Date: Tue, 27 Jul 1999 00:18:51 +0900
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: Nunc Dimittis 4

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NUNC DIMITTIS
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 1998
Written on May 8th, 1985
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by Antonio


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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"NUNC DIMITTIS" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic
scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family,
opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to
read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or
because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed
guest.

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CHAPTER FOUR

On December 10th 1936, having only acceded to the throne a few months
earlier, King Edward VIII abdicated so as to be able to marry the woman
he loved. I remember that the young people of Britain were deeply moved:
everybody was on the side of the romantic king, prepared to renounce the
throne rather than renounce his beloved.

England's youth wanted him as their king... but the establishment won
the battle, and Edward Windsor departed in voluntary exile, giving up
the throne to his brother George. I was twenty-one at the time and said
to myself that, if I loved somebody, I would renounce ten thrones rather
than lose them. But when I had been separated from Michel, neither he
nor I had a kingdom to renounce in order to protect our love.

At my Journalism School they asked us to write an article about the
historic event of the abdication. Mine was written in the spirit of what
I've just said, though in speaking of my love, I didn't let out it was
for a man. It was judged to be very original, but was never published.
One of my fellow students asked me a copy, because he found it very
beautiful. His name was Richard, he was the son of a baronet. We were
friends because he was really likeable and, although a noble, was not a
bit snobbish. Physically, he wasn't my type, though even if he had been,
I would never have tried anything with a fellow student. He often
invited me to his home, as some of the other students did. One day he
asked me if I would care to go to his riding club with him. I often went
riding when I lived in France and I enjoyed it, so I was delighted to go
with him.

Richard belonged to a really exclusive club, but thanks to his
introduction, I could enter as his guest. Not being a member, I was not
allowed to ride, so I stayed sipping tea in the lounge and waited for
him. After a while, a really handsome young man in riding attire came
in. He looked all round, nodded to the barman then came straight towards
me.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Yes, please do..."

"Your first time here, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Let me introduce myself: my name is Benjamin."

He said just his Christian name, which seemed odd, so I did the same.
His proximity had the power of arousing me very much. That young man
radiated sensuality like an aura around him. I chatted with him briefly,
trying not to show my dicomfiture. We discussed the weather, the
compulsory subject in England, and other banal subjects.

Then someone called him. He excused himself and left me. Even though I
hadn't yet got know him, I felt a sense of emptiness when he went away.
I stood up and went to the window. Several riders were training on the
manege. Amongst them I recognised Richard, unmistakable because of his
Celtic red hair, and then Benjamin too. He was riding with great style:
his elegance was breathtaking. I couldn't take my eyes off the
magnificent rider. It was a long time since I had been so struck by a
man!

Richard came back into the lounge: "Are you bored, Andrew?"

"Not at all. Who is that rider?"

"Benjamin? He is the best."

"Does he win competitions?"

"No, never."

"How come?"

"He refuses to take part in competitions."

"But why? With his style..."

"He says that competition kills both the pleasure and the sport..."

"I see... maybe he's right."

"Could be. But if he were to compete, he'd take all the trophies. So
it's better this way, don't you think? At least I can get a look in!"

"I'd love to be able to ride like him."

"I don't doubt it, and you're not the only one."

"Listen, Richard, is it possible for me to become a member of this
club?"

"Well, it's not quite that simple... To be accepted, you have to be
introduced by five members... I could be one, but we'd still have to
find another four. If you really are keen to join, you'll need come here
with me for some time, make yourself known... But I warn you: it won't
be easy, there's no guarantee, and it may take quite a while..."

"That's fine by me!" I answered enthusiastically.

At that moment Benjamin came back in: "Hello Richard, Andrew."

"You two have met?" asked my friend, surprised.

"No..." I said in the same breath as Ben answered: "Yes."

We both looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"We just exchanged names." Benjamin explained.

We all three sat at a table and started to talk.

"Ah, so you're studying journalism like our dear Richard. Do you enjoy
it?"

"Very much..."

"May I ask why?"

Then I explained to him what journalism meant to me. I don't know how
long I talked for, but when I stopped I realised that a dozen of the
other members had gathered round us. Benjamin began to applaud and soon
the others joined in. I blushed violently.

"It's a pity you're not a barrister: I would have placed my trust in
you, if I had problems with the law." one of the members said.

I was embarrassed. "I do apologise, I let myself get carried away..."

"Apologise? What for? It's been a real pleasure listening to you."
another said with courtesy.

Back home, I couldn't keep Benjamin out of my mind. His penetrating
look, his frank, sincere smile, his perfect lips... I saw again his
beautiful physique, lean and athletic, light and skilled on his horse,
as well in the lounge. He looked almost like... a king.

The following day someone rang at our door. I heard my mother go to
answer, speak with somebody, and then the door closing.

Mum entered the living room with a strange expression in her face, an
envelope in her hands: "It's for you, Andrea."

"What is it?" I asked, puzzled by her expression.

"Don't know, I don't understand. It was a man in livery, in a car with a
coat of arms... he gave me this..."

She handed me the envelope. Upon it was my name, in elegant calligraphy.
I opened it. It contained a single page bearing a coat of arms and the
address of Lord C**. In the same elegant hand were the words:

"Andrea Nike Esq.

I apologise for having had the temerity to ask our mutual friend Sir
Richard for your address. I felt I simply must write you those few words
to thank you for the interesting conversation you honoured me with at
the Club. In response to my probably facile question, you were so
gracious as to reveal to me the noble values carried in your soul. What
you said has impressed me deeply. Desirous of the pleasure of your
precious company, I pray you, if it would not trouble you too much, to
pay me a visit at home next Sunday, for luncheon at noon. If you already
have other commitments, I pray you to let me know and it will be my
pleasure to invite you at a time to better suit your convenience. In
anticipation of your gracious reply, please believe me

Your very devoted

Benjamin, Lord C**"

My mother saw my gaping mouth, my wide open eyes and asked: "Bad news?"

"N... no... read it."

Mum read, and gave a little cry: "An invitation to Duncaster House ?!
That's splendid!"

Soon great confusion reigned at home. Everybody was speaking at once. I
was dazed. I didn't know what to do, what to say.

The next day at college, as soon as I saw Richard I handed him the
letter and asked: "What ought I to do?"

He read it and said: "Well, good heavens, accept, of course! I've never
had such an honour. Did you not know that Benjamin is one of the King's
fourth cousins?"

"Yes, I know; that's why I don't know what to do. I wouldn't know how to
behave at Duncaster House... and I don't have the right clothes, and..."

"Andrew! He has invited you, it's he who wants you to be his guest. And
he's one of the owners of  `The Times', too! Surely you wouldn't let
such an opportunity go by? And for the Club, too -- he would only have to
propose your admission for at least a dozen other members to be glad to
second your application!"

"But, why didn't you tell me the other day that he... he was Lord C**?"

"Because... I don't know. At the Club we never use our titles, out of
respect for those members without them. It's an old tradition to use
only Christian names between members..."

"But does he know that I'm not of the gentry? That I come from a modest
family? That I'm a foreigner?"

"Yes, of course: he asked me all about you yesterday. He seems to have
taken quite a liking to you. He asked me all sorts of things about
you... and I told him. Did I do the wrong thing? Do you mind?"

"No... no, not at all."

So I wrote a card thanking him and accepting. Sunday I wore my best
suit, and drove over in my little runabout, arriving at Duncaster House
at five to twelve as etiquette required.

The door was answered by the butler, to whom I handed my visiting card
and said simply: "Good morning. I am expected." as Richard had
instructed.

The butler gave my card an almost casual glance and, bowing slightly,
said: "Yes, Mr. Nike. Please come in."

The mansion was a superb 17 th century building, and sumptuous, to say
the least. I was shown into a drawing room. A few moments later Benjamin
came in.

Excited, I bowed slightly and greeted him: "M'lord..."

"Hey, Andrew please! Don't let's stand on ceremony. Don't take any
notice of what Richard said. My name's Benjamin, and that will do. I'm
so glad you accepted my invitation."

I felt embarrassed but tried to behave as naturally possible. He led me
into another salon, where he introduced me to his mother, two sisters
and youngest brother. Then we went through to the dining room. His
father being no longer alive, Benjamin sat at the head of the table. On
his left, his mother, with me opposite on his right. Then his brother
and his two sisters, as etiquette required. Liveried servants began to
serve lunch. The entire meal passed with all the solemnity and ritual of
a religious ceremony. But the conversation was perfectly pleasant and
ordinary. Once lunch was over, his mother, sister and brothers excused
themselves and we were left alone. Benjamin led me to the library. We
sat down, he lit his pipe and we continued to talk.

"I was tremendously impressed by your enthusiasm for journalism. No, to
be more accurate, I was impressed by your enthusiasm, full stop. You
really are an exceptional person, and that's why I'm hoping so much we
shall be able to develop a real friendship."

I was deeply excited by the proximity to that man, young and with a
beauty that almost overwhelmed me. My head was buzzing and my heart was
pounding fiercely.

“You are too kind, sir...” I managed to say.

He looked at me, then laughed. I stared at him: half taken aback by his
unexpected laughter, half fascinated by the radiant beauty of his face.

“Sorry, but... I think we should stop being so formal. Let's just relax
and be ordinary, shall we?”

The buzzing in my head seemed to increase: everything was happening too
fast, everything was beautiful, incredible. He was still looking at me,
cheerfully, awaiting my reply. But I couldn't utter a single word. My
throat seemed to have dried up. So I simply nodded yes.

Benjamin was a true gentleman. In a relaxed manner, realising my
embarrassment and confusion, he started talking easily in such a way
that I could answer with just monosyllables, thereby bearing the brunt
of our conversation. So, I gradually managed to relax and regain a
degree of self-confidence. My confused state was certainly made worse by
the strong attraction Benjamin was exerting on me. I was completely,
totally fascinated. I can say that it really was a crush at first sight,
a real bolt from the blue.

But Benjamin belonged to the highest nobility in the land, a peer of the
realm, fourth cousin to the King, very rich, famous... how could I even
imagine, hope... And also, who could tell if he had the same tendencies?
And even if he did, how could I hope that I would be his type? True, he
had invited me, probably he had taken a liking to me; or perhaps he just
wanted to be entertained by my conversation...

All this pragmatic thinking couldn't alter one jot the fact that I was
utterly absorbed with him.

When, thank Goodness, I finally went home, I felt drunk. My mind was
elsewhere as I drove, and it is only because the Sunday afternoon
traffic was so slow that I got home without an accident. My family was
waiting for me. Even Carlo was there with his wife. I had to tell and
retell, to describe over and over again... they were all really excited.

But I could only think of Benjamin's beauty, his charm and his
likeableness.

I wrote a thank-you card that I intended sending by post, but Carlo was
so insistent that he should deliver it that in the end I had to agree
and entrusted it to him. To be honest, I had to try I don't know how
many times before I finally managed to write a card that suitably
expressed my feelings. In the end I wrote something more or less like
this:

"Dear Benjamin,

I thank you most sincerely for the kindness and warmth of the welcome I
received from you and your family, and even more, for your offer of
friendship. I hope that it can blossom and that I will be able to live
up to your expectations."

What I felt very important was that Benjamin wouldn't think that my
acceptance of his proffered friendship concealed the hope of receiving
from him favours or advantages, because of his high rank. What I didn't
yet know, on the other hand, was that Benjamin was a homosexual like me,
that he too had got a crush on me at first sight, the moment he entered
the club lounge, and that this was strengthened talking with me. Neither
did I know, at that time, that his mother knew very well what her son's
sexual preferences were, and that she neither judged nor condemned him
for that. Benjamin had told her about me and so she wanted to know me,
though her son had told her that he didn't really know if anything there
might be any attraction between us, given the fact that he didn't even
know if I was homosexual or not. But, he had said to his mother, he
wanted me near him as a friend at least.

I don't know if his mother had assumed that attitude of remarkable
open-mindedness, all the more remarkable in a person of her rank and
generation, simply out of understanding and love for her son, or also to
protect the family from possible scandal. Certainly, without either
Benjamin or myself knowing, she had engaged a private detective agency
to investigate me and my family. All this I was to find out later.

Fortunately, from that day when I was invited to lunch, and when,
incidentally, I had made a good impression on his mother, I stopped
going out looking for adventure, because I was totally taken with
Benjamin and couldn't think about anyone or anything else.

My twenty-second birthday arrived. As a present, I received from
Benjamin my admission to his Club and a horse. Our friendship was
growing and we met quite often, but our relationship was still only
platonic.

Benjamin wanted to meet my family, but he asked me not to introduce him
with his real name, so as not to embarrass them. So I brought him home
without telling them in advance and introduced him as Ed, a horse-riding
chum. My family welcomed him with their usual simplicity and asked him
to stop for supper.

Hearing he was a member of the same Club as me, they asked him if he
knew Lord C**. Benjamin answered yes, and added: "I've known him quite
well for many years. I'd even go so far as to say he's a very dear
friend of mine."

I held back my laughter with difficulty and noticed that Ben was
enjoying himself too: though he remained impassive, in his eyes
flickered an impish smile that made him even more adorable to me.

When Benjamin left, I took him home in my car. He told me he had found
my family delightful: "Can you imagine, Andrew, what a pleasure it is
for me to be among genuine, spontaneous, simple people at last... What
warmth there is in your family! I have spent a splendid evening and I
really do thank you very much"

He said those words with such a surge and such a truth that I in my turn
thanked him: "You know, Ben... I'm really happy that this beautiful
friendship is growing between us. I hope it can grow stronger and
stronger. I feel so good around you."

Looking at me with his usual merry, bright glance, he broke into one of
his fresh smiles that made him resemble a kid, notwithstanding his
twenty-six years, and said: "Me too, I feel very good with you. You are
probably the only friend who has ever seen me as a person first and
foremost, and not a peer. It's so awkward, sometimes, to be a Lord! It's
almost a prison. A gilded prison, it's true, but a prison nonetheless.
And you are like a ray of sunshine..."

Oh, how much I wanted to embrace him! But I was afraid of spoiling the
burgeoning friendship that was so precious to me, if I so much as let
him suspect my desire for him. The truth is that I had to exert
incredible self-control not to allow him to suspect my true feelings.

1937. Christmas came. It was seven months since we had met. That year
there had been the Hindenburg disaster and news of the terrible
Stalinist purges. I wrote articles about these two events and both were
published. I was in the penultimate year of my course. Ben suggested I
should join `The Times'.

"Ben, I would like to very much. But I don't want to be hired just
because we are friends. I'd rather join another newspaper."

"But why? You are a born journalist, you are smart. Why should `The
Times' have to lose you, just because we are friends? It's not right!"

"If `The Times' wants me, I will accept. But you have to swear to me
that you'll not do anything to make that happen."

He looked at me, serious, then said: "That's good, you're right. I
promise." Then continued "You really are unique. And I really am a lucky
man to have met you and to have your friendship."

For Christmas I presented Ben with a book on the natural and artistic
beauty of Italy. He gave me a wonderful typewriter.

At times it was difficult for me to be near him: my body cried out for
him, I was inflamed with a desire of an intensity I'd never felt before
and it was increasingly difficult for me to hide that from him. I never
suspected that he was feeling the same. But at that point, he too cared
so much about our friendship that, rather than risk ruining it, he
preferred to sublimate his own desires.

It was the middle of February 1938 when at last one day something
happened that solved the problem for both of us.

I was in Benjamin's library, waiting for him. Taking out a book at
random, I started to read. It was a private, complete edition of Oscar
Wilde's "De Profundis". On the first page was an autographed dedication
by Lord Alfred Douglas, Oscar Wilde's famous lover:

"To my dear Benjamin, hoping he can find the love I had with Oscar, but
without as much sorrow."

My head was like a volcano as I read and re-read that dedication:
perhaps it meant that Ben too... or there was no connection at all? And
yet the dedication seemed rather transparent...

I didn't hear the door open, nor I did notice Benjamin come in, until I
saw him beside me. I blushed and closed the book. Ben realised from my
blushing that I had read the dedication.

Hesitating, he said: "You read it, didn't you?"

I nodded yes, my heart in my throat.

Ben stared into my eyes and, in a low voice, said: "Now... you know
about me. I too I am one of those who... who live the kind of `love that
dare not speak its name'..."

I was silent, still unable to put my brain into order.

Ben continued: "Will... will this change anything in our friendship?"

At that point, making a terrific effort to speak coherently and to
resist my immediate impulse to fling my arms around his neck, as I was
considering the fact that he too was homosexual like me didn't
automatically mean he fancied me, I answered in a small voice: "Yes... I
hope so."

"You... you hope so? I don't understand..."

"Ben, oh Ben! Me too; I'm like you!"

He looked at me, at first astounded, then he brightened up and seemed
like happiness personified. He took the book from me, took one of my
hands in his own and said, his voice broken by emotion: "Andrew, my
Andrew!"

We embraced tightly. His lips searched for mine and we kissed. Our
bodies quivered and when we moved apart, we were both as transformed.

A kind of radiant aura shone from his face: "Oh, God! How many months
I've longed for this, for this moment. How many months my flesh burned
in desire for you, my heart burned in love with you, my mind had no
thought other than you! Oh, my Andrew..."

"And me, Ben? From the first moment I saw you I desired you. But if at
the beginning it was mainly a physical desire, aesthetic, very soon,
knowing you, it was transformed in love. And how difficult it has been
for me to hide it from you!"

"Why did we waste so many months?"

"No, they're not wasted. It has been a kind of long and unconscious...
betrothal. It's allowed us to transcend the simple attraction, the bare
physical desire, even though they are so strong. Now, finally, I can say
to you in full certainty: I love you, Ben!"

"Me too, I love you too!" he said with emotion.

We embraced again and kissed, and each of us felt excitement and desire
rise in the other. Our happiness was complete.

"I need you, Andrew."

"And I you, my love. But... we mustn't rush, now. Allow me time convince
myself that all this is not a dream..."

"You... you won't... come upstairs with me?" he asked almost stupefied.

"No, not now, not today. Now we know, so we have no need to hurry. Even
if I would like to unite with you here, straightaway, I think it would
be better for the future to give ourselves to each other little by
little. Today, our emotions would be too violent. Today I would be
thinking just of my own happiness. On the contrary, what I want is to
make you happy."

"Yes. As usual, you are right. Notwithstanding I'm older than you, you
are more mature than me. But... for months I've been wanting to shout
something to you, an urge in my chest, in my lips: I love you, I love
you, I love you! And at last I can say it to you without fear."

I brushed his cheek with my fingers, then his lips and murmured: "I love
you too, Ben. I love you too, and desire you and want you!"

We again embraced and kissed. Then he parted from me, slowly, as if
reluctantly, and said: "Let's go out. We have to celebrate."

"Yes, we should. Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. Let's just take my car and go..."

Thus began a strange period for us both: we burned with desire, yet we
held back. We caressed, kissed each other, but, notwithstanding the
passion that was devouring us, we decided not to take the final step.
However, our intimacy was growing step by step.

So, one day when we were alone, embracing, I said: "Ben, I can't resist
any more... please..."

He smiled sweetly, put a finger to my lips and said: "Not yet, my love.
Be patient until Monday..."

"Till Monday? Four whole days? But why till Monday exactly? What's
happening on Monday?"

"Be free on Monday. Tuesday too, if you can..."

"Where are we going?"

"That's a surprise. But you'll see that it's worth waiting; at least, I
hope so."

"All right. But we'd better to stop embracing like this, or I won't be
responsible for my actions."

He smiled and left me.

Those four days passed so slowly... But at last it was Monday and we
were off. He drew out of London, towards Canterbury. Arriving at
Sittingbourne, he turned left and, two miles later, he took a narrow
lane. He stopped in front of a small, elegant, Victorian building.

"Here we are, my love."

"What is it? Where are we going?" I asked curiously, "Who lives here?"

"What a lot of questions! It's one of our cottages. My grandfather had
it built. Then, on his death, it remained shut up. In these last few
days I've had it cleaned and refurnished: it will be our nest, our home,
just yours and mine alone. Come in, my love."

We went inside. It was really beautiful, delightfully furnished. He led
me by the hand on a tour. There was just one room left on the first
floor.

He stopped in front of the door and said: "I'd like to carry you over
the threshold..."

I understood and answered: "What are you waiting for?"

Then he picked me up, opened the door and carried me inside in his arms.
He set me down onto the big bed and lay on top of me. We embraced very
tightly and started to caress and to kiss. Little by little we undressed
each other, caressing with more and more intimacy until we both felt
ready and coupled without restraint, with no hesitations or limits.

For the first time, I saw his body naked: to my eyes it had a radiant
beauty. It was a feast for all my senses: my eyes glided insatiably over
his perfect physique, my hands touched all his silky body, now lightly,
now with frenzy, my ears rejoiced in the sound of his warm and sensual
voice, his scent, light but unequivocally male, intoxicated me, his
taste was the joy of my eager mouth.

It had been worth the effort of waiting, of holding back, to be finally
able to experience such intense and magic moments.

And that miracle happened that occurs when two persons share love and
friendship, affection and sex, strength and weakness, passion and
tenderness. That miracle happened, as splendid as it is rare, that makes
two beings a single entity. That miracle that makes you feel outside
space and time, so that only you and the other exist, melted in a
unique, marvellous, sweetest reality.

We passed two dream-days where the moments we spent united in love
alternated with others when we went on long walks, cooked, read, or
listened to music on the wireless or gramophone -- but always, we were
lost in each other.

When we left the cottage to go back to London, Ben said: "It doesn't
have a name yet: will you give it one?"

I pondered for a moment, then suggested: "Sunshine Hut. Because you are
my sun..."

"Öand you, my shining boy: so we are both in the name." Ben completed
immediately, starting the car.

But the surprises were not over yet. Back in London, Ben drove into
Cadogan Lane, a street almost half-way between my house and Duncaster
House. He stopped and we alighted from the car. We entered a front door
and went up to the first floor.

Ben took out a key and holding it out to me, said: "Open that door."

We entered a small apartment. The rooms were empty.

"This is my gift. You can furnish it how you like. This will be our city
hideaway. Do you like it?"

"But, Ben... don't you think this is going a bit over the top?"

"No. It's good to have our own place here in the city too, just yours
and mine. And I want you to furnish this one, just as I furnished the
other one. I'll arrange for you to meet a friend of mine, an interior
designer. You explain to him what you want, and he will take care of
everything. And don't worry about the money. Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful. But I... I... I have nothing to give you..."

"Silly boy! You have yourself and you have made me a priceless gift:
your love and yourself."

"But you too; you have given me the same gift. So we're not even..."

"Listen: if you give me a thousand million pounds, and I give you the
same sum, plus sixpence more, can you really say that my gift is bigger
than yours?"

I laughed. "Ben, oh Ben! You make everything seem so simple..."

"Hurrah! At last it's my turn to be right for once!" Ben answered
merrily and closed my mouth with a kiss full of passion.

So, when I had finished furnishing the apartment, I brought Ben and led
him in. He was really delighted with what I'd done. So we inaugurated it
as we had done the cottage, but this time it was my turn to carry him in
my arms into our bedroom.

The same year Ben made me another important gift: in Italy my family was
considered as exiled and, not having obeyed my call-up, I was considered
a deserter. So Dad applied for British citizenship, but the file was
progressing very slowly. Thanks to Ben's interest, we were granted
British citizenship on 18th March 1938, and we renounced our Italian
nationality.

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 5

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In my home page I've put some of my stories. If someone wants to read
them, the URL is

http://www.geocities.com/~andrejkoymasky/

If you want to send me your feedback, send a e-mail to
andrejkoymasky@geocities.com

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