Date: Mon, 07 Sep 1998 12:16:11 +0000
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: Akim-Akim-04

FOURTH

The Borough streets, at that time, were deserted. It was a time Piero
preferred. When he arrived at the Pomegranate Tree Fountain, he saw a boy
sitting on the narrow edge, poised, his feet on the curb, his arms around
his knees, his head leaning on his arms.

They looked at each other. Piero thought the boy was attractive and felt
the temptation to try to pick him up, but he didn't dare. The boy returned
his glances, serious, silent. Piero passed a little farther; but after a
few steps, stopped, and turned around to look again at the boy. This one
was still looking at him. "Perhaps he too wants me, but he too doesn't dare
make me understand..." Piero thought. He hesitated for a short while, but
then continued on his way left the Borough through the opening in the walls
near the restaurant where Gianni worked.

Gianni.

They had started a relationship. Beautiful. Gianni always giving him
attention. Piero, little by little, became aware he was falling in love
with the young man. At times, Gianni let Piero penetrate him and the youth
couldn't say which he liked more, to take, or to be taken. He loved
everything about the way Gianni made love. Piero let the other guide him
and felt Gianni was at the same time his lover and his teacher.  The more
they learned about each other's body, making love together became more and
more beautiful.

Piero was so happy and as a consequence, his quality of life had improved a
lot. He was more successful in his studies, more available at home and
merrier around his friends and school mates.  They celebrated their six
months together.

One evening Luigi told him:

"I've found a place, would you came?"

"No thank you. I'm with Gianni now, you know that..."

"Yes, but how does that matter? I like you and I know you like me. Anyway,
I don't want to steal you from your Gianni."

"No, really. I'm sorry, but you are just too late..."

"That's too bad. I never stopped wanting you."

"You didn't miss boys, all these months. And then, I'm no longer a virgin,
as you can easily guess, anything but a virgin..." Piero said, pleased and
giggling, .

"What's the point?  You two are not married."

"It's as if we were."

"But Gianni has other boys..."

"I know." Piero lied, but that news hurt him deeply. So, with a certain
hardness in his voice, he added: "Don't insist, if you want us to remain
friends."

Luigi left in short order. But to Piero it was a bad shock. When he was
alone with Gianni, in his mansard, before undressing he said:

"Gianni, if I went to bed with another man, would you be sorry for that?"

"No, you aren't a possession, my possession..."

"No, not an possession, but your boyfriend, yes..." Piero suggested hoping
the other understood and corrected his words.

"Well, we are not married, anyway."

"So then... you go with other boys?" Piero asked holding his breath and
inside himself he yelled: 'tell me it's not so, please, tell me no! Even a
lie, but tell me no. I'll believe you...'

"Sure, it happens at times. Little adventures, nothing serious, because I
like being with you."

"But... I'm not enough for you, then?"

"Man is polygamous by nature, Piero. Monogamy is just a straight men
invention to make sure whose the children are. But we don't have this
problem, thanks to god. Hey, you aren't jealous, by any chance?"

He wanted to answer him 'yes' but instead he said: "And you bring them
here?"

"Of course, where else? But, shut up, now, I want to make love. Undress,
come on."

Piero would have liked to run away, to leave him on the spot, but instead
he undressed and they started making love. But to him, now, everything was
different. It was not like all the other times. Now he saw himself, felt
himself as just one of the many boys passing on that bed, one in many. This
was no longer making love, it was just plain sex. And now the same Gianni
seemed different to him. His kindness, his cares now seemed no more
directed at him, Piero, body and soul, but just at his body, one in many,
just to get the physical relief that granted him his pleasure. He felt he
was used, not loved.

It's true that Gianni had never told him he was in love with him (and he
neither, to tell the truth, had told the other about his love...). Not even
when they were making love. Not even that night, of course. And for the
first time, when both of them were sated, Piero got up and started to
dress.

"What are you doing?  You aren't leaving?"

"Yes, tomorrow morning I've to wake up very early." Piero lied.

"We meet Friday evening?"

"Yes." Piero lied again.

But Piero later wrote a short letter to Gianni, a farewell letter. He
concluded with the words:

"Don't look for me, I don't want to see you any more."

Gianni didn't look for him. Piero went never again to the "Angelo
Azzurro". For some months he went nowhere. He plunged into his studies
trying to think about other things. But the fact that Gianni didn't look
for him, burned him, even if it was precisely what he had asked him. It was
one more proof that he was just one of the many boys of the handsome
waiter. He threw away Gianni's pictures, all but one, the one where he was
at the sea side, with just a very narrow speedo on, because anyway this was
just the picture of a beautiful male body... he told himself.

Piero had made a complete walk around the Borough and entered again from
the side of the drawbridge. He slowly walked along the street and crossed a
young couple, half embraced, coming from the opposite direction. He was
again near the fountain, but now the boy had gone. So he decided to go back
home.

He did find that home three months after he parted from Gianni, he
thought. He had decided, he too, would have lot of boys to amuse himself
with, but without any illusion of finding a great love, his mister
right. At the beginning he could buy just a mattress, a table and a
chair. But then, little by little he had furnished it and now it was his
small but welcoming nest. The rent was low, moreover, one year before, the
property had installed an elevator, so that he didn't have to climb all
those stairs on foot. His parents came to visit him four or five times, a
little more than once a year, but usually it was he who went to visit
them. The first time his parents were distraught about the extreme poverty
of the furnishing (notwithstanding there was now even a book shelf and
three more chairs) and his father had offered him some money, but he
refused it.

"Thanks dad, but let me do it, little by little. It's a question of pride,
perhaps, but..."

His mother insisted he had to accept that money but his father agreed with
him, and with some pride. So, with his savings, he transformed his mansard,
little by little, and he was now really happy with it. His occasional
conquests, when he brought them to his place, said: "It's nice, here at
your place." and that paid him back all the sacrifices he had to make. In
fact, for almost two years, he ate just once a day at the University
restaurant ( he did lose weight and his mother was rather worried) but he
compensated when he was invited out. He accepted all invitations,
shamelessly, because that meant saving more money to better his home. For
those two years he did not buy new clothes, books, other than those for
school or records. And to save, he also stopped going to the gay clubs.

 At times, in those two years, he asked himself if he had been right to
leave Gianni. Their parting had burned inside him for a long time. He
missed Gianni. Perhaps it would have been better if he was more yielding,
more understanding... and who knows, but, little by little, he might have
made him fall in love with him... But then he thought that he was right to
have broken up with him, that he would have suffered lot more by remaining
with him and knowing that in that bed were passing other boys, other
bodies, between those same sheets happened other orgasms from whom he was
excluded.

Before going to bed, that night, he looked for Gianni picture. He looked at
it for a long while, then he said to it: "Ciao, silly man! Who knows what
are you doing now? Who knows where are you now?"

About three years after parting from him, one afternoon on Roma Street he
met Luigi and learned that Gianni had moved to another city.  Now he could
look at Gianni's picture without bearing a grudge, without regret, without
sorrow. That body, even though he had learned to know it so well, even
though he had had such an intimacy with it, now for him was rather foreign
to him. His first man! The one he offered his virginity! he smiling
ironically said to himself.

The following morning he went to school: the assignments for the up coming
term were being posted. Then they would start giving the mandatory tests
for graduation. He was assigned to a Florence High School and he was happy
with that. Carla was instead being sent to Monza, but she refused because
of her pregnancy, showing her medical certificate. Piero loved
Florence. And not just for Michaelangelo's David, but anyway went to see it
no less than five times in those two weeks.

In Florence he also had a very agreeable adventure. One evening, he was at
the Crisco, when he noticed that a man about thirty years old, hair the
color of ripe wheat, never took his eyes off him. So he stood up, his glass
in his hand, and approached the man:

"May I sit here?" he asked with an hesitant smile.

"'Course, please." the other answered with a coy smile.

"I'm Piero. Are you a foreigner?" he asked while sitting, struck by the
man's accent.

"Yes, Hungarian, but I have lived in Florence for seventeen years." the
other answered, then said: "By the way, I'm Martyn, with a Y."

"Hello Martyn. I'm a Literature teacher, I'm here for the high School
graduation tests, just passing through. And you?"

"I... I do nothing. I'm just the lover of a notary, a gigolo." the other
sniggered. Then asked: "How long do you stop here?"

"About nine."

"So... we have a little time."

"But... your lover?" Piero asked, a little astounded.

"He knows that sometimes I bring home a friend and doesn't care. In the
villa is a park, and there is a place in the park where I can bring
whomever I want, without problems."

"But... are you in love?" Piero asked, even more surprised.

"In our own way, yes. He saved my life, or better, he gave me back my
life. And I'm grateful and I will never leave him, until he dies... or I
die. He is a little my father, a little my lover, a little my only, true
friend. Without him I could not live..."

"Older than you?"

"Yes. He is sixty one, I'm thirty three. I'm comfortable with him. He
understands I need, some times, something... different. So he furnished for
me a place, just for that, and told me I have to feel free. To him it's
enough if I love him, if at times I go to knock at his door to be his
man. And I love to be his. I love that very much. I wouldn't do nothing
with you if you weren't just passing through. Because I don't want to build
ties with others. I belong to Andrea, my life belongs to him. Literally."

"Do you want me... to come at your place?"

"I'd like it very much, if you too want that. I feel strongly attracted by
you."

"You are so beautiful..."

"I know." he said, but without boasting, just as a fact.

Those two words, if said by others, could have been self conceited, but not
coming from him. Piero smiled him.

He said: "Want to go, now? I really desire you."

Piero nodded yes. They took Martyn car. The villa was just outside town, in
the hills. Even if it was night, Piero had the sensation that the villa was
very old and beautiful. He said so.

"Tomorrow morning I'll make you do the grand tour, if you want."

"I'll like that, but in the morning I have to be at school."

"At what time?"

"At nine 'o clock."

"I'll bring you there with my car. After breakfast. If you intend to stop
here, of course." he corrected himself becoming aware he was almost
imposing his desire on the other.

"Very good, thank you." Piero answered, amused by that mix of self
confidence and insecurity.

His place was a kind of small cottage, very graceful, furnished with taste,
with precious antiques. Martyn led him to the first floor.

"Here is the shower. I'd like us to shower, before making love."

"Yes Martyn, that's good."

"Together, or would you prefer to be alone?"

"Together is OK, it can be agreeable."

"Yes, it can be agreeable." he answered.

They undressed. Martyn had a perfect body, almost like Michaelangelo's
David, just his member was considerable and of a very different consistency
. They washed each other and became very aroused.

"May I kiss you?" Pier asked, hesitant.

"Sure." the other answered with a smile.

Piero embraced him. Drew him nearer and kissed him, under the water jet
that was titillating their now clean bodies. Then caressed his lean,
quivering, strong and gentle body. The other seemed to melt in Piero arms
and slightly trembled all over, holding on tight to him.

"Piero, I hope you'd like to take me, I'm not a 'top', you see." he said
looking in his eyes and waiting for an answer, almost holding his breath.

"As you like... and willingly." Piero sweetly answered.

"Let's go into my room. On the bed... not here."

They dried each other and, naked, Martyn led him to the king size bed. And
there they united in a long embrace during which Piero took him several
times, in several positions. While making love, Piero watched him: the
Hungarian man had changed, he was intensely beautiful, radiant.  The way he
offered himself to Piero, giving himself freely, not passively, fascinated
him. He thought that the notary was very lucky to have such a lover. And
that he was also lucky to have been invited by Martyn to enjoy the man in
such a way.

He felt intoxicated, having that splendid body between his arms.  Their
tongues playing hide and seek incessantly, his hard rod so tightly and
warmly encased deep inside his partner.  Sliding in and out in the most
lovely of dances. Their eyes were shining from the intensity of the
pleasure they gave to each other. And then, they both came, with a long,
deep, soft moan, trembling against each other, sharing the intensity of
their pleasure.

Finally they relaxed, lying side by side. Piero again embraced him and
Martyn cuddled up against him and intertwined their legs. Piero lightly
caressed a scar the man had on his side and asked:

"Did you enjoy it, Martyn?"

"Yes, very much. I judged you right. Would you stay here with me while you
are in Florence?"

"But... and he?"

"No problem. But you? I can bring you to school, each time..."

"I would like it..."

"So you too want to be here, with me."

"You are a splendid guy, in every sense..." Piero answered, then, with a
conscience, but without withdrawing his fingers from the scar, he asked:
"Does it trouble you if I caress you here?"

"Not at all."

"How... would you tell me?"

"Yes. I was seventeen. My parents and I fled Hungary. We were in Florence
for six months. We were enjoying the freedom, we thought we were safe. But
my father was a scientist and he knew important secrets. They found us. We
ran away; it was night. They chased us. They fired with a gun machine. My
father was hit, the car turned over down the slope, onto the fields. I was
thrown out of the car. The car burned, my father and my mother... inside. I
had fallen on an iron stake and remained there, pierced like an insect in
an entomologist's collection. They believed I was dead and left, anyway
they were not interested in me.

Andrea was on his way back home, after work. He saw the flames and stopped.
Then he saw me: I had lost consciousness but he understood I was still
alive. He didn't dare touch me, afraid to do me harm. He run downtown to
give the alarm, to seek a rescue party. He was back with police, firemen
and ambulances: he had moved half the town. They brought me to the
hospital. I remained suspended between death and life for nineteen days.

When I recovered consciousness, the first thing I saw was Andrea's face,
who said to me something, at first in Italian, then in English. Welcome
back, he said. After that, I knew he came to watch at my bedsides every
day, as soon as he was free from work, and that he was near me every
night. When the hospital discharged me, he brought me here to his villa for
convalescence. The doctors said that I owed him my life. If I had remained
there just one hour more, they could have done nothing for me.

After two months I was his guest, I understood Andrea was gay. I too was
gay, I am gay. And I liked Andrea a lot, I was terribly attracted by
him. But I couldn't understand if he was attracted by me. I wanted to be
his boy, but I didn't know how. Did I just tell him: I know you are gay and
I too am, and I want to be yours. But he answered: I don't want to be paid
back, it's not that the reason I brought you here. And I said: I know. But
don't you desire me? Yes, he answers, but... There is no but, then, I said,
I want to be yours. So, at the end, he surrendered to me. And it has been
really wonderful, because I felt he was in love with me. And here I am."

"In bed with me..." Piero said, and at once he bit his tongue for these
inappropriate words.

Martyn didn't get upset. He just smiled and said: "But I love him, just
him. I like being here with you, really. But I love just him. If he says
go, I go. If he says come, I come. If he says I don't want you to be with
other men, I will never, ever, be with other men, absolutely. He is all to
me. But one day he said to me: I'm becoming old, Martyn, but you are still
so young. You must have others, beside me. At first I just said no, no
way. But he insisted, and I understood that he would be happier if I
followed his advice. So I accepted and he built this place for me and
furnished it for my adventures. I accepted it to please him, believe
me. Even if I can't deny that it is pleasurable for me."

"Sorry, I didn't have the right to say those words." Piero said.

"Why not? It isn't easy, for someone from outside, to understand our
relationship, I know. But now, let's sleep. Tomorrow you have to go work."

The period Piero spent with Martyn was really beautiful. He visited the
villa and the estate, that Martyn actually ran and managed.  This was a
full time job. A far cry from being a gigolo, as he had said!  The last
day, he also met Andrea. All three had dinner in the villa and Piero was
fascinated by the notary. Andrea was a handsome mature man, refined,
elegant, a real gentleman. But above all was full of personality and
humanity. That same night Piero said to Martyn:

"Your man, is a splendid person!"

"Isn't he?" the other answered, his voice filled with pride.

The following morning, Piero said farewell to Martyn, who had accompanied
him to the station, then gave him his picture:

"Don't forget me, even if we will never meet again." he said with
simplicity.

"Impossible, even if we never meet again." Piero answered.

He felt the impulse to embrace him there, in front of everybody, but
restrained himself, afraid to embarrass him.  Then, he put his hand in his
pocket, pulled out a key holder he always had with him, with a little jade
Buddha as a pendant:

"Take this, it is my lucky charm. I had it with me for years... it's your,
if you want it."

"Thank you. I'll always have it with me.  Farewell.  Forever."

Piero watched him leave and saw that he was fixing the little Buddha to his
house keys and was happy. Martyn didn't turn back to wave at him. Piero
then got on the coach and waited for the train departure.