Date: Fri, 11 Apr 2003 01:37:15 -0400
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: Made in Heaven, chapter 4

MADE IN HEAVEN by Stefan

http://stefan680.tripod.com/stefanstories/index2.html


Chapter 4: Not sure I understand ...


Philipp tried to stow away all of his books and videos and CD's in the
travelling bag he had brought. He regretted that the single room he now
lived in at the hotel he was working at hadn't enough room. He would have
to leave them in the bag.

He rose and looked around. Odd, he thought. Four years wouldn't leave any
trace of his presence in this apartment. If he thought it over, he had
never felt comfortable since they had moved here. The flat was too
sterile. Much too Christian's own. Nothing from Philipp had flown in
here. Philipp would rather have lived in Tim's surroundings, or
Martin's. Not to be near them, but rather to be close to clubs or to relax
in a natural surrounding. He wished he could have both.

He sat upon the red sofa and took a writing pad. He didn't know exactly
what to write, but felt he had to leave something for Christian. He
couldn't go without a word. Finally he wrote -

"Christian,

What a pity. The time with you was great, but you have destroyed it. I know
you were watching me to find signs of my unfaithfulness. I haven't said
anything. I know it wasn't true. I bore your jealousy but now I can't do it
any longer. It was you who drove me into the arms of others. Now you can be
happy for your wish is fulfilled. I feel sorry for the next man you try to
possess.

Philipp."

Carefully he read what he had written. It was not enough to express his
feelings. It was impossible anyway to explain in a few sentences what his
relationship with Christian was all about. Christian had much to give but
the price for all this had become too high. Slowly, with the passing of
time, Christian had changed from a charming, attentive lover to a
possessive husband.

Philipp put his chin into his palm, felt the golden ring around his middle
finger and remembered the evening Christian had set up a table next to the
swimming pool on the roof terrace. It was one of the last sunny days in
October last year. The area was decorated with lamps and candles and upon
Philipp's plate was a black velvet box. The light broke in the Champaign
glasses. Philipp had felt awkward because he couldn't think what Christian
had in mind. Completely at a loss, he stared then at the small platinum
ring in the open box and listened to Christian's marriage
proposal. Philipp's feelings somersaulted. First he felt flattered, then
joy, replaced by fear. He knew Christian didn't want to marry to
demonstrate to the world that gay love is of equal rank to straight
love. Christian wanted to show that he was able to hold a man. To hold him
for a lifetime to prove that love was everlasting and immortal. And there
was nothing wrong with it.

But Philipp had the feeling that Christian's real reason was to put Philipp
into his golden cage. He thought that a piece of paper and a platinum ring
would give him the right to do with Philipp whatever he wanted. He was his
possession with body and hair; Christian wasn't able to lead an equal
partnership. The possibility that Christian wanted to marry just because he
loved him - plain and simple - Philipp didn't consider. The urge for
domination couldn't be love. At least not in Philipp's understanding. He
had awakened very late. That Christian wanted him to stop his studies
should have been warning enough.

He remembered Christian's insulted and disappointed face after he closed
the box, with the ring still inside, and explained he was much too young to
get married. He had stretched out his hand with the golden band both had
been wearing for years as proof that Philipp and Christian belonged
together. Why wasn't this enough? Christian had taken it as lack of love
and affection and punished Philipp with withdrawal of love for many
weeks. Since then, no day had passed without Christian's renewal of his
proposal.

Philipp didn't understand why Christian was so crazy for him. He was just
an average guy, nice to look at, surely, but no head turner. In the end,
Philipp had fled. In all the four years he had never flirted with anyone
else because he was too devoted. The affair with Christian's twin was
nothing more than a demonstration for inner freedom, and exclusively meant
for himself. It could have been anybody. But at least Martin's body and
face had a soothing familiarity. Only their characters were
contrary. Martin didn't demand anything. Where Christian had too much
feelings, Martin had too little. He never forced a decision, nor ever told
Philipp that he liked him, nor asked when he would come back.

Philipp sighed loudly and ruffled his red hair. And now he had stumbled
over Tim.

His look touched the leather books framing the fire side. All of
Christian's beloved poets. He leaned back and remembered the nights when he
had read poems from Wordsworth and Keats. Philipp had never been a big fan
of poems, but Christian had a talent for reading; slowly, with breaks at
the right places and he conveyed the feeling that they were just for
Philipp only.

He smiled, melancholy. These times were over. Christian had changed into a
hysteric being although Philipp had never given any reasons for Christian's
suspicions.

He rose and indiscriminately grabbed a book. It opened were a tag was
between the paper sheets.

"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the
remover to remove: O no! It is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests
and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark...."

Shakespeare's love declaration to another man. But the star was dead.

He put the book back. He didn't know what to do. Martin? Tim? It was
certainly better to remain alone. At least for some time. Looking back, to
be with Christian wasn't wasted time. He had taken too much his profit from
Christian's lifestyle and his knowledge. And Martin wasn't a substitute. He
lacked the tenderness Philipp was used to. He was too much a cerebral
person.

Tim? He smiled. Tim was lovely once he had overcome his shyness. But a
serious partner?

Philipp had the certain feeling that he wanted to be alone. He couldn't
just walk from one relationship to another. One night with Tim didn't give
him the right to be demanding. But Tim seems to be free. He had a father
who protected and supported him while Philipp was a coward and never gave
his parents the chance to do the same for him. On the other hand, he didn't
want to hurt Tim.

He sighed again. He would have to talk with him when he went to return the
clothes, for instance. Tim's sweatshirt was torn so he had to buy another
and to invent an excuse for the new sweatshirt. No way he would tell
anybody that his partner had threatened to rape him. Not even that he had
hit him.

Slowly he went from one room to the other in search of forgotten things. He
saw photos showing a happy pair - he and Christian. For a moment he stared
at them. Christian had never told him about his predecessors. He was always
evasive and Philipp wondered if they were gone for the same reason Philipp
was now leaving. The ring Philipp didn't want was still in its box in the
glass cabinet. His cuddly toy - a white lion - lay forgotten on the
bed. Philipp took it and pressed it to his chest before he put it into the
bag.

He hesitated and thought, what to do now. The work at the hotel wasn't
exactly satisfactory. Philipp knew them all: Foreigners on business trips
who wanted to let their hair down. The xxx-room with the bath inside the
living room and the funny equipment was always booked.

He recognized them at the first view: the good husbands and family fathers
having fun with a hustler or with a call boy whose advertisements they had
found in the newspapers.

The hotel had regulars and discretion was served 100 percent. But he was
tired of all this. Rather he would take up his studies again, now that
Christian wasn't there anymore to forbid him everything. How could he have
lived this way for so long?

He straightened his shoulders, put the keys and card upon the letter on the
table and pulled the golden ring from his finger. He turned it around
several times before he put it carefully next to the other things. Then he
took the heavy bag. He turned again and embraced the apartment with his
look. He hadn't been happy here. Neither of them had been. But how much
this step hurt, Philipp had to go on and find himself.

                               * * * * * *

Maxim watched Tim and Philipp relaxing in the corner of the book shop,
drinking coffee from paper cups and chatting animatedly. He would have
given a lot to be a mouse so he could listen.

Maxim still couldn't comprehend the amazing speed with which Philipp and
Christian had ended their four years long partnership. He had to admit that
Philipp was a completely different type, compared with himself - red hair
aside. Tim was laughing now and again and seemed to enjoy Philipp's
company. He clutched a bag on his lap which Philipp had given him earlier.

    "Maxim?" Nadine was talking to him when he turned. Beside her was a
broad-grinning guy with a similarity to himself.

    "This is Thomas."

Maxim took Thomas' outstretched hand and said hi to him, his eyes still
questioning.

    "I want to show him around." Nadine said. Maxim nodded, stunned before
he called to her back, "Nadine? Do you have a minute?"

He briefly filled her in on Christian's invitation to Paris. "Would it be
okay to have four days off? Can you arrange something?"

Nadine looked surprised. "To Paris? Do you think it's wise? How long have
you known him - since the weekend?"

Maxim looked at Tom's dark shock of hair, moving self-confidently through
the room and looked amused at the calendars. "How long do you know him?" he
asked.

    "Since the weekend", Nadine said dryly and chortled then. "Imagine,
there were straights at the CSD!"

Maxim wrinkled his brows. "I guess we were THE attraction for him."

    "Hey!" Nadine thumped him. "Be nice. When I told him where I work he
was curious to see it."

    "Don't tell me he didn't know this place exist." Straights!, Maxim
thought. He wondered if Tom really was just curious to dive into the world
from the other shore. "Are you sure he's straight?"

    "Absolutely." Nadine's sparkling eyes told him that she had tested him
already. "He's working at the dubbing-studios and knows a lot of actors
personally."

    "Aha." Maxim saw Thomas searching the rooms, looking at book
covers. Nadine seemed disappointed that her friend didn't seem to share her
enthusiasm. "You behave as if you're jealous. Well, if you have to go to
Paris with a stranger - from my side it's okay. Just be careful."

    "Geez, Nadine. I've known Christian for a year!"

    "So? And why do I know nothing of it? Why haven't you told me?"

    "Well, he was with another." Maxim's eyes wandered to Philipp and Tim.

Nadine stepped a little closer and said low, "You do know that Timmy is in
love with you."

Maxim was silent. Could he help it?

Then his heart skipped a beat. Christian entered the bookshop. He stood a
moment and smiled when he found Maxim. "Shit, there he is," Maxim
whispered.

    "Your Paris trip?" Nadine whispered back. Maxim nodded and went to him.

Nadine had a bad feeling in her guts. Her blind thrust concerning Tim had
fallen flat. She wasn't sure anyway, but she just had to look into Tim's
eyes when he was speaking to Maxim to know it. Bloody men! she
thought. They never see the obvious thing. She turned to look for Thomas.

    "I hope you haven't changed your mind," Christian said, then
interrupted himself. His eyes focused on the couch, next to little
angel. Boiling water swept into his stomach when he remembered Philipp's
words that he felt pity for the next man Christian wanted to possess. Had
he really felt this way all the time? Christian bit his lips. He could
prove that he was able to make Maxim happy. This time it should last.

    "No, I haven't changed my mind," he heard him saying.

    "Great. Here's your ticket. What are you doing this evening?"

Maxim stared at the ticket in his hand. "Well, I'll go to the Bar jeder
Vernunft, I have premiere-tickets."

    "Oh." Christian tilted his head. "Alone?"

    "I promised to take Tim with me."

    "Tim." Christian's eyes flickered over the room until he found him
standing now in the merchandise corner with Philipp. As if pulled on a
string, Philipp turned his head and their eyes met. Philipp frowned and
held his gaze, until Christian looked away. He saw Tim's graceful movements
and his face imperceptibly became stony. Tim was fragile, a long legged
elf. Surely Maxim was keen on him. Christian's diamond eyes became piercing
splinters of ice. Short enough, that Maxim didn't notice.

Christian smiled now. "Well then, enjoy the evening. I'll pick you up
Saturday, 8:30 a.m., okay?" He leaned over, slowly, and his eyes consumed
Maxim's before he closed them and Maxim enjoyed the feeling of Christian's
lips on his own. When he walked to the exit, four pair of eyes followed him
before they rested upon Maxim again. Philipp's a mixture of regret and
pity, Tim's with scorn, Nadine's simply curious. And Maxim's full of
hunger.


The last da capo was Zarah Leander's "Kann denn Liebe Sünde sein?"[*]
and the audience was cheering now and again at the ambiguous passages. It
was this song the gay community had chosen to be one of their hymns,
although this statement was omnipotent and universally valid.

Joost's false lashes were sprinkled with silver dust and his full lips were
blood red. Maxim found he walked as self-confident and naturally as if he
was born on high heels, dragging the long, tight fitting dress behind him,
lifting the train and threw it gracefully over one arm. He flirted with the
audience like hell as he left the stage now and walked slowly through the
mixed audience, his gloved fingers caressed there the chin of a man, and
here stroked the naked shoulder of a woman. The people were his prey -
completely. Boldly he threw his head back and the long chestnut hair
flooded over his very low-cut back before he approached the table where Tim
and Maxim sat, the champagne bottle - a present of the house - already
empty. Tim devoured Zarah with his eyes, scalding cheeks, and enthusiasm
sparkled in his eyes. Joost saw it. He squatted down beside Tim's chair and
sang liltingly and exclusively for him about love and kissing and
happiness.

Tim beamed and Maxim heard cameras clicking; the journalists were many this
night. Zarah breathed a kiss on Tim's cheek before he returned to the stage
to his black leather chair, the piano, played by Rainer, and the white
roses strewn all over the wooden ground. A single spotlight followed
him. Maxim adored not only him but also Rainer's piano playing. This could
be a job for him...

Zarah was showered with standing ovations and with roses in all
colours. Tim, meanwhile, was standing like everybody and clapping. But then
he saw him: sitting at a lonely table, not looking toward the stage, but
focussed on Maxim's head and back. Christian. There was no mistake.

Tim tore open his eyes when he received a hard and imploring gaze and
almost stumbled over his chair. Briefly Maxim's back hid Christian's table;
when he could look again, Christian's place was empty. Tim wondered if he
had seen right, but Christian's eyes and his ability to stare was
unrivalled. Wasn't there threat within? And fear? It seemed as if he had
watched both the whole time and Tim's instinct told him that no sane man
would behave like this.

He looked at Maxim, still clapping his hands and suddenly he feared for his
friend. He definitely should talk with Philipp. But Philipp hadn't said
when they would meet again. Tim refused to think that he was dismissed by
two men at the same time. In his writer's brain he registered and analysed
it all too well. He noticed it in his mind: the light, the smell, the aura
of this place - and this certain story he was involved. He sensed something
would happen; Maxim was standing at a cross point, now that he was leaving
for Paris to spend certainly his first night with Christian.

One part of him - Tim called it the writer within himself - experienced
everything from outside, as an onlooker. The other part was just Tim and
his affection for Maxim. He imagined himself a chronicler of the events to
happen. A finger snip in front of his face disturbed him. He snapped out of
his thoughts and saw Maxim's smiling face. He had tiny water drops upon his
nose, the theatre had become hot. "I see you loved it," Maxim said,
embraced his finger tips, took him along to the stage and vanished through
a door which let both to a tight corridor with many doors. "Joost wants to
celebrate."

Tim said nothing. Again one part of himself enjoyed the exuberant mood, the
champagne and all but the rest of him worried.


                           * * * * * *

Maxim was up at the crack of dawn. Despite he had packed everything he
needed the evening before, he was rushing through his flat, searching for
forgotten things. At last he put Tim's novel into his suitcase. When he was
damned to wait until Christian's daily meetings were over, he had something
to read and fill the time. Coco was following each step he made and was
restless as if he knew that Maxim would leave him.

A honk from outside echoed up to him and Maxim rushed to the kitchen window
to look outside. It was Christian's blue metallic Audi. He seemed to have
affection for blue metallic things, Maxim thought briefly before he rushed
to the door to press the opener.

Christian was a little bit out of breath when he appeared but Maxim pulled
him into his arms and gave him a resounding kiss. Christian didn't struggle
when Maxim kissed him longer than was necessary for a greeting.... until
Coco came around the corner and started to hiss. His fur stood on end and
he showed his little, sharp teeth. His ears jerked and he arched his back.

    "Don't, Coco," Maxim took him quickly up and stroked him. "What are you
doing?" The cat's blue eyes gleamed maliciously. "Don't you like cats?"
Maxim asked Christian, who was standing there helpless.

    "Well... I do."

But Coco doesn't seem to like you, Maxim thought.

Rainer peered through the open door. "Are you ready to leave?" He looked
Christian up and down, and Christian returned the examination. 'Now this
was the complicated guy' Rainer thought and smiled. He took Christian's
hand firmly. "I'll expect you'll be having fun."

    "Sure," Christian retorted. "Besides my work to do." He grinned
now. "But there's still the wives program to attend."

Maxim and Rainer looked quizzically.

    "The entertainment program for the wives and girlfriends. You know:
Versailles, Louvre, Disney World, Notre Dame, Champs-Elysees... to spend
the hard-earned money of their husbands," he said innocently before all
three burst into laughter.

Rainer took Coco from Maxim's arms. "Now, little fellow, say goodbye to
Maxim." Coco meowed and Maxim ruffled his fur. "You know where everything
is, and please don't forget the plants."

    "No, sweetie." This was Joost standing in the doorframe in his morning
gown, eyes shaded from lack of sleep. "Have fun." His eyes suddenly pierced
Christian and he seemed to wonder if they had met before. Christian sensed
the stare and felt uncomfortable. Good-humoured, he clapped his hands,
"Time to go. Do you have everything?"

Maxim nodded, took his suitcase and the rucksack. Joost embraced him,
"Watch for yourself."

Maxim laughed and squeezed him too. "You act as if I'm emigrating to
Australia. I'm back in six days."

On the flight he sat next to Christian and looked out of the window. His
heart pounded when he felt Christian's leg pressing his own. He still
wondered why he had asked for Maxim's company. So far he hadn't received
anything other than some kisses and no sign that Christian would be falling
in love in the next couple of weeks. He gave him a brief side
look. Christian had closed his eyes and seemed to take a nap. Probably he
wasn't over Philipp and needed time. Perhaps he just didn't want to go to
Paris alone and Maxim was the man to fill his empty evenings when the
meeting hours were over. 'Wives program'! He thought grinning to
himself. He imagined trotting behind a bunch of exuberantly chatting
housewives and dressed up girlfriends, hung with golden jewels, mirroring
themselves in the shop windows of the Champs- Elysees, shrieking about the
high prices or the newest model of Coco Chanel. And what was he supposed to
tell them? That he was Christian's younger brother?

Then he felt Christian's hand embracing his own, laying on his thigh, and
everything seemed to be fine.

Maxim was disappointed to learn that Christian had booked two single rooms
for them, which confirmed his assumption that Christian didn't want
salvation from his Philipp-trauma but just company. Standing in the room he
found out that a door connected both rooms and his mood improved. Add to
this his bed was big enough for two. He wondered if Christian's was the
same.

He threw his suitcase upon the bed and opened it before he went to the
window. In the distance the Eiffel Tower blurred in the haze of Paris'
air. Beside it he could see tiny golden sparkles upon the waters of the
Seine and a smile filled his face. He had made it to Paris with the man he
longed for over a year... he couldn't quite believe it.

There was a brief knock at the connecting door and Christian entered his
room. He went to Maxim standing at the window, stepped behind him and
embraced him. "Do you like it?" he asked, while leaning his head against
Maxim's hair. Maxim felt his arms and stroked Christian's hands. "I do."

    "This afternoon is the first meeting. You're coming with me to learn
the schedule and all about the women's program." A chuckle was in his voice
and Maxim grinned. "I'd rather go with you to show me around."

    "Later. What are you interested in? Fun or sightseeing?"

    "Both."

"There's Le Queen at the Champs for instance or Follie's Pigalle or Le
Banana-Cafe. Exclusively for guys like us. Fancy one of them?"

Maxim turned in his arms. "Sure, whatever you like. Banana-Cafe?" he asked
then.

    "With hot Latino rhythm."

    "Ah! No hip-hop-crap then?"

Christian shook his head and took Maxim's arm. He led him into his room to
the window and pointed to Notre Dame. "The Isle de la Cite. Across from it
is the Banana-Cafe." Maxim was excited. Notre Dame's white stones gleamed
in the sunbeams which made the big rose window under both towers black like
a hole. Due to the dry, warm weather it seemed very near. He felt
Christian's body close to his and knew that he would get lucky tonight.


Maxim did not feel comfortable in the large congress-centre's foyer. It was
too stuffed with all kinds of people from all over Europe. While Christian
greeted architect colleagues, Maxim looked at the posters, advertisements
and models in the cabinets and display cases. He noticed there was an
exhibition that showed the development of architecture from ancient Lutecia
to modern times. Maxim found it interesting and decided to watch it first
thing next morning when Christian would have his first meeting.

    "Are you Christian's company?" a female voice suddenly startled him. He
looked up to find a friendly looking, middle-aged woman in a severe dark
blue costume, a frilled blouse and a briefcase.

    "Yes," he said.

    "Fine. I'm Sonja, Christian's colleague."

She stretched out her hand and Maxim took it. "Maxim."

    "I don't expect Christian ever mentioned me. I was visiting friends in
Paris, so we weren't on the same flight."

    "Oh. You mean you work at Christian's office?"

She smiled indulgently. "Did you think Christian works alone? We are four
actually." She stroked back her short, aubergine coloured hair and gazed at
him, not unfriendly, but Maxim saw that she was wondering what he was doing
with him here. Surely she had expected Philipp. Maxim's eyes searched for
Christian but he was still engaged in a talk. Sonja beckoned him to sit in
a leather corner. "I expected Philipp. What happened?"

When Maxim remained silent she said, "Hey, I know Christian for many years
and am well informed about his inclinations. Have they ended their
relationship? I thought I would finally receive an invitation for their
marriage."

Maxim felt like he had been thrown in a bucket full of ice, and he couldn't
answer.

    "Tell me please. I don't want to put my foot in it." Her blue eyes were
without deceit Maxim found, so he said, "they broke up, it's true. I don't
know the reason though."

He read dismay in her half-open mouth.

    "Well, our relationship is fresh; he has invited me, to my surprise."
He interrupted himself. Why was he talking to her, a stranger, Christian
wouldn't like it.

    "I see," Sonja said with regret in her voice.

    "Made friends already?" Christian stood beside their place, hands in
the trousers of his expensive suit. "Hello Sonja, did you have some nice
days?"

Sonja rose and Christian placed a kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, I had a very
nice time. The plans and models are safe?"

    "Sure." He looked at Maxim. "Ready to go? It won't take long. It's just
greeting and information." Maxim stood up and the three of them walked into
the large room. "What did she want to know?" Christian whispered.

    "She expected Philipp with you."

Christian nodded. Maxim didn't mention her remark about the marriage, but
he wondered about it a lot.

An orange moon shrouded the monument of Kind Henry IV in bronzed
light. Maxim passed it, leaned against a balustrade and looked into the
water. Tiny waves swept along, broke at the embankment and became silent
again - at least that long before another pleasure steamer would pass the
Seine with its illumination of lamp lines decorating the decks. Maxim knew
it was a tourist attraction to make a trip through Paris at night by boat,
following the old route into the medieval area of the town, passing the
island amid the water. Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Jardin de Tuileries and
finally the Eiffel tower and the small liberty statue, a copy of the one
France had sent to the United States of America as a gift for the
anniversary of the independence. In a much bigger version of course.

Maxim turned and looked along the bridge they were standing upon. It was
broad and had many protrusions for passengers to admire the view over
Paris. Now it was visited by tourists who came into the light circles of
the old lanterns and went into shadows again.

Pont Neuf. THE place for couples in love. The sky was a black impenetrable
firmament that arched high, without any stars to see. The water gurgled and
it smelled like fish mixed with the scent of the largest flower market
Maxim had ever seen.

Christian was silent. He stood beside him, but facing opposite, the large
Isle de la Cite, his under arms supported at the railing and stared at
Notre Dame in the distance. Maxim longed to have a look into the church,
climbing up the staircase to one of the towers and the monster's gallery:
those eerie looking ugly gargoyles, dragons, apes and disfigured beings
like Quasimodo once had been.

The whispering of passengers echoed loud over the water. Maxim didn't hear
them. He lifted an arm and ran his fingers through Christian's blond hair,
felt the unruly locks at the end of his haircut and stroked his
neck. Christian shuddered a little as if his touch was unpleasant. Maxim
forced his head to turn and looked into his eyes. Big, sparkling, black
diamonds. The mouth a dark red flower. He pressed his lips upon it and felt
it opening. Then he felt pulled to Christian's body, embraced and safe.

    "Are we going?" he asked low.

Maxim expected Christian would open a bottle of wine so they could sit on
the balcony, enjoying the still warm air. But when Maxim wanted to follow
him into his room, Christian stopped him, gentle but firmly. "It's a long
day tomorrow. What are your plans?"

Maxim stood dumbfounded and couldn't speak at first. "Well, there's an
interesting exhibition at the congress centre," he said then.

The lunch break is at 1 p.m. Are you coming to pick me up then?"

Maxim nodded. Christian pretended not to see his disappointed look, he just
bent forward, kissed him briefly and wished him a good night. "Remember
what you dreamt on the first night in a foreign bed. It will come true."

He silently closed the door behind him.


Maxim didn't remember what he had dreamt. In fact he knew it when he opened
his eyes the next morning but as much as he wanted to hold it, it faded to
a mist outside the window. He thought he hadn't slept at all, tossing and
turning in his too warm bed, pondering about Christian's rejection. Had he
misinterpreted everything? Put too much into a harmless invitation? Perhaps
he just wanted to show off in front of the Russian boy, who hadn't any
knowledge of the big wide world, as if he was a stupid guy that had never
seen a school from inside.

Was it this? On the other side, Christian never acted arrogant, this slight
touch of showing off his penthouse apartment at the Potsdamer Platz
aside. So he really just wanted any company for his trip, Maxim concluded.

He lifted his legs out of the bed and went barefoot to the window. Again a
light fog hovered over the Seine and clouded the legs of the Eiffel tower
in the distance. Clouded like his mind. If he would just talk about
Philipp. He longed to know about the planned marriage. How was it possible
that their relationship had become so strong that they wanted to marry and
then broke up from one day to the other? Without showing any pain from
Christian's side.

Or was this exactly the expression of Christian's pain: his non-telling,
his non-speaking, his refusal of any sexual contact. He couldn't be that
daft not to imagine what hopes Maxim would have put into this travel. He
couldn't be that insensitive.

Maxim opened the window and stepped onto the balcony that connected both
rooms. Christian was leaning at the balustrade, looking down.

    "Good morning," Maxim managed to say. He hadn't expected that he was up
at that early hour.

Christian, startled, turned his head. "Bonjour, Maxim," he said and
smiled. "Isn't it a wonderful morning? And we are both here in Paris, the
town of love."

Geez. 'Town of love.' Maxim stared at Christian as if he said they would be
in icy cold Siberia.

    "Care to share the breakfast with me? I don't want to go down into the
stuffed breakfast room."

Maxim could only nod.

                                       *

"Made in Heaven by Tim Wendlandt

Green severity lay in her golden eyes. She was old - ancient even - yet
young. Clouds moved over the surface of her body which she had clad in
layers of black lace. He blinked away the haze in his eyes. With the tip of
her stick made of glass she touched his forehead.

"You it is," she said with a high-pitched voice, but in his ears it droned
like the bronzed sound of the Tenno's gong. They were out of space and time
although he knew that he was jogging a minute ago through the public park
at the crack of dawn. Now he couldn't see the trees anymore and the light
was a silvery fog seeping through the branches. Then he had run into the
woman. Or should he say he ran into this being, whose bird-of-prey look
pierced him through and through.

"You are the chosen one in this area," she said now and leafed through a
tiny, pink booklet that had appeared in her hand. "To celebrate the
anniversary of our kingdom, you have one wish free. It shall be granted
instantly."

He glared at her. Dumb old cow, he thought. She must have come from a
theatre performance, losing her way in the woods, or she had escaped from a
house for the mentally insane.

"We don't have time for you to take all day long, young man," she said in a
sing-song voice. "Now is the time to tell me your wish and it will be
granted promptly." Again she tapped his forehead with her wand.

Wand?

He saw blinding light, then his mind was clear. What could he wish for?
Very quickly he pondered the possibilities. He had a job, a nice flat,
money to live on, a car. What else? To win the next lottery jackpot?

Then he thought about his secret worry. His best friend was just a tiny
ding-dong and wouldn't become much bigger when he was fully awakened. Wary
he looked into the fairy godmother's impatient eyes. Could he express such
a wish? To a woman?

Ah, what the hell, she waited for an answer and that she was a woman he
wasn't sure of. He saw how she disapprovingly stuck out her lower lip. Had
she read his mind? He brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered he
wished for "a big penis.""

                                        *

Maxim smirked and leaned his head back against the cushions of the bed. Tim
was clever enough to suggest to the reader that there was much more to wish
for than a big cock, or a big car, a house, or money.

                                        *

   "A big penis?!" the fairy godmother cried out, flames leapt out of the
green severity. She was shushed by him while he looked around, but there
was no one except the two of them. She rolled her golden eyes up to heaven,
sighed and muttered something about the wealth of ideas of this species of
humankind. Then she guided her wand between his legs and touched him there
were just a little bulge revealed his manhood. Instantly he felt it grow, a
protrusion appeared that bulged his tracksuit bottoms. A snake writhed
along his thigh. He felt with his hands and became beet red. "Stop!" he
shouted.

The godmother smiled maliciously. "That's enough? Well, have fun then." She
stepped away, her wand right beside her. Her feet vanished in a haze
hovering over the ground. "Yet one word to all of yours: A fulfilled wish
is the father of many wishes to follow", she said stern and her voice
echoed around the trees. Then she faded into a whirl of dry leaves.

He stood there, had forgotten her words instantly, but peered into his
trousers. There was a thick, long snake indeed; he touched it cautiously
but resisted the urge to play with it. His girlfriend would jump for joy!
He gambolled like a child through the park, enjoying the new feeling of
heaviness between his legs, dangling freely from one side to the other. He
started to walk normally again when he met other joggers. Everybody seemed
to stare between his legs. Abruptly he stopped his walk. On the other hand,
had she ever complained that he wasn't big enough? He couldn't remember if
she said so. But secretly she must have longed for a pole that could
satisfy her and give her the feeling that she had a real man.

The first thing he did when he came home was to have a shower with his new
friend. He stood in awe in front of the mirror, touching the glands having
the size of a peach and stroked the shaft, thick as a cucumber, reaching
over his belly button. He caressed it until he came, soiled the glass walls
of the shower cabin with a stark white gush of viscous juice. His penis
remained hard and his excitement grew - until his girlfriend came home and
stepped into the shower with him."

                                       *

    "Maxim?"

Maxim started and looked at his watch. Crap, that late already. "I'm here."

Christian opened the connecting door. "I thought you would pick me up," he
said, but without reproach.

Maxim put aside Tim's manuscript. "I didn't know what to do there. I've
seen the exhibition already. And this," he pointed to the sheets of paper,
"reads very good." Christian smiled. "Fine, then let's go out, I'm hungry."

Together they jumped into the late afternoon's rush, sat in a Brasserie,
drank Cafe aux lait, and ate crepes with chocolate sauce.

    "What would you wish if you had one wish free?" Maxim squinted into the
sun, watched the garcons with their long white aprons and money purses
wrapped around their waists rushing around the tables, taking order or
serving the guests. He was glad that Christian was able to speak French for
this morning he had had the sad experience that if you couldn't speak
French you were served either badly or not at all. Maxim found it rather
arrogant.

    "One wish? Usually it's three."

    "Just one."

    "Hmm." Slip out of my skin perhaps, Christian thought. Forget the four
years with Philipp and make me wish to be used to your foreign
body. Speculative he watched Maxim. "I don't know right now. It's difficult
to answer when it's just one wish."

    "The fairy godmother said 'A fulfilled wish is the father of many
wishes to follow'" Maxim quoted Tim, although he didn't understand the
meaning exactly. But Christian nodded "I know," he said and fell silent
again. But perhaps I just want to prolong your desire for me before you
realize I'm not worth it. Philipp needed four years. Gregor two. And you?
You are smart and independent. And yet I want you. Christian's eyes
mirrored his cloudy thoughts and the diamond fire within them died.

Maxim didn't notice; he had his nose in the big bowl of milk coffee and let
the last of the sugar mingled frothed up milk melt on his tongue. When he
looked up he had a white cream spot on his nose and Christian laughed. He
wiped it away with his finger and licked it off. The he locked his eyes
with Maxim's and wished the young man with the burning, almond eyes could
be his very own, completely. He knew exactly what to wish: A man that would
never hurt him; a life time long.

Maxim shuddered. Then he took Christian's hand and played with the
fingers. "What's the matter with you?"

    "The congress is exhausting."

Maxim started to laugh. "Oh dear, don't tell me this! You know very well
what I mean." He became serious again. "You've invited me to Paris to sit
in the sun after the exhaustion of your meetings, all right?"

Christian leaned forward. "Nope. To give you a chance to learn to know me
better."

    "Aha. What for? Do you hope I'm falling in love with you?"

Christian's eyes flashed briefly. "Again nope. You have already."

    "Ah well, then you know more than I know." Maxim dropped Christian's
hand, leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. Both stared at each
other until they started to grin. "What a nonsense," Christian said. "I
need time. Four years are long."

And with this he had Maxim on the hook again, called on his
sympathy. Surely Christian needed time. He couldn't seriously expect that
he would jump into bed with him as if nothing had happened. Maxim wouldn't
like such a Christian. On the other hand, Maxim was good in comforting. But
when Christian never spoke about himself he couldn't help him, nor could he
learn to know him better.

    "All I know about you is that you're taciturn as hell."

    "You prefer chatterboxes?"

"Yeah. Why have you broken up you and Philipp? Was it because Philipp went
with Tim? Have you chucked him out because of this? After four years I
don't think you should end a partnership so quickly. And if you ask me, I
think when Philipp is looking for another there was something foul
before. Or perhaps you lead an open partnership? But I've always seen you
both together."

Christian laughed. "Stop it, that's too many questions at once." Christian
still smiled but his eyes were sad and dangerous. "It hadn't happened just
one time. Tim wasn't the first. I can't live with a man who's notoriously
after every pair of pants. Four years are long, it's not a constant
honeymoon. He was bored with me I assume. Passion wears out itself and if
you aren't friends then, it's the end of a relationship. All that's left is
a love affair."

Maxim was astonished about the cool, analysing tone Christian had
struck. "That's why you wish that I would learn to know you better. You
want to establish a friendship first?" Maxim's candid look was heart
rending, but this exactly hit the nail on the head, Christian found. Maxim
was fast comprehending.

    "Yes," he said simply.

    "I can't," Maxim replied low. "I can't divide heart and brain. I'm
crazy for you and my body longs to give it expression. Why can't we do it
at the same time?"

    "Because MY body isn't ready for it. Why don't you wait for the right
time and don't force it?"

Maxim was despairing. Why couldn't Christian understand what he meant?
Instead, he let him starve at his outstretched hand.

    "You don't want me. If you did, you wouldn't tell me such stupid
things," Maxim said disappointed. Tim was right. A fulfilled wish is the
father of many wishes to follow. He had wished that Christian would be
interested in him. Spend time with him. Christian does and now? Was it
good? What would happen after a fulfilled night with him? Would it be good?
Would it lead to the wish of nights to follow?

Christian leaned forward in his chair. "I do want you. If you like me, give
me time." Abruptly he changed the subject. "Notre Dame?"

When Maxim came back to the hotel and Christian returned to his congress,
he had made a decision: He wouldn't touch Christian anymore, leave him
alone, trying to have as much fun as he could. He had even booked one of
the women's excursions to Montmartre next morning and he would tell every
one of the rocks-hung housewives that he was Christian's lover. He looked
forward to see the shocked faces.

                                       *

"His girlfriend looked in shock between his legs, were this new monster
dangled. He told her proudly that a fairy godmother had fulfilled his one
wish and this was the result. If she wasn't happy?

Happy? Slowly she came to terms that he was telling the truth; he had not
been in a clinic for penis enlargements nor did she have a bad dream right
now. Strange things happened apparently. He was more than eager to
demonstrate his new, powerful tool when she stated that she wouldn't be
able to take this without a lot of pain and she wasn't up for it. He must
have been insane anyway and a typical macho in addition. Had she ever
complained? She liked him the way he was. Hadn't he some useful wishes,
like to protect him and herself from harm, injuries or even having a never
ending source of money so they could spend their life in the Caribbean
islands? No! He must brag about such a useless ... nothing nobody would
have a fortune from. She started to sob. "You know I wanted a child. And
you know very well that I'm infertile."


Crap. Yes. He remembered now. Head lowered he followed her through the
flat, and there was no way that he would get lucky tonight. She didn't want
to speak with him the next week and he was left alone with his new friend -
his only friend now, for he couldn't tell anybody what happened to him, so
it was indeed useless. He played with it as often as he could, until he
decided to use it with a whore.

She came - all the experienced older woman she advertised herself in the
newspaper - and was delighted when she groped him and sensed his
bigness. With an extra bit of lubricant she was able to take him although
she didn't seem to feel real pleasure. Like he did. It had never been that
good. Or was this imagination? Well at least she licked and sucked him,
although the pleasure of being completely taken when he had been just a
good mouthful wasn't anymore.

He felt unsatisfied when she was gone and looked at the card in his hand
she had given him. "Flesh," a studio that made porn films. As it turned out
there were produced both, porn's for straights and gays. It didn't take
long until the gays stood and watched him in action, and until he was asked
if it would be ok when he would pose for photos. He agreed to the photos,
he agreed to have photos with him in action with another guy. That guy
really knew how to satisfy a man and his orgasms weren't just a fake.

He let the other touch him in places he never knew would give so much
pleasure and the other even agreed to being fucked, which needed a lot of
time, protection and carefulness; the camera didn't disturb him.

After a month he was the star in the gay porn scene and thought to be
happy. Although he despised the business and gays especially; those cock
obsessed perverts. He had given a lot to meet the fairy godmother but he
never saw her again. And so he remained lonely with his friend and came to
the conclusion that wishes are sometimes made in hell."

                                     *

Maxim let the paper sheet sink. Surely a monster cock wasn't the end of the
world he thought. There were so many possibilities to make love. But the
message was another one. Be careful what you wish for, it could come true,
and instead of wishing for a big cock he could have wished for more love
skill, for 'size wasn't everything, just what you do with it,' as the
saying goes. And when one wish brings with it the next wish, what would it
be then? To wish somebody who could take his monster prick easily?

Maxim grinned. He missed his cat that would sit in his lap with his ancient
wisdom. Actually the guy should have wished for his girlfriend, he thought
then and yawned. It was shortly before six and he was hungry. Christian
wouldn't come home before eight, so Maxim left the hotel to go shopping.

Armed with a city guide, he stepped into the Metro and left it at Concorde,
a devastating wide place where the Eiffel tower stands enthroned, but he
turned to the other side, to the Rue Royal which would lead him to the
church Madeleine, and the big shopping centres like the galleries
Lafayette. He knew it from Berlin, but that was only a poor imitation of
the mother-house here in Paris he had heard.

Maxim dove into a completely new world which he had to absorb first before
he could walk on. He was used to Berlin's new built houses - not always
tasteful, and with too much glass and concrete. But Paris had kept its old
fashioned charm, although Baron Haussmann, Napoleon's architect, had cut
large lanes into Paris' belly. This one led to La Madeleine - a church that
looked like a Greek temple - and was lined with very famous restaurants and
shops. Striped awnings tempted him to watch the presentation of the flower
shop "Lachaume" that filled the pavement with all possible colours and
forms. When Maxim had seen enough, he passed "Lalique" and pressed his nose
against the windowpanes, along with other tourists, admiring the filigree
creations of crystal and jewellery, of watches and lamps. But next to it,
"Christofle" bedazzled with its gold war creations to buy. For that Maxim's
purse was, by far, not big enough.

Excited though sad, Maxim left the cake shop "Laduree" behind and entered
the wide Place de la Madeleine to have a look in the church and its
Corinthian pillars and heavy bronze doors. His stomach growled. Car traffic
shortly befuddled his brain, then he saw the advertisement "Fauchon - 1886"
over the entrance to the legendary delicatessen shop.

Maxim didn't hesitate and was a minute later wrapped in sweet-spicy scent
that made his mouth water. He saw coloured tea tins that covered one side
of the wall and the rest was occupied by sweets. Maxim couldn't resist and
bough Babas - the speciality of the house - after a sales woman had offered
him one. The little cake, marinated in Grand Marnier, melted in his
mouth. Delighted, he chose some of the sweet chestnut bonbons, apple
tea-biscuits, nougat-dominoes and caramels as well as a box of several
jams. He didn't regret spending the money for he loved to give presents to
the ones that were dear to him.

Outside, the yellow dancing letters of "Maxim's" caught his eye. So he
decided to raid his credit card and allow himself a coffee and a piece of
cake. Besides that, he found it funny to share the same name.

The Belle Époques decor was overwhelming; it was as if one was entering
a blue-red cathedral made of glass and ornamented wood; with plush sofas
and chairs and very courteous waiters - so that Maxim dared to order
finally.

He sat in the so-called corridor where one could sit and see the people and
you were to be seen - which was the important thing, according to the
dolled up, elder women and distinguished elder men, eyeing each other
satisfied and put on their best pose. Tim would love it, Maxim thought; he
could study the people that would give him many impulses.

He tried one of the chocolate covered orange pieces laying beside his
coffee cup and decided to take a package of them home for Tim and
Christian, although this probably wouldn't go well with Tim's diet plan.

A little forlorn, he looked out the window to the Rue Royal. Was Christian
really worth the wait? Was he so attractive for Maxim, or had it become
Maxim's habit to like him because he had now for so long? Christian hadn't
given away any personal thing, no history of himself. What was there to
like then? Did Christian want to keep on with Maxim so that he was on call
at any time and for any occasion? Was Maxim really in need to chase after
him?

Maxim had told him that he was crazy for him, but there hadn't been a
reaction: no flattered face, no rejection; Christian hid his feelings very
deep, and it was Maxim's job to dig below the surface.

Maxim emptied his coffee cup and picked up the last crumbs from his
plate. Actually it wasn't such fun to stroll alone through Paris; but
perhaps this trip would cool down his affection and he could open himself
to another love. Tim would have been better company he thought.

After he had paid he took all of the small and bigger parcels he had strewn
around himself. It was time to return to the hotel. The Lafayette he would
have to leave for a later visit. He didn't know Christian's plans for
tonight. And he was actually eager to continue Tim's novel.

He was pleased to learn that Christian had already picked up his key. Maxim
stormed the staircase, knocked at Christian's door and entered, bags
swinging around him. He found him brooding over sheets of paper and
thumbing a book when Maxim let dangle a bag from behind in front of
Christian's nose.

    "Ah, "Maxim's"! Have you plundered the shop?" Christian turned. "I
wondered where you were when you were not here." A steep wrinkle had built
between his brows.

Maxim shoved one of the chocolate-oranges between his lips and stopped him
from being angry. "What are your plans now? Or are you too exhausted to do
anything?"

Instantly Christian's face lit up. He swallowed the rest of the sweet and
licked his lips. "Great tasting. Thanks for this, but you really didn't
have to do it."

Maxim frowned. Why did he have to say this? "It was a pleasure," he mumbled
but felt himself grabbed by his upper arms. "I guess it was funny for you
to sit in the restaurant with your name, wasn't it?" Christian said. "If
they had known they would have given you a percentage." He grinned now. A
mischievous grin Maxim loved instantly.

Christian shut the book and looked at his watch. "Surprise for you this
evening," he said mysteriously. "What about meeting again here in an hour?"

Maxim looked indeed surprised and a little suspiciously but was shoved out
of Christian's room into his own.

After an hour, and a long luxurious bath, he opened the connecting door and
was awaited by a full laid table where silver plates were covered with
silver bowls. Candles were lit and the curtains drawn.

Maxim let a little cry escape when he stood petrified at the door, looking
at Christian who had dressed in his best suit.

    "Oh," Maxim stuttered, "if I had known I would have spent my last money
for a tailcoat."

Christian stepped to him with a glass of dark red wine and presented it to
him. "You like it?"

Surely Maxim did, but he couldn't speak for the moment. What was this
about?

    "Welcome to Paris, Maxim. I thought of giving you a real welcome
dinner. Better than at Maxim's." He smiled. The candlelight made his hair
silvery and his face smooth and soft. Maxim's heart pounded.

Christian behaved better than all the garcon's in the world when he shoved
Maxim's chair under his butt and lifted the bowls from the plates. It was
lamb with rosemary potatoes and a ratatouille that made Maxim's mouth water
more than the sweets at Fauchon. Slowly he guided the fork to his mouth and
tried to enjoy it as long as he could. Christian stared at him, not
speaking before their plates were empty. For desert he gave Maxim another
glass with a sweet tasting muscatel wine until he felt a little dizzy in
the head.


   "Have you something to celebrate?" he finally broke the silence. "A new
contract for instance?"

Christian looked at him. "Not yet. But the prospect." He took another sip
from his wine. "You complained about knowing nothing about myself. What do
you want to know?"

    "Well..." Being asked so bluntly, Maxim suddenly couldn't think of any
of the questions. His spoon scratched the base of the crystal
chalice. "Sonja said you wanted to marry?" he asked then low.

Christian harshly put back his glass of wine. "You start with the most
difficult question." He paused. "Well, yes. *I* wanted but he didn't."

    "Why?"

    "Honestly, I don't know. He said he was too young." Christian pushed
back his chair, took the glass and went to Maxim, pulling him up and stood
with him at the couch. "Still hungry?" he asked.

Maxim wasn't sure if he meant the meal or other things. Referring to 'other
things' he was hungry as hell. He smelled Christian, a scent like wood and
clear water, but remained silent. Perhaps his eyes had betrayed him, for
Christian sat his glass back and turned completely to him.

    "That's all you want to know right now?" he whispered. He didn't give
Maxim time for an answer for he was kissing him now, long and deep until
Maxim struggled for breath. He could feel Christian's hardness and he might
feel his own. Was this the night? Had he planned all this? Seducing him
with lamb and ratatouille? If yes, Maxim didn't mind. He felt pulled over
to the bed where Maxim started to kiss him, outlined his lips with his
tongue, wandered over his face to the long nose, to his ear and down his
neck while his fingers opened the belt of his trousers.

Christian didn't stop him, just let it happen, eyes closed and an entranced
look on his face. A little moan came from his lips when Maxim's fingers
opened the slit of his briefs and dove his head into it. He pulled out the
half hard penis and licked at its soft surface, feeling the hardness
beneath. He tasted the pure, clear liquid, dribbling out of the slit.

Christian lifted his butt so Maxim could push down briefs and trousers at
once and consumed his member completely, devoted himself to this exciting
task while his own hardness strained painfully against the fabric of his
trousers. Christian wriggled but still said nothing. He just opened his
shirt and tossed it aside. Maxim stopped his ministrations and laid his
body full weight upon Christian's. His chest was hairless and velvet as
their nipples rubbed each others. But he detected scars on his skin he
wanted to ask him about, but decided now wasn't the time.

    "Come on," Maxim whispered. "Give me your body." His fingers massaged
Christian's penis gently, tugged at the foreskin, shoving it gently back
and forth and smeared the clear drops over the head. Christian smiled and
started to undress Maxim impatiently, before both lay naked, side by side,
stroking each other's cocks, lips locked, moaning into each other's mouths.

Christian crawled lower until his mouth reached Maxim's buttocks, parted
them and licked the reddish hole, making Maxim tremble with desire. But he
didn't know if to wish or fear what was to come, but he tried to
relax. After all, this was what he had wanted all the time and now there
was no turning back. Christian's silence frightened him. Why couldn't he
talk? Why couldn't he tell him, that he liked what he saw and felt? Perhaps
this had been the reason Philipp had left. Hadn't Maxim waited long enough,
always frustrated by Christian's rejections? Was it now the right way to
consume everything - or was it better to take it slowly, enjoy and explore
their bodies in a slow way?

Christian's tongue went deeper, exploring now the inside of his hole. Maxim
grasped the sheets and moaned involuntarily. Then he felt himself turned
around and expected more kisses, but Christian persevered, looking at
Maxim's body. His hand slowly started to touch him, from the navel down,
following the small trace of dark, almost invisible hair and up again to
the edge of Maxim's erect penis. He interrupted himself to lick his finger
and then touched the shaft. It was cool and warm at the same time, and
Maxim's skin reacted. His penis jerked. Christian's finger nail scraped a
little. Soft and softer. His cock now produced a constant river of
excitement which was licked off by Christian. Maxim didn't know how he did
it, but it felt as if he had two lovers. One that ministered his member,
one that sucked his hole. He wanted him suddenly with every fibre of his
body.

A finger slipped into his entrance, he was stretched and explored and his
back arched. Maxim thought he heard whispering voices in his ears, a
constant chatter, but Christian was still silent.

Then Maxim sensed Christian fumbling with his trousers laying on the floor
and heard him tear open plastic with his teeth. His heartbeat became even
faster when he sat upright, took the condom from Christian's hands and
pushed it over Christian's cock. He gave him a smile and stroked the length
up and down. Christian was big but he doubted he would have problems. He
pushed Christian onto his back and straddled him. The condom was wet and
slippery and Maxim rubbed it between the cleft of his arse cheeks.

    "Why are you so quiet?"

    "Do you want dirty talk?" Christian responded.

Maxim rolled his eyes. "Just tell me that you like me."

    "I like you." Christian didn't bat an eyelid.

    "Why are you doing this with me?"

Christian started a little laugh. "Because I'm horny?" he suggested.

    "Horny in general or horny for me?"

    "Both."

    "Jesus Christ, you're a difficult case to handle, I can tell you." It
sounded easy, but Maxim's heart hurt. He felt his excitement subsiding and
he lost some of his hardness. Couldn't he tell him that he liked him? That
it was great to be in bed with him finally? Surely, Christian had given him
a foretaste that he was a great lover, but the silence disturbed him. But
then there were Christian's hands. Embracing his penis, massaging his balls
and fondling its way to the entrance of his butt. A finger slipped into his
hole again and Maxim literally saw stars.

    "Stop talking, Maxim," Christian whispered and Maxim closed his
mouth. He guided Christian's penis to his backside entrance and relaxed. He
breathed slowly in and out and smiled at Christian whose face was close to
his own, but now had his eyes closed. He didn't move. But as soon as
Maxim's anus opened and the penis slid in, Christian's grey look stared at
him, but didn't recognize him exactly. Instead, it seemed to Maxim as if he
stared right through him; beyond room and time and a smile formed on
Christian's lips. His arms embraced Maxim's body and held him tight around
the waist, whispering "don't move yet." But Maxim couldn't hold on very
long when Christian's hand embraced his penis firmly, massaging the oozing
head until he lowered his head and engaged Maxim in a fiery kiss. His hips
started to buck up and down, taking Maxim with him into the same rhythm,
gradually getting faster. Maxim dishevelled Christian's short hair, raked
all his fingers through it until it stood on end. It revealed another scar
right under his hairline, a rosy, old line, a little jagged.

Maxim moaned when Christian's penis had found his prostate inside which let
his own member jerk and explode in Christian's hand. His white, creamy
fluid shot up to Christian's chest, flooded over Christian's fingers, and
Maxim's mind went blank, his breath sounded loud in his ears, and he still
felt Christian rocking and bucking.

He opened his eyes, saw Christian's concentrated face. So concentrated that
it looked almost relaxed. He still stroked Maxim's penis. Gently as if he
knew what he was doing. Maxim bent down and kissed his mouth, clamping the
muscles in his anus and moving so Christian's cock found the magic spot
again. He felt again tingling in his groin.

But seconds later a cry escaped Christian - "Philipp!" - while he emptied
himself into Maxim's body.

Maxim was down to earth, his excitement gone. He stared unbelieving into
his lover's strained face, the eyes closed, the lashes wet from unshed
tears. He didn't move. The tingling had gone and suddenly Maxim felt pain.

He held the rim of the condom and freed himself of Christian's intruder,
then he took his shirt, laying on the floor, and cleaned his chest of his
own semen.

Silence filled the room when he sat next to Christian, his knees pulled up
to his chest, avoiding Christian's face. His anus felt stretched and big
and empty.

After an endless time he heard a silent, "I'm sorry," and Maxim's shoulders
flinched like in unconscious defence. Christian stood up and walked over to
the window. "Do you have a cigarette?" he asked low.


    "I didn't mean to hurt you." Christian blew grey smoke against the
window pane. He was still naked and Maxim stared at his round butt, feeling
his own hurt. Perhaps there's nothing more shameful than to hear the name
of an old lover at the highest peak of an orgasm.

    "But I can't forget him." More grey smoke curled up and filled the
room. Maxim sucked heavily on his own.

    "You break my heart." Maxim had rose from the bed and draped the sheet
around his waist. Somehow he couldn't stand Christian's naked view
anymore. All that he felt was dirt. Outside and inside.

    "Do you listen?" He raised his voice. "You break my heart!"

Christian's head sunk. "I know."

    "You could have said no." Maxim stepped closer to him. "Why did you
sleep with me when you wasn't ready. When all you can think is ... him."

Christian swirled around and held his palm over Maxim's mouth. "Stop it,"
he hissed. "You destroy everything. Stop talking it down. And don't tell me
you didn't seduce me right now."

Maxim wriggled and bit into Christian's hand. Christian flinched and took
it quickly away. Maxim gathered his clothes, then he banged the connecting
door from outside.

Christian stood a moment irritated, then he rushed out of his room,
following Maxim into his room and grabbed him around the waist.

    "No, you can't vanish like this." They fought for a moment, then Maxim
gave up. Christian was too strong for him. "You can't go." Christian
repeated out of breath. He stared at him, eyes piercing, splinters of
ice. "Give me time. If you feel something for me, give me time. Please."
The ice in his eyes melted.

    "How long? You ask if I feel something for you?" Maxim laughed
hysterically. "Are you joking? It's you who let me starve at your
outstretched hand. Damn, you know that I want you. It's my bad luck you
don't want me the way I want you." His face had reddened and tiny drops of
sweat appeared on his nose. "Tell me when you've decided to forget him. But
I'm not waiting." Maxim's eyes flashed sparks and suddenly Christian
smiled. He felt light hearted, a long time missed feeling.

    "That's what I want to hear, honey." He grabbed Maxim's hand and led
him into his room again, pushed him on to the bed, freed him from the bed
sheet and pulled him next to him into the bed. Maxim was too stunned to
fight. He couldn't follow all the mood changes. Sex hung in the air. And
hurt feelings.

Christian was stroking Maxim's body, up his back to his neck, ruffling the
fine dark hair and down again, over his buttocks, along the leg Maxim had
draped over Christian's abdomen. "Four years are a long time. I can't rip
them out of my heart. If you love me you have to accept this."

'If you love me....' it reverberated in Maxim's head. He didn't know if he
loved Christian. Not yet. He lay still, feeling Christian's hands stroking
him; those gentle hands and felt his kisses. "Forgive me," he heard. "I
love you. I just couldn't show it. I was too afraid."

    "Afraid of what?" Maxim asked. "Of me?"

    "Of myself."

Maxim didn't understand his words. Christian bent over and started to kiss
him. It took a while until Maxim returned the kisses. He felt Christian's
hands again, stroking over his body, pulling him to his chest, squeezing
his buttocks and slipping into his hole again. Maxim sighed. The emptiness
was gone now. He was filled again and felt Christian's erection on his
belly. His eyes were open and focused at his own. And this time Maxim knew
that Christian was completely with him.

-------------------------------------

[*] Can love be a sin?