The Borough streets, at that time, were deserted. It was a time of day that Piero preferred. When he arrived at the Pomegranate Tree Fountain, he saw a boy sitting on the narrow edge, poised, his feet on the curb, his arms around his knees, his head leaning on his arms.
They looked at each other. Piero thought the boy was attractive and felt the temptation to try to pick him up, but he didn't dare. The boy returned his glances, seriously, silently. Piero passed a little farther on; but after a few steps, stopped, and turned around to look again at the boy. The boy was still looking at him. "Perhaps he too wants me, but he too doesn't dare make me understand..." Piero thought. He hesitated for a short while, but then continued on his way, left the Borough through the opening in the wall near the restaurant where Gianni worked.
Gianni.
They had started a relationship. Beautiful. Gianni always giving him attention. Piero, little by little, became aware he was falling in love with the young man. At times, Gianni let Piero penetrate him and the youth couldn't say which he liked more, to take, or to be taken. He loved everything about the way Gianni made love. Piero let the other guide him and felt Gianni was at the same time his lover and his teacher. The more they learned about each other's body, making love became more and more beautiful.
Piero was happy and as a consequence, his quality of life improved. He was more successful in his studies, more available at home and merrier around his friends and schoolmates.
They celebrated their six months together.
One evening Luigi told him, "I've found a place, will you come?"
"No, thank you. I'm with Gianni now, you know that..."
"Yes, but how does that matter? I like you and I know you like me. Anyway, I don't want to steal you from your Gianni."
"No, really. I'm sorry, but you are just too late..."
"That's too bad. I never stopped wanting you."
"You didn't miss boys, all these months. And then, I'm no longer a virgin, as you can easily guess, anything but a virgin..." Piero said, pleased and giggling.
"What's the point? You two are not married."
"It's as if we were."
"But Gianni has other boys..."
"I know." Piero lied, but that news hurt him deeply. So, with some hardness in his voice, he added, "Don't insist, if you want us to remain friends."
Luigi left in short order. But to Piero it was a hard shock. When he was alone with Gianni, in his attic apartment, before undressing he said, "Gianni, if I went to bed with another man, would you be sorry for that?"
"No, you aren't a possession, my possession..."
"No, not an possession, but your boyfriend, yes..." Piero suggested hoping the other understood and correct his words.
"Well, we are not married, anyway."
"So then... you go with other boys?" Piero asked holding his breath and inside himself yelled, "Tell me it's not so, please, tell me no! Even a lie, but tell me no. I'll believe you..."
"Sure, it happens at times. Little adventures, nothing serious, because I like being with you."
"But... I'm not enough for you, then?"
"Man is polygamous by nature, Piero. Monogamy is just a straight man's invention to make sure whose the children are. But we don't have this problem, thanks to God. Hey! You aren't jealous, by any chance?"
He wanted to answer him 'yes' but instead he said, "And you bring them here?"
"Of course, where else? But, shut up, now, I want to make love. Undress! Come on."
Piero would have liked to run away, to leave him on the spot, but instead he undressed and they started making love. But to him, now, everything was different. It was not like all the other times. Now he saw himself, felt himself as just one of the many boys passing on that bed, one in many. This was no longer making love, it was just plain sex. And now the same Gianni seemed different to him. His kindness, his cares now seemed no longer directed to him, Piero, body and soul, but just at his body, one in many, just to get the physical relief that granted him his pleasure. He felt he was used, not loved.
It's true that Gianni had never told him he was in love with him (and he neither, to tell the truth, had told Gianni about his love...). Not even when they were making love. Not even that night, of course. And for the first time, when both of them were sated, Piero got up and started to dress.
"What are you doing? You aren't leaving?"
"Yes, tomorrow morning I have to wake up very early." Piero lied.
"We'll meet Friday evening?"
"Yes." Piero lied again.
But Piero later wrote a short letter to Gianni, a farewell letter. He concluded with the words, "Don't look for me, I don't want to see you any more."
Gianni didn't look for him. Piero went never again to the "Angelo Azzurro". For some months he didn't go anywhere. He plunged into his studies trying to think about other things. But the fact that Gianni didn't look for him, hurt him, even if it was precisely what he had asked him. It was one more proof that he was just one of the many boys of the handsome waiter. He threw away Gianni's pictures, all but one, the one where he was at the seaside, with just a very narrow Speedo on, because this was just the picture of a beautiful male body... he told himself.
Piero had made a complete walk around the Borough and entered again from the side of the drawbridge. He slowly walked along the street and passed a young couple, half embracing, coming from the opposite direction. He was again near the fountain, but now the boy had gone. So he decided to go back home.
He did find that home three months after he parted from Gianni, he thought. He had decided, he too, would have lot of boys to amuse himself with, but without any illusion of finding a great love, his Mister Right. In the beginning he could buy just a mattress, a table and a chair. But then, little by little he had furnished it and now it was his small but welcoming nest. The rent was low. Moreover, the year before, the landlord had installed an elevator, so that he didn't have to climb all those stairs. His parents came to visit him four or five times, a little more than once a year, but usually it was he who went to visit them. The first time his parents were distraught about the extreme poverty of the furnishing (notwithstanding there was now even a book shelf and three more chairs) and his father had offered him some money, but he refused it.
"Thanks Dad, but let me do it, little by little. It's a question of pride, perhaps, but..."
His mother insisted he had to accept that money but his father agreed with him with some pride. So, with his savings, he transformed his attic apartment, little by little, and he was now really happy with it. His occasional conquests, when he brought them to his place, said, "It's nice, here at your place." and that paid him back for all the sacrifices he had to make. In fact, for almost two years, he ate just once a day at the University restaurant (he did lose weight and his mother was rather worried), but he compensated when he was invited out. He accepted all invitations, shamelessly, because that meant saving more money to better his home. For those two years he did not buy new clothes or books, other than those for school, nor records. And to save, he also stopped going to the gay clubs.
At times, in those two years, he wondered if he had been right to leave Gianni. Their parting had burned inside him for a long time. He missed Gianni. Perhaps it would have been better if he was more yielding, more understanding... and who knows, but, little by little, he might have made him fall in love with him... But then he thought that he was right to have broken up with him, that he would have suffered a lot more by remaining with him and knowing that in that bed were crossing other boys, other bodies, between those same sheets happened other orgasms from which he was excluded.
Before going to bed, that night, he looked for Gianni picture. He looked at it for a long while, then he said to it, "Ciao, silly man! Who knows what are you doing now? Who knows where are you now?"
One afternoon on Roma Street, about three years after parting from Gianni, he met Luigi and learned that Gianni had moved to another city. Now he could look at Gianni's picture without bearing a grudge, without regret, without sorrow. That body, even though he had learned to know it so well, even though he had had such intimacy with it, now for him was rather foreign to him. "My first man! The one I offered my virginity!" he smiling ironically said to himself.
The following morning he went to school. The assignments for the up coming term were being posted. Then they would start giving the mandatory tests for graduation. He was assigned to a Florence High School and he was happy with that. Carla was being sent to Monza, but she refused because of her pregnancy, showing her medical certificate. Piero loved Florence. And not just for Michelangelo's David, but anyway went to see it no less than five times in those two weeks.
In Florence he also had a very agreeable adventure. One evening, he was at the Crisco, when he noticed that a man about thirty years old, hair the color of ripe wheat, never took his eyes off him. So he stood up, his glass in his hand, and approached the man, "May I sit here?" he asked with a hesitant smile.
"Of Course, please." the other answered with a coy smile.
"I'm Piero. Are you a foreigner?" he asked while sitting, struck by the man's accent.
"Yes, Hungarian, but I have lived in Florence for seventeen years." the man answered. Then he said, "By the way, I'm Martyn, with a 'y'."
"Hello, Martyn. I'm a Literature teacher; I'm here for the high School graduation tests, just passing through. And you?"
"I... I do nothing. I'm just the lover of a notary, a gigolo." the other sniggered. Then asked, "How long are you stopping here for?"
"For about nine days."
"So... we have a little time."
"But... your lover?" Piero asked, a little astounded.
"He knows that sometimes I bring home a friend and doesn't care. In the villa is a park, and there is a place in the park where I can bring whomever I want, without problems."
"But... are you in love?" Piero asked, even more surprised.
"In our own way, yes. He saved my life, or better, he gave me back my life. And I'm grateful and I will never leave him, until he dies... or I die. He is a little my father, a little my lover, a little my only, true friend. Without him I could not live..."
"Older than you?"
"Yes. He is sixty one, I'm thirty three. I'm comfortable with him. He understands I need, sometimes, something... different. So he furnished me a place, just for that, and told me I have to feel free. To him it's enough if I love him, if at times I go to knock at his door to be his man. And I love to be his. I love that very much. I wouldn't do anything with you if you weren't just passing through because I don't want to build ties with others. I belong to Andrea, my life belongs to him. Literally."
"Do you want me... to come at your place?"
"I'd like it very much, if you want that too. I am strongly attracted to you."
"You are so beautiful..."
"I know." he said, but without boasting, just as a fact. Those two words, if said by others, could have been conceited, but not coming from him. Piero smiled at him. Martyn said, "Want to go, now? I really desire you."
Piero nodded yes. They took Martyn's car. The villa was just outside town, in the hills. Even though it was night, Piero had the sensation that the villa was very old and beautiful. He said so.
"Tomorrow morning I'll make you do the grand tour, if you want."
"I'll like that, but in the morning I have to be at school."
"At what time?"
"At nine 'o clock."
"I'll bring you there with my car after breakfast. If you intend to stop here, of course." he corrected himself becoming aware he was almost imposing his desire on the other.
"Very good, thank you." Piero answered, amused by that mix of self confidence and insecurity.
His place was a small cottage, very graceful, furnished with taste, and with precious antiques. Martyn led him to the first floor.
"Here is the shower. I'd like us to shower, before making love."
"Yes Martyn, that's good."
"Together, or would you prefer to be alone?"
"Together is OK, it can be agreeable."
"Yes, it can be agreeable." he answered.
They undressed. Martyn had a perfect body, almost like Michelangelo's David. Just that his member was considerable and of a very different consistency . They washed each other and became very aroused.
"May I kiss you?" Piero asked, hesitantly.
"Certainly." Martyn answered with a smile.
Piero embraced him, drawing him closer under the water jet that was titillating their now clean bodies and kissed him. Then caressed his lean, quivering, strong, gentle body. Martyn seemed to melt in Piero's arms and slightly trembled all over, holding on tightly to him.
"Piero, I hope you'd like to take me, I'm not a 'top', you see." he said looking into Piero's eyes and waiting for an answer, almost holding his breath.
"As you like... and willingly." Piero sweetly answered.
"Let's go into my room. On the bed... not here."
They dried each other and, naked, Martyn led him to the king size bed. There they were united in a long embrace during which Piero took him several times, in several positions. While making love, Piero watched him, the Hungarian man had changed, he was intensely beautiful, radiant. The way he offered himself to Piero, giving freely, not passively, fascinated him. He thought that the notary was very lucky to have such a lover. And that he was also lucky to have been invited by Martyn to enjoy him in such a way.
He felt intoxicated, having that splendid body between his arms. Their tongues playing hide and seek incessantly, his hard rod so tightly and warmly encased deep inside his partner. Sliding in and out in the most lovely of dances. Their eyes were shining from the intensity of the pleasure they gave to each other. And then, they both came, with a long, deep, soft moan, trembling against each other, sharing the intensity of their pleasure.
Finally they relaxed, lying side by side. Piero again embraced him and Martyn cuddled up against him and intertwined their legs. Piero lightly caressed a scar the man had on his side and asked, "Did you enjoy it, Martyn?"
"Yes, very much. I judged you right. Would you stay here with me while you are in Florence?"
"But... and he?"
"No problem. But you? I can bring you to school, each time..."
"I would like it..."
"So you want to be here, with me, too."
"You are a splendid man, in every sense..." Piero answered. Then, with a conscience, but without withdrawing his fingers from the scar, he asked, "Does it trouble you if I caress you here?"
"Not at all."
"How... would you tell me?"
"Yes. I was seventeen. My parents and I fled Hungary. We were in Florence for six months. We were enjoying the freedom, we thought we were safe. But my father was a scientist and he knew important secrets. They found us. We ran away in the night. They chased us. They fired with a gun machine. My father was hit, the car turned over down a slope, into the fields. I was thrown out of the car. The car burned, my father and my mother... inside. I had fallen on an iron stake and remained there, pierced like an insect in an entomologist's collection. They believed I was dead and left. Anyway, they weren't interested in me.
Andrea was on his way back home, after work. He saw the flames and stopped. Then he saw me, I had lost consciousness but he knew I was still alive. He didn't dare touch me, afraid to do me harm. He run downtown to give the alarm, to seek a rescue party. He was back quickly with police, firemen and ambulances. He had moved half the town. They brought me to the hospital. I remained suspended between death and life for nineteen days.
When I recovered consciousness, the first thing I saw was Andrea's face, who said to me something at first in Italian, then in English. " Welcome back," he said. After that, I knew he came to watch at my bedsides every day as soon as he was free from work, and that he was near me every night. When the hospital discharged me, he brought me to his villa for convalescence. The doctors said that I owed him my life. If I had remained there just one hour more, they could have done nothing for me.
After two months I was his guest, I knew Andrea was gay. I too was gay, I am gay. And I liked Andrea a lot, I was terribly attracted by him. But I couldn't tell if he was attracted to me. I wanted to be his boy, but I didn't know how. Did I just tell him, "I know you are gay and I am too, and I want to be yours."
Andrea answered, "I don't want to be paid back, it's not that the reason I brought you here."
And I said, "I know. but don't you desire me?"
"Yes," he answered, "but..."
"There is no but, then." I said, "I want to be yours." In the end, he surrendered to me. And it has been really wonderful, because I felt he was in love with me. And here I am."
"In bed with me..." Piero said, and at once he bit his tongue for these inappropriate words.
Martyn didn't get upset. He just smiled and said, "But I love him, just him. I like being here with you, really. But I love just him. If he says go, I go. If he says come, I come. If he says I don't want you to be with other men, I will never, ever, be with other men, absolutely. He is all to me.
One day he said to me, "I'm becoming old, Martyn, but you are still so young. You must have others beside me."
At first I just said, "No, no way." But he insisted, and I understood that he would be happier if I followed his advice. So I accepted and he built this place for me and furnished it for my adventures. I accepted it to please him, believe me. Even if I can't deny that it is pleasurable for me."
"Sorry, I didn't have the right to say those words." Piero said.
"Why not? It isn't easy for someone from outside, to understand our relationship, I know. But now, let's sleep. Tomorrow you have to go work."
The period Piero spent with Martyn was really beautiful. He visited the villa and the estate, that Martyn actually ran and managed. This was a full time job. A far cry from being a gigolo, as he had said! The last day, he also met Andrea. All three had dinner in the villa and Piero was fascinated by the notary. Andrea was a handsome mature man, refined, elegant, a real gentleman. But above all was full of personality and humanity.
That same night Piero said to Martyn, "Your man, is a splendid person!"
"Isn't he?" Martyn answered, his voice filled with pride.
The following morning, Piero said farewell to Martyn, who had accompanied him to the station, then gave him his picture, "Don't forget me, even if we never meet again." he said with simplicity.
"Impossible, even if we never meet again." Piero answered.
He felt the impulse to embrace him there, in front of everybody, but restrained himself, afraid to embarrass him. Then, he put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a key holder he always had with him, with a little jade Buddha as a pendant.
"Take this, it is my lucky charm. I had it with me for years... it's your, if you want it."
"Thank you. I'll always have it with me. Farewell. Forever."
Piero watched him leave and saw that he was fixing the little Buddha to his house keys and was happy. Martyn didn't turn back to wave at him. Piero then got on the coach and waited for the train's departure.