Date: Wed, 21 Sep 2005 22:15:39 +0100 From: Mike Arram <marram@wanadoo.co.uk> Subject: Heart of Oskar Prinz - 14 The following story describes people and places wholly fictional, although based on some element of reality. How much is really up to you to decide. There is a place called Ruthenia, but it is not the Rothenia depicted here. It won't take long for the alert reader to realise that my Rothenia is unapologetically borrowed from Anthony Hope's magnificent creation of Ruritania, although updated for the twenty-first century. This is my third attempt at gay erotic fiction. The earlier ones are 'The Decent Inn' and 'Terry and the Peachers' which can be found in the Nifty archive under the College section. Excuse the self-indulgence of the crossover references, but they did amuse me. The story contains graphic depictions of sex between adult males. If the reading or possessing of such material as this is illegal in your place of residence please leave this site immediately and do not proceed further. If you are under the legal age to read this, please do not do so. XIV Oskar wasted no time. Falkefilm had offices and studios on the Rodolferplaz. Hendrik had taken the top floors of a big, art deco corner building on the east side of the great square. It was a prime site, and was good evidence to Will, even in his state of abstraction, that Hendrik Wilemmin had rather more business interests than just Falkefilm. The ground floor of Rodolferplaz 12 was organised round a superb pasacz, or arcade, of smart shops and cafés, the Lieuwen Pasacz. Huge stone art deco lions guarded the entrance, along with bored-looking security guards. 'There's a problem with shoplifters?' Will asked. 'Yes. Also we occasionally get foreign gay men obsessional about Falkefilm boys. Despite Hendrik's precautions they track down his offices and camp in the pasacz cafés, accosting the new models and frightening them. Hendrik has ways of moving them on. The security guard tips him off when they turn up.' 'You're kidding?' 'I'm afraid not. Sexuality does some weird things to people. Then there are the persistent Rothenian boys who desperately want to be taken on. The unsuitable ones don't always take no for an answer; you'd be surprised. Here we are.' Oskar led Will to a big glazed door giving access to a lift, next to which was embossed a column of business plaques. Floor 4 was announced to be the offices of Wilemmin IC Inc, with a list of subsidiaries, including the prominent sign 'Falkemodel'. A handwritten card that was taped next to it said blandly 'Casting Agenciaj'. Oskar and Will took the lift. Oskar cheerfully greeted the attractive receptionist, with whom he was clearly a favourite. Framed and tasteful photos of Falkefilm boy models covered one wall. The one of Oskar was particularly fine. Everything in the reception area was deliberately plush, and a couple of Rothenian boys were already sitting nervously in the leather armchairs, as impressed by the ambience as they were meant to be. Will too was nervous, although not for that reason. But he looked the boys over. They were about eighteen, well muscled and good-looking enough, although their eyes seemed a bit lacking in brightness. Drugs or simply brainlessness, he wondered. Oskar looked them over diffidently and whispered into Will's ear that they sometimes auditioned twenty there in a week. 'It's almost chic for a good looking boy in Strelzen to get a shoot at Falkemodel. News gets round, and there are a surprising number of uninhibited gay and straight boys who do it just for the thrill. Only a percentage get taken on for the filming. Hendrik sees almost all of them, so you're not getting any special treatment. He has a remarkable instinct for the sort of boy who's got it and will lay it out.' Will got up and looked out through the big windows down on to Rodolferplaz. Immediately opposite was the enormous central fountain erected by King Ferdinand, a gift from his Italian relatives in Modena. Water spouted and tumbled down out of a mass of involved Classical sculpture, and he could hear its splashing even through the double glazing. The cross streets of the busy square were full of trams and cars. Rothenian workers were beginning to go out for lunch, and foreign tourists swarmed the pavements and wandered the open central areas, guide books in hand. It was all so normal, and what he was about to do was so very abnormal. The phone burred, and the receptionist nodded at Will. 'Mr Wilemmin will see you now.' He was directed down a carpeted corridor to the corner room of the fourth floor. Oskar had taken up a seat in the reception area, and was being frankly eyed up by the other new boys. He ignored them. Will knocked at the door, and entered without waiting to be asked. Hendrik was already on his feet, his back to the big windows that would look down onto the square and the cross street, had not the vertical blinds been drawn. Will shook the proferred hand, and took the proferred seat. Hendrik looked him over in a frankly appraising way, and lit a cigarette. He did not offer one to Will. 'I imagine Oskar has told you what I have planned.' He talked in his American accented English. Will nodded. 'I don't suppose you have any experience in this sort of business?' Will shook his head, words were difficult to get out. 'I thought not. But we don't expect too much acting talent from our boys.' Hendrik moved around his desk. 'To me you look a natural. Don't ask me how I know, but you have a camera face. I need to see your body too.' Will gulped. But he was ready for the request, he stripped naked, staying in his seat. He had worn cargo pants and a tee shirt. He had trainers but no socks, and Oskar had told him to forget about underpants. Hendrik looked down at him coolly. 'Get yourself erect.' Will obediently wanked himself till he got a partial response. He jumped as Hendrik moved over, leaned down, manhandled his balls, gripped his penis and manipulated it fully erect, leaving Will gasping. He took his time about it. Then he moved back, looked at the result and smiled in a surprisingly kind way. 'You'll do, kid. I think you'll do good. I would even go so far as to say you are hot. Get yourself dressed.' Will hastened to obey. As he was lacing his trainers back up, Hendrik sat back on his desk and said, 'You're not American unfortunately. We could dub your voice, though I'd rather not, it never looks or sounds right and it is very expensive. Can you do the accent?' Will knew he could do something that closely resembled a New England seaboard twang, as he had shared a flat with a Bostonian year abroad student in his second year. He demonstrated. Hendrik laughed, 'That's really good, Jason!' 'Jason?' 'You're Jason Williams, Falkefilm's latest signing and bottom boy, and the first westerner on our books. You'll get a lot of interest. Welcome to the Falkefilm family.' 'Er, thanks.' 'You sign an exclusive contract with me. I guarantee you at least two shoots and a modelling session. Normally there would be coaching sessions and try outs, but we're in a hurry and you have after all been sleeping with Oskar, who is a master in the art of public gay sex. Most of our boys have very little experience when they come to us, you may be surprised to hear, but we will take a chance with you. So most of those preliminaries we will pass. The money Oskar will have mentioned. We pay on the nail in cash. The modelling session for the website happens today. You know that I have a project in mind that I want you to star in with Oskar, but that doesn't happen till after your audition tape, which you'll do tomorrow. I want the audition in the can to add as an extra to the "American in Strelzen" disk. Also it will go out on Rothenian Boys 11. You'll get a lot of exposure.' Great, thought Will, exactly what I want. He took the pen and signed on the dotted line, resisting the temptation to sign it as Jason Williams. Then he stood and took Hendrik's hand, shaking it in the formal Rothenian way. Will stumbled out and back down the corridor, he slumped next to Oskar, 'He wanked my dick,' he hissed. Oskar looked surprised. 'He doesn't usually, he must like you.' 'Huh!' Will sniffed, and then softened, 'I'm glad you're here,' he added pathetically He didn't see the tears start in Oskar's eyes. 'What now?' Oskar said, 'We go out and have a sandwich, until Bolslaw is ready for you. He's the best of the stills photographers. I'll come in with you.' They went back down to the Lieuwen Pasacz, and found a dark café bar at its far end, where the pasacz opened on to a narrow back street. 'This is where Falkefilm guys usually go. It's not as expensive as the tourist places nearer the square.' Will believed him; the décor, the small huddled groups of Rothenians and the untranslated Rothenian menu would be offputting to westerners. They were there for an hour, taking their time over a coffee and baguette. Will's nerves were growing rather than otherwise. Oskar told him about Bolslaw and modelling. When they got back up to the fourth floor, only one of the two try-out boys was left. The other must have been turned down. The survivor introduced himself as Fridric, a PE teaching student from Zelden. They did the handshake and Will chatted nicely with him, finding him an open and friendly kid, although no big shakes intellectually. Fridric was still puzzling about what part of Rothenia Will's accent betrayed when Bolslaw, a bald fat man in a tight tee shirt, arrived heaving a big aluminium camera box. Bolslaw led the way through a side door and up some stairs to a bright loft space above the square, with tall studio windows. It was heavily curtained and hung with a variety of fabrics, with camera gear and lights every where. A space had been cleared in front of a white screen, the floor spread with rich fabrics and mats. Oskar caught his eyes, and Will took centre stage. Bolslaw spent a while looking him over and turning him from side to side. Then he took up a camera and told Will to lose the trainers. He took a lot of shots of Will standing, squatting, sitting, kneeling, and cross legged, saying things like 'Cheeky Grin!', 'Shy smile!' 'Pout!' 'Seductive', 'Romantic now!'. Will did his best. 'Seductive' was the hardest. He caught the expression on Oskar's face, and laughed out loud. Bolslaw swore. Will apologised and then looked back at Oskar, trying to invite him to have sex with him with his eyes. 'Fantastic!' shouted Bolslaw, 'I've just come in my pants!' He went through the same expressions with gradually less and less clothes. Soon he was naked. He didn't have time to feel embarrassed, even when Fridric came in and started posing for another cameraman opposite. He found an erection no problem with Oskar standing behind Bolslaw. The poses now got more erotic and explicit, and he had a few to pose of his anus, pulling back his own cheeks, he even had to insert a finger. Surprisingly, he did it without a second thought: what sort of man am I become? he asked himself. 'OK,' said Bolslaw, 'kneel down and do the cum shot.' 'What!' 'Bring yourself off,' Will hit the buffer. 'I ... I can't, not just like that, not here.' He was distraught. Oskar noticed and whispered in Bolslaw's ear. He grumbled and grunted. Oskar swarmed out of his own clothes and placed himself in the posing place. With Oskar there naked with him, an internal barrier crashed down inside Will, and he felt a whole new area of his character opening out. He could do public sex if it was with this boy. Oskar started orchestrating Will very professionally in a number of joint erotic poses. They smiled shyly at each other and Will began to enjoy himself. 'Oh my God!' shouted Bolslaw over the snap and whirr of his camera, 'This is the best.' As Oskar and he stood facing the camera with their erect penises held in Oskar's hand, he leaned in to kiss Will, and soon the kiss became abandon. They lost the sound of everything around them. When they surfaced, all they saw was astonished faces staring at them. 'Man,' said a naked and erect Fridric, 'do I want a piece of that!' Oskar smiled in Will's face. 'OK,' he whispered, 'the cum shot.' Will knelt down, faced Bolslaw's camera, and easily obliged with six copious jets up onto his chest. He forgot the camera was recording it. As he was dressing, Bolslaw ruffled his dark head, and kissed it. 'Boy, you've really got it. Want to see the previews?' They went over to the computer desk and waited for the downloads. Oskar stood behind him and gripped Will's shoulder hard as shot after shot appeared. A darkly handsome and erotic boy, who was surely not him, was there, shyly but shamelessly making love to the camera. But it was him, for the same boy also stood there, solidly muscled and toned, posing with another solidly muscled boy who was Oskar. Their kissing was distilled passion. The looks they gave each other were an incitement to riot. But the best shot, Will thought, was simply the one where he sat alone, naked and erect on a rug, his legs in front of him crossed at the ankles, laughing at an invisible Oskar behind the camera. Innocence, Love and Shamelessness met in one beautiful body. 'Christ, the boss has to see these; the camera loves you, kid,' Bolslaw muttered. 'Pity about your skin tone. But a bit of screening will help. Go get some sun.' 'So Jason,' said Oskar with a quirky grin, 'welcome to the Falkefilm family.' 'Dinner is on you, Marc you bastard, for getting me into this.' Oskar looked serious, 'My Will. I've not forgotten your sacrifice, but I do recognise in you what is in me, you have the recklessness and shamelessness. You got a buzz from it, I think, the same way I have to admit that I do. I am a born whore, and there is a whore in you too. You liked what we were doing. It is what attracted me to you when I first saw you.' 'What, it was obvious in the dark, under the tree in Lindenstrasse.' Oskar looked briefly confused, 'No I mean in my hall, when you fainted.' 'I faint wantonly?' 'You know what I mean.' 'Er yes, I guess.' Will shrugged. They left the lift and exited Rodolferplaz 12 by way of the pasacz. Will insisted on getting a tram to Bila Palaz and a return to the library. He had not forgotten their commission for Matt despite the distracting things happening elsewhere. In the evening, they sat in the apartment, trying to calm Will's nerves. But they would not be calmed. He got up and paced the living room, Marietta following him sympathetically with her eyes. In the end he sat on Oskar's knee and put his arm round his shoulder. 'So tell me – I think I have a right to ask – what was your first time like in front of the cameras.' Oskar gave a lop sided smile. 'I was as nervous as you, more so maybe, as I had little idea what was coming. Hendrik has this system that takes you through stages to break down your inhibitions, gay or not. First he gets you to undress for the still shots. It gets you used to being naked in front of other men. The second session is private tutoring with older models, who open up your ass and coach you in oral sex. At the end of that session, they bring in the camera for you to strip in front of, and then masturbate for, and the older guy comes in and helps you jerk off. You watch yourself on a video screen. It was ... weird.' 'And how did you feel when you did the big shoot?' Will asked. Oskar's face went dead, 'Odd. I was nineteen and I had slept with quite a few men by then. It had been easy for me to pick up other boys ... some of the soldier boys from the barracks weren't even gay, I think. They just wanted something pretty in their bed. And I liked that sort of sex, even if it was a bit amateur and always from behind. But sex with Falkefilm men was different. You couldn't do those nice gentle things you do with lovers you have chosen: stroking buttocks, hugging and kissing. It was all heavy sucking and athletic fucking, posed so the camera can see what's going on. You get trained out of the spontaneity and gentleness, and you lose the ability to be truly intimate with and excited about another man. It all becomes a pose, even the sounds of passion.' Oskar looked troubled at Will. 'I hope you don't lose that honesty and sweetness, my Will. It's what I've loved about having you in my bed. You make me a boy again, even if there's no difference in age between us.' Thursday was another day of nerves. His appointment was for mid afternoon at Falkefilm, which gave him plenty of time to be nervous. This time there would be no Oskar to hold his hand, or whatever else needed holding. But Oskar gave him a lot of advice. He said hello to the same lady receptionist, who gave him a big smile. It was the Oskar connection he guessed. After ten minutes, a cameraman he did not know came in and introduced himself, and gave him a sketch of what the audition involved. He complimented Will on his Rothenian, and also on the shots he had seen of yesterday's session. He led him up some other stairs and into a suite of furnished rooms. The lights and cameras were set up in a room with a big sofa, and cushions over the boarded floor. Will took a seat and waited. His nerves were rising and his stomach was knotted. The cameraman was setting up. Two men entered, and Will recognised Felip. So it was to be with Max Wolf, one of Falkefilm's finest. Will had watched him perform on his DVDs and he had been awestruck at the boy's looks and stamina. And now he was to perform with him. He was on the verge of feeling complimented, but he thought he caught a certain resentment in Felip's pose, and he lost the buzz. The director got them together on the sofa, and began giving his ideas as to the sequence. Dialogue was up to them, though for once it would have to be in English. But first Jason needed to introduce himself. Oskar had warned him about this, and they had amused themselves by devising a pseudo-biography for Jason, not all of which Will would have the nerve to use. Will had a hoodie from Tufts, so he was going to use it. He had put on a Redsox cap. They were told to get barefoot. The camera lights came on, the board clicked, and the director said in Rothenian-accented English: 'So Jason, tell us something about yourself.' 'Hi!' Will said in his best Bostonian, remembering not to look directly at the camera but at the director to one side. 'My name's Jason Williams and I'm from the great city of Boston in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. I was born in Lexington and I'm a junior in Tufts majoring in English Lit. I like reading James Joyce and Henry James.' 'And how do you like Rothenia, Jason?' 'I love it here in Rothenia. My grandmother was Rothenian, so it's like coming home.' 'And what do you do for fun, Jason?' 'Well, there's sex ...,' dutiful laughter from the crew, 'but my game is baseball ...' he showed a fist, 'Go Sox! Finally got there men!' He ended with a relaxed drawling laugh. It didn't matter that he was over the top. No one out there would believe the details in any case. They just had to accept he was American. 'And what do you think of our Rothenian boys, Jason?' 'A nation of babes. I can't believe it. The butts are to die for. I wish they all could be Rothenian babes, man. You just walk down the road and come in your pants.' 'And do you have a Rothenian boyfriend, Jason?' 'Yeah. He's called Oskar and he's just ... other side of glorious. Up for anything, so cool, so hot at the same time. I get a hard on just talking about him.' Will caught a raised eyebrow and a troubled glance from his co-star at the other end of the sofa. 'That's great, and you've met Max today, yes?' The camera moved back, and showed Felip grinning at Will. 'Hey, Max! How's it hanging?' he said cheerily. Then he saw what Oskar meant about Felip's woodenness. His face froze as he struggled for a response. 'Cut!' 'Again!' 'Hey Max! How's it hanging?' 'Hanging er, fine, Jason.' 'Cool, buddy.' No response. Oh come on, thought Will, this is stupid. The teacher in him took over, 'The guys here said you'll be showing this New England boy something real new, Max.' 'Er, that's the idea,' 'Well, I'm always up for a new frontier, man. What you want me to do?' The director was looking gratefully at Will by now. 'Let's get a bit more relaxed, then,' said Felip, taking off Will's cap and pulling the Tufts sweatshirt and tee shirt off in one go. He pinched a nipple hard as Will put on his trademark coyness, 'Hey, that fucking hurt!' 'Cut! Let Max lead, Jason. He's the guy in charge.' Will resumed his clothes and the scene replayed. The pinch was just as hard, but he ignored it and just shifted in his seat. Felip moved down and sucked the other nipple, giving him a little nip with his teeth. Will gave the necessary groan. Felip moved back up and did the porno kissing thing, for which Will was ready, having practised with a world expert. 'Put out your tongue,' Felip said, 'I want to suck it.' He did. And Felip was good, there was no doubt about it. But he was putting out some odd signals. A fixed salacious grin had now occupied Will's face, which in the circumstances was the best he could manage. He felt no passion for this man, beautiful though he was. Their clothes came off, and Felip opened him up with a slick black dildo for the camera, which focussed in on his preoccupied expression and on the red tunnel between his legs that was the end result. If I can do this, Will decided, then there is nothing I can't do. The set moved onward, foreplay to oral to anal to climax, in the usual Falkefilm sequence. Will knew what to do, and Oskar had coached him in resisting ejaculation during the long oral shots. He had found out another reason why porn actors kept slapping each other's butts. It distracted you from going over the top; he found himself doing it to Felip almost automatically when he had him in his mouth. Felip was good, there was no doubt. He led and controlled him well. There were not many laugh-out-loud moments, but Will did his best to inject some humour and verbal foreplay into the situation. He could tell he was fast becoming the director's favourite model. Felip was the big mystery. Will could almost have sworn that he was getting very much into him at times, and yet at other times he was distant and professional. There were some unexpected moments. He was expected to lick Felip's armpits, which took a lot for him to do. But when he did, he was suddenly struck by a trace of a familiar odour under the heavy scent of body shampoo. He just could not work out what it was. It was as Felip was finishing off, and bunny fucking him hard at the director's urging - causing him real pain but exciting the director with the noises he was making - that Felip sucked a love bite on his neck. Will threw him off. 'You fuck! Why did you do that?' Felip looked helplessly at the director. 'Calm down Jason, it happens when boys get carried away.' 'He had no business being carried away. He put a mark on me. I'm out of here.' He stood up and went for his clothes. 'Look, Jason, we'll halt it there for the fucking scenes, we can edit it, just go back and jerk off with Max.' 'Fine. But I do me, and he does himself, I don't want his hand on my dick.' 'OK. Fine.' As they took their place back on the sofa, and as the cameramen were adjusting their angles, Max surprised him again by leaning in and saying quietly, 'I'm sorry, Will. I had no business doing that ... I just couldn't stop myself. I am sorry.' 'OK then,' he replied, softening slightly. They sat side by side, wanking to ejaculation, giving each other grins a little less wooden than before. Once it was over, Will wiped up and dressed silently, but he said goodbye nicely to the crew. He looked at Felip half-inclined to ignore him, but finally he saw the sadness and – yes - heart break in Felip's face. He had loved Oskar, so much was clear, and he had lost him to Will. Will did something that surprised him, he leaned in and kissed the boy lightly on the lips. Felip was just as astonished, but he looked momentarily grateful. Will was glad it was over. At least the next time would be with Oskar. He went into the shower that Falkefilm considerately provided for its employees. But it was not over. As he was going down the stairs to the fourth floor, steps pursued him, and a fully-dressed Felip caught his shoulder. Will stopped and looked back at the handsome and troubled face looking into his. 'You really should not be doing this, Englishman,' he said. 'So you don't think I can cut it?' 'That's not what I meant. This is not your world, and you will get hurt.' 'You don't fool me, Felip. This is all about you and Oskar, isn't it?' 'Perhaps,' the boy said after a pause, 'But it's also about you. You have no idea what you are getting yourself into, no idea at all.' He released Will and returned upstairs. As he exited the pasacz on to the Rodolferplaz, Will got out his mobile and had a long conversation as he paced down towards Lindenstrasse. He flipped the lid back with a preoccupied look on his face.