Anyway, it was decided. They got me the enrolment for the following school year at Paris University. The French Government, as foreseen, put some conditions to my residence in France, dictated by their concern for my safety, they said. Among them, I had to advise their Security Service about any movement more than fifty kilometres, that is about thirty miles, giving them dates, places and so on.
It was also decided that Bruce would accompany me to Paris. That last condition annoyed me very much, but in the end I thought I had to make the best of things. But I steadfastly refused to sleep in the university dorm and managed to get them to rent a normal apartment for me. They accepted this, I am sure, because they could rent two neighbouring apartment, one for Bruce who could more easily check on me.
A few days prior to my departure, my father summoned me. He gave me a lecture about my responsibilities, then he asked me not to create more problems than I already had. All this in a very civilized way, with the tone of "gentlemen's agreement". I answered that I had no intentions raising problems, but that I simply wanted to live my life and, I underlined with force, my sexuality.
"Anyway," I added, "with your program in favour of Gays, you wouldn't be biased in your judgement against your son, would you?"
He didn't appreciate: "Those concessions were wrung from me, I assure you!" he grumbled irritated.
At last we set out. On the plane, Bruce had the seat next to mine.
Soon after the take off, he said: "Dave, we will have to almost live together for a long while. Don't you think it would be better for both of us to try not to make each other's lives a hell?"
"It's you who is making my life a hell."
"That's not my intentions, believe me. I am just doing my job, I have nothing against you."
"So also the Nazis brought to trial in Nurnberg justified themselves declaring they just carried on their duties." I harshly retorted.
"Dave, really... if you just trusted me... You are Gay and neither you nor I can do nothing about that. You want to quietly live your sexuality and I think you are within your rights. But unhappily for you, you are not a commoner, therefore..."
"It was not I who chose to be born in my family, therefore the responsibility is not mine. Remember what I told you -- if you put spikes in my tires, I will raise more than just a scandal. What do you think, for instance, if during an interview in live broadcast I declared I am Gay and my father tries to prevent me to have my private life, in spite of his declarations pro the Gay community?"
"Don't talk nonsense, you couldn't do such a thing!" Bruce said looking at me in alarm and going pale.
"Not unless I am forced to. It depends on you, not on me."
"Dave, really... seriously..."
"Yes, seriously. While in Paris I want to be able invite to my home whomever I want, to my bed to be more clear!"
"Yes, Dave, if he is not somebody who... Do you understand, a blackmailer or somebody paid to raise a scandal..."
"And how can I know that in advance? And in any event, it's enough he doesn't know who I am, isn't it?"
"You appeared on the TV, in the newspapers. Even if we are not in our country, they can always know, you understand, connect. Just your family name will be enough for..."
"So then, what do you propose, tell me? Do you want be the one to find the right companions for me?" I asked angrily.
"No, surely not, but... If you really find the right companion, it will not be me to put obstacles in your way, that's for sure."
"And on the basis of what will you decide if he is the right one or not?"
"I will do some checking."
"Yeah, can you imagine that? I meet one I like and I tell him 'sorry, can you give me your data, so that my watchdogs can investigate you and, if they give me the green light, we can fuck'. How can you be so silly?"
Bruce was about to give me a sharp answer, I'm more than sure, but chose to keep silent. He had to feel my grudge against him -- without a doubt I didn't like him at all. I watched the movie, just not to be forced to carry on our conversation. Bruce instead started to read a book. Then they gave us a meal. Silence between us was becoming a bit heavy, but I purposefully didn't intend to talk with him.
Just before landing at the De Gaulle airport. Bruce broke the silence: "We will soon arrive. We will be accompanied to the VIP room."
"Can't we avoid that?"
"No. Once there we will meet the men of the French Secret Service, that's part of the agreement, you understand."
"No, I don't understand but in any event, even if I didn't want it, my opinion has no weight, right?"
"It is their country, they set the rules. Somehow, if by chance some accident happened to you in France, they will feel responsible towards our country, do you understand?"
"Stop repeating 'you understand, you understand'!" I retorted dryly.
I was received with deference and we were accompanied to the VIP room where they gave me the welcome with a long and boring speech in my language, spoken almost perfectly. Then they started to explain me what they would do for my security and what they were expecting from me. I feared worse than they asked, even if I continued to envy the common people. Why my father wasn't a simple bank clerk? Then they talked with Bruce, my "connection" with them.
We left without passing through customs. In a ministerial car we were taken to our Embassy. Here more greetings and two words with the man of our secret services. Then, at last, this time with a car of the Embassy, we were accompanied to the apartments they rented for me and Bruce.
My apartment was composed of a foyer, a small reception room, a more than adequate kitchen, a den or office, a living room for formal affairs, bedroom and bathroom. It was fairly large, on the sixth and top floor of an old building downtown. There was also a broad terrace on the roof that I immediately liked very much. The weather was splendid and from there it was possible to see the old part of the capital. The apartment was wrapped around three sides of the terrace. Bruce apartment was on the same floor, but overlooked the street. There were no other apartments on that floor. There was a very modern elevator, the car, all glass, at the centre of the semicircular stairway.
But above all, there was no watchman, and I appreciated that. The apartment was all furnished with new pieces, of a modern design, neither beautiful nor bad. There was the telephone, two TV sets and a stereo. The fridge was already full and in the kitchen there was everything one could need to cook and to eat. In the closet the linen, in the toilet the toilet paper and in the bathroom all one could need for the personal hygiene. In short, it was ready to live in.
My luggage was brought up. Bruce told me that he would come back later and went to his apartment to settle in. I undid my luggage and put my belongings in order. I would live there for some years, so I would gradually personalize it. I didn't certainly lack money, my father granted me a good monthly allowance that would be sent to a bank account they already opened at my name -- I had just to go to deposit my signature.
They told me that I could eat at home or out as I liked and that each morning a "dependable" person will come to clean my apartment and that of Bruce while I was at the university. I was sure that the "dependable" person they chose would nose in my things when I was not home, that it was somebody paid by, or even a member of our secret service.
All the same I was determined to carry on my life as I wanted. The bed was small double bed. I smiled to myself -- they chose a compromise between the single bed I feared to find and a double bed I hoped for? I plunged on it, the mattress was as I liked, not too soft and straight. And in the closet there was a soft feather quilt. I just found somewhat odd the cylindrical pillow, like a huge salami, but it was not bad. "Soon you will host others bodies, beside mine!" I thought with a secret pleasure caressing the mattress near me.
With my things put away, I went to shower. I was barely out of it, when the door bell rung. I pulled on my bathrobe and went to open it. Of course it was Bruce. He asked me if I wanted to go out to eat or if I would rather fix something at home.
"I don't know, I've not yet decided."
"Regardless, tomorrow morning we will go to the bank, then to the university."
"We?" I asked making him understand I didn't see why he had to come with me.
"At least for the first time -- also an official of the Embassy will come with us."
"Good, so much more I don't see why you have to tag along."
He looked at me seriously, then said: "All right as you like. You really don't want to put an end to hostilities, right Dave?"
"It was not I who started them."
"Nor I, I can assure you. Anyway..."
"Come in!" I said moving aside to let him enter. He seemed hesitant, then entered. I had him sit on the drawing room. "So, what are your intentions?"
"It depends from the intentions you have." he answered sitting down.
I sat in front of him. On purpose I let my bathrobe open a little in front, to provoke him. He never looked between my legs, but I knew he was conscious of my half exposed nakedness.
"What are my intentions? To find some handsome boy to take in my bed, or taking me in his own."
"And how?"
"I don't know. Going to dances at Gay discos, I presume. How will you do it, to find a girl for yourself? Going to dance, attending the places that girls attend, right? To find a boy is not so easy, if you don't go where men looking for men go."
"Yes, but..."
"Listen, I never went in a Gay club, I never could until now. I don't even know if I will like them or not. But I have to start somewhere. Unless you have a better idea, besides looking for a hustler for me."
Bruce didn't answer.
"If you are worried at the idea I can go cruising in the public facilities or in the parks at night, you can sleep between two pillow, I'm not at all attracted at the idea. I too have absolutely no intentions to find myself in trouble. And I will for sure not go around telling who I am. Rather, if I could, I'll like to change my name, I swear." I said.
He nodded but was thoughtful.
"Listen, I can't change my name, not officially at least. But I can put another name at my door, use another name when I go around."
"No, it would just become a problem -- at school you have to use your own and... no,"
"Well, if someone connects my name with that of my father, I can say it's just a boring coincidence."
"Unhappily you resemble too much to your father, you have the family air. I don't believe it would work. Anyway, at the door, we can leave the number as it is often the custom here and not to put on your name."
I didn't think of that possibility and I felt almost grateful to him for that suggestion. About the fact I resembled my father, unhappily for me, it was true. But...
"If I dyed my hair and if instead of the contact lenses I wore glasses..." I said.
Bruce looked at me for a while, like studying me, then said: "Yes. Yes you could do that, I think."
"And perhaps also letting my beard grow." I added already seized in my fantasy about the best way not to be recognized.
"Anyway we will have to let the Secret Services know of these changes." Bruce said at half voice, almost as if he feared my reaction.
"Well, that's your job, isn't it?" I said shrugging my shoulders -- that was an unavoidable evil.
It seemed that Bruce's attitude was a little more friendly. I asked myself if it was just scene in my favour or if... I decided to try him.
"Anyway, I decided to go out for supper. Alone. I'll go somewhere around here, not far. I don't think I can find a nice boy so, on the spot, but if it happened I want to be free to hook him and eventually to take him home." Bruce didn't react. "You say nothing?" I teased him.
"I just hope you will be prudent and that I don't need to clean it up it afterwards. Anyway, what can I do? I am between the devil and the deep blue sea, so to speak. You are determined to have your way, and I have to see that what you do doesn't enter in conflict with your father's interests."
"You chose your job." I said him with the tone which told him, 'you asked for it and now you keep it!'.
He nodded, then said in a low voice: "But I couldn't guess that..." and stopped.
"That I am Gay? You can always resign, if this is too much of a burden for you, can't you?"
"I watched you grow up, or possibly I have to say that in some ways I raised you. Who knows why one becomes Gay and the other not?"
I laughed: "I don't think one becomes Gay. I think one is so, from birth."
"Theories are many, but none serious or sure, or at least not absolute."
"Well, since one doesn't know why a person is Gay or not, one should just take note of it."
"Right, if just it didn't stir up so many problems."
"The problems exist only for he who creates them for himself. I am happy being Gay. Well, that is not quite right -- no more and no less happy than being blond or tall or a male, anyway. I am Gay and that's that. I have no regrets. Besides the problems are those that you, and the society put on me."
Bruce didn't answer. He stood up: "Well, Dave. Anyway, even if my duty weighs heavily on you, I would like that we could always communicate like we just did. And that you didn't consider me as to a Nazi criminal."
I smiled, satisfied that my accusation obtained its effect. "It's enough for me if you don't think about me as a problem to eliminate." I answered standing up at my turn and seeing him at the door. He gave me his hand, almost as in a peace offering, I gave him mine.
It was not that evening, nor the day after, and neither in the immediately following days that I managed to find somebody with whom at last make love. And neither I did start to brazenly cruise, that's certain. The next day, first I went in a barber shop where I changed my hair style and dyed it a light brown, then we went to buy the glasses. We went to the bank to deposit my signature, and then to the university.
The lessons weren't starting until a month later, so I began to explore the city. One of the first things I did was to buy several gay magazines and a gay guide at a newspaper stand downtown. These simple acts gave me a strong sense of freedom -- it was almost a symbol, for me, of a change. Nobody knew me and the people watching over me did it with discretion. In any event, inside myself I decided not to worry about my controllers and to live as if they didn't exist. At least as long as they didn't get in my way.
I also bought a map of Paris and using the gay guide I marked out on the map all the places where were gay clubs, saunas, pubs, discos or movies and I marked them with highlighter of various colours. Then I hung the map in the studio. I intended to visit all of them, at least once.
Then I also looked for a gym near my home -- I wanted to resume my physical training to keep a good shape. I found one about a ten minute walk from my apartment, of medium size, well enough equipped, and saw that the majority of the clients were young as well as the instructors. I enrolled and set up a schedule.
I was in Paris for a couple of weeks, classes had not yet started but I already bought all the books of the list that the registrar gave to me. I met Bruce from time to time, but we never again broached that subject and anyway it is not as if we spent our time together. We were like two neighbours just knowing each other and limiting themselves to greet each other when they meet.
In the mornings around ten, from Monday to Friday, a young lady came to clean my home, she did also the laundry, ironed and left around noon. Her name was Josiane, she was about thirty year old, she was quiet, efficient and spoke my language fluently and with a delicious French accent. She had the house key, but before entering she always rung the bell, possibly because she knew I hadn't yet begun classes at the university and waited for me to open. She suggested to me, when I would be no more at home when she came, to leave her a note on the kitchen table if I desired something to be done before the usual or in a particular way.
One of the first things I did as soon as I arrived in Paris was to write to Rick. I soon received his answer -- he was really happy I was now somewhat more free, he promised me that he would come to visit me, and he asked me if I already found a companion. He was still with Klaus and seemed happy. In his second letter he also sent me his picture with his boyfriend.
I asked myself, if they came to see me, where could I have them sleep. So I decided to change the sofa in the living room with a double divan bed. I asked Bruce about it and he made the change. Another change I made was to contact a landscape designer to have some green in the wide terrace. For a reasonable amount of money, the terrace was transformed in a kind of roof garden, with a bower between drawing room and living, and with a kind of thick wall of bushes secluding the part of the terrace in front of my bedroom. They finished it all just a few days. I charged Josiane to water the garden.
And I also started my tour of the gay establishments. In a sauna I finally had my first little adventure. A young man started to hang around me, I liked him, and I let him understand it. He sat near me, cornered me. While we were chatting, he stared to caress my thigh and I was at once aroused. After a while he invited me to follow him in a relaxing cubicle. We spread our wet towels on the mattress and started making love. I really needed it, it was agreeable. At the beginning I was slightly annoyed by the fact that from time to time somebody peeped in from the curtain of the doorway, but soon I got used to that and rather I was excited at the thought I could safely have sex spied by lusty eyes.
When satisfied after a long sixty nine we left the cubicle, and he asked me if we could meet again. I answered that I didn't think so. In fact I still wanted to look around some more, attend other gay places, to chose where I would go again. We didn't even introduce ourselves. After a while I saw him approaching another boy as he had with me.
An effeminate young boy came towards me, greeted me and said: "I've noticed you have a beautiful, big tool. I would like to be fucked by you."
I looked at him somewhat amazed, I didn't expect so direct an approach.
"I'm just about to leave." I excused myself.
"What a pity! Don't you have at least five minutes? I would like at least to give you head," he said slipping his hand under my towel and fondling it, "I'm really good at it, do you know?" he added coyly.
"All right, but just five minutes." I at once surrendered, almost without hesitation.
"Come, then." he said with a triumphant smile.
He led me in another cubicle, made me lie down and at once busied himself on my member. He really was an expert!
When he saw I was fully aroused, he insisted: "Please, fuck me." he begged.
It was a first for me and decided to try. I made him get on all four and lay over him. He guided me inside him and I sank in his hot channel like a hot knife in butter. It was great feeling him tossing and moaning under me, even if for my taste he was too effeminate. But he was nevertheless skilled with his hole and he gave me a great orgasm.
I went back home satisfied. My pilgrimage to the gay clubs continued systematically. I felt like living in a dream. There, I could freely flirt, court, and let them court me, and then also easily have pleasant adventures. I never dreamed I could one day experience such a freedom, even if just in the specialized places, be able to approach a man and let him understand I liked him, I desired him, was for me a completely new and pleasurable experience. Being approached and feel to be desired, was exalting, ending up with somebody and following him at his place or in a love hotel room, let him undress me, undress him, make love without worry.
In the beginning I decided not to take home any of my occasional partners. Not so much and not only out of prudence, but because I felt that I would take to my home only someone with whom I was starting something serious and not just a one night stand. And at the beginning I was just interested in that. It was somewhat as if I wanted to make up for lost time, for the time when I could only dream...
I was in France for a few months, I don't remember clearly, possibly four or five, when I met Khaled. He was a boy from Morocco, really handsome. He was two years older than I, also a university student. I felt fascinated, besides his slender, strong and harmonious body, besides his wide smile, by his dark eyes, luminous and deep that seemed able to looks at you in the deepest of your soul.
I met him in a disco. He was dancing alone, and he was terribly sexy. I felt attracted by him, so I started to dance in front of him, staring at him. He smiled and continued to dance, but always facing me, caressing me with his eyes. His eyes didn't abandon me a single moment, it was evident he liked me and this aroused me very much. I smiled at him. He smiled back. When I went to the bar to have a drink, he soon came at my side. I smiled him again and asked him if I could offer him a drink.
"Yes, thank you. But only non-alcoholics..." he said, then added, "I'm a good Muslim..."
I didn't think him to be an Arab or a North African, rather a Latin. This made me curious. We went to sit to a small table. While he was slowly sipping his fruit juice, he asked me where I was from, if I was a tourist, what was my name. He told me about himself -- he was studying electronics at the university, he was living in an apartment he shared with three young people of his same country, one a student like him and the other two workers, and that he was the youngest of them all. I asked him if also his mates were Gay.
He smiled: "In the Arab culture, a man would never admit he is Gay, except for me. All have girlfriends, sooner or later they will most certainly marry, they will be happy fathers and husbands, even if at times they don't turn down a pretty boy. I am too old for them, anyway, and have a too manly body."
"But, are you Gay?"
"Sure. And I like men, not boys."
"Am I too young for you?" I asked cunningly, with a smile.
"No, you are young but you are just OK. Do you already have a boyfriend?"
"No, and you?"
"Neither. So, we both are free. What do you think about... do you have a place?"
"No." I answered as usual.
"Then you can come at my place, if that's okay with you."
"But... and the others?"
"In my room I do what I like."
"Do they know you are Gay?"
"Sure. And they don't object. Are you coming, then?"
"Yes."
We went to his apartment. His mates were in the living room, we could hear their voices speaking Arab. From the entrance, where a colour portrait of the Ayatollah Khomeini stood out, he bade me enter in his room. "I'll just warn the others I have a guest, so they will leave us in peace. I'll be quick, make yourself comfortable." he said with a smile pointing at his bed, and left.
I looked around. The room was furnished in a mix of Arab and Western style, rather agreeable even if with inexpensive objects. On his desk a switched off computer and at its side a basket with fruits. In the bookshelf several books in Arab, but also in French and English, those last mainly of electronics, but also novels.
He came back, smiling like usual. He locked the door, put on some rap music, came close to me and started to undress me and himself, in silence. He gently pushed me on the bed and came on top of me. We made love for a long while, with calm and with passion. I liked it very much. When he made me understand he wanted me, I readily offered myself to him. He took me with extreme gentleness and yet with virility and caring to give to me too the utmost pleasure. He took me really for a long while. I loved feeling his long and hard rod slipping back and forth inside me with such might and gentleness at the same time. He did so until we reached the orgasm together. And afterward he caressed and kissed me for a long time, whispering me words filled with sweetness.
When I was preparing to leave him, I asked him if and when we could meet again -- it was the first time I told someone, that I desired to meet them again. I was a little disappointed when he said that in two days he was going to Morocco.
"I'll stay there for a couple of months, but then, I'll come back. I too would like to meet you again. If you come to that disco, we could meet again."
I was even more disappointed. That was the classical sentence to say no, I thought, or else he would have given me his telephone number or asked mine. I didn't insist. He wanted to see me to the underground station.
Taking advantage of the fact that it was deserted, he gave me a fast kiss and said: "It has been really great, thank you." and he went back home.
Well, I thought to console myself while I was going back home, it has been a really great adventure, anyway.
In the following days I went to the clubs I decided to continue to go, those I liked better -- three or four bars and a disco, that one where I met Khaled. I didn't go any more to the saunas -- there one went only to fuck, and I was interested, now, to get friends. I also hoped, sooner or later, to meet somebody with whom I could start a serious relationship. Anyway, if I wanted more adventures, also in those clubs I chose I could find them.
With Bruce, we met from time to time, mainly in the stairs, and we swapped a few words. It seemed that the truce we established was holding on. I was amazed that he didn't try to nose in my private life -- it was true that anyway I was watched on (discretely but unfailingly) by the French Secret Service with whom he was most certainly in contact. But I was somewhat astounded, I didn't believe he wouldn't pry any more.