Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2006 04:38:31 +0100 (BST) From: Y.H. Tang Subject: Gay Male; 'Shattered Dreams' {yhtang} ( MM ) [1!1] WARNING: The following story depicts consensual sexual activity between adult males of different generations. If material of this nature offends you, PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER. Please note that you must be of legal age, where you live, to read this story. DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction although certain parts are based on my personal experience. Any similarity between other written works, real people or events is purely coincidental. COPYRIGHT: The right of yhtang to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any from or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the writer. Please e-mail me for comments or questions. Shattered Dreams ---------------- "Resistance is futile," the voice of Lust hissed into my ear. "Face the temptation, yield to it," it continued. "Yeah," I said to myself, "Yield to the Dark Side." Giving in to my desires, I sighed and guided my internet browser to the site I said I would not go anymore. I searched and indeed, he was there. Rapture was his Internet name, and rapture was what he had unwittingly stirred in my loins. And it was wrong. Very wrong. It all started a couple of months ago. Rapture stated on an internet site that he is Chinese-American, and revealed in public the size of his manhood. "Aha, one of the few Orientals that are not too embarrassed to talk about their bits and pieces," I thought to myself. As a fellow Chinese, I am only too aware that most Orientals do not talk about sex. Three thousand years of Confucian doctrine had done that to the Chinese. Being so tight lipped about the subject, it is a wonder that the Chinese managed to breed and represent about 20% of the world's population. I introduced myself to him on the internet and after a couple of friendly messages, I found that he was still in high school. I heard alarm bells ring -- for all I know, his is only 16 years old pretending to be over 18. These days, one never knows. Worse still, he could be an undercover cop trying to catch pedophiles. Should I be accused of being one, I would be kissing goodbye to my career as a pedagogue. Having hit 40 years of age, what career change would be available to me? I could try to convince myself that I have a cornered a niche in the social escort market because I am an educated, well spoken, trilingual Chinese. However, as a 40 year old with graying hair and a slight pouch, I am sure I would fail miserably as a gigolo. But Rapture and I only talked about his holidays, the weather, and a bit about his high school life, so all was innocent enough. From his words, I conclude that he is an intelligent, witty and a responsible kid. And curious about himself too. Rapture even admitted to stimulating his own prostate, and asked me about lubes. "Right now I am using Vaseline. That petroleum jelly is rather sticky," he complained. "I use KY Jelly," I told him. "Is there only one use for KY Jelly? I live in a small town, if I buy it, everyone would know," Rapture reasoned. I could feel the frustration in him. "Well, you are developing dry skin," I said to him. "You need baby oil to keep your skin smooth and supple. Do you hear me? Baby oil! Get some baby oil!" It was thus that we carried on and all was going well until one day, a strange paragraph concluded his message. "There was a discussion," Rapture said, "on bisexuality in one of the internet forums. What's your take on it?" Rapture had told me previously that his parents are the traditional Chinese type who never talked about sex. How can I call myself a teacher if I refuse to answer, or skirt around such a sensitive issue? His parents are just like mine; if I were to raise this subject to my parents, I could see my father choke on his Chinese tea while my mother would pretend not to have heard such a question at all. And here is a young man seeking a matured view on this topic. I decide to give Rapture a balanced answer. My answer covered the different views of sex, love, and some people's opinion that the two are separable, while others claim that they are intertwined. Rapture's next message indicated that he is now curious about his sexuality. Rapture was also thankful for the ease of access to information via the internet. From then on, our discussion started to swing more towards sex. I made him swear that he is really over 18 years old. He assured me he is. Stupidly, I stifled the alarm bells in my head. "I might be leaning more towards homosexual than heterosexual," Rapture typed in his message. "Frankly, it doesn't matter to me, but it's my family finding out that I'm kind of worried/ scared about." With these words, I saw in Rapture a man capable of self analysis, unfettered by conventional thought, and willing to take other people's feelings into consideration. Any parent would be proud to have a son like him. To compound his problems, Rapture is the only son in the family. Both Chinese tradition and his parents expect him to marry and breed, in that order. And they would want grandsons to bear the family name. My heart was in turmoil. I remembered my youth -- at 13 years of age, I knew about the plumbing part of sex and the matching of the sex organs jigsaw puzzle. It was only when I reached my 16th year when I read a copy of the Masters and Johnson book on sexuality that I learnt about the phases of the male and female orgasm, masturbation, prostate stimulation and such matters. All these topics Rapture and I had discussed previously. These were the easy topics to cover. Now we have come to a subject that involves him, his emotions and his family. Surely I could not let such a fine, level headed young man make a fool of himself, surely it is my duty to part all the information I have so that he may be able to make an informed choice. Surely..... I should convince him that he is heterosexual and remind him of his duty to his family to breed sons... What should I do? What is in his mind? Is he for real? Is it a trap? Am I a fool? I decided to give him as much information as he required. I would not want him to face the pitfalls I faced. I still remember my first male sex experience. I was 20 years old that Winter when I came by a public sauna in Los Angeles. It was a Men Only sauna, and the warmth felt really good. I was a little embarrassed when I changed because no one had seen me naked before -- not after puberty. Still, this is Men Only affair -- I must face my fears. I shed my clothes, wrapped the soft white towel around my waist and headed for the warm sauna after a short shower. Indeed, the enveloping warmth in the dimly lit sauna cabin was relaxing. Seeing nobody inside, I laid on my back on the long bench, ensuring my modestly was properly covered by the towel. It was so comfortable inside the sauna that I fell asleep in no time. Suddenly I awoke to a warm, wet feeling around my cock. There was a tickling feeling around my pubic area as well. And I knew I was hard, very hard. Oddly, I could still feel the tightness of the towel around my waist. I opened my eyes to see that a middle aged white man with a moustache had lifted my towel and was giving me my first blow job; I was surprised, I was confused, I was excited, I was ejaculating. I shot volleys into his mouth without giving him as much as a grunt as a warning. I sat up immediately and rearranged the folds of the towel to give me back a modicum of modesty. I left the sauna cabin to the pounding beat of my heart in my ears and headed for the showers immediately. With hindsight, I did not even have the courtesy to thank him. But at that moment, I felt the delicious after glow of sex and at the same time I felt violated. I did say I was confused, didn't I? I was in absolute denial that I enjoyed sex with men. It was years later that I began to understand and accept that I am who I am, and I am comfortable with the way I am. But it was a rocky path that I had to that trod through those years. More messages, and I continued to answer Rapture's questions -- all the time stressing that these were only my opinions and he should form his own. "You should try to go out with girls to see if you like them," I advised. I told him part of my sinful past and the mistakes I made in relationship, as did he to me. Throughout our encounters, we maintained a silent agreement not to reveal our real names to each other to protect our own privacy. In time, we had unwittingly become each other's anonymous sex confidante. It was when we went on Yahoo Messenger that things got messier. We talked about how he spent his day, his computer and the computer's RAM strips. "How big is your RAM? I'll show my strip if you show me yours...," I teased him. "My RAM is bigger than your RAM," countered Rapture. "For you, and you only, I will let you stick it into my port," I offered Rapture. "Ahhh... I can feel it going in, push it in gently, please... Harder, harder... Argghhh!" We had our first cyber sex session that night. But tonight, I face my demons. I surfed the net and found Rapture. I sent him a message. Yes, I promised him, we will meet at my beach house the coming Saturday at 3 pm. I had previously agreed to show him the ways of man sex, but we had not decided on a specific day. And now the die is cast. With that phone call, I broke my promise to myself that we would not meet and we would not get involved. I had given into temptation; I had yielded to the Dark Side. We had met on the net, I did not know his real name, we have never seen each other's face, and I am not certain of his age. And now I have arranged to meet up for a sex tryst -- in my home, no less. I have broken every Internet Safety Rule. And all because my heart yearned to be with him. Nervously I waited for Saturday. In the days leading to the fateful Saturday, I worked like a zombie, and the hours crept by too slowly. I could not really concentrate on my work. My nights were filled with fantasies of what he looked like and what we would do when we meet. Would it all work out? I am taking advantage of a young man? Shame on me. What is this infatuation I have for him? Is he infatuated with me? Will this relationship last? Is there a relationship at all? What would I be to him once he has found his feet in the world, gay or straight? Where would I be? What would I do? At 40 years of age, I am old enough to be his father. Had I been careless when I was 20 years old, I would have a 19 year old child by now. All these questions filled my mind. But I right this moment, I did not care. Like Roxanne in the story of Cyrano de Bergerac, I have fallen in love with his soul. I was not bothered with what he looks like. I was blinded by lust, not by logic. Saturday came. I showered and chose my clothes properly, trying not to look like an overage hippy, yet I did not want to look too conservative. The last thing he would want to see is an image of his father. I decided on a navy blue Polo shirt, black briefs to contrast with my fair skin, and beige cargo pants that reached down to my knees. I wore sandals because they are easy to remove. I heard a car stop outside my house, and the distinctive sound of the hand brake being pulled. It was ten to three -- a bit early for our appointment. I rushed to the front door and peered through the spyhole. I decided to play it cool so as not to frighten him away. I saw a young handsome man walk up the path to my front door. To my horror, just a couple of feet way from my door, he stopped and started to turn back. I was having none of this. With a swift move, I opened the door and lied, "You are punctual." That stopped him on his tracks. Now he had no where to go but to turn and face my front door. "I... I thought I was early," he said. Stretching out his hand to shake mine, he said, "I'm Chiang." His winning smile showing a set of brilliant white teeth that made my heart beat faster. If I die now, I would have no regrets. On the face of it, introducing himself is a straightforward process. But the name he gave me spoke volumes. He gave me his Chinese name -- only close family would use that name. Friends and acquaintances would address him by his Western name. With "Chiang", which means "Strong", he had indicated he trust me enough to consider me family. "Your grip is like your name, Chiang," I said, trying my best to quell the tremor in my voice, and to calm the excitement in my heart. "Do come in, and call me Tai," I said. "Ah, where, where are you? I don't see you!" Chiang quipped, looking at me in the eye. I gave him a silly grin. His comment alluded to Chinese proverb, "To have eyes but yet could not see (recognise) the Tai Mountain (the primary mountain in China)." This proverb refers to a person who knows not greatness even when he comes face to face with it. Chiang's answer was calculated to reveal that he is not totally ignorant of Chinese sayings. He had told me he speaks Chinese at home -- his ability to allude to that proverb is proof enough to me. Having been born and brought up in America, apparently his parents had taken pains to ensure he is able to enjoy the richness of both the American and Chinese cultures. So few were the words, and yet so much had been said already. And my grin told him I knew what he was referring to. Thus is the complexity of Chinese life, and he understood it as I did. I gave him a quick once over without looking too obvious. Being Chinese, we share the same dark brown hair and eyes, but at 5' 8", his is taller than I am by four inches. He is of slim built, about 150 lbs to my 140 lbs. I must do something about my weight, I thought to myself. It is already 3 pm, but I do not see much of a 5 o'clock shadow -- he must have shaved before he came. I am clean shaven too, but he seems to have less facial hair than I do. I was pleased to note that he sported short cropped hair like I do. I had never been too keen on long hair because Orientals have rather stiff hair. If it is long, it tends to stick out most uncooperatively, making the person look unruly. I led him into my living room and invited him to take a seat. He declined shyly. Chiang scanned the room and noticed a Chinese bamboo flute hanging on the wall. "Ah, I recognise that," he said. "I practice that in the evenings. Do you want to test it?" I offered. Being made of hollowed out bamboo, each flute is slightly different; each has its own richness in tone. "No, I don't know how to play it," Chiang said. "What songs do you play on it?" "My favourite song is "Can Meng" which loosely translates as `Shattered Dreams'. I play it every evening," I told Chiang. I am a hopeless romantic. `Shattered Dreams' is a song about a woman's love for a man she could not have. I especially loved the line, When I see sorrow revealed on your face, I feel a corresponding pain in my heart. If only we could talk about our sorrows, We could lighten our troubles. Hidden in my hearts is so much love and such strong loyalty I only wish that one day, you could fathom my sentiments. Like I said, I am a hopeless romantic. Changing the subject, I said, "Here, let me get you a drink." I handed him a glass of mineral water. He received it with both hands -- a mark of respect towards me. This young man had been well brought up. I could definitely fall in love with him. "Thanks," Chiang said, with a slight tremour to his voice. I think the brave front he put up is beginning to crumble. Holding the glass of water in his left hand, he took a sip. "What time do you have to leave?" I asked. Perhaps he had promised to be back home by a certain time. Instinctively, Chiang rotated his left hand to look at his watch. The glass of water in his hand spilled onto his T-shirt and shorts, wetting them. "Damn," Chiang exclaimed, then blushed as he realised he swore. "Oh dear, your clothes are wet," I said with a smile. "This will never do; we will have to get it off. Lift up your hands," I commanded, as I removed the now empty glass from his left hand. Obediently, he lifted both his hands and I stripped him off his shirt, blowing at his nipples at the same time. They were erect. Chiang tried to brush the water off his nylon basket ball shorts, but I seized this opportunity to pull them down, ostensibly to remove the shorts to let it dry. Chiang seems to be stupefied, either by surprise or shock. He was left there standing only in his blue and white striped boxers, with his nylon shorts around his ankles. Before he could react, I fell on my knees to breath hot air into his boxers covered crotch and tried to nibble at the small tent caused by his impending erection. There was no turning back. "Tai, oh, Tai, ahhh," gurgled Chiang as I moved on to nip at his scrotum through his boxers. I felt him shiver with excitement and felt him move, putting his weight on one foot and then the other. A quick glance told me he had shed his trainers, and he wore no socks. He had also kicked off his nylon shorts. I rose to my feet and without undue ceremony, lead him into my bedroom. I was still dressed, but I slipped off my sandals along the way. Pushing him down on his back onto my king size bed, I flopped on him. I had him pinned down with my body and I held his hands above his head. I had him pretty much incapacitated, and he was stretched out on my bed for me to use and abuse. I planted butterfly kisses on his face, kissed his lips and lowered my head to suck on his nipples. I then moved on to nip on his armpits. It smelled fresh of boy sweat. Chiang moaned and he thrashed around a bit as I pulled gently on his armpit hair. The growth there was rather sparse and the hair was finer than those in his head. Being taller and slightly bigger than I am, he could have pushed me away at any time. But he did not and allowed me to work over his body instead. That was definitely a sign of approval. Slowly I went from his chest to his navel and then to his crotch, still modestly clad in his boxer shorts. His hard-on stuck out from the slit in a most obscene manner. It was uncut, and as he described, 6 inches long and 5 inches around. This baby is certainly bigger than mine. Its head was already ruby red, shiny with pre-cum and I could see the raised veins along his shaft. I did the only decent thing there is to do -- I engulfed it in its entirety all the way down into my throat. I willed myself not to gag -- this is Chiang's first experience and it should be sweet and memorable, not a nightmare. I deep throated him and heard him moan with pleasure. Slowly I lifted my head, leaving only his glans in my mouth and swirled my tongue all around his head. I felt him jerk and his hands grasped my ears. I moved my right hand from his ass to his scrotum -- they were tight. He was about to blow. "No, no, not yet I... arghhh..." went Chiang as volleys of his cum shot into my mouth. I knew how sensitive a man's head could be at this moment so I did nothing and just let nature take its course. After six or seven volleys, Chiang calmed down somewhat and gasped, "I didn't want to cum yet!" Slowly, I allowed his deflating cock to slip out of my lips and spat out his baby batter. "You'll last longer the next round," I consoled him. "Damn, that was good," said Chiang, getting his breath back. He then stood up and declared, "I'm going to strip you now!" For someone without much experience, he sounded very sure of himself and what he wanted. I let him strip me naked but he stopped at my black briefs. "I'm going to return the courtesy," said Chiang, as he blew his hot breath over my hardness trapped in my underwear. After allowing Chiang to play with me for a short while, I decide it was time for the main course. I told Chiang to shed his boxers and remove my briefs. I then instructed him to lie down on his belly, with his pert smooth buns facing me. "Relax," I said. "It will hurt a little, but much less if you relax." I climbed up and laid on top of him face down, and fitted my pulsing rod in his nether crevice. "It's not going in, don't worry. I'll let you know when the time comes," I assured him. He nodded a silent agreement. As I ground my stiffness against his virgin rosebud, I nipped on his nape and shoulders while my hands caressed his body. I felt him shiver with excitement again. After a while, I was about to cum, so I clenched my muscles and held back my orgasm. I disengaged my cock from his bum and kissed him all the way down his spine, making him squirm. When my tongue reached his ass crack, I began biting softly on the sides of his valley. With each bite, he squirmed and squealed quietly. His rising butt told me he was enjoying the feeling. Slowly I went down further and further into his valley and gave him a rimming to die for. I could tell Chiang enjoyed it by the constant clinching of his butt muscles. It was now to ready him for his de-flowering. Out came my tube of KY Jelly and I applied it onto his rosebud. I slipped in my index finger to start loosening his hole but to my amazement, there was little resistance. "What have you been doing to your arse?" I asked Chiang. "I practiced with my thumb and fingers in preparation for today," Chiang replied smugly. His uncertainty seems to have gone away. With that, I commenced to insert two fingers, then three. That's enough preparation for my modest size. After slipping on a condom, I laid myself on top of Chiang and positioned my cock at the entrance to his hole. I clasped his hands in mine, interweaving our fingers. Slowly I allowed myself to sink in, and I heard him grunt when my head pooped his chute. His fingers clenched mine. "I'm sorry," I whispered into his ear. "Does it hurt a lot? Do you want me to stop?" Chiang did not say anything but he shook his head slightly, indicating I should continue. Gently I went on until I had fully penetrated his virgin ass. I waited of him to get used to the feeling and then I started with very short strokes. After a while, I graduated to longer strokes and varied my rhythm. I could hear him moan with satisfaction. His fingers clenched and unclenched as he enjoyed the sensations deep within him. "I'm close," I gasped. "Where do you want me to cum?" "On me...," said Chiang quietly. I pulled myself out of him and threw off the condom. Chiang turned his body and I could see his right hand pounding on his stiffy. He attempted to grab me with his left hand, but my crisis was upon me and I needed to explode. I grabbed my cock and aimed it at Chiang's pumping hand. I shot my cum at his cock and he used it as additional lubricant. He started to cum at my third shot. I collapsed onto his body, completely spent. The squishing sound between our body caused by our cum was quite erotic. We cuddled for a while and then Chiang suddenly asked, "What time is it?" Unfortunately, it was time for our shower and for him to leave. Having cleaned up and dressed, we headed for the front door. Chiang turned to me and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. "Thanks," he said appreciatively. I could see the glimmer in his eye and the glow on his face. He looked like a very satisfied man indeed. "We have to do this again," Chiang said. "Yes," I answered. I was still in giddy euphoria. I had not come down to earth yet. "Next week, 5 p.m., same place," Chiang not so much as said, but instructed. I nod my head like a hypnotized person. That week passed very quickly and everyone around said that I looked different. More cheerful, they commented. Damn right, I thought. If only you knew what I know, if only you had what I had. And I feared for myself because I realised I was falling into forbidden love. Saturday. The door bell rang once and I opened it. There was Chiang again, hair neatly combed, clean shaven and immaculately dressed. He held a large pizza in his hand. "I have arranged dinner," Chiang said with a smile. "And I am staying over tonight." He stepped in and placed the pizza on my dining table. "Strip," Chiang ordered. "And you?" I asked. "Now," Chiang said lustily as he started to remove his clothes. We ate a few pieces of the pizza in the nude before retiring into my bedroom. "Your turn to lose your virginity once again," Chiang quipped. It was as though Chiang had the whole evening planned out already. That night, Chiang took me up my arse. It hurt because he did was not as gentle as he could be, and I was not used to his girth. But I took it because I owed it to him. And yes, it was also because I liked him doing it, and more than that, I loved him. We had an extended love making session that bordered on wild and primitive. We stopped only to finish off the cold pizza and continued on our journey of ecstasy. Chiang came inside me, and collapsed onto the bed, lying next to me. Soon, the clock chimed midnight. Both Chiang and I were exhausted. I was feeling sleepy from the exertion and the afterglow. Chiang was in the same situation. As Chiang fell into deep slumber, he murmured, "Thank you for the birthday present. I am 19 now. And I love you." Those words were an adrenaline shot. No wonder everything seems to have been pre-arranged. No wonder he had everything plotted out. He must have told his parents he was celebrating his birthday with a sleepover at his friends. His confession of love rang in my ears and my heart beat faster. This was not supposed to happen. He is not supposed to fall in love with me. I can and will control my feelings for him, but he is young; he should explore, and when his curiosity is sated, and when he is certain what he wants, and when he is sure this May and September romance can survive, he could come back to me. I never believe that love should be suffocating. Men are like a bar of wet soap. The harder you grasp, the greater the likelihood of is slipping from your fingers. I turned my head to look at him. Here lies my angel, peacefully asleep, blissfully unaware of the turmoil he had caused within me. I tried to think of a solution -- I need one quickly, desperately. On one hand, I thought of the Chinese proverb, "If the flower is ripe for plucking, pluck it, lest when you do, you pluck only an empty branch." On the other, I could not be so selfish as to ruin his future -- he had hardly seen the outside world, he had not even started university! I decide to tell him in the morning that this is not to be. His cannot be love, it is a mere infatuation. How could he know of love when he had only one emotional relationship - me. It has to be done. I tossed and turned in my bed, hoping for sleep to release me from my pain. At the same time, I willed for dawn not to break. I want the feeling of his warmth next to my body to last forever. I want to preserve this moment, the sound of the pounding surf, the call of the seagulls, smell of salty air, the head of my lover resting on my arm... At last I fell asleep. I woke to a raging hard on being serviced by Chiang. "Hey, good morning," I mumbled. I am not a morning person. With his mouth full of my hardness, Chiang mumbled something incomprehensible. After swallowing my release, we showered. Chiang had me in the "strip search" position and took me there amid the rain of warm water. I was thankful for the shower because it disguised the tears in my eyes. I had to tell him... but how? We finally dressed and were about to leave for breakfast. Approaching the door, Chiang turned his head to me and with a cheeky smile, said, "We could do this every weekend." "We cannot do it anymore," I said, trying not to break into tears. "You are young, you should seek others your own age...." "What are you saying? Are you joking? This is not funny," Chiang said, with a puzzled look. Then he realised I was serious. I could see the frustration in his face. It turned into anger as his face turned red with rage. The veins on his neck started to show. "You took advantage of me!" he accused. I could see Chiang's eyes and nose had turned red as well. He was trying very hard not to cry. "You... user! I gave you my virginity, I gave you my love, I... Don't tell me last night didn't mean anything to you? And this morning ... just now in the shower... What do you call that?" Chiang almost shouted. His words felt like a thousand needles piercing my heart in a random order. Who could know the pain except myself? Who do I have to blame but myself? "It's not like that," I tried to explain. "What's it like then? I am just your living and breathing dildo, isn't it? To be packed away when your lust had been satisfied!" Chiang accused furiously. How do you tell someone you love them enough to tell them to go away? How can you convey that you have the confidence they will come back to you after they had wandered around a bit? How do you reason with one who would refuses to hear? And when he hears, would he understand? Even if he understands, could he accept? If he could accept, would he act upon the reason? My front door opened and Chiang slammed it shut behind him, trapping me in my house. Peeping though the spy hole with tear filled eyes, I saw Chiang head towards his car. He entered his car, shut the door and collapsed over his steering wheel. I wanted to open the door to chase after him -- but what would -- could -- I say? Chiang's car then started and he was gone. The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky. My heart died. Six years had passed since Chiang and I parted. The seasons passed quickly but the days were long. I tried to forget, but the more I tried, the more I remembered. I remembered his natural smell most of all, and the cologne he used. After a while, I ceased to visit bath houses -- there were lots of beautiful young men there with beautiful young cocks. But they were not Chiang. I turned to the bottle for solace, but when I woke, my problems did not diminish. All it gave me was splitting headache and I looked terrible. I stopped that immediately. I practiced my flute with a vengeance, but even my "Shattered Dreams" failed to give me solace. If anything, it increased my melancholy. After a while, I stopped my practice and the flute gathered dust. Eventually, I began to let go. I knew I made the right decision; Chiang had to find his own path and seek his own balance in life. But I hated myself for having to be so logical. So I ran my life like clockwork, and immersed myself into my career. One fine summer afternoon, my doorbell rang twice. I was not expecting any visitors. I was at the door by the third ring of the bell. I peeped through the spyhole on my door. It was Chiang. He was at the verge of turning away. There was a sense of d¦j¤ vu to that sight. I wrenched open the door and said as calmly as I could, "Hey, what brings you here?" There was his smile again, almost stopping my heart like it did so many years before. I was not sure I was happy to see him -- I was just beginning to forget him. I wasn't going to let him go just like this either, without knowing how he spent these intervening years. "I am sorry to drop by without an appointment," Chiang said. "Is this convenient for you?" What he meant was whether I was in the middle of a bout of copulation. Or involved with someone right now. "No, come right in," I said and lead him into the house. "I am here alone. Care for a drink?" I asked. Chiang stood in the middle of the living room surveyed the furniture. "Nothing's changed... except more books," he observed. "And the flute is still there." I gave him a glass of water and he sipped it, not putting it down. I invited him to sit, but he declined, preferring to stand in the middle of the room. It brought back memories of the first time he was here. "So what have you been doing since... " I asked. I could not quite bring myself to finish my worlds though. "I finished University," Chiang answered. "Got a decent job. Fulfilled my duty to my parents and gave them a grandchild." I listened hard, and I looked harder at Chiang's face. I did not detect any trace of bitterness in his voice, but his smile was stiff. Many words had been used, nothing much had been said. "How about you? I had half feared you upped and moved, after, you know..." Chiang's voice dropped off. Undoubtedly, the events of yesteryear were still in his mind. "I have the same old job, still single, unattached, growing more grey hair," I answered, trying to lighten the mood. "What brings you here?" Chiang took a deep breath and then replied, "I was passing by the neighbourhood, and I just thought I'd check if you still live here." There was a pregnant pause. I surveyed him. The past six years had seen him grow in confidence, and he had put on more muscles. He is now mature beyond his 25 years of age. Much must have happened in his life in these intervening years. Before I could answer, Chiang continued, "I married in the final year of my Uni, to a course mate -- a brunette." Again the smile was fixed. "She got on reasonably well with my family -- but we all had to try very hard." "I am glad to hear all is well, Chiang," I replied with an even voice. I would not allow my voice to betray my feelings I had for him, that I still have for him, especially now that he is married. Chiang looked me in steadily the eye and said quietly, "There was no real love in that marriage -- not the type of love that I had known." I refused to answer Chiang; I did not know what to say. I felt I had driven him to this corner. I tried steer the conversation away from the past. "So where's your wife now? Left her at home? No, wait, don't tell me, she's on holiday -- you are a bachelor once more!" I teased. I had always used humour to hide my feelings. "My late wife," Chiang continued in the same manner, "died in a car accident about a year ago." Interestingly, he did not seem too distressed by his loss. "Oh, Chiang, I am so sorry to hear that," I exclaimed. On one hand, I was sorry for his loss, but on the other, I was pleased he was freed from a showcase marriage. I moved towards him to give him a caring hug, to show my concern for him, but in doing so, the glass of water he held in his hand spilled on me, wetting my thin cotton T-shirt and my trousers. Chiang's eyes lit up. They sparkled with life once more. And Chiang had an evil grin on his face. "Oh dear, your clothes are wet," Chiang said with a disarming smile. "I'm so sorry. This will never do; we will have to get it off. Lift up your hands," he commanded. I complied as though I was hypnotized. I was no longer in control of myself; his voice was in control of me. The mentor is no longer the master. Chiang removed my T-shirt, exposing my body. I was now a mere puppet to be manoeuvred by Chiang. He kissed my shoulders, then my chest and his lips finally settled on my left nipple. And as he unbuckled my belt, I was no longer his puppet, I was putty in his hands. I looked at my flute. The lyrics of "Shattered Dreams" come back to my mind. Chiang had guessed the feelings hidden in my heart. THE END ~`~`~`~