Date: Sat, 20 Mar 2004 04:33:15 +0100
From: Adrie van Dijk <ganymedes62@hotmail.com>
Subject: Passing through Stone Chapter 1

The following story is fictional. Any similarity with actual events and
persons is purely accidental and unintentional. The central theme of the
story is the relationship between an adult male and a teenage boy. If you
don't like such stories or if you're not allowed to read them, please exit
this page.

I would like to hear your thoughts on the story, and I will try to answer
all e-mails I get.  If you like this story, you might also like "Lashes of
Love", which can also be found on Nifty in the Adult-Youth section.

Passing through Stone

Chapter 1.

I always wanted to have a boy of my own. No, not a son, but a boy I could
share my life and my bed with. I was relatively young when I found out that
I really liked boys, about 17 or 18. I wasn't interested in girls, women or
men, but boys, they were something completely different. I dreamed about
boy singers, boy actors and neighbourhood boys; I fantasized about making
out with them. Then I turned into a workaholic, not because I wanted to,
but because it offered an escape. I had always known my chances of actually
finding a boy were very slim, now I was 46 and had more or less given up
hope.

Just a year ago I sold my ICT company and it had made me more money than I
could spend in a lifetime. At first I thought it would be fun, not having
to work anymore. I bought a large, secluded villa on a nice patch of wooded
land and occupied myself decorating it. Being in the countryside was
strange as I had lived in the city all my life. Soon I started to regret
having sold my apartment in Amsterdam.

I had been getting restless, but I had a plan: I was going to catch up on
the holidays that I had always wanted to take, but never got around to. For
my first destination I had decided on a trip around the US. It would allow
me to visit some friends I had there and see some of the more famous sights
with my own eyes. The trip was nice and lasted just a little under seven
weeks. While visiting my friends it quickly became clear to me that the US
wasn't a country that I would like to live in. The overall attitude towards
homosexuality in general and boylove in particular was repressive, to put
it mildly. It was a shame to see how many people were willing to let some
church do the thinking for them.

Back home I relaxed a bit, then started planning my next project, visiting
some of the old European capital cities. I had devised a schedule that
would let me visit a city for two weeks, then spend one week back home, go
to the next city for two weeks and so on. Literature, art and history had
always been my three favourite subjects and Paris, the first city on my
list, offered plenty of it. My hotel choice, the Paris Marriott on the
Avenue des Champs-Elysees, was a great starting point and I was able to
visit pretty much everything I had wanted to.

Next city on my list was Rome and there I decided to stay at the Rome
Marriott Grand Hotel Flora. With the help of a friend who lived there I
managed to visit all the major and minor sights the eternal city had to
offer. By now I really started to enjoy myself, seeing great works of art
and architecture and visiting those special places where history had been
made. Somehow I managed to get a new perspective on life; I learned to
simply enjoy the little things. After Rome came Vienna, Prague, Budapest,
Bucharest and then my life turned upside down.

I arrived at Bucharest Otopeni Airport on Monday September 20th at 2.30 pm
and took a cab to the hotel. By now I had become a regular at the Marriott
hotels so I was able to check-in fast and got to my room in no time. I
decided not to go out any more and instead enjoyed a relaxed evening,
swimming a few laps in the pool before dinner, and then turning in early.

The next morning after breakfast I made my way to the National Art Museum,
which was less than 2 kilometres from the hotel. The weather was nice and I
enjoyed my walk over to the museum in the morning sun. I was caught off
guard when near the museum I was approached by a little girl, probably not
older than 7, stretching out her hand. The idea of children living on the
streets, that have to beg to eat, was totally alien to me and at first I
ignored her, like everyone around me seemed to do. But after a few steps I
stopped and turned around to look at the little girl. I felt guilty about
ignoring her, so I walked back and gave her all the small change I had on
me, then quickly, without looking back, made my way to the museum entrance
and went in.

Going through the museum I was able to put the image of the little girl out
of my mind. The thought that she at least would probably eat today helped a
bit there. The museum, located in the former Royal Palace, was quite big
and the collection was impressive. As usual I wandered around and lost
track of time, until my stomach told me that it would be a good idea to get
some lunch.  When I left the museum I was relieved to see the little girl
had gone and I quickly made my way back to the hotel, where I had a small
lunch.

The afternoon had been set aside for souvenir hunting and that's just what
I did.  I loved going through little shops and finding pretty things for
myself, friends or relatives. When I had picked up a few goodies I saw a
nice looking little park with a few benches that looked very inviting to me
at that moment. I walked over and into the little park, and there, sitting
on a bench, I spotted him, the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. Blond
hair, a delicate, almost chiselled face, a greenish t-shirt that looked a
size too small, a pair of faded jeans and sneakers that surely had seen
better days. I was amazed at the amount of detail that I seemed to be able
to see.

He got up from the bench and walked over, looking at me inquisitively. Just
then I realized I had stopped dead in my tracks and probably had been
gawking at him for some time. When he saw the bags I held in my hands his
face seemed to lighten up and I got the biggest smile I ever saw. It made
my heart melt and it felt like my respiratory system had gone on strike.

"You tourist, yes?" I heard him ask in a voice that sounded as clear as
crystal, despite the accent. I only nodded as I wasn't sure I would be able
to make a sound if I opened my mouth.

"You need guide. Me good guide, very cheap too, only 1 million Lei per
day."

I considered his offer and regained control of my breathing and my voice.

"Why would I need a guide?"

"I know all tourist places. I know all good restaurants and shops too. Also
I keep you safe, make sure beggars don't steal your money. Beggars very
bad, they very big thieves."

His face had become serious and I didn't know if he meant what he said or
if he was giving me a sales pitch. I looked into his soft, light brown eyes
but couldn't find a hint of malice there. He had shown initiative and I
liked that, but could he be trusted? He looked like a street kid himself
and probably was. What if he was setting me up and I would end up lying in
one of the many alleys, beat up or dead? It could also be he was just
perfectly honest with me and wanted to work for his money.

The myriad of possible reasons for his offer flashed through my head in an
instant. Then I decided to take a gamble.

"OK, you're hired," I said, while he still looked at me seriously and
expectantly. Immediately his big smile reappeared. I felt something stir in
my trousers and my heart must have skipped a few beats.

"Oh, thank you sir. You come and sit there. It is clean, you can rest."

He guided me to the bench he had previously occupied. I sat down and he
came to sit next to me.

"I'll be going to my hotel soon and stay there for this evening," I said,
taking in his beauty.

"Yes sir, no problem. I walk with you and be your good guide tomorrow."

His English was accented and funny, but I was still impressed. Almost
certainly being a street kid, he must have picked it up somehow. The way he
had talked and behaved showed that beyond his mere good looks there was
also intelligence, frankness and pride. It could be my imagination and I
sure was biased, but that was my first impression.

"So what should I call you? What is your name?"

"My name is Borislav, but Boris is better, shorter," he replied and the
clarity of his voice almost made me shudder.

"OK, Boris. I just got here yesterday and saw the National Art Museum at
the Palace today. I have another 12 days here to see everything else. Will
that be enough?"

"Yes sir. I make sure you see all the best things. I can also tell you much
if you have questions."

I told him about the museums I had put on my visiting list and he seemed a
bit surprised that I had done my homework. He assured me he knew where each
of the museums was and told me about a few ones I hadn't heard of before.
Then I decided it was time for me to get back to the hotel and got up from
the bench.  He got up too and had picked up the bags in the blink of an
eye.

"I will carry these for you sir," he said and slowly started walking
towards the park exit. I thought about the content of the bags and knew
there was nothing in there that couldn't easily be replaced, so I decided
not to make a fuss. I followed him to the exit and then turned towards my
hotel and he stepped in beside me.  On our way back to the hotel I was
surprised that nobody seemed to notice the boy walking next to me. They
must have either been blind or totally oblivious to the concept of beauty.

When we came to the hotel entrance he stopped me and gave me the bags.

"I will go now sir. I will be there tomorrow at nine," he said, pointing at
one of the nearby lampposts. I acknowledged his statement and then he
turned away and was off. My eyes drifted after him until he rounded a
corner and was out of sight.

I went into the hotel and up to my room where I subconsciously checked the
content of the bags, everything was still there. I padded myself down and
discovered everything was still there too, even my wallet. After a shower I
went to have dinner and enjoyed a relaxed evening in one of the hotel
bars. I went up and to bed early again, but couldn't sleep. Images of Boris
kept flooding back into my mind and I wondered if I would ever see him
again. After I had taken care of the sexual tension that had been building
up in me I started to relax a bit and managed to fall into a fitful sleep.