In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at maringiustinian@laposte.net. Please remember to help Nifty stay online by sending your contribution. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
DAWN (part one out of two)
by Marin Giustinian
In the Greek islands of the Sporades.
Saturday, August 4, 2018
The Delta Air Lines flight DL 202 left JFK New York for Athens, Greece, right on time. Aboard, a party of five was enjoying drinks in first class. They were heading to Greece for a weeklong, private cruise in the Sporades. Anthony Summers, the famous New York plastic surgeon, had invited Anabelle Mason, his present day mistress, Bob Hunt and his wife, his best friends from med-school, and Christopher Summers, Anthony's son, waiting to enter as a Freshman, Columbia University.
Anthony had chartered an outrageously fast, luxurious, and aggressive powerboat located on the fashionable island of Skiathos to go island hopping around the Sporades. Summers enjoyed showing off. He had chosen for himself and his party an Italian yacht, capable of speeding up to fifty knots. Aboard, there were three very comfortable cabins, each with its bathroom, a spacious deck house and galley, all staffed by a crew of three, handling navigation, steward's service, meals, and general upkeep.
During the flight Chris had persuaded his father to let him spend the week exploring on his own. He argued that he would be a drag on the yacht anyway, that he was afraid of being seasick all the time, and that it would be best for everybody that he live his own experience, letting his father and friends live theirs.
The truth was that he disliked the whole setup. He despised everything that the yacht represented : arrogance, wealth, domination, pollution, uselessness, etc. As a lad, he had aways been in conflict with his father and the society he lived in. His non-conformist attitude irritated Anthony to no end. Chris was all the more irritating being a stunningly handsome young man, an excellent student, graduating from a very prestigious boarding school with honors, and admitted with flying colors to attend Columbia U. He looked like a perfect high society teen, and at the same time, was a total misfit in New York's world of the 'nouveau super-riche'.
Anthony's attitude to his son was ambiguous. In fact, Chris was an accident. While Anthony was in med school, he had an affair with a gorgeous party girl, a natural blond, with loads of sex appeal and unfortunately very little class. When she announced that she was pregnant, Anthony's father obliged his son to accept the child as his and assume his responsibility of having neglected the use of a simple condom.
So there he was, supporting a single mother and the father of a very healthy, becoming babe. When the boy was six, his mother dumped the son on his father, leaving with a porn star to Australia. Thus, Anthony was stuck with the boy.
Chris didn't complain. Anthony hired a very affectionate nanny and governess for him. She mothered him much more than his actual mother ever did. Even if Anthony resented having Chris on his hands, he couldn't help spoiling him with toys, gadgets, clothes, expensive schools, day camps and the such. He enjoyed showing him off, but never gave him any real affection, leaving him alone... and often, very lonely.
The child physically took after his mother. He was blond, naturally sexy, and overflowing with charm. However, as he grew into his teens, he became more and more detached. Even if the prettiest girls swooned over him, hoping he would notice, he simply ignored them. He couldn't care less about being popular with his peers. He hated organized sports, locker rooms, proms, and was bored to death when the talk around him dealt only with cars, pussy, or the brand of clothes in vogue.
The others erroneously considered him as being aloof, even conceited for some. His reality was quite the opposite. He wasn't aloof. He was simply disinterested. His sole interest sought higher values: the pursuit of a meaning, a spiritual goal, and a thirst for simple sincerity, none of which was to be found in the terribly superficial society in which he evolved.
It was sad to say that his beauty, like his intelligence were also a handicap that ostracized him, forcing him into seclusion. His unique solace was reading good literature, nature, hiking alone, swimming in the sea, star gazing, or sailing his Topaz dinghy, always by himself.
Sunday, August 5, 2018
The plane landed in Athens at 9:45 AM local time. Anthony's party was sped through customs and cleared the police by 10:30. The yacht charter broker had reserved a helicopter for them leaving the Athens airport going directly to Skiathos where the yacht and its crew awaited them. On the helicopter, Anthony explained to the others that Chris and himself agreed to let him spend the week living his own adventure and would tell everybody how it went when they got back together the following Saturday. Of course the party congratulated him for wanting to fly on his own wings... a real chip off the old block! As they carried on about him being like his dad, Chris wanted to puke.
As the rest of the party boisterously boarded the yacht, Chris was glad to be no part of it.
At last alone with his suitcase, his passport and his credit card, he decided to shop for a rucksack and hiking shoes. Fortunately, during the summer, most shops were open on Sundays. He had no problem finding what he was looking for. He even invested in a lightweight sleeping bag, imagining himself spending the night on a beach somewhere.
This was the very first time he had a whole week of freedom, just for himself! He packed his rucksack, tossed his suitcase in a rubbish bin, put on his hiking shoes and hurried back down to the port. In spite of the heavy sack on his back, he felt light as a lark. He was just in time to board the last ferry to Alonnisos Island.
Alonnisos was the island from where he could hope to find a way to his final destination, Agio Panagia Island. When he learned that he was going to the Sporades, he studied the archipelago and came across the island of Kyra Panagia. What he discovered seemed to be a dream for him. It was the perfect Aegean Island, a small, verdant gem, with its enclosed bays and tree covered hills. Above all, only three monks, living there in their tiny, thousand year old monastery, tilled their garden and herded their goats for their own subsistence. They were the sole inhabitants. This struck Chris as being the answer to his quest, his ideal, his desire. He imagined the island as a blessed space of spiritual meaning, far away from money, success, women, and ambition -- far away from everything his father seemed to worship. He felt that he needed to see it, just to prove it wasn't a dream.
The ferry arrived in Patitiri, the main harbor and town of Alonnisis Island, and, of course, there were no rooms available anywhere. He checked the distance to the other village, Steni Vala. He figured it would take him two hours to walk there, and if there were no rooms, he could sleep on a beach.
He bought a bottle of water and a sandwich and hit the road. The weather was balmy, the sunset sky was lavender velvet, clear and cloudless. His spirits were high as he strode, smiling simply because he was the happiest lad on earth!
As night fell and the moon rose, the seaside road climbed into the fragrant hills and then turned back towards the sea. A passing car stopped, asking if he needed help. The driver spoke just enough English to understand that Chris wanted to sleep on the beach.
The gentleman left him at the beginning of a path leading down to a secluded cove. He said he was near Steni Vala, but it would be safer for him to sleep there... and if he wanted to take a swim, at that beach, clothes were optional!
Chris thanked him, stepped out of the car and made his way down the path, guided by the sound of the wavelets on the pebbled beach. In the milky moonlight he found a small, flat space, between the trees and the beach. That would be his abode for the night.
He unrolled his sleeping bag and sat for a long moment, soaking in the peace of just being himself, admiring the star cluttered sky and the silvery light of a dancing moon on the waters.
He undressed down to his boxers, yawned, stretched, and overtaken by his jet-lag, like a babe, he immediately fell asleep.
Monday, August 6, 2018
Very early the next morning, he slowly awoke, totally rested. With the dawning day, he could at last admire where he was. He sat, awestruck by the beauty of his private little paradise. The sea was flat as a mirror, gleaming under the oblique sun. As he stared, he squinted, noticing something moving, splashing, slowly advancing towards him...
Theo Eliopoulos, 27, lived alone in Steni Vala. He had restored one of the last sailing trehantiri, a traditional Greek fishing boat with a lateen rig. He took people out for day charters. He gave her the name of the god of the winds, Zephyrus.
He always began his day by jogging between six and seven to his favorite little hidden beach a mile away. He ran along the path above the rocky seaside. Once in the cove, he swam nude, jogged back home in time to wash up, eat and prepare Zephyrus for his passengers.
That Monday morning, when he arrived, he stripped without looking around and hit the water. As he was swimming back to the shore, he was astonished to see that he wasn't alone. There stood Chris, bare-chested in his boxers, fascinated by the sight of Theo emerging from the sea like a flesh and blood statue of some ancient Greek god.
Theo was dripping, slightly erect, totally charmed also by the vision of the exquisite, young golden haired lad, elusively smiling down at him.
"Kalimera..." greeted Theo.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I don't speak Greek," replied Chris, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed.
"Never mind, I speak English... Good morning!" he said as he came closer.
Relieved and smiling, Chris answered, holding out his hand, stating in a very preppy way, "Good morning, Sir. My name's Christopher Summers, Chris for short. I'm from New York City."
"Theo Eliopoulos from Volos, living here now -- glad to meet you," he stated, taking the lad's hand.
There was a little shock of energy passing from one to the other as their hands touched.
"Likewise," stuttered Chris, "I hope I'm not intruding on your privacy..."
"Not at all. The beach is for everybody!" replied Theo as he walked over to pick up his towel and dress.
"On holidays?"
"I guess so..." replied Chris rolling up his sleeping bag.
"I suppose you're on a budget since you slept on the beach. I used to do that too, when I was your age... How old are you?"
"Eighteen, Sir."
"Listen, if you need a place to wash up, have a coffee or something, my place is open to you. It's only a short mile from here by the path, but we have to walk fast. I'm on a schedule!"
"With pleasure, Theo." replied Chris as he finished rolling his sleeping back and strapping it onto his rucksack.
As they walked, they told each other a little about themselves. Chris seemed eager to talk. He spilled his bucket to begin with, telling Theo about the trip with his father and Mr. Hunt, the women, the yacht, his hate for all that. Hiking beside him, along the path, Theo listened, wondering if the boy wasn't making it all up. At any rate, he decided to play along, explaining that he was quite different from him.
He said he came from a very ordinary, if not poor family from Volos, on the mainland. He had dropped out of school when he was sixteen, worked and looked for a better job in England. He was hired on a British drilling platform in the North Sea. That was very hard work, but that's how he learned English and made very good money, enough to buy a little house in the village, and restore a traditional boat for day charter.
Theo's street was a staircase. The houses, stacked one on the other, were all whitewashed. Theo's home was located just a bit up from the harbor. The door and street window were painted a flashy red. When Theo opened the door, inviting his new, young guest to enter. Chris beamed. He was speechless as he stepped in.
The room was spotless, bare and oddly beautiful in its evident simplicity. The walls inside were also white. The flagstone floor was polished. A rustic, wooden cupboard, central table with two chairs and a big stone sink by a small fireplace dominated the space.
"The furnishings are things I recuperated and refinished. They are old, handmade pieces I revere. As you can see, there's not much, but it's all I need. The wet space in the corner is for bathing. There's a drain in the floor and to wash, I just fill that tin bucket full of water and with the dipper, I pour it over myself. You are free to use it with me if you want. Also, behind that little door over there is the loo."
"Not only is your place beautiful, but it's a declaration of simplicity... why bother with expensive bathrooms, all closed up and useless objects cluttering the eyes? For me, it's a dream home" exclaimed Chris, smiling at Theo.
"Well, that's how I like it, hiding nothing."
"And where do you sleep and keep your things?"
"Come this way... I've one other room."
Chris followed him. This room was much bigger. There were two large windows opening onto a fabulous view of the harbor, and beyond, the sea. His desk, book shelves and a small wood stove occupied one side wall. A large wooden wardrobe for his clothes occupied the opposite wall. His big double bed was a kind of oriental platform, facing the windows. In a corner a small ladder led to the terrace above.
Going over to the windows, Theo said, "Take a look down there. That's my boat, the black one... with just one wooden mast. That's Zephyrus, my trehantiri."
"Trehantiri?"
"A traditional fishing boat, typical of these waters. Not many left... especially with the ancient riggings like mine. Today, the fishermen prefer plastic, just like the yachtsmen... We'll go see her later if you want. Now let's wash up and go grab some breakfast!"
"Good idea... I feel horribly sticky from the heat and the walk. I haven't washed since New York!"
As they were undressing, Theo explained that there was a terrace on the roof and that down below, he had a little basement for storage, his washing machine, his firewood and other items such as spares for his boat. The low window, opening onto the street, was handy for passing things in and out.
The bucket was brimming with lukewarm water when he joined Chris, waiting nude in the wet corner with soap and a sponge.
"Turn around. We'll swap backs. Want a shampoo?"
Laughing together, they splash-bathed. Their bonds connected in the most natural way imaginable.
"That was great!," exclaimed Chris, as they toweled, "I feel like new!"
"You look new too!"
"I'm glad you like!" teased Chris, wiggling a little as he pulled his bermudas on.
They hurriedly dressed and went down to the tavern for breakfast.
Kastro, the tavern keeper handled the reservations for Theo's excursions. He greeted Chris and handed Theo the list for the outing that day. There were just four people having reserved.
He looked up at Chris and asked, "Would you like to come with me on Zephyrus? There's room."
"How much do you charge?"
"Be my guest!"
"Really? That's so kind of you, Theo, but I can pay my way!"
"What's given is given! Keep your cash!"
They enjoyed their coffee and cakes. When it came time to pay, Chris insisted on picking up the bill. He pulled a bunch of €50 bank notes along with some stray dollars out of his pocket.
Theo stated, "Don't you just have some coins, or a €5 note? Kastro, the guy who runs the tavern, won't have change for a fifty this early in the morning..."
So he was telling the truth! The young fellow was rich as Croesus, thought Theo.
As they climbed aboard, Theo asked, "Do you know anything about sailing?"
"I sail a little dinghy, but it has nothing to do with this kind of rigging."
"Well, you just do what I say and you'll learn. I'm going to make you work your way today!"
"That suits me fine! Thanks again, Theo!"
"Come on sailor, let's get the boat in shipshape. Our passengers will start showing up in less than half an hour."
Kastro gave Theo a full picnic basket and cooler for the group. Theo thanked him and off to Zephyrus they went.
Theo's life, manners, boat, and home were perfectly coherent: no nonsense, clean, elegant and simple. This charmed Chris. It even made him feel, for the first time in his life, envious.
Chris admired Zephyrus. She gleamed. Her varnished woodwork, polished brass chandlery, and brilliant lacquer paint were restored to perfection. The cushions on the passenger benches were discreetly comfortable, and the picnic basket was wonderfully displayed. Theo included in his price, the typical fisherman's sandwich of cheese in a small loaf of bread, bottled water and/or retsina wine in the cooler.
Theo's cruise program consisted in going over to the nearby island, Peristera. A stop was scheduled on the far side of the island, in a small secluded bay, for a leisure swim, a walk or simply sitting in the shade. On Tuesdays, he advertised that the stopover was 'clothes optional'.
As they were loading the boat, Chris stated, "Zephyrus is so elegant... I can't find other words to describe her! Congratulations!"
"Thanks Chris. That means a lot to me," he replied, almost blushing as they suddenly looked into each other's eyes a bit longer.
The weather was perfect and with Chris's help, hoisting the sails would be easy. They had just finished the preparations when the first passengers showed up. There were two couples: one was German, rather plump and happy to go on the ride. The other, a Dutch couple, both around sixty and in very good shape. English was the language aboard.
After presenting the boat and the safety measures, they motored away from the quay. Once they were clear of the other boats, they released the mainsail. Then came the jib, handled by Chris. Theo pointed Zephyrus broadside to the wind. She heeled, and with full sails, they picked up speed. Theo cut off the motor. The hiss of the water flowing along the sides, the rippling of the bow in the wavelets, the gurgle of the wake composed a concert of gentle thrills.
Chris felt totally at home onboard. He slid up beside Theo at the tiller and commented, "You know, since everything is so visible, with nothing hidden, no electronics and the rest, I understand the riggings, the motor controls, the tiller, the rudder... It's easy to understand how she works. She's a REAL boat."
"Our people have been working on the model for over two thousand years now... I definitely do believe that Zephyrus has a soul."
"I do too, Theo, and her soul is like yours, limpid, luminous and..."
"And what?" he laughed, teasing Chris.
"And lovable!" exclaimed Chris.
"All that?"
"Yes, all that!"
Suddenly one of the ladies shouted out, "Men, stay where you are. I want to take a picture of you. You are so beautiful together!"
Theo put his arm around Chris's shoulder and both of them grinned. Then they smiled at each other as the other passengers applauded.
The stopover in the cove was a great success, as well as the picnic. There wasn't a drop of wine left aboard as they headed back to Steni Vala. They tied up and helped the passengers off. As they were stepping ashore, one of them handed Chris a substantial tip. He looked a bit bashful, nearly giggling to himself and simply said, "Thank you".
When everybody was gone, Chris confessed to Theo, "I was always the one tipping! Now I'm on the other side..."
"How does it feel?"
"I love it!"
"You deserved it!"
There was a moment of awkward hesitation as Chris shuffled a bit on his feet and then said, "I guess I'd better go fetch my stuff and look for a room now."
"Come with me, we'll ask Kastro to find you one."
Kastro served them a beer and got on the phone. He came back and said a few words to Theo.
"He says there's not a single room available in town. Everything is booked..."
"Well, I guess I have to go back on the beach then..."
"Unless you'd accept my hospitality and stay in with me. We can eat out tonight and have some fun... "
"I'm buying the wine with my tip!"
"That can be a lot wine!"
"Yes it can!"
"But your day's work isn't finished! We've got a boat to clean!"
That evening, Theo and Chris dined at a small table in the rear of the tavern. They ate fish and the wine did flow. Their conversation became more personal as the evening went on.
"You said you wanted to go to Kyra Panagia... Why? Planning on becoming a monk?" bluntly inquired Theo after hearing Chris's wish to go there.
"Me? A monk? I'm not even Catholic, much less Orthodox. No... I just would like to see what it's like to live off the land, on an island, without a lot of people around, without women and all that..."
"Are you still a virgin?"
"What?"
The question surprised Chris. He almost choked sipping his wine.
"Yes! I'm still a virgin. Is that a crime over here?" curtly quipped Chris, coughing a little.
"No, of course not... just wondering since you mentioned not having women around..."
"I doubt you're a virgin yourself, Theo..."
"You're right. I'm not. I lost that when I was sixteen. Later on I met a girl in Aberdeen when I worked on the oil rig. We moved in together. She turned out to be a slut. It hurt when she said she'd found a better fucker and left me lighter of £600, leaving with all the cash in the kitchen drawer. I think I loved her... but now I'm not sure what love is anymore. Since I'm back home, so to speak, I'm okay by myself and my right hand is a very faithful lover. But that's old stuff now! Let's talk about something else."
"Like what?"
"Tell me what's it like to be the kid of a rich New Yorker, a big city boy in a life of glamor, full of cash? When I was a child, I dreamt of being spoiled like the kids I saw on holidays in the big villas they rented with swimming pools and fancy cars and boats like your father chartered."
"For me, that's all rubbish. For some reason, I've always felt like a misfit, different, unwanted, and totally unimpressed by wealth. I guess it's because I didn't really want to be born the way I was... I know I was an accident and not wanted to begin with. But that's another story... No, Theo, I envy you... and I guess I can understand that you envy me some too," he concluded, taking another sip of wine.
"Not really, Chris. On the oil platform, I made a lot of money. I spent a lot too. I wound up with nothing. Thank God I kept enough to buy my little house and fix up Zephyrus. Now, I've got everything! I've got friends, nature, fun, peace and some meaning in my life."
"How's that?"
"The tourists I take out on Zephyrus usually show up stressed and as we sail, they relax and open up. When they get off the boat, they seemed changed inside. Not everybody, but at least enough to make me happy doing what I do. I don't know why nor how it works, but that's what I feel."
"It's your special presence, Theo. You radiate something special. That's what I noticed when I saw you for the first time, coming out of the water... and today, with the people aboard."
"Today was a bit different... you were with me."
"You made me radiate too. Remember the lady who took our picture?"
"That was fun... More wine?" asked Theo, lifting the pitcher.
"Why not?"
A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at maringiustinian@laposte.net.