Thoughtfully asked Alan.
- Yes I can - said Martin.
- Can you?
- I can.
- Sure?
- What is it, Al?
- It’s nothing, Mart. It’s just I am listening it entire day. You’ve plagued the life out of me with that sound, - Alan told, - Are you sure that there aren’t any other keys on it?
- Wicked, huh? – Martin giggled; - It sounds like you are shagging someone on some old spring bed.
- Hah…that’s true, - Alan said.

And I don't mean to sound
Like one of the boys
That's now what I'm trying to do
I don't want to be
Like one of the boys
I just want you now

Alan sang along with the rhythm of the squeaking springs and hoarse breathes or so it seemed.
- THAT`S IT! – They roared both.

- Where are Martin and Alan? – Dave yawned, it was so warm in the sound operator’s chair, and he almost slept.
- They went out to buy some porn, - said Fletch. Miller was visiting them, just for several hours, he was tired, just from one plane to another; he was scratching his stubble and gazing on the computer screen.
- WHA-AT? – Dave almost broke his jaw with his yawn.
- Went out to buy some porno movies, - Fletch repeated, - They were hit by the brilliant idea that they need an obscene female moans. They recalled the only place where they can find them. Porno movie.
Miller tapped Fletch`s shoulder.
- Children grow so fast, - Daniel said, - Remember, what it was like yesterday…they went out to toy’s shop, to buy bunnies, ducks and whistles for their first album. Then there were auto junkyards and railways. Today where are them? In the sex-shop, looking for some porn.
Fletch giggled.
- Dave, have you decided yet, where to hide new dodgy bondage that Mart probably will find in SM department?
- Daaaaamn, - Dave moaned, - Stop jeering! I can`t stand it anymore. You know, I am a strong man, but I can`t. Last one was a little bit too much.
Next day two great musicians appeared, overloaded with the movies, they’ve seen previous night. They faces were tired and they lips were swollen. Perhaps from the hard work. They asked Dave:
- Could you…errm…moan here…?
- Should I suck you off too? – Not so kindly Dave asked them.
Fletch clipped him on the back of his head and Dave obediently went to moan there.

Dave crawled to the Martin’s and Susanne’s flat pretty drunk. He took a big bottle of whiskey with him. He was drinking from it from time to time and giggling. Sun was down. Night fell. He could see full moon through the hall window. Martin was back.
- Dave? – He was amazed.
- I-I`mm waiting for ya, chuck, - Dave said.
- Dave, I doubt that Susanne would appreciate the fact that you are sitting here boiled.
- A-a-a-a…no-no-no, Martin, - giggled Dave – Master Boisvert isn’t home,… she’s out for a week…Dave asked…consy..conse..con-cere-ge.
- Concierge.
- Conf-s-fs…ok, doesn’t matter.
Martin opened his door with a key.
- Sir, may be you need a puppy? – asked Dave, sitting with his back close to the wall, his eyes were shining like two black pearls on the sun even in the dim light of the hall.
- Dave you should go home and sleep, - said Martin in a fit of temper, he tried hard not to look at Dave. He knew if he’d do that, he would loose this game before it started.
- Sir, take your puppy home, - Dave wouldn’t surrender so easily, he got down on all fours, and intently clutched Martin’s calf with his jaws, - He`s a good puppy. He can shit everywhere, bark without any reason, bite you, break your furniture in pieces and your life too. But in his very soul he`s nice and kind and he desperately needs a master. Take him, sir.
Dave bit his leg again.
- Oh shit…, - Martin moaned, - The hell you can go anywhere now…
He grabbed drunken Dave by the collar and dragged him in. But Susanne shouldn’t worry. Dave was sleeping all night with the white porcelain throne in the toilet. His body can`t stand alcohol as always.
It was rainy morning. Martin woke up, reluctant to open his eyes, took a shower, dressed up, and tried to get his hair done, but failed, and decided just to forget it. He opened the door of his room.
There stood Dave. He was wearing underwear and an apron with lacy stripes. He held a plate in his one hand and fork in his other hand. He intently chewed a piece of fried bacon.
- I am hungry like a wolf, - he explained.
Martin looked at him suspiciously.
- Why are you naked?
- Uhm…my clothes…well…kind-a became all dirty and stained. Well I put it into the laundry washer. Mart, - Dave was chewing thoughtfully, - There is The Elephant Woman in your kitchen. I am wondering if that’s ok for ya?
- Oh, no… - Martin gripped his head, - My housemaid. I forgot. For how long is she here?
- Not that long, - said Dave and pinched omelet with his fork, - I was already cooking my omelet when she entered the kitchen.
Martin hissed, picturing in his imagination the scene with Dave in the underwear and the apron, frying bacon, and his housemaid looking at him in silent wonder. He hopelessly gazed at the window.
- Estimating what happens if you will decide to throw yourself out of the window? – Dave was fully appreciative, - It’s useless. It is the first floor. I’ve been thinking about it before.
Martin looked at him weirdly.
- Wanna some bacon, chuck? – Asked Dave, handing him a fork.
- Piss off, - hissed Martin.
- Don’t be mad at me. I forgot that you don’t eat meat.
Martin pushed Dave away and headed to the kitchen with gloom determination. Dave followed him with his plate.
- Martin, - he told, - Have you ever thought that those tiny red tomatoes are crying out from pain when you are biting them?
Dave almost bumped into suddenly stopped Martin. Martin gazed at him slowly above his shoulder, maybe there weren’t enough light and may be there was another reason but his eyes turned black from green. Right at the moment Dave believed that he will hit him now. Rather painfully.
- Yes, Satan? – He asked with the sweet voice, looking at Martin eyes like a real servile flatterer.
- Heh-Heh-Heh, - Martin suddenly laughed perhaps he sounded rather self-satisfied.
Dave exhaled, he could breathe again now.
Martin introduced him to his housemaid like a colleague. Well, that was exactly what Dave understood with his school French Course. And he understood that The Elephant Woman’s name is Lora too, and Martin gestures let him to know that she will help him to sort out his accident with his clothes. Martin told her that Monsieur David was feeling like shit previous night.
- Yeah…you know…I kind-a poisoned myself with your damn stinking French cheese.
Dave was nodding joyfully. Martin painfully hit him under ribs. But Madame didn’t know a word in English, so she was just smiling at Dave diligently.
Lora slowly retired soon, swaying her tremendous backside into the corridor. Martin went to the coffeemaker and poured himself coffee. He took a croissant; Loren brought them from the bakery right away, took his coffee cup and went out into the dining room. Dave threw his plate into the kitchen sink, thoughtfully wiped his hands with his apron. He poked cherry jam in the jar with his finger, then licked it.
Dave followed Martin into the dining room, then changed his mind and returned for the jam. He set down to the table near Martin.
- You think I am idiot? – He asked devouring his jam without any spoon.
Martin chewed his croissant pensively.
- I think we are idiots both, - rather peacefully he told. Much more peacefully then Dave could expect.
They were sitting here in silence for some time.
- Martin, - finally said Dave, - You know…it’s just…well…we are already fucked up here, anyway, without any reason. I know, I know it’s my fault again. I just thought…maybe…we could fuck now, huh? So it all wouldn’t be in vain. I mean it would be the right reason then.

You understand
It's so easy to choose
We've got time to kill
We've got nothing to lose * I want you now by M.L.Gore

Chapter 7

- Our airplane is passing the turbulence zone, please remain in your seats, - female voice in loudspeakers announced.
- Martin, wake up! - Dave jabbed him with his elbow, - Our plane is crashing down.
- Uhm… why the fuck did you wake me, then? - Martin yawned desperately. He took the sunglasses off and rubbed his eyes.
- Oops, - Dave said, when the plane had got into the next air-pocket.
- Stewardesses are pale and senseless? - Martin asked idly, looking at Dave.
- No, - Dave replied, turning back and looking in a cabin passage, - girls are pretty lively, sitting there and laughing.
- Relax then, - Martin said and stretched himself, - To be honest, I've changed my attitude to the process after me and Alan nearly was fucked down with our plane…uhm… we was flying from Spain I think. Hell knows, what had happened, probably it was an engine conked out, or something else, but everything was rather shitty. Stewardesses were crawling through the cabin. Somebody even more pessimistic then me, was suggesting that it would be better to grip passports in our teeth to make the further remains’ identification easier. I've said goodbye to life with deep warmth then. I think I've relaxed a little since that, perhaps, if I was destined to be fucked down with the plane, I'd did it already.
- It was just some Magnificent Fucking Holy Shit following us that time, - Dave said, - I remember that day, the plane crashed down right before my eyes, when I was driving my car, I've never thought that it could be like that.
- Oh…so HE missed twice then, - Martin hissed through clenched teeth.
Fletch laughed out loud.
- Dear Lord! You saved me three times, WHAT FOR? - Dave exclaimed comically, - I've just changed for good. Fletch, tell me, by the way, are you afraid to fly?
- Oh, Yes, - Fletch replied, - I’ve always told you, this is the least normal way of travelling in my opinion.
Martin looked at his watch.
- It seems we will soon be home.
- Oops, - Dave said again, and coupled his hands on his chest, - God save us!
And really, soon the air hostess announced that their plane was landing. Dave had finished praying Our Father when the chassis touched the landing strip, and exhaled. Martin and Fletch clapped idly. The plane had stopped, the boarding bridge was adjoined. vDarryl, Martin's bodyguard, was already waiting for them at the boarding bridge. Not far from limousine. Martin was following Fletch and Dave. Usually it was sunny in Santa-Barbara, but now the sky was covered with white patches of the clouds.
- Listen, Dave, - Martin said suddenly, when Dave had already set his leg to go down the ladder, - I wanted to tell you something.

- Yes, Mart?
- Well I… - Martin rubbed his neck with some embarrassment, - I was there.
- Excuse me?
- At your door. I…I don't know, it appeared to me that you'd go out at the moment. I don't know why I'm telling this now. But I believe I should say I was there.
Dave froze. His hands were shaking. He caught the air convulsively. But still it wasn't the right time to show his feelings.
- Look, - he pointed to the sky with the weak smile, - Our Cloud of Doom hasn’t appeared yet?
Martin laughed.
- No, Dave. Probably it’s just not ours anymore.
- I’d prefer it to be truth, - Dave said.
He settled down on a leather seat of the limousine, stretching his legs with a whine, Martin had settled in front of him, getting the cigarette out and lighting it. Fletch sat down from the other side, near Martin, as usually. The car started smoothly.
- See, Mart, - Dave said, looking at bare rocky hills near the airport, when they were moving to the highway, - It’s kind-a…good for me that our plane didn't crash down. It would be a great pity for me to die in ignorance.
Martin coughed as though choking with a smoke, but said nothing.
- What are you talking about? - Fletch wondered.

Soon this Oblivion turned out to be a New Boom. It was like a dream. Strangelove exploded in United States. Anton Corbijn, Danish queer fish, though a long time adored one by Dave, agreed to work with them. He rejected them before, unwilling to spoil his reputation, collaborating with the sloppy pop band. But now he changed his mind. And Anton was absolutely spellbound by Dave when he met him.
He was shooting the Strangelove video.
- Women, - Alan Wilder commented the video, - Guys, perhaps we achieved the higher level in our ontogenesis. We’ve got women.
- Heh-Heh-Heh – said Martin Gore.
He loved the result. But he didn’t like Anton Corbijn. He didn’t like Anton Corbijn because he was hanging around Dave and because Dave regarded him with his favor. Dave was looking at Anton with his wet shiny eyes, charmingly naive and playful like a little sweet puppy. Anton was burying down under the spell of Dave’s Charm he just melted and he didn’t even try to resist it.
- Grreat Moddell, - he was telling with some weird wooden accent, - Ddave iz just perfect. Pperfeckt.
Dave was laughing, clutching his shoulders and dragging Anton away. Sometimes he was heartedly aware of Martin’s unblinking snake stare at famous photographer.
Strangelove exploded again with the video, so they signed contract. Daniel felt some kind of relief now so he brought them to Dave Bascombe’s hands for the recording of a next album. Dave’s son, Jack Gahan was born. Dave nearly died from happiness and tattooed his name in his hand. He was like a hen with one chicken, he tried to bring a baby with him into the studio when he could, but if he couldn’t he brought his photos.
- This is my baby Jack, he`s sleeping….and look he`s trying to sit down already,…check it out here is Jack and our cat,….Jack and daddy.
- Dave, who are the happy mother? You or Joanne? – insisted Fletch.
- I bet, Dave, - answered Alan, - Dave, are you breast-feeding him or are you feeding him from the bottle already?
- Beer can? - added Martin.
- You idiots, - Dave was offended, but it all happens tomorrow all over again from the start.
Inspired by the baby theme they were re-shooting with Anton “A Question of time”, then “Behind the wheel” and “Never Let me down”, and everything has been changed. Fans were swarming around them, French, German and others who arrived only because they knew that Depeche Mode was there. Yes, they were jeering about their hundred but absolutely mad fans. But Anton helped fans to worship Depeche Mode, adding to their music and emotions Their Own Symbols, that became kind of fetish for the fans. They used to tell that there is a lot of humor in Anton’s works, but anyway fans were refusing to see any humor in the symbols that became almost religious for them.
Daniel was laughing now about Martin’s joke about the “Music for the Masses”, he must admit that it became some kind of prophesy. In time with the adoration there was a time to think about the limitations for their personal freedom. Journalists were interested in them now, even to much, even British one, that was ignoring them before, but Guys became revengeful.
They arranged some kind of a puffy press-party for them, in some Victorian stile suite, and they outdid themselves. Martin refused to talk to journalists in the beginning, he took a recorder with himself and all the time played the melodies and one was more boring then another. Dave and Fletch was jeering him because of his bad taste in music. They were wondering where he could find those shit from the broad assortment of the modern music for the past twenty years.
- Who could ever knew, that flowers grow up from those shit, - said Alan gloomily gazing into his beer glass.
- Heh-Heh-Heh, - answered Martin Gore.
Then they got rather drunk, mixing beer with wine and wine with beer. Their special surprise, fans, burst into the room, young girls wearing outrageous clothes. They were throwing serpentines and chads around there, they colored velvet curtains with they sprayed paints. Fletch grabbed a cutie blonde girl and crawled under the table with her for the reason unknown. Martin was cutting a serpentine with the fork and knife.
- Moron, - affectionately said Dave and stroked Martin’s dyed white curly mane.
Alan were irritated by those drunken mentally defectives around. Those drunken mentally defectives were irritated by sober Alan. They announced to journalists that their friend is too old, he`s twenty eight already, and probably he is suffering from the Alzheimer’s syndrome.
A journalist girl showed her interest in Martin’s extreme freaky image. Martin said that he`s not a freak at all, he`s absolutely normal, and the most outrageous thing that he ever did was that he called himself in the name of one dude from the French textbook, L’oncle Martin. The girl was rather disappointed from all the rubbish she had to hear tonight.
Then Martin enlisted the support from the fan girls and pushed a magazine photographer with a carrot moustaches onto the table and tried to take off his trousers, the photographer resisted him and soon Martin became bored with him. And he took his own pants off himself.
British mass media was deeply hurt by Depeche Mode from now on.


Anyway life was going on. They started their rehearsals for the new tour in London.
Martin comprehended more and more that he was living on several levels now. There was Susanne. He loved her in his own way. Concurrent to this life there laid another level. Prostitutes. Drunk or sober he became an underground brothel haunter. There were whores and fans too but very occasionally.
Dave and Alan laughed at him from time to time.
- Why pay for sex if chicks are here and willing and you can have them all for free?
They meant groupies of course and all those babes who were sending them their pictures that they loved to watch carefully. Martin answered with his usual Heh-Heh-Heh – which meant at that time exactly – “The fuck I will talk to these two dumbasses who haven’t got a clue anyway.”
The lack of responsibility and no need to any restraints and that was the name of the game. Money – Commodity. There are no debts or make amends. You pay for it - you use it. That was an idea that turned him on. He loved this kind of freedom. He loved to do whatever he wants to. Whether to be aggressive and try a girl’s resistance, or be a nice and kind uncle. He liked it when she cries out from resentment or enjoyment. That wasn’t because he was interested much in her feelings. He didn’t give a piss, and that was it, that turned him on. He loved this feeling of power over another body and that he will never see her face after that. He said that if there was any God he believes, his name is Sex then.
He was enticed by the deeply erotic feeling of the impersonalized sex. People are changing but meaning is not. It was just one long romance for him. The one you shouldn’t prove that you are worth someone near you. Romance, without liability to feel something, to suffer, to care. The romance where there was no need to wake up with your lover. There was no responsibility. That was some kind of the fairy tale with the name “Pure Sex”. Sex distilled and refined, free from the foolish social limitations and restraints.
- I think, - he told Alan once – I think, sex for money, at some point much more decent then some relationships. In real life relationships are built up on weird dependences and manipulations, if to think they could be startlingly immoral. Someone held another on his strings, by using another’s weaknesses, and guilt. You know I think it’s probably just honest. You pay for sex and you get sex. Maybe it’s the most natural and honest relationships that you can ever find in Earth.
- Oh, yeah…I understood, - hissed Alan, - All my miserable life I am paying hell higher price then it worth it.
They began to fight.
It seemed Alan’s nerves became overstrained.
Susanne pressed Martin more and he let her do that, because he knew that she only held him on this side of normality. She personified him some kind of decency in her, and something that he have had in him before, she was the good part of him that he shouldn’t have to hide, he could show her, for example to his family…even to himself. She was a sanctuary where he can hide from himself. However they slept together very occasionally and it couldn’t insult their relationships much, because she never was interested in sex itself. Relationships excited her from the point of having her man near. That’s all. Relationships that suites them both. And as a logical paradox it all brought Susanne over the hordes of the whores, which Martin used, and… well, and he thought he probably loved her.


Alan lit the cigarette with shaky hands.
Their sexual experiments now reached a dangerous point. They became literally and physically dangerous. Martin appeared far more aggressive to him, thus managed him to behave more aggressive too. They were moving obviously in the wrong direction, and the hell they could stop.
Dave went into this tour with Joanne and Jack. Hard to say, if it was his conscious or subconscious decision. He kept his distance from the rest of the band, oddly enough but Fletch was his moral support. He was some kind of elder brother. He was arrogant and looked down on him, and he was strange, but when Dave feels himself extraordinary shitty he always was at his side. He tapped his on the shoulder, jeered at him and asked whether he seen his glasses or not. No, it al couldn’t became easily to bear for Dave but somehow thus Andy made him feel more confident that may be some day everything would be all right.
Alan talked with him so very little. Alan was psychologically tired and that was obvious. Martin grew thin like a starving garbage cat, his face reflected nothing and there was his unnatural over-buoyant grin only. Martin avoided Dave, but Dave knew that their encounters with Alan are pretty alive. He wasn’t happy about it anyway.
Well Alan was crazy about the music and he was a great pianist too. They were making their live after party shows. With Dave involved from the start, but then Dave have had enough of it and left. What offended him most it that it seemed that no one had noticed his absence at all.
They were performing to audiences of fifteen thousand people. Their success was obvious. America embraced them and everything meant to be just fine though the weather was against them. It was raining every open-air show. Storm-clouds were following them, hiding the sun even in the States where there just couldn’t be rain at all.
And it started again inside Alan’s head, those awful nightmares about The Cloud. They were drinking together after one show he told Dave about his nightmare. Martin went out with Fletch to another party; Alan said that he has not enough health for that. Dave advised Alan to repair his roof, to not to let himself to drown in weird fantasies because he just probably needed to visit some psychiatrist. Alan answered that Dave should eat less chocolate, because he remind him of the fat puppy now. They fought each other with visible delight.
Well but Alan screwed up their brains with his Cloud and all in all they started to call those clouds that followed them – The Cloud of Doom.
- Fletch, I can feel it, this cloud….its against us. Fletch you have to know, I am sure you know. We are doing something not right…we shouldn’t have done that. They want to teach us. They…He…or She…There – he pointed to the skies, - Something Out There. I don’t know who is it, I just know he wanted to show us what’s right, but we are too blind to see. This isn’t just a coincidence… there are no coincidences in this world.
Fletch thoughtfully shrugged his shoulders.
- God bless you, Alan, - he giggled, - Why do you think Out There they know what is right and what is wrong?
- But Why then? What for? – Alan’s voice became hoarse.
- Who knows – said Fletch, - who knows. But we have to hold on, right? And if you won’t go with me now, we will miss our sound check then our synthesizers will go in various directions again. And don’t you dare tell me that it’s not your fault and I have to blame those guys, Out There.
When Dave was fortunate enough to escape his sleeping family he was getting drunk blind and announcing to Alan that he still loves Martin, he asked him not to forget to tell Martin that. Alan felt like he was ready to throw up, but he was telling Martin what Dave asked him. Martin told that he thinks, probably it would be better for Dave to be without him.
Alan was finishing two cigarettes packs for a day and his soporifics ending up too quickly. And alcohol too. And this all just stop working on him. He needed to sleep during the days but he can`t sleep at nights. He forgot what is day and what night is. After so many months his round the clock’s turned into “show or not show”. His girlfriend gave birth to his baby he somehow didn’t care much, although earlier he thought he’d die from happiness. It was all so weird like in a different planet. In his Universe there were buses and planes and crazy fans. No, he suggested that there should be normal people somewhere, but he`s seen none of them near. Those ones he was seeing, they managed him to howl and writhe in hysterics across the floor. Psychos, real psychos, with morbid eyes, they were radiating misfortune, desperation and weakness with their each pore. When he saw them it appeared to him that they are poisoning the atmosphere around only by the fact of their presence. Wicked caricatures and distorting mirrors of them four.
And it appeared that Martin was having his fun. He loved that it was him, who was doing it with those people, he loved that it was him who was doing all this with their minds. That he was sort of Mastermind for all that insanity around. This power over brains of the others seemed to be a hell fun for him. Probably he was considering himself as a God or something pretty close.
Dave didn’t give a shit about these philosophical aspects; he needed to be adored and admired, the more the better. He never thought about the people’s minds he saw the crowd that worshipped him. He told that it is like sex and even better. This energy that he felt was radiating from the audience that was something that made him addicted.
- You are grabbing your dick in front of thousands people and they are just yelling from rapture. That’s awesome; - he giggled and grabbed his dick at the next show in more and more obscene manner. Martin didn’t say a word about that but you didn’t need to be extrasensory perceptive to see that he was having his fun because of that too.
Alan’s thoughts were interrupted by the yells and laughter from the halls. Martin stood there drunk with two sluts they were wearing black dresses and heavy eyeliner their hair were dyed platinum blonde. Martin was reeling from side to side but girls tried to keep him steady. The third girl tried to put his card into his door but she was drunk too so she didn’t succeed.
- I need to talk to you, now, - he told Martin.
- Can`t you see I am busy now?
- Busy? With what? – Alan pushed left chick away from Martin – You get you ass out of here – he told her.
- Ma-a-ar-rtin – she whined. But Martin’s attention was absorbed with the fight between Alan and the third girl for his keycard. His shoulders were shaking from giggles. It’s all seemed very funny for him.
- GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, CUNTS, - Alan roared and dragged Martin into his room, fighting with the girls that were too keen to get inside.
Martin stood at the wall and laughed aloud.
Alan went furious.
- YOU CRUSHED ME DOWN, YOU BOTH, YOU BROKE ME - He clutched Martin’s neck and pressed him to the wall, - you two fuckers, you crushed me and fucking spread my guts across the floor.
Martin kicked his hand aside. His humor was over now.
- There is no us both, - he cut off.
Alan was breathing heavily, leaning his back to the opposite wall.
- Oh fuck off, you are always together - he told, - You know that YOU ARE. You are fucking seeing the world pass you by. This world was made to serve you and to supply you with all the things that you ever need. You should admit it; it is exactly your thoughts, huh? What if you are flying too high and it will be fucking painful to fall down?
- You…like-a…shouldn’t give a shit, mate, - Martin crossed his hands on his chest – For it’s none of your business.
- Fuck you, - Alan turned to go.
- Wait, – Martin caught him near the door. Alan tried to fight but Martin threw him off the door sharply.
- That was all that you wanted to tell me? – Alan hadn’t had an idea that Martin can raise his voice like this.
Alan fell down on the floor painfully hit his head to the wall, almost for the black circles in front of his eyes.
- No, I can tell you a lot of things Martin, although I’m not sure that you are ready to hear.
- Speak.
- How long will you torture me? – asked Alan.
- Me?
- You.
- What have I done to you?
- What…you….what, - whispered Alan, - fuck…what. You think I am an idiot? You think I don’t have a clue why are you messing with me? That I don’t have a clue for I am working like your extra conscious, your own Fucking God Punishment and God Forgiveness…I am a substitute for love to you, have a strength to tell me now, right into my face! You can`t build the relationships that you need more then air. You think you’d better die then you’d care how does it feels for the person near. But you are not egoist, oh no, even I couldn’t call you an egoist. YOU FUCKING HATE YOURSELF. And I am helping you to cope with that hate. I am a hangman for you and I am executing a sentence. After that you can rise again and move forward, trampling down and ruin everything and everyone around you.
- Nonsense, you are talking nonsense… - Martin squeezed his teeth. He fell down on his knees near to Alan, clutching his shoulder and shaking him violently, - you…stop it.
- You think you will use me forever, huh? – Alan tried to break free from Martin’s hands; - You think I exist only for your good? Shi-i-i-it, you are feeling bad, you hate yourself, Alan, FUCK,YEAH! ALAN WILL TAKE YOUR PAIN! And Alan would never ask anything in return. Never….You are moving down, lower and lower…you, - Alan caught a breath, - And Alan will cut this abscess again and take all this decay that your best things you ever had turned into, away. Yeah. Alan would save you from yourself!!!
Alan grabbed Martin’s jacket and moved Martins face closer to himself, his lips were trembling.
- Have you ever proposed that I won’t always do as you wish?
Martin’s eyes narrowed, face turned to stone. He was silent for a minute or two. It seemed he sobered a bit.
- You will, - he said quietly to Alan.
- What?
- YOU WILL, - Martin said, - You will do as I wish, as long as I will need you.
But this statement wasn’t enough for Martin, he kissed him. Possessively and jeeringly, cynically even. Alan roared under him and bit his lower lip to feel the salty taste of his blood. He spit on his face to show his contempt ripping him from the inside. Martin slapped him in the face hard.
- I hate you, - hissed Alan, he didn’t open his eyes the taste of Martins blood mixed with his own for his lip was tore with the tooth, when Martin hit him.
- Me too, - said Martin gloomily.
He turned wiping off his blood Alan on his stomach, wrenching his hands over his back.
- You cunt, I didn’t allow you… - he was trying to free himself from Martin’s grip.
- Like I was going to ask, - smirked Martin, - What` up, Al? Why are you so mad? … Something is wrong now? WHAT`S SO WRONG WITH ALL THAT NOW ALAN?
- YOU ARE FUCKING HURTING ME, - Alan screamed, - Let me go! Now!
Martin held him tightly, so he would risk dislocating his elbow joints if he tried to break loose.
- Yes, I think it’s not suits you now, Alan, but I’d say you loved it. You loved to administer justice before, Alan. You was bloody out of you mind when you CAN do it.
Martin spread Alan’s legs with his knee.
- So much pleasure, isn’t it? This one, underneath, at your command, willingly submitting to you. He`s your puppet, he`s yours…you are like a God to him. You are the Destiny.
- Martin you are drunk and you are nuts.
- Whatever… Martin is drunk and he is nuts, - Martin repeated, he wasn’t offended at all, - Ma-a-a-ar-t-i-i-in, - he was mocking Alan’s manner now, - Relax baby, take it easy, everything will be all right as long as you remember who’s the boss here. That’s what makes you mad? You can`t control me anymore? That’s what makes you so mad?

For their surprise Pennybacker agreed to work with them. They decided to make a film about their concert with fans and all that stuff, it was tempting for them to immortalize this phenomenon, they’ve created. Created, actually just on occasion, they never thought about that before, what did they create.
They didn’t believe that it will be possible to perform in front of the crowd of eighty thousands; that’s was hard to imagine. They’ve never worked with the equipment that was suitable on such scale. Big red BONG, that’s how Fletch tenderly called this giant loudspeaker,(that) fell down twice and nearly killed their sceneshifters. Jonathan overdid himself trying to find a lifting crane in California that should be working on Sunday, to hang that monstrous creature still. Alan looked at the window and checked. The Cloud of Doom was there too.
The show has begun. Dave was loosing his voice, then gathering his last strengths and continued to sing. Martin tried not to look to the audience, he was praying for the God to let him die right here and right now, and not torture him more. When Dave started Blasphemous Rumors about the God’s sick sense of humor, the Cloud of Doom burst out with thunder and lightening sliced the night skies. Alan grew pale and almost fell down. There started a thunderstorm that shouldn’t actually happen in California at June at all. Just a thunderstorm.


The tour was over now. Dave was driving his new car across the streets of London. He thought that they’ve got really far apart now with Martin, he never thought that they’d ever could. Since they returned from tour there a wall of toughened glass was built between all four of them. They dispersed onto their houses and didn’t communicate at all. You shouldn’t count on Fletch and Martin of course. They continued to go to their stupid football matches with manic stubbornness.
Actually when it turns out that they mixed together with Martin there was nothing to talk about. Actually they weren’t together there was Man Friday Fletch near. Dave looked at Martin from time to time, trying to realize what was that with them both before.
He turned on the radio, there was the Doors playing.

Before you slip into unconsciousness
I'd like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss

The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
We'll meet again, we'll meet again*

Now it seemed like a dream. He couldn’t tell that he was suffering now. No, he was captivating by success, and his new role of the father. He loved to be in the center of people’s attention, he loved the worshipping and that whole world laid at his feet now. No, he couldn’t tell that he was suffering at all. If they should come through all that, well then, that’s ok, it seemed to be worth it. Let’s say it worth it.
Martin announced that he was going to make his own record, not related with the Depeche Mode label and that’s hurt him. Of course Martin told that there will be an album of the covers of his songs that they four were usually fucking too sick to hear. All songs of his own will forever and ever belong to Depeche Mode only. But that wasn’t an issue.
The main problem was that it all shattered. Alan locked himself in his own studio too; his creative process was even harder to understand to Dave, thought the result was even worse.
Virtually they four didn’t exist anymore.

The crystal ship is being filled
A thousand girls, a thousand thrills
A million ways to spend your time
When we get back, I'll drop a line* The Doors Crystal Ship

So their own crystal ship shattered in pieces.
At the speed of eighty miles for an hour he drove out into the crossroad. An imbecile from the left side missed him at right time. Dave abruptly pushed the brake pedal into the floor, but that was useless at that speed. His car was turned around twice and stopped, crashing into another car. Inertia of the impact was that huge two cars were carrying out from the crossroad and hit some more vehicles on its way. He lost his control of what was going on.
When he returned to his senses, there was a smell of burning and gasoline, he rushed out off the car, subduing the pain of fractured leg. He crept outward, rolled aside off his car; it could blow up in a minute. He saw people running to their direction, he saw they dragged that guy from another car, he was covered in blood and it seemed that he was seriously injured he probably lost his legs or something. Dave fell down, face to the grass and cried. Not from pain. From shock. That was too much for him. That’s all was just too much.


I have to tell you
I ache for you still**

Another half a year has been passed. Dave was listening Martin’s album when his telephone rang. Naturally, he didn’t like the music, but he was listening for the words. He was sure that they held a message for him.

Sequels in progress
We’re growing much older
I’m afraid that I leave
But my pain never goes ** Smile in the Crowd (Counterfeit E.P.)

Martin said from the speakers. And at the same time the telephone rang too loud and sharply. Dave toppled an espresso cup over his trousers.
- Hello, - he said irritated.
- Dave, can you meet me at twelve?
A year has passed. No “Hello” and no “How are you”. Martin, your girlfriend sent me a Christmas card from you both three months ago, I nearly died from happiness. Mate, you are still the same.
- Yes, certainly, Martin.
I can. Of course I can, Martin. Maybe you don’t know it yet that I’d rather kill myself if I won’t be able to.
- It’s nice to hear you voice.
I wet my pants already from happiness. And not literally.
- I must admit, I missed you that much, I was listening to your Counterfeit.
- You didn’t like it.
That wasn’t a question that was a fact, indifferent fact. He wasn’t even offended. Thus there was no point to make excuses.
- No, - Dave admitted, - But there was some phrases that left a room in me for some hope. Of course if you comprehend what I’m talking about.
At twelve, cool wind was lashing against Dave’s face, against trees that shed their leaves and smearing puddles over the stoned river embankment. It seemed that near the river wind was even stronger. Dave turned up his collar as it would help. The river reflected leaden clouds and merged with asphalt with its color. Martin was late. Dave was irritated. He was dancing here impatiently and quietly cursing to himself. Twelve thirty. There was some gentlemen in a hooded coat passed him by he was walking his wet and trembling dog. But after fifteen minutes they were gone too. So Dave remained at the park alone. He leaned to the parapet, looked at his watches and decided if Martin would not appeared at ten minutes he’d left.
- That was a real madness to I ask you to meet me at the park in weather like this, - suddenly there was Martin voice behind his back.
Dave turned to him abruptly, he was going to tell him everything that he was thinking about him all that time, but the sound of Martin’s voice filled him with such warmth making his thoughts melt.
Martin smiled to him confusedly.
- There are no even bums at the park today…I am standing here alone like pointing…fucking finger, - Dave asked, displeased – Where are you gadding about?
Martin looked down.
- I… - he started then suddenly stopped and stayed quiet for some time. Only two burning black oil pools of Dave’s eyes managed him to continue, - I was afraid you wouldn’t come.
- What were you afraid? – Dave’s irritation met with bewilderment.
- That you wouldn't…
Martin looked aside and went silent. Dave grabbed the collar of his jacket and shook him.
- You’d call me and I wouldn't come? You called me and I didn’t come? – Dave’s voice cracked, - Have you ever called me and I hadn’t come? Do you understand what are you talking about?!....Fuck you, don’t you dare cry, - he hoarse, when he saw Martins eyes shining wet, and he felt like crying too.
He didn’t take a second thought he just pulled Martin to himself, crushing his mouth with his. Martin was answering to his kiss with no less eagerness. Dave’s body ignited in a second he grabbed Martin’s head with both hands, not letting him move away, his lips were greedily seizing Martin’s lips, though Martin didn’t try to move away at all. Martin snatched him too, and there wasn’t any power to help Dave to break loose. Suddenly Dave’s brain was pierced by the annoying thought about a dog and the passer-by. He set his hands against Martin’s chest and pushed him off.
- Fuck, we can`t stay here like that in the middle of London and kiss, - he told, desperately rubbing his lower lip with his finger. Against his will his lips refused to stop kissing, they were painfully craving to touch Martin’s lips again. They see separation like an insult, and they were eager to complete their revenge kindling the fire of Dave’s desire higher and higher more.
Martin said nothing but expression on his face was priceless.
- Listen here, we can`t go my place, - Dave’s brain started its pragmatic work, forgetting all previous doubts, there was no time for that shit - Jo and Jack are at home. I guess we can`t go your place either.
Martin nodded.
- Oh no, - Dave moaned, - and the fuck we could go to some hotel, tomorrow our toilet news papers would be shouting about all that. That sucks.
- Fletch, - Martin said.
- Huh? It’s like a sweet Saturday morning and you are suggesting going to Andy and Anna to ask if they let us…
- Shit, no, - Martin interrupted him impatiently, obviously he wasn’t in a philosophical mood right now, - Andy rents a small flat in London’s suburbs.
- Jesus fuck – Dave smirked.
Martin nodded.
- C’mon…
- That way…my car is over there…, - Dave said.
- You drive, already?
- Why not? – Dave shrugged his shoulders, and changed the topic, while they hurried to his car - So, you’ve said that Andy rents a flat?
- M-m-m-m, - Martin purred, - Top Secret. There is no way to Anna to know.
- A-a-a-andy-y-y-y….Our Good Old Andy…Who’d have an idea? Does he… meet someone?
- Uhm…no, I think…. – Martin explained, - He rents it for some whores, you know.
Dave touched Martin’s shoulder, this statement seemed ambigious.
- You are so cynical…
They laughed both.
Fletch opened his door, he was wearing (a)black bathrobe with gold lilies, and pajamas trousers with blue and white stripes and he was wearing glasses in heavy spectacle frame.
- Fletch, could you…uhm…give me keys? – said Martin with a broad smile.
- Who is it, honey? – Anna showed behind Andy’s shoulder, there was a hair-roller in her hair right over her pretty face. She hid behind her husband’s back quickly, when she saw Martin and Dave.
- Which keys? – Fletch frowned.
- Uh…f-f-from from – Martin was stammering without any reason.
- From the second studio… – Dave prompted.
- From the studio? – Andy was thinking hard.
- We need it bad, - Martin said, - Right now.
- Oh,…from THE STUDIO, - Fletch`s face lit a bit, - Of course, no problem, Martin, wait a minute. You both come inside.
- Hi Anna, - Martin said, - you look so fine.
- Idiot, - said Anna, furiously unlocking her hair roller that get stuck in her hair.
- No…I mean it, - Martin was apologizing, - That’s true.
Dave hid his face and tried not to laugh out too loud.
It took a little time to go to the second studio to them, Martin never drove a car but the way was obviously too familiar to him. Dave danced impatiently, while he was opening the door. They went into the dark tiny flat; Dave locked the door and pressed Martin to the wall. He was kissing him hungrily, his lips, his face, his neck, his lips again.
- Shit, I am feeling myself like a teenager, - he said, - finally found a place to fuck. Is there any bed?
- Wicked question, Dave, - Martin even seemed offended a little.
Dave licked his lips and stepped back room Martin, he removed the cap from Martin’s head. Took off his own shoes helping with the one foot to another, threw his jacket under the drawers, and went into the bedroom. Well he actually tried to throw his jacket ONTO the drawers, but failed, and decided that he had little time to pick it up from the floor.
The flat was really looking like it was rented for the only one purpose. The living-room was almost empty, there was a picture on the wall of some modern artist, amazingly scabrous, and there was a black leather sofa and a fake chimney at the opposite wall. One door lead to the small dining room combined with a kitchen, and the second door lead into the bedroom.
Big bed occupied good half of the bedroom. Dave jumped onto the bed, covered with the counterpane imitating the tiger-skin. It seemed to be rather clean counterpane. Martin delayed, he turned on the heating. Then he stood there for the long time, thoughtfully rubbing the back of his waist, gazing nowhere.
- MART! – Dave shouted at him, - Fuck you, Mart come here, NOW! – He opened his embraces, and softened his voice; - Do not drive me mad even more.
Martin giggled and climbed up onto the bed into his embraces.
- Yes, master, - he gave a kiss to Dave, grabbing his crotch. Dave unfastened their lips with a smacking sound; smile curved his lips, though he tried to stay serious. He turned Martin into his back, repeating Martin previous manoeuvre.
- You are playing with fire, - he hissed.
Martin’s moan hit his nerves hard, because of its unconcealed and impudent indecency – it seemed that Mart was far too eager to play with fire. Dave took his hand away from Martin’s crotch and stood at his fours over him. They were kissing again, hot and greedy, not able to quenches their thirst for kisses.
- I fucking missed ya, - said Dave.
He pulled off Martin’s sweater and shirt at once and jerked free buttons of his own shirt. He let himself to perform a little show, by sliding silky material down by his back with moving of his shoulders. Martin was smiling broadly. Dave knew Martin loved his shows.
He curved his back and rubbed his naked skin against Martin’s naked skin, making them caught their breath. And once again that was a joining of their lips that shouldn’t have been interrupted. Martin was moving underneath him, too insistent and may be rather too aggressive then it was needed. Probably he had his own plans for Dave too. Dave held his shoulders still.
- Hush…baby…hush, Uncle Dave will do everything.
Martin whined not agreeing with Dave. But Dave wasn’t in the mood to yield. He was stroking Martin’s body while kissing his neck, slowly and tastefully moving his mouth over Martin’s shoulders and collar bones. Familiar scent of Martin’s skin was calming and exciting at the same time for him. It was calming at the point that Dave was feeling himself unbelievably safe and relaxed, letting all the worries outside this house. It was exciting at the point that…it was fucking turning him on. He slid lower, teasing his nipple with his tongue, then with his thumb, then with his tongue again.
Martin tried to move away a little; well it certainly was too intensive. Yes that what he wants him for. No play, mate, now it’s time to work. Dave sucked his nipple quite literally, making Martin twitch in his arms. Dave let Martin push up his thighs off the bed to press himself to Dave the way he needed rather badly now. But not too long …not too long. Dave pressed Martin’s thighs down to the bed again.
- Don’t, - he said, - you shouldn’t do it again.
He kissed his nipple again and then moved his tongue up to his neck and into his mouth. Martin moved towards abruptly, Dave slapped his belly lightly.
- Hey, you kind-a obey me, or I’d have to slap you again, huh? – He kissed Martin more. Martin did it again right ahead.
- You’re trying my patience… - Dave said. Martin grinned.
- Yes I am, - he nodded.
Dave slid off to remove his pants. Then he undressed too, he did it in time they both were too hard now. His fingers slid lightly over Martin’s body from down to the top just to wake his senses more. Dave straddled his chest
- It seems you are in trouble now? – Cheerfully interested Dave.
Martin was fondling his thighs now. His gaze was far lower then Dave’s eyes considering the fact that Dave was sitting on his chest. Dave contentedly stroked himself. He cupped his balls then squeezed his thick erect shaft with his hand. He was sliding with his other hand over his own body, chest and navel, he bit his lip, exhaling, its all was more pleasurable then he could predict. Martin fingers stilled him with their iron grip; his face openly showed that all jokes are over for him now. Dave directed his cock to his lips, inducing his lover to vent on him all his disability to touch himself. And his reckoning was justified; Martin was caressing him for two. Dave was moving his hips towards his mouth.
- Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah…more, - he kept repeating not actually to encourage Martin then to distract his own attention.
He was desperately willing to make it hotter, but now he became aware of his own thoughts. He carefully tried to control every movement of his hips not to let himself thrust his cock deep into his mate’s throat, his sizes let all jokes aside. Martin pleased him restlessly; Dave was seeing only his lips around his cock now.
- Suck me, - he exhaled, - suck my dick, I know you like him. C’mon, you please me. Please me more. Oh, yeah, you know how to make Dave happy. Make me, baby, make me come. Stop whining it won’t take long with such sweet mouth like yours…yeah, right…move it just like this. After that you will get my cock…you know where…I know I know that’s probably not what you wish for,… it’s just I won’t give you a choice. It will be just like that, the faster you’ll finish me the sooner I will help you.
However, the amplitude of his movements grew bigger with the growing tension, scorching out his brains to the Holy Mother. He wanted to make it harder; he wanted to feel his power over him. He was just wanting, not thinking anymore.
- Deeper, f-f-fuck….deeper…I know he`s big...ohh….oii…take more of him. Oh yeah just like this …Head backwards, man it would be easier to you…a-ha… Yeah…more. More. More. STOP!
He pulled his wet cock out.
- Look at me.
He said that jerking off his dick harder, because the lava that was boiling in his balls willing to burst out in leaps and bounds. He didn’t want to come into his mouth; he wanted Martin to see him as he would stroke his shaft in his palm, as his polished reddening surface shining now and the white drop appearing on his very tip….how he…fuck…he was confident that his every movement echoing in Martin with unbearable spasms in the borderline of pleasure and pain, because the position they were in forbid him to touch himself. Dave moaned, covering his hand and Martin’s face and neck with his sperm.
Martin wasn’t looking at him he even turned away, and Dave wouldn’t blame him for that. He was sliding across his lips and face and neck with his dick feeling his orgasm’s afterglow. But he wasn’t ready to stop yet.
- Can`t you see what am I doing with ya? – he asked, not actually waiting for an answer, - I am doing with you everything that I can, - Dave hissed this contact of his dick and Martin’s mouth was still a little bit too much. To be impartial, actually it was Martin who let him do exactly what He was wanted him to do, but nevermind, it turned Dave on even more then the touch of his lips.
He turned Martin on his stomach soon, consciously aware not to let Martin’s cock touch the sheets too close. Martin was so obviously overexcited now that it wasn’t a big surprise that he went inside easily enough. New sensation left him breathless for a second and made him stop for a while, but then he was moving again. Literally after several frictions Martin came, that were be too amazing that he endured even those. His long awaited orgasm added some extra stimulation for Dave, he stopped again revelled his pleasure, but he was actually just getting started so he didn’t have in mind to finish it yet. But also he became aware that his manipulations now could be rather painful for Martin, providing the fact that soon endorphins would melt down with the sloped excitement.
- C’mon…you jerk off, - he ordered, to somehow prevent it.
- I don’t want to, - answered Martin.
- I’ve told you…jerk off, - Dave slapped him lightly on his ass in support with his words, then more, - It’s not for you, it’s for me.
Martin’s hand shrugged uncertainly.
- C’mon, show me, - Dave was reassuring him, - show me how are you enjoying it. Show me, how are you enjoying my cock,… you like him, huh? You need my cock… don’t even try to tell that you don’t. C’mon harder, I should feel it, I should feel HOW BAD you need it, move toward, yeah….right…move….move. I wanna feel it.
He felt that their mutual efforts weren’t in vain at all. They felt senses now overflowing them both. Dave turned Martin onto his back.
- Fuck you, Mart, I WANNA FUCKING SEE IT, - he roared entering him once again. He can see only Martin’s hand on his own cock now. The world outside shrank down into one hot point in his mind, into white hot point of their junction. Dave screwed up his eyes; he lifted up Martin’s thighs, letting his body slid down more, imposing himself on the top of him. Dave was on top, he was fucking him hard now, and he even had a lump into his throat from all that sensations that pierced his body and mind.
- Can you feel it? Can you? Oh…fuck…oh fuck…o-o-oh fuck. Can you feel that you are like one of those cunts for me now, one of those fucking whores, dumb bitches you are usually fucking here, huh? You know now what does it means? You have a …unique...ouch…arrgh...possibility to feel yourself one of them with me. Huh? Do you like it?
He made Martin come for the second time. And he let himself go to pretty soon, this time not into him again. He pulled his cock out and came into his navel, for no reason, it was just a habit gained with Joanne.
Dave went out to take a shower. He soaped himself and stood under the hot water, reflecting upon one delicate question of what he should do now. Get the fuck out of here or stay. Both ways were such great he felt sick. There was only devastation inside him now. The most cynical thing was that he could go now pretty easily. It wouldn't affect their relationships with Martin much. There was nothing in this world that could affect their relationships more then they did before. They were already damaged and beaten within an inch of its life. Their relationships were in coma and actually should have been died already…and they did die and not once. Martin and him was burying them for so many times, getting fucking drunk in commemorations.
Dave was wondering if he’d stay now, what they were going to talk about. There wasn’t any topic in this world that was interesting to them both. They were different persons. They talk different, they act different and they had different views, different valuables, different families and different friends. They weren’t even friends. They had nothing in common, but work and success they achieved. And almost drug dependence from sex. And billions killed nerve cells and tons of spoiled health in the sake of each other.
He fully appreciated the fact that if he would go now he’d bring himself another impact. Just another impact and that’s all. But it would change nothing. They are strong they can handle it. On the other hand he suspected that perhaps Martin was waiting him to go now. That was driving him mad. I am not a whore from Madam Venus’s Brothel, the fuck I’ll let you use me as a confirmation to your brilliant theory of sexual depersonalization.
- Mart, - he called. We wouldn't be waiting for him until he gets showers, anyway.
Martin opened the stained glass door of the shower cabin and looked inside rather indifferently.
- Come here, - Dave told.
Martin moved slowly, closer and closer more, he didn’t say a word. He grabbed Dave’s waist with both hands and trustfully hid his face between Dave’s neck and shoulder. Martin pressed his body against Dave’s and sniffed funny, rubbing his nose against another man’s neck. Agonizingly sharp spasm of sheer tenderness pierced Dave through his entire body, he almost yelled. He clutched Martin’s curly hair and grabbed his shoulders bringing him even closer to himself.
- Tomorrow? – Finally he forced himself to say.
Martin nodded. Well, he tried to, because Dave’s hands held him too tightly.
- Fletch, you are in trouble with your flat now… – Dave laughed happily, feeling Martin’s hands sliding up and down his wet naked back.

Chapter 8

Daniel said that his boys need new impressions and sent them to Denmark to make a new record. Flood became their producer now. When they’ve met, Dave shook his hand and explained Flood that he was really impressed by his work with Tears for Fears; Martin shook producer’s hand too and nodded. Flood and Alan found a common theme pretty easily and it was analogue synthesizers. So they all were rather satisfied with each other.
Flood was funny four-eyes and workaholic and he definitely had a sense of a new hit. He checked all Martin's demos and said:
- Personal Jesus. This will be the first hit. This will be Depeche Mode they didn't know.
- How does it differ from the others? - Martin wondered.
Flood honestly tried to explain, but Martin didn't comprehend it anyway. But he happily escaped from “The screwdriver’s work” because now he was confident that Flood and Alan understood each other far better, and their collaboration would be more then useful. Alan was unpleased but preferred to hide his feelings.
They were abusing World in My Eyes for a very long time now. But it didn't work out right. They were going out at nights. But Flood kept on searching agonizingly even in nightclubs. Fletch and Martin quietly ran out of this intellectual company to a disco. Alan was listening to guy's ideas with interest; Dave was cursing to himself, but nodding gloomily. Occasionally he was having a chance to have some fun, especially when his attention was catching by a half-naked Fetch’s dancing around the pole. Red guy was drunk and he was rocking his hips and throwing his legs showy up in the air rather enthusiastically. Wenches were dancing around and rubbing themselves against him. Fletch licked his finger and rubbed his nipple, girls were shouting now.
- I thought, he is the most normal and decent among you, lads; - it was their Music for the Masses producer Dave Bascombe, who said that when he seen Fetch freaking people out in Paris, - he seemed so good boy, respectable and intellectual, in his glasses… I thought he’s spending weekends in a library, reading science literature. But it appears he’s complete motherfucker.
- Martin Gore is wearing glasses too; - Alan squirmed like he had a toothache.
- Ouch, - Dave Bascombe said, - …I forgot.
So Flood told:
- Ok, if no one likes it, let’s just throw everything away and set back to square one. Give Alan and me three days and fuck off.
Dave thought that was rather difficult to find what to do at the farm fifty kilometers from the city, where their studio was situated. Martin met him at the doorstep, looked Dave right in the eye and asked him point-blank:
- Let’s go and fuck off then, – He went straight to the point.
Dave choked with a smoke, caught a cough and not contemplating what has been going on from that very moment, and trudged along after Martin to the third floor.
One morning three of them were sitting in the living-room downstairs, being at loose ends. Fletch was dressed up to the nine, he was hoping to do a vanishing trick from here to the restaurant, Dave was wearing socks and shorts, Martin was in jeans and baseball cap, because he'd just hated to comb his hair.
- One day I'll shave it off, - he was saying usually.
From the moment when Alan has been engaged into the work with Flood, the fact that Dave was in a perfect frame of mind permanently, surprised even him. Fletch was reading a newspaper, Dave and Martin were gawking at the TV screen. Martin was switching the channels for a long time. There was nothing to watch at all.
- Damn, it really makes me mad, when I don't switch the remote by myself, - Dave said.
Martin looked awry at him, and started to jump through the channels with double energy. Most of the channels were Danish. They had come over a few squabbles because of European MTV. Martin refused to listen to that shit, instead of Dave's yelling. Dave said that he would let Martin to watch the Sports Channel only over his dead body, he said he doesn't fucking joking at all, and one don't have to watch football if he want to gaze at men hugging and kissing each other in shorts. So he got a hit it in the neck with newspaper from Fletch for that. Soon after heated argument they were left to choose between the Weather Channel and the teenagers' serial about the dog-rescuer Lassie.
- Have you ever thought…, - Dave said suddenly, - What year is it now? Nineteen ninetieth? Mart, it appears that I know you for ten years already.
- Sorry? -Martin replied, hardly tearing himself off the collie's adventures on the TV-screen.
- I said, ten years, - Dave repeated, - who could ever think, that we will be together still after ten years?
- Oh, - Martin said nonchalantly, - Yeah… right…
Dave dragged his hand over Martin's shoulder and sang out loud.

When I'm with you, baby,
I go out of my head,
And I just can't get enough
I just can't get enough
All the things you do to me
And everything you say
And I just can't get enough
I just can't get enough * I Just Can't Get Enough by Vince Clarke [DM]

- Oh, no… don't, - Martin screw up his eyes as though his brain was pierced by a drill. But Dave wasn't in a mood to give up so easily.
- Imagine, if not Vince we would never met!
- Dear God, oh, thank you, Vince! - Fletch said, his face was too serious, - What should I do with my miserable life, if I never met Dave Gahan?
- A-ha, - Martin nodded, - how old were we, eighteen?
- I was seventeen, - Dave replied, - I met Vince when I was seventeen.
- Se-ven-teen? - Martin’s voice was so soft and tender it felts weird.
- Yeah, - Dave glanced at him askance and pricked up, placing his arms on the knees, - Why?
- Oh, my…seventeen and you were already whoring at gay-bars… - Martin shook his head.
Fletch laughed out loud. Dave bellowed and pulled Martin's cap over his eyes.
- It wasn't a gay-bar! - He screamed indignantly.
- It was, - Martin said through the cap.
- Hey! How do YOU know? - Dave asked, lifting the peak of the cap up and looking Martin in the eye, Martin endured his gaze.
- Vince told me, - he grinned.
- Ouch, - Dave replied, - well I’d say I tho-o-o-ought that…
Fletch rolled up the newspaper and crossed his legs.
- No, he wasn't there. He didn't go out to the bars. He was sitting at home, reading Tolkien and dreaming about Princesses.
- About Elves! - Martin corrected him with indignation.
- Oh, I am very sorry, Martin, because that’s a huge difference, - Andy nodded.
Dave laughed out loud, covering his face with his hands and shaking his head from left to right. Martin slid down the couch, pulled the cap over his eyes and coupled his hands on the chest with indignation.
- Two times a week I walked him to a church, - Andy said.
- WHERE? - Dave asked.
- Two times a week Fletch walked me to a church, - Martin repeated.
- What for? - Dave was surprised, - to catch mice?
Fletch laughed.
- Perhaps, - he said, - and the second reason, we were singing in a choir with Vince.
- Where else did you suppose to go in Basildon at weekends? - Martin asked, defending himself.
- To the gay-bar, - Dave suggested, making all of them laugh out loud.

You're like an angel
And you give me your love
And I just can't seem to get enough, no * I Just Can't Get Enough by Vince Clarke [DM]

Dave sang out again. Suddenly he was hit by a weird idea. He dragged his hand over Martin's shoulder again.
- Listen to me, you, Angel of mine, - he began, examining the wall thoughtfully.
Martin lifted his eyes on Dave with the sheepish grin.
- How should I take it? - Dave wondered.
- Huh? - Martin replied.
- If I’m not deaf yet, I’d say, Vince…insists that you… uhm…gave him.
- Gave? - Martin’s grin didn't fade out in a bit, - Who? Me?
- Ah, you didn't even give…
- It was me, - Fletch said.
- It was Fletch, - Martin repeated, - It’s a song about Fletch.
Dave shook his head.
- If Fletch is an Angel, I really start to worry how does the Hell look like, - he said.
Dave tore off the reality in his mind and his thoughts traveled back to the past, to the very beginning of their career, before he and Martin engaged each other in this crazy, painful vortex of relationships, which they couldn't escape. The nature of Martins' and Andy's relationship remained a mystery to Dave even now. Oh, no, there were no questions about Fletch and then, he loved girls, and when he gained a free access he started to blow-out. Dave couldn't understand some amusements of Uncle Fletch, but Martin told him about some things, which were rather nauseating at Dave’s point of view.
- You know, Mart, - Dave told him once; - indeed there are things in this life that would better be left unknown for me.
Martin had only laughed in return. Sex in its most obscene ways charmed him not a bit less than Elves’ Princesses. More than this, the dreams about Elves perfectly co-existed in his mind with the TV-show "Good Sex" by Dr. Ruth. He didn't miss an airing. Dave jeered at him.
- You kind-a believe, you can learn something new, chuck?
- What if I? - Martin replied and kept on watching it like bewitched.
Well, but Fletch was a cool bloke.
Once they've got four chicks at their place to spend some nice time. Alan had recently bought a camera, and was extremely keen of filming. He wanted to immortalize everything for the descendants or something like that, Martin jeered him that he just like director’s role in everything.
Uncle Fletch was the star of the Tonight Show. It all started when the tanned Algerian girl made him to stand on his fours, and she was riding him across the room for a long time. Lads have great laughs and they encouraged them and Alan carefully filmed it. Then, Fletch let Algerian lady to whip his loins. Lads weren’t so sure about Fletch, but Alan and Dave took tremendous pleasure from Fetch’s flogging. At the same time Martin was kissing with a dyed blonde in red lingerie, inducing the others to remember a deed. Soon Fletch was lying on a sofa; his cock was looking pensively at the ceiling while two red chicks were elaborating him from both sides. He was smiling from ear to ear and shouting ecstatically:
- Fuck me! I died and gone to Heaven!
Dave has been occupied by the Algerian now. Soon he laid her on the bed parallel to Martin. Blonde was sucking his cock, Dave turned his girl just for it would be easier for Martin to see how he shagging her. Alan was filming the whole process grinning and at the very moment he grasped Martin's nipple and squeezed it hard with his fingers, so not only Martin jerked from his cares but seemed like Dave too. Dave was fucking the girl tastefully, posing for Alan and Martin, demonstratively moving apart her legs in stockings and continued making his inside-out movements as familiar and old as the Universe. The Algerian groaned lowly and aguishly. Since the blonde continued polish his hard shaft, Martin diligently kept his eyes closed, but he couldn’t take it for too long, because cheerful slapping from the wet skin on wet skin made him look what was happening. Dave noticed the movement and grasped Martin's shoulder.
- Ma-a-art, - he purred overdriven - Fuck my chick in her mouth…yeah, c’mon, chuck, do it. Now. Please.
As if Martin could disobey… even if he really wanted to. Martin pushed the blonde off him and left her on Alan’s mercy, he kneeled before the tanned victim of Dave Gahan's passion. Her plump lips took him inside skillfully and passionately. He moaned suddenly, loosing his control.
Dave and Alan contentedly snickered.
- C’mon, you, fucking stallions, keep it up! - Alan encouraged Martin and Dave - Keep it up!
Alan directed camera on Martin's dick, slipping in and sliding out of girl's mouth. Martin sighed again trying to keep his striving groan, not exactly successfully, because the tanned girl doing her best with him, so Martin fell forward on his arms breathing hardly and opened his eyes. As he opened his eyes he cursed everything. He saw it. Right before his eyes. He saw girl's spread legs, her pussy on Dave's dick. He saw his moving inside her, his thick, framed with black curls shining cock, covered with girl's lubricant, she got very horny with the whole process. He felt that he's almost lost his conscious because of the excitement. He wanted them, he painfully wanted to touch them with his lips, and he wouldn't tell under the vicious torture, whom he wanted more now - Her or Him. Alan moved camera on Dave's cock, but Dave noticed Martin's attention which he succeeded to attract. He diligently perfected his show.
He got her on his cock several times slowly, taking him out almost in full length, put his knee under her hips, keeping her opened, spreading her legs wider for Martin.
- Huh…man, take her…
Martin poked his tongue in her without any thinking.
- O-o-oh, yeah, oh, fu-u-uck - Dave continued holding her open for Martin, now all his attention was paid to Martin and to what he was doing with her, - Alan, fuck you, asshole, film it, stop hanging.
Obviously, Martin knew what he was doing with the girl, because her legs soon started to tremble in Dave's arms, she began to groan in spite of Martin's cock in her mouth.
Dave used her lubricant in a very natural way - to enter her from her another hole. Martin felt his moving inside her; Dave ground his teeth and couldn't divert his eyes from his touchingly protruding shoulder-blades. He forcedly seized into Martin’s hair, he just know that he shouldn’t do what his vile and kinky fantasy was allowing him to do, considering the closeness of Martin's mouth. They came all three at the same time with Fetch’s and three other beauties applause and loud Wilder's approval.
Next day they shag some pussy together again. Then they had their fun with several girls to them four, and then there was a room full of whores. It all was too good to stop. Once upon a time Fletch went out from the toilet, scratched his bum thoughtfully, and asked:
- Hey, fellas, uhm…does anybody feels like…you know… it bloody painful to pee, huh?
They confusedly bit their lips and looked down. All three of them.
Daniel very perversely fucked sideways twice four of them, almost literally, because one clever whore told journalists about guys who infected them with gonorrhea and it cost Daniel a fortune to pay enough for to both ancient professions. They were sitting at the bar. Miller was drinking his beer, they four confusedly drinking their lemonade, because they had their antibiotics course treatment. Miller demonstratively gave to each guy a pack of condoms and now Daniel was gazing at Gore, who was inflating a balloon from a condom, freaking out waitresses and not giving a shit about Miller’s furious gaze.
- Dumb assholes, - hissed Miller heartedly, - you fucking don’t know how to put on the condom, huh?
- Condoms are immoral at the point of shagging – Dave said, - It’s like to breathe in a respirator; it’s absolutely against life philosophy, - he was thoughtfully sipping his coke.
Daniel looked at him unkindly.
- So you WILL breathe in the respirator then, - hardly breathing from the burning rage hissed Miller, - Fucking tripper bunny philosopher! Bloody idiots…
- But, - Dave began.
- I SAID, - Miller hit the table with his fist, - No more scandals. Find yourself a chick and shag her senseless in all her fucking holes, but if you ever will fuck a whore, use individual protection facilities.
- You mean… uhm…we should do it in camouflage cloak, or something? – asked Martin Gore.
Miller’s face turned deep red he stood up, leaned over the table his hands clenched into a fists. Fletch hurriedly took Martin by the neck closer to himself.
- Daniel, please, don’t…. - he said quickly, - I will strangle him by myself, ok? Hush, Dan ….he won’t do that again. You bitch, tell, you won’t? - He asked Martin.
Martin grinned as hard as he ever could; it was painful somewhere beside his ears with its tremendous smile.

Even after Personal Jesus they couldn’t expect that Violator would be overdid everything. Miller prepared an autograph session, day before album should be available at the stores. Los Angeles didn’t see that from The Beetles’ days. Kids were standing in line for four blocks long, girls were crying, guys were literally jumping on their limo. Lads, being the reason of this entire riot, looked rather perplexed. So then there were some fights in the line and Police went here to make everything fine. So autograph session was over though it hasn’t even begun, and Police insists that they should leave the building now.
When they went back to their hotel, they couldn’t believe their eyes; TV news was talking about them. They talked about West Hollywood’s riot caused by the Depeche Mode. Miller said – Fuck-fucking-tastic. He couldn’t believe all that. He said you all fuck off me for three days and then he locked himself in his room and got blindly boiled deadly drunk.
- I remember how we met with Joanne, - said Dave, he stood up from the sofa and came closer to the window where lights of night LA were shining brightly.
- Heh-heh-heh, - said Martin.
- Heh-heh-heh, - said Alan and Fletch in the same tone.
- No, I didn’t mean it, - but then again he looked at his colleagues’ kind faces and understood that it would be better not to continue.
- And I remember, Vince and I were wooing Miller. We rushed into the Mute, my hands were shaking, Vince was trembling like a leaf, fuck Miller Himself came into the studio and heard our record! He was sitting there and rocked his leg for several minutes and I thought he likes us, everything’s gonna be just peachy! But just threw us down – I am not interested! He just said and gone.
- Oh, I remember you was violently shaking that time when we warmed up the audience before the Fad Gadget, Daniel produced them at the moment, - Fletch smirked, and took a beer from the bar, - Lads we should drink for that!
- Although when he saw us live he decided to work with us! – Dave grabbed his beer too.
- I-I should say I rather amused by his intuition, - said Martin, - I’d say we played dodgy.
- Yeah, - Alan said, - And I was hooked by your Charisma too. I don’t have a clue, even now, how could I be seduced by your music
Fletch hit him jokingly at the back of his head and handed him a beer. Dave embarrassingly touched Martin’s shoulder.

I’m waiting for the night to fall
I now that it will save us all
When everything’s dark
Keeps us from the stark reality ** (Waiting for the night to fall by Martin L Gore)

They were waiting for the nights like a salvation here in Denmark. The world existed somewhere far aside them. At day they should do their job, they were strangers, but then night fell and it costs it all. And it lasts long. Unbelievably long.
Once at the morning, right before dawn, Dave was smoked meditatively at the balcony. He couldn’t sleep, and the thing that Martin was there couldn’t help him at all.
- What do you think, they know already? – He asked.
- I don’t think about it at all, - honestly replied Martin from the bed.
- You should, - said Dave, - It’s about time.
Martin didn’t answer.
- Do you understand that all things that we are doing is not actually normal? – Dave asked seriously.
- I fucked you before, though you never been under such impression because of that, - Martin said.
- Very funny. Ha-ha. – said Dave.
- Dave, what got you today?
- The same shit as the last ten years.
Martin blanketed his head.
- I am man, - said Dave.
- A-ye, - Martin answered from under the blanket.
- You are man, - said Dave.
- Oh, thank you, David, - Martin smirked.
- If you were a girl I would never ever looked to one another…
- Heh-heh-heh, - cheerfully said Martin, standing up from the bed.
- The point is – I like women.
Martin thoughtfully scratched his nose.
- I know, you too. I know. But my life is very different then yours now. I am a husband and I am a father. You know I never thought about that, but it couldn’t be ignored. I have a son, he is three years old. What should I say to Jack? Jack – you are happy guy – your dad is a bugger, let your peers jeered you to suicide and I loose my carrier just to be some odd freak like Vince? There is a tragic mistake here, in my Destiny. Joanne, Jack and you. I am in the room with the two way door and every way managing me to destroy anther part of me that can’t approve the choice of another. It would be much easier for me if you didn’t mean that much for me, Mart. Bloody hell, I am normal guy. I am normal guy. I am normal. But you are the part of me already, I am thinking with your thoughts and talking with your words I see the world with your eyes…I can’t make this choice, but he repeatedly rising right before my very nose.
Martin coughed.
- I, - he said, - never asked you nothing like that, Dave – Martin tramped into the bathroom, stopping to take a look at the balcony, – And it would be too arrogant for you to honestly believe that I could appreciate the profundity of your sacrifice.
Dave gazed in a horizon, meaning of Martin’s words reaching him very slowly.
- W-what? – Finally he asked.
Martin didn’t answer.
- I said what it was you’ve just said? – Dave raised his voice.
- In very simple words I said “Get the fuck out off here”. - Martin said in a steel voice.
- You, listen here, - Dave’s face blushed, - Have I ever told you that if someone told me to fuck off then I will. And I will never return. Do you understand me?
Martin opened the bathroom door his face was unreadable.
- Precisely.
- So? – Dace asked again, his face was too close now.
- That was exactly what I’ve said, - Martin smirked, - I told you to fuck off, Dave.
Dave gone and shut the door.
Martin hit the rough plastered wall with his fist, tearing off the skin from his finger bones’, leaving the blood stains on a plaster, on his way down to the floor, he didn’t feel any physical pain. He squeezed his jaws, not to bawl, not to howl desperately like a beast, driven into the deadly trap.

You wear guilt
Like shackles on your feet
Like a halo in reverse
I can feel
The discomfort in your seat
And in your head it worse

When our worlds
They fall apart
When the walls come tumbling in
Though we may deserve it
It would be worth it *** Halo (by Martin L Gore)

They were rehearsing this song and Dave felt like crying again. He looked at Martin, but he wore such indifferent look it hurt him more. Arrogant shit. You think I will go down on my knees for you? I’d rather die then crawl to you. I’ll make you respect me, and if not now – then never. I won’t crawl to you, and I won’t go down on my knees.
Again and again.
With the beginning of the tour started this torture, as they were cursed or something like that. Another two month, Dave thought, and he would tell everybody about the Cloud of Doom too and he would be resting till the end of his days in a soul asylum’s chamber, right next to Alan’s chamber. He smashed micstand down onto the stage and it fell dangerously close to Martin, he didn’t look at him, not even flinched. Dave spitted in desperation, swearing under his nose and wiping off the tears from his cheeks.
- Hysterical bitch, - Martin hissed him on the break right before they had to go back to the stage. Dave almost smashed Martin’s head, shoving him raggedly onto the glassed door, but Fletch prudently hit Dave’s head with a chair, releasing Martin.
Martin drank a lot, to almost dead condition every night and he can’t realize in the mornings who he is and what is he doing here. Dave tried to drink too, but that was not for him. He could get drunk enough or alcohol led him into the darkest seizures of wicked aggression. His band mates and their workers seriously avoided him. He felt himself a true star and finally he had his own dress-room.
He met nice young woman at the party, her name was Teresa. He liked her because of her inner freedom. He felt the lack of problems and complexes in her, and it was too tempting. She gave him some powder – just for fun, it was cooler to fuck under powder. It was actually a lot more fun to live with it. He became addicted very soon. It works it fucking works, these snowy crystals led him somewhere, out of reality, and everything that he thought was important before has lost its meaning. The meaning was now to feel joy and happiness and he took it all from Teresa. Dave felt himself free the first time in his entire life. He was free, from the pain, from the strings and obligations, from this dark shadow that followed his steps before.
He left Joanne and Jack. He ruined everything he ever could, he left a band, he left London and he finally found enough balls to left…HIM. Dave’s head was spinning from his own boldness, and it added an extra wave of pleasure in his mind. He is a star, he got into the highest highs he never even dreamed, and he knew that it will be only pleasure what he will feel from now on, his new life. Dave married Teresa and was happy that he moving to the city of his dream. The City of Angels in the other side of the Atlantic Ocean was ready to devour him too. Plane was purging turbines, and moving to the air stripe at London’s Heathrow. There was nothing inside of Dave’s mind. No pain, no sorrow, he held Teresa’s hand tightly, repeating the words.

The cleanest I’ve been
And end to the tears
And the in-between years
And the troubles I’ve seen
Now that I’m clean,
You know what I mean
I’ve broken my fall
Put an end to at all
I’ve change my routine

I don’t understand what destiny’s planned
I’m starting to grasp
What is in my own hands * Clean by Martin L Gore

Chapter 9

Is simplicity best
Or simply the easiest
The narrowest path
Is always the holiest
So walk on barefoot for me
Suffer some misery
If you want my love*

Californian sun was shining brightly even through the black velvet curtains. Dave stretched himself on the king-size bed, right across the black silky sheets; he was fully dressed in his T-shirt and white pants. Teresa and her friend was out, too busy with the shopping. He returned to the bed and turned on the music system. Miller sent him demo of Martin’s Judas.
Oh, so that’s what you meant to say to me, huh?

Man will survive
The harshest conditions
And stay alive
Through difficult decisions
So make up your mind for me
Walk the line for me
If you want my love
If you want my love *

Then Dave’s telephone rang, he grabbed the receiver and pressed it right to his ear. It was Daniel Miller, he kindly informed Dave about the necessity to arrive to Spain immediately. Daniel said that Martin and Alan have already arrived and rented a house not far from Madrid, to make a new record. Dave said that he will call to Spain to wish them a happy honeymoon if he’d ever have a free time. Daniel gloomily coughed. And told Dave that they have to pay him double size wage for he is nursing them, evil buggers, every day from nine to five. He said that he bloody worn out and that they have gobbled his brains out from inside and that he has earned an idiosyncrasy and twisted bowels too, all from his uncountable attempts to kiss each of their asses.
- You are a commercial project, fuck you sideways, business - said Miller with the steel voice – Spell it with me - En-ter-prise.
- En-ter-pri-i-ise, - diligently repeated Dave.
- Are you mocking me? – Roared Daniel, - I will mock you, fuck it. Business is a thing that gives you all your greens that you are spending on your booze and dope and whores; is it easier like this for ya?
- Yeah, thank you, - said Dave – A lot easier.
- Enterprise – is a thing that gives me back all my money that I’ve spent at you, my son, when you didn’t cost two pennies.
- I didn’t cost what? – Asked Dave, giggling.
- A penny, shit, a penis, you can choose every word that you’d like; Nobody would give a piss for you, guys, anyway.
Dave laughed; at least Daniel managed to push away his apathy. At the beginning he wasn’t impressed much with Miller’s emotional burst but now he began to feel strangest kind of pleasure from their dialogue.
- We, Guys? We are? Who are we? We have only one “WE” in the band, - he said when he laughed enough, - We are, Mister Martin Lee Gore. We are the Great British Composer, laureate of the Queen’s premium for his achievement in the name of his Motherland, Himself. The Maker and the Creator. The King and the God. What do you think, Dan, can I call him Sir now or My Lord would be more precise?

Idle talk
And hollow promises
Cheating Judases
Doubting Thomases
Don't just stand there and shout it
Do something about it*

- Why are you still bitching about that, Dave? – Suddenly Miller’s voice became more peaceful, - Good Old Envy?
- Envy? – Dave set down in the bed, - No, another word. Although I doubt that English has a correct word to describe the feelings of the little street monkey, jumping and entertaining audience till the death, taking money from them and give it all to someone who grind a barrel-organ, huh? Fuck it, Miller, can you realize, that the barrel-organist takes it all? And don’t you bloody try to tell me to drink something after big hangover or change the fucking topic. You won’t distract my attention from the question, why, Dan, why I get less money then everybody in this pack of fucking wolfs?
- You know it perfect, - patiently said Miller, - I pay you similar charges. But also I think you do remember that Martin writing all the songs and no wonder that he has all author’s rights. Yes, they’re selling well, your albums became gold and platinum, Violator outdid previous success so he took his advantage as an author. That’s the name of the game; don’t tell that you didn’t know that, that’s not the question of injustice. You have a contract, have you ever check it? You want to accuse me that I am unscrupulous in my business?
- The fuck I want, - hurriedly added Dave, feeling that he probably found a soft spot, - Ok, let’s leave him alone. What about Alan?
- You know he’s written some songs too, and they have their arrangements with Martin.
- Another Great Composer?
Miller sighed uneasily.
- David, stop shagging with my brains, please. You know that everything is not that easy between them.
- Between Martin and Alan? – Asked Dave, - No I don’t know. Is something wrong?
Daniel paused, it seemed that he lit up his cigarette and inhaled; it made Dave search for his own pack of cigarettes in his pockets too.
- Since you are having your fun in California, here in Foggy Albion we are trying to solve a conflict. In simple words, Alan reckons that he should be a holder of rights in a list of songs. Not only his, but those, written by Mart too.
- Really? – Dave asked with a growing interest. He turned into his navel, blindly moving his hand over the bedside table, still looking for his cigarettes, - why’s that?
- Uhm… he has an opinion that it was his work as a musical director made those songs such popular, thus he believes that he could have co-author’s rights with Martin.
- Fuck me, - Dave dropped a cigarette from his mouth with amusement, - And what does Martin thinks?
- Martin informed us in his own peculiar polite and courteous way, that he’d rather strangle himself.
- Ha-ha-ha, - rapturously laughed Dave, - B-bitch.
- I advised him to compromise a little, I hope it would help us to keep Alan in the band till the end of the recording.
- It couldn’t be that…
- It appeared to be that. I told you, everything is not that simple. Martin did compromised somehow. Alan reckoned Martin’s compromises as insignificant, but he is ready to establish it as a precedent, and he hopes that he could get a better profit that would meet his deserts. And the main thing, he hopes that his name would be mentioned in context of Depeche Mode a lot more equitably.
- Suck my dick, - Dave exhaled.
- I have every reason to believe that Mister Gore stands firm in this exact opinion in respect of Mister Wilder too, even if he didn’t demonstrate it clearly yet. So, Dave, move on here, we have a little time. If it be your last album, do it the best way you ever could.

You can fulfill
Your wildest ambitions
And I'm sure you will
Lose your inhibitions
So open yourself for me
Risk your health for me
If you want my love * Judas by MLGore

Dave arrived into the Madrid’s studio, in his own manner, right before the breakfast. He wore baggy trousers and t-shirt and black velvet jacket. While the taxi driver was unloading Dave’s luggage, Alan, Martin and Andy were staring at Dave in complete silence, unable to produce any sound. They didn’t recognize him at first.
- So, I should be a rich man soon, - giggled Dave, shaking his long black hair, they grew almost to his shoulders, - Look here, you, British synthy-pop’s snobs, that’s how the true rock-n-roll star should look.
Dave noticed that Martin’s lips trembled. He didn’t forget to mention it later when they remained alone. He moved close to Martin, who stayed near the high semi-circled Spanish-fashioned window.
- What? You don’t like me? – Dave said, amusing even himself with his insolent tone. Martin turned away from him in silence.
- What a waste…wh-a-at a waste! - Dave made a false laugh; - But West Hollywood’s chicks are wetting their panties because of my tuft, you know. Well I’d say it’s rather sexy, don’t you think?
- Dave, I love you, - Martin said slowly and rather indifferently. In his opinion his phrase explained everything.
- Are you gonna work today or what? - Andy opened the door and looked inside, - You, yes, you, The Great Rock-n-Roller, go and tell guys what you wanted to do since they are working.
It was Evening. Martin and Dave were sitting at the terrace and drinking beer. They were sitting opposite to each other in silence for quite a long time.
- Check it out, I’ve crawled up, - suddenly Dave broke the silence.
- S-sorry?
- I’ve crawled up to ya. Walking barefoot for ya. I am creeping and kowtowing to ya. I accept all sufferings and I am ready to become anything you need.
Martin hid his face in his hands, tiredly rubbing his face.
- Judas, it is only the song, Dave. You’ve heard hordes of them.
- Judas, it is only the song, Mart. I’ve heard hordes of them, - Dave repeated and raised his voice – I’ve heard them all, Mart and I lived each word. These words, they tore my soul to shreds, I’ve beaten to pulp by each of them. Martin Lee Gore, thou should fuck another’s brains with all that shit, but I know that you never use occidental words.
Martin crossed his arms on his chest, leaning back in his armchair, he looked at Dave frowningly. Dave hit the table with his fist.
- You call me Judas? – He asked – Am I a traitor, Mart? Speak…no, don’t speak, don’t … you will lie.
Dave jumped off his chair and started pacing around the small terrace with white plastered walls. Suddenly he squatted down near the Martin’s wicker chair.
- Here I am, Mart, and I want your love.
Martin looked down.
- Dave, we should stop for it is a rather painful topic.
Dave removed his hands from his face.
- Why? I am that bad at kneeling at your feet? – He asked, demonstratively changing his position to really stand on his knees, - That’s better? What else should I do to you to make you understand that I didn’t come up to you, I crawled up to you?
Martin abruptly stood off his chair and moved away.
- In my reality, Dave, - he said, not looking at Dave, - it is me…who is crawling up to you. All this time.
His remark ruined all the pathos of their talk. Dave stood up ant set down on his armchair.
Martin turned in his heels and headed to the kitchen.
- More beer? – He asked Dave.
- I’d like to see it, if only once, how are you crawling to me, - mumbled Dave under his nose, - I’d came hard from that sight in multiplied orgasms,…YES, beer, Mart! – He yelled to the kitchen.
Martin was back with two cold beers.
- How’s Los Angeles?
- It’s ok; - Dave took a sip, - They are still the same psychos as you knew them, Mart. I live as a rock star in a big mansion with two chicks. Teresa’s best friend is living with us. I feel like Persian Sheikh. Crazy stalkers are everywhere. One chick was living near my house, for half a year, she quite seriously considered herself… – Dave giggled, - as my wife.
Martin laughed too; he put his ankle onto his other knee and set his boot against the table.
- Next time, - Dave continued, - That guy. Holy shit, he made me fucking crazy. It was like – I open my balcony door and whom do I see? I see that guy. I look into my window and I see that guy, I go out and I see that guy. I started to see him everywhere, even with my eyes closed. So once I was suffering a big hangover and I was mad, so kicked the shit out of his fucking ass. Why? Isn’t that clear that he fucked me up with his presence yet? So that asshole called the Police and I had to explain them. However, like I said, LA is LA. What about our good old London?
- Uhm…it’s all right, - said Martin, - Everything’s fine as always. Once I was drinking at some pub near the Kingston Cross, some dude was like set down near to me and asked: “Excuse me, is that you, you were singing I just can’t get enough?” I said, yes, and he was like Oh, wow, incredible, are you still alive?
- Ha-ha-ha-haaa, - Dave laughed out loud, - How kind! Sometimes I terribly miss that sweet British boring snobbism. I heard you and Susanne, you have a baby?
- Viva, - Martin nodded with a smile.
Dave was rocking back and forth in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
- Blonde? – He hemmed, - beauty…Viva Lee Gore…I wish I could see her, but I think Susanne won’t let me? Yeah? You are still under the Captain Boisvert charge, huh?
Martin smirked.
- That’s good, - Dave answered to himself, - That’s even better for ya. And for her. Listen here, why didn’t you marry her?
Martin thoughtfully sipped his beer.
- I am not ready yet.
- Huh? – Asked Dave, - How many children should be born by her to make you ready?
Dave rubbed his tuft with hiding his smirk.
- That’s not the issue, - answered Martin, - that’s not the issue. It’s just it… would be dishonest for her. It would be dishonesty regarding to her. I am sorry, I can’t explain better.
- Honesty? – Giggled Dave, - A new fetish? Brand new romance, Martin Gore and the Honesty?
Outwardly Martin didn’t react at Dave’s sarcasm.
- I was always honest with you, Dave.
Dave spilled the beer over his trousers he was giggling that hard.
- You? Honest? Ha-ha-ha, honest, oh, my God, I can’t bear it, - he wiped off the tears from his eyes and loudly exhaled, - Oh, dear, - he stoop up and dragged his chair closer to Martin’s. Dave set down and bent forward, he grabbed Martin’s hand, - And you truly believe that, - Martin snatched out his hand off Dave’s hand, - Yes. Simple truth. You believe that. That’s why I love you most - Dave laughed, Martin forced a weak smile.
Martin’s not-so-aggressive behavior reassured Dave to continue.
- You are Monster, - peacefully said Dave, - Baby, I do love a monster. Once upon a time I fell in love with a sweet little funny queer kitten, oh, yeah… a long time ago. I knew it should pass. I waited till it passes. I believed it should pass. And, yes, it passed. I understood today, it’s over now.
Dave put his hands on his knees, thoughtfully gazing somewhere over the Martin’s head.
- Now I love the Beast.
At night Dave opened the door of Martin’s room and Martin hardly was amused by that.
- Take me, - he told, clutching Martin’s shoulders and pressing him to the bed with all his weight, - C’mon, I know you want it,….I know…you are dying for it, you wanting it badly, more then anything in this fucking world, take me. You need it, you need me, and I can give myself to you. Take me!


Several months passed. Telephone rang at the living room, Fletch answered to Daniel Miller.
- Hello? – Fletch said, - Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, Daniel everything’s fine. No, everything’s ok, please, don’t worry, Daniel. Alan? Listen, he can’t talk to you right now. Yes, I went upstairs and told him. I’ve told him who’s calling. No, nothing personal. He just locked himself in his room and he didn’t walk out and he refused to let somebody in and he refused to talk to anyone. What is it? Is he alive? Uhm, I think, yes. Lads told me that he’s fucking stealing their beer at nights. Well may be they are stealing by themselves. Daniel, I really don’t know what had happened with him. We discussed the details of our next tour, he suddenly refused to go, and he stood up and yelled hysterically and then retired to his room and refused to leave it. Well, he said EXACTLY: “I will never ever go to any bloody fucking tour with you, fucking cunts”. No we didn’t do anything unnatural to him. Nothing like that. No, Martin neither. I am sure. What does he thinks about the tour? Well, he told me that he had heartaches and his head is aching too and he can’t sleep and he isn’t sure if his health let him to go. What? What did you say? Oh,… Arghh… Daniel, can I NOT repeat these EXACT words to him? No, he’s not shagging whores here. No, they are not fighting. No. Two sweet teddy bears. Yes they do, Daniel, you know I hate your expression: “Fucking like bitches in heat”. Dave? Dave doesn’t thinking. Dave doesn’t thinking anything at all. He will do as Martin will say. All right, I will do it. I will tell Mart that you will rip his balls off if he’s refusing to go, I think he will understand all the importance. Do we have enough time to start the tour before their breeding period will be over? Who knows. Yes that’s a risk. Eight displays, I told eight, yes. Anton called he finished the montage of all projections. How much? I though it would be cheaper then ten millions. Dan, here is Martin passing me, you wanted to talk to him, Martin, come here.
- Hello, Daniel, - Martin said.


It was unknown who was drunk and who was drugged at the party. The room was swinging; furniture twisted into intricate leaves of the unknown exotic plants, faces of their friends around was becoming monster’s frightening muzzles. Martin crawled to the wall; Dave laid there smoking the cigarette that smelled of familiar scent of herbal cough-drops. Martin took the joint right from his mouth and inhaled the smoke. It took a long time to Dave to realize where his cigarette has gone. Martin dropped the joint and grabbed Dave’s face.
- Listen, - he said, - I understood.
- Huh? – asked Dave and opened his eyes in fear to see some evil goblin.
- It’s a God, - but it was Martin instead of goblin.
- Where? - asked Dave with consternation.
- It’s not me … It’s HIM, He managing me to write this. When I hear what I’ve wrote I can’t believe that it was me, I couldn’t do that, I don’t understand it, it haven’t been given to me to feel, I can’t, I don’t know how to say how I feel. I was thinking about that and I understood that it was Him. God is talking through me. And you know I understood somehow what keeps us together like an umbilical cord that should be never severe, even if it’s fucking hurts to feel it sometimes. You. You are like the voice of mine you deliver everything that I can write but can not express, you are voice of him. The voice of God, do you understand me?
Dave was listening to him, so intently, he even opened his mouth. Suddenly tears rolled down by his cheeks. He snuffled, trying to keep them from falling, but in became even worse he started to whimper.
- You, moron … why are you crying? – Slurry asked Martin aware of Dave’s reaction.
- You…never…told…me…anything like this before, never. Martin... Marti-i-in.


- Fantastic, my friend, I swear you it is just fun-fucking-tastic, - once exclaimed Dave, while he described his funny orgies with his wife and her friends, - Cocained cock, can be hard for an hour or more. You see? Whole hour, you can do whatever you want and he just stays as hard as just aroused, it’s a super-mega-drive, man. Complete madness.
- You are fucking lying, - mistrustfully said Martin.
- The fuck I am lying, - Dave swore.
It felt for him like time stood still, or moving forward with giant jumps. Their mansion was so far away from the civilization, only the sun, the sand, distant mountains and yellowish withered grass. One night can last forever, a week, oh so it seemed, but sometimes clock jumped faster then the second. Andy grew grayish and thin, it was painful to see him sometimes, although he didn’t even drink or going out that much, it was just his nerves, they were overstrained. Dave honestly thought that the absence in temporal and spatial continuum could stay unnoticed by the others. But when Martin third time in a week loudly announced his admire of the beauty of the Mediterranean dawn in 6 p.m., passing across the kitchen, in boxers, looking if the coffee is ready yet. Andy grabbed the coffee-maker and smashed it to the wall.
- What the fuck do you think you doing? – He asked Martin very silently.
Martin was staring puzzled at the broken glass, left from the glass pot, for a long time.
- Me? – He asked, truly amazed.
- No, me, - said Andy, - What time is it now?
- Mor… uhm…what? It’s not morning? – asked Martin.
- Fu-uck, are you fucking charged? – Andy violently shook Martin by his shoulders.
- I am not charged.
- How come?
- I am not charged, - Martin shrugged Andy’s hands off his shoulders and tiredly rubbed his face, - Leave me alone, Andy. It’s my medications. May be too much of them. I. I couldn’t sleep. Probably with alcohol it was a little bit too much. Don’t be afraid, Andy, you know it happens.
Andy turned away from him and crossed his hand on his chest. Virtually he didn’t trust Martin’s words very much, but to express his doubts aloud would be too dangerous for the trust they had between.
- Oh, c’mon Andy, - Martin said, - It’s not what you are thinking about.- He tore off a piece of the paper towel roll and very thoughtfully blew his nose.
- It’s not what I am thinking about, - gloomily repeated Fletch, - not what I am thinking about… Yesterday Alan was dragging Dave from the toilet thrice. Dave was lying there unconsciousness in the middle of the puddle of his own vomit, - Fletch hit the kitchen sink with his fist, - He’s on the other planet still, he got so high, he don’t remember who he is and refuse to go down to Earth. Geez, I am not joking, fuck you, what the hell are you laughing at?! I fucking don’t want to find you like this one day, is that clear enough?
Martin came closer to him and reconciliatory laid his hand on Andy’s shoulder, he still held an empty cup in his other hand.
- Have I ever lied to you, Andy?
Andy snorted, then sighed, then shrugged his shoulders:
- Uhm, - he said, - it’s kinda…I saw the coffee pot somewhere. I will make you a coffee?
Dave was making them all crazy with the swings of his mood. When he wasn’t whining, irritated, nervous or just not in the mood, he literally was hanging in Martin’s neck. He felt that he is absolutely and unalterably in love with him and he kept convincing Martin of his eternal devotion. From time to time Dave was importuning Alan and Andy with his stories about Martin’s Genius, and that he can understand him much better now, it’s unbelievable, how one could write such a songs, and that sometimes he just can feel his own thoughts in Martin’s words, he singing them, but they are coming from inside.
It was Friday night, they were in stuffy overcrowded nightclub, but it was even better, to dissolve into the crowd. Alan was sipping his beer with the gloomiest gloom all over his face. Beside him Dave was sitting on a red leather couch, he wore snow-white shirt with gothic laces, a lot of necklaces and the cross, his hair was waving a little and he kept putting his hair over his ears not to let them to get into his face.
- He’s not allowing me to… come closer…to him, - suddenly tears swelled in his eyes, - I can’t understand it….for I do love him. I respect him. I want to be with him. I want to be closer to him…but there is a wall that separates us. The wall and I damn don’t know what to do with it. One time I can be shocked with his reaction and the other time I see that he feels nothing.
- It calls Emotional Paralysis, my friend, - hemmed Alan, - all that you see is imitation. He is the one and only person he cares about. Yeah, that does can make him care.
- No-o-o-o-o, - Dave moaned, hugging himself tightly in his arms, - No. I know, I can hurt him and I am hurting him the way I don’t want to. I am permanently in fear. I am in fear to say something wrong, in fear that he could get me wrong, again and I just go and kill myself, literally, I can’t explain. What might I do? What? Wha-a-a-at? I have paranoia now. But then again, I open my arms and rush to him… to tear my body up to the blood, over the ice rock. Where did I go wrong? – Dave sniveled, his lips were trembling, he felt he will be crying, and tried to keep himself under control.
- Waiter, one vodka, - he snapped his fingers in the air, toppling his glass.
Alan clenched his teeth and hit a table with his beer glass.
- I hate him, - he roared, - I hate him for what he’d done to you.
Dave even stopped scratching himself in surprise. Alan not often expressed his views so harshly.
- Uhm… and w-what did he done to me? – He asked puzzled.
Alan leaped to his feet.
- You are nothing, - he yelled, his face reddened, some people in the club looked at him wary, tall security behind the dance floor stared at him intently, - Look at you now, what did your turn into, huh? At day you get high, at night you crawl to the toilet and throw up, I have enough of it, - Alan passed his neck with the edge of his palm, he breathe heavily and then set down, comprehending that attracting too much attention with his emotional monologue, - Enough. I’ve already had enough of this Freak with his unfuckable self-importance, and now I am babysitting you and comforting you in your hysterics…
- You are hysterical bitch yourself, - said Dave, biting his lips and rubbing his cheeks.
- Why are you scratching yourself all the time? – Tiredly asked Alan.
- Me? Oh…that’s … junk.
- Junk? You mean heroin?
The waiter bring another glass of vodka, Dave toppled it too.
- It doesn’t working for me, - he said.
They were sitting in silence for a long time.
- I didn’t mean to hurt you, or offend you, - finally Alan said, - Forgive me, Dave, I don’t want to loose my friend, another friend. God, I am worrying about you, Dave, can’t you understand that I care…
- Alan, - Dave moved closer to him at the couch, he put his hands on his friend’s shoulders, suddenly his voice went hoarse, - Only you can understand me, Ala, I know, yeah…I know you my one and only true friend, - Alan hugged him by his back in answer.
Dave rubbed his forehead of Alan’s shoulder in black cotton shirt.
- Yeah, it’s true, I can feel it, - he whispered hot in Alan’s ear, making him sweat.
- Dave, we are not alone, - whispered the rest of Alan’s mind, that was still able to think.
- And I don’t give a shit, - Dave said, - Geez, I love you, Al, no don’t try to break free from me, don’t try to push me aside, I won’t do anything to you, I just had to say it now…
- Dave, you don’t know what are you playing with, - Alan hoarse.
Dave understood his behavior like he wants to. He leaped up to his feet and beckoned Alan to go with him. Alan stood up, pulled the most appropriate banknote from his pocket at left it on the table, and followed Dave through the dancing crowd. He caught him in some black corridor, where several couples were hugging and kissing, and didn’t give a damn of what was around.
- Where are you going?
- Hush! – Dave brought his index finger to his lips, then grabbed Alan’s shirt and pushed him inside.
- Shit, I don’t want to go to the toilet, - he said.
- You want to, - insisted Dave. He pressed Alan up to the wall and crushed his lips with his mouth. Alan’s felt dizziness, Dave was kissing him over and over again, passionately, raggedly and greedily and Alan answered with no less eagerness.
- Okaaay, I want to… - Alan whispered into Dave’s mouth, making Dave laugh smugly and put his hand into his trousers. Alan sighed, rapturously moaned from Dave’s movements, he stroked his hardening cock, and he just bit Dave’s shoulder with his teeth.
- Fu-u-uck, - he screwed his eyes, - What if anybody will come?
- Let them have they fun then, - Dave smirked, - Or you don’t like it?
- I like it, oh,… I like it, Dave, you are right; anyway, why the fuck are club toilets exist?
Alan put his hand inside Dave pants, making him moan.
- Damn, I dreamed about it, - he whispered.
Dave kissed him again, hard Alan bitted his lower lip, savoring the sensation.
- Don’t stop, - Now Alan was rubbing himself against Dave, his manhood became pretty alive now in his warm palm.
Dave abruptly got down to his knees, undoing his zipper. He took his now hard cock with his hand and took him into his mouth; Alan bumped his head into the tiled toilet wall. It should be happened. Sooner or later, it should be happened. He though about it, but every time he thought about it, he couldn’t predict that it will happen like that, so simply and cynically and so awful yet so damn great. He bent forward not to miss a thing of this carnal sight of Dave plump lips on his oversensitive flesh, gliding over it, smoothing and caressing with unbelievable voluptuousness and unabated perseverance.
Soon he was on his knees in front of Dave too and took his thick resilient cock. The way, Dave was answering his caresses almost drove him to orgasm once again. Dave was writhing under him, and moaning, caressing his hair. Alan was kissing his navel and his balls, and taking him as deep as he ever could. He was helping himself, stroking Dave’s dick with his palm, and soon it happened.
Right at the moment, Dave felt burning jolts over-warming his body, he opened his eyes to see it, and he noticed right before his eyes something that he decided at first was his hallucination. Yes, you are right, he saw Martin. Martin stood there, leaning his back to the ragged door and looked point-blank at him. Right up to him. And it seemed he was looking at them for some time already. Unfortunately, my story takes a lot more time to express what had happened then it actually was, because Dave can’t help it and he cried out FUCK and Alan turned away from him and right in this second Dave came, spattering with his sperm everything that he ever could.
Martin gazed at fell faced Alan and Dave, then bent down, meditatively and with some disgust shrugged off the drop of Dave’s sperm from his trousers.
- That was, - he said, demonstrating them his trousers, - You know, THAT was mean.


- I wanna hear your version of this exciting story, - Miller asked Fletch by the phone.
- Which story?
- I’ve read, some news-papers, about the video shooting, what’s up with Martin?
Fletch rubbed his nose with his fingers and remain silent.
- He’s in hospital now? Seizure?
- Oh, no, nothing to worry about, Daniel, he’s ok now. Everything’s fine. Overfatigue probably, yeah, we were partying a little bit too much before and after and he said he forgot to eat.
- Yeah, I’ve read this heart wrenching story and cried like a baby, then turn on the calculator. For three days? You forgot?
- Dan, what are you driving at?
- You understood precisely what am I driving at, Andrew.
- I’ve asked him. He said he didn’t take cocaine.
- He’s lying.
- He won’t lie to me.
- I’ll tell you, he is lying.
- HE WON’T LIE TO ME! – yelled Andy, so his face became red. Miller breathed heavily from the other and of the phone line.
- One dope head is far enough for me on your band, and the rumors, and all that stuff, what do you think my patience is endless?
- This talk is very unpleasant to me, - Andy squirmed, his head was aching so much, he though it will crack now.
- I know and I am sorry, Andrew, - Daniel said, - Forgive me, old boy, but you are only one person I trust. And I am wrong, I am wrong at every side that I am sharing it all with you, but I have no choice.
- It’s ok, Daniel, I understand it’s my job.
Miller became quiet.
- I,… - he started but stopped.
- You have my word, - said Andy, - I give you my word for him.
- That’ll be enough for me, - said Miller and put down the receiver.
Fletch fell down to the chair, clutching the table with his numb fingers. He stopped hearing and seeing for several second, as a harsh pain pressed his temples. No, not now. Not now.
The rehearsals were started, their stage outfits were ready and to big black ladies from the back vocals joined them, and they were repeating their show back and forth. Alan drowned into the music, Dave was sweating and loosing his voice, he was casting glances at Martin periodically. You’d have enough fingers on one hand to count the days when Martin was actually sober. He wasn’t just drunk he was drunk as a lord, overboiled and dead. Andy advised him to sit down, because he didn’t succeed much in his attempts to stand. Martin smiled cheerfully and fell down right with the chair; actually, the more he drank the more his smile became cheerful. Andy rubbed his temples, his spasms growing more and more painful each day.
Once it had happen.
Andy didn’t knock before he came into Martin’s room, he was too eager to discuss everything Miller told him about the show. Martin was sitting there; he bent over the coffee-table, concentrating on inhaling promptly outlined line of white powder.
- Martin … shit, - Andy drew his breath.
Martin exhaled from suddenness, angel dust scattered in the air.
- Andy…
- Mart, you fucking told me that you…
- Andy it’s just…
- I wasn’t lying, Andy, ANDY, - Martin jumped off his chair and followed him down the stairs, - Wait, you get it wrong…
- Yes, I am idiot and I can understand nothing.
- Andy, stop, please Andy, I didn’t want to.
Andy stopped near the staircase at the first abruptly, so Martin almost bumped him, and turned.
- Speak, - he hissed through his clenched teeth.
- Andy, it was the first time.
- I don’t believe you.
- Andy…
- Stop this childish games Martin, just stop. You are grown man, you can do with you life whatever you wish. You can fuck it up to the death, why the fuck should I bother?
- Forgive me, Andy.
- I will never forgive you, Mart.
- Andy, you know, there is a lot of complicated things in this life…
- You can stick your rotten philosophy up your ass, - Andy pushed him away. - Can you hear me? Can you?
Martin pushed him too in answer and jumped off the stairs. Andy’s face were red from the anger, he tugged the collar of his t-shirt as if it didn’t let him breath.
- It’s a question of trust, Martin, and a question of friendship. There are things, you can’t repair, and trust couldn’t be repaired, once you shatter it. LISTEN, YOU! – Andy rubbed his eyes to hide his tears, - YOU…LIED…TO ME. I believed you, I trusted you as myself, I was ready to give my word for your words, and you just….fuck it.
- What happens? – asked Kessler and Alan, opening the door and coming inside the house.
- AAAAAA! – suddenly yelled Andy, abruptly falling down to the floor. He was shaking convulsively. His eyes rolled up.
- WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE? – Kessler dashed to him, and Martin too, he yelled:
Alan rushed into the kitchen.
Foam showed up in Andy’s lips.
Martin’s strengths weren’t enough to unclench Andy’s cramped jaws, and Kessler and Alan were helping now to put a spoon into his mouth not to let him to swallow his tongue.
When the tour started, Depeche Mode’s wish-list was full of very interesting things. They demanded. One separate limo to each member of the band. Strictly arranged interview time, not too meet each other occasionally, and the rooms should be near or opposite or at the upper or lower floor. Sometimes it felt easier to let them live in separate hotels.
Alan was dying from laughing every time he saw Dave heading to his own dressing room with black curtains and vanilla candles, and big mirror, he said he’s an Actor and he should be in a right mood.
It doesn’t matter, cause they’ve met on the stage only. Anton Cornijn filmed their show. Time became show-not show again. Miller fought the rumors about Dave’s hard drug addiction, and some other problems, dealing with abuses and booze and medications.
Andy took his medications, but didn’t fell much better.
Once he was forced to visit Martin Lee Gore. Martin Lee Gore was drunk up from the morning. He was lying on the floor in the middle of his room with a cigarette in his teeth. Ash was falling down lazily from the cigarette; Martin didn’t care much he was too busy staring at the ceiling.
The door wasn’t even locked.
- What the fuck? – Yelled Martin, - There was written “Do not disturb”.
- Good Morning, Martin, - Andy said.
- A Morning can’t be Good, - said Martin and took the cigarette off his mouth, - Mister Fletcher, fancy meeting you here! I am sorry for I didn’t expect you’d come, else I’d tide up my kennel for ya a little.
Andy went inside and took a look around. Some packs of bottles should be gone, that’s true. He undid his leather coat and combed his hair back with his palm. Then he shut the door.
- You live like a plant, - he said, - You have no shame at all?
- I don’t give a shit, - Martin said slurry, - I don’t care, I just don’t fucking care. Who are you to tell me what to do?
- Martin, - Fletch shook his head displeased, - I am your former friend. My name is Andrew.
- Andrew? – Martin smiled, - How are you doing, Andy? And how’s your health?
- Are you in your right mind? – Andy gloomily gazed over the Martin’s room.
- Yes, - Martin said, - I am just fine.
- Evidently, - hissed Fletch.
Martin propped himself on his elbows, well he tried to but not succeed from the first attempt. He rested his head against the wall. Andy went to the window not to be able to see it. He evilly kicked an empty bottle aside.
- You were arrested, why?
- You would believe me anyway, - Martin said, - But why are we talking about me? You’d better tell me something about yourself. How are lads? I haven’t seen them for a while…For how long are we in this fucking tour? For a year?
- A year. Miller asked me to convey his greetings to you, for we are justified all money he put up to this tour. Right from this date we will make money from that.
- What? – Martin’s eyes sobered from the inner horror, - Only now?
- Yeah, - Andy said coldly, - he reckons that you will react correct regarding his proposal to prolong the tour. My secretary will acquaint you with the tab of you South American and African shows.
- It can’t be true, - Martin shook his head, - I can’t take it no more.
- You could, - Andy turned to Martin, - Exclude half of the alcohol from you diet and I am sure you will be just fine.
- I will die even sooner.
Andy forced a laugh.
- It is Hell, Andy.
- I am always ready to help you. Though you are not my friend now, just maybe good acquaintance, but the part of my heart will belong to your forever.
- Thank you, - Martin suddenly laughed, making Andy flinch, - Thank you, you are too kind.
Fletch frowned more.
- No-no, I am not sarcastic now, - Martin tried to keep himself under control, but his shoulders were shrugging still from the laughter, - you are good. You are too kind. I just wonder what you are doing here with such a shit, as I am.
- Mart.
- L-listen, I’ve heard what they are talking about. They say, it’s my entire fault, they say you should keep away from me; they almost refused to talk to me. They blame me for your illness; they are avoiding me like I am a death on two legs. I know I’m the one to blame, I am guilty, but I don’t know what I did wrong. I don’t know how it could be any other way and I’d never did it any other way. I am thinking about it all the time.
- It’s not your fault that we are in Hell now. It’s ours fault.
- Keep away from me, Andy, - Martin tried to stood up, but useless, - Keep out. I don’t want to be a reason of your distraction. I CAN’T BE, - his voice broke.
Andy sighed heavily and came closer to Martin.
- Leave it, Martin. We have to pay for everything, and you know that the price is high. I couldn’t say that I have no questions to you, personally, but I’d say we are paying our debts to the Fortune. Every one of us is paying his own debts.
- Fortune? – Martin hoarse, - We have Fortune? We already did our best and now we’ll just go down from the hill. We are going down. They say this is shit, what we’ve done and we’re going down.
- They’ve said it all time that I remember, since when did you started to care?
- I am talentless and nothingness and useless. I can’t do anything and they hate me, everybody hates me. There’s no person in this world who need me or who cares. I don’t know why the hell I exist? Why do I exist?
- You can’t talk like this, Martin, because you have no right to decide it, you see?
- I see, - Martin raised his voice, - The Divine Jest of giving life to me I understood very long time ago…uh…I am guilty. If whatsoever – here is Martin Gore, fuck me sideways. I am a Scapegoat, heh, I believe, that’s the reason why you all need me. Ok, - he crawled closer to Andy, - Take me as I am, if you want, it’s my entire fault. My and only my.
- Martin I am here to help you.
- Go, Andy.
- I came here to help you and I give you my hand.
- Why? You wanna drawn with me?
- You need me.
- I don’t need anyone.
- Fuck, it is alcohol, it’s talking now, not you.
- Bullshit.
- Okay, then I will use my right, as a former friend…
- Fuck you, - said Martin, bumping his back against the wall again.
- Excuse me?
- I never take help from my good acquaintance, - Martin said, - Leave me alone. Go away. Be gone. I fuck my good acquaintance.
- Martin, you are making a mistake.
- A mistake, - Martin tiredly repeated, - Once I followed this path, but I failed. Perhaps it wasn’t a mistake then? Probably just a Destiny. You have to go, Andy. You can hate me, you can despise me, cause It’ ok with me, I can handle it. I’ve tried already, you know it worked out, I get used to it…. I feared, before that I wouldn’t, but I survived. I can survive hate and I can survive despise, oh…you know, the only thing that I can’t survive is my former friends, humiliating me with their fucking pity. GO! – He shouted.
There was a band meeting with Alan and Dave, so guys learned that they would have to prolong the tour, because they couldn’t earn enough money yet. And Martin announced the news that his tour will move on without Andrew Fletcher, because he should live them for a while due to his bad health and some other objective reasons.
- Bravissimo! – said Alan and stood up. He was applauding Martin.
Jonathan Kessler and the producers looked at Alan wary. Dave looked aside, he was giggling. Martin’s face reflected nothing; he acted as if he didn’t see it. He led the meeting for the next question, what was he awed to do, if he kinda had been left here as a senior?
Tour was prolonged. Dave was so impressed by the example of Punk’s God Iggy Pop, he started to perform stage-diving. He broke his rib once but found it only at the third day; he didn’t feel any pain because he was high all the time. He didn’t exist any more; he was somewhere else at the other side.
Martin leaned his numb forehead to the window in their dressing room, pressing blinds to the glass; he opened his eyes with difficulty.
- Shit, Africa, - when his eyes focused on something over the window.
- Fuck it, - said Dave, he put black leather pillow on his face, - Africa–Fuckafrica, Zaire –Fuckaire, SAR–Fucksar. Same shit. Same shit different day.
The show was about to start with any minute.
- No, just think, it’s Africa, - Martin looked at the brown mountains fading in a sand haze in last gleams of sunset. It seemed like the other planet from what they lived at for the second year.
- A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a, - Dave moaned, - Shut up, for I’ m sick of it. I wanna go home. I can’t see these evil muzzles around no more. I sick of them. I sick of this fucking band. I sick of you, Martin.
Martin straightened up and looked at Dave. His eyes were sparkling unnaturally from the eye-drops, responsible to hide redness of his eyes. Dave didn’t move, he didn’t take the pillow off his face neither. Martin thoughtfully and slowly spit on the floor.
- Fuck you, - he said, - You just fucking enjoy throwing up, Dave.
Alan hit the glass coffee-table with the magazine; he was far too ready to kill them both.
- Guys, time, - said an Assistant, opening the door abruptly, saving life of them three.
They passed the corridor in a long distance from each other; they’ve been even unable to feel nervous before the show. To overcome and to survive. Another week. The week means three shows. Black boy jumped from nowhere to him just for a second. Martin took something, he didn’t know what it is, but it fucking got him high up to the skies.
- Stop! – He talked to himself on the stage, bending over his guitar, examining running somewhere from his fingers strings, - Stand up straight, you, cunt!
White cross on the floor. One step forward. Second step to the right. Third step forward again. Convincing Imitation, and the fuck you’ll be aware of my state. Closer to the edge of the stage. The speaker. The prompting board. Fuck, I can’t see anything. The crowd. Louder. Shout louder.
Greet your fucking God!

In your room
Where time stands still
Or moves at your will
Will you let the morning come soon
Or will you leave me lying here
In your favourite darkness
Your favourite half-light
Your favourite consciousness
Your favourite slave**

Dave hoarse with what was left from his voice, he was sitting on his heels in the middle of the stage. His vest was utterly wet, long hair glued with the sweat to his back. Bones protruded from the grayish, half-transparent skin, he grew so thin. You can’t realize no more that he was a Dave still.

In your room
Where souls disappear
Only you exist here
Will you lead me to your armchair
Or leave me lying here
Your favourite innocence
Your favourite prize
Your favourite smile
Your favourite slave **

Dave cried out these words through the pain and sweat and it appeared to Martin that it was his own Soul, materialized somehow, crawling through the drug and booze and vice fumes, tearing the skin of its hands, letting the blood fall free in its attempts to break free from the cocoon, that was strangling it to death and crying out as if it would help to compel Him to show some mercy to it. Vain Endeavour. Vain. Vain. Fuck, where those crosses are gone? Sweat was rolling down by his forehead in drops, getting in his eyes, fuck it, fuck them, is it sweat or tears? That’s why he can’t see anything. Damn. My time to sing. It’s Time to. Okay, come on, we are singing don’t forget, we are trying not to howl or whimper.

I'm hanging on your words
Living on your breath
Feeling with your skin
Will I always be here**

The sea. Sea of people, if to look over their heads and not to see anybody’s eyes. Howling, yelling, rocking and waving sea of people. It’s easier to see it like that. A lot easier.

In your room
Your burning eyes
Cause flames to arise
Will you let the fire die down soon
Or will I always be here
Your favourite passion
Your favourite game
Your favourite mirror
Your favourite slave *** In your room by MLGore

Dave clutched his own chest, desperately scorching pain pierced his body, and he fell down onto the floor. They understood that everything is fucking shit right at the moment. Securities and stage workers and assistants rushed onto the stage, Emergency came soon too.
Doctors stated an infarction.

Chapter 10

Martin was sleeping on the couch in his studio, he was fully clothed. He put a black silk pillow over his head; he crossed his legs and embraced himself with his arms. Andy was walking through the studio with the camera and filming something about the new album recording that should be released in 2005 for the official site of Depeche Mode.
- Hush, Martin is sleeping, - Fletch said to Dave entering the studio. He turned off the camera and put it on the table.
Dave was heartedly touched by the view before his eyes; he set down onto Martin’s couch, despite Fetch’s annoying mumblings, he put his one leg on the other and rested his elbow on Martin’s hip.
- Sleeping, like a little bunny, - he grinned.
- Huh? - Asked little bunny having a hoarse bass.
- Hey, we were like talking with Kessler, while you were sleeping, and he kinda talked to Miller, anyway they are highly recommended, so Fletch and me haven’t see any reason to turn them down, so we are going on Tour this Fall.
- Oh, no, - Martin said, trying to hide his head under the pillow. Fletch moved his chair closer to them and set down, coupling his hands on his belly.
- Why?
- Dave, I am sure, you just want kill me, - Martin established the fact.
Dave started thinking about Martin words quite seriously. Some time he was just sitting there and rocking his leg, meditatively.
- Well, Mart, - finally he said, - you know…I….I can’t tell you that I never ever dreamed about that. No. No-no-no. I think nevertheless, no. Otherwise I’d already found a way, admit it, am I right?
- Yes, you are right, - Martin nodded, - Listen, I am old and I am sick what am I going to do there?
- Okay, - cheerfully answered Dave, - So let young and healthy will go to the tour. Me and Fletch.
They laughed altogether.
- Martin, - Fletch droned, - C’mon, stop it, it’s not the first time that you are married to someone.
They laughed again.
- You are right, - Martin said, - okay, deal. We should go. A six-pack of Vodka every day and this Girl is yours.
- Asshole, - said Dave and slapped his hip.
- Mart, I’d say you have enough of that, - Fletch nodded.
- I can’t not to drink, - Martin said, - I’ve got nerves.
- When you are drinking, everybody around have got nerves, - Dave said, - So for the little rest of the humanity, that still live inside you, you’d better compromised it somehow. O, I know. Let’s put it that way…Okay you can drink to the amusement, be dead drunk, blind drunk, roaring drunk and drunk as a lord. But no frequently then once in a week.
- Thrice! – Martin said indignant.
- Two days and that’s enough! – answered Dave.
- That’s fair, - Fletch nodded.
- Fiends, - Martin said, - hangmen, satraps and Herods too.
- Why are you sleeping here, Mart? – Incidentally asked Dave, staring at the tip toe of his red sport shoes intently.
Martin sighed and propped himself with his elbow:
- Captain Boisvert entrenched himself at my home, - he smirked, making Dave laugh, because it was the first time when Martin called her in Dave’s manner, - I am feeling nice here. I got used to.
- Martin, - Dave’s face became serious. Probably too serious, - you know, there is a giant bed in my hotel apartment.
- Thank you, David, you are my only true friend, - Martin smiled broadly and tapped Dave’s hand.
- Yes, I am, - said Dave, - The true friend never grudge anything for his friends. He’s ready to share the last thing he has, he’s ready to share his last shirt, and his last piece of bread, you know, he’s ready to share everything with his friend. Let alone some miserable bed…Martin, what did I say that special, that there is a tears in your eyes from laughter?
Martin shook his head.
- Please, don’t bother, David, - he said, - I think, probably I will move next week, my agent already found me a nice place not too far from here, about three miles down by the road. That’s nice, so it would be easier to see my children. Let me stand up?
- Oh yeah? – Asked Dave, he was standing now too, and he was stroking his navel thoughtfully, - That’s good. That’s very good, Martin, because you know, Martin, I actually fucked up to the death to live in some hotels, you see, how much longer I might live at hotels? Fletch, tell him.
Fletch nodded silently.
Martin froze.

Fletch spend a year in monastery. He told nothing about it, and explained nothing too; he told it was just needed.
Martin stood, resting his forehead against the window, gazing at the slanting lines of winter rain, it soon should be spring but it seemed that it will never come. What ever he’d talk about it, he remembered that day completely. It was just an ordinary plain and gray day. He came to the studio by metro. There were gloomy Kessler at the studio, and Miller, and Alan’s representative who officially announced Alan’s departure from the band.
- I’d say, we expected that, - gloomily said Jonathan.
- We could expect that, - Miller added, - but I’d say we believed that it wouldn’t… - Daniel stopped abruptly, he decided to say nothing more.
Martin nodded. He felt like his jaws were paralyzed.
- However, I believe that this important and unpleasant Mister Wilder’s decision wouldn’t affect existing of the Depeche Mode project.
- Wouldn’t affect WHAT? – Martin opened his mouth in surprise.
- Despite the fact that we assembled here in somewhat limited staff, - Kessler said and rubbed his moustaches, - I think we can make some prior arrangements about the several specialists, incorporating in our work. I talked to Tim and, theoretically he is ready to collaborate with us. Martin, you know Tim.
Martin nodded.
- Collaborate? – He hoarse, - why?
- Temporary, until you find another musician to replace Mister Wilder, for the new album?
- I don’t think we will search someone, - Martin said, - Excuse me?
- Your new album.
Martin looked at one side then at another, like he was searching someone.
- Ours? Where are we?
Daniel made a false laugh.
- I hope we could communicate with David soon and I know that Andrew, despite his personal problems, is sane enough to…
Martin looked at him, but couldn’t hear him at all. He saw Daniel’s lips were moving, perhaps his own face was able to hold an adequate expression of interest and attention, because Daniel was still proving him something enthusiastically, and it seemed, he was rather satisfied with his paralyzed face as an answer. But Martin couldn’t hear him at all, there was thunder in his ears, then the thunder has gone, and the space around him was pressed with the fluffy clouds, there was silence and it seemed for him that he was looking at everything from the distance, like he was far away from here, or like he was watching it by the TV. He felt his consciousness was slowly slipping away, shutting down his senses, one then another. Kessler handed him a glass full of bourbon and this ordinary feeling of the heavy cold glass in his palm abruptly stopped his falling into unconsciousness.
- Th-thank you, - he said, draining his glass with one gulp.


Soon Martin got into the hospital, because of his soporifics addiction, so it seemed that that was not the only medications what was bothered him, and mostly Susanne. So she insisted, with the help of the doctors that Martin has a free choice to spend some time in rehabilitation center, or with the police. Susanne told him, if she was in his place she’d choose clinic, Martin said that he doesn’t give a shit, and the choice is hers, although he was sure that it was Susanne’s idea to press him that way.
Next several months he courageously smelled the flowers in some elite clinic under the fake name. He refused to make any friends there. He had a strong allergic reaction on people in general, the one and only exception was old drunkard, someone’s granddad. He was undergoing treatment there for fifteenth time or so. Old man has his own security, bringing them alcohol from time to time. Granddad stood in deep marasmus for a long time actually in everything, except ways how to find what to drink. He strongly believed that he will die immediately if he lasts more then one day without a bottle. His relatives thought otherwise, so that’s became a problem.
Old man and Martin often were just sitting under the big oak in silence; sometimes Martin was talking about his life, granddad didn’t understand a word, though it was even better for Martin. And it was MUCH better then sitting in the middle of the room, suffering the group therapy and talking to other bastards how he has started to live like that.
- My name is Pam, - said nervous pimply maid, standing up and pulling his variegated dress, - I am taking drugs from thirteen. My stepfather was very cruel man, and he treats me and my mom very bad, mom was drinking hard, - she snuffled, - I wanted to run away, and I ran. We started to live with my boyfriend, but we had no money, absolutely no money, so I started to earn my living, being a prostitute…
- I am Robert, - droned big guy from the left, - kinda my friends gave me the dope…
- Julia, - stood woman, sitting right beside him, - if we are talking honestly, I will tell you my long and sad story.
Martin listened her heart-wrenching unhappy story about love; he almost missed his turn to speak. The group was looking at him impatiently, he stood up, gazing nowhere.
- I am Martin, and I… - he rubbed his nose and though, what exactly he was about to say? My life-work shattered in pieces, I lost everything and everyone. And it seems that it all was my entire fault, but it is useless to think about it, because there are things that can’t be repaired. I’ve lost a person who was closer to me then anyone in this life. How many details should I say about that I am bleeding when he’s near, because he’s hurting me but I am suffering in agony, when he’s not? I want to break free from it. I can’t breathe, I just can’t breathe, it is harder then any physical pain, I need a place to go from this pain and I don’t give a shit, if it will be drugs, or alcohol, or whores, or Alaska folk songs, - I don’t know what to say, - when several long minutes left he said, - Theoretically,…I am like…probably….I think I should be fine…uhm…it’s just, I think I took cocaine and…no?...you say I shouldn’t do that?
The Group gazed at him with deep rooted hate.
To remain sane Martin made several attempts to shag pretty young girl-psychologist just from the University. Her round appetizing butt prominent despite the shapeless clinic uniform was hurting his most tender feelings under the waistline of his pants more and more each day. Actually he was going to psychological trainings only to meet her pretty ass again. Psychology as a science gave a birth to a deep skepticism in him. He already saw one psychologist before.
Miller and Kessler were seriously worrying about band’s psychological crisis and they hired a specialist and sent him with them into the Devotional tour. They ignored this bastard, all four of them, they even refused to say Hello and for a long time their psychologist was obliged to solve psychological problems of the stage workers, but once they recalled him.
Accidentally, after a big dope and right before the show Dave was yelling at psychologist, something like hey, you, cunt, bring me some beer, because he actually confused him with his personal assistant. Psychologist started to explain that it is not his responsibility to bring Dave beer, his duty was to solve their psychological problems and he explained it so long and boring, they all became mad at him. Martin was rather boiled and not in the mood, so he bent him over some box at the corridor, showing his serious intention to rape him, he motivated his own behavior with the fact that he is having his psychological problems indeed, and he need to solve them right now. Alan laughed that hard, there were tears in his eyes, already driven mad Fletch squeaked and pull the drum over Alan’s head.
The Psychologist retired that day, with the words:
- You all are very sick. You need a medical treatment.
But Martin’s plans about girl’s ass haven’t been destined to be put into practice. The best side of it was the fact that he left the clinic.
Along with some other reasons this fact pushed him somehow to legitimate their relationships with Susanne. Their child was growing up, and Susanne was so sweet in white laces of the bride, Martin even dreamed for one second that everything is not that bad.
In the end now he has a family. He is a husband and a father. In some paradoxical way, civic cliches made by the Society he despised before worked as an anti-stress factor for him delivering him from painful reflections about the meaning of his existence. He clutched these cliches with unbelievable passion, even Susanne was surprised.
Dave came to London twice. He desperately wanted to talk to Martin alone not in the studio or home, it was very important for him. He stood and waited, he thought, about three hours or something, but Martin didn’t come. Dave started worrying, he called to his home and Susanne picked up the receiver. He refused to talk to her, he just hang up. Her voice was calm and tranquil; it means that nothing had happened. Nothing had happened to her, absolutely nothing. He just didn’t come. Probably he though it was beneath his dignity to talk to Dave. Dave was going down by the streets, wiping the snow from his cheeks, not feeling his own tears underneath the snowflakes.
He was reading a magazine with the last Martin’s interview in the plane.
- We haven’t talked to our front-man for several weeks... – he laughed out loud, scaring his neighbors, - oh…oh, my,…I can’t take it, I just can’t take it anymore, - he was waving his hands and insisted that the stewardess should bring him some whiskey.
So, that’s who am I to you now, Mister Martin Lee Gore. I am a front-man to you. Dave choked with whiskey, you son of a bitch, so we are no more then colleagues, huh? How sweet, I am ready to piss on my pants, I bet.
- Could you please give me a pen? – A sit near was empty, so Dave asked fat burgher in the opposite line of sits, he mumbled something, but handed Dave a pen.
Dave stuck out his tongue, enthusiastically drawing rather stylish half-rounded horns to Martin’s head then he moved a magazine away to admire his work. He giggled and continued his art; he was drawing a tip of a pointed tail near Martin’s hand on the picture.
- Thank you very much, you are too kind, - he said, bringing a pen back to burgher, - you wanna know why did I need it? – He giggled, not paying much attention to burgher’s awareness, he opened a magazine, - Do you see the Man? – He laughed, - He’s not a man, he is Devil Incarnate. Yeapp, I swear, if you will see him somewhere, you’ll know there he is, Satan. You know…you kinda watch your wife and children too, yeah, spell it with me Sa-tan.
The burgher tried to push a button to call a stewardess, Dave waved his hands in protest.
- No-no, don’t be afraid, I didn’t mean to disturb you, - he straightened in his chair.
His fingers were stroking Martin’s face on glossy surface of magazine page. Martin was gazing at him from the picture sad and defenseless and looking so easily to hurt like an angel. He looked the way, you wanted to hug him and kiss him, comfort him, and take him under your wing.
- Come here, my baby, kiss your daddy, - he leaned back in his chair and loudly kissed the photo, and soon fell into deep slumber, not taking off the magazine from his face.
He didn’t see sweating burgher with reddened face, and he didn’t give a damn about him no more.


Miller talked to Martin almost every day.
- Can’t you see what happening with him? Call him, talk to him.
- Uh…should I?
- I… am… sorry? – Miller gasped for breath.
- How…do…you….think…I…can…help him? – Martin tried to unclench his own teeth while saying that.
- I don’t know, probably you can tell him where is he moving at!
- Who am I to judge him?
- You’d better forget this expression now, son.
Kessler was talking to Dave by the phone, while the meeting was begun.
- Yeah…right, yeah. We already have some new material, and we discussed it with Tim, everything will be just peachy I swear. I have no idea, what the fuck are you doing there, but not here?
Dave lit his cigarette from the candle; he heard Martin’s laughter there, on the other side of the ocean. It seemed like a big ice rock burst inside his stomach.
- Mart, - he hoarse.
- Martin, Dave is asking you, - said Kessler.
Dave dropped the cigarette onto the floor, counting seconds and steps and his heart beatings, he wasn’t sure if he’d come. He was there. Shit.
- Yes, Dave? – His voice was even colder then the ice rock, Dave didn’t even recognize him at first.
- Mart, - his voice broke absolutely.
- Dave, are you all right? –His courteousness felt rather arrogant and Dave felt rage piercing him through and giving him strength.
- Fun-fucking-tastic, - he suddenly laughed, - Just fucking gorgeous. Outrageously gorgeous, I’ve never felt any better. Super-duper!
- It is a big pleasure to hear it, - Martin said.
They kept silence for several minutes. Dave tried to breath and Martin gazing at the crows on the top of the park tree over the office window.
- How’s your baby? – asked Dave.
- Good.
- Fucking Captain Boisvert?
- Dave, choose your expressions for she is my wife.
- Oh my, oh my, oh my, - Dave giggled, - forgive me, honey; I completely forgot about your legendary sensitivity to the words!
- What exactly do you want from me? – Martin’s voice showed no emotions. Dave ignored his question.
- Teresa left me, you know?
- I am very sorry. You were such a perfect pair.
Wow, sarcasm’s here. Well, finally gentle hint of some emotion.
- I wanted to ask you as my best friend, - Dave smirked, - and probably you could help me with the answer. Why did she do that?
- Heh-heh-heh, - Martin laughed out loud.
- Why, Mart? Why?
- Dave, I have no idea, - said Martin. So soon he closed himself from him again.
- Mart, I am alone.
- Dave, I think it won’t last long. Your life is in your hands. There are a lot of nice people around you, and your own charm is over any reasonable bounds. Don’t worry, everything gonna be all right soon.
- Bitch.
- Huh? – asked Martin.
- Is it so fucking hard to forgive?
- God forgive.
- I was forgiving you more.
- That’s a useless talk, Dave, probably you are right I am not standing in the position where I have a right to forgive or not. Apparently it was my fault…
- Don’t start this shit again…
- Don’t interrupt me!
- Yeah, I like it! YEAH! Show me your emotions…
Martin almost crashed the receiver of the table.
- I made him mad, - Dave happily laughed, - I finally made him mad.


The weather channel worked for fourth’s day in Los Angeles’s hotel room, Dave was staring at the TV with the dropped down jaw, his face showed deepest interest, although in his head it seemed very cool and unbelievable, he couldn’t break free for a minute.
They’ve discussed it with Buggs Bunny, a toy from Disney’s store, and with Tiny Man and the lion. He was aware to talk much with tiny man, because he seemed to be very bitchy by nature, and he was afraid of the lion, because he knew, he held a hidden intention to eat him.
One day followed another and they were similar. Probably it wasn’t a days, it was weeks or even months. Dave stopped to count days and hours, it lost its meaning. Everything has lost its meaning. But not his dealer’s of the chemistry phone calls. Dave felt deep interest in chemistry at some point, he mixed different proportions of cocaine and heroine and yes the speedball was better then anything. He discussed his achievements in modern chemistry with his toy friends.
But once he was bored with it.
- Listen, you, animal, - Dave once told to the Rabbit, - Talk to me. Nobody wants to talk to me. What are you talking about? I am sitting by the phone right from the moment I left the London’s street, since I left I am sitting by the phone like a fucking maid, waiting for her groom. He doesn’t know my number? You, plush brute, lie but understand what you are doing. I called him tomorrow…yesterday…ouch…today…I forgot it is too hard. Listen he didn’t pick up the receiver. What? Wha-a-at? He wasn’t home? Fuck it, he was, I bet he was. He knows that I will call him, every time, he just knows. He SHOULD be home when I am calling him. If he isn’t home, then it means that he don’t want to talk to me.
Dave stood up from his chair, looked under the chair where the Rabbit was sitting, then looked under the drawer too.
- Hush, - he put his finger to his lips and winked to Buggs Bunny, - What if someone overhearing? You know they have bugs everywhere…
Dave fell down into the couch and waved to a toy.
- He won’t come. He doesn’t need me anymore. I will die; he won’t lift his ass up off the chair. I’ll die and he won’t come to say goodbye. I am not needed anymore. CAN YOU HEAR ME, BEAST? HUH?
- I bet, - Dave jumped when someone knocked on his door silently; he opened the door and saw a girl, standing in the next room of his apartments.
- Who are you? – He asked her. She was dark-haired and in heavy make-up, and all in black. Probably a fan. But why is she in his apartment?
- I am Merrill, - she said.
- What are you doing here?
- Dave you invited me… - she was stammering and blushing.
- You are lying! – He pointed at her in denunciatory, - Everybody’s lying!
He shut the door right before girl’s nose.
- Buggs, nobody needs me…My wife said me to go and fuck myself…FUUCCCK MYYYSEEELLLFFF. – My son is despising me…they are laughing…huh…you are too funny, daddy. My child don’t give a shit about me…I am not his dad anymore, they all wiping the floor with me. What are you laughing at, you rag-doll? David is too funny? She told me, ya know…just between us, don’t tell anybody, she said, you’re unable to even have a hard on anymore…. It’s just I can’t get a hard on when I see you, bitch. BI-ITCH.
Dave went barefooted to the bathroom and opened a tap. He went down on his knees near the bath; he was staring enchantingly at the running water.
- Life is shit, Buggs. And I tell you it is shit. The Big Heap of Stinking Muck. Don’t tell me that I shitted it by myself, huh? All I ever wanted is to love and be loved, I want friends and job….fuck it, fuck them all…everything that I have now is my spoon…my spoon…and candle and the needle too. Uh…don’t mention his name more, not here, I don’t want to hear it anymore, it’s fucking hurts. Never mention his name in my house, shit, - Dave laughed, - I am talking bullshit, I have no house.
He returned to Buggs and squatted down before him.
- They forgot about me. Once upon a time there was Dave, but there is no more Dave, ha-ha-ha…you know what? I am already dead for him. Yeapp, I will send his regard to Jim Morrison up there, he will be flattered, - Dave laughed out loud again, - Don’t be afraid, Rabbit, he won’t come. I do not exist for him anymore; he forgot about me, they forgot about me, there is no Dave anymore. No, I do not exist.
He went to the bathroom again and got into the warm tub, wheezing.
- I will show you. Buggs! Besides, how’s the weather in London? Huh?
He meditatively stroked his hand, up and down with a blade, feeling a touch of steel, and this feeling calmed him a little, he pushed harder, sensing the grinning of blood. He turned his hand and shook it, seeing heavy drops of purple blood dripping on the snow-white bathroom tiles.
- Drop and drop, - he laughed, - Drop. Nope, that’s not fun at all.
He cut his hand deeper more.
- A-ha, that’s better, Martin…hello…do you still remember my name? MARTIE… MAR-R-RT…BUGGS I WON YA! LISTEN TO ME HE DON’T GIVE A FUCK…HE WON’T COME EVEN WHEN I’LL DIE! Dave is weak? You think Dave is weak; he is nothing but your puppet…but Dave won you. Dave will go that way, the rest of your life you will be sorry. Mart… fuck, Mart, why you are not here? Why are you not with me? MA-A-A-A-A-A-ART – he shouted, as if he could hear him, - M-A-A-A-ART! Whatever…I will shout out your name…I will call you, and nothing else matters. Martin. Martin. Mart.
He enthusiastically cut his wrist more and more slashed his skin in sudden seizure of a hate he felt to himself, still he found the result unsatisfactory. Blood flew harder and he cut himself once again feeling his fingers grew numb. And right in that moment, right before he slipped out into unconsciousness and fell down into the pool of his own blood, Dave finally understood what exactly he had done to himself. He yelled in panic, threw himself out of the hot tub leaving a blood trail wherever he could. All that poor Merrill could do to him was to call an emergency.


When pub’s walls begin to slowly move – the consciousness moved away too and it was good. There was a TV on and two haunters fought each other for the remote control to switch the channel. Football was over and there was nothing to watch.
Some weird music played loudly. Martin stared bluntly onto the TV with one eye, to not see double; he was sitting near the counter. Someone switch to the news and then Martin saw Dave’s face. Bold haunter switched the channel again, swearing this drugged buggers; Martin rushed to him, almost falling in his way, and took the remote control from him, without a word. News announced that ex-rock star Dave Gahan guided into the hospital because of his suicide attempt. The Bold man mothered Martin and took the remote control back. If he wasn’t sure that Martin dead drunk, he would hit his mug for sure.
Martin was violently shaking, when he moved away, his legs failed him and he fell down on his knees, he numbly felt tears on his cheeks. He hardly could comprehend what he was doing, when he began to hit his head against the floor, but the other people in the pub were rather surprised with his behavior.
- God! – he whispered almost inaudibly, praying like he could, - Forgive me, I beg you, forgive me all this, I can’t take it anymore, take my life because I just don’t need it. God, if you do exist, stop, stop your joking with me for I am too weak for your jokes, he had strengths to stop it but I can’t. I can’t make it by myself, but I can’t live like this no more…Forgive me.
Two big guys dragged him off from the nub, onto the street. He tried to resist.
- Get your fucking sleep, drunkard, - they advised him, leaving him lying on the street, near the garbage can, he drunkenly passed out, unable to stand up or call for help.


Was he surprised when he woke up in his own bedroom? The sun was shining brightly, he was lying across his own bed, fully dressed even in his boots, but still he was at home. Was he really surprised that Fletch was sitting on the arm-chair he cut his hair short and held his Viva on his lap?
- Che-e-eky monkey, - Fletch told Viva.
- Fletch? – asked Martin and rubbed his eyes.
- Fletch, - Fletch said.
- Is he… - Martin’s voice broke.
Fletch shook his head thoughtfully.
- They resuscitated him, - he said and his voice sounded a little bit sarcastic, - he was too scared. He didn’t want to.
- Oh, my…fuck…
- Go and turn yourself into some sort of human being, you, victim of the alcohol intoxication, you have half an hour before taxi to the airport will arrive.
- I-I-I can’t, - Martin moaned, - I can’t…it’s too fast…
- P-put yourself right, milksop!
- I won’t go, Fletch, I won’t.
- You will, - gloomily said Fletch, - or I will kill you, what do you think Viva?
Viva grabbed Fetch’s finger and laughed.
- Kill, then – Martin said melancholically.
- For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo, - Fletch quoted Shakespeare and laughed to his own joke.
- Fletch, what should I tell him? – Martin set up on the bed clutching his head in his hands, because painful spasm pierced it.
- It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t have a clue what’s going on anyway.
Martin sniffed and hid his face in his hands.
- Psychos, Good God, I’ve told you won’t survive without me. C’mon baby we will go to your nanny she has a nice surprise for her little Viva, let’s take a look?
Martin got drunk in the plane again, and slept through all ten hours of the flight trustfully buried his nose in Fletch’s shoulder.
It seemed unbelievable that Dave was still alive. He looked like a skeleton hanging on tubes of the dropper. Although, it was Dave. Tears blinded them all; Dave had just enough strings to open up his eyes. He inhaled convulsively.
- You’re alive, - Martin whispered, almost falling down on his knees near the hospital bed.
- Mart…you’ve come… - Dave smiled weakly, - you’ve nevertheless fucking come, Mart.
- Listen, you’d better call him next time when you will have an idea to see him, huh? – Fletch set down onto the chair near the bed and put his one ankle on top of his other knee.
- I called! – Dave yelled, so the nurse rushed to held the dropper straight.
- Dave…
The nurse made a sigh to Martin that they better leave now.
- We have to go…
- No… - Dave’s eyes sparkled wet, - Please don’t go.
Martin bent to him and kissed his forehead.
- I won’t go, Dave. I won’t go.
The nurse insisted and they left.
Time passed, Dave got better, and Daniel decided to gather him in studio again.
Virtually, since that moment there have to be Heaven for them, but against all laws it was Hell. Suddenly they realized that they have got something to loose. But death decided not to give up so easily.
They habits of persistent self-destruction for the long years rooted deep inside of them, not going cheap too. As Alexander of Macedon said when he won the Greatest Persian Empire, “To enter the Babylon was a lot easier then to leave it.”
They were recording one song for months. Dave was loosing his voice. He said that it was his new medication from his problem with his throat. He was out again and again to take his medications, or so he said, but it became worse and worse.
He began to suffer his swing of the mood; it seemed that the rehabilitation center didn’t help in a bit. When Martin asked him about drugs, he said no several times then hit his face and said that he fucked him up with his stupid questions. Of course he apologized later and suffered from his outbursts too.
He wasn’t able to keep in mind the song’s lyrics at all. He wasn’t able to keep in mind what month and what day is it now. He remembered him woke up one morning in some friend’s house, downstairs on the couch and their child asked him what is his name, and he couldn’t remember his own name. Just couldn’t.
They traveled through different studios, trying to find themselves. Job helped from time to time to forget all the shit that happened, Andy took his medications and started to drink, although it was forbidden to him and to Martin too. But soon Martin should go back home, because Susanne gave birth to his second child, Ava. And Andy moved to London too to do his business.
They vacation became too long.
Dave was hospitalized in apparent death from the drug overdose. But it seemed that God had a sick sense of humor indeed and he survived again. And he had to answer the Law for the drugs keeping.
At this time an Angel stepped into his life and her name was Jennifer.

Chapter 11

Every time, when Dave was thinking about Martin, his stomach started itching. Yes. It sounds stupid but that was the simple truth. As if somebody was sitting inside him and scratching him with tiny claws. Right here straight between his ribs. Where Mystics suppose the soul should be and Doctors insist that there is a solar plexus. It was tickling because of this scratching and chill was running down his spine. This feeling wasn't exactly erotic, may be it was fear, may be uncertainty and may be adrenaline. His cock did not rise, no. Nevertheless, that was a strange feeling, because though it wasn't completely sexual but still he started to realize what was between his legs. Somehow. And he started to feel with entire skin and body the air and the touch of clothes. Just as if he started to sense it suddenly.
He felt it the first time, when Clarke persuaded him to try himself as a vocalist for the band Composition of Sound. They drank several glass of beer; Vince was paying so Dave decided to try. They came to the guys. There were two lads, except Vince. Dave held out his hand:
- I’m Dave.
- Andy - said Andy and pouted his cheeks to look more impressive. He was red-head and very tall and skinny so it turned to be rather funny then impressive.
- Dave.
- Ma-a-artin, - second lad answered with little aspiration. It wasn’t intended it just was his way of pronouncing. His cat pronounced this way the sound that he is hungry. It was something between "meow" and "now", - Will you sing for us?
- "Heroes" - Dave sniffed, - I will sing "Heroes".

I will be king
And you
You will be queen
Though nothing
Will drive them away
We can be Heroes
Just for one day
We can be us
Just for one day*

Martin was staring at him almost not blinking. Dave was scared at first. Scared and confused with the intensity of his stare. Martin told him after that he just has bad eyesight. But now he was looking right at Dave’s face and smiling. Not because HE was smiling to him. He had very strange lips’ line. They were smiling by themselves without his participation or participation of his tiniest emotions. His smile existed independent from him. Dave could never get accustomed to it.
But this time the Cheshire Cat descended from Lewis Carroll's book, made him really nervous. Dave’s voice almost broke a few times, thanks God, hysterical manner of performance was just decorating this song, moreover there was even written in the score: "To perform higher an octave, desperately". Well and he was performing it. Desperately.

And you
You can be mean
And I
I'll drink all the time
'Cause we're lovers
And that is a fact
Yes we're lovers
And that is that.*

Martin approached him.
- I like you - he said looking somewhere above his head.
- I like you too…I mean you all, - Dave corrected himself.
- And I love Bowie, - Martin said.
- Uh…I’m…kinda… punk…but, yeah - Dave said, - Bowie is Bowie…yeah. By the way, my name is David too.
- I remember, David - Martin smiled, - will you come tomorrow to rehearsals?
- Uh, well…you mean I should?
Vince volunteered to take him home because he was like going the same way. Dave was inquiring him about Martin all the way. Somehow Vince turned out to be very taciturn. It was strange, because he seemed to be very communicative in the bar but probably this topic didn't find a response in his soul. Dave thought that it was rather odd, and the rest of the way they spent in silence.

I can remember
By the wall
And the guns
Shot above our heads
And we kissed
As though nothing could fall
And the shame
Was on the other side. Heroes' by D. Bowie.


They've just lain down to the bed but Martin somehow managed to fall asleep already wrapped in entire blanket with his head. Susanna had turned off the light of the bedside cream lamp, when the phone rang. She picked up a phone and not answering handed it to Martin's nose, sticking out from the blanked.
- Whassup? - He whispered frighten.
- Yours, - She whispered in return.
- Why? - He asked with indignation, because he didn't want to wake up at all.
- Because I don't have such psychos as my friends from the other side of the ocean who can call me at 3 o'clock a.m. - she pulled the blanket to herself seizing an opportunity, but Martin didn't notice it; - Does he ever heard anything about time zones?
- Dave? - Martin said into the receiver and shook his shoulders in answer to Susanne.
- Hush, - Susanna hissed at him, - Ava just fall asleep, get out of here.
Martin came out of the bed idly and shuffled to the bathroom, closing the door carefully.
- Well, hello, dear, - he said, - how are you?
Dave was telling for a long time about his new life, about his move to New York, about Jennifer, about her and now his adopted son, Jimmy. About the fact that Dave had worked on public works with courage he was sentenced to by a Los-Angeles court with a big fine for the drug-keeping.
- I love New York, - Dave told, Martin set down on a white fluffy carpet on a bathroom-floor and leaned his back against the doors of the wooden cupboard under the wash-basin, - Totally crazy city. No, it's not as fucked all up in obscene way as Los-Angeles of course, but it's different, yeah, different. You know, I won't ever change it on something else. Here. The air. It's in the air you fall in love with it forever and ever. This is complicated city, harsh, cruel, maybe, cynical, you can love it or you can hate it, but you won't stay indifferent to it. I remember then, when we were there the first time… when we were riding a car from the Kennedy airport, and the moment we saw the twin-towers, spotlight with sunset.
- Yeah? - Martin rubbed his forehead with the hand, - what a pity, we've finally decided to move to Santa-Barbara.
- Santa-Barbara? Oh, no, to the pathetic place for rich bitches…
- You're so sweet, David, - Martin replied in a pointed manner tenderly.
They both laughed out loud.
- But the best thing is that I've been clean more than half a year already. Jennifer was right the change of place where to live helps very much…
Martin yawned convulsively.
- How are you there? - Dave asked, - Are you, like, sleeping?
- A-ye, - Martin answered and yawned again, - Almost every second and in every position in rare moments when miss Ava becomes tired.
- I told you, that to have a little baby - is the best medicine from insomnia, and you didn't believe me.
Martin laughed.
- Listen, I think I'm going to visit London studio in a few days, the album should be finished somehow. My voice is much better, I work on it… and you will have a place to sleep.
They both laughed out loud.
- Dave, your suggestions are too seductive, - Martin grinned, - but I'm afraid to compose something now.
- Hey, stop it, Dave replied, - I swear, I'm alright, I won't let you down.
- I believe, - Martin said, - But I'm afraid. And more than this, I have songs only from Disney cartoons in my repertoire the recent half a year, I'm afraid that this experience will be a fatal test for Depeche Mode.
Susanne opened the door in a bathroom, her black hair were tattered and laying on shoulders in disorder.
- Are you going to sleep tonight or what? - She asked.
- Wait, - he answered, and waved his hand, and told into the receiver, - Yeah, it’s Susanne. Susanne, Dave says hello to you.
- Ah, that was so surprisingly lovely of him; - she said in a strange voice, - kiss him from me.
She stepped up to the sink and moved Martin away with her hip easy, observing herself in a mirror. He grabbed her by the leg and kissed her bare thigh shows in a slit of a short silk night-dress.
- You've been talking for an hour already… men… - she said, - and you say that women like to talk… - although, her behavior was contradicting the meaning of her words, she moved her hips making Martin's hand slide higher up her leg on the inner side. And higher more.
- Ma-arti-in, - she whispered, bending in a small of her back, - don't, - but the tone of her voice with voluptuous aspiration was uttering the opposite meaning and proving the fact that he should continue instead. He moved his hand higher.
- Dave, listen, I'll call you back later, - Martin said, suddenly hurried up, - ok?


They were recording Home.
Dave was pacing to and fro, eating bananas and singing under his nose everything he was thinking of. He didn't understand a word in this song and it made him angry more than anything. Some reporter asked him recently the meanings of Martin Gore's songs, Dave answered honestly, that nobody knows what the meaning and nobody knows why he is writing them and that’s beyond the reach of the human mind. And that he is making him to sing it. And he wanted to add something else because he was in a bad mood, but the reporter had urgently retired.
There was a smell of burned rubber because of overheated wires in the studio where audio operators were sitting mixed with Martin's cigarettes and Martin’s perfume. And banana shells in the dust bin were stinking too. The air-conditioner was hardly working; here in the damn Europe nobody seemed to know why to use it. The sugared and weird smell of it all was irritating.
Tim was sitting at the control panel and he was looking in the computer's monitor concentrated.

Here is a page from the emptiest stage
A cage or the heaviest cross ever made
A gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid
And I thank you for bringing me here
For showing me home**

- Tim, listen, buddy, why am I here? - Dave asked darkly.
Tim looked at him and rubbed his nose. There was strange whitish spot of the unknown etymology on his T-shirt; he was yellow-teethed and unshaved. He had abnormal eyes, to all appearances, he was creating something and not for a first 24 hours. He took a sip of the cold espresso:
- Have a cigarette? - He asked huskily.
Dave gave him a cigarette. Tim inhaled and coughed.
- Well, Tim, listen, here I'm out of place, Martin writes, Martin heads, Martin sings. Fletch read exchange bulletins; they can cope without me very well.
- And who will guzzle down bananas? - Tim hoarse - I won't survive without a smell of decaying banana shells. My inspiration will leave me.
- Fu-u-uck, - said Dave.
- Don't go into hysteric, - said Tim, - I was kidding.
- Tim.
- Dave.
- Ti-im.
- Da-ave.
Dave cast banana shell into the bucket near Tim's feet.
- Dave, you posses amazing energy, you have talent, you have voice. Dave, you're the face of Depeche Mode, you are Depeche Mode, do you understand? No one can sing these songs, as you do.
- A-ha, - Dave said gloomy.
- Martin is always saying that too.
- Blah-blah-blah.
- No blah-blah-blahs. But to everyone and almost every time and he even told you you, but you prefer not to hear. He says that without you it doesn’t make any sense. It doesn't exist.
- Ai… ya know, sometimes he can say words even I believe… but sometimes... - Dave said. Tim grinned.
- Hey, guys, do not do it again, - said Tim, taking one more sip of coffee. Daniel comes tomorrow. His health is bad, even without your help don’t drive him to take his nervine medications again. He didn't forgive you for how you abused Flood during Songs of Faith and Devotion recording.
- How come? - Dave asked, still offended.
- How come… - Tim mocked him, - I know how inhumanly mean you were with Flood. No, I don't know exactly what were you doing with him and I'm not sure that I want it to know. But I know that half a year you were doing fucking nothing. You were behaving like total degenerates and hardly destroyed everything within a radius of ten miles around.
Dave sniffed.
- Ah, yeah, I have a hazy recollection of something. I was leaving my room very occasionally.
- Aha, - Tim said, - Gareth told me about the tour. You all nearly died there in the full sense of the word, appending half time in some hospitals one after another. Only Dave was feeling good, he was on another planet.
- I nearly died too, - Dave said offended.
- You stupid girl finally found what to be proud of, - Tim gloomy joked.
Dave laughed.
- As a matter of fact, you're right. Once I saw Flood, I was carrying my clothes to the laundry-room and found him there. He was sitting in the corner between the washing machine and the dryer, holding his legs up to his chest and crying. There were his trampled glasses near him. I remember it, I asked him, if probably something happened but he had just shook his head and said nothing. Then I thought that may be his pacific motives were leading him and he meddled into the usual Mart and Al’s Evening Carnage, thus they tore him by accident because strengths were not equal.
Tim pensively belched.
- Sorry, - he said. - You are wicked cruel bitches and terrible obnoxious dogs. Although you seem so sweet and kind, cultured and polite people at first sight. Who could ever believe?

God send the only true friend I call mine
Pretend that I'll make amends the next time
Befriend the glorious end of the line.**

Daniel visited them. He was gloomy. They were imitating creative orgasm with all their might not to let Tim down. Fletch's mug had swelled up from antidepressants though he was hitting one string of the bass-guitar like an evil maniac all day long. Martin was in a traditional condition "a little stiff after yesterday" but he was frowning his eyebrows diligently imitating brain activity and he was drinking liters of coffee to stifle the smell of alcohol. He wore his hair in a crop and actually reminded of a patient of a soul asylum. However Dave with sacks under his eyes and with flabby mug wasn't looking any healthier. Somewhere in the middle of the day they were already out of energy, Martin over-drunk coffee but as a paradox his eyes became dull and he crawled under the table and fallen asleep like a log. They tried to awake him, but it was useless, in the end they've just closed him up with cardboard boxes around the table, hoping that Daniel won’t notice him.
Daniel went to Denmark. He didn't say anything to them and perhaps it was even better.

A week passed.
Dave was talking to Jennifer by the phone for an hour, later he was telling Martin about her for the same period of time, sitting in the arm-chair and rocking nervously.
- Jennifer? - Martin asked, standing on his knees and squeezing a cable in his teeth, and some others in his hands and putting them one by one into the plug in of the synthesizer placed on a floor, - Jennifer is an angel. Angel incarnate. I'm ready to pray to her. I don't know how to pray, but I will try.
Dave dragged the cigarette and exhaled the smoke up slowly.
- Are you jealous? - He wondered.
- No, - Martin answered. He got up from the knees and shook his pants down.
- Why? - Dave asked persistently, extinguishing the cigarette in the ashtray unpleasantly.
Martin raised his eyebrow thoughtfully, stepped closer and bended above Dave, leaning on the arms of his arm-chair.
- And. Where. Will you. Hide. From. Me? - Martin said making long pauses between the words. Dave had lost his breath at once because of Martin's impudence and self-confidence, his closeness and because of his goddamn cynical rightness too, - You live your life, - Martin continued, - Take your time, Dave, I'll be waiting. I have all the time in the world, and you know there's not so much to do.
The phrase hit Dave on his head with a strange deja vu, and made the brittle sense of reality even more unreal. He sensed Martin's warmth he sensed the smell of his skin. This sense was so familiar, so precious that tears had nearly fallen from his eyes.
He felt like he was chilled to the bone and injured everything by a frost-bite, nut finally found his home. Warm, cozy and sweet home at Christmas. No matter if something was wrong there in some moments, but though your home can be the only one. Dave was fidgeting on a his arm chare trying to get more comfortable, his body was reacting on Martin's closeness by a growing languid and harmfully slowly creeping pleasure, reviving his body like a numb arm being massaged, when it starts to sense the touch of the fingertips, thawing out like freeze fingers, with the pain and pleasure from growing sensitivity.
Martin lowered his eyes, noticing Dave's movements. His heavy stare went down onto Dave's fly. Dave had lost his breath. The blood with a rapid torrent flew to where it shouldn't, making his pants stretch harder, outlining the great contour, oh, no, the blood flew to where it should of course, but still Dave was hoping that some part of it stays at his cerebrum, because nobody would ever teach him better then Martin that sometimes it's very useful to be on his guard with the best friend more than with anyone else. Especially if your best friend’s name is Martin.
Martin kept on starring at Dave's balls, obviously not feeling any discomfort. Dave felt himself paralyzed under Martin's gaze, unable neither to break the silence nor to change the position, unable even to move his legs together. He felt himself irritated because of Martin's aggressive domination.
- You'd better be jealous, - Dave said all of sudden.
- As you wish, - Martin smiled and stepped back at once.
- Why? - Dave asked, clenched his teeth and leaping up from the arm-chair, - Answer me - he suddenly went mad. He didn't like that Martin stepped back so fast and even worse, the fact that it was that harmful to him.
- Sorry? - Martin wondered.
- Where were you when I needed you most? Where? - Dave's voice became louder, - I was calling for you. But she came instead. She saved me, not you. Why?
Martin was looking at him, there was no any muscle twitched on his face. He was looking silently for a long time. So long that Dave suddenly realized that Martin wasn't going to answer.
- Answer me, - he wheezed. He had lost his voice.
- You know I hate to defend myself, - Martin said, - and I hardly will start it now.
- A friend in need is a friend indeed, Martin. You understand that that's impossible to forget? There are things that will never be forgiven.
- Yes, you are right. So what's the point to ask the forgiveness then? - Martin said in a strange tone.
Dave stepped up very close to him, his face turned red, there was a lump in his throat, he hardly breath. He grabbed Martin by the shoulders with both hands.
- Don't…do. Don't do this… to me. Don't do this… to people. Don't be so cold, Mart, don't.
He couldn't look Martin into the face because it turned to a stone mask.
- Don't you feel anything? Nothing makes sense for you…
- Perhaps, you're right, - Martin said, his voice didn't tremble, though he was hardly picking up the words, - there aren't much things that make sense for me. I love you, David, and virtually I care about nothing else.
Dave screamed as though feeling a pain:
- DON'T YOU DARE TO TELL ME THIS! YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT!!! You don't have the right to tell this, you only lie. AND YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, DAMN YOU, WHAT YOU ARE PLAYING WITH… DON'T YOU DARE! THIS IS NOT A GAME… damn, this is not a game.
He didn't feel tears falling from his eyes. Martin's eyes stayed dry.
- As you wish, Dave, - he said hardly audible.

The heat and the sickliest sweet smelling sheets
That cling to the backs of my knees and my feet
Well I'm drowning in time to a desperate beat **

Dave spoke to Jennifer in the evening again. He felt some relief. His stepson, Jimmy, hardly blew up school toilet with the detonating cartridge, she was telling about her fight with the school direction colorfully and for a long time. He laughed even. All in all, there are much more important things in life, than these idiotic relationships they were inciting each other every time leading them to the blind alley.
He had a new life, new love, new sense, and now he wouldn't sacrifice anything to the shady pleasure of screaming at nights from pleasure that was passing the borderline to pain. For this fucking insanity, when their souls and their minds had nothing to hide from each other. For those humiliations he was taking infinitely, boundlessly, losing all control, leaded by the instinct to get more intimacy. For the physical feeling that he is dying, cumming. And after that, when they would return to their senses from the love fever they would start again to tore up their souls to the blood and meat with fanatic and inventive force again, because it was impossible to possess physically or mentally somebody's soul more. But the thirst was stronger than the common sense. A trivial orgasm, experienced in every accessible and inaccessible form was turning into the metaphysical act of soul possession. For it to stop scratching between his ribs and flow like warm milk through his veins, to shine through the pores, like sunlight. For the pleasure of feeling Him inside, in his head, of feeling him with his skin, for befuddling with this feeling of dependence. He hasn't enough strength to fight this drug alone.
- Honey, please, come here, - he whispered, - no, everything's alright, really, don't worry; I just miss you so much.
The moment he hang up the receiver, the phone rang again.
- Jen? - He whispered.
- This is Mart, - the receiver established mercilessly.
- Something happened, Mart?
- Uhm…no. Sorry, I've disturbed you, I'd better call later, I…
- No-o-o-o!!! - Dave shouted - Wait!!!
Mart fell silent.
- What's up, Mart?
- Just a folly, - he said.
- Mart, you did want something… - Dave repeated pressingly.
- Listen, I'm sorry, I don't want to disturb you…this is my folly, - Mart repeated.
- Hey, disturb me already, huh? - Dace said.
- I'm a fool…
- A-ye?
- I think I've lost my wallet somewhere… I don't know. We were at yours yesterday with Andy, remember? I understand it sounds absurdly but I thought I could leave my jacket there…
- I'll look for it, where could you leave it?
- I can’t remember I'm really sorry that I'm disturbing you.
- You're not disturbing me at all, Mart.
- May be in the hall?
- I'm looking and searching, but no, there is nothing there and here…
- Damn, I'm so embarrassed.
- It's alright. Alright. Mart, what color is it? - Dave grinned, looking over the hall closet, - Mart, black or…black?
- I'm not sure…but I think, probably, it's black, Dave.
They both laughed.
- Ouch, it is here, now it's alright, don't worry…yes. Shall I bring it to you now?
- No, you needn't to, pack it in, later, it's not so important, I just wanted to know, I thought, I've lost it…can you bring it tomorrow to the studio?
- Of course, Mart.
- Thank you, Dave.
- Don’t mention it, Mart, it was my pleasure.
- I will…
- Mart?
- Yes?
- Listen.
- Yes?
- It was really my pleasure. I…
- Dave…
- Mart, would you…do you want me to look for something else for you?
Dave swallowed a lump in his throat.
- Yes, - Martin whispered.
Dave was feeling that under his protest, a happy smile spread across his face.

Feels like home
I should have known
From my first breath **Home be Martin L.Gore.


Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out alone
Riders on the storm***

This song was playing quietly in the car. Dave stopped the car at the verge.
- There? - He asked.
- Uh…I think…probably, yes, - Martin said, looking through the papers, placed on his knees. He looked through the windscreen uncertainly shifting his sunglasses down, - There, take right, yeah, there should be a turn behind the tree.
- This way?
- No, not this way, that way.
- It should be behind the garden, or so you said.
- It IS behind the garden.
- This house is before the garden. There is a difference, you know, between words behind and before.
- Why the bloody hell are you picking on my words?
- Am I picking? Hey, you fucking can articulate nothing.
- I've fucking articulated it for five times already, it can't be more fucking articulately at all.
- And what exactly did you say? The house is near the fucking river and we've come into the wrong town.
- Well, I've muddled myself then, but there was a fucking river.
- Listen, Mart, are you imbecile, or what? How did you manage to stay alive to those declined years of yours with your amputated brain?
- Look who’s talking now, Dave, and you should be Fucking Professor. May I attend your lessons, Professor Fucking? Teach me some how to live a good life.
- My last name is Gahan.
- As you wish, Professor Fuck…
- Can’t you shut up first if just once, you cunt?
- Suck my dick.
- Cad.
Suddenly Martin grabbed Dave by the hand.
- STOP! Dave, stop the car!
- Why?
- Here is my fucking river.
- Fuck you and your fucking river too.
Martin unfolded the map thoughtfully, turned it upside down, and then turned it over back.
- And now we should go this way, - he pointed somewhere above the windscreen.
Dave laid his head on his hands; his fingers were tapping the wheel nervously.
- Right into the river? Are you sure that it is really necessary?
- Why? Can't you take the road?
- Why don't you drive by yourself, honey?
- I can’t.
- You mean you haven't learned to drive a car till now?
- What for?
- Of course, what for, when there are so many people for your evil experiments around?
- What the fuck are you screaming at me?
- You are screaming!
There appeared to be a pin-drop silence for a few minutes. Dave saw out of the corner of his eye Martin's shoulders. They were shaking, as he was hiding his face not to laugh too unconcealed, Dave was angry at first, like, fucking bitch all he can do is laugh but soon he couldn't restrain the uncontrolled laugh by himself.
Soon they've finally found the house they were searching for. Dave drove to the house and stopped the car near the garage. Martin went out and opened the boot. He took a huge box with CDs and walked by a lawn to the house.
- Hey and why not to enter home through a garage?
- Why the hell should I know how it opens? There was some automatic remote… somewhere…I think.
Dave mothered him and extracted another box from the boot, and was standing for a long time trying to hold a huge box with his knee and one hand, and extracting keys from his pocket to switch the signaling on.
- Forget it, Dave, this is not New York don’t worry to leave your car open on the street here, - Martin shouted.
Dave slipped the keys back in the pocket gloomy and walked to an entrance. He came in and placed a box on a floor near the stairs. Martin went somewhere. Dave was humming the Doors' song.

[i]Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If ya give this man a ride
Sweet memory will die
Killer on the road, yeah ***

He was observing contents of Martin’s box with interest when Martin returned back with the third box.
- Mart, why are you are listening those shit all the time? - Dave asked.
- No shit but history, Dave.
- And where are Punks? Where? Well, if only Iggy, yeah, I see, Lou Reed too... and where is the…
- Dave, - Martin said, walking upstairs, - Music history knows a lot of genius composers, not only Sex Pistols.
- CLASH! - Dave corrected him with indignation, grabbing a box and following Martin upstairs; - Not Sex Pistols their name is The Clash!
- What the fucking difference? Iggy is worth ten Clashes.
- You're wrong.
- I am right, - Martin cut short.
Dave shut up, taking offence, and kept on humming his song.

Girl, ya gotta love your man
Girl, ya gotta love your man
Take him by the… COCK! *** The Doors "Riders on the Storm"

Martin looked askance at him across the shoulder from the upper site of the stairs.
- Well, you see, it sounds better, huh? Cock… More truthful? - Dave said.
- Ah, yeah? - Martin wondered.
- Yeapp, - Dave answered, - I'm sure Morrison meant that. What the fuck he would mean hand…what's the shit? Take him by the hand make him understand… what can a man understand if you'll take him by the hand? ... Take him by the cock… yeah, baby, ha-ha. Jimmy meant exactly this, I know for sure. I feel him like nobody does… Martin, and where are you supposed to be now? What's that Fucking Maze you have here? Hello, Mister Go-ore? Captain, will you give me a compass to find a latrine at night? Or I will piss into some flowerpot with a rare tree from Sumatra, or something.
- Just try - Martin said unusually friendly, appearing unexpectedly from the other side, not where Dave was calling, and took a box back, - you can get comfortable, feel yourself at home, the living room had already been furnished.


They've finished talking long time ago but Dave was still sitting on the floor of his big empty London flat squatted down stupidly pressing the telephone against his chest. It would be a big overestimate to say that he was thinking about something. He was just sitting and looking nowhere. He wasn't feeling bad, he was feeling good. He didn't want to think about anything. He was just drowning in this sensation like in clouds of candy-floss.
The doorbell rang.
He thought it was probably his order from the Chinese restaurant, automatically stood up tipping his pockets in search for tips money. Then he raised his eyes and was struck dumb.
Martin was standing in front of him. He was pensively gnawing at his finger and saying nothing. His knitted cap was pulled almost on his nose. Dave opened the door wider, but Martin didn't even stir he was just looking at him almost not blinking. Dave grabbed him by the collar of his sweater and dragged into the room. Martin grabbed Dave’s waist to prevent his fall. Dave slammed the door and grasped his lips with a groan.
- Baby, - he whispered, - my baby.

Chapter 12

The air blast of excitement made a short circuit in his nerves and knocked out all protective devices with the ringing in his ears. Dave was panting. The tiny part of his brain was truly offended by his body’s hysterical reaction, being unhealthily turned on in second only by a thought of future sex. He was feverishly grabbing Martin, clutching the sheets on the bed with his both hands, as hard as he could, he wasn’t thinking what he was doing, making Martin not delay, not hesitate no more and not stand upon ceremony, yelling him to do anything, otherwise he will fucking come right now and without his fucking help.
From this time it was happening traditionally. Once in two weeks, in hotels, it was lasting several minutes. No one was hurrying them, but they forgot the last time they have kissed. Today they’ve managed to take off their trousers, and it was evident progress. One movement, another one and another and he felt like burning waves of orgasm raggedly pushing his blood up in his veins with the pressure of the steamer.
Later, Martin just rolled off him and they were lying down, side by side, panting. Dave was thinking that they deceived him a long-long time ago, and swindled and played a cruel trick on him, when they said that time is deadening feelings. No, some feelings were deadening in time but why no one told him about this trick. No one warned him that erotic impulse had a short way into the excitement center his brain was turned into getting one or another familiar signal. Those signals hit him harshly and immediately right into the solar plexus taking away the ability to think and to breathe. Fast sex without prelude and tenderness – rushing up higher to the climax feeling more like painful spasms, just to fall down, find a breath, loosing his interest in everything around, to feel a sudden rush of fucking hot blood again from every little thing, from the sound of His voice, from the turn of His head, from His occasional touch. And even worse. He became turned on from the banal smell of the hotel rooms, because it started to mean sex for him.
Dave turned his head to the window. Sunbeams hardly showing through closed satin curtains color of the baked milk. Painfully familiar LA’s Four Seasons’ suite with high ceiling, modeling walls all in golden white.
- This chandelier is like in Paris Grand Opera, - said Dave, bringing his hands over his head, staring at the ceiling.
- That one that fell down on audience’s heads and they all died? – asked Martin, laying in the similar pose gazing at the chandelier.
- When? – Dave asked frightened, - I didn’t watch news for a long time.
- Uhm,… - said Martin, - You know, it’s not a news’ repertoire. It’s more like Carnegie Hall’s repertoire, I think. The Phantom of the Opera.
- Oh, fuck, you scared the shit off me, fucking musicals, - Dave giggled, - I thought something had happened. Why? So this Pinocchio in mask was fucking hit by the chandelier?
- They say. It was a real story from in the beginning of twentieth century.
Martin’s cellar phone rang. Dave wanted to say something, but Martin put his finger up to his lips, asking Dave to keep silence, turned around and grabbed his trousers that fell somewhere onto the night -table.
- Yes? Yes, honey I will be home tomorrow. No everything’s alright, just need to do something here. Yes. Santa-Monica, - Dave raised his eyebrow in surprise, - Weather? - Martin thoughtfully gazed into the thin line of light between the curtains, - The weather is fine, I think. Okay. Yes. No, I won’t forget to visit a bank. No, this time I won’t.
Dave set up on the bed and showed his hands with crossed fingers right before Martin’s face, shaking his head, his facial expression means «A-ye…Like we gonna trust you this time». Martin needed a big effort to hide his smirk.
- What? Who am I with? Oh honey, of course I am alone. Kiss my girls from me, tell them daddy miss them much.
Dave hid his face in his hands and fell down onto pillows. Martin showed him his fist in silent threat. Then he pushed the off button and hid put cellar phone onto the bedside table.
- So you are in Santa-Monica then, - Dave repeated.
Martin shook his shoulders in silence.
- Your wife hates me; - Dave pouted his lips thoughtfully looking at the ceiling.
- For what exactly she might love ya? – Martin retorted.
- HEH-HEH-HEH – spelling clearly each sound said Dave, - your influence, huh? Well…if to think…probably…
- Because you are desperately in love with her for so long? – Martin tried to help him.
Dave laughed out loud, and Martin too in his own genuine manner and Dave decided that it is not repeatable in any case.
- You know, my studio improvement is almost over, let’s go and see? – said Martin, laying on his side and propping his head with his fist.
- Santa-Monica?
- No, Santa-Barbara.
- Triumph of Royal Idleness? Home studio… - Dave smirked, - what about lion skins and brazen cups and leather couches?
- Mmmm…yeah, - Martin said, - I’ve already thought about leather couches.
- Leather couches are hot, - said Dave.
- Mmmm…yeah, - Martin repeated smirking, some purring notes became audible now in his voice, and Dave realized in terror the fatality of this attack of boiling lust inside, getting him high like an ideal substitute for drug. He turned to Martin and kissed his mouth hot, grabbing his head with his hands and messing his fingers with his hair, not because of tenderness, but just knowing for sure that Martin couldn’t stand this caress.


Although this Cheshire cat appeared to be very sociable. Dave thought it was a really nice surprise. Because Vince was rather taciturn by nature, but when he started to talk to Dave, Dave became to feel himself uncomfortable. Vince treated him like a clinical idiot or a little girl, or so Dave felt. He didn’t know, though. But Vince’s stare sometimes was too steadfast and estimating. And he looked at Martin in such manner too, but Martin wasn’t too embarrassed by that, actually he just didn’t give a shit. At least, he seemed self-confident and calm as a heavy tank and killingly coolly hearty with Vince. Somehow Dave felt Martin behavior was irritating Vince, even if he prefer better to hide it.
At the end of the week Andy almost scared the shit off Dave. He met Fletch at the Garage, the red-head pointed at him with his index finger and told with a trumpet voice of Archangel and without a shade of smile in his face:
- And that was given to Him to put a spirit into the shape of the Beast for the Beast to talk and act for everyone who won’t be worshipping the image of Beast would be killed, - Andy’s eyes were sparkling, - Those who have minds, count the number of the Beast, for it is the number of the Man, a number of six hundred sixty six. Protect yourself from the Beast! – Accusatorily he said.
Dave grabbed a door-handle.
- Mama, born me in, - he said.
Martin came from behind unnoticeable and pinched Dave’s side and whispered to his ear.
- Don’t be afraid, Fletch has a wicked sense of humor.
- Andy-y… - tenderly and reproachfully said Martin to Fletch, coming into the garage, and Fletch’s face found its humanity, enlightened with a broad smile. Vince measured Martin up and down with his angry stare, moving synthesizer from one corner of the room to another.
- Need help? – Martin asked Vince.
- No, thank you, - unctuously said Vince and this too sweet tone of his voice meant to show Martin the depth of his insult.
- Fuck, you scared me, - said Dave, shaking his head following Martin to his way to Vince and grabbing the side of the synthesizer, imitating help, - Fletch, what did you drink before that?
- Hah-hah-hah, - said Fletch, - Fear the God, sinners! Or so John the Revelator said.
- How’s your bump, Fletch? Gone? – Martin was almost purring.
- Yeah, better, - Fletch suddenly frowned and his desire to talk was gone for good.
Dave came to Martin’s house to pick him up at Saturday morning to gad a little around the town, because there was nothing to do, or so he explained. When they were moving down the street Martin told him what had happened two days before.
- Fletch and Vince were telling the Gospel in some fast-food, were local rockers were spending their time, so I’d say they kicked our guy’s asses pretty hard.
Dave laughed.
- Fletch is nuts.
- Fletch is a nice fellow, - Martin retorted.
- Then you are nuts too, - Dave giggled.
Martin smiled.
- Probably that’s why I liked you most, - Dave added, - Tell me, Martin, is he dangerous?
- What do you mean?
- I mean how many men or women had he murdered already?
- Mmm… - Martin started thinking, - actually I though that his religious convention doesn’t approve manslaughter, but even if…you know, I think hardly more then a dozen, huh? Don’t be afraid, I will protect you, - he said looking at Dave’s round eyes.
- HEY! – Dave giggled and shoved Martin’s side with his elbow, - you did me, huh? Damn, you are making fun off me, you bastard…
Martin smiled rather self-satisfied.
They went to the empty soccer stadium, set down onto an almost broken wooden bench. Dave opened the beer bottle against the bench and drank a little, then exhaled.
- Fucking good.
- Life loves us, - added Martin, lowering his bottle, - Listen, Dave I wanted to ask you…
- Huh?
- Why there are no lessons in your art school at Saturdays?
Dave rubbed his nose pensively.
- Actually, it was a sort of an overstatement from my side to tell you that I am still studying, Mart.
- I see, - said Martin, - for how long?
- A year. Mom didn’t have an idea for a long time, - added Dave.
Martin smirked.
- No more questions.
- School sucks, - said Dave in his defense.
- I must agree.
- No, really…
- So last year you were just loafing about?
- Not that simple, - Dave giggled, - Me and Mark, ya know, my best friend, we are hanging around some clubs and concerts, ya know, chicks, we kinda very busy lads…
- How are you finding an answer to the vulgar question of gold? – asked Martin.
- What? – Dave wondered.
- Where are you taking your money from? – Martin specified.
- Police knows, - Dave dragged a smoke from the cigarette, showing with all his look the depth and courage of his secret, - What are you gonna do in your life?
- Me? – Martin asked saddened a bit, - Like-a will go to the bank college.
- Wanna be a banker?
- Uhm…I think…probably...yes, - Martin said, - actually, no, not really.
- They will take you?
- Appeared so. I had good marks at school.
- Straight A student? – Dave laughed.
- Kind of, - Martin nodded, - I was in Germany some years ago, for my achievements in German.
- That’s cool, - Dave said, - really cool. How’s Germany?
- Uhm…. – Martin was thinking, - Germany is cool.
Then he seemed to remember something and he giggled.
- You know, I was at some village and that was wicked, I even was milking a cow.
- Whom were you milking?
- A cow.
- Hah… How was that?
- You know…it was a very…interesting sensation.
Dave giggled.
- What about her…errm… how it calls….nipple? I mean its diameter?
- Uhm…well, - Martin started, doomed from the beginning because he already knew where Dave was heading at, - Just like that… - he showed with his fingers.
- Hah-hah-hah, - said Dave, - It looks like, you know what…
Martin scratched his curly head.
- It does, - said Martin but he looked rather confused.
Dave was roaring with laughter, he almost fell off the bench.
- Fu-u-u-u-u-uck, - he moaned holding his tummy with his one hand, and bumping his knee with the other, - fucking intere-e-esti-i-ing exercise. Ha-ah…
Martin face turned red, he turned away from Dave. Dave put his hand on Martin’s shoulder.
- Huh, Mart, ya know… - Dave said and butted him by his head into his temple, - you are cool. Do you have a girlfriend?
- No.
- Why?
Mart shook his shoulders.
- Have no idea, - he said, - somehow I did not succeed at that. Probably they think I am a fright.
- Have you lost your mind somewhere?
- I don’t know, - Martin turned away again, - They don’t like me.
- Bullshit!
- Why bullshit? – Martin was offended, - I asked one girl, my neighbour if she want to be my girlfriend, she looked at me like I am nuts. Actually I was into her for a pretty long time, - he said trustfully, - Well, sort of writing some poems. It seemed she liked them. But when I asked her to be my girlfriend she just suggested me to better fuck off.
- That was just wrong chick, - Dave said.
- No, - said Martin, - she’s beautiful, all my class was chasing about her.
- I tell you, wrong chick, - Dave repeated, - Don’t be too upset, shit happens. It doesn’t mean that you are a fright. You are not.
- Yeah? – Mistrustfully asked Martin.
- Fuck me, I bet, - Dave said, - If I was a girl, - explosively he assumed, - I would agree for sure. Yeah, right. I’ll tell you more if I was a chick I will let you shag me at first date!
Martin looked at him wary, very quickly and Dave almost choked. Suddenly he noticed that Martin’s eyes were green. Actually he never could say which color were one’s eyes, and he hasn’t had an idea how this rubbish could be seen or remembered. But this time he noticed. He became to feel himself a little bit uncomfortable.
- Did I say something wrong? – He asked just in case.
Martin shook his head as saying “No”.
- Thank you very much, Dave, - very seriously he said.
- Oh, c’mon… - Dave was dreaming now only to change the subject, - Mart, let’s go to my rascally crew, huh? C’mon, you will meet some normal chicks they are not that cold like yours, ya know, and lads are quite cool, huh?
Martin nodded.


They went two blocks down by the street to some derelict construction site, climbed over the fence. In the middle of the construction site there was a rather cozy area near the metal barrel, there were some guys sitting. Music was playing loud in a bitten up recorder. One lad in a shabby leather jacket was sitting on the turned upside down wooden box; he was violently shaking his head in the air in time with the ragging bit. Dave sneaked up to him from behind and yelled right into the lad’s ear.
- Oi to the Punks!
- Oi! – The lad yelled in answer, jumping up and turning to them, - I fucking had a myocardial infarction. Fuck. Almost shitted on my pants, Dave, you moron, stop doing it.
Dave laughed.
- Mart, this is my best friend. Mark, this is Mart, I’ve told you about him before.
They shook their hands.
- Cool hair, - Mark said with a hoarse voice, pointing on his head with some envy, - Always stands up?
- Yeah, just never falls down, - Martin smirked.
Dave laughed again.
- The Booze! - He said and pulled a bottle of vodka from his jacket, - Got glasses?
Martin shook hands with other two gloomy punks with pierced with the clasp-pins ears, wearing painted ripped jeans, they were looking at him with muddy eyes and they seemed to be somewhere else. Later he brought to himself and Dave pair of wooden boxes from the other side of the hangar.
Mark searched somewhere for some pretty used paper cups from the coffee automat near the cafe right aside the service station. He thoughtfully breathed on them and carefully rubbed them with the sleeve of his jacket.
- Fucking Bohemian Crystal! – He said, - don’t be a chicken everything’s gonna be disinfected soon.
Mark handed paper cups full of vodka both to Dave and Martin. The punk with bright red hair pulled out his hand with the glass, but the second one fell asleep already. Martin grabbed his rather dirty cup with courage, although some confusion was seen in his face. But only for a second.
- Booze’s connecting people! – Mark said and toppled his cup. Dave and Martin followed him.
- OH…SHI-I-I-IT! – Yelled Dave with rapture, panting for breath, - fucking good.
Martin sniffed into his sleeve with some delicacy, hiding tears swelling in his eyes and quickly and silently handed his cup to Mark for more vodka.
- Huh, - Mark said, - look, he is one of us through and through!
And made Martin’s cup full again.
Martin couldn’t quite remember how this evening ended up, but he recalled that then some guys came to their place and some girls too. He didn’t remember how did they look like but he remembered that he communicated with all them very heartedly, they all seemed so nice and sweet to him. Even drugged out, sleeping punk. Then they four, with some almost bold guy in military boots with white shoe-laces, they called him Doubloon went to search for more drinks. Martin asked, why did the call the guy Doubloon, Dave said that it was because he was Irish, but Mark laughed so hysterically, Martin understood that they were making fun of him and stopped the topic.
The night was dark. All stores were closed for a long time and Dave with Doubloon tried to steal some booze, after they broke a show-window of the Mr. Atkins’s Liquor Store. Alarm signal was ringing loudly and they rushed away onto different sides, stumbling and falling down from time to time, agreeing to meet on the waste near the construction site. And Martin remembered very clearly that they fucking crashed this coffee automat near the cafe in the end of the night too. Without any specific reason.
He found himself in the morning rolling into a ball lying in the hall on the floor. Something keeps his back warm. He turned his head and almost screamed from the terrible headache and saw his dog, which probably wanted to show him some sympathy and rolled into a ball near him, back to back. His mother stopped talking to him, silently handed him water and a medication. He greedily lapped up the water and called to his office to say that he’s feeling sick and probably can’t go for a work today. He was slurring and the real reason of his sudden illness was rather hard to hide. His Lady-boss was reprimanding him for a long time, with her awfully piercing voice, screwing up his poor head. He was holding the receiver out of his ear and staring on it, squealing with the most annoying voice in the entire Universe, and then hung it down.
Next week he had to visit a Police. He swore with all his heart that Dave was with them at the rehearsals, and on the whole he managed to leave a good impression to the police officer. He was worrying that he hadn’t seen Dave for a while but hoped that everything will be fine in the end.
And Dave appeared soon, so they continued their rehearsals.
- Those cunts were trying to hang a car stealing on me, - he explained, - but changed their mind somehow.
- We are sure that it wasn’t you, - said Andy.
Martin remained silent.


They were spending all nights now with the same company on the construction site. Dave didn’t forget to mention that Martin was the leader of the band he singing in and they will play at local club next Sunday. It helped to attract female attention to Martin very well. Martin didn’t know what to do with it not for long. Soon Dave realized that he didn’t need his help no more.
- Where’s Mary-baby?
Mark was smoking his joint staring at the camp-fire and pointed with his finger somewhere past his back.
Dave turned around and saw with wonder that Martin was wooing Baby pretty hard. He seemed to know how to have fun. He hugged the girl from behind, using the help of the darkness that hid them from all those who was sitting at the circle of light from the camp-fire, his hand slipped into her panties. She wasn’t objecting at all, she even moaned playfully and was rubbing her round backside against his body.
- Fuck me, - Dave said.
Mark looked at the couple above his shoulder and snickered, inhaling the smoke with familiar herbal smell. He handed a joint to his friend.
- Take a blow.
Dave took. Looked at Mary and Martin kissing behind his back and was staring at them until they disappeared somewhere in the dark. He didn’t find a chick to himself today, so this evening came to an end with his melancholically wanking off in his own bed. He can’t recall, it was his hash-fog hallucination or he really saw it, when was hanging around the place later. But the picture of Martin, screwing his ex on the cable-roll, refused to leave his mind tonight. He bent her down onto this fucking cable-roll and thrust his dick into her, barely moved away her panties, although she was rather drunk and it was okay for her. Dave couldn’t see Martin’s dick clearly, but he saw that her pussy seemed rather stretched on him. Dave was panting now, feeling the climax pushing up hot spasms up his tummy. He wiped dry his navel from his sperm with the special cloth and stretched himself on the bed, feeling that he fulfilled his duty for to day, feeling an afterglow of his orgasm, warming up his body still.
He should shag her like an old friend or something, right there where Martin fucked her today. Dave hissed desperately, because this thought suddenly awakened his cock with a familiar yearning. A hash was too strong today he thought.
But usually their time-table was just like that.
Martin and Andy were working until four o’clock, and Vince and Dave were heading to London by the train, visiting independent record labels. At five o’clock they’ve met in their garage and starting rehearsals, despise Andy’s traditional desire to take his cup of five o’clock tea.
- Lads, I have an idea! – Said Dave right from the doors to Andy chewing his sandwich and to Martin sticking the name of some Elf Princess to his synthesizer, - Yesterday I found my sister’s magazine. Let’s name our band Depeche Mode, no, just like with French accent Depeche-e Mode, - Vince frowned and Andy almost choked with his sandwich.
- What? – He asked taking a big sip of his tea with milk.
- Depeche-e Mode? – Vince said, - why? I like it.
- What does it means your “Depeche Mode”? – Carefully asked Andy, - something pornographic?
- I told ya, it was my sister’s magazine! – repeated Dave with some offence in his voice.
- Fast Fashion? – asked Martin.
- You don’t like it?
- No…I don’t know…probably… - Martin shook his shoulder, - you decide.
And they decided.

Next week, Baby Mary was celebrating her birthday. They all gathered at her backyard. Dave was drunk with girl’s punch; he mixed it with some vodka, for more complicated effect. Martin and Mark and Andy were playing poker.
- Pass.
- Pass.
- Pass.
- Heh, - said Andy and showed his cards triumphantly. He won. Martin whined disappointedly.
- That’s ok, chuck, - Dave tapped Martin’s shoulder, - you’ll be lucky in love then. Ya know it’s a good sigh.
- A-ye, - the chuck said.
- How’s everything? – Dave asked pushing away Mark from the bench, settling himself near Martin, - Did your princess Anna gave you her you know what?
- Not yet, - Martin said.
- Yet? – Dave giggled and rubbed his hands.
Martin laughed and shook his head.
Who’d say why the hell Vivienne started this silly game of Truth or Dare that day. On the other hand, have you ever seen the debauchery that was ended up without it? Andy was mocking Marilyn Monroe, singing “Happy Birthday mister President”, that was Dave’s wish and Martin almost fell down from the bench from laughing. Mark told them a story how he saw his brother fucking his girlfriend, in such vivid details – he made one half of the guests snickering buoyantly and the other half was squalling because of that.
Now it was Vivienne’s turn. She was giggling and sipping her drink while telling everybody about her first man, American businessman. Dave was giggling evilly too and announced Martin right into his ear that she’s fucking lying and it was Mark who really broke her flower in local forest last summer. Mary’s elder brother Timothy, big muscular guy with a kind face was jumping back and fro the backyard, crowing like a village cock, and everybody was laughing hysterically again.
And then there was a Dave’s turn.
- Truth or dare? – Coquettishly asked Vivienne’s friend, she was making eyes at Dave all evening.
Dave hemmed.
- Dare, - he said.
He probably was too drunk, but he shouldn’t listen for Vivienne’s friend’s wish. He just knew it right from the start. Okay that was a standard amusement for this game, actually why this game was made for, to kiss someone, you don’t care who and the main thing to see this fucking disaster by yourself. Dare to French kiss Martin? Yes, I fucking dare. It seemed that Martin tried to hide from Dave under the table, yelling.
- Me? Why me?
But Andy caught him and dragged back, holding him tightly with his elbow under his chin.
- Thank you, Andy, - Dave said.
- Thank you very fucking much, Andy - Martin moaned.
Guys around them were laughing aloud. Dave stood up and then straddled the bench, bending over the Marin half-laying on Andy’s chest.
- COWARD! – yelled Mark.
- SHUT UT! Dave doesn’t fear anything! – Dave said.
Dave inhaled and pushed Martin’s bended knee off to the side of the bench, to get closer to him. Uhm, well, but Martin didn’t resisted too much. He was just gazing at him, and it was weird, but Dave couldn’t understand what was he thinking, and probably this made Dave do what he did. He wanted to hide from that stare. And his shelter was the kiss.
Soft and fast, almost unnoticeable, like a light ticking over their lips, he touched Martin’s lips with his own; surprised with the softness he felt and backed away.
- Sucks! – Guys and girls around were evidently booing them.
- Fuck – said Martin and Dave at the same time.
Mark jumped off his chair, giggling.
- Dave, you milksop, want me to show you what the French-kiss is?
Mark showed some strange composition with his tongue in the air, making girls to throw a cake paper box at him and call him obscene.
- Oh, your lips, huh? – Dave said, jeeringly, turning his back to the friends and facing Martin, - so soft, as girl’s.
He moved closer to Martin’s opened lips again and this time Martin amazed him, because he helped him. Martin touched Dave’s mouth with his own, slowly moving his tongue over Dave’s plump lower lip. Dave had to confess that his knees were wobbling and he grabbed Matins thighs with his both hands just not to fall down. His trick made Martin open his mouth more against his will, inhaling, although Dave meant nothing special….he did clutched Martin’s thighs too high to remain unnoticed. Critically high. Don’t forget the fact that Martin was lying before him, spreading his thighs to the both sides of the fucking bench and Dave’s mouth was on his mouth, Martin realized that everything’s just fucked up from now on. Dave hemmed contented; probably he sensed Martin’s reaction. Then he bit his lip, tasting their kiss, savoring the feeling and enjoying Martin’s stare stuck to his lips. Virtually his opponent was absolutely lost and he just had to use his advantage now.
They all, those who were off the board of their being now, were yelling something, inspiring them; even Mark called him fucking bugger obviously to cheer him up. From the side of the Mary’s guests everything was so innocent and quick. Dave felt the time change into Eternity when he felt Martin’s lips again. He started licking them, upper and lower, with light and tender motions. He felt Martin surrender to his kiss, warming up with every soft caress of Dave’s lips, and abruptly Dave did what society around waited him to do. He turned his head a little, pushed Martins jaws open with his teeth, driving his tongue into his mouth making him to throw back his head, giving himself to Dave completely. He almost suffocated Martin with his hard attack and his friend clutched his hair in vain attempt to tear Dave off of him. Dave wasn’t in a mood to give up so easily and he tortured him more extremely enjoying the feeling of Martin’s compliance.
Finally when Martin’s grip on his nape became unbearable he let their mouths to be departed with the loud smooching sound, licking his lips and hearing applause. He set down onto the bench, Martin accidentally shoved him with his knee, trying to sit back to face the table. Andy was snickering like a horse, Mary returned with the new bottles. Dave smirked and shoved Martin under his ribs. Martin didn’t look at him.
- Hey, whassup? – Dave said.
Martin didn’t smile. When he grabbed his glass his hands were a little bit shaky.
- Nothing.
- Hey, listen, I didn’t mean to let you down, chuck, hey, cheer up, huh? We are just joking…
Martin opened his mouth to say something but Mary came closer to him and hugged his neck.
- Begone, Dave, - she said, - don’t be cruel with my lamb.
Dave was staring intently on her, when she was rubbing her cheek over Martin’s fair curls, whispering soothing words to Martin. Corners of Dave’s mouth tugged up in smile and he sang loudly:
Everybody was laughing now, even Martin.

First shows in five London suburbs Depeche Mode called their first tour. They were very nervous and Dave was just thousand times more nervous then they all.
They were sitting near the river with Martin they drunk a bottle of wine. The night was warm already and they were sitting on the grass. Martin leaned against an oak with his back and thoughtfully staring at the black and slow water flow. Dave was lying on the ground, he felt strange, like he was half asleep and half awake. On the one hand he was feeling hell nervous before tomorrow’s show; on the other hand he felt that he just has no strengths no more to feel something.
- So, you’ve said that they were throwing cans at you in one show?
- Mmm….yeah, - Martin said with a strange voice, - until then Vince was sure that he can be a front-man. It broke his confidence completely.
- HUH! CHICKEN! – Dave giggled, - Afraid of cans! I bet I will not…
- You will, - Martin said, - A crowd is scary when it hates you.
- Throw something at me and I swear I will not fear!
Martin laughed and threw a shiver at Dave.
- Oh, I am so scared! – Dave snickered, - More! More! More!
Martin did it again.
- I fucking love it, - Dave put a shiver off the ground and threw it back at Martin, didn’t has any doubts that it will back soon. They funny fight ended up with the loud laughter. Dave rubbed the tears off his cheeks trying to sit straight and hitting the ground with his legs; he thought he just couldn’t breathe from laughing that hard.
- Listen, Mart, I have an idea! I will be running and jumping on the stage very fast. You know why Mick Jagger is jumping on the stage?
- Why? – Martin asked and bent his knees. Dave crawled to sit near him, shoulder to shoulder, leaning his back to the tree too.
- It is much harder to hit a moving target!
They were snickering for a long time. Oak trunk was wide but Dave had to lean very close to Martin with all his body, though he wasn’t aware of that fact at all.
- You should start to run around your synth too, Mart. And why not?
- I will miss a key, - said Martin thoughtfully, - I am not always pushing the right keys even standing still.
They were laughing again.
- You are so warm, - suddenly Dave said.
His side was right at his side from ankle to shoulder and Martin forgot all words he ever knew. He closed his eyes and hit his head against the oak. He didn’t expect that this touch would hit him so hard; he was just watching his weird body reaction shockingly. His heart was missing a beat and his temperature was rising, and it was obvious for him exactly why.
- Hey, whassup, Mart? – Dave pushed him with his knee, - Huh? – And once again.
- It doesn’t matter, - Martin finally managed to talk, - But you don’t seems to be too cold too, at the moment.
Dave giggled and hugged Martin’s shoulders.
- Listen here, Mart, - he said with a deep importance in his voice, - what do you think, can we get along well?
- What do you mean? – asked Martin somehow a little bit aware of Dave’s question.
- Uhm…this, - Dave said, managing to waving his both hands to help to express his thought, and the fact that one of his hands were pressed in oak bark by Martin’s back, - I mean Depeche Mode.
Martin shook his head.
- Dunno.
- And they won’t kick our asses tomorrow?
- I am not sure, - Martin answered honestly; - Chelsea fans hate Vince’s song “What’s your name?” I just hope they won’t come.
Dave was laughing a little bit nervously this time.

All the boys we got to get together
All the boys together we can stand
We can go
Never know
All the things we need to show
Hey you're such a pretty boy (you're so pretty) *What’s your name by Vince Clarke.

He sang jeering.
- That’s the fucking shit, Martin, if you don’t know how does fucking shit looks like, I’ll tell you, just like that.
- Okay then. Let’s sing “My girl is a skinhead” tomorrow instead, - Martin propped his chin with his elbow.
- In the gay-club? – asked Dave releasing Martin from his constant touch and moving away to looked at him, so it helped Martin to return to his senses a little, - Very funny. Huh-Huh.
Dave scratched his arm thoughtfully.
- Ya know I finally get it. Why all musicians are starting their carrier in gay-clubs, - he said.
- And why? – Martin asked.
- Because it is easier to fight gays then Chelsea fans.
Martin remained silent and looked somewhere aside.
- What’s wrong with ya?
- Nothing, - Martin answered, - just imagined Ziggy Stardust singing for Chelsea fans.

I'm an alligator,
I'm a mama-papa coming for you
I'm the space invader,
I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you **

- Huh, - Dave snickered buoyantly, - You are doing it just fine, better then Bowie himself.
They started to sing along together, mocking hysterical vocal of the pop-star parody Bowie’s Ziggy.

Keep your electric eyes on me, babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah!** Moonage Daydream by David Bowie

- Look up to the sky, here’s the moon, - Dave giggled, - Let’s freak out! Far out!
- Good old in-out, - gloomily quoted Martin with his natural voice.
Dave was howling from the laughter.
- Yeapp you are right, we could loose our Ziggy young then. Listen. Mart, is Vince a bugger?
- Uhm, - Martin began.
- I hate buggers, - Dave said, - huh? Mart?
Martin bit his lower lip.
- Well…I…I…how to say, glam-rock was built in bisexuality.
- Bugger-r-rs, - Dave said, - Buggers all around us. And Bowie is a bugger too.
- Bowie is not a bugger.
- He is, - Dave said, - He said that.
- He said that he is a bisexual, - Martin said, - There is a difference between bisexual and homosexual.
- Your bisexuals are fairytales. Bisexuals are just buggers that didn’t find themselves yet.
- No-o-o, - Martin sounded offended somehow.
- Yes, - Dave jeered.
- No, - Martin said.
- How do you know? – Dave asked quickly.
Martin’s ears became red.
- I…I… don’t know, - he said, - I was just… thinking.
Dave snickered evilly.
- Okay then, fuck it, if you want them to be bisexuals, let them be. I hope your bisexual friends wouldn’t screw us up tomorrow in unnatural way. Oh, - Dave exhaled, - and I’m afraid still.
- Mmm,…yeah… - Martin suddenly turned to face Dave, got up to his knees, he was searching something in his pockets, then he showed something to Dave in his opened palm, - Just don’t laugh at me, - he said.
- Mart, how could you… - Dave said offended, when he looked more carefully he noticed a coin in Martin’s palm.
- Take it, please, - he said.
Dave took the coin.
- It’s old. I found it, a long time ago in Germany. It’s a happy coin. It’s….kind of….sort of…an amulet. Really, don’t laugh, it helped me several times, I…I want it to be yours. If it….if it…wouldn’t help…anyway it would be easier like that. Not that. Not that. Terrible.
- Mart, - Dave said and gripped the coin in his palm, feeling touched to the depth of his heart, - Mart.
He hugged his shoulders.


There was furniture in the living room and curtains and like Martin was said the room seemed livable. There was a plasma board on the wall, Dave wanted to turn the TV on but couldn’t find a remote control he didn’t want to get up off the couch.
- MA-A-ART! – He shouted sitting on the leather couch with his feet, - Got something to eat?
Mart stood at the door with puzzled expression on his face. He held some bag in his hands.
- To eat? – He asked, - Mmm…Uhm, well…I think…no.
- Telephone directory?
- I am not sure, - Martin said, - probably no.
- Okay, do you know a good restaurant with delivery?
- Are there bad restaurants without delivery? – Martin asked with obvious interest.
- Jeez, - Dave said, - I felt with my butt that I should move to your place, you are dysfunctional at the point of normal living. Hey, - Dave stood up, - what did you supposed to do here? To call your ex-wife every second like Susanne, how to order a dinner?
He stopped his speech abruptly because Martin’s face turned black almost literally.
- Fuck, I am sorry; - Dave rushed to the door, not thinking only trying to pull the bag off Martin’s hands, - silly woman talks without thinking. - He said continuing his fight for the bag. Martin didn’t yield. They almost fighting in the hall near the stairways, Dave was resisting him with all his might but Martin won and pressed him to the wall soon. His eyes were treating with their sparkling. But Dave only stared at him with deep affection.
- Don’t look at me like that, I am loosing the rest of my mind, - he said.
Corners of Martin’s mouth trembled uncontrollably, he stepped back from Dave, shook his head and his face in his hands.
- What’s happened? – Dave carefully touched his shoulder.
- Nothing, - Martin tried to shook Dave’s hand off him.
- I hate it when you talk like that, Mart. Ma-a-art.
- What, Dave? What? Dave? – he frowned, his voice broke down into a scream - WHAT?
Dave looked at one side then at another then at pressed his finger to his lips.
- Hush, - he said, and grabbed Martin’s back across with his one hand, bringing his head closer to him with his other hand, persistently and tenderly. Martin didn’t hug him in answer and Dave felt a hint of bitterness inside because of that. But on the other hand he stood there, so close like he was doomed to do it, his head was laying on his shoulder, ok, anyway it was easier to bare like that. Dave bent a little and chastely kissed the crown of his head.

Chapter 13

Dave vigorously rushed into the restrooms, didn’t care to look around he stopped near the urinal and yelled right into Martin’s ear:
- Huh? – Martin was thoughtfully standing near, - what’s happened?
- Daniel Miller is here! – Dave screamed, contriving to speaking and jostling and jumping up from impatience and doing what people actually doing while standing before a urinal. - He’s here in the club,…Vince told that…I am fucking dead. That dude from Mute, who rejected us with Vince. Fuck how can I fucking perform before him, huh? I will shit into my pants. We ARE FUCKING DONE!
Martin put his tool into his pants and nodded pensively. Dave looked to Martin’s side and almost dropped his dick from his hands.
- Fuck me, - he said, - fuck my fucking fuck…
He silently tried to rush inside the toilette cabin but it was closed, then he probably decided to climb over the door, but Martin grabbed him by the belt of his trousers and was holding him tightly, while dragging way out off the toilette.
- Dave, don’t be such a cunt, DAVE…FUCK…DAVE!!!
Dave didn’t give up, but Martin appeared more persistent this time and finally he managed to tear Dave from the door.
- Sorry, - he said to Miller who was actually standing in the middle of the restrooms. Daniel was looking at them with weird expression on his clear shaven face, his eyes were screwing, he bent his head and crossed his hands on his chest, - We are sorry, - Martin repeated once again, pushing Dave off, though Dave lost all his abilities to resist.
That was the first time when Fletch hugged him. When he saw Dave ash pale face he silently thrust him a glass full of cheap whiskey, made him drink it right to the bottom with one gulp, then grabbed his shoulders and pulled Dave to himself. Dave butted him, smelling the soap powder from Andy’s t-shirt, and tried to break free from him as he felt better. Indeed he felt better, like this concrete mixer inside him, rolling his guts into the knot and vibrating his jaws finally stopped working.
- Oh, my, - he exhaled.
- It’s time, old boy, - Fletch said, his face was still as a forest lake, - it’s time.
Martin as pale as Dave was, moving forward in near unconsciousness condition. He stooped hearing in a second and his knees were wobbling. Vince was rubbing his sweaty palms against his trousers and his face held intensive expression, and if Martin didn’t feel his hot breath with his back he’d stop right here and fell into some kind of comatose, or better, died and it will be over.

They were raining from the sky
Exploding in my heart
Is this a love in disguise
Or just a form of modern art
From the skies you could almost hear them cry
Tora! Tora! Tora! * Tora! Tora !Tora! by Martin L Gore

Dave’s voice almost broke making the song sounded like a bleeding wound. He liked Martin’s songs. They were way less sleek and smooth and professional then pop-songs made by Vince. Martin didn’t show them too often. They were weird, lyrics were weird, music was weird and images too. Several days Dave was thinking about the connection between Love and Death of Pearl Harbor, the heart wrenching story about the tragedy of actually foolish defeat, but didn’t find an answer. He liked the association of Love with bombers over American military base in the air and Japanese Samurais’ signal to burn it with the fire, Tiger! Tiger! Tiger!
Also he liked Martin’s emotionality and paradoxical honesty of his songs. The paradox was that he never opened something exact but somehow managing to show feelings that wouldn’t be too accepted to show in the name of Love. They were not very nice, those feelings, not the feelings that you can be proud of, but it was the truth and the truth was making his songs almost unhealthy real. Oh, and the temperature of the songs was right as he like it, they heightened his blood pressure and twisted his balls while he was singing them. He couldn’t get it completely how it could be. To love accepting the killing fire and understanding it completely, he just couldn’t get…this romance wasn’t his cup of tea. He couldn’t get it, he just felt it. He was standing there and he was sensing it. Sensing the heart exploding from the pain and desire, wanting to fall down on his knees, howling his accusations to Heavens, cursing them for this crying injustice to send this kind of Love to him.
He understood where he was right at the moment when he finished his song and only then noticed people near the stage. They reservedly applauded. He wiped the sweat from his fore head and came closer to Martin to tap his shoulder, he didn’t have an idea why he decided to do that, he just wanted to show him his gratitude and sympathy. Martin understood it and smiled lightly.
After thirteen years after that Dave found a way to express his feelings to Martin more comprehensive, after he sang “I feel you” first time.
- Mart, you know, - he said, - I never ever had sex in such perverted way like I am having with you. Not only that you are fucking my brittle brain, but I am fucking getting a multiplied orgasm from that.
And that time Martin said nothing, just smiled lightly too.
Meanwhile Vince’s hit was playing. And Vince was writing hits no doubts. Dave was ready to cry from happiness when the audience started to sing along with him – I just can’t get enough! – They were singing and dancing and they knew all the words. They were having fun!!!
Yes, this warming up show before Miller’s Fad Gadget went much better then it could. The audience stopped to flip a bird to them and yell “Go fuck yourself” on their third song and they were singing along with them in their last song. When they went off stage Martin told Dave that they never had such incredible success.
- You are good in performing, - quickly he said, - and as a front-man too, Dave.
Dave jumped buoyantly from Martin’s praise and made some Tarzan Yell hitting his breast with his fists.
- Are you Depeche Mode? - asked Miller suddenly appearing near.
- Depeche-e Mode, - automatically corrected him Dave.
Miller pierced Dave with his tenacious gaze and shook Martin’s hand. Martin clutched Miller’s hand embarrassedly in some girlish manner, which embarrassed him even more and he squeezed Miller’s hand with his both hands.
- My name is Daniel Miller. - Daniel Miller said him, - I am interested. Let’s give it a try.
Daniel needed all his strengths not to laugh out loud from blonde’s shocked look, the lad keep squeezing his hand with his both small paws, and from Dave who was leaning trustfully against blonde’s side like a newborn puppy to his one minute elder brother, staring at him with his burning eyes showing the Universe of Love and Devotion in their depths.
Daniel thought he understood what perplexed him when he first saw them. This abnormal energy they both were radiating. Tape that Vince and Dave have brought him couldn’t show this energy, Daniel thought that he can stake on this energy it’s just needs to put it somehow into the records.
They were recording their first album playing together, not recording each part differently, but somehow imitating stage atmosphere, because Daniel decided that this way their energy would be more palpable. And he wasn’t mistaken, he was right, and that time he decided that he should take them more seriously then he thought from the beginning of their interactions. Album was selling well and they were playing live rather often, so Dave decided that those horses soon to be leaders.


- I think I’ve found a garage key. - Martin said stepping back from David. His face became still as if nothing had happened.
Well, right, actually nothing had happened.
- I will move my car into then. - Rather coldly Dave answered and ran downstairs. The lack of any reaction from Martin started to irritate him. I’m fucking jumping around him all the day but bastard is looking at me like he has no idea what’s going on. And he will look at me like nothing had EVER happened between us two, perfectly knowing that it making me crazy, his silence and his indifference. He knows it, he knows it, he knows. And I know. I know that he didn’t forget anything and that he didn’t forgive. I believe he remember my each word. And what am I gonna do with this bloody knowledge?
Dave opened a garage and drove a car inside, pushed a button while staring at the slowly closing garage gates, suddenly he found a piece of newspaper with some advertising. He was reading it while moving upstairs.
- Mart, I’ve found a pizzeria.
- Terrifying, - Martin said.
- You prefer to die from the hunger then eat this cholesterol shit? – Dave asked.
- I’d prefer to avoid both, - Martin said, - My liver will kill me anyway.
- Why are you drinking so much, you fiend, huh? Your liver will kill you. If I were your liver I’d kill you a long-long time ago. I think your liver is like elephant’s already.
Martin giggled evilly.
- Look, who’s talking now…
Dave decided better to avoid this topic in the future.
- They have beer, - Dave said and Martin moved closer to him, looking at the piece of the newspaper above Dave’s shoulder.
- You are not drinking, - Martin said, - sort of.
- Don’t be a fanatic, - Dave seemed offended.
- The phone number tore off, - Martin said.
- Fucking shit! - Dave exclaimed.
- Fucking shit, - Martin nodded.
- Well, uhm, but almost all numbers are there, only the last one left. I contrived something…Mart, where’s the phone?
- In the bedroom, what did you decide to do?
- I will call by guess-work.
- You are nuts.
- Oh, c’mon, the last cipher is eight. I swear I have to guess this one only.
- Six.
Dave stretched himself across Martin’s bed with the phone in his hands.
- Huh?
- The number is six.
- You’ve told me you have bad eyesight, - Dave said.
- Fucking women intuition, - Martin giggled.
Dave giggled too and thoughtfully tried the first combination of numbers but nobody picked up. And the second time too. Third time and he was discussing with some old lady her parrot for rather long time, and he advised his fifth interlocutor to put the receiver into his ass and that he will call him again soon to make it vibrate. Martin was mesmerized by the free flow of Dave’s cursing words he even laid down beside him. A boor on the other side of the connection line continued his hysterical cursing but Dave started to feel a strange yearning inside him from Martin’s closeness, he didn’t touch him very often even occasionally so it was pleasurable in all meanings. Dave lost his mood to fight with the boor and hung up. He called to this fucking restaurant soon, probably too soon, because as far as he started to estimate how safe it will be to hug Martin now and kissed him in all available places, Martin moved away and stood up. Dave stretched out his hand automatically to catch him like his white impudent cat, trying to escape, and laughed by this reflex.
Their order was delivered very fast and they decided not to try to be original and settled down into the living-room floor. Dave found an Elvis CD and turned on the music center. The song that played first made Martin choke with his beer and Dave’s face became red too, so he decided to choose the second song.


Probably they even wanted to make their Best Hits Tour the last but the Doom decided that it shouldn’t. It seemed that to remember everything from the previous evening not that bad and Dave started to like it. So they rehearsed the Exciter tour in Santa-Barbara and moved forward.
Martin visited Dave’s dress-room before the show.
- Have you seen my mediators?
- Have I ever fucked with them? – Dave asked.
- Who knows, - Martin said, carefully examining the table.
Dave giggled.
- Have no idea, help yourself.
Martin took a mineral water from the table and gulped. He found what he was looking for under the bottle and shoved them into his pocket. Meanwhile Dave turned to face a big mirror, stood up on his toes and waving his arm in circle motions:
- Me-di-a-tor – Mas-tur-ba-tor – he sang some familiar melody, and exclaimed – ELVIS LEFT THE BUILDING!
He showed some more motions and sang, mocking Elvis Presley.

I don’t wanna be a tiger
‘cos tigers play too rough
I don’t wanna be a lion
‘cos lions ain’t the kind
You love enough **

- Am I cool Elvis? – He asked Martin.
- You are, - Martin nodded and returned the bottle onto the table.
Dave moved closer.

Just wanna be your teddy bear **

Dave moved too close to Martin, playfully, he continued singing jeeringly with erotic aspirations.

Put a chain around my neck
And lead me anywhere
Oh let me be
Your teddy bear ** Elvis Presley Let me be your Teddy Bear

He grabbed Martin’s belt from the front and behind, playing with him as if he was a strip-pole for him, continuing his persistent thighs motions, rubbing himself against him. Ouch, just like he expected Martin turned on from his show in a second. Dave didn’t had a time to catch some air when he finished the last verse when Martin grabbed his ass with his both paws and pressed him into the dress-room wall hard. Dave was turned on too, mostly from Martin’s possessiveness but from his own show also, so he was returning Martin’s kisses with incredible zeal. Drinking the taste of their kiss, savoring the feelings of hot lips and the hardness of those things that were put together now under belts of their pants. They were rubbing against each other throw the fabric multiplying their desire to entwine their mouths in hot kiss and never severe.
Martin pulled down his pants, getting down no his knees before him. Dave’s nape hit the wall; he started to feel dizzy sensing the cool air with his dick becoming more sensitive with every second now. Martin touched him with his tongue from the back of the head as if taking his dick from downside with his half opened mouth. He caressed up and down his length and Dave was fighting his desire to fuck Martin’s mouth hard and he explained his desire to Martin in rather popular way. So you can forget the possibility of misunderstanding there, but Martin didn’t’ react on Dave’s plea and continued to tease him with soft and tender motions of his lips and tongue.
- Ma-a-a-a-art, - he whined and breathed in feverishly, - Mart, you don’t know how to suck, huh?
He didn’t like the way Martin looked at him right after these words, maliciously and weird, crooking his eyebrow and the feeling that everything is fucked up from now on filled Dave with unbelievable yearning.
Martin stood up and stepped back a little, abruptly turned Dave around with one movement of his strong hands, bending him forward. His one hand hugged his belly, lower belly or better to say pelvis under his hardened cock, pushing him forward to bent more and Dave knew that he’d rather sale his soul if anyone needs it still then he’d break this touch. The touch shocked his nerves so hard; he missed the main point of what’s going on. He was lying with the upper part of his body onto the table, voluptuously curving his back more but something made him whisper:
- Don’t do it, Mart…
He raised his face and looked to the mirror wishing to meet Martin’s gaze and desperately needing to show that he isn’t joking at all but asking for his mercy indeed.
- Martin, fucking don’t. Stop it, you ba-s-s-stard, - he moaned hitting his forehead against the table; it was useless to watch Martin now. The most fascist’s smirk on this bastard’s face of his in the answer for all his pleas killed all hopes Dave’s ever had. In the depths of his mined he hoped that at the matter of the show everything will end up with Martin sucking him off. Martin probably understood it and with his genuine witty inquisitor’s sadism he took Dave’s hand and put them into his buttocks, per se making Dave to offer himself to him like in Dave’s own will. Dave face became red he still hiding it, but suddenly recalled that the door of his dressing room is left unclosed, and he said that to Martin. Martin tactfully replied that he shouldn’t care about anything in this world except his cock in his fucking ass, Dave was ready to answer but soon he stopped worrying about the other things.
- SHIT! Someday my eyes will fell out and will hang on their nerves, - he shouted when Martin impaled him. The pain almost tore him into pieces. Earlier he thought that it was because of the lack of Martin’s experience but today he grew sure that Martin just enjoying that. He’s enjoying making him feel pain, mainly from his high emotional reaction he provoked. Dave suspected that if he’d found a way how to teach himself not to cry out and twitch in their first seconds, Martin would lost his interest in that game a long time ago.
He started to breathe calmly, movements became softer and smoother and tender more, yeah tender as if can be hard to believe, they were relaxing him gradually, making him drown into warm soft cloud of the real pleasure. He couldn’t understand which perverted fantasy held his mind but he was extremely turned on by the fact that Martin was taking him. Sometimes Martin did that very carefully and tenderly, kissing him endlessly and tirelessly caressing him in all possible ways, he was almost coming and loosing his senses only by Martin playing with his body, but sometimes he was using him, taking him hard, didn’t care about his pleasure at all. And it was turning on Dave very hard, he moaned louder and louder more, he was ready to cry out, he didn’t care of anybody would hear, but Martin closed his mouth with his palm. He rested his other hand against Dave’s back.
Dave raised his head again to see his own wet face with Martin’s hand on his lips in the mirror and he saw Martin threw back his head he opened his mouth fighting for breathe, oh fuck he was using him to please himself very well. Dave whined trying to bite Martin’s finger, because the sight of Martin fucking his ass in pure ecstasy was a little bit too much to bear.
Martin managed him to suck on two of his fingers, expanding the speed of his movements inside Dave to unbelievable rate. Dave was doing his job too, the time for him to grab his dick with his hand was enough to feel hot waves of climax twisting his body to the point of pain and he just remembered Martin’s eyes watching him in the mirror later.
Martin went out first. And he went onto the stage first, playing intro. Dave showed later, using this time to make him right, but he still felt pleasurable tickling with his skin and emotions was tearing him open rushing outside, he grabbed the microphone and starting singing:

We're the horniest boys
With the corniest ploys
Who take the easiest girls
To our sleaziest worlds ***

He hissed abruptly, moving his hips wrong way, and this reminded him of this melancholic animal, playing his guitar, who cynically fucked him up his ass. And he felt that the thought of the sweet revenge appeared inside his mind. Martin smirked as he felt his stare. Dave shook his head and continued the song.

With our lecherous plans
In our treacherous hands
You'd be wasting your time
Saying no, it's a crime

All that we live for you'll regret
All you remember we'll forget ***

Oh my, how had he shouted at Martin yesterday! Even he, Dave Gahan, was done by his maniacal fucking around completely he felt sick. And he was mad at this bold matchmaker, his nanny and bodyguard, making the casting of female meat for Martin. Amazing fact, just shockingly striking, the whole time he knew Martin he was impressed how he managed to make persons same sex with his desperately wanting to please him. His not making them, he managing them to feel this desire was born somewhere deep inside of them and made them extremely happy if he received their care.
He complained to Jennifer about it all, but Jennifer told him that it is just one of lady’s secret he better not to know. He chocked with his coffee and coughed for a long time, his wife has rather weird sense of humor. Probably that was what they had with Martin in common. But this bodyguard tried to please Martin like a nanny her spoiled child, bringing him this and that and guarding him from the wrong people and the real world outside. Dave asked Martin, if he’d ordered to his bodyguard to suck him off would he object at all? Martin answered him with his Heh-heh-heh and seemed to have fun from this idea. The question of would he suck off Martin if he ordered didn’t even rose in Dave’s mind. And Dave said to Martin that even Fletch moved away from him, although he’s seemed to be a Saint and Martin should look what is around him more carefully.

With our decadent minds
And our innocent lines
You'll be playing our games
With your bodies in flames ***

Martin answered that Dave just envying him because Jennifer will never permit him to behave like that. Dave became mad and fucked hard one chick, looking like Martin somewhat about 85-th Era in very perverted way, and that deep moral satisfaction he felt, surprised himself. But he wanted Martin to see this act of love and he did, though this cunt loved it. I mean Martin loved it.

When delirious fun
Has seriously begun
You’ll be down on your knees
You’ll be begging us please***

Dave realized only now in this tour that Susanne knew everything just perfectly. Before he didn’t have an idea but realized now. He visited Martin very often, once and twice and more and refused to let him go. He couldn’t comprehend what was that unusual seizure of unbelievable passion that took them both. Although they didn’t seem happy. She shouted at Martin, Dave heard it when he was near Martin’s doors at the hotel. Martin was silent. It seemed worse and worse with every day. He thought that Martin’s whores do her completely but everything wasn’t that simple, he found out that Susanne was pregnant again. She didn’t afraid to fly and came again. They had a little fight with Dave once when they were dining and he wasn’t restrained even by Jennifer presence. He announced Susanne that she found a fucking shitty way to attract Martin’s attention.
- You better watch your own wife, - she hissed and there was a threat.

All we’re demanding you’ll supply
All we’re accused of we’ll denied *** The Dead of Night by Martin Lee Gore.


So Speak and Spell had its success for independent label. In spite of terrifying red cover with a swan wrapped in plastic. Well but in the person of this swan Martin and Dave had a joke which they were joking everyday, trying to exceed each other in their humorous comments about what does it means. And they were snickering loudly. Others didn’t smiled most of the time but they were almost dying laughing. Martin’s and Dave’s sense of humor wasn’t quite normal as Vince thought they hardly comprehended what was going on around them. They were watching their first videos like school pictures:
- Ohhh,…I am so ugly, - Dave droned.
- I am ugly, - Martin said, - with big perky ears.
- Huh, - Dave said, - Huh-huh-huh.
- Why didn’t I die when I was a child? – Sadly announced Martin.
- Oh, fuck,…Vince, - Dave snickered pointing to the TV with his finger, - Look, Vince looks like fucking shit incarnate…listen alive person couldn’t look like this. Fletch! FLETCH!!! You know, you reminding me of…
Fletch put his hand on Dave’s shoulder.
- I don’t want to know.
- No, Fletch…
- I am not even curious.
Martin looked at Fletch and Dave with interest in his eyes.
- But Fletch, you are really looks like…
- Dave, keep you mouth shut, huh? – Fletch was joking but something in his voice was threatening. He leaved his hand in Dave’s shoulder.
- Blah-blah-blah, - Dave mocked Fletch.
Martin shoved him with his elbow.
- Like what?
Dave looked at Fletch wary, pressed his mouth into Martin’s ear and whispered something. They both were laughing loudly.
- You morons, huh? – Fletch said.
Obviously Vince wasn’t too happy about the amount of attention that Miller gave to Martin Gore. At the point that actually him, Vince was the leader of this band. Fletch saw it perfectly and tried to support him as he could. Dave didn’t give a shit because virtually he didn’t pay any attention on anything around if its name wasn’t Martin Gore, making Vince felt like two’s a company, three’s a crowd. Even with Fletch around. Because Fletch was probably having fun making up with this weird pair, but not with him.
Once Miller invited them to say that Vince Clarke decided to leave the band. As they came into Daniel’s office he announced that. Dave reached with his hand for the chocolate cookies lying in a basket at Miller’s table.
- Wicked, - Martin said, - he didn’t tell us anything.
Daniel looked at Martin intently but Martin didn’t move a muscle.
- Why did he left? – asked chewing Dave.
- He said that he can’t bear the pressure that pushing groups like that forward and he’s wishing to make things that he wanting to and don’t mix the creative process with business.
- Oh, yeah? – Unexpectedly spitefully Martin asked and something mean sparkled inside the green of his eyes if only for a second. Daniel pierced him with his gaze and rubbed his chin.
- Asshole, - Dave said, shoved the entire cookie into his mouth and grabbed another. Fletch hit his hand and Dave whined pitifully and Daniel handed him an entire basket. Dave grabbed his prey and set at the long distance from Fletch and Martin, showing his tongue to everyone.
They were drinking beer later at night in some bar.
- Hey, what the fuck did I told him, huh? – Dave asked Martin and Fletch both, - kinda his songs are sloppy and poppy and buggery too. What’s wrong with that?
- Nothing wrong, - Martin nodded, - And you’ve said that you wouldn’t sing this shit anymore.
- Oh, and you kinda told him that you would, - Dave said.
Martin shook his shoulders, giggled and took a sip from his beer. Dave was indignant:
- I just can’t comprehend, what’s his problem? Why did he left?


First part of the tour finished and June was closer and closer each day. Something had happened with Martin. He was flying there and back from the cities they were performing into Santa-Barbara. He was explaining it with some everyday domestic worries like Ava should see a doctor and something happened in his boiler room and Susanne can’t do anything with that. Dave was mad and he shouted at him why his sheep dog named Darrel couldn’t improve his hopper, Martin was squeezing his teeth and remained silent. Then something happened with Susanne again and Dave said in a fit of a temper why the fuck his sheep dog is not able to entertain his wife in his absence. Martin twitched as if he was hit by high-tension current and hit Dave against the wall Dave tried to resist and the next hit broke his lower lip. If not Fletch and Darrel probably he wouldn’t be on stage tonight at all.
Fletch was watching them the entire show because there was a hurricane in the air between them. Martin never raised his head from the guitar. The next show was canceled and this time Kessler said that Martin has serious problems. Third Susanne’s pregnancy proceeding badly even to say unexpectedly badly. She was in the hospital all the time. Martin thought he’s the one to blame and Susanne thought that it was Martin’s fault either. Like it always happens in this life the thing that should save and protect relationships, threaten to break everything and even Susanne’s life. Then Kessler announced that the second part of the tour was canceled because Martin couldn’t be there because he should be with Susanne. Dave found Martin late to ask why the fuck he always the last to know what happened. Martin couldn’t explain.
- So you decided? – Dave asked.
- Yeah.
- And what did you decided?
- I should go.
- What about our tour?
- I am sorry, Dave.
- I am sorry, Dave, - Dave raised his head up to the ceiling, - I am sorry, Dave. Fucking motherfucker, all that I ever got from you, Martin was I am sorry; Dave but I can’t do it any other way.
- Dave, I must apologize to you but I really can’t handle it any other way.
Dave noisily exhaled and inhaled. There was a glass of water on the table he drank it with one gulp.
- You are perfectly know, - he said throw the squeezed teeth, - she was manipulating you with this child she didn’t need him she just trying to keep you. She felt her rival and decided to kill him in her most deadly weapon, and this weapon is your own child. She needs you. Well she doesn’t need you; she needs this substitute of the happiness and normal being that your presence in her life is keeping.
Martin rubbed his face tiredly.
- Whenever the reason could be she is the mother of my children. And of my future child.
- That’s was the plan, - Dave hissed.
- I don’t want to discuss it with you anymore, David, - Martin said.
- Spiderwoman.
- Shut up, Dave.
- When you will see her, give her my congratulations, and tell her that after a long agonizing fight and a series of precise impacts she won, let this bitch be happy!
- SHUT THE FUCK UP! – Martin screamed.
Dave flipped him a bird and ad some more dirty comments about his gesture too. To be honest he was ready that Martin will hit him. Martin was going to rush toward him but he stilled. His eyes were scary. But he did nothing.
- I can’t take it any more, - Dave said moving closer to him, he turned to steel from the burning rage inside him, - If you didn’t know until now, I have people that I care about near me. The person that I love and I care. Who loves me and cares about me in return. The person to whom I do mean something. You are the one who demonstrating me all my life that I am nothing.
- I am not demonstrating you that you are nothing, Dave.
- You are. Every day and every hour, - Dave relaxed a little, - And I will show you someday that I do mean something in this band and in your fucking life, Mart.
- Dave, stop it, - Martin said, - I beg you to stop.
- I won’t. You know I won’t stop. I fucking can’t stop when you are sawing me it’s fucking hurts too much, Martin, ‘cos I am alive… I am alive!
- Me too, Dave.
- You too what?
- It doesn’t matter, - Martin said, - No, It doesn’t.
- It does, Martin. IT DOES IT DOES IT DOES! – Dave said, - It means so much for us both if we ever existed it is fucking important. I am not nothing. But when I will be dying you won’t come. You wouldn’t do it for me.
- Dave, I…
- If you will go now – never come back, - Said Dave, - If I am nothing to you – you are nothing for me too. It’s over now.
Martin smashed the glass against the table, turned on his heels and went out, shutting the door behind his back.
The second part of the tour was canceled. Andy Fletcher refused to give any comments about the tour and band future plans. Dave Gahan in his interviews doubted in a possibility to the band to have a future at all.

Chapter 14

With the heavy heart Dave was spending those days. He heard nothing about what was going on with Martin; Martin didn’t like it when someone picked his nose into his personal business. He didn’t like it – in his unique inner sense it meant that the fuck you will know anything even if you will be keen to know it. Dave called Fletch, but he couldn’t tell whether Fletch didn’t know, or had an order not to tell him. Dave screwed up Martin’s children’s nanny’s head and finally found that Martin was in hospital with Susanne. One week passed then another, then Dave drunk a little for courage and called.
- Something’s happened, Dave? – Martin asked.
His voice was very sad and very tired. Dave suppressed an impulse to give him stupid names now like sunny-bunny-lamb and shout “I will come to you right now!” and fuck to everything he would just drive to his place now to grab his curly head and press it to his chest and never let him go, don’t care if he’d try to fight.
He cleared his throat.
- Everything’s alright, Mart I was just worrying how are you there. You both.
- We are okay, thank you Dave, - Martin’s said.
- Okay?
- It depends.
- It depends from what?
- Dave…
- Mart?
- Is that all, Dave?
- No. Your voice is very tired.
Martin hemmed.
- Probably that’s because I am tired, Dave. Nothing special. It happens.
- I know what happens exactly, - Dave said, - Martin I wanted to apologize…
- Stop it Dave, - there was a reproach in Martin’s voice, - You know, I don’t like it.
- Ok let’s put it other way, I am sorry…
- You’d better feel sorry for yourself, - Martin whispered. Dave decided to step back a little just in case.
- I probably called at the wrong moment, - he said.
- Probably you are right, - Martin said quietly.
- Martin we need to talk. I know that’s not the right time and I am not the right person. But I need it. We need it. Could you call me when you will be able to?
- Okay, -Martin said and it seemed he just wanted this talk to finish sooner.
- You promise? – Desperately asked Dave already knowing that it was useless.
- I promise, - obediently Martin said.
They hung up. Dave knew that Martin wouldn’t call but he was sitting near the telephone the next day and the day after that day too. And he was looking at his cellar phone each 5 minutes if there can be some unanswered calls.
Two week passed and Kessler told Dave that Susanne gave life to Martin’s son. Dave rushed to call him, but it appeared that Martin was deadly drunk already; he hardly can understand human words. And next few days there was the same story.
At least Martin thought that few days passed, he was really surprised when one of his Santa-Barbara’s friend called him and asked why did he missed their soccer match with neighbors.
- Wh-wh-what is the date now? – Martin asked in hoarse voice.
It appeared he was hard drinking for three weeks in a row. Susanne and their little son Calo returned home and they now lived together as a happy family. If you allow me to put it that way.
Then Dave called again and said that unlike some Great British Composers he wrote a new song himself.
- Good God! - Martin said trying to light up his cigarette with the shaky hands.
- You know, I think I can. It’s nice. You know there was a song, written by me, at Songs of Faith and Devotion’s period, remember? You didn’t like it much.
- No, Dave, at some point I liked it, - Martin objected.
- Why we never used it in our albums?
- You know that Daniel is in charge here. And he decided what to take. I’d say he’s taking not my each song, - Martin said.
- You have to be a complete idiot not to notice that Daniel is playing in your team, Mart.
- Which team? – Martin was deeply interested he even tried to stand up from his armchair with surprise, - Which team exactly Daniel Miller is playing? And the main question is against whom, Dave?!
- Oh, yeah, I knew you will say that I am talking bullshit, - Dave said, - and everything is just a ridiculous accident! Why are you lying to me all the time?
- Am I lying? – Martin dropped his cigarette onto the carpet and cursed under his nose.
- Stupid Question, Martin, I am sorry, how can you know why are you lying? It is your nature. You know, Martin you’re reminding me of the scorpion from the anecdote. The scorpion swore to the fly that he will transport her on his back across the river, when she refused and tell him that he will sting her, he told her - I swear I won’t sting you. Then he transported her and stung her and before fly’s died she asked him –“Why did you do that? You promised me that you won’t.” “I probably lied” – he said.
Martin suddenly burst out in loud laughter, he couldn’t stop. Dave was waiting patiently. Martin bent his knee and lifted his leg to his armchair, wiping the tears off his eyes.
- You listen, - he said, - It probably hurts.
- A-ye? – Asked Dave with some interest, - Sweetheart, what’s wrong? The truth is always hurts.
- That’s enough, Dave, - Martin said.
- No it’s never enough, Martin, and you perfectly know that it will never stop. I am just curious, why?
- Dave I hate to defend myself.
- You’d better learn how to love it before it will be too late. Yes I do blame you and I am fucking have my fucking right to do it. You think I am right? You have nothing to tell me, am I right, Martin? You have nothing to tell me from the beginning of it all that’s why you never tell. You know what? YOU KNOW….I really don’t know what was making me to hanging on you, what was keeping me beside you, Mart if I wasn’t that stupid to believe in a fantasy that you are talking to me with your songs. I wouldn’t be around for that long if I wouldn’t think about your every word and I felt that we WERE talking like that. I know I am a fool, but I was mad at you, I hated you for your callousness and heartlessness, I…then I was listening to your songs and I was understanding that I am fool again and I am wrong. I thought…I thought….I was not worthy of that feeling that you showed me, sometimes I believed sometimes I didn’t, but I was blind. I walked forward, blind dumbass just to forget myself in a second and believe that you are thinking about me. It’s just I thought right yesterday…what if….what if I was wrong and there was nothing about me? Rubbish? Everything that was ever happened between us was inside my mind? What do you think, huh?
- I won’t defend myself from you, - Martin said, - You can think whatever you like.
- Why’s that? – Dave asked perplexed.
- I…I….c-can’t, - Martin said, his cigarette burned his fingers but he didn’t noticed, - I can’t fight you. I won’t for it’s useless, Dave I can’t protect myself from you. There is no way how to do it for me. I surrender. I surrendered a long time ago. I think it will kill me in the end because it became more and more painful each day. Probably it wasn’t less painful at the beginning but there was some hope and there was the point to believe and to suffer and to fight. You can do whatever you want just stop torture me with that shit. You can hurt me and I will be howling from pain, you can cut me and I will bleed.
Dave fell silent a little bit abashed by Martin’s monologue.
- Mart, - his voice trembled.
- I…I didn’t finish yet, Dave, - Martin took his breathe convulsively, - I think I sounded pathetic but I didn’t mean it. I won’t contemplate suicide or drown in my sea of sins, so you should take it easy Dave. I will survive somehow. Just don’t push me more. Leave me alone, Dave. You can think whatever you like, and you probably right in your every thought about me, and I just don’t know how to communicate at all.
- You wanna tell me not to call you anymore? – Dave suggested sadly.
- Huh?...n-no, - Martin said, - You can call me if you want.

In my other world
There is no pain
And all my thoughts
Are clouds of happiness

And I don't really want your kiss
My thoughts don't make me cry
My heart's not filled with grey sadness
My ears can't hear you lie *

Dave met Daniel in New York City and they were sitting and talking at the Starbucks with the paper cups of cappuccino. Daniel broke Dave’s hopes about the next Depeche Mode meeting, telling him that Andy is too busy with his restaurant in London and Martin said that he need a half-year long vacation because he is not able to work, he should find some peace of mind.
- Didn’t had enough vacation yet, - Dave bitched.
Daniel’s face showed nothing, he licked plastic spoon from the cappuccino foam.
- I can’t take it no more, - Dave said, - I am bored to death.
- I wish I have your problems, - Daniel answered.
- Had he… written something? Anything?
- Uhm, no he hadn’t, - Daniel shook his head, - as far as I know.
They were silent now and Dave was plucking at the sugar paper bag in dismay. He was gazing at the New-Yorkers running down the streets and yellow taxis froze in street jam, and asked Daniel about the possibility of making his own solo album. To his surprise Daniel was happy about it, probably it was because he blamed himself for the Exciter’s troubles a little bit and he was worrying about them. Well, Dave’s intention to do something really made him happy; otherwise he probably decided to think twice.

In my other world
My pain is bliss
I own your soul
I own your kiss * Counterfeit 2 Martin L Gore (In my other world)


While Dave was touring his London Paper Monsters show visited Alan Wilder himself. They chatted for a while off stage with his elder son from Joanne Jack and Alan, and then they drove Jack home and went to have late dinner around eleven o’clock or something.
Dave felt a strange hint of weird nostalgia for the London’s smell and for the cotton table-clothes and Victorian roses and Fleur-de-lilies, when he went inside a small cozy but posh restaurant; they chose to sit alone from the other side of the partition not to see anyone.
- That’s rather weird. Andy wasn’t there, - Alan said.
- Mart is performing in Milan; - answered Dave, - guess where Andy should be?
Alan laughed.
The waiter brought a bottle of red wine, wrapped in a snowy-white starched serviette, poured a small amount in Dave’s glass. Dave lifted a glass up to his face, smelled the wine, tasted it and nodded to the waiter, saying yes to his choice of wine. The waiter poured wine into their glasses.
- For your success, - Alan lifted his glass to click it against Dave’s.
- Thank you, Alan.
They both took a sip.
- What did HE said about your solo creative actions? – asked Alan a little but sarcastic, liking his lips and putting his glass back to the table. He took a piece of hot flavored bread from the basket and started to chew it thoughtfully.
Dave bit his lower lip.
- I received a message that your disc is in the post-office, Dave, but actually I’ve called you by another reason. Do you have a chiromant’s phone number? – He mocked Martin’s intonations.
Alan was laughing so hard he should bent down.
- Oh…no….I can’t take it no more, - he said still giggling and slapping his hips with his palms, - fucking asshole, I’d sell my soul just to see what’s going on inside his kinky mind.
Dave shook his head.
- You’d better don’t, - he said, - sometimes ignorance became bliss. I was arguing with him about that, but now I am sure that there should be things that I shouldn’t know for sure. He sees it just like with that.
- Oh, I am sorry, - Alan smirked, - if it is HIS opinion…sorry I forgot that his authority is indisputable for you… till the end of times.
- Alan… - Dave reproached.
The waiter brought him his fish-and-chips and rice with vegetables for Alan.
- Nice bread, - Alan said moving a basket closer to Dave.
Dave shook his head sadly.
- Alas! – He said.
- It is no fun getting old? – Alan giggled.
- I got to work hard, - Dave said, cutting the piece of baked salmon.
- I am talking shit, you are looking perfect.
- Thank you very much indeed, - Dave said.
Alan took another sip of wine.
- Are you going to write something as incredible as Exciter was?
- You didn’t like it either?
- Dave. – Alan shook his head as if to show Dave that he wouldn’t risk their friendship to tell him the truth.
- He was very upset about album’s failure or so it seemed. Yeah. It was a hard impact for him. I never realized actually why it happened…
- He just finally got what he deserved, Dave, - Alan said, - God never forgives such opinionated humans. However I’d look naive if I’d say that I hope that it could bring him to reason.
- He’s having hard times now, and he’s really feeling bad, - Dave said, - you shouldn’t judge him that harsh.
Alan shook his head again hiding his smirk.
- We’re all feeling bad, Dave, You and me and we are having hard times too. The difference between him and us is that he doesn’t give a shit.
- You’re still mad at him? – Dave said.
- God bless you! - Alan snorted.
- You are, - Dave repeated reassured, - I mad at him too. Sometimes. But sometimes I terribly miss him. I am trying not to think about it but I didn’t succeed.
- Dave you are nuts, - Alan said, - I’ve told you before.
- You know I’m seeing him in my dreams very often.
- I know, - Alan said in a strange voice but Dave didn’t pay any attention.
- I am trying to talk to him even in my dreams…
- And it is useless even in your dreams? – Alan bent down lower over the table with understanding.
- A-ha, - Dave exhaled, - But on the other hand I am seeing him and he is near and he’s looking at me and smiling. I am feeling warmth here inside, like when I was a child. It’s okay that he is ignoring me, because I can take it like this.
- God Gracious! – Alan hid his face in his hands, - Listen. I am sitting here with you now and I have a feeling that twenty years passed but nothing’s changed. Absolutely no fucking thing…I have a strong feeling that we said good bye to each other yesterday. And yesterday we were sitting there at Basildon’s pub and you were tactfully and diplomatically clarifying if you have a chance to get closer to Martin to woo him a little.
- I was sure that I did it perfect and nobody noticed my true intentions, - Dave said.
They both laughed out loud.
- Alan, you are such a cunning bitch! – Dave announced when he decided he laughed enough.
- Am I? – Alan asked and emptied his glass.
- Exactly, - Dave scratched his nose, - I was such a dolt, I can’t believe that.
Alan was still giggling uncontrollably.
- And YOU! – Dave pointed at him with his index finger, - were shagging my best friend and making laugh of me because I had no idea how even to mention it in his presence! It is not a best way to behave, my friend Alan, this is not a friendly gesture!
- You see, Dave, - Alan said after a brief pause, - Nobody ever brought me such a pleasure that you did. I thought I will die looking at you. You seemed like the half of your brains was turned off completely, Andy even wanted to help you to cross the street, worrying that in the state you were a car can hit you pretty easily. But this first motherfucker held his attention tightly.
Dave pensively lit up his cigar and started smoking, enjoying aromatic smoke.
- I didn’t know he was…
- You didn’t know him at all.
Dave was rocking in his chair and he nodded thoughtfully several times.
- You DON’T know him either, - suddenly snarled Dave, he gazed at Alan and asked him, - When did it happen?
- What exactly?
- You know what.
- Almost straight away.
- Straight away? – Dave seemed stunned.
- Ah, Dave, you were perfect romantic. I swear, I knew it from the start, I saw it in his eyes everything would be too easy, two glasses of hard drink and a porno-movie and he will ask me for more.
Dave hemmed, not believing in Alan’s single word.
- Oh, c’mon… - he said.
- Okay you won, - Alan said, - I lied. He didn’t need a porno-movie, drinks were enough.
- How you did you see it, I can’t understand?
Alan shook his shoulders.
- I have no idea, - he said, - oh, no he’s not, - he answered on Dave’s unasked question, - Not with Vince, he was fooling him I am confident in that like in my nephritis. I knew that he’s one of that kind he will play with you and manipulate you, I just knew it from the start and refused to brought up any ceremony here. I took him by his dick and everything worked out right. Don’t worry, Dave, he loved it.
Dave was drawing strange lines in the ashtray with his cigar thoughtfully. He was frowning.
- You’ve told me before that you love him, - gloomily he said.
- I loved him, - Alan lit up his cigarette, - And I love him now…uhm… up to some point. I love him the way he was.
- The way he was? – Dave smiled sarcastically, - what was in him before that he hasn’t got now? Or opposite what he hasn’t got before?
Alan laughed but sounded not funny at all.
- Dave, you will be a cause of my death. You are blind as a newborn puppy; you see nothing even before your very nose, probably by some hormonal reason.
- Am I blind? – Dave asked Alan, - Am I see nothing?
- No use to be offended by the truth.
- As Martin often says “To each his own”. Every person has his own truth.
- I had no idea that tonight I was invited on a Soiree dedicated to the Quotes of the Great Ones!
- My truth Alan is that I am changing, not him. I don’t want it, I hate to change anything but he’s making me to move forward.
- Dave… - Alan hissed desperately, - you are like a ram, you are butting the wall with your horns and don’t want to hear anybody!
- Alan, - Dave left his cigar in the ashtray, bent forward leaning his elbows on the table, - And why are you so sure that everybody around you are complete idiots?
There was a smile that froze in the corners of Alan’s thin lips.
- I don’t think that everybody’s idiots. I think YOU are idiot, Dave. Martin is an asshole, he manipulating you for no reason, just in the name of the game, he just enjoying the feeling of his power over you. You are looking at him dropping down your jaw like seeing some kind of Creature Divine, and you are allowing him to use you like he desire, praying God to never allow Martin to stop desiring to use you.
- Check please, - Dave said in a steel voice.
- Why do you look like I hurt your feelings? – Alan asked wiping his lips with the napkin.
- You don’t have an idea? – Dave threw his fork onto the plate with a clunk.
- You should agree I’m right.
- You just like to wank off your favorite fantasy.
- Am I like to wank off my favorite fantasy? – Alan stood up in a surprise.
The waiter brought a check and Dave gave him his card, not even looking at him.
- Got small change? – He asked searching in his pockets.
Alan pulled ten pounds and left on the table.
- You know, Alan, all shit in my life started when you appeared.
- You think so? – Alan giggled.
- I think so, - Dave nodded.
- I think quite the opposite, Dave. If I never appeared something would never started for sure. You will be hanging around Martin thinking about the nature of this strange affection you feel to him, and our Genius is too passive to do anything by himself, so you have to be grateful for everything that I done to you both.
- Bullshit, - Dave said, - you are talking bullshit.


He remembered it completely when the phone rang and Martin said that some guy with name Alan will come to the listening to take a Vince’s place. Because he felt the first prick of jealousy right then. No, this jealousy meant nothing special, just a friend jealousy. Also this guy was not that simple, he was rather diplomatic and clever and cunning too.
Martin was impressed by Alan’s musical abilities, was really impressed by the fact that he knew synthesizers well and knew what programming is. Martin was impressed in general. Full Stop. He was agitating Andy to agree with Alan’s candidature ardently. Dave actually seen the lad as a rather adequate person and why not, actually? But Fletch became mad without any reason and Martin had to use all his charms to make him change his anger into a mercy. Dave was giggling all day, watching Martin flirting with good old Fletch; he even made him his five o’clock tea. Fletch and Martin seemed to him like a married couple, with young wife urging her old greedy husband to buy her fiftieth mink fur coat or something. Dave started pacing across the room following Martin and Fletch, murmuring:
- I want a fur coat too! - But they both seemed to fail to understand his humor. So Dave left them alone soon.
In the end they reached an agreement at the point that Alan will be working with them temporary, but he won’t be a member of the band. Soon Dave understood that temporary started to mean a year, even if their new album went out without mentioning Alan’s name. But Alan didn’t care much as it seemed. And soon Dave became really aware of the Martin’s attention to Alan. He couldn’t see any reason but he seemed that he was stuck on him at some point.
Miller told them to include a new song into the album that one Martin was written with Vince.
- What will Vince tell for that? – Martin asked.
- Everything’s alright, - Daniel said.
- Who will be writing songs…in general? – Martin asked.
- You will, - Dave and Fletch said at once.
- Why me?
- Are you clinical idiot or what? – Tactfully asked Dave.
- But I’m afraid, - Martin said.
Martin was sitting near the table, propping his chin with both hands. There was an empty sheet of paper right before him. He was sitting like that about four hours, but it was useless, all ideas that were coming into his mind were paralyzed by a thought that this song would be heard by so many people. His dumb solitude was breaking from time to time with Dave sticking his head with big pointed ears inside and yelling:
- Everything’s ready?
He was never listening for Martin’s answer; he was closing the door earlier.
Then Alan entered the room. He jeered Martin for his creative process for some time.
- Massage to the creator? – He asked, smirking and put his hands on Martin’s shoulders.
- Piss off, - Martin giggled.
Soon they were sitting together, still giggling and shoving each other, and soon they composed something. This something was recorded as a single Work Hard, and released. It was not that bad. Dave didn’t like the song but since Daniel said that it’s okay, so it was okay then, Dave decided that he probably don’t understand nothing.
Alan was new in London and he didn’t have a lot of friends there, so he was hanging on them three, so even Fletch got used to Alan soon and actually couldn’t remember now why he was objecting that hard before.
And once it happened.
Alan invited Martin to his apartments, to show some musical records. They drank a little more then they decided. Martin was ready to go home when something or someone had pushed Alan to do that. He grabbed Martin’s face with his both hands and crashed his lips with his mouth. He didn’t know why. He just wanted it like that. He pressed Martin’s lean frame into the door.
Martin behaved very passively. He didn’t answer on Alan’s kisses but, on the other hand he didn’t try to break free. Alan turned Martin’s head aside and started to cover his long neck, his ear and his temple with kisses. Martin obviously loved it more, because he even bent his head to let Alan a better access. He sighed somehow convulsively and Alan knew he hit the right spot.
Alan grabbed his head, messing his fingers with Martin’s crazy mane, he was holding guy’s waist with his other hand and he dragged Martin off the door toward himself, making Martin throw back his head and ravishing his mouth.
- I want you now, - he whispered hoarsely, when he was forced to interrupt his kiss for the lack of the oxygen. He felt Martin tensed in his arms immediately. And that was the thing that gave Martin out faster then any other words. And the actual state of affairs was…that he, Alan was the first. Alan found this thought amusing.
More then amusing. He was excited by this though above any reasonable levels, he actually didn’t think that he would take a tutor’s role this time.
- Oh, c’mon, - he whispered right into the Martin’s ear – You know, I will do nothing that you wouldn’t want me to…let’s go…since there’s no one here, let’s go…kissing, - he said.
Alan was so turned on by his new role he forgot about the world outside immediately. He didn’t lie to Martin, he was just kissing him, tenderly and carefully and rather long time like if blonde guy was a girl, and actually even more tenderly then he could kiss a girl. Under the shirt, down and across his nipples, he made Martin feel dizzy with his caress and made him stop thinking. He satisfied Martin’s later, and made him satisfied him too. Well and actually everything had been started from this very moment.
The trap was lying somewhere near, because there seemed to be no moral or decent limits on their relationships. And they enchanted them because of that. There were the times when Alan couldn’t think about anything normally but about how it will be tonight again. It became a drug to everyone and there was no way out. Fletch probably started to feel something about them both, because this chemistry was too hard to hide; only Dave haven’t got a clue of what’s going on.
He didn’t understand and he refused to see something wrong. He was sitting with them, contriving another idiotic sounds meditating on synthesizers keys for hours, but it did no good. Martin was with him but at the same time he wasn’t. Something had happened to him in the way that he closed himself from Dave completely like a shell. And that was the thing that was making Dave mad.
Someday he refused to go with him and Mark at some concert, and he even didn’t name the reason why. Alan was standing near him and a strange smile was curving the corners of his mouth. As Dave remembered it was a first time that they had a fight with Martin.


Dave and Christian Eighner even had a lot of laughs about it. They were joking that stiff boiled Martin drove really mad even his wife Susanne so that she turned him out of house and home. Consider the situation where they both were he should really contrive to do it. Martin moved into his studio under the legend that he was making his own solo record, but he wasn’t communicate to anyone for several months, he was just drinking hard.
Dave was trying to provoke him to talk or to react somehow, but that was useless. Probably it was much easier to have a fight with the wooden door. To be honest he started to worry, what ever happened in their fucking miserable life that they wouldn’t call each other for several month. Week’s okay, he could take a week, or two…well even three…probably. But two months?! He was giggling from the start that they were never stopped talking to each other for that long. Three, four and five and Holy Shit, half a year, he actually stopped laughing.

He's like a king without a crown
He wears it like a clown
Watch him disappear
I wish he would come down
So call before you drown
I won’t always be around

He's a ship without a sail
He's not listening when you speak
Living for the bottle
He'll be sitting there all week **

He was provoking him still, trying to fucking hit the soft spot. Anyway he was even happy almost when he heard from Eighner who was Philippot’s friend who was working on Martin that they are recording Counterfeit Square.

A dog without a bite
Still looking for a fight
All in black
He won't be home tonight
There's no light on in his eyes
How heavy are the lies
Just jump right out his skin
He'll take you for a ride ** Bottle living by Dave Gahan (Paper Monsters)

Martin released Stardust video and Dave didn’t have any doubts that he meant them both. Hotel rooms damn hell fucking hotel rooms, strip-dancers in his Exciter’s outfit. So you believe that I am a whore dancing before your eyes? I can’t say I’m surprised. Because I am. Martin’s words hurt him like a slap in the face.

Ah look what they've done to the rock'n'roll clown
Ah rock'n'roll clown, look he's down on the ground
Well he used to high fly but he crashed out the sky
In a stardust ring, hey rock 'n roll king is down ***

He knew that the song held a big part of evil self-irony but words hurt him anyway.

Roll on up, won't you come and take a look at me
Roll on up, come one at a time, and see me
See my painted-on grin as a stand up to sing
In a stardust ring, hey rock'n'roll king is down ***

Dave answered him that HIS time’s probably over but Dave’s time is only in its beginning and since that he didn’t hear anything from Martin. But then they started to talk officially. Dave was boasting Martin about his achievements and he was happy about the attention that his album had and he was very optimistic at the topic of his future success. Martin didn’t share his enthusiasm, but was saying that he’s happy for Dave. Dave was thinking that Martin is envying him and he was telling him about that. Martin was laughing and carefully mentioned that it all seems a little bit different from his point of view. Then Dave’s conscience started to nibble him and he wrote several songs where he tried to apologize somehow, his songs were howling – talk to me, I can’t be without you, do whatever you want to do but talk to me. Martin didn’t react; he was acting if he didn’t understand and Dave was up to wail. He felt shitty alone in his studio. Well there were people, musicians and his friends, but he felt his complete and absolute loneliness there with them all. He even started to bring his white cat to his studio, whishing him to make his master to feel better.
Cat jumped up onto the armchair, where some guitar was laying. He smelled the guitar and curled himself into a ball right on the guitar, while his paws were lying on the strings. Christian said that he’s feeling like on Exciter’s recordings. Dave didn’t got his hint from the start but later when he comprehend he almost strangled Christian for his joke. Well, but he shouldn’t be that naive, Christian helped him to write songs, he probably understood everything just perfect.

But he's the leader of the band
He is a lonely man
Do-Don't you wanna take his hand
Yes you know you can, can, can*** Stardust (from Counterfeit2)

As far as it seems Susanne made a deadly impact to his pride, when she Martin couldn’t ever forgive. He was playing with his kids, carrying his son on his hands, his grown up daughters was with him everywhere he even let Viva and Ava sing with him on stage. His wife Susanne seemed to him like an annoying appendix to his children. In some paradoxical way what had to kill him, made him stronger like nothing ever could.
He found a way to find a lover in his tour. No, not a usual one-night-stand whore, not a half-an-hour fan, but a lover, he even introduced her to journalists like his new girlfriend. He managed to move to her place somewhere to the east, into Turkey. Christian took a receiver from Dave’s hand and asked Martin giggling, why the hell wouldn’t he became a Muslim, so he could have as much wives as he want.
Martin laughed and answered Christian that it was a good idea. But the romance didn’t last too long and soon there was another near him.


The Californian Show was so close and Dave became really aware of that fact more and more each day. He feared the possibility to see him again, but more then that, he feared the possibility that Martin wouldn’t come. Alan, cunt laughing at him but he’s fucking right in his every word.
Californian concert wasn’t the best show he ever did because Dave was nearly paralyzed when he understood that Martin’s here. He understood it before it was said to him and even before he seen them, he felt them with his skin like a prey feels a hunter. Christian and his guitarist Martyn almost dragged him on stage, his legs failed him.
Martin was tanned and with short hair again, he came closer, he looked at Dave’s referent Jeff with some perplexity in his face and hidden laughter in his eyes, because it seemed that Jeff tried to block his way. Darrel pushed the guy easily with one soft movement of his shoulder and stood still near the doors of Dave’s dressing room, crossing his hands, bold and clever with bright sarcastic eyes, tall and big like a jenny from the Aladdin’s fairy-tale.
Dave cursed, turning around.
- I am sweaty, I need to take a shower, - he said.
- I came here not to fuck, - Martin’s lips pretended a smile.
Dave set down on the corner of the table and rubbed his face with the towel.
- That was mean, Martin.
- Sorry I can’t help it.
- What do you want? – Dave asked tiredly looking at Martin.
- You know, - Martin said, not exactly answering Dave’s question, - it was weird. I mean it. Really weird to hear Depeche Mode song’s from the side but that’s was not that awful like I thought.
- Thank you for your warm words, - gloomily Dave said.
- UHM….I mean you did it fine, - Martin corrected himself.
- I didn’t believe you’d come, - Dave said.
- Me too, - Martin nodded somehow confused.
And Dave didn’t feel himself too comfortable under his heavy gaze. Someone knocked and they both turned their heads. Martin finally found enough strength to move.
- I just wanted to see you, - he said, came closer and hugged Dave, carefully tugging him closer as if he was afraid that he can break. Dave choked with the air and he felt that something is agonizingly painfully hurting him inside somewhere between his ribs, - I have to go now, before Darrel killed someone there, - he whispered stepping back.
Dave noticed stains from his sweat on white Martin’s t-shirt but Martin seemed didn’t care about it much. Dave let him go, kissing him lightly into his cheek right before Martin’s gone. He bit his lower lip not to let this traitor’s warm tickling to spread all through his body.
- Bye, - he said.
- Bye, - Martin answered and didn’t look back.


I am free from him. Finally.
Dave woke up in the morning early.
He returned home after jogging and took a shower, put on fresh t-shirt and pants. It was Sunday morning and he didn’t want to wake up his family, so he carefully shut living room door. He turned on music not too loud and came closer to the window. Musical center played random, he wondered why this fucking random chose from five inserted disks his Ultra. He couldn’t remember that he listened it before, but nevermind. Dave was gazing at New-York in the morning. He was gazing at the streets and buildings colored warm reddish yellow with the tender morning sunlight. His cat was walking across the room pompously curving his back and lifted up his tail. Dave took cat into his hands and cuddled him.
- Look, cat, it’s beautiful! – He said, making cat’s muzzle look at the window. The cat was doomed to hang on Dave’s hands gloomily, he seemed not feeling himself very good but, it seemed by his philosophic muzzle that he was done to fight with his master already.
Dave was thinking about everything. He was thinking about everything that he should pass, he was thinking about what he’s got now. He was thinking about the freedom he gained now. He was thinking about the price he should pay, he was thinking about Him only for a little just to find in deep relief that he’s not in him anymore. He finally found his freedom.
He was thinking that he did it by himself.
Then he heard something in the song.
And again.

Step out of your cage
And onto the stage
It's time to start
Playing your part
Freedom awaits
Open the gates
Open your mind
Freedom's a state **** Freestate by M.L.Gore

Dave dropped the cat with the surprise; cat said “meow” very gloomily and landed on his four paws. Dave slipped down by the wall; his chest was burning and scorching inside again so he couldn’t hold back his tears.
He was cursing very badly for a long time and hit the wall with his head.
- Bastard, - he said to the cat, sitting on the floor and staring at Dave, - bastard. Bastard. Bastard.
He was wiping tears from his cheeks, paying little attention that they are rolling again and again.
- Fucking Pleasure-breaker, - he smirked through the tears to a cat, who wasn’t much impressed if to judge after his white philosophic muzzle, - I thought,…I am a fool….I though it was me. I thought I did it by myself. I changed my life and I grew up and I overdid myself and I finally killed this shameful disease, slowly killing me from inside all this time. I finally killed this ugly love and just in this exact moment it appeared that he wanted me to do that. He was making me to do that. Holy fucking shit Jesus Christ, God I need your mercy ‘cos I’m gonna jump off the window right now, oh shit, he fucking did me…Jim. You know, this cunt, he didn’t even hide it, he was thinking about it in ninety six. Fuck. I didn’t noticed that…I am dumb, but he’s the fucking bitch…he is a fucking bitch, Jim….Jim…Jim, fuck, Jim. Fucking shit it is so immoral, mean, unfriendly, bitchy and Gore-style fiend-like, I lost my ability to speech.
Dave jumped up onto his feet and hid his face in his hands, his shoulders were shaking from laughter, - Fuck you Jim, I love him. I just love him. Again and again. Over and over again. Fucking shit. Go away Jimmy, - he kicked the cat with his leg, Jimmy jumped off offended, - Now I know what to do! Yes, I know what to do. And truth will be on my side. I’ll do it my way. Gahan style now.
He called Depeche Mode’s press-secretary to make some appointments with several magazines because he, Dave Gahan is ready to make an official statement.
He hasn’t been surprised when next morning his telephone became white hot, it was ringing that often. Miller was cursing him nearly half an hour with such words, even Dave never heard them from him all twenty five years that they were working together. He asked Dave what the shit did he eat before and who’s selling him drugs again, and when Dave answered him that he doesn’t taking drugs now Miller said, you cunt you better take! Kessler said: are you fucking nuts? Fletch from London went straight to the point and asked if Dave needs a psychiatric emergency, he can call if whatsoever. Christian called to he wondered wouldn’t he be fucking fired after all this, as he is a Dave friend and you know because the god moves in mysterious ways.
- Guess who DIDN’T call? – Dave asked Jennifer, entering his bedroom and telling her everything what happened this morning, - no, really, guess who?
Jennifer turned onto her side and yawned, pulling a blanket to her head and said:
- Don’t offend your baby.
- Jeez! – Dave said indignantly, - Life hates me. Imagine it! I am fighting with Mart and my own wife taking his side, huh? Fucking shit, where this world moving at?
- Fuck you, Dave, - Jennifer said, - I want to sleep.
The cat jumped up onto the bed and rolled into a ball near Jennifer’s hip, impudently gazing at Dave and showing with his entire look that unforeseeable circumstance forcing him to take their side too.
Dave retired to the living-room, hit the soccer ball of his step-son and called Miller.
- Gahan, why haven’t you died when you were a kid? – Miller asked.
- Listen, Dan, I’m asking you to make a new Depeche Mode convention. I have a lot to say.

Chapter 15

Greed. He knew it was all about greed. That was what he said to Alan as they were walking downstairs to his car.
- It's all about greed, - Dave said, - you know, I'm always wanting more. I hate to share him with somebody. Anybody. It fucking hurts me. I'm ready to strangle myself, when he is with somebody else. Yeah, right. Just like that.
Alan narrowed his eyes.
- Not a boy's speech, but a husband, - he said.
- I hate even Fletch sometimes, because Martin needs him.
Alan laughed.
- Such a perverted cynicism.
- It always seemed to me that he could do more for me.
- For example? - Alan showed some interest to their talk now.
- I don't know. I told ya... It's all about greed. I know, I was thinking about it. He doesn't even write songs for himself. Never. It looses its sense for him. He doesn't need anything. I know, Al, I know. He doesn't think about himself. I know he does it for me. He gives himself to me. And that's not a game. He never speaks about our relationships, he refuses to discuss them. He doesn't say a word. He even doesn't consider necessary to demand something in return. He just silently gives himself to me, realizing that would be better for me, but it won't be better for him. That’s the truth. That’s the fact.
Alan cleared his throat.
- Are you laughing? – Dave asked suspicious.
- Oh no-no-no, I think I’ve lost my sense of humor completely at the moment - said Alan.
- I feel like an idiot, - said Dave, - everybody knew everything and I looked and can't see again.
- You see, Dave, - Alan said suddenly seriously, - I actually was fighting with you and it was the deadly fight for me. If I ever had a chance to…if not to win but to knock you out of his mind at least in a half, I could be happy.
- Really? - Dave asked surprised, - Did you need it? Why the fuck?
Alan shrugged his shoulders.
- It was fucking useless. Every time we were together with him I always was three's a crowd.
- S-sorry?
Alan sniffed. The air seemed to be so cold today.
- Look, I’ve got to go now, - he said, extending his hand to shake Dave’s hand goodbye, - I was so glad to see you, David. And I wish you every success in your solo works.
He turned around on his heels, muffled up himself in his jacket and walked away.
- Al! - Dave hailed him.
Alan turned around already near the corner of the next building.
- And remember, - he screamed from the distance – I will do my best to replace you if I ever have a chance, Dave, so you'd better watch out!

We're damaged people
Drawn together
By subtleties that we are not aware of
Disturbed souls
Playing out forever
These games that we once thought we would be scared of

When you're in my arms
The world makes sense
There is no pretense
And you're crying
When you're by my side
There is no defense
I forget to sense
I'm dying*

As Dave wished, they were gathered in EMA office purchased a control stock of Mute, in Los Angeles. There was bald as an egg Daniel wearing glasses, leather jacket and unbuttoned shirt without a tie, Jonathan Kessler from Baron with his stylish moustaches a-la porn-star of the 70-s, and Mister Fletcher. Mister Martin Lee Gore didn’t find a way to come.
Dave announced that he desires to raise a question about his, Dave Gahan’s, role in Depeche Mode and alternatively asked about the extension of the authorship of some future songs. Miller’s face turned black.
They had to arrange another meeting. Dave’s nerves reached the verge. When he hadn’t found Martin at the bargaining table for the second time he was cursing like the Lord-Creator seeing on the seventh day what he had done. But soon his secretary entered the room and apologized for mister Gore. Secretary announced that Mister Gore was late because of the law proceeding dealing with his divorce with Mrs. Boisvert, and he kindly asking dear gentlemen to delay the conference on fifteen minutes. Bruce shook his head discontentedly. Dave was drinking so much coffee it seemed to him, he has stopped blinking.
Fifteen minutes passed. Miller stood up, keeping his hands behind his back and gazing at the window. Kessler gnawed his pencil; Fletcher was intently staring at his electronic notebook and poking it with the plastic stick. Dave giggled and wondered aloud if Fletch and Martin were finishing the set of online ‘sea fight’ game, but Andrew’s gaze grounded him to the chair. Dave’s assistant, Jeff, brought all the papers, apportioned them in front of the members and sat near Dave, clearing his throat. Bruce looked at the clock on the wall collated it with his platinum Rolex watches and gave an order to begin.
Dave said that he had analyzed all the arguments from the last meeting and decided to change his requirements.
- Excuse me, gentlemen - said Martin entering the room. He nodded to all present members of the crew, and sat down near Miller.
Dave paused, waiting while he’ll open the folder lying on the table before him.
- Mister Gore, I decided to change my requirements concerning the last meeting, where you couldn’t present, but I can inform you…
- I’m pretty well informed, Mister Gahan, - said Martin, not raising his head and not moving a muscle, - please continue.
Martin lounged on the chair; unbuttoning the collar of his white shirt under the austere suit without a tie, put his leg in his usual manner ankle on the leg. Dave’s just noticed that Miller and Martin didn’t wear ties fundamentally. Dave pensively loosened the knot of his dark-grey tie practically in tune with his shirt.
- Thank you, - he said, - in that case, I won’t reiterate. I will be maximum short. I think that in this case, fifty percents of our releasing material under my authorship would be sufficient redemption.
- Redemption? – Martin jerked up from his chair; - why are you so sure you are captivated here, Mister Gahan?
- Martin, - Miller pulled him by the jacket, forcing him to sit down, - Gentlemen, can I ask you…
- No, I’m afraid, I was wrong, excuse me, Mister Gore, - Dave said, rubbing his cheek, - yes, I’ve expressed my point incorrectly. I just think, yes. I equitably hold that I, being the second creative component of the band, can demand appropriate rights for me.
Fletch shuddered and that was too obvious.
- I don’t want to derogate Mister Fletcher’s administrative endowment in the band. But I should mark that he isn’t a creative component of Depeche Mode…of what remains from Depeche Mode. But Mister Gore is a creative component and if you don’t mind, me. That’s why I think I have the moral right to raise my vicious demands here. I hope I won’t be too arrogant but I must warn you if I will fail now, I’d say I have my doubts about the possibility of our future work together, Mister Gore, - Dave said, - Probably you have some questions?
Dave looked at Martin point-blank. Martin bore this look without an effort and shook his head as answering no. Dave didn’t like it. That wasn’t the reaction he needed most now.
Fletch raised his hand.
- We ask to interrupt the conference for a fifteen minute break.
Bruce nodded idly.
Fletch, Daniel and Martin retired to the smoking room. Dave was strolling the corridor calmly, thinking about the way how to steal Martin from the smoking room, because it was only the first part of his plan. Before the smoking room’s doors Darrell was standing, crossing his arms on his chest. He pretended not to be acquainted with Dave at all.
- I need Martin, - said Dave appearing right before his face, but Darrell didn’t even bat an eyelid. Meanwhile, the time was running out.
Dave sighed and started looking through the glass door, trying to pass over Darrel either from the right, or from the left until Miller pushed gloomy Martin with his elbow making him to look at Dave and Dave waved his hands, showing him that he want Martin to get out.
- What the fuck? – asked Martin opening door.
- I need you bad, - Dave said, - in the small hall.
Dave entered the next room right after Martin and Darrell, who was following his boss step by step and closed the door.
- Martin, we need to talk, - Dave said.
- I don’t, - Martin answered calmly.
- Okay, I need to talk.
- Talk then.
- In private, - Dave looked at Darrell evilly. Bodyguard stood there imperturbably, he doesn’t give a shit about all Dave’s problems – Martin, I am asking you to give me just ten minutes in private, is that too much? – Dave lost his voice.
- Darrell, - Martin said quietly and his genie fumed away in a split of a second, - Well? – He turned to Dave quickly, - Have you decided yet?
- Yes, - Dave said.
- So then, why did you need me? What for? – Martin asked – for bigger pleasure?
Dave laughed unwillingly, not because it was that funny but probably because he felt extremely nervous.
- Yeapp – he can’t help but giggled, - a lot bigger.
- Finished? – Martin hissed.
- Nope, - Dave said, - Martin I need you.
- Do whatever you want, Dave, just don’t bother me. What the fuck are you doing?
- I’ll tell you.
- Oh, c’mon please tell me. If you’re leaving, leave, Dave, and leave me alone. I am far too tired.
- But I am not.
- And I am so glad for you…
- You should be glad for us. There is no me there is no you in this world there are only we.
- Dave, I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t want to. If you won’t leave then I will.
- The fuck you will.
- Huh?
- You don’t have the right.
- Why the fuck is that?
- Because then you will ruin my life. And you won’t. You won’t take your responsibility for ruining my life. You know you will kill me.
- Don’t overestimate…
- If you want me to prove you that I am right, Martin, I will. You perfectly know you can ruin me I’ve proved you many times, if you want, I will do it again without a second thought.
- Uh-m…no, thank you, - Martin suddenly nodded, as if calmed down, - I think I believe you.
- Excellent, - Dave said, - when your words have some weight in your opponent’s mind, it flatters.
Martin didn’t answer. He was standing opposite Dave and looking somewhere far-far away. Dave was looking at him and didn’t know what to say. The silence was pressing them both now. He felt that Martin was getting angry and it made him glad and sad at the same moment. He felt it hurting Martin, because he can feel it too. Suddenly the tears appeared in his eyes.
- Listen, you there, - Dave whispered, - you are my life, Mart.
He clutched Martin’s hand. - I know, - Dave said, - I know that you remember too good all the shit we’ve been through.
- I call it Reality, - said Martin.
- A-yeah, - Dave said, - And our Reality is - after all that you’ve given me, after all that you’ve done, Mart, to me, Mart, I’m already a part of you. We’ve grown together like Siamese twins with our heads and asses, like Daniel says often. If you ask me what I want, Mart, I’ll say that I don’t fucking know, Mart. I want it all. All you’re giving to me and even more. It’s not enough. I want to give myself to you, Mart. I want you, Mart, beside me, Mart. When you’re away, I have a phantom-limb, as if I have a half of my body amputated.
- Tell me something I don’t know, Dave, - Martin said with some weird smile in his face.
- You want to ask me, why am I, fucking asshole, have started all this shit? You have your point to ask me, but you should know, Martin, you drove me into the position where I have nothing to lose. Please, don’t speak. Stop before you can and I will say something wrong… please. I will say it. I have nothing but the phantom-limb now, Mart. Fuck it. I’m screaming to you, take me back and don’t let me go, ‘cause if you’ll do, I’ll snatch your collar and won’t let you make a step. I’ll kill everybody who will be standing on my way to you, Mart. Mart, you were always telling that words are meaningless, that they’re not important for you. You know, I can prove them, and I had done it many times, Mart.
- That’s enough, - Martin said, - I’d prefer to avoid any sacrifices this time.
- Well, let it be, - there were notes of disappointment in Dave’s voice.
Martin hid his face in his hands, his shoulder were trembling from laughter.
- And what now, Dave? - He said, - What are you wanting me to do now?
- I don’t have an idea, and I don’t care, - Dave said, - you’re the smart one here; it’s your time to decide. I needed to get you and say what I didn’t manage myself to say for twenty five years. And I did it. What to do next, I actually forgot to think out. I didn’t believe in my luck to do that.
- Fuck you sideways, Dave… - Martin said very honestly.
Jeff was opened the door, and showed his head.
- The break is over, - he said.
Martin walked to the door first.
- Promise to never let me down, huh? – Dave said.
- Dave… - Martin waved away from him in a tip of temper.
- Well, I’m a dolt, - said Dave, - Dave is Dave, what can I do? Chuck, please, do something, huh?

You have bound my heart with subtle chains
So much pleasure that it feels like pain
So entwined now that we can't shake free
I am you and you are me** I am you by Martin. L. Gore

Jeff adjusted his tie, it started to throttle him. He wiped his forehead. Bruce poured some mineral water into his glass, drenched his lips with the napkin and cleared his throat.
- So, gentlemen, let’s continue our conference. Before the break we’ve heard Mister Gahan’s opinion, so now it’s time for Mister Gore to talk.
Martin pensively licked his lips, looking somewhere aside, lazily slid his gaze through Gahan, who has nervously clutching his own hands in cramp.
- I, - he started slowly, as if he was pondering, - believe…
He stopped and started again.
- We discussed the possibility of giving Mister Gahan fifty percents of all the songs we can record on our possible new album.
Dave stopped breathing.
- It think… probably …it could…be…a little bit too much, - Martin said, Dave ground his teeth not to laugh, fuck me sideways, it worked out right, he thought. His assistant started a debate with Martin and Dave actually wanted to kill him for that.
- But Mister Gore, - Jeff said, tousling Parker in his hands, - we can justify it.
Dave looked at Martin’s surprised face; he crossed his arms on his chest and leaned his back against the back of the chair and that was a bad sigh for Jeff for he didn’t know that. Jeff’s voice strained, he took a sip of water from his glass he somehow decided that Martin is giving him an advantage with his behavior.
- In fact now we already have fifteen songs, written by Mister Gahan in co-authorship with Mister Eigner and Mister Philpott, whereas we have only three songs from you, mister Gore. We think, in the name of justice…
Probably he was wrong.
- I think it is too difficult for me to decide what should be done in the name of justice, Mister Jeff. Unfortunately, I don’t know your surname, - Martin said, leaning above the table, there was steel now in his voice. Dave saw Jeff’s upper lip, twinkling with sweat and realized that his assistant would die himself, and perhaps even die naturally and without any Dave’s help. At least, Dave wasn’t envy him, he saw Martin’s eyes end in this eyes he say Jeff was already dead, - Probably I didn’t make it clear enough. That was the definitive answer.
- I think it will be unfoundedly to have such a risk after twenty five years, - Miller said without raising his eyes, he was trying to soften the situation.
- Uhm…yeapp, - Martin nodded.
- I…appreciate your serious consideration of my proposition and your willing to collaborate with me, mister Gore, - Gahan said, pushing Jeff with his leg under the table, since Jeff was in a half-swoon condition, - no, really, actually I appreciate. You even can’t imagine, how much.
Martin took a sip of water from his glass, he didn’t move a muscle.
- Will you take an advantage to interrupt the conference to discuss new circumstances, mister Gahan? - Bruce asked, stroking his striped tie, peacefully lying on his round belly, his main muscle, as he was often joking during the dinners.
He thought that his main duty was to eat and to drink as well as to be on friendly terms with some big people in show business. Gahan was joking usually the showbiz is a big shit-hole, and Bruce claimed that no one would pay him that much, if he didn’t do the shit that others don’t want to.
- No, - Dave said, - we don’t need to.
- What can you say about Martin Gore’s point of view then? – asked Bruce.
- I have nothing against it, - Dave said quickly, catching Martin’s piercing gaze crossing with Daniel and Andy, with deep satisfaction. He closed his eyes thoughtfully, counting to ten to maintain the needed tempo and produce the desired effect, - I have nothing against it, gentlemen, - he said, parting his hands, - I agree, I totally agree with everything. I think you have your apprehensions and I have mine. I’ve granted to you all the necessary material, and I insist that I should have my maximum participation in a creative part o f activity of Depeche Mode. I emphasize maximum possible.
He saw that grin has spread on Martin’s face without a reflection in his witch eyes. He realized that Dave had won. He grinned again, leaning in the table and rubbing his elbow with his hand. He admitted his defeat. Dave hardly suffocated with the wave of relief, overflowing him. Martin didn’t have his way back. He’d done it. HE HAD FUCKING DONE IT!!!
Gore whispered something in Miller’s ear, and Miller assured everyone that the fact of mister Gahan’s more active participation in the recording of the album they consider as a right and fair one, and he supposes that they will be able to take a risk of approximately one fourth part of the future album.
Gahan made an offended face, but at heart he was celebrating his victory. And after half an hour of heated arguments he imitated capitulation. Demanding that one of his songs will be securely released as a single.
Then everything went its course, Martin hung his jacket on a seat back and began to smoke. Bruce ordered coffee for everybody and green tea for himself and Daniel by calling his secretary. The working routine has began. They’ve discussed all the details about the future work. Bruce’s assistants, two young managers a little elder than Jeff, but already round and bald diligently recorded the work schedule in New York, London and Martin’s Santa Barbara studio. Three singles and album.
Miller was tediously dislodging the increasing the part of his own income from the single’s selling. He was doing that every time, and Bruce was screaming at him without any embarrassment in his rude expressions, jumping up from his chair, strolling round the table, but Miller couldn’t be displaced from his position, and Bruce realized with horror, hearing his first words that he will be forced to surrender. Sooner or Later.

We're damaged people
Praying for something
That doesn't come from somewhere deep inside us
Depraved souls
Trusting in the one thing
The one thing that this life has not denied us

When I feel the warmth
Of your very soul
I forget I'm cold
And crying
When your lips touch mine
And I lose control
I forget I'm old
And dying * Damaged People by Martin L. Gore.

Martin woke up almost in the morning for no particular reason, probably just because the habitual conditioner’s buzz had subsided. Someone opened the balcony door carefully, and he could smell a cigar smoke from there. Martin cursed; he felt a desperate need to smoke, in spite of all his attempts to give it up. He stood up, took his bathrobe from the bathroom on the way to the balcony, in a pocket he found a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter and went out, screwing up his eyes and tying his waistband..
The balcony was girding the whole first floor per se it was more veranda than a balcony. That’s why there was nothing surprising in the fact that Dave came out for a smoke on five o’clock in the morning appeared near Martin’s bedroom. Martin lit a cigarette and stood aside Dave in a boxers, melancholically examining the ocean through the jutting out palms.
- Hello everybody, - Dave said, lisping.
- Morning, - said Martin and let out the smoke through his nose, - why did you turn off the conditioner?
- I have laryngitis, - Dave said gloomy and inhaled the cigar smoke.
- I know that. I’ve asked why did you turn off the conditioner? – Martin asked again heartlessly.
Dave was staring at him offended.
- It’s hot in here, - Martin explained.
- Oh-oh-oh! - Dave exclaimed, - it is hot for them, it’s hot in New York, yeah, you can’t live without a conditioner there, and this place? I can feel the air; – he breathed the air in his lungs with the blissful look. His cigar was smoking towards Martin. Martin said pensively:
- You know, Dave, finally I’ve recalled what the smell of your cigar reminds me of.
- And what is that? – Dave asked suspiciously.
- Remember, when a skunk was hit by a car on the intersection near the studio? – Martin asked, giggling, - he was stinking for a month probably.
- Cunt – Dave hissed.
- I love you too, Dave, - said Martin.
Dave put his hand on Martin’s shoulder in a silence. They were standing and keeping silence for some time.
- I’ve heard you’ve met Alan, - Martin asked suddenly, - how is he?
- Ye-a-app, - Dave answered unwillingly, - everything’s alright. He’s fine.
- Well, it’s nice to hear, - Martin said.
A strange bird with a long yellow tail was jumping across the lawn; they were gazing at it for a long time in complete silence.
- I bet you are dying to ask me if he mentioned you, –suddenly Dave said.
Martin was keeping silence.
- No, he did not, - said Dave.
Martin was keeping silence.
- You know I’m lying.
- Yes, I know, - Martin said calmly.
They were standing onto the balcony for some time more in silence.
- He’s a nice lad, - Dave said.
- Yes, I know, - Martin said.
- Fuck, what the hell am I talking good things about people? – Dave said suddenly, - fuck them. I won’t. They all are just assholes. All of them, who are good. Fuck them all. And I’m bad. I am bad. But I’m standing on your balcony wearing shorts at five o’clock in the morning and smoking my crushed-skunk-smelling cigars. And all of them are fucked up. This fucking life is unfair. Evil always conquer the Good. Hallelujah!
- Heh-heh-heh, - Martin hee-hawed cheerfully, - he throw off his cigarette on the lawn with a click and went to his bedroom, - Dave, you fucking asshole, turn on the fucking conditioner, huh? – Martin asked in a most tender voice.
- What did you say? – Dave screamed, indignant.
- You’ve heard it, - Martin said.
- And what will you give me for that? – Asked Dave, - Will you give me? I know the magic word – Ple-e-e-a-a-ase…
Martin was laying in his bed, waving away Dave’s grumbling, and soon quiet and steady buzz said that the conditioner had finally started to work. Martin closed his eyes and strangely fast fell in a deep slumber. That was the consciousness of Dave’s hands, holding him across his body, that awakening him. Dave whispered gloomy:
- One of your rare good qualities is that you’re always sleeping naked.
Martin didn’t know what to reply, anyway, Dave wasn’t asking, he just claimed that it is necessary for him to take off his shorts immediately. Then he jumped back to Martin, dreamily rubbing his cheek against Martin’s back.
- Dave, - Martin said suddenly, when he realized all the odd smooth feeling of Dave’s cheek on his back, he even forgot about the slumber, - why the fuck did you decide to shave?
- Uhm…any special requests? – Dave giggled cheerfully.
- Oh, no, - Martin said.
- Oh, yes, - said Dave.
Martin suddenly turned in Dave’s arms took his face in his hands and tenderly kissed his chin and cheeks several times.
- A-a-a-h, cool…I’m like-a in heaven, - said Dave.
He kissed Martin’s lips slowly barely touching them, like it was for the first time, like they weren’t lying now so close to each other, naked, sharing the same bed, pressing their hot bodies together. Martin answered to his kisses very tenderly, then Dave kissed him again. Then one more time, and one more, and more. He caressed Martin’s hair, because he knew it was his weakness, making Martin’s lips more open towards him. Martin’s tongue was tickling his lower lip and he caught it with his lips, making them both grin, because it was tenderly still, but too funny. Dave’s hand was lying under Martin’s head, he was caressing Martin’s lower lip with the finger of another hand, dreamily staring at his mouth. Martin’s fair eyelashes trembled on the cheeks, and suddenly Dave was managed to kiss his forehead hard, just to hide his own tears swelling in his eyes. It was joyful tears.

My joy, the air that I breathe
My joy, in God I believe
You move me ***

He seemed to whisper something like that aloud it was the only thing he could whisper that moment.

My joy, the blood in my veins
My joy, flows in your name
You move me ***My Joy by Martin L. Gore

Martin’s grabbing hands hardly broke his romantic mood by clutching his ass unexpectedly.
- Oh, fuck, - Dave said, unwillingly taking Martin’s hands off and making him lie on his back.
He threatened above Martin, leading his hands behind his head and looking on his catch with a smug grin. Martin couldn’t bear it and he lowered his gaze under these burning eyes, burning with some strange fire, black, strong and warm. Dave was watching Martin’s lips opening slowly...
- Ooooh, fuck,- he added, feeling his body coming alive after that motion.
Dave threw his leg over Martin’s hips, slowly closing, shortening the distance between them. When it shortened to the critical, his mood changed a little. He slid along Martin with all his body down and uttered a celebrating howl. Martin breathed out loudly, his movements didn’t leave him indifferent. Dave was moving on him a little bit more, this time he was sliding up, throwing head back and breathing out himself:
- A-a-a-ahhhh… - a satisfied smile nevertheless didn’t want to leave his face.
Dave arched his back, interrupting their contact, getting almost sexual pleasure from watching a kind of fear of loosing this contact on Martin’s face. Dave looked at his face, as if he was charmed, shifting his gaze from eyes to lips and back.
- You know what? – Dave whispered, - I wanted to say, but either it was out of place or I kept forgetting. I’ve read a book about the medieval times
- Oh my god, you’ve read… - Martin said.
- Don’t make me laugh, - Dave closed Martin’s mouth with his hand, - so, there’ve been said, that people who had green eyes, no matter women or men, they say are witches and sorcerers. I’m looking at you and sometimes I understand what they were afraid of. Yes. I’m afraid of you sometimes. Oh, c’mon, yeah, that’s right… look, look at me like that, I can cum only because of your gaze, honestly…
Martin shook his head, this outlook didn’t suit him, perhaps.
- You don’t want to? – Dave asked.
- Probably later… - Mart said and the tone of his voice was not better than his gaze.
Dave breathed in through the closed lips, throwing the blanket away; he slipped along Martin’s body caressing him with his both palms up and down from his thighs to his shoulders. Martin groaned and that was the best reward for Dave’s energies. He repeated this caresses again and again, playing with his mate’s body in different ways, just like it comes into his mind. He was caressing him from above and below, licking his neck, grasping him between his hips with his palm. He put out his tongue, tickled his navel, up, catching his nipple with his teeth, making Martin to scream.
- A-yeah, - contentedly said Dave, putting out his tongue like the lizard and started licking the bitten nipple like a cat lapping water with unbelievable enthusiasm, - you know what, he said make a smacking sound with his lips, - when I’m depicting all this shit on a stage, it’s for you.
- Fucking slut, - Martin said.
- Yeah, - Dave said already near his mouth, - give me names, yeah; you know it fucking turns me fucking on.
Martin grinned, when their lips embodied that they couldn’t be parted. Dave opened Martin’s mouth to him, thrusting his tongue inside Martin’s mouth, he was so excited by the feeling of immense power upon his lover’s body, more than he could ever felt before. Their tongues confronted in a fight for the domination, but Dave made his amends today.
Dave turned away for a second, breathing and licking off his lips, enjoying the taste of Martin’s skin, taste of Martin’s kiss, pressing his man’s head against the pillow, he kissed him again, he actually just captivated his mouth. Next time Martin just grasped his mouth with his lips, making Dave enter him again.
Dave lowered along Martin’s body without interrupting their tongue contact, until he reached the precious aim. He was sucking him for a long time in fever then he asked him to stand up. Martin obeyed, kneeling on the bed. Dave spread between his legs, continuing his fascinating pastime, explaining that it was much more interesting like that. And it was really more interesting, he caught Martin’s dick with his mouth at the bottom and from the top, with his lips, tongue, delighting their closeness at the moment. Dave grasped Martins hips from behind, pushing him inside more and more and making Martin to come into his mouth. And Martin did it. However, he didn’t owe him something…actually, he returned the pleasure very soon, making Dave not only not to regret about it and even think out some plans for future.
They were making love for a long time and different ways, and then they fell into a deep slumber. They were awaken by the telephone ringing, when indignant Fletch shouted that today is Monday, actually, and they must be at work sometimes.
- What time is it now? – Martin asked yawning.
- I fuck you both, eleven! – Fletch screamed.
- Oops, - Martin said, - perhaps we were too carried away while hanging Britney Spears’ posters into the bathroom wall, you know.
- Give me Dave, now - Fletch said.
- Fletch, - Dave was still lying, holding Martin across his waist, so he was shouting in the receiver from Mart’s shoulder, not listening what was said to him, - Fletch, be human, don’t croak. Don’t you want this album, huh? Yeah, we don’t have time, yeah, we will record it. Okay, okay, I’m already up and on the way, fuck me if I am lying. Fletch. Andrew. Could you please order me, some Starbucks coffee, huh? And chocolate Donuts. Aha. I’m already up and on the way, Fletch. I’m outside already. I am sitting in my car.
Martin put the receiver on the bedside table.
- Ma-a-a-art, - Dave whispered and bit his ear.
They arrived at the studio not as soon as they seemed.
But Fletch just gave up on them.


They began to make a record. That one that was later named Playing The Angel, in New York, there was released their first single. Martin’s single. They were making a video for this song, then somewhere on the East Coast they had to meet Anton for the photo-session, after that they were ready to go to Santa Barbara. Dave was in a good mood in the morning one of Elvis’ songs came to his head. He laughed and opened the next door to his dressing room.

You look like an angel (Look like an angel)
Walk like an angel (Walk like an angel)
Talk like an angel (Talk like an angel)
But I got wise
You're the devil in disguise
Oh yes you are
Devil in disguise* Elvis Presley Devil in Disguise.

Martin was sitting at the table he was playing with his cell phone. He looked at Dave askance, it wasn’t clear if he understand Dave’s sense of humor or not. Nothing could be ever clear when he was around.
- You know, I’m glad it happened, chuck. I’m glad that you divorced, - Dave said immediately.
- I should be surprised? - Martin said coldly and put his phone in the pocket.
- She was never worth you, - Dave said.
- Oh, my God, Dave! – Martin shook his head reproachfully, - this is complete bullshit. She was my wife and she will always be the mother of my children. Apparently we deserve the partners we have.
- Oh, how generously was that! I’m going to cry and my make up will flow.
Martin looked at him deeply and Dave understood that he shouldn’t have said that.
- You know, - Dave tried again, - I’m thinking sometimes…why God sent us such a perverted punishment? What have we done? Was it SUCH bad?
Martin didn’t say anything, he didn’t even smile. Dave put his hand into his pocket and took out something; he stretched it to Martin on the opened palm.
- Check it out, - he said.
- What’s that?
- Your lucky coin, - Dave said, remember, you gave me this? I always keep it with me. In a hospital, where we were with John, the guitarist from Duran, I’ve almost killed the nurse, when she lost it…I was shouting as a wounded right in the ass lynx. And not in vain. She found it finally. It was always near. When you weren’t. I was holding it in my hand and it seemed to me that you were with me. I wasn’t afraid, even of death. I was afraid of not feeling it anymore. Not feeling you. My hands grew cold, and it was warm. I wanted to feel it one more time. When I stopped feeling, I remembered about it. Thanks to the doctor, who didn’t let them take it away. It brought me back.
Martin didn’t answer anything, his jaws were paralyzed, his hands and shoulders were trembling. Dave seemed to cry himself. He jumped up and turned, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He walked along the room to calm down.
After some time Martin rose in a chair, his face becomes impenetrable.
- Where is Fletch? – He asked.
- Yeah, where is our Guardian Angel?, - Dave repeated, - it’s high time for him to appear, until we, carried away with our talk, didn’t fuck up all the good things we have found in each other, and didn’t quarrel on a closest couple of years.
- We will quarrel anyway, - Martin said melancholically, - sooner or later.
- Yeah, we will, - Dave nodded willingly.
- But not now, - Martin said.
- No, - Dave confirmed, - not now.
Martin grinned.
- Do you also think that he is an Angel?
He didn’t really want the answer. It was so alike him.
Dave laughed, tossed up the coin and caught it in the air.
- When I talked to Bugs Bunny he always advised me to take life as it is. Life is not good but life is not bad or so other people are thinking. It is hard thought. But it is hard for everybody. Forget your despair. You are not the first but she is not the last.
The man who was sitting at a table looked at him with the weird expression on his face.
- Should I take it like that…- he said – All my problems are following the fact that I have never talked to Bugs Bunny?

The End

(Original Version) 24.12.2006 (English version) 21.06.2007 Ankhesenpaaten Ra ©
Translators - Ankhesenpaaten Ra, Jam