We went for our swim. When, back on the beach, Khaled took me in his arms, we lay down on our pareu and started to caress and kiss each other all over our bodies, awakening with art one another's desire. Finally Khaled sat on my lap and, embracing me and caressing my back, made me take him. His expression filled with pleasure inflamed me -- I was lightly holding him at his waist while he bobbed over me, and I started to suckle his sweet, hard nipples pushing myself inside him from down upward, meeting his movements.
We enjoyed each other for a long while, without any worry, oblivious of the four men who, in our house, close by, were probably still discussing our fate. We exchanged our love, enjoying the sweet night under the silver light of the moon, the murmur of the waves underlining the murmur of our hearts.
When, at last satisfied and for the moment sated, without even wearing our pareu but keeping them in our hands, we went back to our room, only Martin was there waiting for us. He looked at our nudity without getting upset, rather, he smiled us with an expression between the sweet and the shy.
"They left." he just said.
"Will they come back?" I asked.
"I'm afraid they will. Unhappily, Dave, I'm afraid that Junior is right -- even if Dad left you in peace, sooner or later this place will swarm with reporters, and they will not leave you in peace, for sure. What do you intend to do?"
"What is your advise?" Khaled asked him.
"I don't know. It depends very much on what Dad decides to do. However, I think it would be better if you leave Tonga for some time, at least until it becomes clear how things develop."
"They told us that we couldn't leave Tonga for any reason..." Khaled recounted then.
"But now that situation has changed. Anyway, I will go back home and I will try to convince Dad that the best thing he can do is to announce his withdrawal from the political scene. And then accordingly he will not run for the next presidential."
"Do you think you can succeed?"
"I doubt it, but I want to try." Martin said thoughtful.
I discussed it with Khaled, and in the end we decided that perhaps it would be worth it to give ourselves a long trip to escape what could happen shortly. So I called Bruce inviting him to come to our island. When I told him we were thinking to going on a long journey, for some months somewhere, he seemed interested.
"If you decided not to incriminate the secret service for your faked death, this could be the best solution." he admitted, then asked: "Where are you planning to go? Do you have any ideas yet?"
"No, not yet. Besides, we also have to think how to organize things here for after we leave. Both to have the hotel continue to run, and for the eventuality that the reporters really do come looking for me, to investigate. I think I'll have to tell whole the truth at least to Jeff, and to Mike and Loui."
"Yes, possibly... even though the less people know about all that..."
"At this point, Bruce, there is not a whole lot of difference, do you think? And if they know, they will manage to react to the inquiries better, won't they?"
I called Jeff asking him to come as soon as possible, together with Sanit. Meanwhile Martin went back home, promising to keep in contact with me, and he gave me his cellular phone number so I could find him at any time. Also Junior had left, and just Bruce remained.
When Jeff and Sanit came, I called Mike and Loui also and revealed to them my true identity and the story that brought us here. Sanit was the most astounded, Loui was less in awe. Jeff said that they would carry on the hotel business, and that regardless, whoever came to investigate about us, they would affirm that we were certainly Tongans, and that if Jonathan resembled Dave, it was just an odd coincidence. Jeff proposed instead, to say we were friends for almost ten years, that is before my "death". We agreed upon some details. Bruce was taking note of our decision and at times he contributed also with some useful suggestions. When it came to the planning of our journey, I told Bruce that I didn't want the secret services involved in it, so they neither knew or controlled where we would go. Jeff proposed to help us to organize it. So it was decided that first of all we would fly to Australia with Jeff and Sanit then, from there we would start our trip. Bruce couldn't do anything but accept it. Also because, anyway, after Larry showed he had access to the secret services, Bruce realized that he didn't know any more who he could trust or not in his own organization. It was weird for me seeing Bruce so submissive...
Khaled and I went to Sidney with Jeff and Sanit. Here Jeff organized a long trip for us, taking all precautions so no one could easily trace us. Our first stop would be in Okinawa, then Kyoto. From there to Korea, then to Thailand as guests of Sanit's family. We would use our Tongan passports, therefore we started again to call each other John and Abe.
We left. Sanit's family welcomed us with open arms. They knew nothing about the boy being gay and living with Jeff. They thought that Jeff was his employer, and that Sanit simply had found a very good job after his graduation, therefore he remained in Australia. After Thailand we visited Shri Lanka, then India, Afghanistan, and from there we went up to the Ukraine and Russia.
Here we read in the newspapers that my father announced he would withdraw from political life. I then called Martin. He told me that both he and Mary Ann exerted very strong pressures on our father to make him reach that decision, that it was best not to raise a scandal, and that his enemies inside his own party, in exchange, didn't reveal I was still alive. My father swallowed the bitter pill, certainly not willingly, but he surrendered to the inescapable, especially when my brother and sister lined up against him. He went back to our home town, where he was soon elected mayor again...
Khaled and I celebrated -- this possibly meant at last the end of all our problems. We went to Germany and I decided to look for Rick and Klaus. I wanted to give them a surprise. They were no longer at the address I had, but as I had Klaus' information, we went to the general registry office who had their new residence. They were now living in Nuremberg. Upon reaching that beautiful, old town, I called their home from the hotel. Klaus answered. In English I asked him if Rick was at home.
"No, he will be back later. Who's speaking, please?"
"I am an old friend of Rick's. My name is Jonathan Marakei and I'm here with Abraham." I answered and Khaled giggled shaking his head amusedly at my prank.
"Ah, Mister Marakei... If you would be so kind to call later... or better, if you want to give me your telephone number..."
I told him in what hotel we were and gave him our room number. He promised me that he would have Rick call me as soon as he was back. We hung up.
"Didn't he recognize you?"
"No, we met a few times, several years ago. But possibly Rick will recognize my voice..."
"Possibly not -- he could not possibly guess you are still alive, could he?" Khaled said caressing me. He pushed me on the bed, opened my shirt and started to kiss and caress me.
"Hey, young man, what's up?" I asked caressing him and opening his trousers.
"I want you, boy! Do you want to be mine?" he asked jokingly.
"Oh, yes, take me!"
"Do you say 'yes' so easily to everybody?" Khaled asked pulling off my trousers.
"No, not to everybody. But to you I do. Always..."
"And why you say always 'yes' to me?" he asked wedging himself full of desire between my legs.
"Because I am so in love with you." I answered offering myself to him.
"And why are you in love with me?" He asked gently pushing his way inside me.
"Because you are the most splendid man I never met. And principally when you take me..." I happily sighed while he was starting to move inside me with manly passion.
I was taking him when the telephone rung. "Answer, it must be Rick..." Khaled sighed.
"I'll call him later." I answered continuing to take him with gusto.
"But..." Khaled objected.
"What's that? do you want me to stop?"
"No..." he murmured, and while the telephone continued to ring, he pulled me to him and deeply kissed me.
We continued to make love with passion and serenity, until we both reached the peak of pleasure, then we lied down satisfied, one in the arms of the other.
"With you, each time is better than the previous one..." Khaled whispered me gently caressing my cheek. Then added: "But now it will probably be better if you call back Rick."
I took the telephone. Rick answered.
"Hello, I'm Jonathan Marakei."
"Mister Marakei... Klaus told me that you called before, but, forgive me, I can't remember having had the pleasure to meet you. Where and when did we met?"
"Oh, ages ago... at a party... I'm visiting here in Nuremberg with my partner, and I would like to have the pleasure to meet you again..."
"Well, yes..." Rick hesitantly answered, then added: "If you want to come to our home, now, we will wait for you."
"Just the time it takes to get a taxi, if you're sure we don't bother you."
"No, certainly not. See you soon, then." he said and hung up.
"He didn't recognize you?" Khaled asked amused.
"I really don't think he did." I answered while we were dressing.
We reached Rick and Klaus' home. I rang the bell. They buzzed us in and we went upstairs. When we got out from the elevator, Rick was at the door.
He looked at me, widened his eyes, then murmured: "Dave..."
"Yes, Rick." I answered with a smile.
"Oh fucking hell! But you are alive!"
"As you can see..."
"Oh fucking goodness... but..." he stammered looking and looking again at me, completely disconcerted. Then he held out his arms, and we held each other tight. "How's this possible? God what a feeling! Come in, come in please."
I told them the whole story while Klaus fixed us a drink. They plied us with questions. Rick was overjoyed to see me again, and his happiness filled me with pleasure. They insisted unconditionally that we leave the hotel and move to their place, in their guest room.
"You didn't have an easy life, my dear friend. After that time they caught us, for me started happiness and for you, the contrary..."
"Well, for me too, after I met Khaled. In spite of all they tried to do to us, we endured."
"At any rate, now I understand why your father so suddenly renounced his political life. The pretext of the health reasons didn't convince me so much. Did you ever again hear from your father, meet him after that time?"
"No, never. And sincerely I'm not so eager to. It seems that our lives are incompatible, in some way. I met again Junior, and I am in touch with Martin."
"And Mary Ann?"
"I just talked to her on the phone. I don't want to go to our country, so if she won't come to see me..."
"And Larry? I wouldn't expect that he played so dirty with you!"
"Oh, the political passion... And now he will be glad he succeeded in putting my father out of play."
We stayed a dozen or more days with Klaus and Rick, who did their utmost to make us spend unforgettable days. Then we decided to move on to Paris. We both had a great desire to see the places again which knew the first steps of our falling in love. We went to dance again in the disco where we met the first time, and he again danced only for me, just like then. He smiled me, I smiled back. Then I went to the bar to take a drink and he came at my side.
I smiled him again and asked him: "May I offer you a drink?"
"Yes, thank you, but a non alcoholic -- I am a Muslim." he said.
"Ah, you didn't seem me an Arab, I thought you rather to be a Spaniard."
We went to sit to a low table. "Are you gay?" I asked him, creating again the atmosphere of long ago.
He smiled: "An Arab will never admit he is gay, but I am one. And I like men, not boys."
"Am I too young for you?" I asked him with a light sly smile.
"No, you are really the right age, you know? Do you have a place?"
"No."
"Then, we can go to my hotel room. Are you coming?"
"Yes, but what will they say, in the lobby?"
"Nothing. But are you looking just for fun with me, or do you have serious intentions?"
"Me? Well, let's start to see how well you make love, then I'll tell you..." I said laughing and we went back to our hotel, filled with desire.
Then we went to London, and from there down to Madrid and by the train we visited several Spanish historical cities, then we went to the south of France. From there we quietly went down to Rome. The long holiday was doing good for both of us, we were feeling again that taste of freedom.
In Rome we settled in a hotel not far from Navona square. I called Mary Ann and she said she would join us in Rome. At last I could meet her again, after so many years.
We went to fetch her from the airport. I didn't recognize her right away, it was she who recognized me. She had become an elegant, refined woman, different from the twenty one year old young woman I left. She was splendid in her thirty years, I could almost say royal.
She embraced me tightly then, looking at Khaled, she gave him her hand: "I am really happy to meet you, Khaled... we can be informal, right? Martin told me so much about you, and in terms decidedly flattering so I was longing to meet you." she said warmly.
"Also John, that is Dave, told me a lot about you, Mary Ann. Welcome in Rome."
We took her to our hotel, where we had booked a room for her. She asked us for some time to refresh herself. We told her we would wait for her in our room. Then the three of us went out to tour the city and we chatted merrily and relaxed. Then we went to eat in a typical "trattoria" that we were suggested to go by the hotel, a typical restaurant of the town.
While Khaled was at the rest room, Mary Ann told me: "He is really likable, and handsome. And it's evident you love each other. Are you at last happy, Dave?"
"Yes, Mary Ann, I am very happy. He is a splendid partner. It is eight years now we are together, and thanks to his love these years have been, in spite of all they made us undergo, years of happiness."
"You could even come back with him, now, couldn't you?"
"No, Mary Ann. As I told you I don't have, we don't have any intention to leave our small island. Nowadays our life is there, I don't even exist any more, for my country. We now are two Tongans, the cousins Jonathan and Abraham Marakei, as it says on our passports. Moreover, besides you and Martin, I have nothing more related to me, there, besides bad memories."
"Yes, I understand. I'm anyway happy seeing you well, in good shape, happy. If anyway one day you decided to comer back, you know that both my house and that of Martin are always open for you two."
"Thank you. You are so dear!"
We toured a while with Mary Ann in several Italian cities -- for her too it was the first time she came in Italy. Then we saw her to the airport. Then we boarded the ship for Morocco -- Khaled wanted to show me his country.
"But what if your relatives recognize you? After so much tine, and a so long silence..." I asked him.
"No, we will not go in the area of my village. It is far from Marrakech, that I want you to see. And there I don't know anybody, nobody knows me."
"Don't you miss your family? You were in good relation with them, weren't you?"
"Yes, because they didn't know I am gay. If I didn't have to disappear with you, they would soon have started to make pressure to make me marry, and then problems would have arisen. And I would have left them anyway, to be able to live my life. I'm happy I met you."
"In spite of all? The kidnapping, the exile in Tonga... You could not even end your studies..."
"I prefer you to electronics, believe me." Khaled merrily answered.
After a short cruise, we disembarked in Morocco. Khaled, as we had Tongan passports, decided to pretend he didn't understand Arab, and that he knew only French and English. And to play the tourist together with me. Reaching Marrakech, we went with a taxi to the hotel we booked from Italy. More than once they addressed Khaled in Arab, including the taxi driver, but they seemed to accept without problems he was not an Arab but a Tongan, also because they didn't have the faintest idea what a Tongan looked like.
"What effect does it have on you acting the stranger in your country?" I asked him when we were in our room.
"Amusing. To listen to all they say believing I can't understand them makes me feel somewhat like a... peeping tom. But it is amusing. Anyway, I have to tell you, I'm discovering I don't feel so much like an Arab. It seems to me almost as if this world, this culture are far a thousand miles from my life."
"And yet, you continue not to drink alcohol, not to eat pork..." I made him notice, but without criticizing him.
"Habits, difficult to lose." he said pulling me to himself, "like that to descend with desire for you, my love. A habit I have no intention to lose." he whispered me holding me tight from back, biting my ear and making me feel his hard-on against my ass.
"Me neither..." I sighed pushing and brushing against him, then I asked him: "Do you want me?"
"Yes, my love..."
We were in front of the window of our room. I leaned on the windowsill while he was opening and lowering my trousers, and I pushed against him. I felt that he too had opened his trousers. Caressing my chest and belly, and between my legs, he leaned against me and pushed. I welcomed him inside me, while looking at the landscape, and thought it was beautiful feeling him inside me. From somewhere, an Arab singsong accompanied his movements inside me, and I soon felt transported to paradise. From a window of the hotel, another client, half leaning out like me, waved me a greeting and I answered back.
"Who are you greeting?"
"Another client of this hotel who is at his window. Don't you see him?"
"No..."
"Therefore, he too can't see you..." I noted with a giggle.
"Are you sorry, or are you happy?" Khaled asked pistoning inside me with his usual vigour.
"Neither of them. Harder, go on..." I urged him, half closing my eyes.
"Yes, but come on the bed, come on. I want to take you from front, I like looking at you, you know it..."
"Yes..." I said parting from him.
Going towards the bed we freed ourselves from our clothes then lying down, we resumed making love.
On the day after, Khaled wanted to remain in the hotel as he felt somewhat tired. I wanted to remain with him, but he insisted that I not abandon the guided tour of the old town, that the hotel organized for its clients.
The visit was interesting. It lasted all the morning long and continued also in the afternoon, after the lunch in a typical restaurant. I was anxious to reach the restaurant to call Khaled to see how he felt. I got out of the bus, we entered in dribs and drabs into the restaurant. I was going towards the telephone, when I noticed an Arab holding high a sign, so that everybody could see it, on which was written "Mr. Marakei".
Surprised, and somewhat worried, I approached him: "I am Marakei..." I said.
"Ah, sir, if you want to follow me, there is a car of the hotel here outside waiting for you."
"Why? What happened?" I asked even more worried.
"Your relative... an accident..."
"An accident? What accident?"
"I don't know, sir, I was just sent to fetch you."
I followed him, my heart in tumult -- what accident, what could have happened to him? Did he feel ill? I ought not to have left him alone, I was telling myself, while the car proceeded slowly, incredibly slow, through the narrow and crowded streets. Somehow or other we finally reached the hotel and there I felt my heart break -- there was an ambulance, several cars of the police, a crowd.
I got out and run to the hall. Here a clerk recognized me: "Mister Marakei..." he said aloud coming towards me and, together with him came two policemen in uniform and a man in plain clothes, who announced himself as a police inspector and, in French, asked me: "Are you the cousin of Monsieur Abraham Marakei, Monsieur?"
"Yes, it's me. But what happened? Where is Abraham?"
"I am really sorry, Monsieur, but... we are trying to reconstruct the facts... If you want to follow me..."
"Where is Abraham?" I almost shouted.
"I have to give you a sad news, Monsieur, they took him to the hospital..."
"Is he ill? Is he wounded?"
"Unhappily, Monsieur, they brought him to the hospital morgue for the autopsy, Monsieur."
I lost consciousness. When I recovered, I was lying in the bed of a room of the hotel, not our room. In the room there were two policemen, a nurse, a hotel clerk.
"How are you?" the nurse asked me as soon as he saw I opened my eyes. A policeman went out and came back soon with the inspector. He asked me if I felt like answering to some questions. And the interrogation started. At first I almost thought to tell them who we really were, but then I preferred to maintain the version of the two Tongans...
"How it comes that your cousin was circumcised?" at a certain point the inspector asked me.
"A phimosis, when he was a child." I answered.
"He looks like a Moroccan..." the inspector said.
"No, not even a drop of Arab blood, we are cousins, I know that well." I insisted. Telling the truth meant to bring again to surface all our story and this I didn't want... At this point it was completely meaningless.
Khaled had been stabbed in our room, by a hotel porter who defended himself saying that he had to do it in order to escape to the heavy sexual advances of the client. I didn't believe it, I replied firmly. And anyway it was certain that he had not been killed for a theft, the inspector said after they allowed me to go back to our room to check if something was missing. I asked to make a couple of telephone calls. I called Jeff and Martin and told them. Both said they would come immediately in Morocco.
At last I could see again Khaled. He was lying naked on a marble table, in the morgue, covered with a sheet. The autopsy had not yet been executed. On the wounds of the dagger they had put some plasters. I caressed him for the last time, then covered him again. No, I didn't believe the killer's version, that on the other hand the police seemed to confirm.
First Jeff then Martin came and I was surprised when he told me that Bruce also came on his same flight, and who was now at the Embassy. I explained then what little I knew, and told them I stuck to our Tongan nationality, as I didn't want to create more problems. I told them also that I absolutely didn't believe that Khaled could have molested the killer, not sexually nor in any other way. I asked Jeff if he would do all that was needed to bring Khaled's body back to Tonga, and to see if we could bury him in our island. Jeff busied himself at once.
When we were alone, Martin embraced me tightly, keeping silent and finally I cried. I felt completely dazed, emptied, I felt as if for me life ceased to go on. Martin wanted that we share the room for the night. I let him have his way. Jeff told me that the autopsy had to be done first, then we could take Khaled body to Tonga, via Australia. He was preparing all the needed papers through the Australian Embassy that cared also Tongan affairs in Morocco.
Then Martin got a call from Bruce. He made some inquiries, and it turned out what he suspected -- the killer was one of the former room mates of Khaled in Paris, who by chance was working in our hotel. He recognized Khaled and killed him, as he threatened to do when the French Secret Service arrested all four of them. I hadn't thought of that possibility at all and this news made me sink in a sea of remorse -- he had been killed just for knowing me. Meeting me had been fatal to him.
I shouldn't have allowed us to go to Morocco, I was telling myself, I should never have left him alone that morning, I was accusing myself...
Uselessly both Martin and Jeff tried to persuade me it was not my fault. Even so I felt destroyed.
We could at last take Khaled's body back home. Martin wanted to accompany me to Tonga and stayed some days with me. In Australia I had Khaled's body cremated and on our island, near our house, I had erected a shrine under which I buried the cinerary urn. All around the shrine Loui plated a ring of flowery bushes. From our bed room I could see the shrine each evening when falling asleep, and each evening when I woke up.
Also Mary Ann came to see me. The warmth of my friends, of Martin and of my sister, did me good, but couldn't soothe the torment for the sudden, absurd loss of my beloved. It was an unbridgeable emptiness. I started again, little by little, to make so that my deep sadness didn't betray. Jeff, Sanit, Mike and Loui were really near to me, with true affection.
Time seemed to soothe my pain. Now ten years have elapsed from that horrible day when they stole from me my Khaled. Right on the exact day when I started to write this text, it was the tenth anniversary day of his death.
Several times, in a gentle way, Jeff tried to tell me that life continues -- he made me notice that he too, when he lost his Dick, felt lost, that he was interested in nothing more, but then he found his Sanit, with whom he was now happy.
It could be that one day I too would find my "Sanit", I cannot exclude it certainly. But the fact is that I still feel too bound to my Khaled, whose shrine I greet several times during the day, I often seat near it to chat with him, to tell him the daily trivial things, and I know that he, in some ways, is listening to me.
At times I ask myself how could be my life if I were not the son of the president... Possibly, or rather most surely, I would not have met Khaled, and therefore he would be still alive, possibly in France, possibly with his lover...
But how weird it seems -- I have at last forgiven my father for wanting to be the president, at my expenses and also at Khaled expenses in some way. I understood that there is no purpose to credit to him all I narrated in these lines. Possibly now I would even be able to meet him again, without grudge, without complaints. If even for the moment I don't still feel at all any need for it.
Well, this is my story that I wanted to tell you. Surely, even though I changed names and dates, those who knew me or my family will understand who my father is, who am I. It is a little more difficult for them to know who Khaled was and where my island is -- of course it would be useless to look for it in Tonga.
At times I ask myself -- if I had to start again my life all from the beginning, repeating all that happened to me, would I do it? The answer is a clear, strong -- yes! Because this would mean I could live those splendid love years with my Khaled again, my strong, sweet, virile, tender Khaled. Yes, it would be worth repeating everything, even the trauma of his murder, just to have his wonderful love again, I have no doubt in this. And I am sure that if they were to ask him, he too would be ready to die ten, a hundred, a thousand more times just to live those years with me again...
But life flows just once, unrepeatable. So we can just live it, day after day, with all the joys and the pains it presents to us, waiting for tomorrow.