This is a work of FICTION. That means it's not real!
As a work of fiction, I have the luxury of not having to worry about safe sex. In the real world though, we don't have that luxury. If you're going to play, PLAY SAFE!
This work contains graphic descriptions, most of a sexual nature, between consenting characters.
For those of you who would like to jump right to those parts, sorry, but there's no sex in this installment.
For those of you who are offended by this type of material, what the hell are you doing here?!?
For those who live in an area where this material is illegal, you have my sympathies and my encouragement to get out there and get them to change the law. In the meantime, if you get caught, I don't know you.
And as always, this work is praise fueled. Please feel free to write and let me know what you think. Flamers, on the other hand, can go fry.
Thanks for your time and attention. Now ENJOY!!!
Angels and Devils
CHAPTER SEVEN
At the age of fourteen, I first met Jean-Claude, and that meeting marked a significant change in the direction of my life. Now, twelve years later, I faced another turning point in my life, and here was Jean-Claude again. Whether you believe in coincidence, destiny, or simply the ironies that life sometimes throws at us, I could not ignore these facts as, the youngster I knew as a boy sat to join me at that Parisian cafe, as a man.
Time had been kind to my old love. When I'd first seen him from a distance, I'd thought he was a little older than the thirty years he was now. Up close, I understood the reason for my error. His once jet black hair was now liberally shot with strands of pure white, especially at the temples.
His face though, up close, was still firm and flush with youthful vigor. Although there were signs of some hard years around his dark, seductive eyes, the eyes themselves still sparkled with life and a little mischief.
We sat there for a moment in awkward silence, assessing each other, noting the changes in each other as well as reacquainting our selves with the familiar features. The shock and surprise of seeing my long-ago friend must have still been showing on my face, because Jean-Claude suddenly burst out in rich, mirthful laughter.
"Ah, my old friend, is it really so hard to believe?" he asked. He chuckled to himself as I quickly regained my composure.
"I'm sorry," I replied, "but you have to admit, after all these years with no word and wild rumors about what happened, can you really blame me for being a bit stunned?" He chuckled again, his smile though, didn't seem to reach his eyes, as he seemed to look back over the span of time that had separated us. In that briefest few seconds of reminiscence, his face darkened momentarily, a frown so quick to appear and fade that I would have missed it had I not been looking right at him, flickered across his face.
That barely perceptible darkening of his mood told me much about what must have happened back then. Something terrible had happened on that day, something that was obviously still painful, something I could see took some force of will for him to push back in his own mind and return to the present.
Having seen all the clues I needed in that briefest change and return of expression, I knew that I had to have the details, needed for him to share this pain with me, as we had so often done for each other in the past. But before I could pursue it, his face brightened again, and he spoke.
"Ah yes, I can only imagine some of the rumors that little incident created. So please, tell me, what were they? Leave out nothing. I have always enjoyed a good laugh over other's gossip."
Despite my desire to find out about the details and repercussions of "that little incident", I had to respect for the moment his apparent desire to let me do the talking. So I briefly relayed the assorted lurid accounts of what the scholastic rumor mill ground out to explain his sudden departure from school. He listened intently, his expression amused as each tale became more scandalous as it went. Finally he could contain himself no longer and burst out laughing.
"Oh my, Daniel! What active imaginations they had at that school. Truly, it is most amusing. Really; the whole soccer team! How absurd and yet fascinating," he said as his humor slowly ebbed, his gaze turning inwards again as if he were remembering something, something that he didn't find so amusing as the wake of conjecture he'd left in his path.
"But seriously, my dear friend, I owe you a huge apology. I was sent away so quickly that I didn't have time to get any sort of word to you. I often thought about writing to you to explain, but I worried that if word got out that we were in contact, it would prove bad for you," he explained. "And after a while, I must confess, I was far to...involved elsewhere...to even think about it."
His sudden change in tone told me a lot. The expression on his face more so as that inward-gazing look deepened and his face fell just a bit as his mind turned over and relived some apparently dark memory.
"I understand Jean-Claude. And in a way, it is probably better that you didn't write. It would have been risky, and I know that we always watched out for each other, so it wasn't really an option for either of us. But tell me, now that that is all behind us; what did happen that day?"
He looked at me, and for a moment I thought he would share with me what the thing was that had so quickly deflated his at first exuberant mood. Then I saw him almost physically push away whatever it was that had been worrying his mind. Just like that he deflected my question and returned his attention to me in the here-and-now.
"Phah!" he exclaimed. "There is plenty of time for that later. First though, you must tell me what has brought you to Paris. Can it be that you have managed to break from your own gilded cage as you had so longed to do?"
Most any other time, I probably would have pressed my question, since there was something that he was obviously not sharing with me. This was not something that Jean-Claude had ever done with me. But obviously much had happened over the past twelve years that, for now, I was not to be privy to, so I began to answer his question.
As I started to share those years with him, I realized that part of the reason I hadn't pressed my own question on him was that, deep down, I needed to share these things with my friend. It was difficult at first, but as I continued, it was as if that the intervening years seemed to melt away.
No matter what had gone on between now and then, one thing had remained consistent with Jean-Claude. He was still an avid and attentive listener. At fourteen, confused and scared as I was at many times and for many reasons, that simple gift of listening had been a great source of solace and comfort for me.
Now, at twenty-six, I realized that, as much if not more than then, that comfort was what I needed. In the back of my mind was the realization that for far too long, I had had no one to confide in, no one to share my thoughts, feelings, pains and fears with. And now, at one of the lowest points in my life, that simple act of sharing could prove to be my salvation.
So I talked; and as I talked, I began to feel something I'd not felt for longer than I could remember. The crushing weight of not just my recent revelations, but seemingly of my whole life, began to recede from my mind and soul. The more I told Jean-Claude, the lighter I seemed to become, as if each thought, word and emotion were a huge stone being dropped from an overburdened pack.
By the time I finished, I felt drained, empty and yet strangely peaceful, as if by sharing my experiences I had performed some sort of exorcism, banishing for a time the demons that had been tormenting my soul for these past few months. Since coming to Paris, and up until now, had been time spent flushing my body of the effects of my prolonged chemical abuse. Now, I suppose, I'd begun the spiritual cleansing that I'd neglected for all these weeks.
CHAPTER EIGHT
We sat there at our cafe table in silence for several moments. I didn't know how long I'd been talking, but I noticed that the shadows that had cooled our street side table had shortened and withdrawn until we were fully bathed in the spring sunshine. I studied Jean-Claude's face, trying to read his mood.
He was obviously deep in thought, but what those thoughts might be his eyes would not betray. While I had talked, I had studied his reactions. Most of the time he had been quietly attentive, occasionally registering increased, intense interest at a particular point in my story, or shock, or empathy, sometimes something completely unreadable to me.
Now however, he was as closed to me as a locked vault. It was as if he were weighing all that I had said and was trying to come to some sort of decision. Even when he looked up at me, this unreadable expression held for a brief second just before a compassionate smile spread across his face and he spoke.
"Ah Daniel, you have had some time of it, no?" His smile broadened, and that odd, contemplative look flickered ever so briefly across his face again. "Yes, all of this is quite interesting. I think that perhaps it is very good that we have this opportunity at this time." His smile faded somewhat then, and he leaned forward, placing his hand on top of my own and squeezed it briefly.
"I am sorry to hear about your parents. I know that there was no love lost between you and them, but you have my sympathies all the same. I know what it is like to lose one's family, no matter how estranged one my be from them." Jean- Claude glanced away for the briefest second, and I sensed that he wasn't just talking about me and the relationship I'd had with my family. Not for the first time, I wondered just what had occurred between him and his father.
I remembered the one time I had actually met my old lover's father. He had struck me as a very stern, unyielding man, and I had feared for Jean-Claude those many years ago when he had suddenly been sent home. Now I had to take this opportunity to find out just how bad it had been for him then.
"Thank you for that, Jean-Claude," I replied. "Yes, I think that's one of the things that made what you and I had so special; our dealings with our families. I suppose I was lucky in that my father never found out about me. I was so worried about what might have happened with you, since I could only guess that yours found you out."
Once again, that dark, impenetrable curtain of contemplation darkened his features. His mouth opened as if preparing to speak, and I sat there expectantly, waiting for him unburden himself to me as I had unburdened myself to him. But nothing came out. He closed his mouth and seemed to physically shake off whatever this secret thing was. My concern deepened, feeling that perhaps whatever it was that was remaining unsaid was something perhaps neither of us could bear.
"Daniel, there is so much to tell, and so much that is difficult to tell on my part. Yes, my father found out things about me, and later, I about him. It seems sometimes that, as you Americans say, the apple does not fall far from the tree." His brow furrowed, and once again I got the impression of someone much older than his years sitting before me.
"My God!" he exclaimed, looking suddenly at his watch. "Ah, my friend, I had no idea of the time. I have many things that I must attend to this afternoon. I am so sorry, I know that you have many things you must be wishing to ask me, but I simply do not have the time." The he quickly stood and began digging into his pockets to pay for the coffee and croissants we'd consumed during our talk.
I could tell that his urgency to leave was genuine, though I suspected there was something more to the reason than having some errands to run. It just struck me as a little to convenient that he would suddenly remember some urgent errands at just the point that the conversation would be turning towards him. But what could I do? I knew that if I tried to press the point, he would only withdraw deeper from whatever he was holding back. I'd learned that about him long ago; he had to share something at his own pace and in his own way.
Standing up myself, I grabbed him gently by the shoulder. "Don't worry about the bill, Jean-Claude. I'll take care of it. It's not like breakfast will break me," I told him with a smile.
"Ah, my dear friend. I feel to terrible to abandon you like this when there is so much for us to catch up on. Tell me, do you have any plans for tomorrow." I answered with a shake of my head. "Wonderful then! You will come out to my home and we shall have the whole day to relive the past with, and perhaps even discuss the future. For now though, I really must run." Quickly he took me in his arms in a warm embrace. "Truly it is wonderful to see you again. There is so much we have to talk about. Until tomorrow, take good care of yourself." And with that he turned and started to walk away.
A thought suddenly occurred to me through the confusion of his rushed departure. "Jean-Claude!" I shouted after him, "how do I get out to your place? I don't even have your phone number!"
Still walking forward, he shouted back, "do not worry my friend, I will send a way." And with a quick wave and his old familiar mischievous grin, he hurried to disappear into the crowded streets of Paris.
CHAPTER NINE
When I lost track of him in the hustle and bustle of the early afternoon crowd. I sat back down at the table. I must have sat there for a good while, just staring ahead of me without really seeing anything. I snapped out of it when I heard the waiter at my shoulder asking if there was anything more that I wanted. Looking at my watch, I saw that it was past the lunch hour, and for the first time noticed that the cafe was practically empty. No doubt the waiter was more concerned that I pay my bill and leave so they could prepare for the dinner rush. So I paid check and left a generous tip since we'd occupied that table for a considerable amount of time.
Walking to the sidewalk, I stretched and realized that I was quite stiff from being seated for so long. Breathing in the spring air, I thought it would be a good idea to stretch my legs a bit with a walk in a nearby park. It would also be a good opportunity to think over some of Jean-Claude's more mysterious comments.
Once I entered the park, I began walking along the path, my head down somewhat, my eyes automatically keeping my feet on the trail as I let my mind turn over the exchange with Jean-Claude.
Foremost on my mind was the wonder at how he could possibly get ahold of me to let me know how to get to his home. I'd only been in my new residence for about a month and had had only limited contact with anyone in the neighborhood. In a city this size, how could he possibly know how to reach me. Hell; I didn't even have a phone.
With no answers forthcoming on that subject, I set it aside and let my mind wander to some of the more elusive statements he'd made. He'd confirmed that yes, indeed, his father had found out about his homosexuality, but had been oddly elusive on the consequences of the discovery.
We both knew that he had promised to totally disown Jean-Claude if he did not marry and produce heirs, and being gay would certainly taint any possibility of that. So what had been the outcome of that? Was he underground; playing straight, perhaps even married, while pursuing his true desires elsewhere. Certainly that was not outside the realm of possibility. But I couldn't recall seeing a wedding band on his finger, so that was another point that I couldn't learn any more from based on what I'd observed.
Another point was what he'd said about his father. That "my father found out things about me, and later, I about him", comment, and about the apple not falling far from the tree. His voice and expression gave me no doubt that there was a dark tale behind those clues indeed. But what could it be?
Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, I remembered something from those days that Jean-Claude and I had shared. Normally, the memory would have been a pleasant recollection of one of the many experiences he and I'd had. But overlaid on my musings over my conversation with him, it gave me clues to just what had happened to cause Jean-Claude to leave suddenly.
My walk slowed, then stopped all together as I mixed memory with Jean-Claude's scant clues, like trying to fit the pieces of a puzzle together. Some of them fit rather neatly, and if my guesses were correct, then there were indeed some dark and troubling events behind Jean-Claude's disappearance twelve years ago and whatever had occurred afterward.
I hoped with all my heart that Jean-Claude would manage to contact me.
CHAPTER TEN
I spent the rest of the day wandering the city and doing some shopping. When I returned to my apartment, I put my purchases away and opened a bottle of wine. Though I'd sworn off the drugs and various other excesses which I'd been indulging in for the past two years, I still drank, though in much greater moderation than I'd used before.
Taking my glass, I walked out to the balcony and looked out over the city. Though my apartment was not in a terribly tall building, it still provided me with an impressive view of the city. I could see lights going on all around me as the sun dipped below the horizon. I sat and watched as this old, beautiful city was transformed into a glittering jewel box, sparkling off into the distance.
I was deep in my own thoughts, musing about the day and my life, when I was startled back into the here-and-now by a soft tapping at my door. I stood and walked back inside, curious as to whom it could possibly be. When I reached the door, I noticed a slip of paper on the floor. Absently, I stooped and picked it up, and opened the door. No one was there, not even down either end of the hallway as I leaned out and looked down both ends.
Stepping back inside, I unfolded the paper and read.
"My dear Daniel, It was truly wonderful to visit with you earlier today. As promised, I am sending you the way to my home for your visit tomorrow. Be at this location at 9:00 this evening, give your name at the door, and you will receive further instructions. While you are there, I do hope that you will avail yourself of the opportunities offered to you. It is truly a most unique and special place. With love, Jean-Claude"
Below this brief note were detailed directions and a small map. Reading the note again, I had to chuckle to myself. This was indeed the Jean-Claude I remembered from my youth.
He had always had this flair for the dramatic, an interest in intrigue. Many were the times we'd engaged in some sort of role-playing, especially in our sexual encounters. Some of those scenes I recalled fondly, feeling a slight stir of arousal at the recollection. And here it was, twelve years later, and he hadn't changed a bit in that respect. He was taking our chance meeting and turning it into a game, a pursuit, with...what?...at the end.
With a chuckle, I put aside my darker thoughts from earlier that day and began to prepare for a night out on an unknown adventure.
To be continued---