Date: Sun, 14 Oct 2001 03:51:40 EDT
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: Angel's Trumpets, chapter 8

ANGEL'S TRUMPETS

by Stefan
http://stefan680.tripod.com/stefanstories/


Chapter Eight


Vincenzo shivered despite the warm, balmy air.  The echo of the shot
roared in his ears.  What did this mean?  Was Leandro dead, struck down
by the killer?  And Daniel?  Vincenzo's whole body shook and he was about
to piss in his pants.  What should ne do?  See what happened there in the
darkness between the mighty museum's buildings?

He jumped when he heard a car behind him.  It had taken the same way as
he and Daniel had a few minutes ago.  The door opened and Cornelius
stepped out.

    "What happened here?  Where's your friend?"

    "There."  Vincenzo's quivering arm and hand pointed the direction.

    "And you?  Where's the other guy you drove with in the car?"

Vincenzo didn't answer.  A wailing of sirens sounded:  a police car shot
up the hill, coming to a halt next to Cornelius' car.  "Are you the man
who called for us?" the officer asked.

    "Yes.  There was a shooting."

    "Ok, stay here."  He pulled out his gun and loaded it.  Together
with his colleague he disappeared into the shadows, in the direction of
Tarpeian Rock.

Vincenzo and Cornelius stood motionless until an ambulance flashed its
blue light like a mute beacon through the night.  It was like a silent
movie playing in front of Vincenzo's sight:  The stretcher, that was
pulled out, the return with a motionless body, covered in a golden,
rustling blanket and an oxygen mask over his face.  After a while it was
Leandro next to Daniel, who had given him his jacket to cover his still
naked upper body.  Vincenzo saw the blood sleeve and gulped, empty from
shock, yet with relief.

Their eyes met.  Leandro frowned and gave him a sad and most
disappointed look.  Daniel ignored him completely.

    "Come", Cornelius said finally.  "Think we both need a drink."

Vincenzo let it happen.  Meekly he stepped into Cornelius' car.  He felt
his burning cheeks and the coldness of his hands, nothing more.

    "At least they're all alive", he heard Cornelius' voice from far
away.  "You ran away?"

Vincenzo's shoulders sank a little.  Then:  "What would you have done,
facing a gun?" he shouted.

    "Calm down, it was just a simple question."  Cornelius watched the
other man in the small mirror.  He didn't look too good.



E.U.R.

Once arrived in his small flat at the E.U.R. Quarter he mixed him a
Cinzano and Vincenzo emptied the glass in one go.  Then his shivering
stopped finally.

    "Can I have a cigarette?"

Cornelius tossed him his package and watched how Vincenzo lit one,
inhaled deeply, started to cough and took another drag.  "I couldn't do
anything.  If I had moved to help Leandro he would have shot me", it
gushed out of his mouth.  "And there was Daniel, he was going the other
way around to stop this asshole."

    "What was this about actually?"  Cornelius asked.  He sat in the
corner of his couch, sipped at his Cinzano, smoked silently and stared
motionless at the bag of nerves in front of him.

    "We were trying to find the murderer from Luigi's Bar."

    "The cardinal?  That was the cardinal you spoke about?"  Cornelius'
eyes widened.  "Your ex-lover played the bait, right?"  He whistled
through his teeth.  "But somehow everything went off course."  He leaned
back.  "How could he be so stupid to go alone with the killer?"

    "He wasn't alone, there should have been two of the strippers in the
room to help him.  Perhaps they were not there..."

Cornelius shrugged.  "Anyway, your friends are safe."  He poured
Vincenzo another Cinzano.

    "And I'm the coward", Vincenzo said low.

Cornelius shrugged once more.  He wasn't sure what he would have done in
Vincenzo's shoes.

    "Now I'm through in his eyes for sure.  I haven't helped him; I was
running away."

    "Hey, stop it."  Cornelius threw him another cigarette. "It's too
late for self reproaches.  I told you that you didn't have a real chance
with your ex-lover." He stretched out his body. "Perhaps you can console
yourself with me?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively and Vincenzo's
head started to spin.  The alcohol, the cigarettes and the fresh surge
of adrenaline worked their ways when Cornelius stood up and pushed him
into his bedroom.

It hadn't helped much for Vincenzo lay awake the whole night, listening
to the unfamiliar breathing next to him.  He had allowed Cornelius to do
everything last night - everything that was possible between two males
and he had enjoyed it as long as he had been able to repress Leandro's
disappointed face.

Well, he did Cornelius wrong.  He was really nice but it just wasn't the
same.  It would never be the same.  No matter how many men he would
consume.  Vincenzo comprehended suddenly that it was either loneliness
or one night stands.  Sometimes both were the same.  How could he find
the right man for him when Leandro was lost to him?  Cornelius?
Perhaps.  No.  Cornelius WAS a one night stand.  He doubted that he
wanted more from a guy.

Silently he rose, stepped out of bed and looked for his clothes.  When
he was about to pull on his trousers a golden ring fell from his pocket
and rolled exactly in front of the bed.

Cornelius opened his eyes and snatched it. "Want to ask for an
engagement?" he muttered sleepily, then his brain functions started to
work.  He looked at the ring in his palm and to Vincenzo.  "You're
married, right?  That's the reason you came here.  One fuck-goodbye
before you return to our wife."  Cornelius sat upright and shook his
head.   Vincenzo stood there, trousers in hand, like a poor wretch.

    "Does our wife know?"

Vincenzo shook his head.  Cornelius nodded.  "That's no good.  Sooner or
later it will return.  Your longing.  You have to decide.  Or are you bi?"

Vincenzo shrugged his shoulders.

    "You can't deny your very being."  Cornelius stepped out of bed and
slipped into his morning robe, lit a cigarette and guided Vincenzo into
the tiny kitchen where he busied himself with preparing the Espresso
machine.  "Do you love your wife?" he asked over his shoulder.  "If yes,
it's ok.  Love's always good.  But you must tell her about your feelings
toward other men."

    "I can't.  I'll lose her."

    "Let her have time to decide", Cornelius continued unmoved.  "If she
can live with it, it's ok for both of you, if she can't you should
leave."

    "But I don't love her."

Cornelius stubbed his cigarette.  The machine gargled and hissed.  "All
right.  Then why are you with her?"

    "You don't have to love somebody to have a good time together."

    "Right.  Last night's proof.  You want kids?"

    "No."

Cornelius breathed out audible.  "Afraid I can't help ou then.  Usually
it's the wish for a family that drives us into women's arms, or the
family pressure."  But one thing is clear."  His finger pointed high in
the air.  "You'll never ever be happy in your life.  Each day you'll
curse that day when you submitted to this connection.  Every time you
pass a handsome man you'll ask yourself how he might be in bed."

    "I can't."  Vincenzo held his palms over his ears and slumped down
in a chair.  "I can't, I can't."

Cornelius gave up.  Resignedly he said, "It's ok, Vince.  Perhaps one
day you'll find the guts."

One day.

    "Would you like me for your boyfriend?"

It took Cornelius a while before he answered.   "I'm sure a lot of guys
would like to have you for their boyfriend."  He smiled.  "I'm not made
for it.  It's fun that's all."

    "That's all?  That's all gay life is about?"

Cornelius stepped quickly closer.  "Listen, I don't think it's THE gay
life.  We aren't better than any other man in the world.  Perhaps just
one fortune:  You'll get what you want.  No beating around the bush, no
waiting until you're allowed to touch - or more.  It's sex, pure and
clear; there aren't any questions left."  He lit another cigarette and
stood relaxed in the middle of the room.

Vincenzo was disappointed.  He thought there should be something else.
"Well, then better to return to the world I know."

    "No, understand me right.  I was talking about myself.  There's
certainly more.  Just not for me; I don't need it.   I haven't said it
would be easy to start a new life but you've begun already; why stop
halfway?"

Vincenzo shook his head.  Perhaps one day.

    "Hey," Cornelius lifted his chin.  "Thanks for the night.  What a
loss for the community."  He winked and stepped back.  "Do what you
want."

Vincenzo took this as an invitation to go.



Gianicolo

Nobody noticed that Leandro and Daniel hadn't come home.  It was the
next morning when Kay was up early to make breakfast when he heard the
door closing.  A minute later Daniel appeared with a tight bandage
around his upper arm. He held it in a sling around his neck.

   "Gosh, what happened to you?  I didn't know you hadn't come home."

Leandro was behind him, looking very tired, dirty and unbelievably sad.
Despite his stomach grumble he couldn't bring himself to eat something
right now.  He just plopped upon a chair next to Daniel.

    "What happened, man?  Talk!"

Kay listened, head shaking and with growing anger.  "This you both did
alone?  You must be mad.  Why haven't you told us?  And the cardinal?"

    "He's receiving surgery.  The sand and shrubs had eased his fall,
but he got a broken leg and both arms.  And a concussion.  Might be that
his spine is damaged too."

Kay was silent.   "Well," he said then, "he deserves each single broken
limb."  He poured coffee into the cups.  Leandro's mouth watered.
Having this out to somebody he felt more light hearted than before.
Daniel had gotten a grazing shot of his upper arm that needed no
surgery, it had to heal by it's self.


When Sebastian, Marcus and Nick appeared he couldn't repeat this story
once more, so Kay filled them in.  They said nothing, just stared at
both before they started to chat, all at the same time.

    "And Vincenzo really ran away?  That coward!"  Kay lashed out.

    "Well..." Daniel said hesitating.  "You are what you are.  Nothing
more and nothing less."

Leandro pressed his hand.  Once he had thought that he needed proof
which of them loved him more.  He had gotten the proof last night, but
he would have preferred it hadn't cost that much.  Almost their
lives...  He shook his head imperceptible.  It didn't depend on having
proof or not.  That was silly.  He had felt a long time ago that Daniel
was the right man, no matter if he had saved his life or not.

    "Nando will deliver the photos to the police.   I'm sure they will
have a use for them, no matter  if he's a cardinal of the Holy See or
not", Daniel finished.  His arm hurt.  The effect of the pain killers
subsided slowly.  Meanwhile he thought that last night's events had only
been a dream.  He couldn't have done this - be threatened with a gun,
fought with the killer and threw him down a steep embankment?  Well,
actually it was Leandro but the result was the same.  But then, as Kay
said, he deserved each broken limb he had.



Leandro plopped exhausted upon the small couch in his room, shortly
followed by Daniel who took the other corner.  They sat in silence, the
sun falling in a diagonal angle into the room.  It was the morning of
another hot day in Rome but within him it was night.  The momentary
relief had vanished, and gloom returned.  Pain choked his throat; he
wiped his eyelids and pinched them, before a dry sob escaped.

Daniel turned his head and took Leandro's hand that lay outstretched and
limp between them before he pulled him into his arms and cooed words.
"It's all right, honey, we're safe."

The sobs ceased.  Leandro touched the bandage around Daniel's arm.  "How
can I make up for this?" he said low.  But Daniel smiled.  "They say if
you save someone's life you're responsible for his future life for
always.  I don't think that's too much of a burden for me."

Leandro blinked and smiled too.



Ospedale Tre Croci

    "Your Villa at Via Appia, don't you remember?"  Andrea had lifted
his bed and sat comfortably leaning against the cushions while Roberto
in the bed next to him and a white bandage around his head, had to lay
flat due to  his concussion.

Andrea peered over to the very pale face that belonged to George
Rosenstock.  He had a small tube leading to the drip that nursed his
body.  Physically he was somewhat better but mentally... Andrea shook
his head.  The docs had put them all in the same room because they had
the hope they could shock George from his amnesia.

So far in vain, but it was just a few days ago.  Actually Andrea didn't
need to stay in hospital anymore but he wanted to keep George and
Roberto company and since he paid the bills, nobody objected as long as
the bed wasn't needed.

Despite everything that George had done to Andrea he felt pity for him.
He had suffered so much.  The doc had spoken about a sexual abusing,
asking Andrea bluntly about George's inclinations.

The guys - above all Sebastian - had told them everything that had
happened when Cardinal Borghese had been delivered into the same
hospital, possibly the killer of two young gay men.  And almost of
George too.

George blinked uncomprehendingly.  He had a vague shadow of a picture in
his mind of a dark room lit by a candle and the presence of a man that
was connected with pain.  The man and the pain were the same.  He
watched how the handsome, dark haired man came up to him and sat upon
his bed.  "The large villa you just bought."  Andrea swallowed "for us"
he actually wanted to say.  Was it good to remind George?  Perhaps he
wouldn't remember.

George wished he would speak a little slower because he couldn't follow
him properly.  He couldn't remember who he was and why he was here no
matter how much they inquired about everything that had happened to him.

He had forgotten everything, who he was, what had happened the days
before and why he was lying in a hospital bed.  Attentively he watched
the young face in front of him.  He spoke English with a hard accent.
Hard and soft at the same time.  A black, neatly trimmed mustache
covered his upper lip, George wondered if it would tickle if it would
touch his private parts.  He flinched involuntarily.  What private
parts?  When he clenched the muscles of his orifice inwards, he felt
pain.

    "Pain..." he muttered.

    "I know you're in pain George."  Andrea said.  "This monster had a
go on you very badly.  Better you can't remember, it's not pleasant."
Andrea stopped.  He shouldn't recall these things, not now.   "Now,
George," he said more cheerful, "I'm sure you remember your house in
London.  Greenwich, do you?"

George blinked.  "Have you... have you been there?" he asked.

    "Well, no.  But you told me about it."  Surely enough Andrea had
stayed in his house in London while both attended the Versace exhibition
last spring, but he didn't want to give any sign that George and he
himself had been lovers, well, a sort of lovers.  He stopped.  No.  They
hadn't been lovers at all.  Andrea had behaved like the lowest slut in
town, fucking George for money.  Enough money to go away with Roberto.

Involuntarily his had turned to Roberto lying in his bed, watching with
his eyes.  He gave him a smile.

    "What am I doing here?"  George asked again.

    "You were kidnapped."

    "Kidnapped?  By whom?"

    "He is in custody."

Flashes of a dark chamber in George's mind.  A floating candle, sat by
his bed, a cup with hot tea that tasted funny.  Oblivion afterwards.
Pain when he awoke.

    "Well, George you'll recover soon.  Are you going back to London
then?  Your business here is over."  Andrea waited and watched.

George's eyes shut slowly and he seemed to fall back into sleep.  Better
for him.  Sooner or later he would remember everything and then Andrea
wanted to be far away from him.  The doctors had diagnosed amnesia,
forced by the poison that had been given him.  They still examined him
to find out which poison it was, but explained that George had good
chances to regain his memory.

Andrea rose and sat on Roberto's bed, took his hand and patted it.
"Sebastian felt pretty awkward when I had thanked him yesterday.  At
least it was him who saved us all, but he thinks he doesn't deserve it.
After all it was Marcus, Nick and Kay who had come to our final rescue."

Roberto nodded.  "Let's not talk about it anymore."

Andrea lowered his head and gave him a quick kiss.  "And actually it was
you who came and started this all.  I'm glad to have you."

Roberto wondered about the soft tone Andrea was using.  Perhaps the days
alone in darkness, silence and hopelessness had changed something within
him.  Perhaps...  Perhaps it was a start of a different relationship.
Without George Rosenstock, without him to sit and ponder. Without
thinking that Andrea was a complete asshole, doubting his words that he
did all this to lead a better life with him - Roberto - afterwards.  He
stared into Andrea's dark eyes.  Promising to much.  He felt the hand
that embraced his own.  And he started to believe.



Ospedale Tre Croci


Principe Gianluca Borghese-Caffarelli had survived his surgery but his
spine had permanent damage, so he would end up his life in a wheel
chair.  After three weeks he was strong enough to sit in the bed.  The
casts on his arms had been taken away and just tight bandages covered
them from the wrists to his elbows.  He could move his hands and
fingers, also his neck and back but nothing below.  His legs could have
been cut off - it made no difference.  Feverishly his hand slid under
the bedcover to find the special place he was so fond of.  Frightened he
lifted the cover to have a look. It was still there but he didn't feel
the touch.  His cock was dead.  There was nothing.  Absolutely nothing.
He groaned.  He would have given his right arm for a hard on.

Each morning he hoped in vain.  The doctors left no hope for him.  It
was permanent damage of the spine.  Hate boiled in his guts.  The boy
and his fuck body...  The last bullet he had saved in his gun should
have been for himself and not for that son of a bitch.  He couldn't
believe his naivety that Leandro should have fancied to fuck with him.
Instead - he had been trapped, beaten and thrown over an embankment.

His fingers tenderly outlined the length of his penis.  What a waste.
No guy would now feel the pleasure it brings.  The pleasure of being
fucked, the pleasure of being shaken with lust, desire and overpowered
by his - Gianluca Borghese's - will power.  The last fuck of his life,
what was it?  He regretted that he hadn't been able to enter the young,
pretty boy and punish him for the trick he had played on him.  Ah!  What
would it mean to him...  He stroked and rubbed his flaccid cock but
neither he sensed the touch nor did it have any response.  It was simply
dead - no orgasms anymore, no slippery, tight tunnel where he could shed
his urging semen.  The Britisher!  The British guy he had left in the
chamber at San Sebastiano!  What had happened to him.  He must be dead
after all this time.  Well, served him right.  He was dead now like
Gianluca's cock.  Useless, it hung along his leg, pierced with a tube
that led the urine to a bag hanging outside the bed.  Ugh.

If he was now bound to lead the life of a cripple ... he corrected
himself - of an impotent cripple.  He looked to the window.  It was
protected with iron grating.

The door opened and a male nurse entered the room.  A bulky man stepped
in behind him, wearing white hospital clothes, folded his heave, strong
arms in front of his mighty chest, looking grimly at the bed.  Gianluca
loved the young nurse although he hadn't spoken a single word to him.

He controlled the place of the tube that filled Gianluca with a painful
desire.  He sure must be impressed by the size but his face didn't show
any reaction.  He should see it when it stood proudly!  Gianluca's hand
reached out and touched the nurse's private parts.  The bulge was
pleasant although not hard.  The young man stepped away and gave him a
slap upon his fingers as he would have done to a child.  Then he and his
bodyguard left the room.

No more... no more!  No sucking mouth, no orifice to lick.  He longed
for a cup of his Angel's Trumpets so much that his whole body shivered,
but nobody would bring him one.  The Brit had loved the taste of it
too.  Gianluca grinned a distorted smile.  How good he had been, and
quiet and obeying.  Always ready for him.  As soon as he was out of here
he would visit him.  Down there in the small chamber.  He was waiting
for sure for his daily share of tea and sex.  Gianluca chortled and
rubbed his penis.  And then everything would be like it was before.



Gianicolo

The heat had subsided.  Rome's inhabitants returned from their holiday
domiciles to fill the streets, houses and shops.

Marcus was laying in a recliner in Sebastian's garden.  He enjoyed the
peace after all the rampage that had a grip on all of them the past
weeks.  He pondered why they always had to be enmeshed in adventures no
matter where they went.  He started to fancy the idea to move to Italy
with everything he possessed.  Johannes could run his workshop and the
new shop that had just opened.

The sun stroked his face like the touch of a lover.  Probably Nicki
wouldn't like the idea.  He was going to the Academy of Arts, he had his
parents in Berlin and his friends too.  He doubted that he would gladly
leave Matthias, Ben nor Simon.  But then...

The closing of car doors disturbed him and he opened his eyes to see
Simon opening the gate leading to Sebastian's house.  Great, they had
come back from Naples just at the right time.  In a few days school
would start again for Nick and Ben and they all would return to Berlin.
But before that Marcus needed to have some words with Simon; he still
felt somehow responsible for him.  And they had shared a good part of
mutual life.  He smiled at both and rose to take the baggage but Ben
waved him off.  They looked good, deep tanned and smelled of salty air
and fresh wind.

    "Nobody here?"

    "Nope.  Sebastian and Leandro are at work, Danny elsewhere, Kay and
Nicki... I have no clue.  During the last days they had put their heads
together and chortled incessantly."  Marcus grimaced then laughed.
"They won't tell me what's going on."

Simon plopped upon a wicker chair next to him.  "So you're all
abandoned.  I suppose there's nothing for us to eat?"

    "Sure, for you some mashed potatoes and apple puree", he said
wickedly.  He knew that Simon hated those dishes. He was fed too long in
hospital.  He received a slap, but Ben understood the hint and vanished
in the house and kitchen.

    "I don't have to ask you if you enjoyed the trip, you both look
great."  Marcus eyes Simon.  "Hey, the people are piled up in lines to
have a look at the real Santo Bambino, do you know?"

    "No... where from?"  Simon laughed.  "So now it can work miracles
again, yes?  Perhaps I should visit it."

    "You definitely should."  Marcus said even if he wasn't
superstitious.  But sometimes belief could move mountains.  He bent
forward and took one of Simon's slim hands in his.  "You're look good,
and how do you feel?"

    "Good, Marcus.  I need to go for the blood test as soon as we're
home.  Doc Hardenberg is pleased with the results."  Briefly he thought
about the old discussion he once had with Ben.  'You won't die tomorrow
nor in the next years.  Understand finally.'  And Ben turned out to be
right.  Simon had come to terms that he had enough time left, after all
he was 'just' infected, nothing more.  That meant enough time to lead a
normal life and if he'd follow strictly the diet for another year his liver
would turn back to its normal function perhaps.

'Perhaps' was now not a word that caused him depression because it
didn't mean a 'yes' or a 'certainly', but was pure hope and the word he
clung to.  The effects of the tablets sometimes made him tired and
depressed but with Ben at his side he was able to forget it for awhile.

He felt Marcus' deep eyes examining him through his very being.  It
seemed that each one of them had grown and developed.  One short spring
and summer he had spent now with Ben.  But this didn't seem the entire
reason.  Marcus had significantly changed since he was with Nicholas -
for better since he had been on the verge of losing him for good.

Marcus seemed to read his mind because he said, "It was a long way."
And Simon understood.  He nodded.  "You never told me if you've slept
with Sebastian while we both were together.  Or what you did while in
Paris, London or New York."

Marcus pressed his hand.  "You know the answer.  We both had a good time
together."

    "But Sebastian was stronger.  He always stood between us."

    "Do you see it this way?  Well, perhaps you're right."  Marcus' eyes
roamed the garden without seeing it.  "He always stood between us,
right.  I couldn't free myself."  He fixed his gaze on Simon again.
"And then it happened once more and I lost Nicholas.  In the end it's me
to blame for your disease.  I should have known how careless you are.
How easy to seduce and liable for every kind of flattery and fun."

Simon shook his head in a determined way.  "Stop it Marcus.  There's
just me and only me responsible.  I wasn't exactly a child.  Perhaps I
should have sought for a confrontation with you.  Telling you it's
either me or the others.  Me or your work.  Although I didn't want you
to stop your work.  But you seemed so far away.  Mentally, you know.  I
was reduced to the body you needed.  If you were not too tired."

Simon's voice was without bitterness and reproaches and Marcus sensed
that he spoke out of memories that belonged to the past but had to be
spoken at least one time and then no more.  Their mutual time was over
and there had been some parts of it that had been thoroughly joyful.  He
leaned forward and gave Simon a kiss.  "Thanks for the forgiveness."
Both smiled at each other.

    "You know nothing about the latest events, honey."  And then Marcus
told him about their adventures in the catacombs, the finding of George
Rosenstock, the events at Luigi's Bar and the end of Cardinal Borghese.
Ben, meanwhile, back with a large plate of scrambled eggs, bread and
tomatoes listened with growing amazement.  "Heavens, and all this we
missed, Simon.  You could have made a novel from this."

    "Well, I still can", Simon said and his eyes twinkled.




Capitol Hill

It was one of those warm nights that had brought them all together.
This and Tasso's fashion show, protected by Nino Cerruti although he
could not be present.

The crowd was gathering.  There had been large advertisements all over
the town and naturally a fashion show held by Cerruti wasn't an
everyday occurrence although Rome was used to big shows held at the
Spanish Steps.  But a fashion show with strictly men's wear was new.

The place bathed in the characteristic soft yellow light that was to be
found at each important building in Rome by night.  The trapezium shaped
Piazza with the equestrian statue of Emperor Marcus Aurelius amid was
full of people. Tourist, buyers, curious people, inhabitants and last
but not least, full of journalists and camera people.

They were served champagne and salmon, and even Marcus had decided to
take a glass of champagne although he really didn't like this drink.
Nicholas showed distinct signs of nervousness and Marcus wondered about
him.  Next to their table Simon and Ben were sitting, whispering
together and holding hands.  Marcus smiled at them.

A shush was running through the crowd when Tasso appeared at the end of
the catwalk that was built amid the place. The floodlight threw a bright
spot light.  He was dressed as Lady Soffocante, a last tribute to the
old days at Luigi's Bar.

    "Now, signori e signores", he spoke into the microphone, "Let the
show begin!"  The people applauded.  "First of all some words of Nino
Cerruti I've thankfully received.  He regrets not to be able to take
part in this performance but you all know what his business is like."
The people laughed. "It's now my turn to say a thank you to Nino,
wherever he might be right now.  Although it's strictly his fashion
show, he allowed me to present some of my own work.  It's up to you to
decide."  He paused.  "Well, it's my humble expression that I'm in no
way a competitor though!"

The crowd applauded once more.  Tasso spread out his arms and said,
"And now, famous for Luigi's Bar, now at the "Fourty Seven":  Nando and
Christian!"

They emerged at the end of the catwalk, walking as self-conscious as
they had performed on stage.  Both felt the urge to drop their underwear
and laughed at each other.

Behind them they heard Tasso's announcements of Kay, appearing in a long
jacket, striped like a zebra and knee-length boots. Midway he opened
the jacket and showed his bare chest and the bright red mid thigh long
pants.  Just the middle of them covered his private parts, the rest was
translucent, including his backside.  Kay's cheeks were a delicate pink
but it wasn't to be seen in the bright light.  He bravely walked on
until the very end of the catwalk; detected Sebastian who gave him a
thumbs up.

Kay smiled and enjoyed the flashlights from the photographers.  As he
turned, he lifted his long jacket and gave the audience a glimpse of his
butt, shaded with fine translucent red material.  The crowd cheered.
More flashlights came.  Kay grinned as he met Nicholas halfway through.

Marcus choked on his champagne as it went down the wrong way.  Nicholas
had excused himself to the toilets a few minutes ago and now he appeared
on stage!  Sebastian and he exchanged an amazed look.  "Holy cow!"
shouted Sebastian.  Leandro laughed about their faces.

Nicholas wore a short T-shirt that left most of his arms free, the
material changing from yellow to pink and so was his skirt.  He was
looking like a young Tarzan, the skin gleaming in the illumination.

Kay walked by his side, reached around and opened the button of the
skirt with one grip.  The briefs matched the colours of his T-shirt and
Marcus took a sharp breath.  He looked ... he didn't know how....
great.  He just laughed and applauded like mad.

    "Are you sure it's your shy Nicki?" Sebastian asked.

    "He must be.  Or he has a look alike!"

    "That's our boys," Sebastian said proudly to nobody special.

They watched the next hour the other models, presenting Cerruti's
clothes and underwear, and smiled at both lad's performance.

Two hours later they all met in a posh restaurant.  Tasso had received
loads of advance bookings, not only for Cerruti's underwear but for his
own creations too.  It had been the ones Nick, Kay and the strippers
were wearing.

    "What an exciting life I'm leading since I've met you", Nick sighed
happily.  Marcus pressed his hand and smiled at him.

    "Mum and Dad would have a fit if they'd see the photos tomorrow in
the newspapers."

Marcus laughed.  "Perhaps they'd be proud."

    "Oh, no.  Me an ordinary underwear model!  That's over the top."  He
raised his glass of red wine to his lover.  Marcus watched him.  Then he
said, "Without you there wouldn't be a Ben, and Simon would still be
sad, selling his body."  He glanced over the table at the pair, both sun
burnt, Simon's dark hair bleached by the sun.  He listened attentively
to Ben, apparently registering and remembering everything in his mind to
write it down later.

    "And Sebastian wouldn't have found his love.  Everything started
with you.  And I?"  Marcus shrugged.

    "You would have the screen without me."

    "Oh yeah.  I would.  But what is it compared to a man I love?  I'd
still be chasing around the world, searching for something I wouldn't
find."  He looked into Nicholas' violet blue eyes.  "It's still like the
very first day, angel.  You and me on the street, the rain splashing
onto our chalk drawing."  They looked into each other's eyes until
Leandro snapped his fingers in front of them.  "Completely absorbed", he
laughed.  "This must be love."

Sebastian lifted his glass.  "To us", he toasted.

Eight glasses clinked together.






Epilogue

It was Autumn in South-Tyrol.  The figs on the large trees with the
finger shaped leaves were ripe to pluck.  Leandro had known figs before
but he had never tasted that ripeness fresh from a tree before, standing
in Daniel's garden.  It went well together with the white, creamy cheese
Daniel had prepared for them.

Lazily he stroked the young male shepherd dog between his legs, then he
groped for the postcards lying on the oak wood table next to the window.

His look fell upon the grassy mountains in the far distance.  The light
was sharp and cut the air like a knife.  Each contour was clearly to be
seen, like a cut-out.  The river Passer twinkled with tiny waves where
it broke at a mighty tree branch that had fallen into the water or where
it whirled over light gray stones.  He heard Daniel rummaging in the
kitchen.

He stared at the postcards from Berlin.  It was Nicholas tiny
handwriting and the other was filled with Simon's generous writing.
Leandro smiled and took another card.  It was a photo of the Pope posing
in front of the Vatican, embracing the whole world.  Only Kay could have
had this idea.  He turned it and read:


	"Hey sweetie, how's it going?  Have ou worn out Danny
	already? Everything's fine here.  I've got an offer to
	pose for another underwear collection, would you believe that!

	George has left Italy and returned to London.  His memory
	isn't fully regained but he has to come back to Rome to give
	his testimony for Cardinal Borghese's trial.  It will start
	very soon and is all over the place in the newspapers.  Well,
	he isn't cardinal anymore for the curia has expelled him.

	Andrea and Roberto are living together now, they have opened
	a shop where they are selling Tasso's underwear.  From what
	they have told us, they are making a million  ;-)  I ask
	myself if I shouldn't ask for a job there!

	Tasso and Luigi have moved to Capri.  Sebastian is receiving
	a card occasionally.  He says that he feels like old Emperor
	Tiberius, standing at his villa, looking over to the Blue
	Grottos....  I wonder what he means.  Perhaps we will visit
	them soon.  And you both, of course.

	Well, hear you soon, give my love to Danny,

	Love,
	Kay"


The photos, Nando had shot, had given the proof that Gianluca was the
killer for they show that moment when he had tried to pull the plastic
bag over Leandro's head.  Added with the testimonies of the strippers he
was found guilty.  Gianluca didn't deny it anyway.  He was broken.  His
mind had turned into something that wasn't exactly human anymore.  The
prison's doctors thought it was the effect of the Angel's Trumpets.
Leandro found it a matching name:  Now Heaven's Trumpets had blown to
the final punishment.

There was one letter left.  It was from Vincenzo.  Leandro had read it
before so he pensively waved with it in front of his face.

Vincenzo had returned to Volterra and his wife was pregnant.  Good for
him, he thought.  Then he shook his head.  "You are what your are.
Nothing more and nothing less."  He remembered Daniel's words clearly.
And Vincenzo was one of those men who couldn't change his spots.  He was
a damn coward, choosing always the easy way.

Daniel appeared with a tray full of fresh roasted maronis.  He placed a
glass with cooled wine in front of him and patted the dog, who still
hadn't a name.  Daniel started to peel one of the maronis and shoved it
into Leandro's mouth.  It was sweet and like a potato with a nutlike
aroma.  "What does Kay write?" he asked.  Leandro handed him the card.

    "Good old Kay.  He's still the cheerful lad we have known."  Then he
looked seriously into Leandro's eyes.  "I don't want to start our
relationship with a secret."  He lifted his glass and drank.  "We've
spent a night together.  That was when Sebastian and Kay had their
quarrel and we both had felt very alone."

Leandro wanted to say something but stopped himself.  After a while he
said "He saw you naked."  He put his face close to Daniel's.  "I'm pretty
jealous."  He started to smile.

    "Nothing more?"

    "Nothing more.  Thanks for telling me."  Leandro tried to picture
this in his mind.  Flashes of dancing bodies occurred.  But then he put
them aside.  There was time enough to talk about it later.

    "Uncle Emilio was pretty surprised about my decision."

    "So?  Did he say that it was stupid to give up such a good job?"

    "No.  Well, sort of.  But then he said he was happy for me."

    "Would you mind to visit your parents?"

    "My parents?  I'm not ready to face them.  Vincenzo wrote that his
wife is pregnant."

Daniel raised his eyebrows.  "Congratulations.  I hope he knows what
he's doing."  He peeled the rest of the maronis and ate a fig with some
white cheese.

The last sunbeams died outside the windows.  Rapidly it was getting
darker and cooler.  Leandro shivered.  He took up the puppy and pressed
him onto his chest where he started to lick at Leandro's neck.  He
giggled.  "He still hasn't a name."

    "What about Goodluckcharm?"

    "Sorry?"

    "Well... it's our choice."  Daniel sat beside Leandro and patted the
soft dog's hair.  "You make me happy", he whispered.

    "I hope you mean me and not the dog", Leandro teased him and Daniel
chuckled.  "You don't want an answer, do you."  He took Goodluckcharm
and sat him down onto the floor.  "It's like I've known you my whole
life", he said then.  His green eyes sparkled with desire and something
more behind that only Leandro could read.  He smiled at him and raked
his fingers through Daniel's thick, auburn hair.  "I still haven't
managed to count all your little freckles upon your nose", he whispered.

    "Why don't you start right now?"

Down in Meran the lights went on.


				 THE  END