Date: Mon, 19 Sep 2016 11:09:32 +0200
From: Guillaume Bacharene <bacharene@gmail.com>
Subject: My Lecture Tour - Part 3

Guillaume Bacharene

bacharene@gmail.com

This story is a bit of fact and fiction although based on some key actual
details. Some names have been changed for privacy protection purposes. The
mixture of fact and fiction is what good writing is all about in my
view. And, one has to write, above all, for the reader. A writer is an
agent or channel to get the words right and tell a wonderful story to which
readers can relate.

My romance with the US goes back to the early 1980s. While there are
exceptions as there are all over the world, I was totally seduced by the
general niceness of people and especially, the beautiful, confident and
sexy men who were totally enthralled by my accent and my brain. But also,
it was the genuine openness and way they expressed thoughts and feelings. I
had never had my ego so exquisitely massaged the same way ever. So, I am
1.80m tall, worked out and had what others described as ?model looks? to
the extent that when I was doing my first masters degree I had been offered
a modelling contract with a major fashion house in Paris. I thought about
it all, the money and travel, but figured I had too many brains to be
treated like a glorified clothes? horse and as some superficial entity who
had ?the looks? but nothing else. Added to that was what I saw as bullshit
?glamour?. I turned it down to pursue an academic career instead.

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My US Lecture Tour and Master Classes ? Part Three

It was 1983 and I was to have four weeks in the US doing a series of
lectures and master classes based one some research I had done. It doesn?t
really matter what is was all about now but it was held to be extremely
important. It was an offer that came out of nowhere really. Sometimes, the
powers that be of the universe seem to have a plan for us. This was to be
no exception. I was able to negotiate really generous terms with a week in
Honolulu on the way and then sessions in San Francisco, Chicago, New York,
Washington DC, New Orleans, Los Angeles and San Diego.

I indicated earlier about my first touch with America being the most
amazingly good thing for one?s ego. In each of these cities I was to have
an experience, which could read like a romance novel. It was heady and all
culminated some years later with me meeting the big love of my life, a
beautiful American. After 30 years we are still together. But that?s
another complete story I might also tell one day!

Chicago

The moment I first arrived in Chicago, I felt something for it as a city. I
fell in love. I can?t explain it; I can?t give you reasons. It is not the
most beautiful city in America although it is beautiful; it?s not the
biggest city in America although it is big and one first has to survive the
cauchemar, the nightmare of O?Hare Airport. So, this is by way of letting
you know that Chicago is for me, Num‚ro Un, the number one city in the
US.

Now, apart from all the official stuff I had to do, and I am not
complaining at all ? it was after all the whole raison d?ˆtre of the
trip, the whole reason ? I had a list of ?to do? things in Chicago: the Art
Institute of Chicago; Sears Tower; Hancock Tower; Lakeside Drive and
shopping or more looking rather than buying. It is the place for shopping
too!

The Art Institute is one of the best on earth with exquisite paintings ? El
Greco, Monet, Renoir - the quality is amazing. And another thing, the
people are all totally beautiful, physically I mean and so well dressed. I
never once saw anybody who was not. Rose-tinted sunnies perhaps? No. The
Windy City is the City of Beautiful people! At least it was then. Perhaps
it is the wind?

So, I had a full day to myself after I arrived. I was in a downtown hotel
and, modest and sensible we were, both me and the hotel. So I was up early
and raced off to do my 100 places of Chicago. I had woken up and for some
reason, thought of the Japanese woodcut master, Hiroshige, and his many
?100 Views of Edo? and all else he did in series of 100. Sort of a magic
number for him it was.

Sears Tower: of course, being high up in what was then the tallest building
on earth had its challenges. The cloud came in and after about five
minutes, it was all cloud and no view. But, at least I had been there and
had multiple cloud photos as proof. Art Institute: well, it was cultural
delirium, a figurative orgasm at every turn, pure and simple; utter quality
at every inch. I mooched with the Monets, waterlilies in profusion and
stood in awe at El Greco?s ?Assumption of the Virgin?, a masterpiece from
one of my most loved painters. It was quite overwhelming. Gave up on the
Hancock because I realised my first session was going to be held there and
I would see it anyway and I was to be taken for drinks there as well, above
the clouds again.

OK, so I didn?t really do the ?100 Views of Chicago? but, it was a cute
idea. So, I had a desperate urge, after a busy day completed at
Bloomingdale?s, Neiman Marcus and Macy?s sale, to hit the champagne. But, I
wanted class and style in which to imbibe it.  I dressed appropriately and
ended up on the rooftop at the Ritz-Carlton. I had a good book and my many
thoughts as well. America was proving to be excellent for my ego and my sex
life but figured, after two home runs, that would be it. Three times lucky?
Not likely!

I thought of Kevin in Honolulu and there was that instant association with
Pol Roger. I found a nice area where I could survey everything, both place
and people and the Pol Roger duly arrived with class and ceremony, along
with a selection of nuts and nibbles. His name tag said ?Jack? and
certainly, Jack did the bar, the hotel, Chicago and America proud.

?Good evening sir. I?m Jack and I am happy to have you in my section this
evening.? His voice was melodic, measured.  I began to wonder how they bred
such endlessly beautiful people. Jack could have walked right off the pages
of a fashion magazine like Uomo. He was flawless perfection. My cock
stirred, exercising independent thoughts.

Now, I am sure, being in such a classy place, that opening champagne or
wine even must be nerve-wracking. What if the cork refuses to budge or
breaks? But of course, Jack with smooth moves, eased out the cork, bringing
it back to subtle life and poured, one-handed, holding the base of the
bottle with his outstretched fingers supporting the body, never allowing
the bottle to touch the flute let alone allowing the champagne to bubble up
and over. It was one continuous pour. I couldn?t resist a compliment. He
smiled and said, ?Thank you sir. I try to do the best job I can.?

?Go to first place then, that was a master performance!? I replied. That
smile again.

His work station was close by and he stood upright, arms behind his back,
his long white apron, all immaculate and free of creases, like a white
marble cylinder; eyes constantly scanning for any client need. Classic
white teeth, another smile to do the sun out of its daily job and sea-green
eyes that caressed, beneath a haircut where not a single hair dared to
revolt. In short, Jack was also a pleasure to admire.  My cock again
confirmed it. And, he had personality but encapsulated in a crisp,
professional pride and authority. I figured he had to be about 25. Well
trained I thought. There were others in the bar but I seemed to be alone in
his station. So, it was quiet and Jack had time. He kept that short but
respectful distance away, ready to fill my flute when it even started to
look indecently low. I called him over.  He looked totally delicious close
up. He brought more nuts.

?Tell me about your favoured places and things to do in Chicago, Jack.?

?Are you an outdoors or museums person, sir?? The consummate professional,
I thought. He continued, ?I prefer nature so I get out as much as I can,
sir. I run and swim and also row. And you sir; are you here on business
and, how much time do you have in Chicago??

I quickly explained, realising that he probably had not the slightest
interest. But, I mentioned the Cloud Experience at Sears Tower and the Art
Institute.

?My Mom works there at the Art Institute. She?s a curator of Impressionist
Painting.?

?Well, Jack, it is one of the best art museums on earth. They must all be
proud of it.?

?They are. My Mom loves it. They love her.?

Other people came into Jack?s station and my private audience came to an
end. He had carried it off with real class and, I had found a great place
for a drink and excellent scenery, both human and environmental. Jack was
the star in my eyes. I sat and thought how challenging it must be for the
Jacks of the world with people coming onto them constantly. I had a pang of
guilt. Had I been coming on to him I asked myself? I tried putting myself
in Jack?s position, objectively. How would it have been for him? I had been
polite, empathetic. Perhaps he did notice I had ? at least in my head ?
stripped him naked.

As dusk began to fall, the lights came up brighter and as I sipped my Pol
Roger, I opened my book and started to read. I remember it was called,
?None Dare Call it Conspiracy?.  Jack came back to check the ice in the
bucket and my flute.

?Getting busy,? he said. Sorry I can?t talk, sir, but thank you. Will you
be back perhaps??

?Certainly, Jack. Where else would I get such brilliant service??

He smiled and the whole of Chicago lit up.

?Thank you sir, I really appreciate that.? I pushed a $20 note across the
table.  ?I appreciate it too, Jack. Thank you.?

Charmer to the end, Guillaume, I thought.

So, it was one of those heady and delicious encounters I came to associate
with America. I hoped but then, also knew, that when one scratched the
surface in America, anything was possible. I figured that in many ways, it
was an intellectual powerhouse but, conversely, a potential emotional
desert until one looked beyond the surfaces, remaining always open to
possibilities and chance.

The Pol Roger was again swimming in my head. Out came the book again. I
carried a book with me at all times. I read on, focused. My head began to
breathe in a different dimension.

Jack returned to refill my flute. The Pol Roger was almost done and it was
time to go. Jack did a little bow as I thanked him again and flashed yet
another smile.

?I hope to see you back again, sir. Thank you again.?

The sessions I had scheduled went really well including the one in the
Water Tower. That was followed by drinks in the bar at the top of the
building with panoramic views all round and then dinner in another
restaurant.  Afterwards, since the hotel was close by and it was a balmy
night, I told my university hosts that I would walk back to the hotel in
order to get some exercise and clear my head after a very long day.

I meandered along, looking at shop fronts and windows and then rounding a
corner, came across a charming and classy looking bar which had low tables
and upholstered armchairs spilling right onto the wide sidewalk. I decided
to have a coffee and a cognac and chose a seat in a corner, facing the
street. A charming and yet another beautiful person, a young lady whose
name tag said ?Karli? came over, introduced herself, as in ?Hello. I?m
Karli and I will be your server this evening,? and asked what I wanted. In
minutes, with professional proficiency, she was back with my espresso
coffee and cognac and a bowl of smoked almonds.

I took out my book. This time it was Gore Vidal?s ?Myra Breckinridge?. I
leaned back. The armchair was very comfortable. Closing my eyes, the bustle
of the city became ever more focused; a cacophony of sounds and smells. It
had been a long day and this was the perfect way to unwind and come back to
earth.

Suddenly, I was jolted out of my reverie by a familiar voice.

?Good evening, sir!?

I opened my eyes with a start and I could not believe it. It was Jack
dressed all in elegant black with a Royal Stuart tartan scarf around his
neck. He stood the other side of the barrier, as beautiful as a vision,
passing cars painting him in patterns of colour and light.

?Hello Jack.? I stood up and reached out to shake his hand. He smiled.
?Fancy running into you in this big city,? I said. ?Can I offer you a
drink? And please, you are off duty now and I do have a name: it?s
Guillaume and I do answer to it.?

?Thank you Guillaume. It?s my night off and I have been out to see a
movie. I?d love a glass of white wine please.? He came and sat down
opposite me and the ever-efficient Karli took his request.

He picked up my book.

?I?ve read this. I love Vidal?s writing.? He thumbed through it and then
put it down. Another of those melting smiles. His eyes fixed onto mine.

We clinked glasses and I swirled the cognac around, breathing in its heady
aroma. It sent warm shiver throughout my body and Jack added to it all. His
masculine beauty almost defied words.

?Jack, I really must say how impressed I was with you at work. I have not
had such impeccable service in ages.? I sipped my cognac and downed my
espresso.

?Why, thank you Guillaume. I really appreciate your saying so.? That smile
again. ?I do meet all sorts of people and not all are friendly and pleasant
like you.?

My cock stirred again. A question formed in my head.

?Jack, can I ask you a question and please, if it is too personal, just say
so.?

Jack leaned forward as I spoke, hands knitted together.

?Please do, Guillaume. What would you like to know??

?I was wondering the other night, watching you work, if you get people
coming on to you, hitting on you. I mean, you are extremely good looking
and if it happens, I was wondering how you handle it all??

He laughed and smiled.

?Well, I figure that it comes with the territory, Guillaume and yes, it
happens all the time. I am used to it and, while it is mostly men, I also
get it from women. At first I would blush and want to run a mile, but now I
just accept it as part of the service really.?

I thought for a moment. The question churning over in my mind had been
answered.

?The other night I felt a bit guilty that you might have thought I was
coming on to you, undressing you with my eyes, and then I got to thinking
about it all and how it must be for you.?

?Not at all Guillaume. I didn?t see it that way at all. I thought you were
being polite and interested and it was rather quiet at first in my
section.? Another smile. ?Plus you have a really sexy accent.? The volatile
fumes from cognac ran up my nose as I took a deep breath in.

I looked at my watch. 10:32pm. I ordered another cognac and a wine for
Jack.  He said, ?I am not holding you up am I Guillaume??

?No Jack. I am truly delighted to have your company. I enjoy my book but
talking with you is better. But, I am not holding you up am I?? I asked.

He smiled.

?Not at all. I am at work tomorrow but not until 4:30pm so I am a free
agent right now.? He smiled again.

?Can I ask you a personal question, Guillaume, and with the same deal. If
it is too personal, please say so.? He stressed the ?I?.

This time, I leaned forward, looking him directly in the eyes. Jack
breathed in, an audible sound coming from his open mouth.

?Do you find me attractive, Guillaume?? I was taken aback at the directness
of his question.

?I picked up my cognac, gave it a swirl and took a sip, leaning back.

?Well Jack, I think you already know the answer and yes, I do,
absolutely. You are an extremely beautiful and sexy man.?

That smile again and my cock was really reacting.  I added, ?A friend of
mine would describe you as a walking wet dream.?

Jack laughed and I wondered where all of this was going. I was about to ask
him if he thought I was attractive as well. Before I could he said,

?I like you too Guillaume, very much. Would you like to take me to bed with
you??

Now, this was a really unexpected turn of events. Before I could answer,
however, Jack spoke again:

?I have never been with anybody before, man or woman.?

I looked shocked and my jaw literally dropped.

?Are you serious, looking like you do??

?That?s just the problem, Guillaume. People always assume I am taken or
worse, unapproachable.?

My heart leaped out and I wanted to lean over to hug and kiss him right
there.

We finished our drinks and I paid the tab. He fell in step with me as we
walked back to the hotel. The lobby was busy with a large group of people
checking in. Floor 24 chimed in the elevator. I opened the door on my room
and allow him to enter first.

The room had an area with armchairs and a table so I indicated to Jack to
sit there. I opened a bottle of mineral water and brought two glasses over,
sitting opposite again.

?Jack, I just cannot believe that you have never been with anybody before.?

He looked at me and smiled.

Not only that, Guillaume, I have never been kissed even.? He quickly added
?Excluding my Mom and Dad and family members of course.?

I suddenly realised that he might need to let somebody know where he was.

?Jack, do you need to call anybody who might be worried about you.?

He shook his head.

?No. My Mom and I spoke earlier this evening. She is away at a seminar in
New York for a week. She and my Dad were divorced when I was six. He lives
in Miami and is some hot shot divorce attorney. We get on well but my Mom
is special. I have my own apartment under her house anyway.?

I stood up, not really sure how best to approach the unfolding situation
and certainly not wanting to freak Jack out.

I kneeled in front of him, taking his hands in mine and looked into his
eyes.

?Jack, I want you to trust me absolutely. I am not going to do anything to
make you feel uncomfortable. This is about you; this is your first time and
I want it to be for you and about you and to be very special.? He nodded
and smiled.

?Relax and trust me, agreed? This is a new experience for me as well Jack!?

?Agreed Guillaume.?

I leaned forward and kissed him gently around his cheeks and neck, around
his closed eyes, circling and then starting all over. Jack sighed and took
in a deep breath, parting his legs so I could get in closer. He moved
forward a little. He smelled of citrus - Eau Sauvage or some such fragrance
- but it was subtle, understated. Very gently, I brushed my lips across
his. He opened his mouth slightly and using my tongue, I caressed just
inside his lips. He moaned softly and tentatively, allowed his tongue to
meet mine. His mouth opened more.

?You taste of wine,? I whispered.

?You taste of cognac,? he whispered back.

I stood up and he rose with me. Pulling him close, I began to kiss him
again as I ran my fingers gently up and down his spine. His cock was hard
and so was mine and they nestled together, tightly confined. Again very
gently, I ground my pelvis against him in a slow kind of dance. He moaned
even louder. He was learning how to kiss really well and quickly. I took
his hand and led him to the bed, easing him back on it. While I kissed him
gently and continuously, he kicked off his boat shoes as I began to
unbutton his shirt and ease it off, admiring his smooth torso. He was lean
muscle, not overt but just perfect, with a light dusting of body hair. I
ran my tongue from beneath his ears, down his neck and to his nipples. He
shuddered and moaned softly as they hardened from the careful and delicate
ministrations of my flicking tongue. I resumed kissing him while his hands
caressed my hair and neck and slowly began to undo his belt, his top button
and his zipper.  He raised up as I removed his pants, his straining cock
gaining more freedom in his white briefs. With the back of my hand, I
softly strummed the length of his cock and ran little circles around his
balls. Then I laid him back on the bed, running my wet tongue down his
sides, around his belly button. He had a light fuzz of hair as a treasure
trail. I muzzled his cock through the fabric and it flexed against my mouth
and nose. And then it was time for liberation. Licking as I went, slowly I
exposed his cock and removed his briefs and socks. It was cut low and about
17cm long. His pubes were intact and silky. I licked around his balls and
shaft making him moan and sigh endlessly, his body writhing to meet my
every move. I licked around the head and then told him to lie back fully on
the bed. I undressed as well and hovering over his body, kissed him deeply,
tongues in a sinuous, impassioned dance. My pre-cum dribbled on his
body. And then it was down to his thighs, up to his pits. His cock stood
straight up, pulsing with each beat of his heart, wet and glistening with
pre-cum. I licked it clean and then began to suck him in earnest,
increasing the pace and intensity. His body began to spasm as his hands
worked my hair and scalp in perfect unison and matching intensity. He began
to thrust up with each downward movement of my sucking and I could feel the
pressure rising in his cock. It seemed to get harder and bigger in my
mouth.  And then with a loud gasp and a huge shudder, he came, all warm,
creamy and pineapple sweet and sour in my throat. I kept sucking and
caressing him as his intensity subsided and them moved up the bed, cradling
him in my arms and kissing his closed eyes.

?How do you feel Jack,? I whispered softly. ?How was your first ever
multi-sensory experience with another??

Jack let out a long breath through his mouth.

? I feel as if I am out of my whole body, I feel amazing. But Guillaume,
what about you. I am having all of the fun??

I kissed him.

?This is Jack time, not Guillaume time and Jack time has barely
begun. Let?s go have a shower.?

We showered together and brushed teeth and naked, I led Jack back to the
bed, the covers of which I had pulled down. I laid him out on his front and
began to lick his body and legs, running fingers and tongue down his
spine. I tongue-flicked his balls from behind and nuzzled his butt
cheeks. He smelled of lavender from the soap. Again, his body writhed with
each touch. I realised I had unlocked the secret to Jack?s physical and
sexual coming of age and he was proving an able acolyte. He had become a
masterpiece in the making.

Gently I parted Jack?s butt cheeks. A light tracing of fine hairs defined
his treasure spot. I ran my tongue up and down the crack from the base of
his spine to his balls and then, settled in to tease his pucker and
hole. His moans and tremors clearly showed what he was feeling. He was
tight and I tongued and teased, licked and lapped. Then I stretched out
beside him and rolled him back against my body, running my fingertips
against what had been proven to be Jack?s very sensitive skin and focus
spots. He turned his head and began to kiss me, using his tongue, his head
nestled in the crook of my arm. My cock nestled in his crack, hard, pulsing
and wet. It had needs but Jack?s were far more pressing. His cock was
straining again, demanding a reprise. I slid down the bed and after some
preliminaries around his pucker, taint and balls, began to use my tongue
and lips to swirl around his cock head. This sent him into delirious
tremors. His back arched and his moans increased as I stepped up the
pace. His pre-cum was so sweet and just kept flowing, adding to the
slickness from my mouth and tongue, his hands again in my hair and on my
scalp. And then with an almighty moan and shudder, Jack came again, the
same fruity sweet and sour. I again enveloped him in my arms, kissing him
deeply, his cum a shared treasure between us.

He fell asleep in my arms, contented, fulfilled. Early next morning as the
sun was rising, we did a repeat performance.

Thereafter, every evening once my commitments were over, I went to see Jack
and have Pol Roger. Pol Roger was proving to be lucky for me I
figured. Jack?s face always lit up when I walked in. What was already a
dazzling smile transported itself to another dimension. Of course, Jack was
ever the professional and treated me like all other clients. And, since his
night finished late, I had no expectations whatever that he would come see
me afterwards.  However, three nights before I was due to leave for New
York, as he was pouring a Pol Roger for me, he said softly:

?I have Friday and Saturday nights off this week. A colleague owes me for
standing in for her last week. I need to see you again. I can?t get all of
this out of my head.?

And then he was off to attend to others. With each refill, the gentle
conversation expanded a bit more.

?I told my Mom, Stella, about you and she wants to meet you.?

Another pause between clients.

?Saturday night I am cooking dinner and I want you to come.?

Another pause.

?And Friday night I want to take you somewhere for a drink, a place I
like.?

As I was leaving he said:

?Your hotel Friday night, 7:00pm.?

By Friday night I was really looking forward to the rest of my time in
Chicago; Jack time. My main events had come and gone and there was Jack!
Heck, he made me hard with the mere thought of seeing him again. I had a
long shower and dressed smart casual French. I also had Pol Roger on ice,
having discovered a market around the corner. Right on 7:00pm there was a
gentle knock on the door. I knew Jack would be like a vision. I opened. He
was. He looked radiant: dark grey slacks; slip on leather shoes, a crimson
shirt with a fine, light turquoise sweater and enveloping all, a
three-quarter light coat with a navy and crimson scarf over his arm. He
came in and enveloped me in a big hug and kisses and then took off his
coat.

I said, ?Just being practical Jack: I have Pol Roger here of course but
also what about eating??

He smiled: ?All taken care off. We are going where we can eat and drink but
it is a little different. It is sort of what the Spanish call tapas but it
is not Spanish. It?s American with a French touch. And, we can save up the
Pol Roger for later. I made sure they had some!?

I opened a mineral water and poured two glasses. We clinked glasses and
locked eyes. That smile again!

?Guillaume, you look so beautiful, so handsome, so classy.? Another
flashing smile. Your clothes have an edge.?

?Milles Chemises and a bit of this and that from Paris,? I replied, ?but
nothing ostentatious and over the top. Paris sales are wonderful! I never
pay full price for anything!?

?So Jack, about Saturday.?

?I am cooking in my apartment. We are having Pol Roger at Mom?s first. Is
there anything you can?t or don?t eat?

?Talk about asking a Frenchman a silly question!? Jack laughed!

?Good! I was thinking of duck rillettes with Pol Roger, beef marinated and
oven simmered in red wine and herbs with pan-seared new potatoes and
steamed garden vegetables, green salad, cheese selection and my cardamom
lemon yoghurt cake. How does that sound?? He looked at me expectantly.

?Jack even if it were McDonalds at your place and with you and Pol Roger
and your Mom, I?d be in heaven!?

He laughed and smiled.

?So tell me about your Mom.?

?You will like her and she will love you, I know. I told her all about
you. She and I are close and she has always been my rock. And, she had
never questioned anything. She knows I am thoughtful and never make rash
decisions.?

He though for a while then added.

?Stella, Mom, is gracious and elegant and very classy.?

I added, ?And that?s where you get it Jack.?

So, we headed off in to the evening, walking. People were everywhere,
probably doing what we were. After about 30 minutes of zigzagging, we came
to a very discreet doorway framed with plants. Jack opened and let me go
first. The space beyond was sleek and intimate with private cubicles.

Another American beauty came forward and bowed slightly.

?Bonsoir Monsieur Jack. C?est toujours un plaisir de vous revoir chez
nous.?

? Good evening Monsieur Jack. It is always a pleasure to see you in our
establishment.

?Good evening Monsieur Henri. May I present to you Monsieur Guillaume.?

I greeted Monsieur Henri in French and added a compliment about his welcome
and his establishment.  He looked momentarily surprised.

?Nous avons beaucoup de clients, French clients, et c?est alors un endroit
pour eux et pour Monsieur Jack. Bienvenue alors.?  ? We have many clients,
French clients, and it is their place and Monsieur Jack?s as well. So
welcome.

From the manner and words and timbre of the greetings I knew already that
Jack had real status.

Monsieur Henri continued in English:

?All is arranged just as you wished Monsieur Jack. I have your usual place
ready for you.?

It was indeed a special place. We had totally private cubicle at the side
with banquettes at the rear and sides and a smaller table set up in the
front.

M. Henri seated us both, side by side with all the flourishes and then left
us for a moment. I looked at Jack and bowed.

?Well, Jack, it is very clear to me that at the very least, you are very
famous here!?

Jack smiled again.

?I thought I had better claim my 15 minutes of fame before you lost
interest!?

Jack snuggled up. I placed my hand on his upper thigh. If fact, in the
positions we were and with a copious table cloth concealing everything, we
could almost have done anything upright with nobody any the wiser.

I said in response: ?This is my loss of interest!? and kissed him so
passionately he almost slipped under the table.

Once M. Henri realised I was French, unless he spoke to Jack directly, he
always spoke French. And, as a Frenchman, all my social skills came into
play.

After five minutes, M. Henri arrived with two flutes and the Pol Roger,
which was quickly opened and poured. Then the food began to arrive is small
portions, elegantly presented.  It was a series of taste adventures; some
unusual combinations like shredded beetroot with fresh ginger and caviar,
but wonderful, almost Japanese.

I complimented M.Henri and he beamed.

As we left and meandered back to the hotel, Jack put his arm through mine.

?I feel like we?re married already, Guillaume.? It was such a sweet,
heart-melting statement.

?You romantic you,? I replied.

Back at the hotel Jack opened a Pol Roger. Although we had already consumed
one bottle, all of M.Henri?s little dishes in a stream had worked
magic. Neither of us felt any the worse for it.

I was sitting on an armchair, leaning back in a slump and Jack came over
with the Pol Roger, sitting himself on my knees facing me. We clinked and
he leaned forward and kissed me, mouth all fresh and tingling with Pol
Roger. Our tongues met in a playful dance. My cock came to the party. So
did Jack?s.

Jack said, ?I?ve been thinking. You have spoiled me totally and this has
been all about me. I?m grateful because I had no idea what to do and when
and how. I guess I was your total and absolute virgin!?

Before he could add more, I replied:

?That was your time and tonight is your time also, Jack.? He took another
sip and looked at me directly.

?I accept but Saturday night is going to be Guillaume time Since you are
going to be leaving on Sunday afternoon, you are coming to stay and
checking out of the hotel. I will take you to the airport. Is it a deal??

I smiled.

?Ever the romantic, Jack. I love it.? Jack kissed me again.

?I am going to miss seeing you each day, Guillaume. I could get very used
to this! But, I am not going to be all morbid about it. I will write to you
of course.?

I kissed Jack again.

?Jack, life is about meetings and partings and then coming back for
more. The powers that be brought us together, wherever it goes and we end
up, but we have forever, these moments and, they really are forever.?

Jack thought for a moment.

?You know Guillaume, when I talked to my Mom, she told me to be happy and
cherish moments. And then she said that she saw a glow within me after I
met you. The other thing is that I feel at peace. I thought I would be
upset that you were going and I?d never see you again but of course, I know
we will see each other again. You have opened up a door for me which
contained the secret and hidden me and I am forever grateful.? Jack kissed
me again.

After Pol Roger had been put to bed, we brushed teeth and crawled into
bed. Jack snuggled up. We were both tired. It had been a long and busy
week. I held him in my arms, gently nuzzling his eyebrows. Within moments,
he had fallen asleep. I followed.

I awoke and looked at the bedside clock. 2:12am. Jack stirred. Gently I
extricated myself so as not to wake him and turned off the beside
lights. The night lights gave off a soft glow. I poured a glass of mineral
water and drank in down. Carefully I got back in to bed and stretched
out. Jack stirred and then he was enveloped in my arms again. It felt so
right and complete.

When I awoke, it was 7:03am. Jack was in the bathroom taking a shower. I
went in. He saw me through the steamed up glass.

?Let me pamper you Guillaume!? he said, opening the shower door.

I let him. He got me wet and then shampooed my hair, rinsed and rubbed
conditioner it. Then he began a slow soaping up of my body, rather like a
slow-motion dance, with feathery touches.  It was intensely erotic. I was
hard and he was hard. We kissed and with liberal suds, lowly jerked each
other off. Any concerns we had about soap stinging the insides of our cocks
were forgotten.

So, after we cleaned up and dressed, I packed having indicated to the hotel
I would be checking out early. Jack went to retrieve his car at the hotel
and with all business completed, I waited outside realising I had no idea
what sort of car he had. Of course it was all as might have been
expected. There was a toot and light blue Alfa Romeo sports pulled up. Jack
put my bag in the back and off we went.

?Real class, Jack. It fits your image, the young man about town!? He
laughed.

?You know in fact, had I chosen a car myself I probably would not have
gotten this. My Dad bought it for my 21st birthday. It arrived in this
massive blue box with giant ribbons on the back of a huge truck and I had
to cut the ribbon and drive it out of the box and off the truck! The whole
street came to watch. My Dad was so proud and as I did, my Mom and he stood
there, my Dad?s arm around my Mom. It was totally surreal since they had
been divorced for about fifteen years.?

I can?t remember where Jack lived in Chicago but it was clearly a special
place with beautiful streets, trees and gardens and large houses. We came
to a stop before a couple of tall gates. The gates opened and Jack drove
in, along the side of the house through the portico where the main entrance
was and to the rear. The garage door opened and he parked.

?Let?s drop your stuff and go say hi to Mom.?

A covered walk way connected the garage with Jack?s apartment and the main
house. His apartment was entered down a stairway as it was literally under
the house but had a sunken private garden in front. It was beautiful; a
real designer?s hand had been at work.

?Jack, this is truly exquisite.? The apartment was basically white but had
leather armchairs and books and paintings.

?You like it Guillaume??

?Very much, I am so impressed.?

?Well, that pleases me too. I designed and did it all myself.? Jack beamed.

?Jack, I had no doubts that you were talented but really, this is real
designer stuff.?

He gave me a hug and a big kiss.

?Mom?s waiting.?

There was a connecting door between the main house and Jack?s apartment,
off the entrance to his apartment but Jack said:

?We are making the grand entrance!?

We walked around to the portico and up the stairs. The door opened before
we even knocked or rang and there was Stella, Jack?s Mom. Jack kissed her
on both cheeks and said:

?Mom, this is Guillaume; Guillaume, this is my Mom, Stella.?

?Bienvenue Guillaume, c?est un vrai plaisir de faire votre connaissance.?

? Welcome Guillaume, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you.?

My jaw dropped. Her French was impeccable. And then I realised I should
really have expected it. Curator of Impressionist paintings; it made sense.

?Delighted to meet you Stella. Of course, I should have realised you would
speak French!?

Stella laughed. She was dressed simply but impeccably and I knew it was
French but with no idea who. I later found out it was classic Chanel. I
liked her instantly. She ushered us into a sitting room where there was Pol
Roger waiting. Jack did his professional thing. The house was formal and
grand but not stuffy with grand spaces and, it had very modern
furniture. There was a lot of Roche-Bobois.

?Jack didn?t say you spoke French; he was saving it up I guess.?

He laughed. ?I studied in Paris but also went to school in Switzerland. We
all did French and German. So, in a way I grew up with it all.? Stella
smiled. I could see Jack in her.

?So Guillaume, Jack has told me a lot about you.? I smiled.

?He has been singing your praises constantly, Stella so I am so pleased to
see it is all true!?

She laughed and Jack did also.

Over Pol Roger we talked about so many things. It was if we had known each
other forever. I felt totally comfortable and at home. Eventually Stella
said:

?Well, you boys go off and relax. If I need anything I will let you know
but have some time out.?

Back in Jack?s apartment, looking out into his private sunken garden, I
felt happy. Jack came up behind me and put his arms around me.

?Jack, this is truly a haven. Thank you for inviting me.?

?Well, Guillaume, you are the first person with whom I have wanted to share
it!?

I laughed, tousled his hair and enveloped him in my arms. We kissed.

?After dinner this evening, I have plans for you, for us and I want to save
up all our energies until then! Besides, I need to get cooking!? He put on
some cooking music, Schuman.

Cooking with somebody is not always easy but Jack and I managed very
well. He had a clear idea of what he was doing, down to a printed
menu. While Jack focused on his cake, he left me attend to the beef, which
had been marinating.  I transferred it to a cast iron, covered dish and
placed it in the oven on a slow heat. I needed a good 6 hours. I washed and
dried the salad things and left them covered and then prepared the
vegetables while Jack peeled potatoes and made a salad dressing.

?What a great team we are, Guillaume!? We were indeed. All was done within
an hour or so. Delicious smells soon grafted themselves onto the music.

Jack?s dining room was small but had beautiful appointments, notably a
1950s Arne Jacobsen dining table and chairs, design classics even
then. Jack spent a long time setting and dressing the table to
perfection. It all looked better that a top restaurant.

So with all the arrangements completed, we snuggled together on a sofa
while Jack selected music for the evening. It all did seem so perfect and
complete.

?I told Mom to bring the Pol Roger down here since we already killed one at
her place! She?s coming around 6:00pm.?

I pulled Jack close. He always smelled so nice although I mean more his
own, unmasked, natural smell. He laid me back and started kissing around my
face and neck.

?You are getting me all turned on here Jack!?

?I?m turning myself on here too, Guillaume. But, you?re right. Tonight, you
will be the main dessert!? He winked and smiled.

Well, dinner was memorable. Stella arrived with the Pol Roger and some
small smoked salmon pastries which matched Jack?s duck rillettes, and while
Vivaldi?s ?Four Seasons? animated the setting, we did toasts.

?A toast to Guillaume, the man of my dreams.? Jack looked me straight in
the eye.

?Another toast to Guillaume who has made my son Jack so happy in a short
time.? Stella blew kisses to us both.

It was my turn.

?To Jack first of all. Jack, you are the sweetest and most beautiful man I
have ever seen anywhere. And, to you Stella, Mom, you have not only brought
Jack into the world as a gift for us all but you have raised him with such
perfection. And, your total acceptance of the person Jack is really makes
my heart sing.?

They smiled. Stella got up and kissed us both.

?So Guillaume, you leave tomorrow. I know Jack will miss you.?

Jack intervened.

?It?s OK Mom. I have him ingrained in my head, my being. He will always be
with me, wherever I am, wherever he is. We will see where all can go and
what is possible.? Jack tipped his flute again.

?My travels and projects often take me all over the world, Stella to the
point I often dream of my own bed.?

?Does that mean you end up with somebody waiting in every place Guillaume,
or, left behind?? Stella?s point hit home but of course, I couldn?t show
it. She went on, ?A very handsome man like you can?t be alone for long.?

I thought for a moment as I sipped my Pol Roger.

?Not at all, Stella, as I am actually quite shy and prefer to keep to
myself. But with Jack, how could I not notice him and not want to talk with
him. He?s a vision, a true beauty??

Jack looked at Stella and said matter-of-factly, ?We haven?t even talked
about what might be possible yet Mom. Moving from one country to another is
not that simple. France is probably more liberal and easier but as I say,
we have not considered anything like that at all. All in good time.?

Well, Jack?s dinner was a triumph. Everything was pure magic and the
epitome of class and quality. Afterwards we had coffee in Jack?s living
room along with chocolates and Cointreau. Jack sat next to me and snuggled,
as he so liked to do, my protective arm around his shoulders. I kissed the
top of his head.

?You smell delicious Jack, just like the amazing dinner you cooked and just
like the aromas lingering in your apartment.?

Stella laughed. She looked at her watch and said, ?Alors, croissants and
coffee at my place tomorrow when you are ready but, I am going to leave you
boys to it for now.?

She kissed us both and Jack escorted her to the connecting door. When he
came back, he poured a couple of cognacs into balloon glasses and came and
sat on the floor between my open legs, leaning back and looking into my
eyes. The cognac was a perfect ending to a superb dinner. We clinked
balloons.

?Thank you Jack. This has been truly special.? His head ended up against my
crotch and my cock reacted. I could see he was also hard. We kissed cognac
kisses. Then with a certain urgency, we both finished cleaning the kitchen
areas and loading the dishwasher again and then had a shower together. We
had learned our mutual washing and cleaning had immense erotic satisfaction
for us both. We were both erect as we got into bed.

In bed, I enveloped Jack in the crook of my left arm and started to kiss
him, deeply and passionately. As I did, I gently massaged his taint with
the tips of my fingers.  He parted his legs more and then, taking my hand
in his, moved my fingers to his pucker, guiding then in precisely the way
he wanted. He whispered between soft moans:

?Guillaume, tonight I want you to make love to me. I want to have you
inside me.?

?Are you sure, Jack? The first time can be unpleasant.? He kissed me. ?I am
ready.?

He reached over and took a tube of lube from the bedside drawer, handing it
to me. I squeezed a generous amount into my hand and with Jack on his side,
facing away from me, began gently to probe his tight pucker. Running my
middle finger in gentle circles, with a little steady pressure, I slipped
past his sphincter and felt his smooth inner warmth. He began to work my
finger with his ass, finding the best spots and getting used to having
something in what hitherto had been a very private place. I lubed my cock
and allowed Jack to take control as I entered him.  It took a while but
eventually, I felt that deep satisfaction as my cock head eased past his
tight entrance. Jack moaned and began to explore the sensations from having
my cock deep inside him. I kept kissing him and with lubed fingers, began
to fist his cock. We got into a perfect rhythm, gradually increasing the
pace and intensity. His tightness was such a turn on. At that rate I knew I
was going to cum very quickly but I stopped and focused on building Jack up
through his cock. His ass muscles really began to milk me.

?Keep that up Jack and I am going to explode!? His response was even more
ardent and I could feel his cock and body tense.

?Oh Guillaume, I am so close and I feel so wonderful.? He began to moan
with each thrust. Jack shuddered and tensed and shot his load moments
before I came inside him, all over my hand and sheet. I maintained my
kisses and we remained connected, cocks softening in the delicious
afterglow of wonderful sex.

?Wow, wow, wow,? was all he could say. He pushed back against me. I licked
his cum off my hand, the lube adding to its sweetness. He licked some of
his own cum as well. It was a real bonding moment.

?I guess I am no longer a virgin huh?? We both laughed.

We took another shower and then we spooned as we fell asleep. Early next
morning I fucked him again, face-to-face, my fave position. His legs locked
behind my back, I could kiss him as we fucked and fist his cock again. We
were becoming well versed in the arts of mutual pleasure and we fitted
together so well physically.

I came but decided I wanted to suck him off and so did so before we
showered again and I packed my bag. Then it was coffee and croissants with
Stella, fond farewells and we were off to O?Hare.

Jack stopped at little coffee shop on the way since the airport was going
to be a nightmare and the quality of food and drink, terrible. We had a
mineral water each.  I looked at him. He looked at me.

?Thanks!? We both spoke at exactly the same moment in perfect
synchronicity. We laughed. Back in the car I held Jack?s hand in my lap and
gently rubbed the back of his neck as he drove.

?Just drop me at the terminal, Jack. It is a real nightmare of an airport.?
When he pulled up at the craziness of the terminal, I leaned over and
kissed him.

?You have a great future ahead of you Jack and I am proud to be part of
that.? I felt a bit emotional and so did Jack.

?Guillaume, no matter what, you will always have a special place in my
heart.?

One of the attendants was getting impatient so I kissed Jack again and he
got out to help with my bag. We hugged and then I watched him drive off. I
then had to deal with O?Hare again.


Epilogue:

I became a mentor to Jack. We could so easily have fallen in perpetual love
but the same challenges presented. In those days, the US, the gayest place
on earth, was also the most closeted and most in denial. It was well before
e-visas and visa waivers. You had to apply for a visa and if the visa
officer didn?t like you or even thought you were gay, it was a potential
problem, along with a million other issues. They didn?t give visas to gays
according to the rules. I had ended up with a multiple entry personal and
business one, the consular officer apparently thinking I was no threat and
had a prestigious series of invitations for my brain. Eventually, Jack went
to art school to study film and painting. He met an international banker
called Timothy about ten years older than him who Jack said reminded him of
me. That was so sweet. I did meet Timothy on a trip to Hong Kong where they
were stationed for three years. It was very clear that Timothy adored Jack
and they looked so good together. I could see the way their eyes made love
to each other, constantly. They touched and smiled. And, I felt so proud
for Jack. I saw him maturing into one of the most beautiful men I had ever
known, his model boyishness with an edge, transformed into a really
handsome package, who had everything, who deserved everything, including
absolute happiness. Today they live in New York after stints all around the
world. As Jack said over a glass of Pol Roger in London once. ?Guillaume,
it is all your fault for teaching me so well!? Another Pol Roger please!