That evening at work, Jaume had difficulty being as attentive and efficient as he usually was. His eyes, his thoughts, his mind were full of Kiril. They parted making a date for the evening at Club 33. Jaume felt a warmth in his chest just thinking that he was going to see the boy again, and was counting the hours and the minutes keeping them apart. To meet Kiril had been a real bolt from the blue. The boy radiated strength and gentleness, serenity and magnetism. It seemed almost impossible that such a splendid creature could really exist in this world. Even if he was still so young.
When at last he could leave the restaurant, he raced back home. Took a shower, shaved, put on a little bit of perfume, carefully chose his clothes, combed his hair. He felt like he was preparing for an important date, a very important one. He looked at himself in the mirror - he wasn't satisfied. He undressed, changed his clothes, combed himself again. Now it was all right. He looked for the umpteenth time at his watch and ran down the stairs - the elevator would have been too slow.
He passed Carrer de Sant Mus almost running, turned into Carrer dels Llops, crossed diagonally Plaça d'Espanya and rapidly walked in Carrer d'Espalter. He felt his heart in his mouth, he was excited as he approached Club 33. He greeted Eric at the door and was soon engulfed by the atmosphere of the club, swallowed by the multitude of customers that already crowded the disco, by the rhythmic music that thundered in his brain almost mixing up with the deafening rhythm of his heart. He scanned the place looking for Kiril. And finally he saw him.
Kiril was leaning against the bar, a glass in his hand. A spot light just over him made his blond curly hair shine like a golden, chiselled aureole of an ancient Russian icon. He was wearing the light blue suit he had bought that afternoon. Jaume stopped to contemplate him, once again stupefied that someone so beautiful could exist, and his heart was beating stronger than ever. Kiril was almost facing him. His expression was serene, very sweet, and a faint smile lightened his perfect face. His blue eyes, were the same color as his suit, but with a light violet nuance, shining like amethysts grained with a myriad of gold particles.
Kiril slowly scanned the room, until he saw Jaume. Then he broke into a delicious smile and Jaume felt he was completely melting, unable to move, to talk, to think, but he smiled back. Kiril came towards him.
"Hi, Jaume." he said and looked at his watch, "On the dot, to the second. And yet it seems I was waiting for you for a century. May I offer you a drink?"
Jaume felt the boy's hand lightly leaning on his arm and quivered with pleasure. "An orange juice, thank you."
Kiril nodded and they went to an empty table. "Sit here, I'll be right back."
Jaume watched him going to the bar. And he asked himself, how was it possible that the boy troubled him so much. After all, Jaume had always been self-controlled, detached enough, a realist. Kiril was really beautiful, agreed. But he was just a boy, and a hustler like himself. A more than desirable boy, it's true, but he didn't even know him yet. He was, perhaps, one of those handsome self-conceited, presumptuous, loathsome boys...
iril returned, Jaume's glass in one hand and one for himself in the other; and smiled at him. And that smile at once killed what little self-control Jaume had regained. His head buzzed, his legs slightly trembled. The boy handed him the glass and sat near him. They touched their glasses in a silent toast.
Kiril, with his sweet voice, velvety and warm like an embrace, said: "I am happy to have met you. Pablito and the other boys told me a lot about you. They say that you are the King of Sitges, the best one. At first sight, I would say that they are wrong - you are at least a god!"
"No, come on! I am just a hustler like all the others." Jaume murmured, trying not to let his voice tremble.
"Everybody says that you are absolutely the best. Everybody seems to admire you and I would like to discover why. Besides your beauty, I mean. You are the most beautiful man I've ever seen, really. How old are you?"
"Twenty four. And you're almost eighteen, right?"
"Yes. But I want to know everything about you, I want to know you well, if this doesn't bother you. Do you know that you really are fascinating? And that, with these clothes, you are even more sexy than this afternoon?"
They talked. Jaume told him about himself. His story, his good and bad experiences, his life as a hustler, the things that were important to him. He opened up to him as he had never done before. He laid bare his soul, an offering to an unknown god.
Kiril too talked about himself. He told of his experiences, his life. He told about how he discovered his sexuality at thirteen, when the captain of his basketball team in the college taught him to make love, and how much he liked it. Then, how, at fifteen, for the first time he fell in love with a Polish classmate, how for one year he had with him a wonderful sexual relationship. About how bad he felt when his lover's family had to move and they had to part. About his search for a new partner, and his discovery of Boston's gay underground. And how at sixteen he was gang raped by hoodlums, all night long, in the park. And about his first hustling experiences. About his family, traditional Uniate Catholics, that must have suspected something about his sexuality, therefore started to closely control him, to keep an eye on him. He told how one of his uncles, the youngest brother of his mother, offered to be his alibi with his family, in exchange for sex - each time Kiril went to bed with his uncle letting him take him, he was free for a couple of hours to go and look for his own adventures, and he would tell his parents that Kiril was with him all the time. Kiril accepted, so he could still have some agreeable encounters, but above all he could continue to hustle and to save money to flee to Europe. And now, here he was...
They talked for a long time. Then Kiril invited Jaume to dance. Jaume was not able to divert his eyes from the boy, who danced with a fascinating and sensual grace - he felt more and more attracted by the boy. From time to time their eyes met, and Kiril broke into one of his killer smiles, and Jaume was feeling his legs giving out from the emotion. After they were dancing for a while, Kiril nodded towards the table and they went back to sit.
As soon as they sat, Kiril whispered: "It's a pity they didn't play anything slow..."
"Why?"
"I would have loved to hold you against me, to feel your body against mine... I would have liked it very much."
"I too would have liked that..."
Jaume wanted to suggest to him they leave, and go to his place, to make love, but strangely he couldn't. Kiril bent towards him and gave him a rapid kiss on his lips. Then put his hand on Jaume's thigh in a light caress. Jaume trembled all over.
The boy felt it: "Are you trembling? It is not cold, here..."
"You... it's you who makes me tremble... You are too beautiful."
"Never as much as you are. Do you know that I like you... to die for!"
"Really?"
"Certainly. Take me away from here. Take me somewhere, where we can be alone, you and I."
Jaume felt a shudder of pleasure and anticipation: "Would you come... to my place?"
"Wherever you want..." the boy answered.
They stood up and left. They walked in silence, side by side. Their bodies lightly touched, from time to time. Jaume felt he was in a trance. They didn't talk, along the way, united in a kind of complicit silence. But in the mind of both, a thousand thoughts, a thousand emotions were piling up. From time to time they looked at each other and smiled. Both knew what was going to happen in a short while, and both were happy and excited.
They climbed the stairs. Jaume opened the door and stood aside to let Kiril pass, turned on the lamps, entered and closed the door behind him.
Kiril, was now standing in front of him, smiling. He put his hands on Jaume's sides and asked him in a feverish whisper: "May I kiss you, Jaume?"
They embraced and exchanged a long, passionate kiss. Their bodies adhered, squeezed against each other and at once they felt the other's erection pushing through the clothes, searching for a closer contact with the other's body.
Jaume slightly parted, took one of Kiril's hands and murmured: "Come..."
He guided him to the door of his bedroom, then near the bed. Here he turned and started to unbutton Kiril's jacket. The boy opened Jaume's. The two jackets glided to the floor. Then Jaume untied Kiril's bow tie and the boy Jaume's tie. They then started to unbutton each other's shirts. They didn't speak, but their eyes were luminous. As soon as the shirts were open, their hands crept under them to caress the bare chest and sides of the other. Jaume opened the edges of Kiril's shirt, taking it out of his trousers, and bent to kiss the beautiful, hairless and wide chest of the boy. He took one of his nipples between his lips, brushed, sucked, bit it gently. Kiril emitted a pleasure sigh and slipped his fingers through his companion's hair, caressing him and pushing his head against his chest. Their hands lowered to open their belts, then to unbutton the trousers of the other. Kiril's hands were first to lean on the other's swollen underpants, outlining with his fingertips the turgid member and the contracted testicles, through the light cloth. Their trousers slipped down to their knees. Jaume caressed the small and firm buttocks of his companion, then clasped each with one hand. Their mouths united again. Kiril poked about with his feet and pulled off his shoes then, without parting from Jaume, stepped out from his trousers. Jaume slipped his hands under the elastic band of Kiril's briefs and pushed down, bending to accompany their descent, while his lips and his tongue slipped down, down on the boy's chest, onto his tense belly, until the hard and throbbing member of the boy touched his chin and throat.
But at this point Kiril gently forced him to stand up again, crouched in front of him and with a single rapid movement lowered Jaume's trousers and underpants to his ankles, so freeing Jaume's strong and hard member, that jumped up straight, pointing towards the boy's face. Then Kiril, with one hand caressed the contracted testicles, with the other the beautiful member and put his lips on it. He parted them and tested it with the tip of his tongue, then, opening his mouth, welcomed it with a gesture of greedy sweetness, lightly moaning his appreciation in being at last able to savour the warm virility of his companion. Jaume shuddered with pleasure and felt his legs giving out as the boy started to move his head back and forth, sucking it and skilfully moving his tongue all along the meat rod, that appeared and disappeared in the warm receptacle of his mouth. Jaume took Kiril under his armpits and pulled him up, then gently but resolutely pushed him onto the bed.
He hastily freed himself from his shoes and of the bundle of his trousers and underpants, then looked at the naked body of Kiril who whispered to him: "Come..."
He pulled off Kiril's shirt, then his own. At last, both were completely naked. They looked at each other with mutual admiration, quivering, awaiting the first move.
"You are... you are godlike, Kiril!" Jaume murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Kiril shook his head lightly and his curls waved. Then he said in a whisper: "I want to be yours... do you want me? Will you take me?"
Jaume swallowed two, three times then, moved, nodded in assent. He went on the bed, lay over the boy and they embraced tightly, their wild erections squeezed between their firm and smooth bellies. Jaume felt under his hands the boy's skin, soft and velvety, smooth like satin, and under it he felt the muscles, firm and elastic like tempered steel, flexing. Jaume stood up on his knees to contemplate his companion's body. It was proportioned and lean, his muscles well defined and smooth, really perfect like a Greek statue. From the thicket of his curly hairs, a shade of blond just a shadow darker than his hair, stood up, really wonderful, solid and throbbing, inviting, a fine alabaster column.
"How beautiful you are, Kiril!"
"Do you really like me?"
"You are wonderful, perfect. I could have never dreamed of someone so enchanting, so erotic, so exciting. And you are here, with me, for me... and you are real!"
Kiril smiled, a somewhat shy and intimate expression, sweet and merry, and his eyes shone, lost in his companion's gaze, in a silent but eloquent offer.
The lightly but perfectly tanned body of Jaume made a nice contrast with Kiril's fair one, as his dark brown wavy hair did with the old-gold color and curly hair of the boy. Jaume parted from Kiril, knelt at his side, and started to caress all over his body, admiring it like in ecstasy. Then bent down to kiss it with quivering devotion, until he captured his beautiful throbbing member with his lips. Kiril turned around so that he brought his lips in front of the hard, beautiful rod of his companion, and started to suck in his turn. Then Jaume laid down on his side, fully savouring that passionate sixty-nine, their bellies pressed against the other's chest, their heads sunk between the other's thighs, their hands roaming on the back and on the ass of the other in a crescendo of wonderful sensations.
Then Kiril parted, turned again and they resumed French kissing.
"Oh, Kiril! How much I like you!"
"And you made me go mad. You are a tornado, you literally carried me away. It seems impossible that you are not a dream..."
"No, we are not a dream, you and I. Touch me, I am real as you are... luckily. I would like these moments to never end."
"It is the same for me. Let us not come too soon, please..."
"Sure, man's puppy!"
They continued to kiss, caress, suck each other, exciting each other more and more, almost to the point of no return, in a passionate crescendo, to then gently slow down, calming down, regaining self-control, and then to start again. It was really sweet tantalizing each other, that both savoured in fullness and were transported. Each of them was careful about the other's pleasure, each of them tried to give the other the best he could, in a kind of marvellous contest.
When at last Jaume penetrated Kiril, he felt like a king taking possession of his kingdom - that really was "his" place, where he belonged. While receiving Jaume, Kiril's face was enraptured, and he was in a frenzy, feeling him slipping in and out, in a kind of passionate dance.
"Ooohhh... finally!" the boy murmured in emotion, pushing himself with passion against the pole that had at last conquered him.
Jaume smiled at him, grateful and happy - he never felt himself so totally welcomed, and he felt that he had been created expressly to give happiness to that splendid boy.
"Yes, Jaume... yes... so... don't stop, this time... ooohhh Jaume, so, so... Ooohhh... Jaaaumeee...!"
When at last, in unison, both reached the top of pleasure and of enjoyment, unable to restrain themselves any more, it was as if time and space ceased to exist, and they both unloaded in a set of high waves, letting themselves be swept away by the flooding billow of their sensations. Then they abandoned themselves on the crumpled bed sheets, exhausted, sated, still tightly tied in a strong and passionate embrace, that little by little changed in an ocean of tenderness. For a while, neither of them spoke. They exchanged light kisses, long and delicate caresses, while their hearts had difficulty resuming their normal rhythms.
Jaume looked in Kiril's eyes and whispered: "You are fantastic."
"You. You are too. Until now, I never did... make love."
"We are the best in the world."
"I really think so... without false modesty."
"You are an untamed colt." Jaume said with a smile.
"And you, a thoroughbred stallion. Good gracious, the more I look at you, the more I like you!"
"The same for me. The same..."
Jaume felt his heart filled with joy, with hope, with... love!
He shook - not love! Enough with these boobs, he told himself. He didn't want to end up wounded again. That boy was skilled in bed, he was really wonderful, full stop, next line!
He really was magnificent. It was beautiful making love with him. But all that had to remain on a strictly sexual level. Possibly, also friendship, why not, as with Pablito, or Miguel, Juan, or Alvino. But he could not fall again into the illusion that love could exist.
Almost as to assert that, he said aloud: "It's good to fuck with you, Kiril."
"More than good." the boy suggested, looking at him with a slightly surprised glance at Jaume's suddenly sharp tone.
"You are skilled in bed. Your business as a hustler will be thriving, here in Sitges." Jaume added, almost so as to put things in the right place, and underlining the word 'hustler'.
"Sure. But I will not compete with you, be sure of that."
"Happily, or I would be ruined."
"No, never. You are special. The boys were right."
"Christ! It is already 4 a.m. I've never been so late, before."
"Don't curse!" Kiril gently reproached him, then murmured: "It will be better if I leave now, then..."
Kiril got out of bed, picked up his clothes and started to dress. Jaume felt tempted to ask him to stay for the night, to sleep with him, but said nothing.
"Will we meet? Soon?" Kiril asked while buttoning his trousers, looking at him with a shy smile.
"I don't know. Possibly. I'll give you my telephone number. Call, now and then. You don't yet have a telephone, right?"
"Unhappily not. I'll call you, in the next few days."
"All right. It is good to fuck with you. I count on it."
"You don't need to show me to the door. Good night, Jaume."
Kiril bent down to give him a kiss, winked at him and left the room. Soon Jaume heard the click of the entrance door. He switched off the light. He relaxed, covering somehow or other himself with the sheet. He still felt Kiril's good smell in the cloth.
"You are too beautiful, Kiril, too sexy... too sweet, tender... I have to be careful, you can become dangerous." he murmured in the dark, trying to find a comfortable position to fall asleep. "It would have been fine to fall asleep with you in my arms... Yes, I would really have loved that..."