Don't Read in the Closet volume one (77 page)

After months of
hope and anticipation, my idol stands in touching distance, his smile inviting
contact. I gaze at the fine details of beauty that drug my brain. For the first
time, I can examine the intricacies of his distinctive birth characteristics,
of the delicate sculpturing and chiselling that make him unique and remarkable
and succulently addictive. My gaze wanders over them like a carousel, each scan
absorbing more minute detail of cock hardening beauty. He stands calm under my
intense inspection. I dart to his eyes, those orbs of bittersweet expressions,
gazing into pale oceanic tranquillity, noticing the minute artistry of his
sensual eyelids, guarded by cute black lashes, and the stunning natural
grooming of his brows.

Weaving lower,
I dwell on the lips that capture my devotion and agitate my libidinal impulses.
I view their perfect form, balance and
proportion,
they enchant my gaze more than ever. Their softness radiates affection. Their
sensuous colours titillate my nerves,
bulging
my fly.
Spellbound, I raise a shy finger, glancing,
then
drifting under his left eye, savouring the first touch of his skin. He remains
placid, gentle eyes watching. Encouraged, I continue alongside his nose,
pausing beside his lips before feathering across the upper and returning over
the lower. I smile, hoping he cannot hear my thumping heart or sounds of minute
sighs or see the slight body tics of my stunned excitement. He seizes and
envelops my withdrawing hand in a soft glove of his sweet flesh.

****

Finally, I’m at
the verge of meeting him, at the brink of exclaiming all my emotions and
feelings, all those hungers that cause my jerking, pumping wrist to plaster my
passion juice everywhere, every night, and under the shower and other places. I
gulp. “Um, hi,” I stammer.

“Hi.”

“Want a
boyfriend?” slithered from my lips, shocking me. I clamp a covering hand over
my dumb mouth.

He stares at my
wide startled eyes and crimson blush, and chuckles and nods, easing my
apprehension while we shake hands. I raise his to my lips, waltzing over the
smooth back and along each finger, imagining them phallic all-day suckers,
wanting to gobble them up. He cups my cheeks and raises my lips towards his, my
mouth warming to his breath, my heart in spasms to the dream coming true. His
breathtaking eyes comfort me as his lips float over mine, like faint flaps of a
cupid’s wing. I feel enraptured. But, what the hell? In for a penny, in for a
pound, no moment like now. I grip his neck, mashing our lips how I imagined
every day for months, meeting eager acceptance. Sentient resonances of our
greeting waft between us, the most romantic and heart warming murmurs I’ve ever
heard, the flavours of his lips and tongue the best brew I’ve ever tasted.

“Well, I’m glad
that’s over,” he said, surfacing for air.

“Um, do you
greet all your prospective boyfriends this way?” I ask, puffing.

“Only the
cutest, charming ones. You’re the first.”

I cup his face
and glide his lips to mine again, not wanting to waste moments from their
succulency. “I’ve dreamed of meeting you.”

“So have I,
Ben.” He huffs, after another lip attack, squeezing me. “Come and sit. After
all that I need a coffee. How do you like yours?”

“With you.
Preferably naked,” I blurt, again blushing, noticing his shy smiling response.
I wonder how he knows my name while I watch him working the espresso machine,
reflected in the mirror above his desk alcove. I continue staring, watching the
face I adore approach, watching the body I want to ravish arrive, table the
mugs and sit beside me in one fluid movement.

“I’m glad the
attractions of a male admirer don’t offend you.”

He laughed, his
renewed smile fusing my gaze again to his lips and eyes, creating hell in my
groin. “Not by you. In fact, you make me feel flattered and appreciated
and…wanted.”

Moments pass
while I ponder his reply, scanning his face, oblivious to my rampaging
romantic, yet disgustingly erotic thoughts. “Why then did you take all this
time to recognise me?”

He paused,
examining me. “I’m shy and uptight, Ben. In the end, my father convinced me to
ease my defensive instincts and not let my personal issues stand in the way
anymore. He knows about you.”

“Defensive
instincts?”

“Yes. I’ve been
hurt before. I don’t want to suffer again, and besides I have…”

“Personal
issues? Like marriage?”

“I’m not
married, what causes you to think I am.”

“The ring you
wear on occasions.”

“Oh, of course.
I find the ring protects me from danger at times.”

“From what?”

His smile
disappeared. “Bullies, out to make life difficult.”

“Why?”

“A couple of
reasons.” He creased his lips. “I’ll tell you one day, not now.”

Something
personal, I thought. “I’m curious how you know my name,” observing his intent
inspection of my face.

“Family secret,
my friend. You’ll find out soon,” his smile re-emerging.

“Am I also not
to know your name? Another family secret?”

“I’m sorry, I
thought you knew. Antonios, Tony for short.”

I nod, his name
now blazing in neons over all the thoughts, reminisces and impressions etched
in my mind.

“Delicious
coffee, Tony. What do you do here?”

“I own the
business, so I do whatever’s necessary. My father bought the old rundown café
for me, to provide a secure income later in life.”

“What do you
mean?”

“Oh, never
mind.”

His smile faded
and the distant look, I noticed on occasions, crept into his eyes. A
contemplative pause settled over us. “I’m beginning to think you’re a man of
secrets.”

He chuckled.
“Well, my friend, a wise gentleman once wrote one should maintain some
innermost secrets, especially when first meeting
a sexy,
god-damned delicious heart throb
of a stranger. I agree with his wisdom,
do you?”

I nod, gleaming
at him. “I suppose I have to, for now.”

“After all, to
be stripped of all the titbits of one’s nefarious affairs and devious desires
and to have the innate uniqueness of one’s body and mind laid bare on the first
meeting, would tend to make subsequent liaisons less interesting, wouldn’t you
agree, mmmm?”

“Um, to the
contrary, I think the romance of the affair, the love and cuddling and
foreplay, and the intimacy and the sex would improve, on each occasion.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Practice
makes perfect, you know. Only if of course, he is a chivalrous stranger and not
a disguised demented sex maniac, only intent on rutting activities.”

“Mmmm, you
excite me. Perhaps we should find out.”

“What? To
discover if each intimate liaison improves or if I am a sexual demon?”

“Both.”

“I’d like that
very much, an opportunity to show how wickedly sexy I am.”

He grinned, his
gaze settling on the desk. Another pause dented our chat. I noticed his humour
fade to a solemn demeanour, a slight tremor irritate his lips.

“Have you ever
had a serious boyfriend or lover, Ben, a person of integrity with genuine
intentions?”

“Not really.
Casual acquaintances, yes. Devoted lovers, no. Have you?”

“The same, all
ending unhappily. Always being used, never enjoying reciprocation.”

“Are you
lonely, I mean romantically and all?” I ask.

“Extremely.”

“So am I.”

“Not any more,
I hope, Ben. I’d love you to be my friend, and see where our friendship leads.”

“I’m glad your
father convinced you to open to me Tony, ‘cuz, after months of craving you,
your wish is a dream come true.”

He grabbed my
hand, curving and clenching his fingers over mine. “I’ll introduce you to him,
although you already know him, and when you learn about me, I hope and pray to
God you won’t change your mind and desert me.”

A chilling
alarm disturbed my peace, observing some untapped, uneasy emotion troubling his
eyes. I sensed if I showed uncertainty, I’d lose him, but probably avoid some
issue, major in his mind, more likely irrelevant to me. Yet despite the
emotional conflict, his sincerity, honesty and respect, virtues I admire, shone
through, gripping my heart. Jumping into the unknown, being the quixotic
dreamer as always, I replied, “I promise, my friend,” noticing his eyes mist.
“I won’t,” clenching his fingers and leaning to calm the lips of the man I
love, want and won.

****

His beautiful
words serenade my mind, enrapturing my heart with his perceptions and
observations gleaned from his rewarding life. “Love is the noblest of
emotions,” he continued in his worldly lilt, couching each word with warm
tenderness. “For love is the language of the heart, the passion of one’s soul,”
he whispered, prompting me to lean closer. He paused, his mellow eyes gazing to
a spot in his garden, sad, contemplative, perhaps reflecting a bygone sorrow,
maybe memories of his departed wife.

“Love slumbers
in one’s body until woken by the presence of beauty,” I barely heard him say,
noticing his eyes moisten, glistening in the midday sun. “For beauty is the
food of love, Ben, the attraction between two people destined to become lovers.
And love is their language.” He
lay
his hand on my
arm. “I saw your love for Tony early on, the same I held for his mother. I
watched your feelings and admiration and desires grow each day, like a vine
reaching towards the sun.”

“Oh? How could
you observe me, let alone know my thoughts, Leo?”

He chuckled and
rocked in quiet humour. “You never saw me observing, did you?” his hand curling
to a grip. “I watched your reflection in my overhead mirror at every stop.”

His words
stunned me. Embarrassment erupted like a volcano, burning my face. He patted my
arm. “No need to be upset, Ben. You made me feel proud then, as you continue to
do to this day.”

“How could I
possibly make you proud?”

“Because you
saw Tony’s beauty,” he said, surprised I asked. “You saw his attractiveness and
the innate exquisiteness of his heart. You saw him as a person, friend and
lover, not as an object or a convenience, as others did. You respected him and
he appreciated your attitude and learned to trust you, as I do. I’m proud he
attracted a person of your astuteness and character.

“Did you tell
him to acknowledge me?”

“No, Ben. I
suggested he should stop building walls, stop isolating himself, to put past
hurtful memories and personal issues aside and look to the horizon and see what
he’s missing.”

“Leo,” I said,
my voice cracking, gripping his hand, “I’m honoured you did and I’m glad he
listened.”

He patted my
hand and rested in his chair, brushing ‘Snowy’, the Maltese Terrier in his lap,
allowing me moments to reflect his message. Music and gaiety between family and
friends always celebrated Leo’s Summer Sunday Lunches. Today, melancholy
pervaded the quiet patio, despair of laughter and friends, just his family and
me. I wondered why.

“Come, my
friend. Let’s see what Apollonia and Antonios are concocting in the kitchen.”

****

“Okay, hit
remote one,” I said from the driver’s seat, slowing for the security gates to
open to the housing estate. A minute later he pressed the others, opening the
driveway gate and garage door while Vicious and Thug, the Alsatians, ran amok around
the Mustang convertible.

He
lead
me to the rear balcony where he turned, cupped my face
and ground his lips to mine. “I guess you want to swim naked, mmmm?” knowing my
answer, removing my ‘Tony’s Coffee House’ work shirt with practiced fingers,
followed by shoes, socks and trousers, pausing as usual at my briefs, his hands
sweeping their contents. “Mmmm, nice bulge and the cutest butt too. Guess you
want them off, mmmm?” knowing I do, dropping to his knees, using his skilled
teeth to lower them.

“Later, cupid,”
I said, clasping his face before his mouth clamped around my released, aroused
appendage.