A Promise and a Curse - 3. Chapter 3

The air was mild when Simon stepped out of Ben's little car. Even from the outside he could hear the laughing of a crowd of people, loud music echoed over the street and broke against the walls of the houses on the opposite side of the street.

"I should buy you a bigger car, Ben," he said, stretching his limbs.

"Fine with me," Ben responded. "How many times would you have to sell your ass for this?"

Simon rolled his eyes at Ben and gave him a box on the shoulder. "Come in, they're at it already."

Marcus' big exhibition hall was only dimly lit, a few spots in corners and on tables with lanterns hanging across the room. There was no sign of the fire, which had broken out a month ago; walls and ceilings were white-washed again.

Ben could make out a large buffet at one side of the hall. He turned up his nose because of the cigarette smoke curling up to the ceiling. "Now, where's the birthday child?" Simon asked.

"Right behind you," he heard a deep voice and looked into Marcus' slightly reddened eyes. "Thought you both wouldn't come, it's getting late."

"Happy birthday, honey." Simon gave him a wrapped parcel. "Take care of it, it's fragile."

"That's all?" Marcus kept a straight face. "No kiss?"

Simon grinned, leaned towards Marcus and gave him a resounding kiss on the lips before he felt himself hugged tightly.

"How are you?" Marcus whispered.

"Fine. I'm okay." He didn't want to tell his ex-lover how bad he had felt lately.

"Ben?"

Simon freed himself. "He's here with me and I am beginning to enjoy it."

Marcus smiled. "I certainly hope so." His eyes wandered to Ben, standing a bit awkwardly aside, watching. Then he stretched out his hand. "Happy Birthday, Marcus. The present is from both of us."

"Thanks, dear. You know you don't have to." He smiled warmly and kept Ben's hand in his until Simon emitted a little cry and rushed away to fall a moment later into Kay's arms.

Ben removed his hand. "His brother is here?" he asked in stunned surprise.

"Yes!" Marcus beamed. "I had no clue that he and Sebastian would come over! Nick must be somewhere over there." He pointed to the back of the hall.

"Hungry?"

"Starving!"

"Come with me." He led him to the cold buffet. "Sebastian and Nick have cooked in the little pantry. Try the pears with coriander and cress." He placed two of them on his plate. "Would you like a chicken leg?"

Ben nodded. He inspected the fruit salads, stuffed mushrooms, fried potatoes, eggs and sea-foods. His stomach rumbled and Marcus laughed. "Ok, I will leave you alone. Enjoy your meal." Then he turned. "Did you bring your drawings?"

"Yes."

Marcus nodded. "All right. I will have a look at them later."

Elli Schneider again was wearing her tight green pants and a long loose poncho of orange colour. She stomped on her high heels towards Simon and Kay because she recognized the lad. Kay stuffed his mouth with green salad, alternating chewing and chatting with his brother. "You must be Kay!" she shouted, her forefinger prodding Kay's chest. Kay and Simon turned surprised.

"My, you look really that good like in Nick's paintings! But where's your blond hair? Well, doesn't matter, I like it anyway," she laughed and Kay smiled politely.

"Excuse me?"

"Nick. I bought his painting of you recently. At Marcus' last exhibition, don't you remember?"

"Yes, of course." He exchanged an amused glance with Simon. "Have you had a taste of that wonderful salad already?" he asked finally.

"It's my special recipe, Madam." Sebastian stood behind her and kept a straight face. "May I show you the way?" He looked invitingly at her. "But I really want to exchange a few words with that good looking lad, Sebastian."

"Aren't I good looking enough for you?"

Kay and Simon burst out in laughter when he took her arm in a determined grip and went away with her.

"What was that?"

"My biggest fan." Kay sighed mockingly. "Nick got a commission work from her to paint all her family members. Now he's going to earn a fortune apparently!"

Simon grinned and let his eyes wander around the room. "Have you seen a tall man, blond hair and blue eyes?"

"Nick?"

"No, Rene. He promised to meet me here. Haven't seen him for two weeks."

Kay shook his head. "Who's this?"

"A friend of mine."

Kay eyed him. "I thought you're with Ben?"

"I am, Kristian. Sort of."

Kay interrupted him. "Call me Kay. I don't answer to Kristian anymore."

"So?" Simon remembered that his brother had suddenly chosen his second name for his first name. He found it odd, but then, Kristian had always been full of little loveable quirks. "Rene was the reason Marcus and I broke up. He found us in bed."

Kay shook his head. "And you invited him to Marcus' birthday party? Don't think this is a good idea. Marcus must hate him!"

"Do you think so?" He sighed. "Yes, it was a stupid idea. I just want to see him again. He wasn't in a good mood last time I saw him. Thought he could have a little fun."

"Yeah, that's nice of you, but not at Marcus' birthday party!" Kay still shook his head. "Daniel, Sebastian's cousin came with us. We made a trip to northern Italy where we visited him. He has an apple farm!"

"Ah! And? Isn't he like Sebastian?"

"Very!" Kay chuckled. "Must be somewhere here in the hall . . . come, let us go find Nick."

Vera, Nicholas' mother, was determined to make the visit short. She didn't know these people and was relieved as she saw Marcus coming straight to her. He held out a plate filled with salad and toast in one hand, the other carried a glass of white wine. He placed it upon a little table, gave her the cutlery and sat beside her. "Are you feeling well? The last time you were not amused in that surrounding, were you?"

"No, I wasn't. Is your housekeeper here too?"

"Anna, yes. I think she's chatting with one of my business partners." He looked at her. "You're doing really fine? Nick told me you moved out of your flat?"

Vera was embarrassed. "He didn't need to tell you this."

Marcus briefly touched her shoulder. She wore the cream-coloured costume her son had bought her with money from his first self-earned money as a painter.

"It's a wonderful costume you're wearing, Vera. It suits you very well." He smiled encouraging. "Now, the secret is kept in the family. I always had the feeling that you didn't deserve such a life."

Vera looked up. "Which life? You mean because we aren't rich as you? We were always a happy family."

Marcus flinched a bit. "Of course. I'm sorry. But I had the feeling that Nick wanted more. He's intelligent and deserves the chance to do more with his life. And you," he bent over, "I imagine you surrounded with all the things your heart desires."

Vera said nothing but took her glass and sipped at the wine. Then she said, "I live in my sister's flat. But it's impossible, of course. She has three kids and I must share the room with the youngest. Rudolf called the other day ..." She trailed off abruptly. She didn't want to say this, nor did she want to complain. But Marcus still smiled.

"And what did he say?"

"That I should come back. Hopefully not only because he used his last clean pair of socks and underwear!" She laughed. It was a pleasant sound and Marcus was happy to see her laughing.

"Certainly not!" he said. "And your decision? Or do you want to live alone? Move into your own flat?"

"I don't know. I've never lived alone before."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Never?" Surely never. She moved from her parent's house - now married - to another one.

A flourish sounded and a spotlight illuminated Marcus' face. "And now, Ladies and Gentlemen," Sebastian's voice sounded, "get ready for the big birthday cake!"

From a little room behind the hall, a ridiculously big cake was carried. With white icing, thirty little pink candles burning and decorated with coloured drops of clotted cream. A multi-voiced "AAhhh!" filled the room.

"Jesus!" Marcus said, as he jumped up, went over and obeyed the orders to blow out the candles in one breath. "Don't forget to make a wish!" Marcus closed his eyes, took a deep breath and walked around the cake to blow out the candles. A bit embarrassed, he stood in front of all the clapping people and laughed. He felt Nicholas at his side. "Now, what did you wish?"

"Secret, darling." He gave Nicholas a very longing gaze and Nick giggled.

Sebastian lent him a knife. "You do. We are keen on birthday cake.î

Sighing, Marcus cut pieces and made a mess of his black jacket. Anna rushed to him and rubbed it with her handkerchief. "Christ! What a commotion." He stepped away from Anna, dragging Nicholas with him into a corner. There, Nicholas pulled out a little parcel from his trouser pocket. "Happy birthday, Marcus." He leaned over and kissed him on the lips. "Open it."

"Here?"

Nicholas nodded.

Marcus untied the ribbon and ripped open the paper. He saw a little box and opened it. It was a jade elephant, a marvellous, soft, green colour, just the right size to carry in a trouser pocket.

"A memory like an elephant. It shall remind you of your promise," Nicholas said.

Marcus looked up into Nicholas' eyes. "That's the best present I've ever had," he said finally and pulled Nick into a tight embrace. "I won't forget my promise, sweetheart, I swear."

"Oh, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon . . . " Nicholas laughed and let his hands roam all over Marcus' back.

"Look at these love birds." Sebastian said. "Time to unwrap all your presents, honey. First, ours."

He pointed to the table where parcels were already piled high with hampers of flowers forming a ring around the table. Marcus sighed but followed him. Sebastian gave him a large parcel, wrapped in yellow paper. It was heavy and Marcus fought to rip off the paper. Then he held in his hands a glass frame of a copperplate engraving with an old vedute of ancient Rome.

"Wow, Bastian, what's this? Certainly not a genuine Piranesi?"

Sebastian held Kay's hand and both nodded. "Really!? Jesus . . . Bastian, Kay. That's far too expensive! Where did you find it?"

Kay beamed. He loved surprises. "There's a shop where you can buy genuine Parinesis."

"Piranesi, honey," Sebastian threw in.

"Yeah, whatever. Of course only if you have the right connection." He winked.

"I only hope you didn't have to fuck the owner!" Marcus shot back. He stepped to both and embraced them. "Too much, honey," he whispered. "Your presence is surprise enough."

Simon held his glass of wine, sipped occasionally and looked again at the entrance. Slowly he had given up hope that Rene would appear and he was disappointed. Or perhaps rather relieved . . .

He watched Marcus unwrapping his presents . . . a second flashback shot through his mind as though it had been only a few days before. It had been Marcus last birthday, which had taken place at Marcus' house. His parents had been there from Tenerife and all his business partners and friends. Simon smiled wistfully. It was true that he had always given himself as a present - not exactly exciting anymore - so Simon had thought about different places, exciting surroundings . . . his parent’s swimming pool for instance or Marcus' garden at midnight. Simon grinned now at the recollection . . .

"And therefore, all my friends," Marcus had sat at the big dining table and raised his glass, "I would love to say my thanks for your coming." Simon's watch had said it had been half past eleven at night and he had been getting bored. All the people he had already met on several business trips abroad and he wasn’t keen to see them again. One look in all their faces had told him that there hadn’t been anybody sober by this time; flushed, sweating faces, women who had dressed down a bit so that he could see their breasts only covered with thin material, the men had taken off their dinner jackets and loosened their ties. But Marcus had seemed to be all right, except for his rolled up sleeves and the button he had opened at the top of his shirt.

All eyes had been turned toward Marcus. "Let me say it again . . ."

Simon had giggled and vanished under the table. He hadn’t known if anybody took notice and if so, he hadn’t cared. He had crept between Marcus legs, reached above and carefully opened Marcus' fly. He had pulled the zipper down and raised his head near the opening. He could hear Marcus jerk and break out coughing. Apparently he had swallowed a gulp of wine the wrong way.

"Let me say it again . . . Jesus, it's hot in here."

The crowd had burst into laughter and Simon had taken the opportunity to pull out Marcus' penis from the opening of his briefs.

"Could . . . someone dim the lamps please." Marcus' voice had been laboured.

Simon had stuck out his tongue and licked at the crown of Marcus' still limp penis, felt it twitching and rising in rapid movement. He was really horny when he was drinking . . . Simon had giggled once more, silently so that nobody could hear.

"Oh yeah, that's better." The guy sitting next to Marcus had stepped upon Simon's hand and he had suppressed an outcry. He had rubbed it with his other hand and then he had gripped the shaft of Marcus' penis, sucking feverishly at it.

"I want to tell you once more . . . that I have you . . . that even my . . . Christ! . . . parents . . . I really appreciate that they . . . came from so far away . . . to join . . . us."

Marcus must have been sweating like mad, Simon remembered. His disjointed speech he never had finished that evening . . . Simon had teased him with his tongue, licking furtively and very slowly up and down, circling around the tip, pressing his tongue into the slit and he had felt from time to time Marcus' hand ruffling his hair in an effort to push him away. But Simon hadn’t given up; he had known that Marcus must have been most furious and horny at the same time.

And then, all he had heard was a sudden cheering, the clinking of glasses and he had felt a spurt, which had flooded into Simon's sucking mouth. He had never known what had been going on above the table and if anyone had ever noticed what had been going on under the table. He had packed Marcus' spent cock back in his briefs, zipped up the trousers and crept back to his place where he had appeared in his chair again. A long glance from Marcus had told him that he had wanted desperately to burst out in laughter. He had pointed to his chin and Simon had wiped away the white remains of his game.

Now Simon couldn't hold his laughter. Marcus' face had been too funny. He watched him still unwrapping his presents and giving his thanks to the givers. Then he turned to Ben and said. "Think Rene won't show up this evening. Let's have a party of our own, o.k.? What do you want to drink?"

"Geez, I think I'm plastered." Simon plopped himself down on his sofa and leaned his head against the back.

Ben came and sat beside him, watching his closed eyes. "I hope you are!"

He turned over, put his hand on Simon's chest, kissed his lips and began to unbutton his white shirt. Simon briefly opened his eyes but began to give in to Ben's lips, his roaming hands all over his chest, the fingers that went down to his groin, feeling what the trousers hid. "Come on baby, I've waited long enough," Ben murmured.

Simon lifted his head so abruptly that he bumped Ben's forehead. "Ouch." Simon wiped the place, then looked into Ben's hazel eyes. "So this is our big day, isn't it?"

Ben nodded, determined, and stroked Simon's cheek. "I dreamt of you since our first meeting," he whispered. His hands slid down again to the zipper, opened it; his fingers went inside, found the cotton briefs and the hard erection. Surprised, he lifted his head again and found Simon grinning.

Simon bent forward all of a sudden and laughing said, "I'm horny as hell whenever I drink too much!" With this he pulled down his trousers, the socks, ripped off his shirt and was naked in no time. Ben was stunned, then he couldn't hold himself and joined Simon's laughter. He began to undress himself and ran with Simon into the bedroom, his heart pounding in anticipation, pulling Simon on top of himself when they fell on the bed.

"Wait," Simon mumbled and reached into the drawer of the little table standing next to the bed. He tossed Ben a pair of wrapped condoms. "Gosh!" Ben said, "We will spend a fortune on these things!" He picked one and tore it open.

"So what? It's well invested." Simon gave him an evil grin, removed Ben's glasses from his nose and put them onto the table. His fingers glided over Ben's shoulders, around his waist and then along his legs. "You're beautiful," he murmured and Ben's ears reddened. "Do you think? What did Marcus do? Did he fuck you or vice versa?"

"He did me."

Simon was absorbed in Ben's skin, the scent of it, the faint trace of alcohol on his breath and the engorged cock. He put his fingertip on it and felt the droplets of precum. Then he licked his finger and smiled.

"And you?"

Ben remembered instantly Frank, and the memory of his urge to ram his cock into Frank's exposed ass was vivid as ever. He returned Simon's smile. "I'm eager to try, if you don't mind."

"Don't mind?" Simon laughed. "I hunger for it." He wrapped his hand around Ben's penis and gave it a long stroke. Ben shivered. Simon flung himself upon Ben's body, straddled his waist and sat upon Ben's groin, playing with his cock, never losing his grin. Then he bent over him and took Ben's ponytail. He looked for the small ribbon, removed it and Ben's black hair flowed over the pillow. "Snow White," he whispered and kissed his forehead. "Close your eyes."

Ben blinked and then did what he wanted. He left his body to Simon's experienced hands, felt him outlining a scar he had on his right side. "Appendix?" Simon asked.

Ben nodded with eyes closed. Simon slipped downwards and kissed it. Ben giggled, "I can't feel anything at that place, Simon." "No?" Simon's tongue went a little beside the scar. "And here?"

"Hmmm." The tongue neared his cock, lying flat on his belly.

"And here?" Simon swallowed, most unexpectedly, the crown and Ben gasped.

"Yeah."

Simon chuckled and doubled his effort. He felt Ben's hand ruffling his hair, urging his lips to get more of his cock into Simon's sucking mouth, which Simon let happily happen. Then he took the condom and pulled it carefully over Ben's cock.

He lifted and positioned himself over Ben's crotch when Ben opened his eyes again. "Don't honey, I want to go into you. May I?" "As you like, honey." He smiled, climbed down, lay on his back and opened his legs. Ben closed his eyes briefly. This was the moment he had dreamt of, every night, in every day dream . . . He placed his lips near Simon's hole, sniffed its masculine scent, opened his mouth, licked over the orifice and felt Simon's anus twitching. "There's lube in the drawer," Simon said huskily.

Ben took it and greased his fingers before he slipped them into Simon's twitching anus. It was warm, very warm and elastic. He crawled higher and closed Simon's open mouth with his lips. He played with his tongue, heard Simon's throat growling for pleasure. A jolt was running through Simon's body when he felt a little knot in the tight tunnel and stroked over it.

Finally Ben lost the feeling for time. He couldn't control his own desires, his cock and balls were heavy with lust, Simon's moaning filled the room, his ears, his very being, he felt Simon's hand tugging at his hair, falling over his eyes, stroking it back, whispering "fuck me, Ben . . . now."

Ben crawled between his legs and lined up his cock with Simon's hole.

"Slowly, baby," he said.

Ben nodded and pushed a bit. The tip sank in and felt resistance. But Simon's face was relaxed so he went further, breaking the barrier.

"Oh God," escaped Ben, "Oh God!" as he slid further, deeper, deeper... he lost control, something disengaged in his mind - he pulled back and shoved in again, tight, moist, warm, wet, hot until he sensed Simon's fingers dug into his underarms, yelling at him. Ben opened his eyes; a drop of sweat had built up at the tip of his nose, ready to fall.

"Ben! Slow down!"

Ben blinked several times and focused his gaze onto Simon's flushed face.

"Slow down, please," he panted. Ben immediately stopped his frantic movements.

"You know I really appreciate your wildness but would prefer if you would calm down a bit." He reached out his arms, hugged Ben's neck and pulled him to his lips.

"I'm sorry baby," Ben was embarrassed. "Did I hurt you?" Simon smiled. "No." He kissed his lips. "Just slowly, honey. Slowly. Shush, don't want you to split the condom." Ben's body shivered and he didn't dare to move again. Simon stroked his back and wiped a tear away from his cheek. "Go on," he whispered.

Ben moved cautiously and felt suddenly happy to hear Simon's moaning again, his erect cock pressed between their bodies and now slowly he sped up his movements again, enjoying the warm feeling, the increasing of pleasure, Simon's face beneath him, its blissful expression until his anus twitched again and sent Ben over the point of no return.

Simon drenched them both with his hot semen until Ben lay upon his body panting, content, spent, whole. But instantly he looked into Simon's face again to find him smiling, his dark curls a bit damp from sweat. He kissed him wildly on his lips, murmuring excuses. "It's all right Ben, honey. Stop it." He stroked over the skin on his back. "That was amazing," he whispered.

"I'm really sorry. I don't know what came over me . . . are you ok?”

"Shsh, I'm fine.”

Ben cuddled close into his arms and felt his cock shrinking. He rose again, held the rim of the condom and pulled out slowly. Then he carried it into the bathroom and came back with a warm washcloth and cleaned Simon.

Simon smiled and pulled him back into his arms. "Stay here with me, will you?"

"You don't have to ask."

One long kiss and Simon was so sleepy that he couldn't keep his eyes open. Ben's fingers caressing his body was the last thing he felt before he was sound asleep.

"Oliver spent more and more time in gambling dens. He said his dream was to play in Las Vegas. He had every reason to love playing because he usually won more than he invested; together with his checks from the magazines, he could live a relatively carefree life. We took a room in the most expensive hotel in town, the re- opened "Adlon", famous for its famous guests which included statesmen from foreign countries, Rockefeller, Einstein and Sauerbruch, actors like Marlene Dietrich and Charlie Chaplin . . . we served ourselves with champagne and lobster, truffles and caviar but we both didn't like it. "A kingdom for a hamburger!" Oliver had yelled and we laughed until tears were running down our cheeks. Oh yes, he could make me forget my disease.

And those nights with him were most satisfying. He taught me things not even Marcus knew. Hell, he was 19 and a professional in sex. But . . . I had the feeling he especially didn't mean me, he just performed as he always did. The life of an actor he was used to, posing in front of cameras, perfectly illuminated, his toothpaste-smile bewitching, the gracious body stretched out in positions I would have a backache for months.

But, Ben, I didn't give a toss about it. He was with me. He loved me because I was with him and I didn't want more. I was in love with his personality and didn't ask why he was acting like he did and what his mask hid."

Simon opened his eyes and looked into Ben's sleeping face. The long black hair cascaded like a silky waterfall along his shoulders and the milk white skin of his back. Snow White - he thought once more. Black and white and red - and hazelnut eyes. Simon smiled. Ben's arm and hand lay close to him and Simon examined them. Ben also had the long, slender fingers of an artist: Marcus, Nick, Frank and Ben. And the memory of their caress gave him goose bumps.

He tried to remember the last time he had woken up with such a contented feeling and found it was only the mornings he had shared with Marcus. He sensed it all too clearly; nobody had ever compared to him. Not even Oliver. Should Marcus remain as he was - scatty, a bit selfish and hard - he had always been generous and caring and a great lover for him, devoted and passionate. But now - this last night - he had regained some of the tenderness he had missed for a long, long time. He wasn't quite sure if he should enjoy this or not, a little piece of the solid wall he had built around his heart, soul, and passion had begun to crumble and Simon didn't know if this would be good for him. There once was a time when he had been vulnerable like Ben or Nick, but it was a long time ago. He would never forget that moment as he had realized that he couldn't go on like he had been doing. Marcus had tossed him out of the house - still a sharp wound in his soul, hardly yet scarred.

Images of his parents flooded through his mind, the demanding father, disappointed that he was never interested in a career in his factory. Never interested in learning more, becoming a successful manager or lawyer or surgeon or . . . The subservient mother, hanging on the words of her husband, always careful to please his father and forget about their sons.

No, he hadn’t been able to return to his parental home after Marcus had thrown him out. He couldn't stand the reproachful, cool glances. He was gay! He hadn’t learned anything! Well, he hadn’t even been able to hold on to a relationship. He was a complete failure right down the line.

It had been that certain point when he had returned from Hamburg, Jo and all the shit that happened there. He stood upon Berlin's streets again, unable to use his credit card because he hadn't paid the bill and he hadnít wanted his parents or Marcus to be able to trace him. He had counted the money he carried in his wallet. It hadnít been much. He had never had to care about money because there had always been plenty of that. Why hadn't he ever asked his brother for help? He couldn't remember. Pride? Simon chuckled involuntarily. Pride. That acquired arrogance of the common, poor man.

Then he had met Oliver. He had been embarrassed that Oliver paid most of his bills. Simon counted in his mind - how long had they been together? Five months? Just five months? How could everything pass with such enormous speed? He had known that Oliver was taking drugs but neither he nor Simon had known that Oliver had a weak heart, which coped with the abuse very badly. But he didn't want to think about that now: all the other men who had come after Oliver's death. The smell of their sweat from over excitement, greedy fingers pawing his young body. Small lips drooling with spittle, the smell coming from scruffy teeth. Simon cautiously stroked Ben's long fingers and pushed back the hair from his forehead. Ben smiled a bit and took a deep breath. The night with Ben had been different and Simon knew for sure that he had lost a little piece of his heart - a thing he actually wanted to avoid so desperately. Still he could feel Ben's cock caressing him inside, although a bit wild but most pleasurable. But there wasn't a future for them, Simon thought. He couldn't allow this. Ben was much too good for him. The telephone rang in the living room and Simon released Ben from his arms. His head was pounding from the alcohol and smoke. Dazed, he picked up the receiver.

"Simon? It's Rene. Sorry I couldn't make it yesterday. Didn't feel too well. How was it?"

Simon ruffled his hair and wiped over his eyes. "Fine, dear. We had a lot of fun, too bad you were not there."

He heard nothing at the other end of the line. Then Rene said hesitantly - "Don't know if the other would have appreciated my presence. You know I have never met Marcus . . ."

Simon remembered briefly Kay's words that Marcus wouldn't be pleased to see Rene, but decided to keep it friendly. "Ah, come on, don't throw yourself into emptiness. I'm sure nobody would have minded. Are you better today?" "Yes," Rene answered. "What if you come here and we have breakfast together? Ben is here." Simon said.

"Ben? He spent the night with you?" Rene's voice was now livelier.

"Indeed."

"Great Simon, I thought you would resist him for the rest of your life." He interrupted himself and his voice sounded sad again, "Bad joke."

Simon felt two arms wrapping around his body, naked skin next to his and a warm breath at his ear. He smiled, "Ok, I give you one hour, Rene." He hung up and turned in Ben's arms. "Hi, lovely, slept well?"

Ben nodded, "I'm sorry for last night."

"Why do you always apologize?" He watched Ben's long hair flooding over his shoulders. "You're looking marvellous. Up for a hot shower?" Ben followed him.

Ben watched Rene across the table; his light honey coloured hair, which was turned back a bit at his forehead, the eyes blue and large. He looked a bit pale, the skin somewhat translucent and his sweatshirt hung a bit loosely around the waist and shoulders. Simon had told him the story of himself and Rene and he was eager to learn more about him. He listened to the chattering which left him out of the conversation, but he didn't mind. All that he knew was that Rene's HIV-infection had turned into AIDS some months ago. He inspected him intently.

"How's your sister?" he heard Simon asking.

"Fine. Although I feel guilty that she spends so much time with me. She hasn't a life of her own anymore."

"She lives with you?" Ben asked.

"Yes. She makes certain that I take my pills at the right time... for instance."

Ben had the feeling that there was something more.

"She is busy. Brewing me tea when I have the shits for hours again," Rene continued. "Such stuff." He grinned and around his eyes appeared tiny wrinkles, dry as crumpled parchment. Briefly Ben imagined Simon becoming prematurely older, the traces of the disease all over his face and body. He had read about the nasty side effects of the medication, a virus that could affect the intestines and the joints, which could lead to cancer... Karposi, which caused big red spots all over the skin. Would he still love him then? Simon sensed his gaze and looked questioning. Ben smiled at him. Yes, he was sure he would.

When Simon vanished briefly in the bathroom, Rene turned to Ben and gave him a very speculative look. "Are you in love with him?" he asked. Ben's ears reddened. "What's this question all about?"

Rene leaned closer. "Don't get me wrong, Ben. I just know what I'm saying. It's a bad situation and it will get worse. I just want you to be prepared for it."

"I am prepared."

"Are you?" Rene shook his head briefly. "What will you do when Simon feels nasty, when he doesn't want you to be around. When all he wants is to sleep, to puke into the toilet, refuse to eat? It's too painful, boy. You're so young, don't waste your life."

Ben looked at him suspiciously. 'Puking into the toilet' he had certainly experienced lately. "What would you do without your sister, huh? She's there for you. Like I'll be there for Simon."

Rene gazed at him with an indefinite look, then he nodded slowly. "Do what you have to do."

For a moment a depressing silence hung in the room. Ben burned to ask why Rene was so stupid to fuck around with Simon without protection. In these times it was too dangerous and Ben was getting angry. He was convinced that it was Rene who was responsible for Simon's infection and he couldn't quite understand why Simon was so friendly with him. The silence grew alarming until Simon returned. "All ok with you?" Ben asked, concerned.

"Of course. Why?"

After Rene was gone they washed the plates and mugs and went back into the small bedroom. Simon was still tired and his headache had subsided only a bit. "Did you take your pills?" Ben asked. "Shall I bring them to you?"

"Yes, I had forgotten. You know I hate to take them. Always makes me sick."

"You're sure the reason are the tablets? You have to take them. Better to feel a bit sick, than ...."

"Than?"

Ben didn't answer but went to the bathroom. "Which ones?" he shouted.

"The big dark glass standing on the shelf."

Ben watched how Simon swallowed the big oval pill, then his gaze got stuck on a painting hanging above the bed. Last night he had noticed it but now he could have a closer look. It was Simon, standing naked in front of what looked like a Roman bath, pressing a towel in front of his body. Only the round cheeks of his butt peeked out. He smiled impishly at the painter and in his cheeks were two deep dimples.

Simon noticed his gaze and smiled. "It's the one Marcus made of me. He sent it over after we met again." He sighed a bit. "Apparently he didn't want to see it anymore because our story is finished once and for all time."

Ben sat on the unmade bed. "Are you sad about it?" The pain tugged again at his heart.

"No, honey. It's over." Simon sat beside him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. His hand played with Ben's ponytail. "It's over," he repeated. "It did hurt for a long time but now..." He kissed Ben's ear. "Shall I comb your hair?"

Ben looked amazed and then snorted with laughter. "Comb my hair? Funny idea. Go ahead.î

"Have to buy a brush, honey. But the comb here will do, I guess."

While the prongs crossed the black, full hair Ben asked, "When did he paint it?"

"Oh I saw the portrait he made of Sebastian and wished he would paint me too."

"I see. Nick told me about it. He said Marcus sent Sebastian's portrait to Rome. Is this a good sign?"

"Sure it is. He wants Nick for himself. Or would you like to wake up every morning staring into the face of my former lover?"

"Like Rene?"

"For instance."

Ben leaned his head back a bit more and enjoyed the caressing of the combing. "How many lovers did you have?"

"Lovers or fucks?"

"Ouch. Let's say forget about your fucks. I mean lovers."

"One. Marcus." He bent over to Ben's ear. "And you?"

"One. You."

"So? I thought you did this before?"

"I did, but only one time. I wouldn't call it love."

"I see. Can I ask you a question?"

Ben nodded.

"How did you get this name - Benedikt?"

Ben grinned. "Isn't it a nice name?"

"It's more of a monk's name. But yes, I like it."

"You know my parents were very religious. My brother's name is Elias and my sister's Veronika."

Simon stopped combing the hair. It already glistened like raven's wings. "WERE religious?"

"Well, my father went away long time ago and mother..." He shrugged his shoulders. "Lost it somewhere among the sick people. Perhaps she saw too many of them dying and lost her faith in God - or something."

"We all have to die someday." Simon answered.

"Quite true."

"And you? Do you believe in God?"

"Well, I attended a catholic kindergarten, sang pious songs and went to church every Sunday, but that's all. Nothing that stuck."

"You sang all the songs, heard all the tales and nothing stuck?" Simon asked incredulously.

"It's the truth. I always had a brain of my own and I couldn't believe the odd tales they were telling. Heaven is empty and we're alone on earth. There's nobody watching over us. No angel contemplates our fates - to speak like Robbie Williams," he added. Simon grinned. "I understand. The church means nothing to me. In fact, what can it mean to faggots like us?"

"Oh, Simon, did you ever hear about the Song of Solomon? Love is everything, no matter to which gender. Love has many faces."

Simon finally stopped his combing and wrapped his arms around Ben's neck. "You're very bright, dear. Never thought about that. And this is in the Holy Bible?"

"Sure."

"So how did your parents react when you told them that you're gay? I mean from the catholic point of view?"

"Father doesn't know because I haven’t seen him for nine years. My mother is accepting but not understanding."

"Well, it isn't so bad then. Acceptance is the best thing we can get, Ben. She doesn't have to understand it as long as she loves you. Does she?"

"Think so."

"You didn't see your father for nine years? He left his family alone?"

"Yes. Married a younger woman."

"Ah, same old story. Well, my parents live on Sylt. Have a big house there."

"Sylt? That little island in the North Sea? The meeting place of the rich and beautiful ones?" Ben snorted.

"Yeah!" Simon laughed. "It's so boring there that they have to celebrate with a party every day! No, seriously. My father sold his firm and they live now from the money, it's probably enough to live two life times."

"You never told me about your parents. In fact I don't know much about you." Ben said.

"Don't know what's so interesting in my life."

"At least you must have met a lot of different people."

"Different men you mean."

"Yeah, lots of men. Don't get me wrong Simon. You know I don't condemn you for what you did." He hesitated a moment. "Or do still. I won't say: Stop it because I want to have you for my own, although that's my biggest wish. But you must figure it out for yourself. What is more important for you now? To have me or to have money?"

"And if I would choose both, you AND money?" Simon asked.

Ben laughed a bit. "You can have both. Go and look for a job. You know I don't have money either."

"Hm, want to come with me?"

Ben turned indignantly. But then he saw the funny sparkle in Simon's dark eyes and knew he made a joke. Ben grinned. "You won't give me a serious answer, right?" Simon sat beside Ben.

"Nope. By the way, when do YOU paint me?"

Ben laughed loudly. "One portrait isn't enough?"

"No! I loved to undress in front of Marcus. It was an exciting feeling, his eyes all over my body for hours. I had a constant erection!"

"Really?" Ben's eyes turned to the painting. "Nothing to see of that."

"Of course not. What do you think the towel hides?" Both laughed.

"And what did Marcus do then? When it was finished?" "Shall I show you?" Simon grinned and began to kiss Ben's lips. "Did I tell you I liked our night together?"

"Tell me again, honey," Ben whispered.