Made in Heaven - 3. I wanna contact the living

Tim woke up alone. His searching hand found the empty pillow, still warm. He knew Philipp was still there when he heard the toilet flush. He pulled the pillow tightly to his chest and breathed Philipp's scent. Opening his eyes he saw his white downy wings lying in the corner of his bedroom, next to it his silver pants, and the slippers Philipp had found back in the night-club. The few clothes Philipp had worn were strewn about.

It was an odd feeling to wake up with a stranger, Tim thought, although he sensed Philipp wasn't a stranger anymore, not after last night. His scent had become familiar, his very own taste, the special movements in the early hours, shortly before dawn. Tim decided, he liked Philipp very much - if only there hadn't been the slight tug at his heart. He closed his eyes again.

Within the space of one week, Tim had woken up now to two strangers - more or less but he couldn't stop the pain when he thought about Maxim and what he was doing right now probably just like Tim: waking up to a stranger. Without seeing it he knew Philipp was there, next to the bed, bending down and taking the pillow from Tim's arms.

"You have me to cuddle with," he murmured into Tim's ear, lifted the bedcover and slipped next to his side. "Open your eyes", Philipp whispered. "Brown and amber, as I remember."

Tim didn't blink nor bat an eyelid. It was a long time ago that somebody had adored him. With a jolt he remembered everything, the words when Philipp had stroked Tim's legs, the boyish small hips, as he was doing again now; his erect tool, long and slender with a soft, reddish tip, moist and very inviting. It vanished into Philipp's mouth and Tim could just lie on his back, spreading his legs, ruffling Philipp's hair, groaning until he came into Philipp's mouth - he couldn't remember how many times that had happened last night.

Philipp hadn't even left him time to think about Maxim and the blond man he was with when Tim had seen him the last time and Tim was thankful.

"Where's breakfast now?" Philipp growled playfully.

"You've just had it," Tim grinned, brushing his lips and felt Philipp's erection between his own legs. "What am I going to do with that?" he asked.

"Dessert."

"All right." Tim realised that he had to go downstairs to the kitchen where his father and Tobias would probably be. He pondered whether Philipp was a one-night-stand they wouldn't really want to meet or a serious case.

Philipp looked expectantly at him. "You're cute enough to eat, you know," he said and Tim decided it was a serious case.

"Shall I come with you?"

"In your state?" Tim asked, giving Philipp's cock a stroke. "Better not. I'll manage somehow."

He crawled out of the bed, slipped into shorts and T-shirt and beamed at Philipp who had leaned back into the rumpled sheets, his red, ruffled hair a lovely contrast to the Nivea blue covers.

Tim, with his taste still on his lips, crept downstairs and peered around the corner. He heard voices in the kitchen. Shit. Then he straightened his back, ran his fingers through his hair and appeared as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He caught his father and Tobias bent together over the kitchen table, kissing.

Tim grinned cheekily and shouted, "Good Morning!"

Moritz - Tim's father - and Tobias grinned back, not the least embarrassed.

"Had a hot night?" Tim asked, moved directly to the coffee machine and got it started. "Have you left anything for me to eat?" Then he thought that Philipp would like to have scrambled eggs, so he started to rattle the pans and cracked four eggs. Tobias and Moritz looked at each other.

"What's happened to you, honey?"

"It looks as if you're starving," his father added.

Tim gave them a smile. "It's not all for me."

Moritz and Tobias shared another look, this time anxious. Tim put some toast into the toaster and poured glasses of orange juice.

"Wow, sweetie, that's a sumptuous meal," Tobias teased him. Tim turned with a spoon in hand. "Before you burst with curiosity, yes, there's somebody up in my rooms."

On Moritz' forehead was a deep wrinkle. His light brown hair was just a short brush over this head, but he looked very masculine with that - according to Tobias. His eyes had become a shade darker. "Are we going to meet him?" he asked.

"Not if he doesn't want to." Tim stirred the pan. "Dad! I'm not a little boy. I can watch out for myself."

Tobias grinned at Moritz, giving him a silent sign. "Did you meet him at Gay Pride? I thought you wanted to go with Maxim."

"We were together. But then we were parted." Tim caught the jumping toast slices and put them upon a plate. His eyes sparkled and matched very much his father's now. "I have been upon a float!" he blurted out, "it was a blast. Well Philipp was pulling me up because there was room there and all the people on the streets. Have you seen them? I thought I'd meet you somewhere, weren't you both at the victory column?"

"The eggs, honey," Tobias told him, still grinning at his lover's son's enthusiasm.

Tim put the eggs on another plate and turned off the coffee machine.

"Yes, we were at the victory column. Did you really think you'd find us among half a million people?" his father said good-humouredly. He stood up and embraced his son. He always thought of Tim as his little one, although he wasn't any shorter than he himself, but Tim had a fragility that made him always wanting to protect him. "I'd be happy to meet... Philipp?" He felt Tim squeezing his back.

Tobias handed him a tray and Tim put everything upon it. "I won't pressure him. But you'd like him, I'm sure." He nodded to both. "See you."

Philipp had examined Tim's room. The smaller bedroom and the living room next to it. He looked at a very tasteful poster of a naked man sitting upon a stool, hiding his genitals. There was a little TV and the computer. Philipp remembered he had promised to create a web site for Tim, which he would do by all means. Certainly the publisher wouldn't accept Tim's novel, unless it was outstandingly good - and even then Tim would have to wait perhaps years before the publisher would find room in their book schedule.

Every spare place of Tim's room was occupied with bookshelves though. Not the cheap ones from Ikea, but real ones with glass doors to protect them. Tim really must be fond of books, as Philipp was himself. He wondered what his novel was about.

Philipp had slipped into his black pants and was examining the shelves, turning his head to read the titles. Some of them he had too, but there were so many others he was interested in.

He heard Tim open the door to the living room with his foot and called "Could you lend me some of your books," then he saw the tray and helped him to put it upon the table. "My, you're spoiling me!" Philipp hadn't expected to get a real breakfast. He never did at Martin's. Pah! So far he hadn't spent a night with Christian's brother, just a few hours filled with fucking. Yes. Just fucking. Philipp sensed the cosiness of a home where everything was easy. "Your parents up already?"

“What do you think? It's noon!" Tim said, emptying the glass of juice. "Eat, your eggs are getting cold. And by the way, the female part of this family is taken by Tobias."

As Maxim had done, Philipp opened his eyes wide. "Your father's gay? Jesus!" He took his buttered toast and shoved some of the scrambled eggs upon it. "Does he know I'm here?"

Tim nodded.

"Do I have to meet him or them?"

"Surely not. If you don't want to."

Philipp found that he did want to meet Tim's father actually. "And ... Tobias?"

"He has been living here with us for the past five years."

Philipp examined Tim's face. The brown-amber eyes with the long, long lashes, shading the delicate skin under them. The soft flesh of his lips and his still dishevelled brown hair with the blond tips. He was a lucky guy. Not such a problem laden man like Christian with his notorious jealousy. Nor the never caring Martin. Sometimes the sex with him was better than with Christian, but probably the reason was that Martin wasn't always available and thus more interesting.

Philipp stopped his train of thoughts while he drank the coffee and finished the eggs. What did it tell him about himself? That he took his fortune wherever he could. When the nights with Christian had become boring, he fled to his twin. And if his twin wasn't giving him enough attention he spends the night with a third. He looked at Tim again, chewing happily on his toast. He had seen him and was in love. Or whatever. Philipp didn't care what it was. He just knew that Christian and he would have a big row when he returned home.

"I wonder what Christian was doing with your friend Maxim," Philipp said, having another cup of coffee.

Tim looked surprised. "Where do you know his name from? Do you know Maxim?"

"Of course. From the night club Made in Heaven. I've often been there with Christian." He sighed. "Old times." Suddenly he noticed his ring and played with it.

"Are you both engaged? Am I interfering?" Tim asked perplexed. He knew that a one night stand didn't count, but...

"Nonsense. It has nothing to do with you." Philipp grinned seductively. "You're really cute, angel." He leaned forward and started again his mind-blowing kisses. Tim asked himself where he had learned them from. Natural talent probably. He enjoyed the kisses and relaxed. He had a full stomach and the urge to drag Philipp into bed was with him again. "Do you have to go, or are you staying?" he whispered. "And you promised me something."

"Your web site, sure." Philipp kissed him behind the ear. "I'd like to stay, really. But I have to sort out things." Philipp followed Tim into his bedroom though and felt himself thrown upon the mattress. Tim wanted to hold him as long as possible, before he would return into the arms of his partner. He started to shower his body with kisses. "Will we meet again?" he asked indistinctly, his head buried into Philipp's reddish brown pubic hair.

Philipp was determined to give him the number of his mobile. It was impossible that Tim could call at Christian's flat. "Remind me to give you my number," Philipp muttered, then his head sunk back into the pillows and he moaned. Happily.

Tim lay spread eagle upon his bed and disillusionment set in. Suddenly he found he was suffering a severe hangover. Philipp had gone without seeing his parents. Tim had loaned him some books and clothes for he didn't want to walk almost naked through the town.

Had it been worth it? Would Maxim say that he behaved like a slut? He certainly would ask how he had spent the rest of the day, and Tim couldn't lie. And why should he? Surely Maxim had had a go with the blond man too, and anyway! Tim wasn't answerable to anybody. But after Maxim's invitation to spend the CSD together, Tim had been hopeful, and then everything had gone apart. All of a sudden Philipp had lost his attraction. He had said he had to sort out things. Finish the relationship with Christian? And what then? Was Philipp a compensation for Maxim? Red hair instead of dark, blue eyes for black ones? An indefinable aura of sadness for unbridled fun?

Tim turned on his side and clutched the pillow. It still carried Philipp's scent. A moment longer he sniffed, then threw it aside. Instead, he went to the desk, pulled out a notebook and started to write. Philipp had asked him about the novel he was writing and Tim had said it was a love story.

"With a Happy End?" Philipp had asked with excitement in his voice.

"None of the real big love stories have a Happy End," Tim had answered and Philipp had been silent. Then he had to agree.

"So, you're not writing about faithfulness, true love and happiness?"

No, Tim didn't. What he had read about never-ending love, was a lie. Something was broken deep down inside him since the first real love affair he had had was over, because he didn't fit anymore into Jan's ideal of beauty. "Cute enough to eat," Philipp had said. Huh! Was that all? Even Maxim looked for the perfect body.

A knock, almost silently at his door. "Come on in." Tim said, laying his notebook aside he had taken with him to the bed. Moritz appeared in the door frame.

"You're alone?" He cleared his throat. "I've seen Philipp leaving the house. I thought you'd spend Sunday together?" He sat upon Tim's bed and let his eyes wander. Then they rested upon his son. "You don't look too happy. Won't you be seeing him again?"

"Yes." Tim's voice was small.

"Then, what's the problem?"

Without hesitation Tim rose, embraced his father and started to cry. Moritz was confused, but held him without a word, rocking him as he had since he had been a baby. He feared the worst but was patient enough to wait until Tim could spill it out.

"I'm so unhappy," Tim whispered.

"Post coitum animal triste," Moritz whispered back, stroking Tim's hair. "You were so enthusiastic a few hours ago. What happened in between?"

Tim sniffed. "Nothing actually. We'll meet again, he has my books, my clothes and promised to do a web site for me." Tim looked at his father and Moritz wiped away a tear from under Tim's eyes. He didn't understand at all. Then he had an idea. "Has it to do with Maxim?" He saw Tim's eyes filled with tears again.

"Have you quarrelled?"

"Not at all. I just feel bad. I don't know what he will think about me now."

Moritz still didn't understand. "Honey, you must tell me the real reason, or I can't help you."

"What did you do when you realised you were in love with Tobias? How long did you need before you could tell him. And how did you do it? Did you invite him?"

Moritz loosened himself gently from his son's body. "So that's what all this is about, yes? You're in love with Maxim and don't know how to tell him and then you've found compensation in Philipp. And you're afraid you can't get rid of him anymore if Maxim should want you."

Tim looked surprised at his father. He was quick in comprehending. "But so far Maxim isn't interested in you, right? Although you've spent a night with him." He looked sharply at his son. "Was there more than you told me? I mean you said you hadn't had sex."

"We hadn't. Well. Almost. The morning after. But I stopped him. Was that stupid?"

Moritz smiled. "In no way stupid." He stroked Tim's face. He wondered what game this Maxim was playing with his son. Playing with feelings was a dangerous game. You sow wind and earn storm. "Has he told you he doesn't fancy you?"

"He says he likes me. Nothing more."

Moritz sighed. "You can't force love. Have you told him you've a crush on him?"

"Not just a crush," Tim protested. "But he's in love with somebody else."

"Oh yes? How do you know?"

"He said so." Tim's body went rigid. If Philipp knew Maxim, Maxim surely knew Christian too. It was him, Maxim was in love with. Oh gosh. He stood no chance against that bright-eyed blond stud.

Moritz wiped a strand from Tim's forehead. "So it wasn't too bad to spend a night with Philipp, although..." he looked deeply into Tim's eyes, "I'm not very happy about it" Oh well, he sounded like his grandpa he thought then. He remembered yesterday's excitement; it had been impossible not to fall for all those men and to go home and to sleep alone like a monk. Tobias had made all this too clear last night. He thought about Tim's question. What had he done when he had fallen in love with Tobias? It has been incomparably harder for him, for he had been married and had repressed for so many years his true inclinations. Wasted time. Although it had given him his most precious thing in the world: his son.

"All the guys just want to jump into bed," Tim complained. "Show me one who wants more."

"I'm looking into his eyes right now," Moritz smiled. "Wait a little and you'll find him." Empty prattle, Moritz thought. Good to soothe a child. But it might be right nonetheless. If it wasn't Maxim, it might be Philipp, although he had proved the opposite already. Perhaps a completely different man. Tim was so young and his heartache pained him. As it had done so many times before. Tim seemed always to be love sick, always falling for the wrong man. And the latest of them had almost been too much. Tim had drastically lost weight, although he never had been chubby or tended to be fat. Moritz didn't know who had put this idea into Tim's head. Hell, he knew who it was! Jan, the heart breaker number one.

"What web site does Philipp want to create for you? Moritz suddenly asked.

"Well, I could upload my story there."

"Ah! I was thinking about naughty pictures of you."

Tim had to laugh. Suddenly he saw Tobias peering through the door, undecided as to whether to enter or not. Tim had always adored him. Nobody would think him almost forty. Tim smiled at him.

"Sweethearts, what do you think about a picnic? The weather hasn't been so fine for a long time."

Good old Tobias, Moritz thought. Always the right word at the right time. He pulled his son with him, downstairs, giving Tobias a kiss.

* * * * * *

Christian had been so nervous that he had already finished half a pack of cigarettes. He never smoked, except when he was drinking or was overly nervous. Philipp hadn't come home and he knew what that meant. Probably Philipp had never been worthy to receive his love. Jealously he had always watched his steps, probably sometimes over reacting, seeing ghosts when there weren't any.

White smoke poured from Christian's mouth out of the open window looking at the red bricks of the Kollhoff sky scraper. The first thing Philipp had wanted to do was to use Europe's quickest elevator up to the view point, and both had felt so small and insignificant facing the stony desert that was Berlin, sprinkled with green patches. Now their love had become insignificant too. After four years. Wasn't it so? Perhaps it had reached deadlock.

Christian now went restlessly from one room to the other which wasn't a problem for there weren't any doors. He stopped in front of the fireside - a large white monster with extensive fittings that provided space enough for knickknacks and leather covered books. Christian had been stingy with the furniture because the rooms lived from the style and the light flooding through the large window panes, looking over part of the Sony Centre and part had a free view over half of Berlin. Upon the rooftop he had a private terrace with a little swimming pool, but it was mostly used by Philipp.

He looked at the watch. It was late afternoon already. Finally he decided to get busy with his models and sorting out the materials he wanted to use for this. He had to get ready for the congress held in Paris. New customers were what he needed.

With a whisky glass in his hand he reached the kitchen - the most unused place - and searched for ice in the deep freezer. All that he found was a soft plastic ice cube maker and squeezed the cubes out. Little penis shaped things fell upon the marble working plate. Philipp's funny crap, he thought almost affectionately; he constantly came home with things that were useless, but somewhat varied. He bought them in the sex shop attached to the hotel he worked in. Or he got them from one of his lovers.

Though perhaps it wasn't deadlock. Not from his side. Despite Philipp's assuming Christian had as many lovers in his life as there were pebbles in a stream, it was not true. He needed a man he could form. Form after Christian's imaginations of how a lover should work. Philipp had never complained. Well, he had been very young when Christian had picked him up one day at a bar.

He grinned now, touched the ice penis and put them into his whisky. He sipped at the drink while he picked up his walk through the apartment again. Philipp had been a mixture of an introverted student and exuberant callboy. Four years and all that was left now was the exuberant boy. Christian didn't dare to think "callboy," for it referred to the fact that what he was doing at night in his hotel before Christian had forbidden him to work at nights. Again Philipp had obeyed like a well-trained dog, but the wall between both was climbing higher with each day they were together.

Christian filled his glass again. He would slowly get drunk, he decided. And to hell with Philipp. He took a large gulp. Philipp was a bloody slut. Nothing more. Although... Christian never had a proof that Philipp was unfaithful, nor that he did other things at the hotel other than to greet new guests.

But just lately he had decided to follow his own mind. Just like Gregor had... Gregor had slipped between his fingers like a fish, had withdrawn from Christian's control more and more, always denying his many affairs, but Christian had noticed them: the stares, the looks with which Gregor was undressing other men.

Christian knew why he had resisted so long going to the Gay Pride March, and now the impossible had happened. What if he should lose Philipp? It was easy to replace him - sure - but did he want that? With the piano player for instance? Christian had easily sensed that Maxim would gladly say yes to him. He finished his second glass and put more penis ice into the glass, pouring whisky over it.

His stomach burned like fire. Like soft boiling hate cooking on a low fire, warm enough to keep it simmering under the surface. He didn't want to lose Philipp. Why should he? He had everything to offer, money, trips and his unblemished being. Both in appearance and brain. He just wanted attention in exchange. Full and exclusive attention.

The whisky ran down his throat like liquid gold. He couldn't throw overboard four years. Philipp had been nineteen when he had found him. Too young to be a real partner. Young enough to be trained.

He stared into the glass. Gregor had grown up finally and wanted his own life. No influence from Christian's side, no spying around, no control of what he had to like or dislike.

Maxim's dark glowing, almond eyes appeared at the bottom of the glass. They seemed to know enough not to fall into a fatal attraction. Pah! Christian jerked his head up and started to laugh. What a fatal attraction? He had so much to give. Love, affection, everything there was to give. And the price for all this couldn't be that high.

Now he stood in his workroom. His eyes wandered over easels pinned with architectural unfinished paper sheets. Tools for drawing, rulers, pens and pencils, paper rolls. Designs on the walls. Stone material, bathroom tiles and snippets from carpets of all fabrics and colours. In the corner was an open book. He stepped closer.

"Though they go mad they shall be sane,

Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;

Though lovers be lost love shall not....."

Christian read and closed the book with a bang as if he had burned his fingers touching the letters. Dylan Thomas, the drunk Welsh poet. His favourite.

"Love shall not... be lost" Christian repeated loudly. No. It didn't matter to whom he gave his love as long as there was love. Was this the message? And death shall have no dominion? Never ever? Love survived death. Love was stronger than death. But hate had the power to kill love.

His head turned. Quickly he went to the living room. The lift's door silently slid apart and Philipp appeared. He saw his red hair, dishevelled and uncombed. Foreign clothes on his body. A bag nonchalantly hung over his shoulder. Courage in his mulberry eyes. He stepped into his apartment as if this would all be his own and with a certain definiteness that made Christian unsure.

"Where do you have these clothes from?" he asked sharply. "Or shall I ask: to whom do they belong?" He finished his glass of whisky and placed it carefully upon a table. His movements were very correct and a little slow.

Philipp knew then Christian had drunken more than he should. His bright eyes glistened dangerously.

"Belonging to the little angel," Philipp said as calm as he could. "Why do you ask, you know the answer already."

Christian's eyes had become pure ice. "Was he good?"

"Good in what?" Philipp stepped closer and took Christian's arm. "Stop this interrogation. I'm not your private possession. I can do what I like." It should sound calm but his voice was a trace higher than usual. He smelled whisky streaming from Christian's lips. Suddenly they were close. He felt his lips being squashed, teeth crashed painfully with his own and Christian's tongue examined his tonsils. He pushed him aside, panting and wiping his mouth.

"I hate whisky", he said. Christian grinned and swayed upon his tiptoes. "You have to learn to like it, that's all." Suddenly his grin was wiped from his face. "So it was little angel." He nodded. "I assume you fucked his brains out." He raised his brows. The pupils of his eyes were just tiny little pinheads.

Philipp shook his head. Fucking without condom was out of the question. And he found that it doesn't always have to be a fuck. A suck and cuddle can be more satisfying. Strange that Christian mentioned it. After all Philipp had learned from Christian exactly this. Tenderness, loving affection. The control of his orgasm to make sex better, Philipp remembered oddly, as if this would be necessary and important right now. He had gotten everything from him, money, presents. All this Christian had given and taught him. And this had been worth to suffer a little of his jealousy. "I'm sorry," he said and meant it. "I didn't want to leave you standing there."

Christian glared at him but said nothing.

"You were just getting on my nerves with your behaviour of a very adult you know." Philipp approached his lover. "Just a little fun. You surely won't keep me from having a little fun. " His voice was fondling. Christian reached out a hand and stroked Philipp's face. His skin was soft and he was so vulnerable.

Philipp almost gave in. But then Christian's stroking hand changed. Philipp's head flung aside and he instinctively held his palm over the place where Christian had hit him.

"Little fun?" Christian sneered. He stepped closer. "Little fun?" Brutally he tore Tim's sweatshirt until the front hung open; the zipper of Tim's jeans was down in a second and Christian tugged them over Philipp's hips. "You want a little fun?" Christian was shouting now. He stared at Philipp's naked abdomen, ready to use his body without mercy.

Philipp was frozen in his movements, then he stumbled aside, caught himself and punched Christian in the stomach. Hard enough to make him gasp for air, bending his upper body and pressing his hands upon the place. Philipp gasped too, pulled up the jeans and rushed into the bedroom. With trembling fingers he opened drawers and wardrobes, threw his clothes upon the bed and pulled a suitcase from under it. Tears were streaming now over his cheeks. He never had thought that Christian would hit him. Or worse.

"What are you doing?" Christian's breath was laboured. Philipp used to like this sound. Laboured and out of breath from making love. He looked up. "What do you think it looks like." His voice trembled too. "I've had enough." He pulled Tim's torn sweatshirt over his head and stuffed it into the suitcase, stormed the bathroom, came back and closed the lid with a bang. Then he stood upright and his voice wasn't trembling anymore.

"Nobody hits me. You hear me? Nobody hits me!"

"I'm so sorry" was all Christian could say. His domination had shrivelled to a wailing. What had he done? Philipp couldn't go.

"Don't go."

"I'm going."

"Then come back."

Philipp laughed. "Don't wait for me." It hurt. It hurt like hell. How could he leave behind four years of living together? He had always loved Christian. Or what he thought love to be. In the end it had just been dependence. Philipp had been dependent upon what Christian was willing to give. Here a piece of sex, there a piece of understanding. Mixed together with a piece of money and held by a golden chain strangling his neck.

"Where are you going? To your parents?" Christian stared at him. The ice in his eyes had melted away. Philipp held the stare until Christian broke it.

"What do you think I'm working at a hotel for?"

When Philipp had gone Christian went to the toilet and vomited into the sink. He had enough of the whisky. At least Philipp hadn't given him back his ring. Was that hope of had he just forgotten it?

He had hit Philipp. How could it be that he had himself under control for four years and now everything returned? There was a pattern in his actions that repeated itself.

Christian supported his hands on the sink, before he lifted his head and looked at himself in the mirror. His psychiatrist had said he was healed. Christian had realized that jealousy was an illness. And the cause of the illness was a weak character. Deep inside he thought himself inferior; always afraid that his love would leave him.

Yes, Christian understood the dry and cold analysis of his problem. But he hadn't comprehended it. He couldn't change his behaviour, not really. He could try to keep himself under control, nothing more. And now he had hit a lover again.

Four years. What had he done wrong?

* * * * * *

Maxim had decided not to tell Nadine nor Tim about his failed encounter. He didn't need their laughter. But he was curious to learn what Tim would have to say.

Maxim had buried himself in the office to check the incoming emails and book orders. Actually it was Tim's job but Maxim had been early at the bookshop. He had slept badly and neither Coco's closeness nor Joost's invitation to the rehearsals of his new program could cheer him up. He had refused to go to the variety theatre, and only received the tickets for the premiere instead. Neither Joost nor Rainer had been able to give him good advice on what to do about Christian. At least Maxim didn't think so. Rainer had just pulled a face and said that he should forget Christian. He seemed much too complicated to be happy. Maxim had answered that he liked complicated men but Rainer had shook his head. "In the long run much too exhausting, honey." But Maxim didn't mind exhaustion and a relationship with a complicated man who promised variation. It would be well worth it.

He printed out the orders and started the program to see what they had in stock and what they needed to order from the publishers. He was getting very absorbed, so he didn't notice Tim's coming in until he flopped upon a chair next to him. Maxim looked up. Tim's nose was a little burnt but he looked great otherwise. Except the shaded eyes. Instantly Maxim stopped working and asked enthusiastically "Now, what's up? How was it upon the truck?"

"Tell me rather how it was with Philipp's boyfriend," Tim answered. Maxim's eyes dropped to the ground. "Well, we have been to our bar. That's all."

"That's all?" Tim stood up and started the coffee machine. "What do you mean that's all? Have you or have you not?" Tim had decided to start an attack, so that his own failure wouldn't be that big. He had thought that Maxim had spent a hot night with the blond. Looking at Maxim, Tim was sure he hadn't. So much the better.

"You haven't thought I'd jump into bed with him the first night?" Maxim asked defiant. "What kind of slut do you think I am?"

"Oh," Tim looked away and watched the coffee gargling through the machine. "I didn't know it's a crime to be horny."

Maxim sighed. "Sorry. You're right. I'm just disappointed. And what about you? Hope you were horny as hell." He started to grin and winked at Tim. Tim snorted, suddenly light-hearted. Maxim didn't take it as a personal insult Tim had been lucky over the weekend. "Well, I've lent Philipp some clothes because he didn't want to go half naked. And I have his phone number."

"Ah!" was all Maxim could manage. "So you've taken him home with you?"

Tim nodded.

"Lucky you. Christian didn't want me."

Tim filled two cups with coffee and added milk and sugar for Maxim. "You won't meet again?"

Maxim shrugged. "He did ask when I'll be at work again."

Tim sat beside him again. Very close. "Do you think we have interrupted their relationship? You know Christian, right? From Made in Heaven. Is it him you're in love with all the time?"

Maxim looked into Tim's knowing eyes. They gave the impression of Coco's stare, mysteriously and omniscient. There was no point in denying it so Maxim nodded. "For a long time." He drank his coffee. "You know, I've watched them for so long going to the club and wished that Christian would be mine, but there was no chance for me. He only had eyes for Philipp. But now you stepped into Philipp's life." He looked into Tim's eyes. "Have you fallen in love?"

"That's a clever plan of yours. I shall pave the way for you and Christian, right?" Tim shook his head. "I don't know about that. I don't know if I like this game," he said suddenly reserved and took the sheets of paper from the printer. "Let me finish this here." He looked at his watch. "You should open the shop now."

Maxim looked oddly at him. Tim didn't seem so gentle today as he usually was. So he took his briefcase and pulled out the tickets for Joost's performance. He waved them under Tim's nose. "Up to go with me to the variety theatre?" Tim stared at the tickets. “Bar jeder Vernunft” he read. He had never made it to this well-known bar, famous for the more eccentric audience and performances.[2)]

"It's my neighbour, you know, the one from the Rosenstolz-truck."

"Really?" Tim's mood improved. "I'm invited?" The premiere was next Thursday he read and he asked himself why Maxim didn't want to go with Christian. But, instead of asking, he took his ticket.

"Thanks. I hadn't expected you'd think of me." He gave him a curious look.

It was the last time Maxim saw him for the entire morning, although there wasn't much to do today. Probably all the guys and girls were suffering from a hangover after a long weekend. Even Nadine had a day off today. He wondered if he should visit her in the evening to discuss the events. He was sure that she would have some wise words for him. But then he heard a familiar voice. He turned and peeped behind a bookshelf corner. His heart pounded suddenly in his throat. It was Christian. Maxim had never thought he would keep his promise. He talked to Tim who was standing a little awkward, as if he would expect a rundown from the older man. And when Maxim thought it over, Tim had all reasons to expect one.

Their voice sounded up to him, Christian's surprisingly dripping with honey. "Nice to lend him some clothes. Just remind him to bring them back, he's such a slut." Christian smiled at Tim.

So what did this mean? Christian had nothing against a flirt aside? Or had they broken up? Or why should he be so friendly to the man his boyfriend had spent a night with? Maxim saw Tim relaxing and nodding. But apparently he had lost his tongue, so Maxim came to his rescue. He went around the corner and beamed.

"Hi Maxim," Christian greeted him and left Tim standing. "How are things? I thought we could spend your lunch break together. When is it?"

Maxim blinked. What was that? He had thought Christian wasn't a big talker and now he spoke three sentences in a row. He grinned from ear to ear about this thought. Tim watched him curiously, though his stare was rather cool.

"Well, usually a bit later."

"It's ok, go right now," Tim said. "Nothing much to do anyway."

Maxim rushed away to get his jacket and ignored Tim when they went out together.

"How exciting," Tim muttered. He wondered what Maxim found so interesting in the blond, tall man. Sure he was good looking, but not that overwhelming that he would forget everything for him. For Tim's taste Christian was much too smooth. He lacked the special flaws a man received his interest from. But luckily Tim didn't have to fall in love with him. He hesitated. But apparently Maxim expected Tim to fall in love with Philipp, so that the way was free. Pah!

Tim had actually a bad feeling. Why had Christian been so sweet? Actually he should have been pissed at him. What aim was Christian following? Seducing Maxim as a strike back to Philipp's betrayal? Tossing Maxim aside afterwards?

Tim saw Luan entering the bookshop, another colleague. They smiled at each other. Luan was a middle aged Vietnamese living many years in Berlin, in fact since the GDR had recruited many of them to work in factories. Luan had never returned home. Tim decided he would engage Luan in a talk about his weekend's adventures, so he wouldn't had to think what Maxim was doing right now with Christian.

Maxim thought Christian would go with him into the next bistro, but his motorbike waited outside. A metallic blue Honda, Maxim noticed excited. There was even a second helmet which he put on and swung himself behind Christian's back before he embraced his waist and didn't let lose before Christian stopped at a real restaurant near the Ku'damm, one of the most exclusive areas in town.

"I thought I had to make up for the disappointment." Christian led the way through the entrance and was placed by a waiter near the window. His diamond-eyes looked deeply into Maxim's. "You were disappointed, weren't you?"

Surely Maxim had been, but was it wise to admit it? Instead, he let his eyes roam over the room. He had been in such locations with Leon before who had been glad to show Maxim around - the Russian gawk - and to teach him a touch of real life. If Christian should have thought that he still was a little mouse that has to be taught everything, Christian was very much mistaken. But the blond man smiled completely innocent, pulled out a package of cigarettes and offered it. Maxim took one. He was much too nervous to refuse.

"What about Philipp?" Maxim gushed out before he could think. Christian gave him fire. "Well, he's gone." He leaned back and took the menu.

"Gone? What gone? For good?"

"Might be." Christian said, not looking up. "I think I'll have the fish. Swordfish, it's marvellous. Have you tried it?"

"No, but the globefish the Japanese are preparing. One wrong cut and this was your last meal."

Christian grinned. "Well, you can eat everything. Some things just one time. Weren't you afraid to eat it?"

Maxim shook his head. Christian wanted to side-track the real problem. "So, what's 'might be'?" Has he moved out of your apartment?"

"Yes. That little angel is a sweet boy," he added. "I can understand him."

Maxim stared at him. "But I don't understand. How long have you been together?"

"Four years. Do you want the swordfish?"

"No, catfish."

Christian pulled up his brows. Maxim had his own mind. Quickly he pondered if he was worth the challenge. He had never had an obstinate man to tame. Looking into Maxim's almond shaped eyes he thought: Yes. He longed to kiss his lips. But not today.

Maxim on his behalf was getting tired by those ask-and-get-no-answer-game both were playing again. "You take it pretty easily." he said.

"What do you like with the fish? Let me see." Christian again took the menu and leafed through it then he closed it, looking up. "There's nothing you should worry about. It was time to say goodbye." Christian tugged at his cigarette and blew the smoke aside.

His eyes were hidden. He gave their orders to the waiter and a bottle of white wine he had chosen himself.

"And now you think you can hook me in serving me fish, yes?" Maxim crooked his head, stubbing out his cigarette. It tasted somewhat perfumed. Christian laughed. "Stop asking so much. Why can't you simply enjoy being here with me." He said it as if it would be a great honour for Maxim, picking up the crumbs Christian was shedding.

Maxim had the certain feeling that this was a fight for domination. His eyes tried to pierce the bright ones. They mirrored the candlelight and seem to focus them into one tiny spot. Maxim could detect himself in there.

"At least it's catfish. Your wish is my command," Christian said good-humoured. "Do you think little angel is in love?"

"Little angel's name is Tim. I don't know if he's in love. Ask him." Maxim counted in his mind the money he had in his purse and decided it was enough to pay for his own meal. He didn't want to be invited a second time. "He has Philipp's phone number, so I assume both will stay in contact, that's all I know."

Christian nodded and devoted himself completely to his fish that had arrived. Then he grabbed the wine glass, and toasted to Maxim. "If I would be Humphrey Bogart I'd say 'that's the start of a wonderful friendship'," he grinned and Maxim snorted.

"Plans for tonight?" Christian asked, examining his empty plate. Maxim's heart started to whirl. "Well, nothing actually." He dismissed the idea of going to Nadine.

"No piano play? Cinema then? Or do you want to go to a club?"

To you, Maxim thought. "Actually I'd like to learn to know you better. Why not just talking? There's the Trattoria of Mamma Angela, do you know it?"

Christian shook his head, and nodded then. All right. If he wanted to talk then he should get what he wants.

Maxim decided it was time to go back to work. When he stepped from the Honda he stood at the curb, following Christian's back with his eyes as long as he could. When he stuffed his hands into his jacket's pocket he found rustling banknotes. It was exactly the same amount Maxim had paid at the restaurant for his meal. He frowned.

Tim ignored him when he started his work again. Meanwhile he had gone half way through the mail orders and Maxim helped him wordlessly until he couldn't stand it any more. "Have I done something wrong?" he asked, stopping his work, looking at Tim's bent head.

"No. Why? Philipp called. Wants to bring me the clothes and look at the site." He nodded to the computer monitor. A website appeared, tastefully all in pastel colours of beige and green and with Tim's name plastered over all the screen. Maxim bent forward. "What's this? Made in Heaven?" He looked flabbergasted at Tim. "Your novel??"

Tim looked excited and his face had lit up. "He promised to create a website for me. You know there is no assurance that my novel will be accepted by a publisher, so we thought this is a good idea. Don't you think so?"

Maxim couldn't speak. Tim had written a novel. "Let's print this out. I want to read it. Is it long?"

Tim nodded. "Well, rather long." He clicked at the icon and the printer started to hum.

"You could read here! Have you thought about it?"

Tim got red ears. "I can't. I'm getting sick at the mere thought."

Maxim laughed. "Ah come on. One schnapps and it should go like clockwork."

* * * * * *

Oddly enough Maxim thought about Tim and his novel. Despite the late hour he sat at the kitchen table, drank a glass of peppermint tea and tried to calm down. Another meeting with Christian was over and still he hadn't received an invitation to Christian's flat to do things his mind didn't dare to colour in each detail. What was the reason for it? Was Christian playing a game with him?

His fingers left moist spots upon the sheets of paper. He couldn't follow Tim's tale although he found it very sophisticated and exceptional enough. Actually it was a fairytale. A contemporary fairytale with a fairy Godmother that allowed one to have one wish. What would you wish then? Maxim asked himself. Wish for your yourself or wish for others? What if he could heal the world? Make them a peaceful refuge of coexistence and responsibility?

Maxim stared into nothing and stroked absentmindedly Coco's fur. How nice to have company that didn't need much sleep in the night and awaited him like a good companion as if he would have sensed Maxim's loneliness. It had been an informative evening where Maxim learnt everything about architecture for Christian had a diploma in it and had specialized in interior design. He certainly could improve Maxim's two rooms and the kitchen into something special. But what did he care? His life took place outside. He never had felt that his home was his castle.

Erik had been there with his newest conquest. Again he had grinned saucily at Maxim, making unmistakable signs to Christian. What must he think? Probably he would ring tomorrow at Maxim's flat to line him up into his long row of lovers. But so what. Erik could do and think what he wanted. Christian had been charming and answered each question. Except one: what had happened to Philipp. It was a death area Maxim felt and wrapped himself with patience. But he knew that patience didn't exactly belong to one of his virtues.

Coco purred, the heaven blue eyes closed to slits. Maxim would give a lot to hear Christian purr like this. Purring with satisfaction, purring for sheer comfort.

Maxim jumped when the phone rang and Coco with him. He hissed a bit, more terrified than angry. Maxim rushed with him in his arms to answer the phone. Again his heart pounded in his throat when he heard the voice.

"Have you slept already?" Christian asked. "If yes, I hope you dreamt of me." A soft chuckle was in his voice. "Listen, I forgot to tell you about the congress in Paris. I'm off next week."

Maxim was disappointed. "How long?"

"Six days." Then there was silence at the other end of the line.

"Christian?"

"I wondered if you wanted to come with me. Can you take some days off?"

Maxim's heart skipped a beat. "Come with you?" he asked unbelieving.

"Well, why not? Have you ever been to Paris?"

"No never," Coco struggled in his arms because he squeezed him too hard and jumped down. He complained loudly and rushed into the kitchen, his tail high in the air. Maxim watched him going and grinned distorted. "That would be fantastic!" he shouted and heard Christian's laughter through the phone. "Settled then. I hear you tomorrow."

Maxim listened but Christian had hung up. Paris? The town of couples being in love? It felt like having a honeymoon ahead. He needed to pack all of his sexy clothes then. Right? Christian wouldn't insist on having two separate rooms? Hell, and if he did Maxim would find a way.

Following Coco he thought about the days off, but he was sure there wouldn't be a problem. What would Nadine say? And Tim?

The cat had vanished into his basket, where he lay curled up, pretending sleep. Maxim squatted down. "I have to leave you for a week, sweetie, but Joost and Rainer will take good care of you. Promise." Coco opened his eyes and gave him an unfriendly look. Maxim had to laugh. "Come on. There's no reason for you to be miffed. Allow me rather a little fun."

In his bed finally he dreamt about Christian's body. He stroked himself until he came. The man who had said that you don't think about your beloved one while jerking off was an idiot. Maxim let the semen dry on his body. Or he was right. What was then the consequence?