A Blind date

“The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying of the sun…”

                                                                                      - Francis William Bourdillon

 

 

Between Hope and Fear

“I Know Him So Well”

 

At sharp 23:53 hours I was at the crossroads between the Central station and the imposing Le Meridian, between my insipid past and uncertain night ahead. I called him once again to ask about his whereabouts. The husky tone replied “right behind you”. As I turned back, the moment seemed like eternity and yet so awaited. There stood a handsome young man with sharp features, sparkling eyes, charming countenance and a million dollar smile. Never in my life had I craved for beauty so much, never in life would I claim to be blessed so little. Even before I could say a word, he embraced me and gave me a kiss. The warm breath from his mouth, the manhood of his arms wrapped around me, the kiss on my cheek… they all seem to penetrate my skin, and my soul and I felt naked…..

  

Young boy with a cat- Renoir,

1868-69, Musee d’Orsay, Paris 

 

 

The Promenade

“If You Say My Eyes Are Beautiful”

 

We walked by the streets, traveled on a tram and walked again. I had been to this city before, but this time it looked different. May be because it was in the façade of the night for the first time or because I was with him. He tried to comfort me by showing some architecture and talking about my looks-in-person. But all the while I was hardly listening because my mind was preoccupied with something more memorable and beautiful… his ‘Eyes’.   

While we were a couple of hundred meters away from his apartment, he steered me away from a group of Turkish drunkards passing comments about us. I asked him “What did they say?” He took sometime to reciprocate and then replied with a smirk “Which one is going to suck, the white one or the colored!”

La Promenade, Renoir

1870, Oil on Canvas, Paris

 

Atelier du Peintre (Painter’s studio)

“Shock me”

 

We entered his apartment that seemed pretty large for a single boy and more than impressive for someone working part time at a restaurant. Nevertheless, it was beautiful and cozy. We also had a host besides him, a cute adorable cat whose stomach made more noise than a man’s snore and whose placid eyes reminded me of my ex-lover. We all seemed undetermined of my reason of presence. So all I could do is to ask for a hug- the only thing I missed since we met.

  

The Artist’s Studio- Gustave Courbet, 1855

Musee d’Orsay, Paris 

 

He got up and walked up to his computer and played tracks by Whitney Houston. She was his favorite just like he was mine for the night… While I was trying to immerse myself in the melody, he was busy turning off all the lights in his apartment and replacing them with scented candles of different colors and shapes.

 

From that moment onwards whatever happened between us was like a man’s dream, a sinner’s regret and a lover’s prayer.

 

All this while I was trying my best to fathom what was going on his mind. Was he happy to see me or disappointed? Was he awaiting a kiss or a simple touch? I knew he had broken up with his boyfriend few days ago and was as lonely as a mystic valley ready to suck the first ray at the crack of dawn, someone to hold his hands before he falls apart. Out of impulse I made him lie down on my lap, caressed his frivolous hair and tried to make him forget the pain. I felt that although I was with him, he was somewhere else with someone else. And so I asked him “Are you happy that I am here?” He replied “Yes” with a smile  and eyes turned away. It was a lie. He then asked me “When was the last time I was with a man”… in bed or bathroom or in one another’s heart? I replied that it was with my ex-lover until the day he called me the ‘ugliest shit face on this planet’. While those words still lingered in my mind I heard him say “May be you are…” The words from his mouth pierced my heart like an arrow; I had never felt so vulnerable before. I looked down and he was staring right into my eyes……

 

 

The Venationes

“Could I Have This Kiss Forever”

 

As promised, I volunteered to give him a massage and a bath. So I took off his shoes (which seemed as tough as the battle of waterloo) and then his shirt and trousers (which made me feel as inexplicable as a woman giving birth to a pre mature baby). His lustrous hair wavering down his face, and indignant eyes quivering under his eyelashes, the smooth flawless skin, the tiniest little pubic hair visible above his underwear rim and last but not the least, his hairy robust legs… they all seemed to be a part of a game, a game we were about to play, a game where I was destined to loose and he was born to win. He was almost naked….

 

 Like a man teaching his new born to walk, like a whore seducing his nubile handsome client, I held his finger and took him to the bedroom. The room had transformed into a colosseum, a public hunting ground where I was the slave, vulnerable and ready to be slain; he: the Gladiator, powerful and equipped; and the cat: the spectator waiting to watch the massacre. As he lay down on his chest I spread his legs wide and his hands outstretched. Little would have Da Vinci imagined how more sacrilegious it is to behold a living Vitruvian than just infamous corpses. I got up on him and started massaging. Although, this was the second time I touched his body it was different. There was a lust for sin and a desire for young flesh. The seeds of Avarice had started to germinate….

 

As I ran my fingers and palm through his waist, I could sense the ghastly contrast between my darker skin and his milky white texture. But I had to make that realization inconspicuous before I turned him on his back…facing me. This was probably the most erotic moment of the night; I was sitting on the groin of a young, hot, masculine, European boy rubbing and molesting his chest and ripe breasts, greasing his nipples with my saliva. All that moment my mind was swarmed with mixed feelings… of lust and love, of triumph and travesty, of voyeurism and victory. After my hands had traversed the precarious curves of his body and my tongue had relished the sweet taste of his pierced navel and velvet armpits… it was time for ‘la décadence de l’homme’ (the decadence of man). He moaned and contorted in an ineffable way slowly dragging his fingers up my knees unto my rear. Then he gradually run his fingers up to my temple and pulled my face towards his lips. As he licked them with his tongue, we both engaged in a fair play like two truants in the college bathroom, like two consenting adults engaging in a moment of deceitful love. We kissed and smooched, not sure for how long until we decided to take a step ahead. Lying on his back with his virile legs on my shoulders, as I tried pulling down his under wear, I was amazed to see pictures of Mickey mice and Donald ducks on it. But this was just the beginning as the ‘real surprise’ was hiding below it.

Once I had recuperated from the exotic discovery below the underwear, he ordered me to strip. Like a man under a spell I followed his orders. Once I was done with my shirt and trousers, he lay me down gently on the bed and came right over to my face. As if he could read my mind, as if he could foresee what was coming, he put his index finger on my lips and said “Just enjoy this”. I would not in a hundred years have been able to fathom what he meant until the very next moment. His eyes still riveted on mine he slowly dragged his face down until I could see him no longer. With his finger still on my lips, he pulled down my under garment with the other hand; I tried crossing my legs but he was stronger to resist. The last thing I heard him say was “ Waaaawwww!”

After about five minutes he came up to me with the same smile he had gone down with and whispered with a heave “C’est magnifique! (It’s great)” 

Soon I found myself under his huge body… which at that moment seemed like a love machine designed to make love in the most voracious way, engineered to overcome any non-sexual instinct. I gave myself to him. He kissed me and grabbed me, tucked my legs with his thighs, pressed my rear cheeks and bit my chin as I tilted my face up; he was winning….

 

 

 Before the Mirror

“If I told you that”

 

I had to get up intermittently to ensure his bath preparation was in progress. Despite some hiccups, it was finally ready. Meanwhile, we were in the bathroom, kissing and hugging and least not to mention; he was trying hard to make me worthy for the night through quite painful methods. I checked on the water and he shut the door, I lit the candles and he turned off the lights. He was behind me and I could see his reflection on the mirror devouring my body. It reminded me of Stanley Kubrick’s controversial ‘Eyes wide shut’ where Tom Cruise lashes his tongue on Nicole in the pretty same way. As I moved down his body, kissing his privates, I could see through my third eye, a new look emerging from his face. Happiness was giving in to pleasure and innocence to eroticism. He asked me in his usual husky voice “Which part of a man’s body you like most?” His face already spelt out the answer he wanted to hear. But I made him wait….

 

 

“First are his eyes that open the door to the soul, then his lips that impart a gesture of love, then the shoulders that embodies power to overcome and arms that captivates your senses.

The last part of the man’s body never came to my mouth; instead I took it in… Slowly as he grabbed the wash basin’s edge with one hand and my hair with the other, I could feel his pelvic oscillating as he plunged it in my mouth with a moan. After a while we both were sitting wrapped against each other like the ‘Kama sutra engaged in copulation’.

 

Before the Mirror- Edouard Manet,  

1876, Guggenheim Museum 

 

 Les grandes baigneuses (The Grand bath)

“Hold me”

 The prince was prepared for the royal ‘bath’. He was ushered into the tub and I was rubbing the soap cake on his back and chest, legs and privates. I entertained him with stories of girls interested in me and those craving to have a piece of him. He often stared at me like a baby boy innocent and agile. It was that look which at times made me despise myself as if I was a sinner… although I wasn’t aware of the sin. He invited me to the tub and gave me a bath too. I was leaning on his chest while he fondled my body and privates. The steam rising from the hot water, his tender hands caressing my skin, the mild throb of his heart on my back and the seldom flicker of the candle flames in sync with the music – there are three forms of desire, we say, in life: Desire of ambition, of Necessity and Fetish. We just fulfilled two of them….

 I had closed my eyes and was wishing that this moment had come to a standstill when suddenly he came close to me with his arms around my chest and whispered:

 

“Just to let you know that you are a very beautiful man. So it does not matter what your ex-lover had told you a year back or what I said few moments ago. All that matters is what you think about yourself and how much you love yourself”.

The Grand bath- Cezanne Paul, 1900-05

Merion, Pennsylvania 

 

I turned over him and kissed his wet skin, licked his lips and nipples as he spread his legs wide open. Then slowly he pushed me down and I knew what he wanted. As I lashed my tongue and stroked his privates deep and relentlessly I could hear him writhe and contort and sometimes moan. But I never looked at him as his sound was aggravating my animal instinct and was afraid that his fragile face would kill it again. Once I was satisfied I decided to move up to him. He was quiet and his face appeared like a field just ravaged by a storm, except for the fact that there was a tiny drop of water trickling down his eyes. Unsure if it was water or sweat, pleasure or pain, I licked it with a stroke. It tasted salty and purer….

 

After a while we started sweating profusely, not sure if it was the hot water or the friction or the fire within. But whatever happened in between us, the moans and laughs, the fellatio and nibbling, the sweat and tears, the confessions and whispers; they all seemed blended yet so distinct; not in my mind nor in his eyes, but someone else’s who was sitting right on the window sill; his eyes wide open, reflecting the flames of the candles and emanating the desire of being a man…..

 

 

 

The truth

“Moment of truth”

 

We got out of the tub and he wore a blood red towel gown, something that he lied to have never worn earlier. The stark contrast of his ‘pista’ colored eyes, pinkish tinge on his cheeks, his pink and white body and the red gown: he was the ‘master of seduction with all survival instincts’.  “What is the thing you like most in sex?” he asked. Although for a moment the word ‘sex’ sounded promiscuous and cheap like the girls in RLD Amsterdam, but I tried to hide my disappointment. I said “Anything that makes my partner happy…. provided he is mine”. While I spoke, my head was down and could not look into his eyes. For the truth was out …. What we did was nothing different than sex and nowhere close to love making…..

 

While I was wiping myself, he picked up a tiny packet and shoved it into his gown pocket. I knew what it was, and he knew that I did; although he refused to disclose the same when I queried. There was a smile on his face, a mockery to my feelings but I stayed somnolent. He held my hands and took me to his bedroom. The only thing he said in that journey was “I will be kind to you”……

 

At times in life we crave for something and at times we get to choose the same or expect something better. The time had come….

 

 

The other side of midnight

“After We Make Love”

 

We went to the bedroom and I knew that he wanted to do it, but I said as faintly as I could “Let’s not do it the first time and I know there won’t be a second”. Quite unexpectedly he agreed and mumbled few words in my ears. Then pulled down my towel and slipped down his gown. The phosphor lamps on the streets peeping through the windows, his naked flesh and nubile body, his intriguing smile: they all seemed perfect for a masterpiece that the Artist had spent his life to capture, a Sfumato in the true sense of life….

We got into bed and I tried to cover him with a quilt but he threw it away like a child and exclaimed “I don wanna sleep now!” And like an adolescent teen he whispered “We can talk later, let’s have fun….” There was his distinctive smile again, a smile drenched in fantasy, a noise soaked in temptation. He got over me again and started stroking deep with his fingers, kissing me hard, and pushing his phallus deep between my legs. It was exhilarating, my body was enjoying every moment of it but my soul was crying…..

 

As we lay beside each other, I licked his nipples as I knew that it arouse him the most. We ‘made love’ and finally gave in. Our maleness was all over our body, warm and soft just like his individuality. After we cleaned up, we went to bed exhausted and probably satisfied. He then offered me to sleep or even leave his apartment.

All this time he wanted me to spend the night with him, give him company and talk about art and music. Now that we were done “Does he want to get rid of me? Is that all he wanted from a friend? Was that all I meant to him?” I did not dare answer these questions, probably because I was a coward or not a man…..

 

All this time we were partners in the play, but now I entered the solo act….

 

 

The cradle

“I’m Your Baby Tonight”

 I mumbled a lullaby to him, patted and caressed his hair gently until he fell asleep. For the next few minutes I indulged in an experience and fun in my own ways. His eyelashes prominent as ever, his wet hair fallen flat on his neck, the intermittent quiver of his lips as he licked them with his tongue; he was asleep and I saw it! He was beautiful and vulnerable yet smart. Probably I could compliment him with every attribute analogous to ‘beauty’ except one… He wasn’t sexy. As I have read, “To call someone ‘sexy’ is to admire someone whom you can’t love”, and (unfortunately for me) that is what he was all about and that is what he deserved….. 

 I had come to take care and pamper a prince in need for company and here I was staring at the same ‘child in time’ in need for a Man… The rest of the night I did not sleep, not just for his unearthly heart ripping wakeup in the middle; but I was regretting…

 

 The Cradle – Berthe Morisot,

1873,Musee d’Orsay, Paris

 

The next morning I got up, got dressed and he was eager to call a taxi. While I was tying my shoe-lace the cat kept cuddling by my side. Sometimes he yawned and rattled his whiskers, then licked my hand and pulled my shoe string. On my way to the door he continually pounced before my foot and fell on his back, as if trying to stop me or begging me to be there for his master, to take care of him and make love to him everyday and every night. At the doorstep, I asked him if he would like to come and visit me in my town. He replied “Yes” but we (the cat and I) heard it as ‘No’.  As I left, I gave him a hug although it felt as dead as my uncherished desire. When I walked out I heard the door shut behind me and I felt as if I was one of ‘them’, except that I didn’t get paid ….

 

 The ‘venationes’ was over. And not a drop of blood was shed….

 

 

The Revelation

“Someone for Me”

 

Today, the last thing I want to remember is the last thing I cared to see before I left; his wide eyes which all this while I mistook to be filled with envy was infact pity and what I presumed to be dismay was just disgrace. Lying on the floor or on the window sill as an observer, the only message he was trying to convey was the truth: of who I am and what I cannot be……

 

 

“…The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.”

                                                                        – Francis William Bourdillon