Made in Heaven - 4. Not sure I understand

Philipp tried to stow away all of his books and videos and CD's in the travelling bag he had brought. He regretted that the single room he now lived in at the hotel he was working at hadn't enough room. He would have to leave them in the bag.

He rose and looked around. Odd, he thought. Four years wouldn't leave any trace of his presence in this apartment. If he thought it over, he had never felt comfortable since they had moved here. The flat was too sterile. Much too Christian's own. Nothing from Philipp had flown in here. Philipp would rather have lived in Tim's surroundings, or Martin's. Not to be near them, but rather to be close to clubs or to relax in a natural surrounding. He wished he could have both.

He sat upon the red sofa and took a writing pad. He didn't know exactly what to write, but felt he had to leave something for Christian. He couldn't go without a word. Finally he wrote -

Christian,

What a pity. The time with you was great, but you have destroyed it. I know you were watching me to find signs of my unfaithfulness. I haven't said anything. I know it wasn't true. I bore your jealousy but now I can't do it any longer. It was you who drove me into the arms of others. Now you can be happy for your wish is fulfilled. I feel sorry for the next man you try to possess.

Philipp

Carefully he read what he had written. It was not enough to express his feelings. It was impossible anyway to explain in a few sentences what his relationship with Christian was all about. Christian had much to give but the price for all this had become too high. Slowly, with the passing of time, Christian had changed from a charming, attentive lover to a possessive husband.

Philipp put his chin into his palm, felt the golden ring around his middle finger and remembered the evening Christian had set up a table next to the swimming pool on the roof terrace. It was one of the last sunny days in October last year. The area was decorated with lamps and candles and upon Philipp's plate was a black velvet box. The light broke in the Champaign glasses. Philipp had felt awkward because he couldn't think what Christian had in mind. Completely at a loss, he stared then at the small platinum ring in the open box and listened to Christian's marriage proposal. Philipp's feelings somersaulted. First he felt flattered, then joy, replaced by fear. He knew Christian didn't want to marry to demonstrate to the world that gay love is of equal rank to straight love. Christian wanted to show that he was able to hold a man. To hold him for a lifetime to prove that love was everlasting and immortal. And there was nothing wrong with it.

But Philipp had the feeling that Christian's real reason was to put Philipp into his golden cage. He thought that a piece of paper and a platinum ring would give him the right to do with Philipp whatever he wanted. He was his possession with body and hair; Christian wasn't able to lead an equal partnership. The possibility that Christian wanted to marry just because he loved him - plain and simple - Philipp didn't consider. The urge for domination couldn't be love. At least not in Philipp's understanding. He had awakened very late. That Christian wanted him to stop his studies should have been warning enough.

He remembered Christian's insulted and disappointed face after he closed the box, with the ring still inside, and explained he was much too young to get married. He had stretched out his hand with the golden band both had been wearing for a long time as proof that Philipp and Christian belonged together. Why wasn't this enough? Christian had taken it as lack of love and affection and punished Philipp with withdrawal of love for many weeks. Since then, no day had passed without Christian's renewal of his proposal.

Philipp didn't understand why Christian was so crazy for him. He was just an average guy, nice to look at, surely, but no head turner. In the end, Philipp had fled. In all the four years he had never flirted with anyone else because he was too devoted. The affair with Christian's twin was nothing more than a demonstration for inner freedom, and exclusively meant for himself. It could have been anybody. But at least Martin's body and face had a soothing familiarity. Only their characters were contrary. Martin didn't demand anything. Where Christian had too much feelings, Martin had too little. He never forced a decision, nor ever told Philipp that he liked him, nor asked when he would come back.

Philipp sighed loudly and ruffled his red hair. And now he had stumbled over Tim.

His look touched the leather books framing the fire side. All of Christian's beloved poets. He leaned back and remembered the nights when he had read poems from Wordsworth and Keats. Philipp had never been a big fan of poems, but Christian had a talent for reading; slowly, with breaks at the right places and he conveyed the feeling that they were just for Philipp only.

He smiled, melancholy. These times were over. Christian had changed into a hysteric being although Philipp had never given any reasons for Christian's suspicions.

He rose and indiscriminately grabbed a book. It opened were a tag was between the paper sheets.

"Love is not love

which alters when it alteration finds,

or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! It is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark...."

Shakespeare's love declaration to another man. But the star was dead.

He put the book back. He didn't know what to do. Martin? Tim? It was certainly better to remain alone. At least for some time. Looking back, to be with Christian wasn't wasted time. He had taken too much his profit from Christian's lifestyle and his knowledge. And Martin wasn't a substitute. He lacked the tenderness Philipp was used to. He was too much a cerebral person.

Tim? He smiled. Tim was lovely once he had overcome his shyness. But a serious partner?

Philipp had the certain feeling that he wanted to be alone. He couldn't just walk from one relationship to another. One night with Tim didn't give him the right to be demanding. But Tim seems to be free. He had a father who protected and supported him while Philipp was a coward and never gave his parents the chance to do the same for him. On the other hand, he didn't want to hurt Tim.

He sighed again. He would have to talk with him when he went to return the clothes, for instance. Tim's sweatshirt was torn so he had to buy another and to invent an excuse for the new sweatshirt. No way he would tell anybody that his partner had threatened to rape him. Not even that he had hit him.

Slowly he went from one room to the other in search of forgotten things. He saw photos showing a happy pair - he and Christian. For a moment he stared at them. Christian had never told him about his predecessors. He was always evasive and Philipp wondered if they were gone for the same reason Philipp was now leaving. The ring Philipp didn't want was still in its box in the glass cabinet. His cuddly toy - a white lion - lay forgotten on the bed. Philipp took it and pressed it to his chest before he put it into the bag.

He hesitated and thought, what to do now. The work at the hotel wasn't exactly satisfactory. Philipp knew them all: Foreigners on business trips who wanted to let their hair down. The xxx-room with the bath inside the living room and the funny equipment was always booked.

He recognized them at the first view: the good husbands and family fathers having fun with a hustler or with a call boy whose advertisements they had found in the newspapers.

The hotel had regulars and discretion was served 100 percent. But he was tired of all this. Rather he would take up his studies again, now that Christian wasn't there anymore to forbid him everything. How could he have lived this way for so long?

He straightened his shoulders, put the keys and card upon the letter on the table and pulled the golden ring from his finger. He turned it around several times before he put it carefully next to the other things. Then he took the heavy bag. He turned again and embraced the apartment with his look. He hadn't been happy here. Neither of them had been. But how much this step hurt, Philipp had to go on and find himself.

* * * * * *

Maxim watched Tim and Philipp relaxing in the corner of the book shop, drinking coffee from paper cups and chatting animatedly. He would have given a lot to be a mouse so he could listen.

Maxim still couldn't comprehend the amazing speed with which Philipp and Christian had ended their four years long partnership. He had to admit that Philipp was a completely different type, compared with himself - red hair aside. Tim was laughing now and again and seemed to enjoy Philipp's company. He clutched a bag on his lap which Philipp had given him earlier.

"Maxim?" Nadine was talking to him when he turned. Beside her was a broad-grinning guy with a similarity to himself.

"This is Thomas."

Maxim took Thomas' outstretched hand and said hi to him, his eyes still questioning.

"I want to show him around." Nadine said. Maxim nodded, stunned before he called to her back, "Nadine? Do you have a minute?"

He briefly filled her in on Christian's invitation to Paris. "Would it be okay to have four days off? Can you arrange something?"

Nadine looked surprised. "To Paris? Do you think it's wise? How long have you known him - since the weekend?"

Maxim looked at Tom's dark shock of hair, moving self-confidently through the room and looked amused at the calendars. "How long do you know him?" he asked.

"Since the weekend", Nadine said dryly and chortled then. "Imagine, there were straights at the CSD!"

Maxim wrinkled his brows. "I guess we were THE attraction for him."

"Hey!" Nadine thumped him. "Be nice. When I told him where I work he was curious to see it."

"Don't tell me he didn't know this place exist." Straights!, Maxim thought. He wondered if Tom really was just curious to dive into the world from the other shore. "Are you sure he's straight?"

"Absolutely." Nadine's sparkling eyes told him that she had tested him already. "He's working at the dubbing-studios and knows a lot of actors personally."

"Aha." Maxim saw Thomas searching the rooms, looking at book covers. Nadine seemed disappointed that her friend didn't seem to share her enthusiasm. "You behave as if you're jealous. Well, if you have to go to Paris with a stranger - from my side it's okay. Just be careful."

"Geez, Nadine. I've known Christian for a year!"

"So? And why do I know nothing of it? Why haven't you told me?"

"Well, he was with another." Maxim's eyes wandered to Philipp and Tim.

Nadine stepped a little closer and said low, "You do know that Timmy is in love with you."

Maxim was silent. Could he help it?

Then his heart skipped a beat. Christian entered the bookshop. He stood a moment and smiled when he found Maxim. "Shit, there he is," Maxim whispered.

"Your Paris trip?" Nadine whispered back. Maxim nodded and went to him.

Nadine had a bad feeling in her guts. Her blind thrust concerning Tim had fallen flat. She wasn't sure anyway, but she just had to look into Tim's eyes when he was speaking to Maxim to know it. Bloody men! she thought. They never see the obvious thing. She turned to look for Thomas.

"I hope you haven't changed your mind," Christian said, then interrupted himself. His eyes focused on the couch, next to little angel. Boiling water swept into his stomach when he remembered Philipp's words that he felt pity for the next man Christian wanted to possess. Had he really felt this way all the time? Christian bit his lips. He could prove that he was able to make Maxim happy. This time it should last.

"No, I haven't changed my mind," he heard him saying.

"Great. Here's your ticket. What are you doing this evening?"

Maxim stared at the ticket in his hand. "Well, I'll go to the Bar jeder Vernunft, I have premiere-tickets."

"Oh." Christian tilted his head. "Alone?"

"I promised to take Tim with me."

"Tim." Christian's eyes flickered over the room until he found him standing now in the merchandise corner with Philipp. As if pulled on a string, Philipp turned his head and their eyes met. Philipp frowned and held his gaze, until Christian looked away. He saw Tim's graceful movements and his face imperceptibly became stony. Tim was fragile, a long legged elf. Surely Maxim was keen on him. Christian's diamond eyes became piercing splinters of ice. Short enough, that Maxim didn't notice.

Christian smiled now. "Well then, enjoy the evening. I'll pick you up Saturday, 8:30 a.m., okay?" He leaned over, slowly, and his eyes consumed Maxim's before he closed them and Maxim enjoyed the feeling of Christian's lips on his own. When he walked to the exit, four pair of eyes followed him before they rested upon Maxim again. Philipp's a mixture of regret and pity, Tim's with scorn, Nadine's simply curious. And Maxim's full of hunger.

The last da capo was Zarah Leander's "Kann denn Liebe Sünde sein?" [3)] and the audience was cheering now and again at the ambiguous passages. It was this song the gay community had chosen to be one of their hymns, although this statement was omnipotent and universally valid.

Joost's false lashes were sprinkled with silver dust and his full lips were blood red. Maxim found he walked as self-confident and naturally as if he was born on high heels, dragging the long, tight fitting dress behind him, lifting the train and threw it gracefully over one arm. He flirted with the audience like hell as he left the stage now and walked slowly through the mixed audience, his gloved fingers caressed there the chin of a man, and here stroked the naked shoulder of a woman. The people were his prey - completely. Boldly he threw his head back and the long chestnut hair flooded over his very low-cut back before he approached the table where Tim and Maxim sat, the champagne bottle - a present of the house - already empty. Tim devoured Zarah with his eyes, scalding cheeks, and enthusiasm sparkled in his eyes. Joost saw it. He squatted down beside Tim's chair and sang liltingly and exclusively for him about love and kissing and happiness.

Tim beamed and Maxim heard cameras clicking; the journalists were many this night. Zarah breathed a kiss on Tim's cheek before he returned to the stage to his black leather chair, the piano, played by Rainer, and the white roses strewn all over the wooden ground. A single spotlight followed him. Maxim adored not only him but also Rainer's piano playing. This could be a job for him...

Zarah was showered with standing ovations and with roses in all colours. Tim, meanwhile, was standing like everybody and clapping. But then he saw him: sitting at a lonely table, not looking toward the stage, but focussed on Maxim's head and back. Christian. There was no mistake.

Tim tore open his eyes when he received a hard and imploring gaze and almost stumbled over his chair. Briefly Maxim's back hid Christian's table; when he could look again, Christian's place was empty. Tim wondered if he had seen right, but Christian's eyes and his ability to stare was unrivalled. Wasn't there threat within? And fear? It seemed as if he had watched both the whole time and Tim's instinct told him that no sane man would behave like this.

He looked at Maxim, still clapping his hands and suddenly he feared for his friend. He definitely should talk with Philipp. But Philipp hadn't said when they would meet again. Tim refused to think that he was dismissed by two men at the same time. In his writer's brain he registered and analysed it all too well. He noticed it in his mind: the light, the smell, the aura of this place - and this certain story he was involved. He sensed something would happen; Maxim was standing at a cross point, now that he was leaving for Paris to spend certainly his first night with Christian.

One part of him - Tim called it the writer within himself - experienced everything from outside, as an onlooker. The other part was just Tim and his affection for Maxim. He imagined himself a chronicler of the events to happen. A finger snip in front of his face disturbed him. He snapped out of his thoughts and saw Maxim's smiling face. He had tiny water drops upon his nose, the theatre had become hot. "I see you loved it," Maxim said, embraced his finger tips, took him along to the stage and vanished through a door which let both to a tight corridor with many doors. "Joost wants to celebrate."

Tim said nothing. Again one part of himself enjoyed the exuberant mood, the champagne and all but the rest of him worried.

 

* * * * * *

Maxim was up at the crack of dawn. Despite he had packed everything he needed the evening before, he was rushing through his flat, searching for forgotten things. At last he put Tim's novel into his suitcase. When he was damned to wait until Christian's daily meetings were over, he had something to read and fill the time. Coco was following each step he made and was restless as if he knew that Maxim would leave him.

A honk from outside echoed up to him and Maxim rushed to the kitchen window to look outside. It was Christian's blue metallic Audi. He seemed to have affection for blue metallic things, Maxim thought briefly before he rushed to the door to press the opener.

Christian was a little bit out of breath when he appeared but Maxim pulled him into his arms and gave him a resounding kiss. Christian didn't struggle when Maxim kissed him longer than was necessary for a greeting.... until Coco came around the corner and started to hiss. His fur stood on end and he showed his little, sharp teeth. His ears jerked and he arched his back.

"Don't, Coco," Maxim took him quickly up and stroked him. "What are you doing?" The cat's blue eyes gleamed maliciously. "Don't you like cats?" Maxim asked Christian, who was standing there helpless.

"Well... I do."

But Coco doesn't seem to like you, Maxim thought.

Rainer peered through the open door. "Are you ready to leave?" He looked Christian up and down, and Christian returned the examination. 'Now this was the complicated guy' Rainer thought and smiled. He took Christian's hand firmly. "I'll expect you'll be having fun."

"Sure," Christian retorted. "Besides my work to do." He grinned now. "But there's still the wives program to attend."

Maxim and Rainer looked quizzically.

"The entertainment program for the wives and girlfriends. You know: Versailles, Louvre, Disney World, Notre Dame, Champs-Elysees..to spend the hard-earned money of their husbands," he said innocently before all three burst into laughter.

Rainer took Coco from Maxim's arms. "Now, little fellow, say goodbye to Maxim." Coco meowed and Maxim ruffled his fur. "You know where everything is, and please don't forget the plants."

"No, sweetie." This was Joost standing in the doorframe in his morning gown, eyes shaded from lack of sleep. "Have fun." His eyes suddenly pierced Christian and he seemed to wonder if they had met before. Christian sensed the stare and felt uncomfortable. Goodhumoured, he clapped his hands, "Time to go. Do you have everything?"

Maxim nodded, took his suitcase and the rucksack. Joost embraced him, "Watch for yourself."

Maxim laughed and squeezed him too. "You act as if I'm emigrating to Australia. I'm back in six days."

On the flight he sat next to Christian and looked out of the window. His heart pounded when he felt Christian's leg pressing his own. He still wondered why he had asked for Maxim's company. So far he hadn't received anything other than some kisses and no sign that Christian would be falling in love in the next couple of weeks. He gave him a brief side look. Christian had closed his eyes and seemed to take a nap. Probably he wasn't over Philipp and needed time. Perhaps he just didn't want to go to Paris alone and Maxim was the man to fill his empty evenings when the meeting hours were over. 'Wives program'! He thought grinning to himself. He imagined trotting behind a bunch of exuberantly chatting housewives and dressed up girlfriends, hung with golden jewels, mirroring themselves in the shop windows of the Champs- Elysees, shrieking about the high prices or the newest model of Coco Chanel. And what was he supposed to tell them? That he was Christian's younger brother?

Then he felt Christian's hand embracing his own, laying on his thigh, and everything seemed to be fine.

Maxim was disappointed to learn that Christian had booked two single rooms for them, which confirmed his assumption that Christian didn't want salvation from his Philipp-trauma but just company. Standing in the room he found out that a door connected both rooms and his mood improved. Add to this his bed was big enough for two. He wondered if Christian's was the same.

He threw his suitcase upon the bed and opened it before he went to the window. In the distance the Eiffel Tower blurred in the haze of Paris' air. Beside it he could see tiny golden sparkles upon the waters of the Seine and a smile filled his face. He had made it to Paris with the man he longed for over a year... he couldn't quite believe it.

There was a brief knock at the connecting door and Christian entered his room. He went to Maxim standing at the window, stepped behind him and embraced him. "Do you like it?" he asked, while leaning his head against Maxim's hair. Maxim felt his arms and stroked Christian's hands. "I do."

"This afternoon is the first meeting. You're coming with me to learn the schedule and all about the women's program." A chuckle was in his voice and Maxim grinned. "I'd rather go with you to show me around."

"Later. What are you interested in? Fun or sightseeing?"

"Both."

"There's Le Queen at the Champs for instance or Follie's Pigalle or Le Banana-Cafe. Exclusively for guys like us. Fancy one of them?"

Maxim turned in his arms. "Sure, whatever you like. Banana-Cafe?" he asked then.

"With hot Latino rhythm."

"Ah! No hip-hop-crap then?"

Christian shook his head and took Maxim's arm. He led him into his room to the window and pointed to Notre Dame. "The Isle de la Cite. Across from it is the Banana-Cafe." Maxim was excited. Notre Dame's white stones gleamed in the sunbeams which made the big rose window under both towers black like a hole. Due to the dry, warm weather it seemed very near. He felt Christian's body close to his and knew that he would get lucky tonight.

Maxim did not feel comfortable in the large congress-center's foyer. It was too stuffed with all kinds of people from all over Europe. While Christian greeted architect colleagues, Maxim looked at the posters, advertisements and models in the cabinets and display cases. He noticed there was an exhibition that showed the development of architecture from ancient Lutecia to modern times. Maxim found it interesting and decided to watch it first thing next morning when Christian would have his first meeting.

"Are you Christian's company?" a female voice suddenly startled him. He looked up to find a friendly looking, middle-aged woman in a severe dark blue costume, a frilled blouse and a briefcase.

"Yes," he said.

"Fine. I'm Sonja, Christian's colleague."

She stretched out her hand and Maxim took it. "Maxim."

"I don't expect Christian ever mentioned me. I was visiting friends in Paris, so we weren't on the same flight."

"Oh. You mean you work at Christian's office?"

She smiled indulgently. "Did you think Christian works alone? We are four actually." She stroked back her short, aubergine coloured hair and gazed at him, not unfriendly, but Maxim saw that she was wondering what he was doing with him here. Surely she had expected Philipp. Maxim's eyes searched for Christian but he was still engaged in a talk. Sonja beckoned him to sit in a leather corner. "I expected Philipp. What happened?"

When Maxim remained silent she said, "Hey, I know Christian for many years and am well informed about his inclinations. Have they ended their relationship? I thought I would finally receive an invitation for their marriage."

Maxim felt like he had been thrown in a bucket full of ice, and he couldn't answer.

"Tell me please. I don't want to put my foot in it." Her blue eyes were without deceit Maxim found, so he said, "they broke up, it's true. I don't know the reason though."

He read dismay in her half-open mouth.

"Well, our relationship is fresh; he has invited me, to my surprise." He interrupted himself. Why was he talking to her, a stranger, Christian wouldn't like it.

"I see," Sonja said with regret in her voice.

"Made friends already?" Christian stood beside their place, hands in the trousers of his expensive suit. "Hello Sonja, did you have some nice days?"

Sonja rose and Christian placed a kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, I had a very nice time. The plans and models are safe?"

"Sure." He looked at Maxim. "Ready to go? It won't take long. It's just greeting and information." Maxim stood up and the three of them walked into the large room. "What did she want to know?" Christian whispered.

"She expected Philipp with you."

Christian nodded. Maxim didn't mention her remark about the marriage, but he wondered about it a lot.

An orange moon shrouded the monument of Kind Henry IV in bronzed light. Maxim passed it, leaned against a balustrade and looked into the water. Tiny waves swept along, broke at the embankment and became silent again - at least that long before another pleasure steamer would pass the Seine with its illumination of lamp lines decorating the decks. Maxim knew it was a tourist attraction to make a trip through Paris at night by boat, following the old route into the medieval area of the town, passing the island amid the water. Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Jardin de Tuileries and finally the Eiffel tower and the small liberty statue, a copy of the one France had sent to the United States of America as a gift for the anniversary of the independence. In a much bigger version of course.

Maxim turned and looked along the bridge they were standing upon. It was broad and had many protrusions for passengers to admire the view over Paris. Now it was visited by tourists who came into the light circles of the old lanterns and went into shadows again.

Pont Neuf. THE place for couples in love. The sky was a black impenetrable firmament that arched high, without any stars to see. The water gurgled and it smelled like fish mixed with the scent of the largest flower market Maxim had ever seen.

Christian was silent. He stood beside him, but facing opposite, the large Isle de la Cite, his under arms supported at the railing and stared at Notre Dame in the distance. Maxim longed to have a look into the church, climbing up the staircase to one of the towers and the monster's gallery: those eerie looking ugly gargoyles, dragons, apes and disfigured beings like Quasimodo once had been.

The whispering of passengers echoed loud over the water. Maxim didn't hear them. He lifted an arm and ran his fingers through Christian's blond hair, felt the unruly locks at the end of his haircut and stroked his neck. Christian shuddered a little as if his touch was unpleasant. Maxim forced his head to turn and looked into his eyes. Big, sparkling, black diamonds. The mouth a dark red flower. He pressed his lips upon it and felt it opening. Then he felt pulled to Christian's body, embraced and safe.

"Are we going?" he asked low.

Maxim expected Christian would open a bottle of wine so they could sit on the balcony, enjoying the still warm air. But when Maxim wanted to follow him into his room, Christian stopped him, gentle but firmly. "It's a long day tomorrow. What are your plans?"

Maxim stood dumbfounded and couldn't speak at first. "Well, there's an interesting exhibition at the congress centre," he said then.

"The lunch break is at 1 p.m. Are you coming to pick me up then?"

Maxim nodded. Christian pretended not to see his disappointed look, he just bent forward, kissed him briefly and wished him a good night. "Remember what you dreamt on the first night in a foreign bed. It will come true."

He silently closed the door behind him.

Maxim didn't remember what he had dreamt. In fact he knew it when he opened his eyes the next morning but as much as he wanted to hold it, it faded to a mist outside the window. He thought he hadn't slept at all, tossing and turning in his too warm bed, pondering about Christian's rejection. Had he misinterpreted everything? Put too much into a harmless invitation? Perhaps he just wanted to show off in front of the Russian boy, who hadn't any knowledge of the big wide world, as if he was a stupid guy that had never seen a school from inside.

Was it this? On the other side, Christian never acted arrogant, this slight touch of showing off his penthouse apartment at the Potsdamer Platz aside. So he really just wanted any company for his trip, Maxim concluded.

He lifted his legs out of the bed and went barefoot to the window. Again a light fog hovered over the Seine and clouded the legs of the Eiffel tower in the distance. Clouded like his mind. If he would just talk about Philipp. He longed to know about the planned marriage. How was it possible that their relationship had become so strong that they wanted to marry and then broke up from one day to the other? Without showing any pain from Christian's side.

Or was this exactly the expression of Christian's pain: his non-telling, his non-speaking, his refusal of any sexual contact. He couldn't be that daft not to imagine what hopes Maxim would have put into this travel. He couldn't be that insensitive.

Maxim opened the window and stepped onto the balcony that connected both rooms. Christian was leaning at the balustrade, looking down.

"Good morning," Maxim managed to say. He hadn't expected that he was up at that early hour.

Christian, startled, turned his head. "Bonjour, Maxim," he said and smiled. "Isn't it a wonderful morning? And we are both here in Paris, the town of love."

Geez. 'Town of love.' Maxim stared at Christian as if he said they would be in icy cold Siberia.

"Care to share the breakfast with me? I don't want to go down into the stuffed breakfast room."

Maxim could only nod.

Made in Heaven

by Tim Wendlandt

Green severity lay in her golden eyes. She was old - ancient even - yet young. Clouds moved over the surface of her body which she had clad in layers of black lace. He blinked away the haze in his eyes. With the tip of her stick made of glass she touched his forehead.

"You it is," she said with a high-pitched voice, but in his ears it droned like the bronzed sound of the Tenno's gong. They were out of space and time although he knew that he was jogging a minute ago through the public park at the crack of dawn. Now he couldn't see the trees anymore and the light was a silvery fog seeping through the branches. Then he had run into the woman. Or should he say he ran into this being, whose bird-of-prey look pierced him through and through.

"You are the chosen one in this area," she said now and leafed through a tiny, pink booklet that had appeared in her hand. "To celebrate the anniversary of our kingdom, you have one wish free. It shall be granted instantly."

He glared at her. Dumb old cow, he thought. She must have come from a theatre performance, losing her way in the woods, or she had escaped from a house for the mentally insane.

"We don't have time for you to take all day long, young man," she said in a sing- song voice. "Now is the time to tell me your wish and it will be granted promptly." Again she tapped his forehead with her wand.

Wand?

He saw blinding light, then his mind was clear. What could he wish for? Very quickly he pondered the possibilities. He had a job, a nice flat, money to live on, a car. What else? To win the next lottery jackpot?

Then he thought about his secret worry. His best friend was just a tiny ding-dong and wouldn't become much bigger when he was fully awakened. Wary he looked into the fairy godmother's impatient eyes. Could he express such a wish? To a woman?

Ah, what the hell, she waited for an answer and that she was a woman he wasn't sure of. He saw how she disapprovingly stuck out her lower lip. Had she read his mind? He brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered he wished for "a big penis.""

Maxim smirked and leaned his head back against the cushions of the bed. Tim was clever enough to suggest to the reader that there was much more to wish for than a big cock, or a big car, a house, or money.

"A big penis?!" the fairy godmother cried out, flames leapt out of the green severity. She was shushed by him while he looked around, but there was no one except the two of them. She rolled her golden eyes up to heaven, sighed and muttered something about the wealth of ideas of this species of humankind. Then she guided her wand between his legs and touched him there were just a little bulge revealed his manhood. Instantly he felt it grow, a protrusion appeared that bulged his tracksuit bottoms. A snake writhed along his thigh. He felt with his hands and became beet red. "Stop!" he shouted.

The godmother smiled maliciously. "That's enough? Well, have fun then." She stepped away, her wand right beside her. Her feet vanished in a haze hovering over the ground. "Yet one word to all of yours: A fulfilled wish is the father of many wishes to follow", she said stern and her voice echoed around the trees. Then she faded into a whirl of dry leaves.

He stood there, had forgotten her words instantly, but peered into his trousers. There was a thick, long snake indeed; he touched it cautiously but resisted the urge to play with it. His girlfriend would jump for joy! He gambolled like a child through the park, enjoying the new feeling of heaviness between his legs, dangling freely from one side to the other. He started to walk normally again when he met other joggers. Everybody seemed to stare between his legs. Abruptly he stopped his walk. On the other hand, had she ever complained that he wasn't big enough? He couldn't remember if she said so. But secretly she must have longed for a pole that could satisfy her and give her the feeling that she had a real man.

The first thing he did when he came home was to have a shower with his new friend. He stood in awe in front of the mirror, touching the glands having the size of a peach and stroked the shaft, thick as a cucumber, reaching over his belly button. He caressed it until he came, soiled the glass walls of the shower cabin with a stark white gush of viscous juice. His penis remained hard and his excitement grew - until his girlfriend came home and stepped into the shower with him.

"Maxim?"

Maxim started and looked at his watch. Crap, that late already. "I'm here."

Christian opened the connecting door. "I thought you would pick me up," he said, but without reproach.

Maxim put aside Tim's manuscript. "I didn't know what to do there. I've seen the exhibition already. And this," he pointed to the sheets of paper, "reads very good." Christian smiled. "Fine, then let's go out, I'm hungry."

Together they jumped into the late afternoon's rush, sat in a Brasserie, drank Cafe aux lait, and ate crepes with chocolate sauce.

"What would you wish if you had one wish free?" Maxim squinted into the sun, watched the garcons with their long white aprons and money purses wrapped around their waists rushing around the tables, taking order or serving the guests. He was glad that Christian was able to speak French for this morning he had had the sad experience that if you couldn't speak French you were served either badly or not at all. Maxim found it rather arrogant.

"One wish? Usually it's three."

"Just one."

"Hmm." Slip out of my skin perhaps, Christian thought. Forget the four years with Philipp and make me wish to be used to your foreign body. Speculative he watched Maxim. "I don't know right now. It's difficult to answer when it's just one wish."

"The fairy godmother said 'A fulfilled wish is the father of many wishes to follow'" Maxim quoted Tim, although he didn't understand the meaning exactly. But Christian nodded "I know," he said and fell silent again. But perhaps I just want to prolong your desire for me before you realize I'm not worth it. Philipp needed four years. Gregor two. And you? You are smart and independent. And yet I want you. Christian's eyes mirrored his cloudy thoughts and the diamond fire within them died.

Maxim didn't notice; he had his nose in the big bowl of milk coffee and let the last of the sugar mingled frothed up milk melt on his tongue. When he looked up he had a white cream spot on his nose and Christian laughed. He wiped it away with his finger and licked it off. The he locked his eyes with Maxim's and wished the young man with the burning, almond eyes could be his very own, completely. He knew exactly what to wish: A man that would never hurt him; a life time long.

Maxim shuddered. Then he took Christian's hand and played with the fingers. "What's the matter with you?"

"The congress is exhausting."

Maxim started to laugh. "Oh dear, don't tell me this! You know very well what I mean." He became serious again. "You've invited me to Paris to sit in the sun after the exhaustion of your meetings, all right?"

Christian leaned forward. "Nope. To give you a chance to learn to know me better."

"Aha. What for? Do you hope I'm falling in love with you?"

Christian's eyes flashed briefly. "Again nope. You have already."

"Ah well, then you know more than I know." Maxim dropped Christian's hand, leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. Both stared at each other until they started to grin. "What a nonsense," Christian said. "I need time. Four years are long."

And with this he had Maxim on the hook again, called on his sympathy. Surely Christian needed time. He couldn't seriously expect that he would jump into bed with him as if nothing had happened. Maxim wouldn't like such a Christian. On the other hand, Maxim was good in comforting. But when Christian never spoke about himself he couldn't help him, nor could he learn to know him better.

"All I know about you is that you're taciturn as hell."

"You prefer chatterboxes?"

"Yeah. Why have you broken up you and Philipp? Was it because Philipp went with Tim? Have you chucked him out because of this? After four years I don't think you should end a partnership so quickly. And if you ask me, I think when Philipp is looking for another there was something foul before. Or perhaps you lead an open partnership? But I've always seen you both together."

Christian laughed. "Stop it, that's too many questions at once." Christian still smiled but his eyes were sad and dangerous. "It hadn't happened just one time. Tim wasn't the first. I can't live with a man who's notoriously after every pair of pants. Four years are long, it's not a constant honeymoon. He was bored with me I assume. Passion wears out itself and if you aren't friends then, it's the end of a relationship. All that's left is a love affair."

Maxim was astonished about the cool, analysing tone Christian had struck. "That's why you wish that I would learn to know you better. You want to establish a friendship first?" Maxim's candid look was heart rending, but this exactly hit the nail on the head, Christian found. Maxim was fast comprehending. Although.... suppressing his sex-drive was hard for him.

"Yes," he said simply.

"I can't," Maxim replied low. "I can't divide heart and brain. I'm crazy for you and my body longs to give it expression. Why can't we do it at the same time?"

"Because MY body isn't ready for it. Why don't you wait for the right time and don't force it?"

Maxim was despairing. Why couldn't Christian understand what he meant? Instead, he let him starve at his outstretched hand.

"You don't want me. If you did, you wouldn't tell me such stupid things," Maxim said disappointed. Tim was right. A fulfilled wish is the father of many wishes to follow. He had wished that Christian would be interested in him. Spend time with him. Christian does and now? Was it good? What would happen after a fulfilled night with him? Would it be good? Would it lead to the wish of nights to follow?

Christian leaned forward in his chair. "I do want you. If you like me, give me time." Abruptly he changed the subject. "Notre Dame?"

When Maxim came back to the hotel and Christian returned to his congress, he had made a decision: He wouldn't touch Christian anymore, leave him alone, trying to have as much fun as he could. He had even booked one of the women's excursions to Montmartre next morning and he would tell every one of the rocks-hung housewives that he was Christian's lover. He looked forward to see the shocked faces.

"His girlfriend looked in shock between his legs, were this new monster dangled. He told her proudly that a fairy godmother had fulfilled his one wish and this was the result. If she wasn't happy?

Happy? Slowly she came to terms that he was telling the truth; he had not been in a clinic for penis enlargements nor did she have a bad dream right now. Strange things happened apparently. He was more than eager to demonstrate his new, powerful tool when she stated that she wouldn't be able to take this without a lot of pain and she wasn't up for it. He must have been insane anyway and a typical macho in addition. Had she ever complained? She liked him the way he was. Hadn't he some useful wishes, like to protect him and herself from harm, injuries or even having a never ending source of money so they could spend their life in the Caribbean islands? No! He must brag about such a useless ... nothing nobody would have a fortune from. She started to sob. "You know I wanted a child. And you know very well that I'm infertile."

Crap. Yes. He remembered now. Head lowered he followed her through the flat, and there was no way that he would get lucky tonight. She didn't want to speak with him the next week and he was left alone with his new friend - his only friend now, for he couldn't tell anybody what happened to him, so it was indeed useless. He played with it as often as he could, until he decided to use it with a whore.

She came - all the experienced older woman she advertised herself in the newspaper - and was delighted when she groped him and sensed his bigness. With an extra bit of lubricant she was able to take him although she didn't seem to feel real pleasure. Like he did. It had never been that good. Or was this imagination? Well at least she licked and sucked him, although the pleasure of being completely taken when he had been just a good mouthful wasn't anymore.

He felt unsatisfied when she was gone and looked at the card in his hand she had given him. "Flesh," a studio that made porn films. As it turned out there were produced both, porn's for straights and gays. It didn't take long until the gays stood and watched him in action, and until he was asked if it would be ok when he would pose for photos. He agreed to the photos, he agreed to have photos with him in action with another guy. That guy really knew how to satisfy a man and his orgasms weren't just a fake.

He let the other touch him in places he never knew would give so much pleasure and the other even agreed to being fucked, which needed a lot of time, protection and carefulness; the camera didn't disturb him.

After a month he was the star in the gay porn scene and thought to be happy. Although he despised the business and gays especially; those cock obsessed perverts. He had given a lot to meet the fairy godmother but he never saw her again. And so he remained lonely with his friend and came to the conclusion that wishes are sometimes made in hell."

Maxim let the paper sheet sink. Surely a monster cock wasn't the end of the world he thought. There were so many possibilities to make love. But the message was another one. Be careful what you wish for, it could come true, and instead of wishing for a big cock he could have wished for more love skill, for 'size wasn't everything, just what you do with it,' as the saying goes. And when one wish brings with it the next wish, what would it be then? To wish somebody who could take his monster prick easily?

Maxim grinned. He missed his cat that would sit in his lap with his ancient wisdom. Actually the guy should have wished for his girlfriend, he thought then and yawned. It was shortly before six and he was hungry. Christian wouldn't come home before eight, so Maxim left the hotel to go shopping.

Armed with a city guide, he stepped into the Metro and left it at Concorde, a devastating wide place where the Eiffel tower stands enthroned, but he turned to the other side, to the Rue Royal which would lead him to the church Madeleine, and the big shopping centres like the galleries Lafayette. He knew it from Berlin, but that was only a poor imitation of the mother-house here in Paris he had heard.

Maxim dove into a completely new world which he had to absorb first before he could walk on. He was used to Berlin's new built houses - not always tasteful, and with too much glass and concrete. But Paris had kept its old fashioned charm, although Baron Haussmann, Napoleon's architect, had cut large lanes into Paris' belly. This one led to La Madeleine - a church that looked like a Greek temple - and was lined with very famous restaurants and shops. Striped awnings tempted him to watch the presentation of the flower shop Lachaume that filled the pavement with all possible colours and forms. When Maxim had seen enough, he passed Lalique and pressed his nose against the windowpanes, along with other tourists, admiring the filigree creations of crystal and jewellery, of watches and lamps. But next to it, Christofle bedazzled with its gold war creations to buy. For that Maxim's purse was, by far, not big enough.

Excited though sad, Maxim left the cake shop Laduree behind and entered the wide Place de la Madeleine to have a look in the church and its Corinthian pillars and heavy bronze doors. His stomach growled. Car traffic shortly befuddled his brain, then he saw the advertisement Fauchon - 1886 over the entrance to the legendary delicatessen shop.

Maxim didn't hesitate and was a minute later wrapped in sweet-spicy scent that made his mouth water. He saw coloured tea tins that covered one side of the wall and the rest was occupied by sweets. Maxim couldn't resist and bough Babas - the speciality of the house - after a sales woman had offered him one. The little cake, marinated in Grand Marnier, melted in his mouth. Delighted, he chose some of the sweet chestnut bonbons, apple tea- biscuits, nougat-dominoes and caramels as well as a box of several jams. He didn't regret spending the money for he loved to give presents to the ones that were dear to him.

Outside, the yellow dancing letters of Maxim's caught his eye. So he decided to raid his credit card and allow himself a coffee and a piece of cake. Besides that, he found it funny to share the same name.

The Belle …poques decor was overwhelming; it was as if one was entering a blue-red cathedral made of glass and ornamented wood; with plush sofas and chairs and very courteous waiters - so that Maxim dared to order finally.

He sat in the so-called corridor where one could sit and see the people and you were to be seen - which was the important thing, according to the dolled up, elder women and distinguished elder men, eyeing each other satisfied and put on their best pose. Tim would love it, Maxim thought; he could study the people that would give him many impulses.

He tried one of the chocolate covered orange pieces laying beside his coffee cup and decided to take a package of them home for Tim and Christian, although this probably wouldn't go well with Tim's diet plan.

A little forlorn, he looked out the window to the Rue Royal. Was Christian really worth the wait? Was he so attractive for Maxim, or had it become Maxim's habit to like him because he had now for so long? Christian hadn't given away any personal thing, no history of himself. What was there to like then? Did Christian want to keep on with Maxim so that he was on call at any time and for any occasion? Was Maxim really in need to chase after him?

Maxim had told him that he was crazy for him, but there hadn't been a reaction: no flattered face, no rejection; Christian hid his feelings very deep, and it was Maxim's job to dig below the surface.

Maxim emptied his coffee cup and picked up the last crumbs from his plate. Actually it wasn't such fun to stroll alone through Paris; but perhaps this trip would cool down his affection and he could open himself to another love. Tim would have been better company he thought.

After he had paid he took all of the small and bigger parcels he had strewn around himself. It was time to return to the hotel. The Lafayette he would have to leave for a later visit. He didn't know Christian's plans for tonight. And he was actually eager to continue Tim's novel.

He was pleased to learn that Christian had already picked up his key. Maxim stormed the staircase, knocked at Christian's door and entered, bags swinging around him. He found him brooding over sheets of paper and thumbing a book when Maxim let dangle a bag from behind in front of Christian's nose.

"Ah, Maxim's! Have you plundered the shop?" Christian turned. "I wondered where you were when you were not here." A steep wrinkle had built between his brows.

Maxim shoved one of the chocolate-oranges between his lips and stopped him from being angry. "What are your plans now? Or are you too exhausted to do anything?"

Instantly Christian's face lit up. He swallowed the rest of the sweet and licked his lips. "Great tasting. Thanks for this, but you really didn't have to do it."

Maxim frowned. Why did he have to say this? "It was a pleasure," he mumbled but felt himself grabbed by his upper arms. "I guess it was funny for you to sit in the restaurant with your name, wasn't it?" Christian said. "If they had known they would have given you a percentage." He grinned now. A mischievous grin Maxim loved instantly.

Christian shut the book and looked at his watch. "Surprise for you this evening," he said mysteriously. "What about meeting again here in an hour?"

Maxim looked indeed surprised and a little suspiciously but was shoved out of Christian's room into his own.

After an hour, and a long luxurious bath, he opened the connecting door and was awaited by a full laid table where silver plates were covered with silver bowls. Candles were lit and the curtains drawn.

Maxim let a little cry escape when he stood petrified at the door, looking at Christian who had dressed in his best suit.

"Oh," Maxim stuttered, "if I had known I would have spent my last money for a tailcoat."

Christian stepped to him with a glass of dark red wine and presented it to him. "You like it?"

Surely Maxim did, but he couldn't speak for the moment. What was this about?

"Welcome to Paris, Maxim. I thought of giving you a real welcome dinner. Better than at Maxim's." He smiled. The candlelight made his hair silvery and his face smooth and soft. Maxim's heart pounded.

Christian behaved better than all the garcon's in the world when he shoved Maxim's chair under his butt and lifted the bowls from the plates. It was lamb with rosemary potatoes and a ratatouille that made Maxim's mouth water more than the sweets at Fauchon. Slowly he guided the fork to his mouth and tried to enjoy it as long as he could. Christian stared at him, not speaking before their plates were empty. For desert he gave Maxim another glass with a sweet tasting muscatel wine until he felt a little dizzy in the head.

"Have you something to celebrate?" he finally broke the silence. "A new contract for instance?"

Christian looked at him. "Not yet. But the prospect." He took another sip from his wine. "You complained about knowing nothing about myself. What do you want to know?"

"Well..." Being asked so bluntly, Maxim suddenly couldn't think of any of the questions. His spoon scratched the base of the crystal chalice. "Sonja said you wanted to marry?" he asked then low.

Christian harshly put back his glass of wine. "You start with the most difficult question." He paused. "Well, yes. *I* wanted but he didn't."

"Why?"

"Honestly, I don't know. He said he was too young." Christian pushed back his chair, took the glass and went to Maxim, pulling him up and stood with him at the couch. "Still hungry?" he asked.

Maxim wasn't sure if he meant the meal or other things. Referring to 'other things' he was hungry as hell. He smelled Christian, a scent like wood and clear water, but remained silent. Perhaps his eyes had betrayed him, for Christian sat his glass back and turned completely to him.

"That's all you want to know right now?" he whispered. He didn't give Maxim time for an answer for he was kissing him now, long and deep until Maxim struggled for breath. He could feel Christian's hardness and he might feel his own. Was this the night? Had he planned all this? Seducing him with lamb and ratatouille? If yes, Maxim didn't mind. He felt pulled over to the bed where Maxim started to kiss him, outlined his lips with his tongue, wandered over his face to the long nose, to his ear and down his neck while his fingers opened the belt of his trousers.

Christian didn't stop him, just let it happen, eyes closed and an entranced look on his face. A little moan came from his lips when Maxim's fingers opened the slit of his briefs and dove his head into it. He pulled out the half hard penis and licked at its soft surface, feeling the hardness beneath. He tasted the pure, clear liquid, dribbling out of the slit.

Christian lifted his butt so Maxim could push down briefs and trousers at once and consumed his member completely, devoted himself to this exciting task while his own hardness strained painfully against the fabric of his trousers. Christian wriggled but still said nothing. He just opened his shirt and tossed it aside. Maxim stopped his ministrations and laid his body full weight upon Christian's. His chest was hairless and velvet as their nipples rubbed each others. But he detected scars on his skin he wanted to ask him about, but decided now wasn't the time.

"Come on," Maxim whispered. "Give me your body." His fingers massaged Christian's penis gently, tugged at the foreskin, shoving it gently back and forth and smeared the clear drops over the head. Christian smiled and started to undress Maxim impatiently, before both lay naked, side by side, stroking each other's cocks, lips locked, moaning into each other's mouths.

Christian crawled lower until his mouth reached Maxim's buttocks, parted them and licked the reddish hole, making Maxim tremble with desire. But he didn't know if to wish or fear what was to come, but he tried to relax. After all, this was what he had wanted all the time and now there was no turning back. Christian's silence frightened him. Why couldn't he talk? Why couldn't he tell him, that he liked what he saw and felt? Perhaps this had been the reason Philipp had left. Hadn't Maxim waited long enough, always frustrated by Christian's rejections? Was it now the right way to consume everything - or was it better to take it slowly, enjoy and explore their bodies in a slow way?

Christian's tongue went deeper, exploring now the inside of his hole. Maxim grasped the sheets and moaned involuntarily. Then he felt himself turned around and expected more kisses, but Christian persevered, looking at Maxim's body. His hand slowly started to touch him, from the navel down, following the small trace of dark, almost invisible hair and up again to the edge of Maxim's erect penis. He interrupted himself to lick his finger and then touched the shaft. It was cool and warm at the same time, and Maxim's skin reacted. His penis jerked. Christian's finger nail scraped a little. Soft and softer. His cock now produced a constant river of excitement which was licked off by Christian. Maxim didn't know how he did it, but it felt as if he had two lovers. One that ministered his member, one that sucked his hole. He wanted him suddenly with every fibre of his body.

A finger slipped into his entrance, he was stretched and explored and his back arched. Maxim thought he heard whispering voices in his ears, a constant chatter, but Christian was still silent.

Then Maxim sensed Christian fumbling with his trousers laying on the floor and heard him tear open plastic with his teeth. His heartbeat became even faster when he sat upright, took the condom from Christian's hands and pushed it over Christian's cock. He gave him a smile and stroked the length up and down. Christian was big but he doubted he would have problems. He pushed Christian onto his back and straddled him. The condom was wet and slippery and Maxim rubbed it between the cleft of his arse cheeks.

"Why are you so quiet?"

"Do you want dirty talk?" Christian responded.

Maxim rolled his eyes. "Just tell me that you like me."

"I like you." Christian didn't bat an eyelid.

"Why are you doing this with me?"

Christian started a little laugh. "Because I'm horny?" he suggested.

"Horny in general or horny for me?"

"Both."

"Jesus Christ, you're a difficult case to handle, I can tell you." It sounded easy, but Maxim's heart hurt. He felt his excitement subsiding and he lost some of his hardness. Couldn't he tell him that he liked him? That it was great to be in bed with him finally? Surely, Christian had given him a foretaste that he was a great lover, but the silence disturbed him. But then there were Christian's hands. Embracing his penis, massaging his balls and fondling its way to the entrance of his butt. A finger slipped into his hole again and Maxim literally saw stars.

"Stop talking, Maxim," Christian whispered and Maxim closed his mouth. He guided Christian's penis to his backside entrance and relaxed. He breathed slowly in and out and smiled at Christian whose face was close to his own, but now had his eyes closed. He didn't move. But as soon as Maxim's anus opened and the penis slid in, Christian's grey look stared at him, but didn't recognize him exactly. Instead, it seemed to Maxim as if he stared right through him; beyond room and time and a smile formed on Christian's lips. His arms embraced Maxim's body and held him tight around the waist, whispering "don't move yet." But Maxim couldn't hold on very long when Christian's hand embraced his penis firmly, massaging the oozing head until he engaged Maxim in a fiery kiss. His hips started to buck up and down, taking Maxim with him into the same rhythm, gradually getting faster. Maxim dishevelled Christian's short hair, raked all his fingers through it until it stood on end. It revealed another scar right under his hairline, a rosy, old line, a little jagged.

Maxim moaned when Christian's penis had found his prostate inside which let his own member jerk and explode in Christian's hand. His white, creamy fluid shot up to Christian's chest, flooded over Christian's fingers, and Maxim's mind went blank, his breath sounded loud in his ears, and he still felt Christian rocking and bucking.

He opened his eyes, saw Christian's concentrated face. So concentrated that it looked almost relaxed. He still stroked Maxim's penis. Gently as if he knew what he was doing. Maxim bent down and kissed his mouth, clamping the muscles in his anus and moving so Christian's cock found the magic spot again. He felt again tingling in his groin.

But seconds later a cry escaped Christian - "Philipp!" - while he emptied himself into Maxim's body.

Maxim was down to earth, his excitement gone. He stared unbelieving into his lover's strained face, the eyes closed, the lashes wet from unshed tears. He didn't move. The tingling had gone and suddenly Maxim felt pain.

He held the rim of the condom and freed himself of Christian's intruder, then he took his shirt, laying on the floor, and cleaned his chest of his own semen.

Silence filled the room when he sat next to Christian, his knees pulled up to his chest, avoiding Christian's face. His anus felt stretched and big and empty.

After an endless time he heard a silent, "I'm sorry," and Maxim's shoulders flinched like in unconscious defence. Christian stood up and walked over to the window. "Do you have a cigarette?" he asked low.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Christian blew grey smoke against the window pane. He was still naked and Maxim stared at his round butt, feeling his own hurt. Perhaps there's nothing more shameful than to hear the name of an old lover at the highest peak of an orgasm.

"But I can't forget him." More grey smoke curled up and filled the room. Maxim sucked heavily on his own.

"You break my heart." Maxim had rose from the bed and draped the sheet around his waist. Somehow he couldn't stand Christian's naked view anymore. All that he felt was dirt. Outside and inside.

"Do you listen?" He raised his voice. "You break my heart!"

Christian's head sunk. "I know."

"You could have said no." Maxim stepped closer to him. "Why did you sleep with me when you wasn't ready. When all you can think is ... him."

Christian swirled around and held his palm over Maxim's mouth. "Stop it," he hissed. "You destroy everything. Stop talking it down. And don't tell me you didn't seduce me right now."

Maxim wriggled and bit into Christian's hand. Christian flinched and took it quickly away. Maxim gathered his clothes, then he banged the connecting door from outside.

Christian stood a moment irritated, then he rushed out of his room, following Maxim into his room and grabbed him around the waist.

"No, you can't vanish like this." They fought for a moment, then Maxim gave up. Christian was too strong for him. "You can't go." Christian repeated out of breath. He stared at him, eyes piercing, splinters of ice. "Give me time. If you feel something for me, give me time. Please." The ice in his eyes melted.

"How long? You ask if I feel something for you?" Maxim laughed hysterically. "Are you joking? It's you who let me starve at your outstretched hand. Damn, you know that I want you. It's my bad luck you don't want me the way I want you." His face had reddened and tiny drops of sweat appeared on his nose. "Tell me when you've decided to forget him. But I'm not waiting." Maxim's eyes flashed sparks and suddenly Christian smiled. He felt light hearted, a long time missed feeling.

"That's what I want to hear, honey." He grabbed Maxim's hand and led him into his room again, pushed him on to the bed, freed him from the bed sheet and pulled him next to him into the bed. Maxim was too stunned to fight. He couldn't follow all the mood changes. Sex hung in the air. And hurt feelings.

Christian was stroking Maxim's body, up his back to his neck, ruffling the fine dark hair and down again, over his buttocks, along the leg Maxim had draped over Christian's abdomen. "Four years are a long time. I can't rip them out of my heart. If you love me you have to accept this."

'If you love me....' it reverberated in Maxim's head. He didn't know if he loved Christian. Not yet. He lay still, feeling Christian's hands stroking him; those gentle hands and felt his kisses. "Forgive me," he heard. "I love you. I just couldn't show it. I was too afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Maxim asked. "Of me?"

"Of myself."

Maxim didn't understand his words. Christian bent over and started to kiss him. It took a while until Maxim returned the kisses. He felt Christian's hands again, stroking over his body, pulling him to his chest, squeezing his buttocks and slipping into his hole again. Maxim sighed. The emptiness was gone now. He was filled again and felt Christian's erection on his belly. His eyes were open and focused at his own. And this time Maxim knew that Christian was completely with him.