The Alchemy of an Encounter
by Lowell Mitford
Chapter
1 - Marbella
For
Aurelio and his twenty-six year old outside accountant Aristeas, the mid-year review
of Benicio's finances was taking longer than usual. This was the third full
day, and it was already mid-July. Aurelio's allergy to air conditioning meant
that meeting in the relative coolness of the cabaña, which was open on three
sides and faced the pool, was a necessity. Numerous fans hummed between the
billowing curtains.
In view
of the unforgiving Spanish sun, Aurelio had urged Aristeas to forego the
customary business attire, but his conservative accountant relented only so far
as to wear sandals with his summer suit. Aurelio himself wore each day a little
less – going from informal shirt and slacks on Wednesday, to T-shirt and shorts
on Thursday. Today he wore lemon yellow swim trunks and the thinnest of
ventilated wife-beaters – white and pale green. Tall, hairy, leonine, Aurelio
looked as though he could rip off his spectacles and dive into the inviting
pool at any moment. In the armchair next to him, the young blond account
manager sweated into his pale vanilla summer suit. He looked miserable.
Perspiration dampened his curly hair and trickled into his light beard and
moustache.
As
Aurelio had predicted, the review had been a "ball-breaker." The first day they
had covered Benicio's film, TV and endorsement revenues, and yesterday his
production company. This last day was to wrap up Benicio's personal expenses
for the compound – unusually exorbitant in supporting the life styles of eight
single men. While Aurelio reviewed numbers over his half glasses, Aristeas had
nothing to do but await the next question, sip more water, and await the next
question. He had already been to the restroom twice and hated to ask again. And
he had nowhere to rest his eyes but on the hairy legs and taut belly of the
thirty-eight year old business manager, for three years his most important
client. Aristeas tried to focus his thoughts on his upcoming wedding less than
six weeks away. Perhaps this would make his piss hard-on depart.
Aurelio
was not really thinking of Ari. Aurelio, who had seduced many men, would later
think of this campaign as his most covert, not only successfully concealing his
tactics from Ari but astonishing even himself. Living in the compound in the
shadow of Benicio's celebrity afforded Aurelio frequent opportunities to meet
handsome men. They came and went quickly – often barely remarked. The business
manager had appraised Ari's youth and apparent innocence at their first
meeting, and thought, "I need a good accountant much more than a boy toy."
As
Aristeas had hoped Aurelio did not mention luncheon; instead, a tray of
sandwiches, shrimp and limeade appeared as if by magic, left within his easy
reach. Out of politeness, Ari waited for
Aurelio to look up before reaching. Aurelio smiled through perfect teeth, and
said "Claro! I think we are about finished."
"Truly,
Don Aurelio?" asked Ari. "I can do the car depreciation back at the office."
Maria Pia was hoping I could swing by to plan more wedding details."
"You
mean, to nod yes to her decisions?" laughed Aurelio. After all, it's going to
be her special day."
"It's
not a first wedding for her, Don Aurelio. But she wants to involved Clemencia
as much as possible. Already the eight-year old treats me like a father. And
it's special for me too. I was never sure I'd be getting married."
"But
why?" asked Aurelio, genuinely amazed. "Last-minute jitters? You've worked too hard to succumb to casual
temptations." He took a mouthful of cucumber sandwich.
Aristeas
peeled a shrimp. "Really just doubts about myself. I never lived with another
girl before Pia. And she is such a pro. She handles everything."
"Well,"
replied Aurelio jokingly, "If you're planning a mistress, the decent thing is
to wait until after the honeymoon." He nudged Ari's leg with his bare foot.
"It's
not like that. I want to be a good husband. It's just – so much of life seems
like it's left unexplored. Foreclosed."
"So
what's bothering you? You know I'm not just Beni's business manager. I trained as a therapist."
Ari
began slowly, tentatively. "You know, when I was conceived, my father was already
old. Then he died when I was young. My mamá did an excellent job for me. But
without a husband. Without a father. I've never been held by a man, even."
"Would
it help if I held you?" Aurelio asked gravely.
"Yes,"
Ari half-whispered, half-sobbed.
Aurelio
rose and looked at Ari, tilting his head to the right. The sudden turn in the
conversation had shocked him, and he tried to make light of a situation which
for him was anything but new.
"Cuidado,
muchacho. I'm an
excellent teacher, but nothing that will help with a marriage. And if I hold
you, I might not let you go."
Ari
rushed in to embrace Aurelio like a thirsty man. Like a man who had just been
rescued. He burst into embarrassed sobs. Aurelio held him tightly, stroking the
back of Ari's neck more like a son than a lover, as the sobs continued. They
stood like that a long time. The kiss, when it came, lasted just as long.
Ari's
sobs subsided, but the strident erection he pressed against Aurelio did not.
His head rested naturally against Aurelio's neck. Aurelio skillfully passed his
fingers down the middle of Ari's back and with three fingers lightly grazed the
cleft between Ari's cheeks through the tight fabric of the damp suit,
triggering Ari's sudden orgasm.
"Hay,
el culo!" Ari
shouted. He swayed as if shaken by a god, gasping for breath.
After a
long moment the older man sighed. "Take off the suit - it's soaked," he said.
"And plan to stay over tonight. What you need to learn can't be taught in an
afternoon. I'll get you some shorts from the big house."
Ari
collapsed back into his chair as Aurelio walked away. He quickly returned in a
fresh pair of lime green boxers, as
Aristeas peeled off the sticky suit.
"The
briefs too, demanded Aurelio. I've been watching that wet spot soaking though
your crotch all morning."
Ari
turned back after a quick strip and pressed his own reinvigorated erection
against Aurelio's hairy belly, leaving a glistening trail. Aurelio embraced him
firmly, looked deep into Ari's eyes, and kissed him hard, bruising Ari's lips
with his teeth. "Into the pool, muchacho," Aurelio ordered. As Ari joyfully
splashed into the welcoming waters of the Infinity pool, Aurelio rapidly lifted
the stopper of the olive oil cruet next to the shrimp, bathing the three middle
fingers of his right hand. Then, holding them carefully aloft, he strode round
the pool to meet the swimmer, scooping up a bath towel which he then tossed to
Ari. Preoccupied with drying his hair and crotch, Ari failed to notice Aurelio
swiftly bring his fingers down to Ari's buttocks, then quickly inserting the
middle and index fingers deep in Ari's ass.
"Stop,
you crazy man!" hissed Ari. "You'll make me come again!"
"You'll do
no such thing," growled Aurelio. "Not on my watch. First lesson of the day–
delay gratification!" And with that Aurelio, with the confidence of a corsair,
frog-marched the shocked younger man, still nude, up the steps into the house.
Victor
and Pedro, the house handymen, had seen much working at the compound, but
nothing quite like the stripped and dripping accountant with the erection,
borne ahead of Aurelio like a trophy.
"Chicos,"
said Aurelio, "Don Aristeas and I will be working a little late. Two more for
dinner." And so saying he escorted Ari upstairs, red-faced, to the master
suite.
As Ari
climbed the stairs, perplexed and embarrassed, he wondered what demons he had
so unthinkingly invoked. Why had Aurelio done this so publicly? Did Aurelio
care about him at all? It seemed to him his self-indulgent client had been
risking nothing, while he, in sharing long-buried feelings, had put his
reputation, his professional life, and above all, his marriage on the line. But
what were his true feelings? He looked down at his raging erection, bouncing
and leaking on the cool tiles, and his eyes blurred with tears. There seemed to
be no doubt as to how he felt.
The
interior of Benicio's suite was dark and cool. As the accountant's eyes tried
focus in the dim light Aurelio tore the coverlet from the king-sized bed.
"Don
Aurelio," Ari whispered. "What's going on? What happens now? I'm not ready."
"I
know," responded the older man, and half-pushed, half slung Ari onto the cool
sheets, where he landed belly first. "So now the next lesson – in grooming you
for your partner." He slipped into the restroom, and returned with a dish of
shaving soap, a brush, and a gleaming chrome razor. Grasping the accountant's
pale, shivering hips in his muscular, hairy arms, he hauled Ari up on all
fours, planting a deep kiss in the recesses of the younger man's ass crack. Ari
moaned, recalling the words of Saint Theresa, "It was the sweetest caressing of
the soul by God."
Aurelio,
now nude, whispered in Ari's ear, "Not everyone enjoys olive oil back there.
But me – I'm Mediterranean." Laughing softly, he began to apply the warm
shaving soap with the brush, nudging Ari with his knee into a shaft of light
that lit the golden hairs coating Ari's crack, his taint, and the golden
strands coating his balls. Thrusting Ari's head down on the bed with his
powerful left hand, and slipping a soft towel under Ari's privates, Aurelio
murmured, "Now you need to hold still more than you have ever held in your
young life. My eyes are old. And razors slip."
"But-but
– if you shave me – what about my honeymoon? Pia will suspect."
Aurelio
laughed. "Suspect what, that you became a gentlemen for her out of modesty? And
I doubt you will present yourself in this position."
A few
minutes under Aurelio's practiced hand, and Ari's smooth, denuded balls, taint
and crack gleamed. Aurelio slapped Ari's butt cheek playfully. "Now where did I
leave off? Ah – here's our place," said Aurelio, and began to bathe Ari's
rectum with his tongue, with infinite tenderness and slowness. Ari strained to
reach the pillow so his moaning, growing louder, could not be heard. Aurelio
burrowed further, spreading Ari's cheeks until he felt torn almost in half. The
tongue lashing seemed to go on and on, and sent shafts of ice and fire all the
way through Ari's body.
When Ari
was utterly relaxed – so relaxed he was almost asleep on his knees – Aurelio
again whispered urging him not to move. He retrieved another small vial of oil
and a gleaming blunted dagger in molded and faceted crystal (one of Benicio's
many film awards) from the dresser. He appeared to know the room well. Warming
the oil with his hands he applied a little more to Ari's anus. Then, inch by
inch, he began to insert the cool faceted glass into Ari's ass. Ari's erection
returned in full force, and strained against the sheets, leaking. He remembered
alternately panting and invoking God and His saints – in vain. After several
insertions, Aurelio skillfully angled the thick ribbed glass deep inside Ari,
so that it grazed his prostate. Ari gave a full - throated cry, and his rectum
involuntarily clenched against the warming invader. Aurelio quickly withdrew
the glass, then – when Ari was still once more, returned it to the same depth
and angle, again bringing the faceted glass against the smooth wall of Ari's
prostate in a minute sawing motion. In a climactic frenzy, Ari began to come,
shooting load after load against the pillows and sheets, his face a silent
rictus. Withdrawing the toy, Aurelio clasped him tight, then shifted his weight
and his own powerful sex against Ari's smooth back as Ari fell into blissful
sleep.
As Ari
slumbered at his side, Aurelio studied intently the face of the young man he
imagined he would not see again. He loved this part – sacrificing sleep to
study the face of the absent, sleeping beauty, rendered more beautiful by the
absence of pain or desire. He felt himself to be not Aurelio but Aurora, and
this his Endymion by moonlight. Ari slept mostly without moving, with
occasional quiet, fitful snoring. The last brief snore turned into a cough,
awakening him, and he sat bolt upright, suddenly wide-eyed.
"Pia!"
he exclaimed, "My God, how late is it? I have to text her!" They threw on robes
from Benicio's extensive collection, and padded barefoot downstairs. The other
men of the all-male household had already eaten and retired in ones or twos for
the night, ostensibly giving Aurelio privacy. As Aurelio gathered their soiled
clothes in the pool cabaña, Ari texted a long, tender lie to his fiancée,
pleading the pressure of the review and the lateness of the hour. Pia would
know this client's importance, however much the reason for that importance
might be shifting under his feet. Because of the demands of their separate
careers he and Pia were not yet living together. For now he would be excused,
and safe.
The men
emptied leftover pasta and ham from the refrigerator and ate it cold, their
feet touching under the table. Ari studied Aurelio, his elbow propped on the
marble table and his hand buried in his cheek. Aurelio mussed Ari's hair, then
reflexively smoothed it again.
Finally
Ari broke the silence with a chuckle. "Well, how much did we cover?"
Percentage-wise."
Aurelio
examined him coldly. "Ten percent tops, compadre. Another ten before
morning. Percentage-wise."
"So much
to learn," Ari murmured admiringly. "How will I bear not seeing you again?"
"You'll
drink from other fountains, hijo," Aurelio said quietly. "I don't date
married men."
"Is this
a date?" said Ari mockingly. "I thought it was a business dinner."
"Horse's
ass," replied Aurelio.
They
cleared the dishes, then padded quietly down another corridor, to Aurelio's own
domain.
Light
came from under the bathroom door, and from the large tank of exotic fish which
was the frugal Aurelio's principal extravagance. He relished making love under
their perpetually shifting gaze.
They
showered together, then dried each other between prolonged kisses. The
laundry bills must be extraordinary, thought Ari, before dismissing this
item of accounting. In his bathrobe once more, Aurelio led Ari naked to a bench
at the food of the double bed, where they resumed their embraces. Confident
now, Ari grasped at Aurelio's massive column of flesh beneath the robe, as it
rose to impressive proportions. Ari eased onto the bed, a bolster behind his
head, allowing the older man to explore his new-found smoothness.
Aurelio
was delighted to find that his beautiful green-eyed lover smelled and tasted
exactly like fresh-ground cinnamon, a phenomenon he had noted in only a very
few. He found the sensation intoxicating and lingered where it seemed to be
present. As Aurelio might have predicted, Ari proved to be a cuddler. Their
lovemaking done, Ari nestled his head deep in the older man's armpit and
plummeted into sleep.
When
Aurelio encountered a new partner, he tended always to exhaust him completely.
Then while his companion slept the sleep of the profoundly satisfied, Aurelio
would lie awake, endlessly going over the new one's potential and shortcomings.
By dawn the work would usually be done. Calculations and projections completed,
Aurelio could bid the new prospect farewell with a clear conscience.
Aristeas,
however, presented a complex set of variables, with many unknowns. For
instance, he thought, was Ari clearly smitten with him, or with a mysterious
new world of male encounters only? Could such raw energy in a younger man be
tamed to lasting advantage? Judging even by the world of the flesh, where
competitive bouts fell invariably to the sensual and the strong, would he be
wrong to snatch this candidate away from the brink of unthinking domesticity?
Aurelio had met Maria Pia briefly, and he did not imagine her the type to go
quietly, if at all.
Aurelio's
self-imposed rule against married men was iron-clad because he refused to offer
himself up as a convenience. He was not possessive, and he really did not care
with whom his lovers spent their time when they were not with him. But his
patience for the psycho-dramas of others was extremely limited. In evaluating
men, especially employees, his friend Benicio liked to ask a recurring
question: Was he a man I could summon up against the Persians? Meaning,
of course, was this a man of unyielding character and strength? In the brief
interval allotted to them, could he train Ari to be a Spartan? Even at
Thermopylae, they had had more time to prepare.
At dawn,
Ari coughed, shifted, glanced fleetingly at Aurelio, groaned, and turned away.
To the young man, the morning world suddenly seemed a much more complex place
than it had the previous day, and he greeted it with gratitude, shame, and
dread, in equal proportions. This Aurelio found immensely consoling, because it
suggested the complexities had resolved themselves and matters were at an end.
He gave Ari gym clothes to wear home, put his suit in a bag for the cleaners,
and made espresso for two in Benicio's room. The men of the house were stirring
downstairs, and Aurelio avoided the kitchen and dining room, taking Ari instead
to the small garden patio looking onto the pool. Clearly there was to be no
farewell kiss. All was going well until Ari, the cup shaking in his hands as he
sat again on the bench next to him, suddenly blurted out "Don Aurelio, when can
I see you again?" As Aurelio looked at him in horror, Ari got down on one knee,
almost as though comically proposing. Ari, his face now so close to Aurelio's
he could feel the hot breath on his cheek, looked at the older man and said
with deadly earnestness, "You now, Don Aurelio, I have to see you again. I have
to." Aurelio considered a humorous reply, but realized that in Ari's moment of
naked honesty a joke now would be cruel – devastatingly so.
"No more
Don Aurelio, chico. That's for business. My men friends call me Jefe.
Of course, we'll all be at the wedding."
Ari
backed away as though he had been struck, then said with great finality, as
though pronouncing judgment, "The wedding be damned." He took a few paces down
the driveway, his laundry bag over his shoulder.
"Until
later then, Jefe," he called back. And smiled.
* * *
In the ensuing seven days, Aristeas smashed
his career, his relationships and his life into bits and danced a fandango on
the pieces. Indeed, by early Thursday morning he had broken with Maria Pia,
emptied his bank account to reimburse her the costs of a wedding laid out far
in an advance and now unrecoverable, and, at Pia's insistence, said a tearful
farewell to eight-year old Clemencia, who gave every appearance of being
heart-broken at losing him. His senior partner summoned him for a confidential
discussion, and while commending him on the latest client review (with which
Benicio had been well pleased), told him that the reports reaching the partners
anonymously of Ari's improper relations with a client were most unsatisfactory
and distressing. (These had come, Ari believed, not from Pia herself but from
one of several angry and self-righteous friends of hers, who had had every
reason to be angry and vindictive toward him on her behalf.)
Late
Thursday afternoon he went to the most secluded nearby beach, stripped to his cache-sexe,
and sat mournfully on a pile of rocks facing the sea. The wind was from
North Africa and the air was full of dust, through which the sun nevertheless
beat down fiercely. He had come thus dressed not seeking anonymous sex, but
only to punish himself, and to see if anything remaining of his being could be
detected without stripping off the skin. He felt as though he was plunging
voluntarily down a windy stone shaft to the center of the earth, while
backdrafts dashed him cruelly against the sides. Who was he? What had come over
him? Each thought, each recollection was like scraping below the epidermis.
When he
returned to the deathly quiet of his third-floor walk-up, he lay on the sofa
for a long time, still covered in dust and grit. He had now only one thought –
not so much a thought as a desperate hope – and that was that Aurelio would see
him and tell him who he was. Now only Aurelio could remake him into who he must
become. He texted him a note: Jefe, may I please see you tomorrow on a
matter of the utmost urgency? Your friend, Ari. Moments later came the
reply: Come at four after siesta. No promises. Aurelio.
* * *
Whenever
Benicio returned from shooting his television series in Madrid, the first thing
he wanted to hear was the gossip. On the Monday after Aurelio's encounter with
the young accountant, the actor breezed in accompanied by the chauffeur, his
security man and too much luggage, calling to Aurelio from the stair, "Anything
to tell me?"
"An
earful," replied Aurelio gloomily.
"Bueno!"
Benicio called from above. "See you at 11:15 – after my agent."
Benicio
lived above all to hear the romantic travails of his numerous friends and
protegés. Before his success as an actor his own life had been nothing if not
picaresque, and his present good fortune meant that he gave most reports a
humorous or an ironic gloss. The actor listened to El Jefe's account
sitting dramatically on a corner of his desk, arms crossed, all ears. When
Aurelio reached the point where his young friend burst into tears on being
held, he exclaimed, "Hay, Madre Mio. Jefe, you've got yourself a
real Llorona!"
Finally,
when Aurelio reached the end of the story and Ari's dramatic ultimatum about
his wedding, Benicio whooped, "Jefe, you have stepped into it for
real this time. This one is not coming off your shoe so easily!" Then,
cackling, he slipped into the ornate bathroom and took a leak.
Aurelio
passed the entire week in blissful ignorance of Aristeas' downfall, and his
plight. Then came the thunderbolt on Thursday.
Before
meeting Ari, Aurelio changed into his tightest jeans and a low-cut white
T-shirt with leather belt. On his feet were worn black velvet slippers with the
Spanish coat of arms in brocade, a gift from Benicio. He rarely smoked, but brought along a highest quality Cuban
cigar. He looked very much the Chief.
After
hearing Ari out, for some twenty or thirty minutes, he trimmed the cigar,
puffed it slowly, and at length he spoke. His unyielding look told Ari he
should keep strict silence until invited to speak.
"Don
Aristeas," he said with mock dignity, "Your situation is terrible. I am a
compassionate man, and I feel this now for you, very much. At this moment, though,
I would like to establish a few essential principles. First, your work
situation can be easily remedied. I think it is time you came in-house and
worked exclusively for me, at this enterprise. I spoke last night to Beni about
just this, and he agrees. There will be a fee payable to your partners for
raiding a recently trained accountant so soon. I will pay this personally, and
you will reimburse me. This should be easier for you because Beni agrees you
should live on the compound. Your living expenses the first year should be
negligible."
"Second,
let's turn to your personal situation. In this I feel I must be a little
brutal, and ask you frankly what it is, at this precise moment, that you want."
Surprised,
Ari looked at him in stunned silence. His brow furrowed.
Aurelio
looked at him. "You are not sure?"
Ari
looked down. A single tear slid across
his cheek. "To be with you."
"But in
what capacity. Do you even know? At the risk of shocking you, I must be plain,
and ask a practical question. Are you a bottom or are you a top?"
"I- I
don't know. . . I –"
"No, of
course you don't. Your knowledge of male love, except for one night, is
non-existent."
Ari was
silent.
"Perhaps
we should send you on a journey of self-exploration – say for a year? As many
different encounters in as many places as your handsome face and figure will
permit. You can keep a journal. I'll even throw in bar money." El Jefe puffed
on his cigar triumphantly.
Ari
looked grim, his jaw set. "I- I don't want a lot of anonymous sex, unfeeling
sex - with men – or women. It's never been my nature. I hate that."
Aurelio
put out the cigar and crossed his muscular bare arms. "Then perhaps I can make
things easier – on one important condition. You see, I have been a top – only –
since I began knowing men at eighteen. A top – exclusively. I have checked the
job listings on premises, and the only opening in my life and in my heart is
for a bottom. Do you know my friend what a submissive is?
Ari listened
intently. For the first time in their meeting he sensed his growing erection.
Encouraged,
the Chief continued. "I will train you exclusively for one year. Outside your
work, and especially in the bedroom, you will obey me, exclusively. You will have
sexual relations exclusively with me – when I allow it, unless I direct
otherwise. Any disobedience, any show of anger, and the training will stop
until your behavior is corrected. After a year, you should know what you need
to know – technically, and about yourself. You will be a man among men. A man
worth knowing."
"What if
you abuse me?"
"There
will be no abuse. You should be able to see, each day, how deeply, intimately I
care for you. But there can be only one will. To which you must submit."
Fully erect now, Ari swallowed hard, then
lunged at the older man's right hand, and kissed it. Aurelio's left hand
swiftly but gently clasped Ari's chin, and drew it close.
"A very
romantic gesture, hombre. But I do not thank you. When next I want your
kisses I will say. Now move your things in by tomorrow."