Date: Sun, 9 Sep 2001 03:47:49 EDT
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: Angel's Trumpets, chapter 2

Angel's Trumpets
by Stefan

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


Chapter Two

Via Appia


George had explained that one of their neighbours was Sophia Loren -
wow, Andrea thought.  So it had to be a very exclusive area and pretty
expensive too.

George's new house was actually an very old one but he had filled
it with comfortable modern furniture, steel and glass.  And a large bar,
filled with George's favorite drinks - gin and martini.  It was situated
at Via Appia Antica, the old road the ancient Romans built for their
troops and army when they had set out to their conquests and returns.
Some passages of this street were still surfaced with the old pavement:
heavy, round basalt stones that still carried the traces of the
carriages: two lines that the wagons, biga and carriages had carved.

The streets were lined up with the ruins of ancient tombs and graves
once impressive to give the generals the right magnificent feeling when
they returned to Rome, but now decayed, overgrown but not forgotten.

Rome's high society had detected it new and had built their houses amid
pines and cypresses.  The most interesting part was the many catacombs,
once begun by the Etruscan tribe, and later still used by the Roman
citizens, for a cemetery wasn't allowed to be inside the walls.

That they were a refuge for the Christian community to hide there before
the Roman emperors like Nero and all who followed because Christianity
was treated as a strange and foreign sect, belonged to the world of
fairy tales. There was nothing secretive there, although one catacomb
was used to deposit the dead bodies of holy St. Peter and Paul before
they had found their real grave in two separate churches.  It was San
Sebastiano at catacumbas; one of the pilgrimage churches of the middle
ages and nearby George's house.


Andrea couldn't imagine the heaps of money George seemed to possess
and this spurred on his efforts all the more.  While he sat into a wicker
chair on the patio on the backside of the new house he felt embraced from
behind, smelled George's familiar smell of martini's,  his hands roaming
over his bare chest, down to his lap, stroking the package hidden in his
jeans.  George could be surprisingly tender and Andrea liked him in those
moments.  But he relapsed too soon into his old, strange habits.

   "A new home just for the two of us," he heard him whispering.
"Showing off your beautiful body, amore?"  He went around the chair
and knelt in front of Andrea's spread legs.  Slowly he opened the fly
of Andrea's trousers; he was naked under them, just the way George like
it.  His fingertips outlined the length of Andrea's penis, and giggled
about the rapid growing.  Andrea could have as much sex as he wanted -
George's ass seemed to be made of iron - but it wasn't fulfilling for
him.  He missed Roberto's cock in his own ass, a thing George never did.

Andrea gasped when George's tongue licked his glans, holding the shaft
like an ice cream cone.  Then he rummaged in his pocket and waved a
thousand pound bill in front of Andrea's nose.  It was a game George had
started:  Thousand pound for a fuck, the more the better, so Andrea
sometimes earned 3000 pounds a night - hard earned money.  The time he
spent in the shower afterwards was getting longer and longer for sure.

Andrea sighed but gave in as always.  George giggled once more, dropped
his pants where he was naked under them too, pulled a condom over Andrea's
cock and sat in his lap.  Andrea felt he had lubed himself up already; he
wondered briefly if George always walked around with a glob of vaseline in
his ass.  Andrea grinned, what George encouraged to let himself sink upon
Andrea's cock, jumping up and down, but Andrea didn't come, he felt
drained. George seemed to love it, so he could ride him as long as he
wanted.

The hot July sun burnt upon his head when George felt his erection grow.
He jerked himself fervently, his hand rubbing the long thin pole until he
sprayed Andrea's chest with white juice, but George still rode him like a
cowboy at Calgary's Stampede.

   "Can I go to Sebastian's birthday party?" Andrea asked laboured, but
George didn't answer.  He had blissfully closed his eyes, panting,
giggling and emanating little cries.  "Can I?" Andrea repeated.  His
penis hurt, but George had reached a second orgasm, a dry one or
something, Andrea wasn't sure.  His thoughts went out to Roberto, to
his body, his face and the money and what they would do with it and then
he came finally.

George released him, lovingly he pulled down the soiled condom and gave
Andrea's deflating penis a long tongue's lap. "You're the best," he
murmured and vanished in the house.

Andrea wiped over his sweaty face, looked around and picked up the
thousand pound bill from the lawn.  He hid it well in his jeans, while
he was following George into the house.  He found him standing by the
bar, drinking a martini.  His trousers he had forgotten in the garden.

   "Like one?"

Andrea refused.  "Can I go then?"

   "No." The word was sharp.

   "Why not?"

   "I don't want you to see him again.  He's good looking."

   "How do you know?"

George drank his martini in one go.  "I've seen him.  At the Forum."

   "How do you know where he's working?"

George chortled, but didn't tell him.  "You won't go.  He's met another
lover, Leandro or something."

Andrea raised his eyebrows.  "Leandro?"  He remembered the young lad
from Volterra.  He had met him last year when both had visited the
Etruscan Museum.  What had Leandro to do here?

   "Is this your final word?  You can't lock me in here."

   "Can't I?"  George giggled again and drank another martini.  Then
he came closer.  "I pay you.  You have nothing without me."  his hand
caressed Andrea's cheek.  "Don't destroy everything.  I need you."  His
lips pressed upon Andrea's red ones, and his hips thrust forward.  "Can
you again?"

Andrea moaned into his mouth.  Not that again!  "I... I don't think so,"
he muttered and George released him.  "What a pity."





Villa Giulia

Leandro sat in the back seat of Sebastian's car next to Kay.  They
crossed Piazza Popolo, up the Pincio-hill to the Park Borghese.
It was a wide place, decorated with an obelisk with egyptian
hieroglyphs and at each corner with a water spouting lion.

Leandro saw a large portal and next to it an ancient looking church with
flat cupolas.  Old women carried large bags behind them and old men
stood together, chatting over the newest political events - just like in
Volterra, he thought.  Sometimes Rome could be surprisingly countrified.

   "Once this was the burial place of Emperor Nero; the people said
his soul was haunted by ghosts and he hid in a poplar tree."  Sebastian
said, pointing to a church with two round cupolas.  Leandro laughed,
"Really?"

   "Not really. But the poplar was there until Pope Paschalis cut,
burnt, threw it into the Tiber anmd built this church here. There
are some nice Caravaggio's hanging there."

Kay eyed him. "This town is full of odd stories, isn't it?"

   "More than you can imagine."  Sebastian turned his car to the steep
way up to the Pincio and drove across some parkways until he stopped in
front of a square castle like building with Rustica-masonry.

   "Villa Giulia."

Leandro and Kay were flabbergasted and a bit frightened, but Sebastian
went purposefully to a side entrance, ending in a large, half-round
yard with several big portals, again entrances, Leandro assumed.  It
was like a theatre facade.  Sebastian though wasn't much impressed and
dragged both into one of the portals, through several corridors until
they came out in a large exhibition room.  Leandro's mouth fell.  In
comparison to the Guarnacci-Museum in Volterra, where he had worked so
far, was this just ... amazing.  A few people worked at a reconstruction
of a grave from the archaic necropole of the town Cerveteri - it was an
Etruscan sepulchre - two grave chambers with two stone couches and jars
of Terra-cotta, bulbous jugs with cloverleaf shaped openings and
figurative ornaments.

Leandro was excited and entered the chambers to look over the shoulder
of a worker.  The worker turned, detected Sebastian and smiled.  He was
small but like a balloon, with an almost bald head.  "Don Pietro,"
Sebastian said, pointing at Leandro.  "Your new colleague."

   "Ah!"

Leandro didn't know what happened to him, when he remembered these hours.
"Don Pietro" was the boss of the staff, an old, friendly man though
severe and precise in his instructions.  He took the young man by the
arm and led him through several rooms and Leandro didn't notice that
Sebastian and Kay had gone, though they would pick him up later as
promised.  Leandro could name all the famous exhibits and Don Pietro
was pleased.  He would work at the reconstruction of the whole
construction of town Cerveteri, a 1:100 depiction made of pasteboard
and paint, like a town made for midgets.

After he had done all the paper stuff in the office, Don Pietro sent
him off to look for himself until his real work would start next Monday.

He entered another room and recognized the Apollo of Veji, one of his
favourites.  A man in a long robe stood in front of it, absorbed in his
viewing, apparently a clergyman.  Leandro didn't want to disturb his
contemplation so he kept his distance, but the man must have sensed
his appearance for he turned and blinked before he broke into a halting
smile.  Compared to the figure of Apollo made from stone the living
beauty of the young man seemed to glow.

Leandro seemed to see a light flickering of desire crossing his face,
but it was gone the next minute.  Then he noticed the ring with the
red stone on one of his fingers but instantly the man started to speak.

   "Principe Borghese-Caffarelli.  Are you here often?"

Leandro shook his head.  "No, your eminence."  Leandro realized that
he didn't bend his knee to kiss the ring as was usual when you
met a cardinal of the Roman Curia but his opposite didn't seem to
care.  "I'll start my work here," he said instead. "You like him?"
He pointed to the life-sized statue.  Apollo's locks fell
to his shoulders, the peplos of the sun god fell in fine folds to his
knees and let light shone through the sculptural movement of the body.
His face smiled the typical archaic smile and there were traces of a
former paint.

   "It was made by the famous sculptor Vulca in Veji in the late 6th
century and is part of a figure group showing the myth of the quarrel
between Apollo and Hercules about the possession of the caught Hind,"
Leandro explained and Gianluca smiled.  "I know," he said softly,
"My family once owned the Galleria Borghese, the collection of
sculptures and paintings before King Umberto bought it in 1902."

   "Oh."  Leandro was embarrassed.   "I'm sorry for telling you stories
you're familiar with." The name Borghese was of course familiar
to him. They had represented some cardinals and one pope in
the 16th century, whose name he couldn't remember at the moment.

   "May I invite you on another day to share a private tour of the
Villa? It's a short way from here."

   "Well... why not?"  Leandro wondered about the offer. It
certainly wasn't usual that such a noble man would condescend
himself to invite a common young man to his house. He shot him a
sharp glance. Perhaps the cardinal was lonely and searched for
company. Suddenly Gianluca said a hasty good-bye, making the promise
to visit again soon.



Galleria Borghese

The reason for his hasty departure was all too clear for Gianluca.  The
young man - he noticed that he didn't know his name - was dangerous for
him.  He had hit a certain spot.... too risky for both of them to give
in.  A cardinal having a mistress was impossible these days, a gay
cardinal was monstrous but a gay cardinal with an abnormal desire was
an absolute no-no. But Gianluca smiled a wicked smile. He
couldn't help it... his body had won over his reason a long time
ago.

While he was walking slowly through the park leading him to his villa
he mused about the last night he had spent at Luigi's Bar near the
Capitol Hill.  He sweated now under his heavy robe.  Gianluca might be
too old in the eyes of the young visitors but he was rich and could pay
for his pleasure.  But then there was a mixed audience as well, old and
young. Gianluca had laughed about all the attempts to keep up with the
young audience in dressing like them, wearing makeup and dying their
hair. It was a ridiculous undertaking.

If he didn't pay more than the usual he never would get a youth into the
darkroom.  Gianluca would give his right foot to spend a night with the
young man he just met. But why to give his right foot? There
were other ways that could force the young man into his bed, right?

But then he tried to distract his mind (and body)
with the imminent event.  Tomorrow morning there would be the solemnly
ceremony of taking over the relics of Jesus from the hands of the Grand
Master of the Order of Malta - a new member of the Cardinal's Committee.
Gianluca had to prepare for it and would later drive down to the
Lateran's Basilica to see if everything there was well organized.

Arrived at Galleria Borghese - now a museum, but he still lived in a
private wing - he went straight to his library and to his precious
book. He dropped the robe and dressed in his comfortable silken morning
robe. Then he brewed his usual mug of tea from the flowers in his
garden.  He had learnt to value the effects although they were of
dangerous sort.  Since he was drinking the memories had returned.
Memories to make him sad, to make him angry, to make him out of control
 - and he enjoyed every second.


        While Poliphilo was on his quest for Polio he passed strange
	buildings, an architecture he loved as  much as he loved his
	beloved, in the same carnal way.  The buildings in the book
	became objects of desire, metaphors for Polio's body.  He
	located the appropriate orifice through which he could engage
        in sexual congress with particular buildings.  The marble of
	a triumphal arch he characterized as 'virginal' and the vein
	less marble of another surface as flawless as skin. He uttered
	an frenetic pleasure and cupidinous frenzy.


Gianluca stopped reading.  What a book... the monk who had written it
must have been one horny chap.  To fuck a triumphal arch.... He froze
when he had an idea.  He left the library and went through a corridor.
In front of a door he pulled out a key and opened it.  He stood in one
of the exhibition rooms, in whose middle the 'David' by Gianlorenzo
Bernini was placed, a life-sized statue, caught in the moment when
David was drawing his catapult to kill Goliath.  It was made for his
ancestors Scipione Borghese-Caffarelli, the founder of this museum.

Gianluca was the last member of this splendid family, a constant source
of sadness for him.  The legend goes that Scipione - cardinal like he
himself - had held the mirror while Bernini chiselled the marble face
of David after his own.

Gianluca loved David, he was like a ballet dancer, the body almost
floating only with his right foot barely touching the ground, performing
a half round-movement from the bag with the stones, ready to throw one.
The face was concentrated on his work, the mouth pressed together.

Gianluca opened his robe, the erect tip of his long and heavy penis
trembled in excitement, leading the way to the waiting marble - flawless
as skin, cold and smooth.  His fingers followed up the naked legs and
stopped at the cloth, hiding David's genitals, wandering further to
the back and down to the butt cheeks, defined though covered. Gianluca's
body startled when his hot member touched the cold stone but the more he
was rubbing it, the more it seemed to him the flesh would turn to life
under his movements.  "Like Pygmalion," it flashed through his mind.

David moved to embrace him, answered his frantic thrusts, in and out,
in and out... Gianluca shoved a finger deep into his own anus to increase
the pleasure; painfully deep and harsh.  Gianluca moaned
but not for pleasure. The pictures in his mind where there again...
The finger in his ass changed into a hard pole that split his
insides. Gianluca wailed but he didn't remove the finger. Instead,
he moved it in and out, wishing it would be the hard pole again
he had felt years ago for pleasure and pain was the same.

A long gush soiled the flawless ivory-coloured marble. Gianluca clung
breath- and motionless to the statue, his arms wrapped around David's
waist.  It took a long while until he was able to wipe the white stuff
away with his robe.  He shuffled away, suddenly embarrassed at what he
had done.  David's face - strained from concentration to shoot the stone
- seemed to be full of revulsion.




Airport Fiumicino

Sebastian had told Leandro that the official name was aeroporto Leonardo
da Vinci but no Roman cared and called it by the old name.

Leandro saw the monument for the one of the greatest Italian artists
and scientists standing at the entrance to the airport hall.

Kay wasn't able to stand still and jiggled around. Daniel was the first
to arrive Leandro learned; Kay had told him many things - starting with
his castle in South-Tyrol, where the people were still speaking German -
the restorations and everything about the altar by Michael Pacher which
got lost and was stolen by Andrea, Sebastian's ex-lover. The only thing
Kay didn't tell him was the night they had spent together.

It was a private matter that just concerned Sebastian and Kay.
They both had spoken about the reasons and reconciled.  Kay couldn't
deny that he had enjoy that night and Sebastian had been understanding.
And both together found that Sebastian had no reason to complain,
thinking about the night he had spent with Nicholas.  Nonetheless he
couldn't wait to see Daniel again; he found him a great man although a
complete different character to his cousin Sebastian.

Leandro on the other side was told too much about Daniel for him not to
be excited to meet him.


And then he saw him: a big man in tight trousers and a white shirt. The
hair, cut short, was thick and auburn and he moved with the same springy
gait like his cousin Sebastian did.  His skin had a deep reddish tan,
like a bronzed metal and he beamed over his whole face as he embraced
first his cousin, uttering his birthday wishes, then Kay.  Leandro's
heart pounded madly when Daniel's apple green eyes met his and locked.
Daniel's smile vanished briefly to appear a second later.  "Leandro, I
suppose?"  His hand grip was very firm; Leandro jerked but was rewarded
with a twinkle in Daniel's eyes.  It was as if the hand grip never ended,
the stare never broke.

Just Sebastian's 'ahem' broke the spell finally.  "Where's Felix?"  he
asked.  "Didn't you bring him?"

   "No.  Felix's over."

   "What?"

Daniel's voice was somewhat indifferent and Sebastian was astonished.
He and Felix had been a pair for almost two months; he had met him in
the gay bar, Kay had detected for him.

   "What happened?"


   "Nothing.  We don't fit together.  He's a party animal."  Daniel
sounded restrained and tried to appear casual but Kay saw disappointment
in his eyes.  He felt pity for him, Daniel was a great man and deserved
a special man by his side.  Sebastian squeezed his shoulder and all
together walked over to the airport restaurant.  Leandro was trotting
behind, until Daniel turned and smiled at him.  "I've heard you're
living at Bastian's and Kay's?  Me too.  I'm looking forward."

He left open to what he was looking forward to.  Rome?  Sebastian's
birthday party?  To learning to know Leandro better?

An hour later the plane from Berlin arrived and Leandro was a witness
of the gushing greeting of brothers and old friends he had never met
except Marcus.  They all showered his young lover Nicholas with
belated birthday wishes that left him very embarrassed but happy.



Gianicolo

The evening was sultry, a leaden sky lay over the town, diving the
houses into surreal colours.  Now and again it drizzled, alternating
with sunshine and from the far distance thunders were clashing.
Sebastian had explained they were having the last edges of a
Scirocco coming up from North Africa.

The house was decorated with flowers and coloured ribbons, reading
'Happy Birthday' and a table with all presents both for Nicholas and
Sebastian.  Antonella, Sebastian's housekeeper had did her best and
ordered service from "Franchi," the most exclusive deli shop in town,
although she worried about her brother Andrea from whom she had hear
nothing for several days.

A loud cheering announced Tasso entering the scene, dressed amazingly
casually - at least for his taste.  Behind him Luigi, his lover and
owner of 'Luigi's Bar' appeared.  Leandro didn't like his macho-like
behaviour.   He had the feeling that Tasso was just his best horse
running and that he was looking somewhere else.   He was surprised to
learn that both were a pair for fifteen years.

Some of Sebastian's colleagues plundered the buffet; loud music played
and Leandro once more caught a gaze from Daniel.  He couldn't sort out
the occasional glances; the only thing he was sure of was that he felt
attracted to the older man.  But then Daniel's facial expression changed.
A young man approached him and he called him Roberto.  Both disappeared
to a silent corner. Leandro clutched his glass of wine and felt confused.
He didn't seem to fit into this group of rich people who could afford
everything he never had dared to think of, like a big tasteful house,
a fast car and fashionable clothes.  Perhaps it was a mistake to
come here. At least he had invited himself.

   "Lonely?" Leandro looked up into the friendly smiling face of a guy
named Ben.  The eyes behind his glasses were hazelnut and gleaming in
the dim light.  He held the hand of Kay's brother who was HIV infected,
as Kay had told him yesterday.  He eyed him but couldn't detect a trace
of the disease. He sure was a bit pale and lean but he radiated
happiness.

   "A bit, si."  He paused.  "Kay told me you're writing?"  Geez, why
did he have to ask so bluntly?  But he saw Simon laughing.  "Oh, man,
he's showing off with his brother, the writer!"

   "Don't be so modest, honey." Ben threw in.  "One of his short
stories was published in a gay magazine recently," he explained to
Leandro.

   "Oh, can I read it?"

   "Sure, it's in German though, but you speak it very well."  Simon
answered.  "Ask Kay, he has a copy.  I wonder he didn't show you
already."

   "He plans to write a book about his experiences as..." Ben swallowed
the rest.

   "As a hustler, you can say it, it's all right."

   "Hustler?"  Leandro repeated.  Suddenly Simon appeared in a new light.
How could Ben live with that?

   "Tasso and Luigi remind me so much of those "La Cage Aux Folles,"
Simon said.  "You know the fairy and the strong owner of the bar,"
Simon laughed good-humoured, "what a couple."

It didn't seem to bother Simon in the least that everybody seemed to
know about his past and current state of health.  What a difference
to the people he knew back in Volterra.  Leandro learned that moment
that past didn't count in this circle of friends, just the moment.

He looked at the pair in front of him and smiled back.  "I've heard
also you're a famous painter?"  he asked coyly and Ben roared with
laughter. "I wish I were!  I'm still learning."

   "Don't we all?" Leandro answered.


Tasso and Luigi said good-bye because he had to prepare his performance
at the bar.  Sebastian had promised that everybody would come later to
watch the show.  He wore his new Cerruti-sunglasses, a gift from Kay,
although he was almost blind by this small light.  He tried to listen
to Daniel's and Roberto's talk but couldn't hear anything.  He was
pretty surprised that Roberto came, perhaps he had news from Andrea,
then he waved at Nicholas, that he was ready to open the presents.

Nick joined him.  Actually he had refused to wish for his birthday,
but Marcus had surprised him with a stable folder for all his drawings,
decorated with Marcus self-painted pictures of flowers and ornaments
and a drawing inside that showed both he and Nick together, a copy
from a photo.

Along with this he gave him a box with fresh oil paints - not very
inventive, but Nicholas loved both.  What else could he wish for than
to keep the relationship with Marcus.  He smiled.  His birthday morning
he had slept in and woke up by the smell of cake coming from the kitchen.
Marcus attempts as cook were, let's say all right, and so was the cup
cake:  terribly dry and dusty but it was made with love and both had
laughed to no end.  Now he enjoyed to be the centre of attention,
receiving more gifts than he had in his lifetime before, one of which
was a complete outfit Kay had gotten at Cerruti's, with consideration
for Nick's more conventional taste, although he pepped it up with some
applications he had chosen.  He himself wore his blue-white striped
suit and looked dead smart as Tasso had told him.




Luigi's Bar

When they entered several taxi's it was shortly before eleven p.m.,
the air was full of wetness and the heavy scent of flowers and grass.
Still a thundershower hung in the air.  Sebastian's colleagues didn't
care for Luigi's Bar so they said good bye; Roberto had vanished also,
Leandro noticed.  He tried to talk to Daniel and managed to sit next to
him in the back seat.  Daniel was taciturn, but one of his legs touched
Leandro's.  It was a pleasant feeling.

   "Umm, who was the man, talking to you?"  Leandro finally asked him.

Daniel didn't answer instantly and Leandro regretted his curiosity.

   "Ex-lover." Daniel said low.  "We had some things to sort out."  He
looked into Leandro's eyes. "Enjoyed the evening?  Good.  Ever been
to a drag performance?"

Leandro shook his head.

   "Me neither." Daniel grinned and Leandro relaxed visibly.  He wondered
how he could keep the conversation going. "I'm working at the
Villa Giulia. It's an Etruscan museum. You know I worked for
the Guarnacci museo in Volterra."

Daniel nodded and smiled. "That's a famous museum. Have you studied
archaeology?"

   "Not really. I've grown up at my uncle's who is the director of the
museo."

   "And now you're good enough to work at Villa Giulia. Congratulations."
Daniel thought briefly about connections but he really didn't doubt
Leandro's abilities. Secretly he watched him from aside. A full shock
of very dark hair that was highlighted by golden spots - he couldn't
say it in other words.  But what struck him most was the eyes.
They had the colour of a greenish brown, changing with each time of
day. Deep like a bog. Promising. Daniel wondered if they would hold what
they promised.

He shifted and freed himself from the touch of Leandro's
leg beside his own. He wasn't sure if he was ready to lose his heart
so soon again, after all the disappointment with Felix. From what he
had heard his ex-lover had replaced him the same day Daniel
had said it's over. Actually no reason for sadness but his ego had
suffered.

He glanced at the back of his cousin sitting next to
the taxi-driver, involved in a chat. Sebastian was so different to
him. He doubted that Sebastian's ego had ever suffered - not even
at the news when he had learnt that Daniel had spent a night with
Kay. His life motto was to live and let live and with this composure
Sebastian had avoided a lot of heartache.



Luigi's Bar was at the Vicolo Margana, near the Capitol Hill.  Despite
the late hour Rome was seething.  It was hot, and filled with the voices
of the night:  laughing and chatting people sitting around tables on the
streets and the high buzzing of Vespa's.

Daniel was still at Leandro's side and he enjoyed it.  Before the
entrance he saw several pairs smooching and fingering their body's.
Leandro felt embarrassed and excited at the same time.  He watched as
Sebastian whipped out his membership card of the ARCY, the Roman Gay
Association and everybody entered the rooms. From the bulky door
keeper he got a tag with a number on his shirt. "It's Biglietti
Segreti," Sebastian said to him, "that's your number tonight; you
must find your match."

Leandro looked startled and Sebastian laughed.  "Don't worry, sweets,"
he spoke into his ear, "I'll take care of you." The rooms were air-
conditioned, luckily, but Leandro was flustered. He was pushed forward
to a stuffed dance floor; there was a stage at the far end where
strippers in black leather scattered their clothes into the audience.
In front of it were small tables and chairs; at the opposite side
another stage, empty yet.  "There's a second floor up there with
Italo-Pop and all sorts of gay trash."

Leandro was blinded by the stroboscope- light flickering over his face,
the Techno-stomp roaring in his ears.  He was sure to choose later the
second floor.  He saw Simon and Ben jumping amid the dancers, enjoying
themselves, while Nicholas dragged Marcus to the bar where the noise
was more bearable.  Sebastian and Kay had vanished too, so he was left
to Daniel standing helpless like himself.

He smiled and Daniel smiled back.  "Want to go up?" he shouted,
and Leandro followed gladly.  Upstairs was another dance floor, flooded
with red and blue light, some cosy corners, stuffed with guys.

The music was soft, and Daniel pulled him close, starting to turn
around with him on the dance floor.  Leandro felt heat and smelled
Daniel's after shave, a fresh scent of lemons and vanilla.  He didn't
know what to say, so he just leaned his head on Daniel's neck and
enjoyed the mutual movement.  He saw another pair kissing and searching
their bodies so he closed his eyes and listed to the Italian pop song.

   "Do you have a boyfriend in Volterra?" he heard Daniel's husky voice.

Leandro's fingers dug into the flesh of Daniel's waist.  "No," he
whispered.  "Do you?  Sebastian asked about a Felix."

   "Yeah."

   "Who is he?"  Leandro insisted.

   "A guy I lived with for two whole months - imagine."  Daniel said
sarcastically.  "I thought he would love me.  But all that he wanted
was... " He stopped.

   "Sex?"  Leandro suggested.

   "Yes."

   "What's wrong with that?"

Daniel brought a little space between their bodies, so that he could
look into Leandro's face.

   "There's nothing wrong when there's another base."  His eyes
reflected the light.  "My life isn't a constant party."

   "I understand."  Leandro returned the intensive stare.  "My
boyfriend married."  He was surprised that he gave this secret and
his defeat away so willingly to a stranger.

   "So?  He's a coward."

   "It is easy to be gay in Rome but not in Volterra."

Daniel nodded.  "I know.  I live in a small town too.  I just had
my coming out a few months ago when Kay found a gay bar in Meran."

Smiling he remembered the location at the ridge of the town, by day a
harmless cafe but by night it changed into a roaring stomp of music and
cruising men, ready to do anything and to follow everybody.  Felix had
been his old classmate and he had never thought to find him there, but .
. . questa la vita.

   "So your boyfriend married under the pressure of his parental home?"
he asked.

   "Well, actually he didn't need to.  He could have left the town with
me. But probably the prospect ot marry the rich daughter from next door
held more attractions than me."

Daniel stared into Leandro's face.  "He must be mad", he said.  Leandro
took this for a compliment.


 The song was over but Daniel held him tight.  His lips brushed
Leandro's ear.  "You're working now in Rome?  Forever?"

   "Probably.  I must earn money.  How long will you stay here?"

   "Oh, I thought to do some holidays, so I brought the altar to a
museum and engaged a security force to watch the castle."

   "That's wise.  Your altar was stolen some months ago, right?  Kay
told me it was Andrea, Sebastian's ex-lover."

   "You're well informed," Daniel grinned.  "Kay's a real chatterbox.
But anyway, it wasn't Andrea alone.  While Roberto lived with me he
spied out the possibilities, then he vanished to return later.  But
now he's gone for good. He apologized for everything."

Leandro didn't know what to say, except that he was sorry.
It must have hurt that his boyfriend cheated on him. And now
it was the unhappy connection to Felix who disappointed him
again. Perhaps it wasn't that easy to keep up a steady relationship
or to find the right man to be happy on his side.

Daniel squeezed his waist and Leandro felt his abdomen pressing into
his own. He started to sweat.  After the song was over he released
himself from Daniel's arms.  "I'm thirsty and we shouldn't miss
Tasso's performance."

Both went downstairs again, halfway down they were met by Marcus
who searched for them already. "Hurry up, Tasso's here."

They hardly managed to take their seats in front of the stage when
the golden curtain opened and a lady appeared.  Leandro couldn't say
it differently - he WAS a Lady.  Dressed in a long, dark rose cloak
over a tight pink dress, short to give away his wonderful legs, the wig,
red as hibiscus, the false eyelashes long and silvery-black.  Leandro
couldn't remember afterwards what he was singing, he assumed it was
something from Marlene Dietrich, the German actress from the 30's.
He had the same smoky-lascivious voice like her.  Later he swirled
over the stage, swinging his robe and legs and the audience went wild.
Whistling and roaring they stood upon stools and tables not letting
him go without an encore.  Sebastian and Kay joined them, when slips,
pants, wrapped parcels showered the stage.

Tasso had another performance later before he finally returned to his
friends, without his makeup and dressed in his usual clothes again.
He received applause when he joined the table, ordering champagne.
He flashed Kay his usually broad smile.

   "You were great."

   "Thanks carino.  It's a hard profession.  You know:  "If a gay man
has too much feeling for fashion for just one gender, then he is a
drag queen!"  It's a quote from a film."  He winked.

   "To Wong Foo," Kay muttered.

The strippers entered the other stage again.  Men expectantly filled
the chairs. Leandro watched them curiously, both: stripper and audience.
Astonished he noticed that the audience was old, well, elder than the
usual crowd. His gaze was caught by a familiar profile.  Although he
wasn't wearing a cloak and a red ring, he was sure to see Cardinal
Borghese-Caffarelli. Holy cow!  How was that?  He turned to Tasso
to ask him but didn't dare.  Perhaps he had seen him here often.
Instead, he decided to keep this secret to himself and slid on his
chair to get a better look at the man.  It WAS the cardinal, 100
percent. What a cheek to present himself here so openly.
Wasn't there always the danger that some of these guys could
recognize him? Well, perhaps not. Principe Cardinal Borghese
wasn't a man of public interest and his face probably not known.

The strippers had dropped - accompanied with loud screaming - most
of their clothes, their private parts now covered with a tiny strap.
They touched each other, opened the straps skilfully with their teeth
and soon were engaged in a play that brought a burning red to Leandro's
cheeks.

The other men barely seem to stop on their chairs.  Cardinal Borghese
shifted uncomfortably or perhaps for excitement.  Behind him he heard
the giggling from Ben and Simon but didn't dare to turn in case they
would see his state of embarrassment, he just caught Daniel's amused
glances.  Daniel turned his head to him and whispered, "Madonna,
that's more than I had expected, don't you think."  Leandro could
only but nod.

He saw cocks vanishing in mouths, and although they didn't get hard,
it was enough to send him into a state of over excitement.  The curtain
fell and left the rest to the imagination of the watcher.  The roar
afterwards was ear-splitting and most of the audience vanished quickly
in several doors to get rid of their excitement in one way or the other.

   "That's the dark rooms," Sebastian said when Leandro woke up from
his trance.  He was afraid that everybody would see the tent in his
trousers, but then he didn't care anymore.  He emptied his glass of
wine, searching for the Cardinal, but he was gone also.  He didn't
want to imagine what he was looking for in those dark rooms, so he
excused himself to the toilet.

Not exactly a good idea for it was stuffed with men, waiting in a
long, tight corridor, some of them sitting along the wall, looking
expectantly at him.  He heard English words, French language and some
others he couldn't make out.  Luigi's Bar must have been something
special he thought before somebody tapped at his shoulder.  Startled
he turned.

   "Hey, amico, I'm your match."  The young man pointed to the matching
number upon his shirt.  "Sascha.  What's your name?"

   "Le...  Leandro."  Leandro just saw a huge pair of brown eyes,
shaded with lashes, long like a cow's lashes.  The rest of the head
was covered in a tangle of tiny, oiled locks.  He was a bit on the
plump side and looked somewhat dumb.  He nodded to the end of the
dark corridor. "Come with me?"

   "Where to?"  Leandro croaked.

   "Dark room, what else?"

Leandro shook determined his head.  "No, thanks,"  and turned.  He
didn't need to piss anymore.

   "Ah, don't be a stronzo, I promise you fun."  The lashes fluttered.
"Or do you fancy a threesome?  I can arrange a four-some also."  He
stepped closer.  Leandro smelled alcohol.  "I have a hot tip for you,
Chamber 4."

   "What's there?"

   "A randy old bastard with such a cock."  He showed the span of at
least a meter.  Leandro snorted.  "You're kidding me."

   "No.  Just come with me.  You have to see that."

Leandro resisted.  He was neither interested in a meter-long cock nor
to go with this guy into a dark room anyway.  Then something came to
his mind.   "How does he look?  The man I mean."

   "Well...  I don't know, it's dark in there.  But I certainly felt
it." He winked, then he seemed to give up.  "Ok, amore.  You owe me
at least a dance."  He took Leandro's wrist and dragged him up to the
dance floor, where still Italo-Pop songs played.  Without hesitation
he pressed his body to Leandro's, clutched his butt cheeks and gave
them a hard squeeze.

   "You feel good," he said grinning.   "If you might think it over,
my offer's still on."

Leandro felt Sascha's erection under the trousers.  Jesus Christ,
that would be fun, he thought.  From a distance he saw Marcus and
Nicholas climbing up the staircase, they waved at him and started
to dance themselves.  Leandro sighed inwardly.  He didn't want to
feel that horny chap beside him, so he thought to get rid of him as
quick as he could.

But before the song was over there was a yelling coming from the
basement.  Sascha released him and ran with Leandro in tow down the
staircase.  Down there it was a jumble, somebody called for the police.
Through all the mess Leandro found Daniel who was as confused as he
himself, then a desperate Tasso joined them to yell to vanish as soon
as possible.  Daniel took his hand painfully strong and pulled him
along to the exit, where they waited for the rest of the group.

   "What happened?" he asked panting.

   "I have no clue.  Somebody cried murder, that's all I know."

   "Murder?"

The street was filling with men, but not many of them cared to wait
for the police.  Finally there was just Simon and Ben missing but,
after a while, they appeared, looking shocked.  "One of the strippers
was found dead in one of the dark rooms."

   "Which one?" Leandro asked automatically.

   "Chamber 4," Sebastian said.  "Chamber 4 is notorious for having
four-some's."

Chamber 4...  it rang in Leandro's head.  The guy with the meter-long
cock... probably he had struck somebody dead with it...  He almost
grinned but pulled himself together.  "How?" he asked.

   "Suffocated under a plastic bag."  Sebastian paused.  "Usual
method to increase the pleasure."  He grimaced, "Nice way to die."
He looked at Kay who was still pouting.  Sebastian had met an old
"friend" and had vanished for a certain time.  For a lone time in
Kay's opinion, long enough to refresh some memories.  Although he
scolded himself he was jealous, but seeing Sebastian giving him that
special smile let him forget his jealous attacks.  Sebastian pulled
Kay close to him and whispered, "What is it with you?  I'm gone for
ten minutes and you behave like an old crone who was left at her
silver wedding anniversary party.  I feared for some minutes it was
you lying dead in the dark room."

   "So?"  Kay was pleased to hear his excuse.  He certainly had to
give up his bias.  "Where have you been then?"

   "Well...."  Sebastian scratched his head.  It started to rain
and Sebastian gave no answer.




Gianicolo

Leandro couldn't sleep.  His eyes followed the strip pattern of the
wallpaper.  Orange and white.  They merged with the flickering lights
of Luigi's Bar.  Different faces appeared.  The cardinal, the stripper,
Sascha, Daniel.  He didn't expect his first days in Rome to be such a
jumble.  Leandro felt too excited to sleep now.  So he stepped out of
bed and entered the tiny balcony.  To his surprise Daniel, having the
small room next to his own, was sitting in a chair, staring into
darkness.  Leandro saw his face in the dim light coming from his
room.

   "Can't sleep?"  Daniel asked.

   "No."

   "What a day."  Daniel said after a while.  It was as if Leandro
had waited for his cue.  "Indeed.  I've never been to such a club,
in fact never been to a gay bar anyway.  It's... it's.... I don't
know how to say.  I feel...."

Daniel grinned.  "You had a hard-on all the time."

   "What?" Leandro grinned embarrassed and eyed Daniel's naked upper
body. He wished Daniel would do the first step; all those glances
couldn't be in vain. It wasn't so that Leandro was much
too shy for this, but Daniel was older and more experienced. He
couldn't imagine himself fling to his body. Daniel had said some
hours ago that he wanted a base in a relationship that was far beyond
plain sexual pleasures. They knew each other just for one day. Ha,
just one day... really? Deep down in his heart he seemed to feel
a mutual connection.

But the longer he waited, the more the opportunity vanished and Daniel
would go back to his hometown. On the other hand, Daniel's hometown
Meran was miles away and he being here in Rome...

   "This Sascha was your match for this evening, right?"  Daniel
continued.

   "Yes.  He was the first telling me about chamber 4.  He mentioned
a man with a long... with a long cock, who seemed to be infamous."

   "Long cock?  Is this an attraction?"

   "Well, longer than normal, Sascha said."

Daniel nodded.  "And who is this man?  The murder victim?"

   "Don't think so.  Perhaps he was the murderer."

   "A murderer with a plastic bag.  They say you feel your orgasm
twice as strong at the brink of death," Daniel said.  "But I wouldn't
like to try it out.  Why anyway."  He seemed to want to add something
but fell silent again.  Then he looked at Leandro.  "Will you see Sascha
again?"

Leandro nodded.  "At Borghese Park next week.  In the afternoon."

Daniel watched him surprised.  "Take care of yourself."

Leandro nodded. He seemed to hear a jealous undertone but perhaps this
was just wishful thinking.  He didn't tell Daniel the real reason why
he wanted to meet with Sascha.  Sascha had promised to tell him more
about the mysterious man from chamber 4.  One of the strippers was
Sascha's brother and well informed.  And perhaps he could learn more
about Cardinal Borghese.

Daniel yawned.  "Good night, Leandro.  Try to sleep."


The newspaper didn't write a single word about the incident at Luigi's
Bar.  Sebastian was informed by Tasso about the closer circumstances.
Paolo - the dead stripper was found naked with a plastic bag pulled
over his face - death occurred 20 minutes before a visitor found him.
He was alone though he had  had sex shortly before he died for his
cum was hardly dried, this nursed the presumption that he jerked off
alone.  But Tasso had stressed it was not normal that this guy should
have been alone in that room.



Villa Borghese


     When Poliphilo awoke in his dream, he is surrounded by male nymphs,
     decorated with water plants.  They are guiding him to three gates.
     Poliphilo chose the third and when it opens there he discovers his
     beloved, waiting for him in a bed of flowers and grass, legs spread
     and ready for him.


The woodcut showed Poliphilo bending his head to suck him....  Gianluca
closed his eyes.  The males drawing a circle around the pair.  While
Poliphilo was on his knees, his butt high in the air, he felt one of
the males kneeling behind him, shoving his pole in one push deep into
his anus.

Gianluca's body jerked. The darkroom. The flashlights. The effect
of the tea. Everlasting painful erection. No release.

Poliphilo feels another mouth embracing his member; he was sucking
while being sucked and fucked.  Begging for fulfilment.  Darkness.
Difficulties to breath.  And then .... release.

Gianluca lost consciousness, his semen dribbled from his naked body,
sitting in the armchair.


~~~~~~~~~~
To be continued soon