An account of my life through my writing, the arts, men and media. All things homoerotic.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Chapter Ten I spent the next few days busying myself with furniture arrivals and decorating. I tried not to think of Miles and his horrible situation. Every time a thought of him entered my mind, it felt like a knife stabbing my insides. How do you describe a pain so deep that it feels like it threatens your very existence. I would brush it aside and refocus on the task at hand. Mrs. Sellers began interviewing for a handyman and housekeeper, eventually settling upon a couple from the village. They took up residence in one of the maid's quarters and Mrs. Sellars moved into Miles' old bedroom.
Mrs. Sellers offered to clean out his belongings and clothes, but I said I would rather do it myself. I brought an old trunk from the attic, filling it with his clothes. As I pulled his few shirts from the closet, I held them up to my face, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of his odor. It made my knees weak as I fell on my knees and sobbed; for the first time allowing myself to grieve the great loss of his love and his place in my life. I placed the tear soaked shirts in the trunk and began emptying his bureau of his underwear and stockings. In the top drawer I found the cufflinks and accessories we had purchased in London. Next to his bow tie was a dried rose that I had purchased for him as a boutonniere the night we went out. I placed them all into a drawer in the trunk. A quiet resolve fell over me and a sadness I had never known. Finishing up, I placed his dinner jacket and pants in a bag, carefully laying them in the trunk. The sound of the clasp and locks on the trunk echoed in the room and down the hall.
That summer invitations began to pour in from my neighbors inviting me to summer fetes, no doubt desiring to parade their most eligible daughters before the male stock of the county. I accepted a few and graciously declined others. Life at Fair Oaks moved on and as the trees filled with the summer breezes they constantly reminded me of the life I was missing.
I resolved to travel abroad, booking passage on a ship bound for the Mediterranean. The first stop was in Spain near Gibraltar where I climbed as high as I could under the watchful eye of the Barbary Apes or Macaques. From my vantage point I could see the Mediterranean, the Atlantic. the Pillars of Hercules and the north shore of Africa. It was a spectacular view and I imagined those first Phoenician sailors setting sail into the unknown waters of the Atlantic, fearing for encounters with sea monsters and possibly falling off the edge of the earth. That was how my life felt. Alone again, I must sail into uncharted waters and find a new life without Miles or fall off the face of the earth. Tears fell down my cheeks and the hot dry wind dried them almost immediately.
The next day our boat left for Barcelona. We docked in the afternoon two days later and because I had fallen ill was unable to go ashore until the following day. Seasickness or something I ate kept me in the head most of the evening. When I did go ashore, I found the city enchanting. This was my first foray in southern climes and I was enjoying the warmth and hospitality of the gracious inhabitants of Catalonia. There seemed to be many men standing in the streets holding my gaze and smiling as I walked through the warm sun drenched streets and alleyways. I was not ready for any casual encounters and was still feeling the aftereffects of the previous night. I would smile back and nod as I made my way back to the ship.
I met many people on the boat, most of them seemed anxious for me to meet their niece or daughter or granddaughter back in England. I remained charmingly aloof as I nodded and agreed that it would of course be wonderful to meet them once we returned home. It appeared I was one of the few singles on board apart from widows and spinsters. Inside I began to reconsider my old option of settling into a loveless marriage with a woman. Or perhaps I could fall in love again.
The boat took us to the French Riviera and the Cinque Terra on the Italian Riviera. I had acquired a golden bronze tan and my hair had bleached many shades lighter from swimming in the sea and lying about on board the ship. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I began to see myself as others might, my vanity filling me with a pleasant sensation.
Throughout the voyage, one young steward kept catching my eye. I would pass him in the halls or at dinner. He always smiled brightly and would address me. I dressed each night for dinner in my formal dinner wear, each time remembering the night Miles and dressed for dinner. One night after dinner while we were docked in the Bay of Naples, I ventured out onto the deck of the ship to look at the lights of the city reflected on the bay. I had had a few glasses of champagne with dinner and was nursing a scotch and water while I drank in the view, smelling the aromas and hearing the sounds of the cafes that lined the waterfront as they crossed the water to our boat.
“You seem a bit sad, sir.” A gentle voice behind me remarked. I turned to see the young steward standing behind me with another drink on a tray. “I took the liberty of getting you another. I hope you don't mind.”
“Not at all.” I finished my drink, setting the empty glass on the tray and took the fresh one.
“Please don't think me too forward or cheeky, sir, but I couldn't help noticing how you keep to yourself and seemed a bit sad.”
“Someone else once thought that about me and we were standing on the deck of a ship then too. I guess I've come full circle.”
We both stood looking at the city and the lights.
“Beautiful city, Naples, but watch yourself and mind your pocket.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, they prey on tourists.”
I turned back to him and I stared into his eyes which were a brilliant blue. He had long blond eyelashes and strawberry blond hair. A fresh cheeked young man with a soft slightly effeminate quality about him. I had an overwhelming desire to kiss him on his full lips. I took a sip of my drink instead.
“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, silence the pianos and with muffled drum bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.”
“Did someone die, sir.”
“Oh please, let us dispense with the formalities. No one died, but someone is dead to me and you are alive and standing here before me.” I was just drunk enough. I took my free hand and held the back of his neck as I brought him forward and kissed him softly on the lips.
His lips were soft and he had a light down on his upper lip.
“What's your name?”
“No more sirs.”
“Hard habit to break.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, Jeremy, thou art truly beautiful.”
“Thank you and I think you're quite nice too.”
“Thank you, Jeremy. I feel quite nice right now.”
“I have a few days off when we dock in Greece. If you like I could show you around. It's my favorite place in the Mediterranean and I always arrange my days off when we're there.”
“That would be lovely and I'm sure it will soon be my favorite too. My name is Stephen, by the way, Stephen Reid.”
While still holding the tray with the empty glass he held out his right hand, “Nice to meet you.” I took his hand in mine.
“I think we've passed this sort of formality.” He shook my hand and then leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. His tongue darting out between his lips searching for mine.
“See you in a few days, Stephen Reid.” He turned and walked back into the interior of ship.
Every day I would look for him and some days I found him, always trying to convince him to meet me in my cabin after hours. There was an innocence and worldliness about him that I found intoxicating. He was adamant about not sleeping with me until we got to Greece. The ship had very stringent rules about fraternizing with the passengers and he was not about to jeopardize his job for me. I would just have to wait until we got to Mykonos.
Finally the day arrived when we pulled into the beautiful harbour on a lovely September morning. The air was hot and dry and smelled of the beautiful Aegean. Passengers scrambled to get off the boat and down the ramp to the wharf. One elderly couple was insistent that I meet them for drinks and dinner that night. I had to graciously untangle myself, lying to them telling them I was meeting old friends who were staying on the island. Jeremy had given me strict instructions where to meet him. There was ancient marble pillar on the stone wharf just on the other side of the harbour. He would be waiting for me.
When I arrived he was holding two bicycles.
“Come on. We haven't got all day,” he said as he rode off towards the town.
He took me to the windmills that look out over the sea, eventually ending up on the other side of the island where we hired a boat to take us to a secluded beach. The owner of the boat, frowned at us as we jumped off the boat into the waves and waded to shore.
“How will we get back?” I yelled as Jeremy ran up the beach and started taking off his clothes.
“We have two days and it's not that far to walk.”
He was naked by the time I got to him and he ran passed me to the water, diving into the clear blue water of the Aegean. I noticed that his ass was quite tan, so I surmised that this was not the first time his derriere had seen the sun. I removed my clothes as quickly as possible and followed him into the water. It was warm and soothing. Caressing every part of my body.
“Who was it that broke your heart?” We were lying on our stomachs on the small pebbles that formed the beach. “Was it a man or a woman?”
“A man. And a woman.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“He left me for a woman. A woman he got pregnant.”
“So, you loved him a lot, this bloke?”
He reached over and put his arm around my shoulder and brought his lips to mine. “Let me help you forget him.”
Jeremy was very experienced for all his supposed innocence. In the ways of love, he was an expert. He fucked me hard on the beach, my back grinding into the tiny rocks. He had an amazing stamina and I had to hold him back at times from hurting me. We found a smooth rock and he rode my cock while his erect penis bounced up and down , grinding himself onto my hard prick. He stroked himself as I cried out, coming profusely in his ass. Immediately he shot his seed onto the beach below.
We ran into the surf and cleaned ourselves, kissing and fondling one another. There was a childlike carefree abandon that we had together that I had never experienced with Miles. He truly helped me forget for a time.
“There's a taverna on the beach just on the other side of this point. I don't know about you, but I'm famished.”
“I'm starving,” I said. “Fucking you has made me hungrier than a horse.”
“Yeah, well fucking you has made me so hungry I could eat the horse and chase the rider.”
We ran down the beach laughing until we reached the Taverna. We ordered fresh deep fried calamari and moussaka, washing it down with retsina, which tasting awful until it was paired with the oily moussaka. We finished off with several glasses of ouzo. We inquired as to the nearest hotel and the owners, a middle-aged man and woman, said they had a small room over their house that they rented out. Their English was horrible and it took us several minutes before we finally figured out what they were offering. We settled on a cheap price for the night and paid them along with our bill for dinner. We were both quite drunk by this time, but we purchased another bottle of ouzo, heading down to the water's edge. The waves were larger than earlier and were breaking very close to the shore and in very quick succession. We sat on the shore saying nothing as we passed the bottle back and forth, listening to the sound of the surf.
“Fuck me, Stephen, but I've had a damn good time today. You are an amazing fuck, I might say.” He spoke with comic formality, mimicking Stan Laurel of Laurel and Hardy. I tried to copy him.
“Jeremy, you are quite a good fuck yourself, I might add and you have an amazing ass.”
“I love yer dick, Mr Reid. It's quite lovely when it's fully erect, you know.”
“As is yours, Jeremy.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Reid. Fancy another skinny dip and go around?” he asked as he passed the bottle back to me.
“I'd love to Jeremy.”
I took another swig and stood. weaving back and forth as I removed my clothes. We both stripped naked and ran into the water, hitting the waves that knocked us both down. They were unrelenting and we found it impossible to stand on our feet as we laughed hysterically. Every time we tried to stand another wave would hit us, knocking us onto the small pebbles of beach. Finally we rolled onto the shore sobbing with laughter.
“Well, that wasn't a very good idea, was it?” Jeremy cried out as he rolled onto his back on the shore away from the water. I was laughing uncontrollably, finally catching my breath.
“Here's another fine mess you've gotten us into, Jeremy.”
As a full moon shone like a spotlight on us, illuminating everything, we rolled on the beach laughing until we finally ended up in each others arms. Jeremy fucked me with the waves caressing our feet. I was beyond being able to keep an erection and finally after what felt like an eternity of fucking, he came inside me. He rolled off of me, both of us gasping for air.
“Where do you get it?”
“Young and horny I suppose.”
We made our back to the taverna, climbing the stairs to our room. We were quiet as church mice and I couldn't help but be reminded of my time with Miles. It seemed I would be haunted til the end of my days.
In the morning we slept until just before noon and had breakfast at the taverna. We thanked our hosts for their hospitality, making our way back to the village, passing small farms with donkeys and goats in the barren fields. Eventually we found our bikes, riding through the narrow streets on our way back to the ship.
Jeremy was cordial, but formal for the remainder of the voyage. I surmised this was not his first shipboard romance and I was just another notch on his belt.
We arrived in England and the staff of the boat was lined up as we passed by to walk down the gangway. I slipped several pounds and a slip of paper with my name, address and phone number into his palm as we shook hands.
“Thank you for making it a lovely voyage and if you're ever in the Midlands, please feel free to call.”
He blushed and the young steward standing next to him chuckled.
“Thank you, sir.”
"An artist has always gotta be in the state of becoming"... Bob Dylan...
"If you advance confidently in the direction of your own dreams and endeavor to live the life which you have imagined, you will meet with a success unexpected in common hours." Henry David Thoreau. All material herein is written and copyrighted by me, unless otherwise noted. Please leave your comments. I love to hear from you. You can email me at: firstname.lastname@example.org
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