Date: Wed, 16 Apr 2003 10:59:24 EDT
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: Made in Heaven, chapter 6

MADE IN HEAVEN
by Stefan
http://stefan680.tripod.com/stefanstories/index2.html


Chapter 6: I just wanna feel real love ...



Maxim's finger tips slid over Christian's exposed body. Shortly  after
Maxim had awoke, he had crawled into his arms, enveloping them
both with the bed cover and listened to Christian's steady breath.
The nights with him had become enchanting; Christian was truly
romantic, more than Maxim had ever expected or imagined.

A rosy scar led across his belly, just short of his belly button,
another over his collarbone. Slowly Maxim crawled lower and blew
a kiss on Christian's resting penis. On his legs were more scars.

Maxim studied him like a map of an unknown country. Unknown but
not foreign anymore. He stirred and Maxim cuddled quickly into his
arms again. This was their last day together in Paris and Maxim felt sad.
Last night they had spent in "Le Queen", a huge dance dome at the
Champs Elysees whose temperature was sizzling till the very morning
dawned. All of a sudden Christian had discovered his love for dance
music, much to Maxim's surprise.

Maxim remembered Christian's offer to move in with him. Certainly
it would be nice to wake up each morning together. But something
within him refused. It was too early  still he didn't know Christian well
enough. He would miss his familiar surroundings, the neighbours, friends
and the vicinity to his work place. He didn't even have a car, but maybe
Christian would leave him his own, but certainly Maxim wouldn't ask him
to do so.

Christian moved and turned to him, wrapping his arms around Maxim's
body. This closeness did him good. The sex was good too and Christian
had never cried out for Philipp again. But did this mean he didn't think
about  his ex-lover? Why was Christian so keen on having someone move
in with him? Couldn't he take care of himself?

Maxim lifted his head and glanced at the clock. Time to get up. He
gently touched Christian's arm, pulled him over on to his back and
tickled him.

Christian woke up with a gasp, giggled and avoided Maxim's hands.  "Ok, ok,
I'm awake...I'm awake! Stop it." He rolled out of the bed and jumped to his
feet, his semi-hard penis dangling very invitingly between his thighs.
"I'll be late for the final meeting," he said, rubbing his eyes, but Maxim
had pulled him close, touching the rosy scar over his belly button.
Christian flinched.

  "Does it hurt?" Maxim asked.

  "No. It doesn't hurt", Christian said softly. Just the memory. The monotone
humming of the motor beneath him. With the speed he broke the
walls of his consciousness. He closed his eyes and saw a huge sun
sink over the wavering, red asphalt and he was speeding directly into it.

He wasn't dead because death shall have no dominion. He had felt
himself lying on the hard, wet earth - on his back and spread-eagled. He
had tried to keep his eyes open and stared at the glassy West moon in
the cloud-torn sky. Its pale shimmer mirrored itself upon his arms and feet;
a cemetery shimmer smiling at him through a puddle of black blood. Now
that was the truth when you die upon the hard, wet earth: lovers had fallen,
but love shall not. He had sensed it. The world would turn on even if it was
one love lost.

  "Your motorbike accident?" he heard Maxim's voice from afar.

  "Yes." One of them. The handlebars of the motorbike had ripped
his stomach and he had ruptured and lost his spleen. Death had been
close indeed.

  "I'm sorry."

Christian wondered if Maxim was repelled by all his scars. But he
felt drawn even nearer, while Maxim glided his palms over his buns and
started to kiss him from the scar down into his pubic hair and the still half-
hard penis. He cupped his firm ball-sack and licked the shaft above, played
with his foreskin, grazing it softly with his teeth. Christian let it happen and
closed his eyes. In his mind appeared pictures of Philipp but they were
overlaid very soon by Maxim's face and his body he longed for.


He WAS late indeed for the final meeting and received a suggestive
remark from Sonja. Christian grinned. "You've a dirty fantasy, my dear."

  "I know everything about it is true," Sonja grinned back. "We'll
celebrate later the conclusion of the agreement. Will you bring Maxim?"

Christian shook his head. From former experiences he knew that it
wasn't a good idea to reveal his "abnormality." Not every customer was
open minded enough not to care.

  "What happened with Philipp?" Sonja asked later when the drink
was over and they strolled together through the Champs Elysees in
search of souvenirs.

Jesus, how many more people would ask him this, was Christian's
initial thought but then, they had a right to ask questions. Christian and
Philipp - that had been a pair not imaginable to be apart. Their relationship
had worked well, what had gone wrong then?

  "What had gone wrong with both of you?" Sonja insisted. "And why
have you replaced him so fast?" Sonja took a place at a small table outside
a café and pulled Christian beside her. She placed her bag with the
advertisement of Hermes on an empty seat. Christian knew her teenage
daughter and that she would expect a gift from Paris, the more expensive
the better.


  "What brought you and Arthur apart?" he answered with another
question. "The same old things. You drift apart, you don't talk with
each other, you don't know what's going on in the head of the other. And
then there's a point when you don't bother anymore with what's going on
in the life, head, and heart of the other."

Sonja nodded briefly. "I thought gays would be different." She smiled
a little uncertain. "You know, cling to. More aware of what they are
doing, afraid to lose the partner. There isn't such a choice as for us."

  "I know. But what's the use of clinging when it doesn't work in
the end. Better to live alone than to make compromises."

  "Oh, darling," Sonja called out. "Love doesn't work without
making compromises. Do you fancy a yes-sayer? Someone who idolizes
you no matter what you're doing?" She interrupted herself because the
waiter had arrived.

Christian watched her from aside. What was wrong with idolizing? As
long as HE was the object of the idolization? No, Christian - he shook
his head inwardly - that's over the top. Philipp hadn't idolized you, he
just didn't express his own wishes and was satisfied with the things
Christian had planned for both. Right?

  "Philipp and I had the same wavelength," he said when the waiter
had gone. "Liking the same things doesn't mean one of the partners is
giving up his own interests. It was only per chance that we appeared to
always do the same."

Sonja nodded not very convinced. Perhaps the new situation was good
for Philipp. "And this Maxim? Does he share your interests, your ideas,
your likings, your thoughts?"

Christian had the queasy feeling that Sonja was pulling his leg. Or
exactly: she probed his mind. Good that the ice coffee arrived and
the ice cup for Sonja. "To the agreement" he said, not answering
Sonja's questions.

  "There's a lot of work coming up," she said, smiling and eyeing
him from aside.

                               * * * * * *

The Seine was blue-grey and sparkled with tiny, golden splinters.
Maxim stood at the railing and looked over to Notre-Dame. It had
become his favourite place - albeit he might find another when he
had seen everything that Paris had to offer. "Each American author
will sometime come to Paris," he remembered a quote from a film. "You
live on the left bank of the Seine; you go along RueMargot and reach
the river; see Notre-Dame to the right hand and the Ile St. Louis. Cool
breezes blowing, you fill your lungs ... and you are ... inspired. You can
do everything." [*]

Tim, as an author, would really like this, perhaps he would find new
inspiration here with a croissant and a glass of red wine watching the
Clochards and mourning the big covered market - the belly of Paris - now
torn down. Maxim laughed about himself. What an all too romantic sight.
The Paris of the Bohemian was dead. The Paris of Emile Zola's
"L'Assommoir", the pubs where anis liqueur made it's round, or
absinth, "the green fairy." The time of the Fien de Siecle and of Art
Noveau, the lascivious times in the painter's workshops, Toulouse-Lautrec
at Moulin Rouge, painting the girls dancing Can-Can.

Maxim looked to the island, Seine-washed around. The hunchback, the
grotesque gargoyles, the facade's stony lace. He had read that the church
had been plundered during the French Revolution. Statues and monuments
had been shattered and thrown to the ground from high above; the complete
interiors had been destroyed and the church was then a pagan temple to
celebrate the folk's free spirit. What a barbaric drama. A few meters afar
stood Sainte Chapelle that housed the most precious thing Holy King Louis
had brought from his crusade: Jesus' crown of thorns. He wondered what
happened to the crown, no travel guide could tell him.

Maxim leaned his elbows on the railing. Tim would really like all
those stories, he was sure. He remembered a chapter of his novel he had
just finished. A woman wishing for endless beauty. She was still beautiful
when she had died of cancer. Another one had wished for everlasting
happiness. The fairy godmother had said this would be a wide range and
she didn't know how to specify it.

"Happiness?" she had squeaked. "How do you define happiness?"

"To be satisfied with the Status Quo," he had answered.

"Satisfaction means stagnation," she had said. But in the end she had
granted the wish. "Be always happy with the Status Quo. And this time
there's no wish following the first one," she had muttered under her breath.
"Lucky you." Although she rather looked as if she felt pity for the man.

He had led a relatively good marriage, but from one minute to the
other he lost everything: His wife wanted divorce and took her daughter,
he had adopted years ago, with her. He didn't feel real pain for his wish
protected him from being unhappy. Then he lost his job. Again no problem.
He was happy and didn't care if he had money enough to eat or to pay the
rent for his flat. After some time he didn't even care if he was dressed or
shaven and spent his  days in bed, happy with the Status Quo. When the
income support stopped because he didn't want to work anymore, he moved
to a park bench and lived a happy life among kindred spirits. He saw his
daughter when he begged for money, but she didn't recognize him. He didn't
bother anymore anyway. Happiness had become stagnation as the fairy
godmother had prophesied. He was now stuck in a poor lifestyle,
without money, without flat, without work, but with lots of friends.
The community of beggars, homeless, alcoholics and drug abusers was
something special. He found there a mutual spirit and friendship he had
never found before and he was happy.

Maxim wasn't sure what Tim wanted to say with this. Perhaps that even
the most unexpected and unlucky things can turn into something good.
Although he didn't see the point of being happy to live under a bridge
and catch a cold that would kill you.

He was thrilled to learn which part of the novel Tim had chosen to
read at the bookshop next week. Surely it would be a part without too
much sex. Perhaps the last one, there wasn't any sex at all.

Silently he said goodbye to Paris while still standing at the embankment,
watching the ships and boats, the passengers, the light and enjoyed even
the fishy smell. Perhaps he would come back. But there was so much to see
still. He had never been to Italy or Spain. Or Greece. How exciting that all
these things were possible now for him. At home, back in Russia he had
just dreamt of this while he yearningly looked over the Volga to its invisible
other shore. Surely he had felt like the last gawk when he and his parents
had come to Germany. But it hadn't meant that he had lived in a tree house
and would still eat with his fingers, as some of the Germans seemed to think.
Education was good, even in a Russian village, and Maxim was proud of that.

A soft wind blew his hair when he turned and started to walk back to the
hotel. Too bad Christian hadn't the time to stroll through Paris with him.
But he had the feeling that he wasn't really interested in sightseeing,
while history was the most exciting thing Maxim could imagine. If the
stones and trees could speak to him they would tell him the most
interesting stories. Perhaps he would tell Christian some of them.

                                       * * * * * *

"Home at last," Maxim thought when he turned the key in the lock
and opened the door to his flat. Berlin was sweltering hot, so he rushed
through the rooms and opened each window and the door to the balcony.
Then he opened his suitcase and gathered all the presents around him on
the carpet. The gift from Christian - a watch from Lalique - he placed
separately. He still couldn't believe that Christian had given him such an
expensive gift. Cautiously he opened the black cover and looked at it. It
was square with etched jungle decorations in midnight blue and silver;
the strap of the softest blue leather. He supposed it would run with rubies
and diamonds. Maxim had never possessed such precious things and he
felt awkward. Had Christian wanted to buy his love with it? Hadn't he told
him again that he loved him? But how could this be after such a short time.
Christian didn't know what he was saying, he didn't comprehend the
deep meaning of his words. Or he told this carelessly to each man he
liked.

Then Maxim shook off these thoughts. He took the parcels and rang at
his neighbour's door. Instantly Joost opened, beaming from ear to ear.
"Bonjour Maxim," he shouted, pulling Maxim through the door.

  "Coco was pretty unhappy. He refused to eat for awhile."

  "What?" Oh gosh, where was he? Then he saw the stark white fur
gleaming at the end of the hall. Maxim rushed to him, but Coco jumped
back, into the living room and sat in front of the TV, his tail elegantly
draped around his body.

  "He's in a huff!" Maxim said laughing.

  "Surely he is," Rainer said, bending down and taking the cat up.
"You left him alone too long."

  "Cats!" all three sighed in unison before they started to laugh.
"How was Paris, my dear? You look good; recovered."

Joost's cajal-framed eyes examined him carefully. He wore a soft falling
suit in Marlene-Dietrich-style and had his finger nails already varnished.
Probably he was about to go out.

  "It was great," Maxim said, eyeing his cat that still refused to
look at him. "Here, a souvenir d'Paris," he smiled, handing out the
parcels. "I would have liked to buy you a scarf from Hermes, Joost,
but it really was too expensive for me."

  "Oh, darling," Joost said genuinely pleased when he opened the
box with the chocolate orange pieces. "You didn't think I would have
taken this then, do you? If I need a scarf from Hermes, I'll go to
Friedrichstrasse and buy it there." He looked up and smiled. "Do you
think this goes well with my diet?"

Maxim laughed. "You sound like my colleague. Oh, before I forget, he
will be reading next week in my bookshop from his novel, it would be
nice if you both could come." He hoped that Joost wouldn't have to
perform on stage then. Rainer looked through the schedule and said
after a while it would be possible.

Coco sniffed the chocolate pieces and Joost put a tiny one of them into
his mouth. But Coco spat it back into Joost's palm. "Good, now it's all
mine," Joost grinned and pressed the cat into Maxim's arms. It was
good to feel his warmth again. Coco snuggled his head at Maxim's
neck and he knew that everything was okay.

With the cat in his arms he went back later. Maxim was sure that Joost
and Rainer had inhibitions with Christian and they wouldn't tell why.
Coco though took possession of his rooms again and sat down then
expectantly beside his feeding bowl. Maxim opened a tin and spooned
the contents into the bowl.

>From the balcony sounded music, obviously coming from his neighbour's
flat. A melancholy melody, though pointed in its structure, intonated
by a deep voice.

"Der Wind hat mir ein Lied erzählt..." Maxim couldn't figure out if it
was Zarah or Joost's husky voice, but he listened involuntarily,
crouched beside Coco's bowl, still holding the tin in his hand.

  "^Ĺ The wind has told me a song
  about a happiness, unspeakable great.
  It knows what my heart is missing,
  for whom it beats and glows...
  it knows for whom^Ĺ"

Maxim smiled. Right now his heart beat certainly for Christian. After
all a dream had come true he had dreamt for a year long. But everyone
of his friends seemed to be reserved. Well, Tim was just jealous he
supposed, and Nadine thought perhaps she would lose a friend.

He fondled Coco's neck and learned that Coco had picked out some
meat crumbs from his bowl and played with it instead of eating them.
Then eventually he decided to finish his meal and looked up at
Maxim. He wondered each time about the depth of this look. It was
soulful, as if he wanted to tell him important things. Maxim took him
up and searched in his CD collection for Elvis. He chose his gospel
songs and leaned back in the sofa. Zarah Leander's song had
stopped and Elvis' sonorous, black voice replaced it.

Maxim knew his parents expected a call but he wasn't in the mood
to talk. The cat seemed to sleep and Maxim examined his room.
Christian had renewed his offer to move in with him, but still Maxim
couldn't decide what to do. The bigger part of him longed to be with
Christian. What was he doing right now? Thinking of him?

Cautiously and without disturbing the cat he opened a box with
Toulouse' Violets Christian had given him, and tried one of the little
candied flowers. All this sudden abundance, he thought. What
would they say when they'd see his new watch? Would they think
that Christian showered him with disproportionately expensive
presents? And what would come next?

Coco sneezed and sniffed then at the open box of violets.
Disinterested he closed his eyes again. "Would you like to move,
sweetie?" Maxim asked him. Coco said nothing, he only opened his
eyes again and looked questioning. "I haven't seen it yet, but what if
I'd like it? Last time you were not pleased to see him, do you think you
could start to like him?"

Coco blinked conspiratorially. "Do it for me, please." Coco started
to purr.


The next morning the daily routine was back. The sun, despite the
early morning hour, was hot when he stepped out on the balcony
with a coffee mug in hand. The hibiscus was about to open its big
pink flowers. Maxim took the watering can, when his phone rang.

  "I miss you," he heard Christian's voice in his ear. "I wished
you wouldn't have to work today." He paused to give Maxim time to
say something but his throat was suddenly closed up tight. "I'd like
to say thank you for a couple of wonderful days. Would you do me
the favour and go out with me tonight?"

Geez, Christian sounded so formal, as if he was doing a proposal in
front of Maxim's parents, Maxim grinned to himself. "I too enjoyed
the days," he finally managed to say, "sure, I'd like to go out with
you. Whereto?"

  "Surprise," Christian said mysteriously. "I'll pick you up around 9
P.M. No jeans, please, ok? I love you."

He had hung up. Maxim stared at the receiver. Hmm. Then he started
to rush through the flat, gathered the gifts for his colleagues, blew
Coco a kiss and closed the door behind himself.

"Prinz Eisenherz" was a jumble when he arrived. Somebody had taken
Tim's photo for he was looking from each wall with a stern expression,
though a bright  twinkle in his eyes. Maxim loved it very much. He
also had seen the poster hanging at the front door, announcing Tim's
reading for next Tuesday. Too bad that his novel wasn't published so
he could sell it.  Luan nodded at him from a distance and came closer.
"Hi Maxim, you were greatly missed,  he said. He only reached to
Maxim's nose. "So, why? I see I missed the preparations for Tim's
big performance. He must be nervous as hell," he laughed, looking
around.

  "Tim isn't here today; he took the day off."

  "Oh." Maxim was more disappointed than he wanted to admit.
"Listen, Maxim," Luan continued, dragging him to the coffee-corner,
starting the water heater to brew himself a tea, for Luan, as Vietnamese,
never drank coffee.

  "Those Philipp-guy made contact with journalists of a boulevard
magazine that's attached to a big newspaper. So two of them will be
here for his reading. We haven't told Tim for he will be even more
nervous."

Maxim's mouth fell open. "That's great, Luan. Though how did he make
it?"

Luan shrugged and poured water over the loose tea leaves in his mug.
Nadine came around the corner, beamed and gave him a hug.

  "I see you were busy with decorating, huh?" He took his bag and
pulled out the diverse presents from Paris. "That's a little something
from Paris for all of you," he said while the others unwrapped the paper
and devoured the sweets. Tim's present he left laying on the table. He
was sad that he wouldn't see him now for the whole weekend and tell
him about the trip. "Come on, don't be so lazy and tell us about Paris,"
Nadine said, licking chocolate from the corner of her mouth. "I'm dying
to learn everything!"

  "Everything is private," Maxim teased her. "But you can learn
the rest."

  "And this evening he has invited me to something special I
guess. No jeans, you know," Maxim ended his report.

  "Hotel Adlon," Nadine suggested. "Nightclub Adagio," Luan said.
"Or the Casino at Potsdamer Platz."

  "Rubbish." Maxim hesitated. "Well, perhaps?"

  "Is he that rich that he would invite you to those locations?"

  "Think yes. Though I don't know. He's made a contract in Paris.
The remodelling of a hotel with a wellness- and conference area. He said
the customer liked his concepts of connecting all those parts and the
material he likes to use." Again Maxim thought briefly how Christian's
flat would look. Well, he just had to ask Philipp. But perhaps this night
was the night and Christian would take him home later.



The mountain of clothes grew with each piece Maxim threw behind his
back. He stood between the open doors of his wardrobe and didn't know
what to wear. When the next shirt flung around Coco's ears, he started to
hiss. Maxim turned and saw the white cat upon the heap of clothes, looking
miffed. He burst into laughter. "Alright. You tell me what to wear." Coco
jumped down, rushed to the wardrobe and tugged with his little sharp teeth
at a pair of leather trousers.

  "Careful, sweetie." Maxim took the trousers and examined them.
He hadn't dressed in them for quite a time. Actually not since Leon
had left him, for it was a gift from him. Although he had teased Maxim
for his shopping fits, he had seen the longing looks and made him large
birthday - and Christmas gifts. At least as much as he could afford from
his journalist's salary. Maxim looked out of the window where the sun was
still bright but had softened in its colour. The shadows had become
sharper and the air was clean. He rummaged again between his shirts and
pulled out a long sleeved that had black and white ornamental prints on
breast and back with a tint of red. It was loose and could be well stuffed
into the trousers which would emphasize Maxim's slim hips. He hoped it
would be enough for wherever Christian wanted to go with him.

He was too nervous to eat anything, he just took a glass full of wine
and sipped it while standing and watching the street from the kitchen
window. Nervously he stroked through his hair and rubbed his cheeks.
Whenever he was excited he was pale like an old cheese. Then he heard
the honk from Christian's car and opened the door. Erik, the neighbour
from a floor below, crept down the staircase with a bottle in hand and
passed him. He beamed and looked Maxim up and down. "Hi sugar lump,
you look like I should devour you completely." He drew nearer. "Up to?"
His hand rubbed his penis sticking out from the thin material of
his trousers and Maxim smelled cheap alcohol. "Piss off," he said, not
meaning his rude words.

A moment later Christian was behind Erik and grasped his neck
painfully with his strong hand. Erik ducked and pulled up his shoulders.

  "What do you want?" Christian hissed.

  "Nothing! Let me be," Erik whined but Christian didn't release
him. "Fuck off and don't dare to come back."

Maxim lifted his eyebrows. What was that? Maxim could watch out for
himself, thank you. No reason to treat Erik so badly. Christian gave Erik
a push and he tumbled down the stairs. Christian looked sinisterly until
he heard a door close. Then he turned around smiling as if nothing had
happened, stepped closer and planted a big kiss on Maxim's lips. The
he looked down his body and whistled through his teeth. "No wonder
you made the little shit horny. Look at you." He took Maxim's shoulders
and turned him around himself. Then Maxim felt pushed into his flat and
the door closed. In the hall, Christian pressed him against the wall and
crumpled his shirt with his body while he was kissing him until both
were out of breath.

  "You know," Maxim panted, "that was just Erik, a neighbour."
Somehow he felt he had to defend the poor guy.

  "He was certainly after you!" Christian protested. "About time
you move in with me, to be away from such miserable guys."

Maxim laughed and shoved him away. "I can take care of myself! Erik's
after every pair of pants in town, at least in this house. Apparently he
just came back from a one-day-stand with Lena's boyfriend."

  "Huh?" Christian went on into Maxim's living room and looked
around. "Lena's boyfriend?"

  "Just a joke." Maxim waved off. He watched Christian going
through the room and looking then at the icon showing the Mother
of God with her child in her arms. An archaic smile on her dark face that
was delivered over the centuries since icon-painting had its blooming
days in Greece and Russia.

  "Is it genuine?" Christian asked.

  "Yes. The priest gave two of them to my family when we departed.
It's sacred."

Christian nodded and watched the broad golden frame, the embossed
gloriole around Mary's head, and the odd darkness of her tiny lips. Her
cloak was decorated with amber stones. "It's precious, honey. Have you
been often to church?" he asked.

  "Yes. Russian orthodox."

Christian nodded once more. "I suppose you know the orthodox church at
colony Alexandrowka?"

  "Oh yes, the Alexander-Newski-chapel. Babuschka wanted to go
there urgently." Maxim had placed himself beside Christian and touched
his arm. The colony along with the blockhouses of Nikolskoe had been
built by King Friedrich Wilhelm for the last twelve singers of a Russian
choir who fought in the Russian-Prussian military-union against Napoleon
and remained in the Prussian army. King Friedrich erected a settlement in
original Russian style. Of course they needed a church too. It's throne is
high above the river Havel overlooking the sea-landscape, the forests,
over to Potsdam, Berlin's neighbour town.

   "Do you believe in God?" Christian asked.

  "I do. But I don't need to go to church to prove it. Just when I feel like
it." Uncertainly he looked over at Christian's profile but it remained
unreadable. Then it turned and smiled at him. Something touched his leg.
It was Coco's tail who rubbed up against Maxim's feet, meowing. "Oh,
there's the little fellow that hissed at me recently," Christian said good-
humoured and wanted to stroke Coco. Be he slipped away. At least he
didn't hiss, which Maxim took for a good sign. "There's the balcony
and the bedroom is here."

Christian looked at everything that was to be looked at and then
beamed. "Maxim, it's a very nice flat indeed. But you certainly have
more room in mine. There's a terrace upon the roof and a small swimming
pool. And I have a fire side." He embraced Maxim. "Ever loved in front
of a fire side?"

  "Sure," Maxim said dryly. "We had a fire side too, no central heating,
you know. We had such a big tiled oven!" he showed the span of three
meters with outstretched arms, "and an open fire."

  "What! You made love by an open fire?? With whom?"

  "With a girl, what do you think?"

Christian looked warily at him. "You're kidding me, eh?"

  "Nope. Each house had a tiled oven and some had an open fire."
He laughed at Christian's facial expression. "That's not what you meant,
right? It wasn't in our house. She had open fire too."

  "You have slept with girls? Why?"

Maxim rolled his eyes and dropped Christian's hand. "What for, huh?
Perhaps I didn't want to remain a virgin my lifetime long."

  "Wasn't there any boys?" Oh shit, what was he talking here,
Christian thought instantly. "Well," he said quickly, "I thought
you would do at least the stuff that little boys do when they reach
puberty."

  "Ah!", Maxim's eyes glistened amused. "In the stable, between
milking the cows and removing the dung from the pigs? Or do you
think we fucked the hens?"

  "Jesus, spare me the rest," Christian laughed. Then he looked
into his eyes. "Have you?"

Maxim didn't think he should answer this. He pulled Christian from the
room into the hall. "Do you really think it's ok the way I look? I mean
you made a pretty mystery."

  "You look absolutely ravishing," Christian answered. "Watch out
for all the girls tonight, they'd like to seduce you straight on the dance
floor."

  "Girls? You said, I shouldn't go with girls."

  "No, you shouldn't."

Maxim looked back before he locked the door and waved Coco good
bye who sat amid the hall. He blinked.


When the car approached the glistening towers of Potsdamer Platz,
Maxim's anticipation grew. The last sunbeams met the glass fronts
of the houses and mingled with the neon signs and lights from countless
windows.

Christian drove into an underground car park. "That's the house where
you live," Maxim said, when he closed the door.

  "Right. Come."

But Christian didn't use the lift up to his apartment, but went out on
the street and vanished with Maxim in the many streets. People filled
the restaurants, sitting outside due to the warm weather. Music hung
in the air and Maxim thought to see a scenery of an Italian piazza. The
Hyatt Hotel towered above them in a soft brown colour; to the right side
opened a place he knew as Marlene- Dietrich-Platz, with the Stella Musical
Theatre, the night club Adagio and the large Casino.

Also there, people filled the places at tables, eating and chatting.
Maxim felt excited with Christian by his side. Would it be the Adagio?
Those pompous, baroque club, famous for V.I.P.'s, evenings of fulfilled
decadence and astronomic prices?

He read the huge poster advertising the new performance of  "Cats" at
the musical theatre in the same house. "First I thought this place is
monotone with all its Terracotta tiled facades, you know," Christian
started. "Well, they could win Renzo Piano for the architecture models,
and he was very inventive. Look at all the forms and details."

Maxim knew what he was talking about and surely Christian must be
interested in his famous colleague's work. He, too, had thought that
those places were just a gigantic desert of stone. But it was not. There
were some old houses integrated, patches with trees, inviting one to
have a rest and the terracotta facades changed their colours.

Christian passed by to the other side of the wide place where a neon
sign read "Blu". Young folk waited in front of it, talking and smoking;
dressed up girls and boys besieged the guard.

  "That's the place?" Maxim asked. Christian shoved him through
the people, up to the guard and was examined from head to toe. A
smug grin appeared on the wooden face of the bulky man with a grey
ponytail and he waved them through. Christian paid the entrance fee
and a moment later Maxim was enveloped with a blanket of a cacophony
of music, of voices, and laughter. With smoke from cigarettes and joints,
mist from a fog machine, brilliant spotlights and the familiar scent of
perfume, sweat and after shave. Mirrors on walls, two bars and
staircases leading up and down. The people twisting and turning
looked as though they had jumped from a glossy magazine like MAX
or VOGUE.

He sensed Christian's hand on his shoulder and felt secure. Faces
passed by, smiling and winking at him, while Christian pulled him to
the down staircase where the music had a bearable volume, although
there was a dance floor, too, that was filled with all kind of people.
He couldn't make them out clearly in the blurry blue light and he
didn't know who was the man and who was the woman. Everybody
danced mixed up, men with men, embraced like lovers, women
with women, or was this drag kings? Women with men. Nothing
seemed to matter here.

Maxim detected a snack bar and felt his stomach suddenly growling.
He eyed the sandwiches, tapas and sushi. "I'm hungry," he said and
lined up in the short queue that had built. Christian joined him, taking
several tapas with vegetable and salsa sauce while Maxim tried the
sushi. He didn't allow that Christian paid for him and ate happily the
artful decorated pieces of raw fish. He loved it instantly once he had
detected these Japanese dishes a year ago, but Christian shuddered.
He hated sushi. Then he lifted Maxim's glass. "Japanese beer?" he
asked amused.

  "Authentic," Maxim grinned.

  "You like it here?" he shouted over the music.

Maxim's look wandered to all corners of the large room. People
dancing to disco music of the 80's that lived a reminiscence lately.
He was itching for a dance. Christian's red, tight fitting shirt defined
his upper body, he saw the supple muscles bending and stretching
with each movement he made. "I do like it. It's a new club?" Christian
nodded and dipped his wrapped tapas into salsa.

More young women strutted down the staircase on high heeled
boots, the décolleté reaching to their belly buttons, exposing the
round, artificial breasts. Maxim would have liked to prick them with
a needle to see if they would fly off like a pricked balloon. He grinned
at Christian who must have had the same thought. He eyed them
curiously when they started their lascivious dances. Swinging endless
legs, showing their string tanga's and the round globes of their asses
too and behaved as tarty as they could. Probably they looked either
for customers or better: for a rich fish.

Christian caught several hot looks and many fluttering lashes while
Maxim caught Russian words. Under the tons of make-up he
detected the same high cheekbones as he had himself, the Slavic
faces with the slanting eyes. Just another charge of fresh meat
from Russia he thought grumpily when one of the girls sat at their
table and smiled obtrusively and potted at the same time. She eyed
both from under false lashes and couldn't decide which of the two
she could pick up. "You look like a hungry cat," Christian said,
repelled.

Her eyes started to glow. "Hungry for you," she started with a
very hard accent. "You treat me something to drink?" She conjured
up a cigarette from under her skirt and held it provocatively in
Maxim's direction. Automatically he pulled out his lighter. She
inhaled deeply and then her long artificial finger nails caressed his
chin and cheeks. Christian jerked. "Go and buy yourself
something to drink. We're not interested."

She laughed a drunken, hoarse laugh, followed by a strong,
Russian swear. Maxim stopped eating. He looked at her sinisterly
and started to shower her with Russian words. In no time both were
involved in a high-pitched quarrel from her side and a strong gush of
rolled "r's" and impressive words from his side.

Christian pulled Maxim aside and she was dragged away by her
friends.

  "What was that? What did she say?"

  "Oh, just some nice words for what we are."

  "What are we?" He was impressed by the sharpness of Maxim's
tone and that he could protect himself. The pack of girls had pulled
her back to the upper dance floor.

  "You don't want to know," Maxim said. "I'm really sorry," he
added.

  "Sorry for what? It wasn't your fault."

  "But my fellow countrymen."

Christian leaned forward. "What are you? German or Russian?"

  "I don't know," Maxim said. "Both. I know that the emigrants
behave like shit. Mafia, prostitution, crime, extortion, drugs."

  "Again, it's not your fault."

  "But I'm thrown into the same pot!" Maxim said.

  "Nobody's making reproaches. Had any of your friends or
boyfriends ever had inhibitions? No. You see. I know that they
behave like shit. They don't have any other choice when they are
held in a ghetto. And besides, it's you who throw them into the same
pot. Not all of them are bad."

Maxim shook his head. "They don't have to live in a ghetto. I was
lucky my parents taught me German, almost none of the kids
coming to Germany speak German nor will find a work to do, or
finish even their school here. It's just that one family draws the
next and, of course, when nobody speaks German well enough
except the old ones, they are dependent on each other and on
their own language. I'm ashamed of their behaviour." He lifted
his glass but it was empty.

Christian went and came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
"Cheers," he said warmly and stroked Maxim's cheek. "Forget it.
Let's have a great evening. You can't solve all those problems
yourself. And even if you wreck your pretty head, it won't help."
He smiled at him and clinked his glass with Maxim's. "Let's go up
then, I like to dance with you," he whispered into his ear.

He pulled out his package of cigarettes, lit one and pushed it
between Maxim's lips, then he lit one for himself. They smoked
in silence for awhile. For Maxim the theme wasn't over. He thought
about Christian's words: Are you German or Russian? He honestly
didn't know. He could feel the inner conflict of the young Russians
coming here with their families. They hadn't any relation to Germany
because their native place was Russia. Now, thrown into a completely
different lifestyle - they are losing their minds. Scoffed at in school
because they speak a funny German or not a German at all. Damned
to fail, they search for money elsewhere to buy all the things they
see in shop windows although they got rich support from the
government. Maxim knew people who drove expensive cars,
were dressed in posh clothes and had two mobiles, which caused
envy from those who had to work hard for those signs of wealth.

He felt Christian's look. Stupid to gloom when he had the most
desirable man by his side. Maxim smiled and played with
Christian's fingers. He longed to sleep with him.

But then Christian's face turned to stone. Maxim followed his stare
and detected  Philipp standing in the queue of the snack bar. Next
to him stood Christian. No, wait. Christian was sitting beside
himself. Must be a look alike. Perhaps it wasn't Philipp at all.
But a look into Christian's face told him he had seen all right.
Then it dawned on him. Surely Christian had told about his
brother.

  "What a coincidence," he said out loud, "there's Philipp." He
waved and attracted Philipp's attention. But then Philipp's face
fell too when he stared at Christian. "Holy crap," he muttered,
pushing Martin and whispering. But there wasn't a return. With
sandwich laden plates and a bottle of wine, both sat at the table.
The tension between Martin and Christian was tangible like
thick fumes. Maxim, on his behalf, looked from one face into the
other and couldn't decide who was who. Finally his look met
Philipp who lifted his eyebrow. He leaned over to Maxim and
said into his ear, "Don't tell me you didn't know that both are
identical twins."

Maxim was mute with surprise. All of a sudden he comprehended
the incident at the bookshop: it wasn't Christian Philipp had come
with, it was Martin. Which meant... Bewildered he wanted to say
something, but Philipp pushed his shin painfully hard.

  "I see you've found substitute, honey," Christian said
nonchalantly to Philipp. Philipp looked warily but Christian's
eyes were calm. Perhaps he had over come it.

Christian himself felt nothing when he saw Philipp, his old love.
What did it matter that he was shunned by him when he had
Maxim by his side. Maxim was now the centre of his world. He
was much brighter, much more exciting, much more everything!
And he didn't want to know if Philipp fucked his brother while
they were still living together. He was sure anyway. Nothing
really mattered to him concerning this. He sipped at his glass
of wine and gave Martin a broad smile. "I'm really glad to know
Philipp is in good hands, you know."

Martin blinked confused. This couldn't be the same Christian he
knew. Where were his fits of jealousy? First he had thought that
Christian would beat him but from one minute to the next he
seemed to change his mind. His eyes wandered to the young man
by his side. This could only be Maxim, the new boyfriend. Their
eyes met and he saw the shock in Maxim's eyes about the similarity.
No. Identity. Except the colour of the hair but that wasn't to be seen
in those lights. Maxim: The man Christian had hung his heart on
now; Maxim the man he counted on when he wanted his brother
to be mentally safe. He needed private words with him to probe
his mind.

  "Are you coming to Tim's reading too?" he heard Maxim saying
and nodded.  "Sure I'll come. Philipp here had pestered me that long
until I played with the publisher's connection to magazines and
newspapers. Two of them will come and listen and write a column."

  "I know," Maxim threw in. "But Tim doesn't know anything about
that. You have connection to a publisher? Ah yes, Christian told
me you're translator of English books, aren't you."

  "Right, and he read Tim's novel already. Like we all probably,"
Philipp said.

  "I haven't so far," Christian said, "but Maxim told me a lot of
it. I'm looking forward to the event."

Even the voices were identical, Maxim thought. Meanwhile,
Christian must have realized that Philipp had a dally with Martin
when they were still together, but he seemed to take it easy.
Although Maxim found the idea very odd that Philipp had a
relation with Christian's twin. Didn't it mean that Philipp still
had a heart for Christian when he used the same body, just
the mind was different? And anyway, what was with Tim??
Shouldn't Philipp be with Tim? He guided his questioning eyes
to Philipp who returned the stare. No way he could ask
him here. They needed a private talk.

  "We have been to see Cats," Philipp said. "We always
wanted to go to Hamburg to see it there." He turned to Christian,
"But you never had time."

  "Well, now the mountain came to the prophet," Christian said.
"Was it good?"

  "Very good."

  "Interested in seeing it?" Christian asked Maxim. Maxim didn't
answer. First he wasn't that fond of musicals and second he
didn't understand why Christian had to hurt Philipp. But
Christian didn't wait for his answer but had suddenly decided
to repeal the round, go upstairs to dance and enjoy the night.


Maxim hadn't seen anything from Christian's apartment. Except
the bath and the bedroom. Christian lay bent over him, caressing
his body with his finger tips and smiling into his face. Then he
saw something, picked it from his cheek and held it out. "An
eyelash. Make a wish and blow it away," he said.

Gosh, a wish? Maxim had become sensitive on this theme. Well,
it didn't count seriously this time. So he closed his eyes and
whispered to himself. "Be always happy with you." Then he
blew the lash away.

It was a cosy place in Christian's bedroom although it had been
used by Philipp before. The walls were painted with a warm mango
colour with rosewood fitted wardrobes and expensive looking
spot lights on the ceiling. Christian pressed some buttons set
into the head of the bed and thus used the hi-fi system. Low
music started and Maxim listened. The sound seemed to come
from everywhere, from hidden loudspeakers, placed in well thought
locations in the room. Pompous music and a very cultivated voice,
trained as tenor, sang classic pieces.

Through the drawn old golden curtains slipped a very pale light
although the sun had to be high already. This was a real love
nest Maxim thought and he felt well. He closed his eyes and
listened to the unknown voice, felt Christian embracing him,
breathing slowly and relaxed. But he had so many questions.
Instead of starting a discussion he asked, "Who is it?"

  "Bjoern Casapietra," Christian answered. Then he opened his
eyes and bent over him again. "When are you going to the bar
to play piano? Who taught you this actually?

  "I learned in school. My teacher had a piano and she gave me
lessons. Unfortunately I couldn't practice because neither me nor
my parents have a piano."

Christian said nothing, but he seemed to ponder.

  "Well, actually I have to play in the evening of the weekends,"
Maxim continued, "which means today and actually yesterday
too. Dario will be pissed that I didn't come yesterday."

  "Don't bother with Dario. I'll deal with it. So, it's tonight?
But what if I don't want to spend the evenings waiting for you?
And I can't dance with you when you're playing at the same
time."

Maxim laughed. "I have breaks, you know. And I need the money."

  "You're mad for clothes, I see." Christian said, laughing too.
He lifted Maxim's G-string from the fluffy white carpet that covered
the whole room.

  "Right." Maxim fished for the cloth, but couldn't reach it. They

struggled playfully with each other until Maxim started to kiss
Christian's body, the skin, the scars, rolled him over to his
stomach, followed the line of his spine down to his buttocks,
parted them and lapped at his orifice, tasting the sweet scent of
Christian's banana lubricant they had used in the night before.
Christian started to breath harder and wriggled on the smooth
red blankets.

Meanwhile Maxim knew all the sensitive spots on Christian's body
and this one was one of his favourites. Well, whose favourite spot
was it not? He tried to enter him with his tongue until it hurt and
then kissed the hole instead, licked and blew, hearing Christian
moaning. He rolled over on his back again and Maxim embraced
his erection. He looked into Christian's bright grey eyes, saw
the longing and thought that perhaps his wish would come true.
Some wishes were made in heaven as Tim had written and right
now Maxim was convinced this was the truth.

Christian spread his legs, giving Maxim's fingers access to enter him.

Later he didn't hear the music anymore, just their own voices, giving
expression to their feelings, until everything blurred to a bright red
curtain front of his closed eyes. He was just a sensing being, reduced
to feel and smell and it was heavenly.

An hour later the CD was over and all that Maxim heard was Christian's
murmured words of love. "Please stay here," he said into his ear. "I
need you. I promise you everything you want. Will you?"

Maxim stroked him. This very moment Christian seemed to be a
vulnerable child under his hands. Odd, how he could change from
a dominating man to an obeying lover. He seemed to fill the whole
range of a human being. An why shouldn't Maxim move in with him?

  "I need to feed Coco," he said low.

  "That's no answer." Christian rose. "Take Coco and come back,
please."

His eyes were shaded. Now they looked like a snow covered glacier.
Maxim would have granted him each wish right now. He kissed his
lips, stroked his hip and leg and felt hungry suddenly. "Give me some
days to organize and pack my stuff, ok?"

Christian smiled drunkenly. "Sure, everything you want."

  "You owe me the grand tour," Maxim said, climbing out of bed.
The carpet felt very soft between his toes. It was like walking
over feathers.

The bathroom with the round bath tub and the mint green tiles
he knew already when they walked with a toast and coffee mug
in hands through the apartment. Maxim knew he would feel good
in this surrounding, although it was all  Christian's and not his. As
if he had read his mind, Christian said, "If you like something different,
say it. We could decorate new, buy new furniture or so. It's probably
a little cool."

  "We'll see. Probably a little more colour couldn't do harm."
Maxim said, stepping to the large windows in the living room. The
view reached to the cupola of the Reichstag and the huge, rainbow
striped balloon, a TV-channel used as advertisement place. Suddenly
the room was filled with another voice singing and Maxim got goose
bumps.

Christian was behind him, embracing his waist. Bombastic string
player, a choir and a tenor voice made the windows tremble. Now
he knew that Christian loved classic pop music.

  "Come," he whispered into Maxim's ear and led him up a spiral
staircase in a corner of the room. Sunlight hit them with all its
might when they stood on the roof terrace, protected with an iron
fence. Blue water shimmered invitingly in the small pool. Maxim
dropped the short bath robe, sat at the tiled rim of the pool and
splashed the water with his legs. "Come, it's warm." With a smooth,
catlike movement he slipped into the water and dove. Under water
he heard splashes and saw Christian beside him, embracing him and
kissing him under water. They exchanged air until they couldn't hold
on any more. Panting they broke the surface, paddling in the warm
water.

Maxim cornered Christian finally at the rim and pressed his naked
body against his. He sure would move in, no matter what his cat
would say. He would give him a cosy place and he wouldn't miss
a thing. He just had to make sure that the door to the roof terrace
was closed.

  "Have you thought of a roof terrace garden?" he asked. "What a
wasted place. Chris. My balcony is too small to grow a jungle, but
here's plenty of room. Say yes."

Christian grinned. "I see, you're making plans." He kissed him. His
lips were cool from the water. He stroked Maxim's body with one
hand, fondled his testicles and the half hard penis. Maxim moaned
into his mouth and battled with his own tongue. Their cocks
pressed together, rubbing until they found release.

  "Geez, look at the water," Maxim chortled. "What a mess. Do
you have a housekeeper?"

  "Yeah, once in a week."

  "And judging what the kitchen looks like, you never cook in
there, right?"

  "Seldom. But I can cook if this should be your next question."

  "A proof, a proof!" Maxim shouted and splashed Christian with
water, before he swam away and stepped out of the pool. Christian
came shortly after him. They chased each other down the staircase
into the bathroom and dried each other. Christian gave Maxim one
of his jeans and a T-shirt and vanished then into the kitchen, while
Maxim finished the tour through the apartment.

He watched the displays in the glass boxes beside the fireside.
Mostly large crystal figures. One of them was the carp he had
bought at Lalique in Paris. The satin finished fish balanced on the
crest of a crystal wave. Christian had told him the carp is an emblem
of good fortune and longevity. It had found its place among other
crystal animals and on each of them he saw the little engraving of
"Lalique". He asked himself if he had been often to Paris with Philipp.
In front of them all was a small black box, but Maxim didn't dare to
open it.

The hunger urged him into the kitchen where appetizing smell came
from the sizzling steaks in the pan. On another, potatoes roasted
and broccoli in a boiling pot. He watched when Christian crumbled
fresh rosemary over the potatoes and worked with an over
dimensional pepper mill. Meanwhile he was convinced that Christian
could cook, probably better than he himself.

They ate in the dining room, a little separated from the living
room though connected by open door frames. "Can I ask you
something?" Maxim asked. Christian nodded.

  "You know, yesterday Philipp and Martin. You never told me
you're identical twins. Not that it matters, but did you have the
feeling too that Philipp was very familiar with Martin? I mean,
what else should be the reason they went together to the musical
and afterwards dancing? Do you think he was with him while you
and Philipp were still together?"

Christian said nothing for a while. He chewed at his steak as if it
would be a shoe's sole all of a sudden. "Well," he started then,
"Actually I don't care in the least. Philipp had his time and it is
over. I don't want to look back."

Maxim stared speechless at him. But perhaps he was right. What
did it matter if Philipp cheated on him or not. It surely was Christian's
right decision to finish their relationship. Although the lines in
Christian's face and the pulled down brows told him a different
story. He seemed to feel pain nonetheless. He reached out his
hand and put it over Christian's, holding the knife. "Are you mad
with your brother?"

Christian shook his head.

  "I find it rather odd that he goes out with Martin. I wouldn't
know which of you it was when I opened my eyes."

The steep wrinkle between Christian's brows grew even deeper.
"Let's not talk about it, ok?" Then his face relaxed. "You're here
with me. Leave the past, Maxim. I don't want to be reminded." He
put the last bite into his mouth. "Let's drive to your home, feed the
cat and then go to our bar."

  "Our bar?" Maxim teased him. "Has it become our bar now?
Perhaps we should find our very own place."

  "Gosh, Maxim! You don't think I just want to replace Philipp?"
Christian said sharply. "Go to Paris, go to "Made in Heaven" to
find a piece of him still there? Have you ever heard me crying out
his name while we're having sex? You don't want to hold
reproaches?"

  "Of course not." Maxim was startled by this outburst. He washed
it away with a glass of mineral water. "It's our bar then," he said
slowly. He rose and cleared away the dishes into the dish washer.
When he turned, Christian stood, looking repentant. "I'm sorry.
If you like to go somewhere else, we can."

  "I like to play piano tonight," Maxim said determined. "I
haven't in a long time." He stepped closer. "I promise to
play only for you."

-----------------------------------
[*] "Tune in tomorrow" starring Barbara Hershey, Peter Falk, Keanu Reeves