Made in Heaven - 8. I got too much life running thru my veins

Maxim hadn't come out of their bed for the rest of Saturday and the whole of Sunday. He hardly sorted his clothes nor his books nor did he decide which place his icon should have. Christian simply didn't care, he was too involved, standing naked in the kitchen, with just a short apron around his waist, cooking delicious things. Maxim hadn't expected so much enthusiasm. Hadn't there been a time when he thought that Christian couldn't speak two coherent sentences in a row? Now he had turned out to be a talkative man with a broad range of knowledge.

Maxim hadn't even seen very much of his cat; either he was sleeping in his basket or he sat with melancholy eyes at the large window sites. His favourite spot seemed to be Christian's guest room whose windows opened to the Sony Centre. He watched the people there, the tourists, the light that caught itself in the stripes of this extraordinary roof. Maxim though had detected some wet spots on the carpets and furniture but had been able to wipe them away without Christian's notice. This was just normal behaviour for Coco to mark his new territory, but Christian wouldn't be amused.

He had to do something for Coco soon, distract his mind, but every time he wanted to speak with Chris about it, he involved him into another chat or - most of all - into sex. Maxim couldn't get enough of it, admittedly. It was late Sunday evening and Maxim felt crunched. His legs hurt and his anus was sore, so he avoided giving Christian's bare butt a pinch when he entered the kitchen to see what's there for dinner. He didn't have to ask for he smelled it.

"Saltimbocca?" he asked, leaning against Christian's arm.

"Jumping directly into your mouth," Christian grinned, while he added wine to the sauce. "You like a cold spinach salad?"

Maxim nodded. "Do you know the shortest way from here to my bookshop? I thought of using the subway."

"Yeah, but you have to switch trains. There must be a map somewhere." He looked at him. "Hey, you sound tired. Have you fed the cat?"

"He doesn't want to eat. I think he's homesick."

"Oh dear! What can we do for this?"

"I don't know. Nothing. Give him time to get used to it. A lot of attention." Maxim played with Christian's hair. "Will you take care of him while I'm at work?"

"You mean will I take him down to the office? No, Maxim, he would make a mess with the models and the papers."

"Yeah. Sure, you're right."

"Why do you want to go to work anyway?" Christian asked, bending over the pan and stirring the sauce. He crumbled rosemary and thyme into it. "Why not enjoy better things?"

"Like what?" Maxim took it as a joke. His palm glided over Christian's bare buttocks, stroking them and sliding a finger into the crack.

"Like this for instance," Christian turned and grinned at him. "You better stop or I'll have cooked in vain."

"Perhaps another cat would cheer Coco up?" Christian asked later when he was dressed again, sitting at the table, pouring wine into glasses.

"No, that's impossible. They would fight with each other."

"Or make a lot of baby kittens."

Maxim rolled his eyes. "You don't want that!" he laughed. He changed the subject. "Do you think Tim's book will be a success? Perhaps all of the guests have ordered already?"

Christian nodded. The memory of that evening was over shadowed by Gregor. It had been a shock actually. He hadn't seen him for five years, almost, and he had changed a lot. He had become fat. Compared with Maxim he was a dinosaur. But he didn't want to do him wrong. Who cared about that actually. The most surprising thing was the look in Gregor's eyes. It was cool and disdainful. Despising. Christian knew he deserved this look. What if Maxim would look at him this way one day? This was never to be allowed. He would fulfil every wish, he would make certain that Maxim didn't want to work anymore but fill his time with Christian.

"Can you paint?" he asked.

"Huh?" Maxim couldn't understand the jump of thoughts.

"Well, can you?"

"A little bit. Why?"

"Ever made models? You know that we're always searching for creative heads. Let's start with this apartment. What would you change? You talked about colours last time I asked you."

"I like pastel colours. What about a mint green sofa and a salmon carpet? Or pale yellow curtains and an azure blue sofa or carpet? It's the contrarieties that are interesting. Put together colours that actually clash with each other. It's a matter of the colour's tone, if you don't do it too intensely, the result is amazing."

Christian had listened attentively. "And to be explicit: what would you like for the living room then?"

"Hmmm. The wall behind the white fireside I'd paint in terracotta. There's a technique where you blur the pain with a sponge, so it gets a structure. It's a start."

Christian smiled at him. "Oh Maxim, what're you doing then in a book shop when you have such ideas? Why don't you quit and be my creative headmaster?" He took a gulp from his wine and watched Maxim over the rim of his glass. At the same time he pondered the possibilities. He would have Maxim always around, would know what he's doing all day long. God knows what he was doing at the bookshop with Tim, or with Luan or all the other men coming and going.

"Are you serious?"

Christian nodded.

Maxim didn't know what to think. "I don't have any clue of what I'm talking about, Chris. It was just brain storming. I haven't even seen your office. Nor do I know what you're doing there actually."

"I'll spend a lot of the next few days at the villa that should be remodelled into a restaurant. We need the exact plans and measurements. Why don't you accompany me?"

"I need to work, Chris, remember that. I can't stop from one day to the other, I love it."

Christian nodded. "Well, then, let's start with the office."

"But not today. You haven't finished Tim's book yet." Maxim laid fork and knife back onto his plate. "You should always cook, I could get used to it." He smiled, went around the table and sat upon Christian's lap. "We should crawl back to bed and I will read this time and you listen, ok?" He outlined his nose and touched his lips with his fingers. Christian kissed them.

"Ok, let's see." Maxim had opened the folder and leafed through Tim's novel. Next to him on the bed, Christian's hand was stroking his back and shoulder, and he watched Coco who sat at the other end of the bed, his head between his paws. "Ah yes, here it is. You haven't read this, right?"

Christian looked and shook his head. Then he leaned back and listened.

"Farewell

The waistband of his black trousers was too loose. He would have to change the button and then it would be alright. Now just the jacket - white - as he had insisted because he had his own taste in clothes, and it would be alright. In the large mirror his eyes met Renate's, his wife to be. Exactly tomorrow at the same time she would be, and he felt nothing. Well, she was a fine woman, that was right, but Lars felt too young to get married, but somehow he had been over run by events. He wouldn't marry her, but her parents had insisted. Like HIS parents had insisted. As if it would be a problem nowadays to live together without marriage certificate, but in this town the walls had ears and the windows eyes.

Renate fluttered her lashes at him and, coquettishly, pulled up her long, crËme coloured dress. He saw the white stockings, held by suspender belts and a blue band around her upper thigh. Well, that was nice, but sometimes it didn't turn him on. Right now it was such a moment but he tried to smile. She didn't notice what was going on in his mind. Lars could simply not decide what he was: straight or homo or altogether at the same time. There were times when he went to bed only with men, alternating with times when it would be only women. What was the matter with him? Was this normal? Did he have to decide? Was he about to make the decision in getting married?

Well, he still could get what he wanted if he was clever enough. Renate didn't have to know that she wasn't the only one. She still winked at him in the mirror when her face suddenly changed. There was an arch, a bend, something like wavering air, and her face had become that of a little something with a hat that twinkled with moon and stars and a body that was clad in midnight blue lace. The green-golden eyes twinkled too and time stood still.

"A wish is granted tonight", she chirped at him from the mirror pane. Then she thought a moment, her ivory wand frozen high in the air. "Alright, it isn't night already, but the wish shall be granted. Quickly, please." She appeared a little impatient.

Lars gawked. As much as he blinked his eyes, the face in the mirror wasn't Renate's, but the one of a little fairy godmother. Yes, this she had to be. It was like a fairy tale. Lars coughed a little bit from the blue dust that emanated from the mirror and knew what he wanted to wish. He turned his head and looked at his wife-to-be. She was undressing now. He saw her legs, the white pumps, and her underskirt. The dress fell down to her ankles and she stood there provocatively stretching out her arms to pull him to her body. That was the woman he was bound to spend the rest of his life with. He smelled her perfume, although he liked to sniff the pure manly smell. Or Florian's after shave he put on to emphasize his scent of animal sex.

He felt her nibbling at his ear and thought that sex with Renate wasn't that great. And this for the rest of his life?? No. He turned to their mirror image when he heard a niggling voice. "Quickly, young man!! There's other things for me to do."

Again time stood still. Alright he thought. "I wish fun tonight. The best sex of my life as goodbye to freedom. A single-man-party with all my friends. An orgy!"

"An orgy?" the fairy godmother repeated. "That's all? You don't want to wish for better things? What is there for me to organize, you can do it fairly yourself."

"Hey", he approached the mirror and tapped at the pane. "I thought you're here to grant me a wish. No complaints! I wish an orgy but you know what my real wish is? To be able to decide."

"Decide what?"

"What I am."

"You are definitely human if I am not mistaken," she said slyly.

"Yeah, human. Man. Straight. Gay. What am I?"

"Definitely not a woman." The tiny person lifted her wand and pondered. "Well, let's see. Your wish is to be able to make a decision. Good. But be warned. A fulfilled wish is the father of many wishes to follow."

Lars coughed by the blue, twinkling dust that enveloped everything, the mirror, himself and Renate who had dressed now in her usual clothes, looking sullen. Probably because he hadn't followed her invitation to have sex. Oh well, there were worse things than that.

"I'm so nervous," he said now.

"That's why you're having your farewell party from your single-man-life," she answered.

"Right. And I'm looking forward."

The phone rang that very moment. It was Detlef, telling him the time of the party's start at his house. Lars beamed.

Two hours later he stepped out of the taxi and rang the bell at the front door of Detlef's house. He was one of his friends, well, let's say, he was an acquaintance, like all people Lars knew. Except Florian. Detlef opened and hit him on the shoulder. "Welcome, welcome! You are here to let your hair down?" Detlef wore a funny hat as if he was going to a carnival meeting. "You came to the right place, Sir." He pushed Lars inside and directly down to his basement party room from which loud music already sounded.

"Anita isn't here tonight, so trouble free digs!" His receding hairline gleamed in the thin light. Lars was greeted with a loud hello! from all the people, received a full beer glass in one hand and in the other a plate with potato salad.

"Now, tell me, a blonde and a dark haired girl jump from a sky scraper at the same time. Which of the two will arrive on the ground first?"

Lars made a helpless face.

"The dark one, of course! The blonde first had to ask for the way!" A roaring laughter shook the room. Well, not exactly bright, but Lars had to bear some more "blonde's jokes" he didn't find funny at all. At last he himself was blonde. But he was a man. He caught some looks from Florian.

Two hours later the crowd was plastered. Florian threw his booze into a bucket behind the bar. Lars did the same after awhile. Suddenly his "orgy" was just boring and reduced to premature jokes. How did he come to know such people???

Detlef looked at his watch, swayed a little and waved with his arms while he spilled his beer. "Listen, everybody," he drowned out the music, "time for the big surprise! AAHHHH!"

There was a rumble in front of the door, leading the up steps. Detlef pressed a button of the stereo and Tom Jones' rasping tiger voice started a very familiar song. An over dimensional cake rolled into the party room. Complete with pink, artificial icing, burning candles and sugar flowers. It was rolled by a young man in tailcoat, top hat and stick.

Lars looked dumbfounded. A cake! Who had thought such an invention. But he nonetheless was thrilled about the girl that would doubtless crawl out of the cake. He was forced to blow out the candles - as if it was his birthday party - then the top of the cake popped open. Lars saw a black top hat shooting up, followed by a head, a tailcoat and stick. But the face was undoubtedly male. Like the whole body.

An excited cry accompanied the young man when he stepped out of the cake, while Lars still looked for the girl. The man, now joined by his colleague that had rolled the cake in, were mingling through the men, gathered around in a circle and started to turn them on. They pulled sweet pouting mouths and touched the bodies of the drunken ones. "Look at these tits," Detlef gasped when he squeezed them.

Huh? Detlef, the poor homophobic arse hole, would never touch a man voluntarily. Then they were in front of himself. Tom Jones' tiger voice roared now "Sex bomb" and to the rhythm of this song the young man started to tug on his bow tie, opened it, and wrapped the band around Lars' neck. His eyes were thinly framed with coal but that was the only make-up. "You're the poor guy to marry tomorrow?" the boy whispered for only him to hear, while his colleague had a go at Detlef. His erection stuck out from his trousers, building a huge tent. Lars couldn't comprehend. Why would Detlef have a hard-on when a guy tried to make him hot?

"Are you?" The boy was young, younger than Lars. He started to press his abdomen at Lars, shedding the jacket of his tail coat. He wore a red silken vest underneath. Lars saw the smooth, long muscles and the sun studio tanned skin. Florian was suddenly at his side. "What's going on here?" he asked. "What do you see? Men or women?"

Lars glared at him. Then at the strippers, for that they had to be, then at Detlef who had his trousers down, revealing ugly striped boxers.

"Men", Lars whispered and Florian nodded. "Same here. Look at the others." They all sported large bulges between their legs, but the young stripper escaped all of their urgently fumbling hands. Lars seemed to hear a bell's thin laughter hung in the air and he felt enveloped again in a twinkling veil of blue haze.

The strippers had lined up side by side now in front of their audience while the "Tiger's" tremolo made the glasses rattle. They skipped some side-steps around their sticks; their patent leather shoes clicked upon the ground; in synchrony they lifted their top hats and threw them away with a casual movement of their wrists. One landed upon Lars' head, the other on Florian's. White gloves followed, then the sticks clattered to the ground. Suddenly a wave of sex rushed through the room when the other stripper shed his jacket and stood now in his red vest like the second did.

Time was at a standstill again. Lars didn't hear the howling cheers for encouragement of the others anymore. Olaf had been forced upon a stool and one of the strippers sat now in his lap, straddled him and opened his vest. Olaf shrieked with pleasure and started to work his nipples, until his face vanished in between them - or rather upon them. The stripper's trouser covered arse wriggled back and forth and Olaf was on the brink of fainting. Florian next to his side grinned completely mischievously and delighted at the same time.

Olaf had been freed again, pulled to his feet, Detlef was fervently jacking off himself, his blood shot eyes almost popping out from their sockets. "Those tits" he muttered incessantly, glaring at the stripper's upper body. Florian was right, they seemed to see women. And how odd was this actually?

"Call me Valerian" one stripper whispered now while he ripped off his trousers with one smooth movement and stood there with red tight boxer shorts, reaching halfway down his thighs.

Lars started to sweat. "Would you rather like to see the girls?" Florian asked him next, swaying his hips in the same rhythms as the dancers did. Lars eyed the hairless, muscular legs and his eyes fastened on the hard bulge between Valerian's legs. A push-up he had seen before. Surely he couldn't wear something like this. Renate would find it very odd anyway. Such stuff was reserved for gays only, he grinned. Hell, yes! He pulled Valerian nearer by his open vest while the other dancer filled glasses that were downed in no time by the rest of Lars' friends. Some of them started to stagger, Detlef had sunk now upon a stool, his shrivelled dick peeping out from the slit of his boxers, drooling white stuff.

Lars didn't think about the reason why it was just Florian who saw the same as he did; he knew what he wanted. He had made the decision. He didn't want to see those female tarts with all their fat arses and even fatter hips and bobbing tits. He wanted the dancer. Valerian withdrew his grip and ripped his boxers that seemed to be glued at the seams because it was that easy to remove them, standing now in a blood red G-string that barely held what had to be hidden. His skin gleamed. Smooth skin, firm and tight. Florian let out a chuckle and removed the vest from his body. His fingers caressed Valerian who smiled.

His colleague meanwhile had stripped down to his G-string also, judging from the high-pitched howling. But then all movement stopped. It was just the four of them, staring at each other: the dancers, Lars and Florian. Valerian started to beckon them out of the room, up the stairs into the next best room they could find. It was quiet in the basement when Lars listened.

"Flo?" he whispered. "What are they up to now?"

"What should it be. You're having an orgy! Didn't you want that?" Florian whispered back. His eyes were fastened on the little arses wagging upstairs in front of him. "Forget your marriage tomorrow and let's have a real party."

Yeah. They had a real party. And Lars got the answer why Florian saw the same as he did. The four-some left him worn out; there had always been a dick up his arse or in his mouth; he got sucked and fucked another arse, still accompanied by those thin bell's laughter that hung in his ears. In the middle of the night he awoke, with his arms wrapped around Florian's body. The stripper had gone.

"Since when are you gay?" he asked Florian's back, not sure if he was awake or not.

"Since my birth. Haven't you noticed?" Florian turned to face him. "I've seen you often in bars, but you didn't see me. Welcome to real life."

Lars blinked. He felt like Kevin Kline in "In & Out." Only thing that was missing was that he said "I'm gay" being asked if he wanted to marry Renate in front of the registrar.

"Why didn't you help me earlier?"

"What earlier? I've met the tiny lady with her wand only yesterday." Florian said completely serious.

"Huh?"

Florian grinned. "I wished you to be gay instead of bi." He didn't wait for Lars' reaction but gave him kisses that almost blew Lars mind. They were interrupted by noises in the house. He could hear snatches of words. "Whew, what a party last night!"

"Have you seen those tarts!"

"Sure, but I must have passed out. Where have they gotten to?"

"Yeah, and I was ready for a real fuck. Shit."

Lars and Florian grinned at each other, hopped out of the bed and under the shower.

"Will you stop the marriage?" Florian asked, soaping Lars' body.

"What marriage? Who's Renate anyway?" Well, she'll be pissed."

"Sure she will. But I can't help it." Lars had two hours to tell her and then he was free for all the rest of his life. He sent a silent prayer to the fairy godmother and to Florian too. Surely he had many wishes to follow. But all of them would come true."

"No wonder Tim didn't read this aloud," Christian chuckled. "Too much sex laden. What gives me an idea."

* * * * * *

Maxim was late and out of breath when he entered the bookshop Monday morning. He followed the giggling from the office and found Luan, Nadine, Tim and Wolfgang - the head of the shop - gathered around the computer, heads stuck together. Nobody seemed to notice his arrival, so he peered over the heads to find photos of Tim's reading uploaded at Prinz Eisenherz' website.

Nadine finally turned. "Hey, look at this. Doesn't Tim look gorgeous?"

Maxim saw a Tim with reddened cheeks, staring into the camera's flash like a caught rabbit, on others he smiled into the camera and held out his manuscript. There was even he and Tim together. "You both make a nice pair," Nadine chortled into his ear.

"Don't try to link me up," Maxim murmured back. "Hello, Wolfie, had a good holiday?" he said aloud to the end thirty, bulky man.

"Absolutely. Who's the next?"

"We'll need help when I'm away", Luan said. Everybody knew he wanted to visit relatives in Vietnam.

Tim had said nothing the whole time, nor even looked at Maxim. He scrolled down the monitor to find interviews with Joost - the celebrity who valorised certainly the event - and a statement of Tim himself. "Here," he held out a thin magazine attachment, "that's the interviews the journalists made with me. And more photos." He pulled Maxim to the now empty chair next to him. "Nadine made photo's with her digital camera." Tim watched himself writing autographs and toasting with Philipp. "Philipp told me the book sells well," he said.

"How does he know?"

"He spoke with Gregor who had ordered it. The print office said it will take a while for there's so many orders." Tim's eyes were glowing. "I haven't thanked you all enough for what you did for me."

"Oh dear, that's what friends are for, right?" Maxim bent even closer. "You know, there's a lot of crap standing between the shelves here, don't you think. Or in book shops in general. I'm not sure how people get their manuscripts published. Either they have good connections or sleep with the publisher."

Tim adored Maxim's smile. He couldn't get enough of it. "Or they simply have luck," he giggled. "Be at the right place at the right time and meet the right people. And don't be shy," he added.

"Yes, you need the instinct to do the right thing. But it doesn't mean you should sleep with the publisher," Maxim threatened him with his forefinger. "I would be mad with you." He caught another hungry look from Tim, but it vanished as quick as it appeared.

"Who's Gregor anyway?" Maxim asked them.

"Haven't you met him? He was there at my reading. He spoke with Philipp and with Christian's twin." He paused a moment. "Don't you find it odd that Christian has a perfect twin image? I couldn't decide both. Gregor is one of Christian's ex-lovers."

Maxim said nothing. Gregor was his ex-lover. Hmm. Now he could remember Philipp talking to a short, blonde and stocky guy.

"They met last weekend."

Maxim's thoughts returned from far away. He noticed that if he had expected Tim sounding jealous or at least disappointed, he was not.

"Aren't you with Philipp then?" He concealed that he had prompted Philipp to play an open game with Tim. Tim shook his head. "Not what you would call a relationship. We're just friends. He can't decide what he likes to do. Being single for a while or not."

“Nothing wrong with being single", Maxim said. "I wouldn't wait for him. Tell me rather about this Gregor. Has Philipp told you anything about him?"

"No, why should he. We heard each other only on the phone, he wasn't with me. And why should I be interested in things concerning you, Christian and all your ex-lovers?" There was a faint aggressive tone in Tim's voice. "You moved last weekend, right?" Tim was not looking at him. "How's the cat?"

"He tries to get used to it. Although he might be homesick." Maxim looked at Tim who still avoided to look into Maxim's face. "I'm sorry to hear this." His voice had become softer and he looked into his eyes finally. "Do you feel well there?"

Maxim nodded. For some odd reasons he wasn't able to speak for a moment. He missed his familiar surrounding, like his neighbours, and the small balcony sun flooded with all his plants and flowers and suddenly he had an idea. "Didn't you say that Philipp stays at the hotel? Would you ask him if he'd like to take over my old flat?"

"You haven't given it up?" Tim asked surprised, then his face lit up. "Sure, I'll ask him. He will love you for this."

"Oh gosh, better not. Christian would kill me." He joked. But their laughter stuck into their throats. Oddly enough, both sensed it and looked away.

On his way home he made a detour to a plant wholesaler. He strolled through all the departments, looking for plants that were able to stand in full sun. He charmed a sales clerk to do a tour with him and decided on oleander, a box of hibiscus plants, several palms and elephant grass. As it was comfortable, he bought some other plants and flowers for indoors too and gave the address for delivery.

He really felt happy. Within a few weeks his life had changed much and improved. Wishes had come true. Wishes he thought were unreachable for him. And he certainly didn't mean the money. He wouldn't accept a single cent from Christian. That he would live at his apartment in vain was much enough; so he would certainly contribute to the costs of living like food, gas, water and electricity. But Christian didn't want to hear that. He laughed off Maxim's objections.

"I missed you, sweetheart," he said when Maxim opened the flat with the metal card. "Had a good day?" He pulled him close and started to kiss him, but Maxim was so hungry he couldn't enjoy it. Gently he pushed Christian aside. "You have something to eat for me? I'm starving."

On that cue Coco appeared at his feet, complaining loudly.

"Have you fed the cat?" Maxim asked, looking for his bowls that were empty.

"Geez, Chris, you have forgotten." Maxim sounded angry. He poured water into one bowl and opened a tin. His glances at Christian were reproachful. "There isn't even milk for him. Haven't you done the shopping?"

Christian felt like a stupid school boy. "Hey, I'm working the whole day. I was outside to measure the house. How then can I care for your cat?"

Coco smacked his food noisily and unimpressed. "Ok, I'm going to get some milk," Maxim said, but Christian stopped him. "Coco won't die when it's just water today. We wanted to go down to my office, remember? And I can order from a restaurant if your like," he was appeasing. "I'm sorry, tomorrow I'll buy everything." He peered at the tin to read the label. "Your cat's a gourmet, eh?"

"Yeah. I needed long before I could convince him that tin food is as good as fresh cooked liver." Maxim's anger blew over. Chris seemed to be seriously ashamed. Conciliatory he said, "Let's have a look at your office and then something to eat."

Down at the first floor, Maxim was impressed by the interior, the computers, drawing boards, plans and photos hanging on the walls. "Look here, that's the construction plan for the house. I planned a designer flooring looking like wood. Very easy care and sound absorbing."

"You think about everything, don't you?" Then Maxim saw a medallion from wood-intarsia.

"It will be placed in the dining room," Christian explained. "Nobody will notice it's just plastic. Here are stone imitations. What do you think would go well with this colour?" He pointed to a display of different shades of the same peach colour. Maxim held the wood against it and decided very quickly. Christian smiled. "Good choice, honey." Maxim smiled back. "Before I forget it, I've bought plants today. They will arrive in the next couple of days."

"That's why you came that late?"

"Late? I'm of age, you know," Maxim joked. His stomach grumbled loudly.

"Why haven't you told me that Gregor was at Tim's reading?" he asked when they had settled down finally to eat the delivery from a steakhouse nearby. "I think Philipp has spoken to him."

Christian forgot to chew and stared at him. No, he glared. "Why do you know his name?" He leaned forward. "Why do you know about him anyway?"

Maxim's brows pulled together. "What's the interrogative tone about? Is it forbidden for me to meet some of your old lovers? I've told you about Leon and his disappearing, so why shouldn't I know about yours?" He looked over the table with a candid expression in his almond eyes.

Christian felt a stab in the pit of his stomach. He looked down at his salad as if it was teeming with worms suddenly. His thoughts were racing though. What should he tell him? Maxim wasn't one of the naive boys he used to have as boyfriends. He was of age indeed - as Maxim had stated earlier in his office. Christian had no right to control him. Neither when he was coming in late nor could he forbid him to be curious about his life before Maxim had entered it. It would be fine if there wouldn't be that indefinite feeling within him. The feeling that burnt like hydrochloric acid and forced him to say and do silly things. He knew he didn't have it completely under control. Christian asked himself if he ever would.

He cleared his throat. "Well, you know Philipp was the partner I had before you." He lifted his eyes. "Gregor was the one before Philipp, that's all."

"Have you broken up in a quarrel? I mean, you could have greeted him. I suppose you haven't seen him for a long time?" Maxim fell silent. Something was wrong here. Why had Gregor spoken to Philipp and to Martin and not to Chris?

On Christian's forehead appeared tiny drops of sweat. When he lifted the fork to his mouth Maxim thought he saw a tremble in his fingers.

"Maxim." Christian's eyes were milky grey and veiled. "I think there exist things one cannot speak about. Not even between lovers. You need your privacy and I need mine. Thus please don't insist on knowing about the past. Let it be. I've asked you before, and I don't want to do it again."

Maxim said nothing. But didn't this light the fire of curiosity? Chris must realize that his action would make him appear as if he would have something to hide. "Was it that bad?" he asked. "To me he looked harmless."

Christian looked irritated. "Harmless? Oh, you think we had fights, right?" He started his best charming smile Maxim never could resist.

"Come here," he gently removed the knife from Maxim's hand and pulled him over into his lap. "I must assure you that there was nothing you have to be concerned about. I just don't want to talk about it, because I don't want to be reminded. Past and history isn't important to me, you know."

"We need knowledge about the past to understand the present," Maxim said low. "If you're ready to tell me about it, I'm all ears then."

"You think I don't trust you enough?" When he saw Maxim nodding he hastened to add, "Don't think so, Maxim. Trust has nothing to do with my love."

But how can he separate this, Maxim thought. He himself couldn't love somebody he didn't trust. He froze in Christian's arms when Elvis' voice sounded. Christian had used the remote control for the CD player. "I've found it between your CD's. Do you mind? You fancy Elvis, eh?" His eyes flashed diamond clear again and it made Maxim smile. "Sure I'm keen on Elvis, he was a beauty," Maxim teased. He jumped up from Christian's legs and pulled him up before he started to turn around with him in a tight dance. "We're caught in a trap", the deep voice reverberated through the whole room. "I can't walk out. Because I love you too much baby".

Suddenly Maxim was all ears. He wrapped his arms around Christian's body and shoved his palms into the waistband of Christian's trousers. He refused to believe that Chris hid secrets from him.

"Why can't you see what you're doing to me when you don't believe a word I say?" it sounded from the loudspeaker. Christian was quiet as well and looked into Maxim's eyes. "We can't go on together with suspicious minds... and we can't build our dreams on suspicious minds." Christian shook his head imperceptibly and his eyes started to flicker. "I love you, baby," he whispered.

Maxim sensed violability and he felt suddenly very strong. He stroked Christian's back. "I believe you," he said, "take your time; I can wait."

Christian was very thankful for his words. He didn't want to show weakness - for he considered it as weakness. But he didn't want to speak about Gregor either. He never would. How could he! He would lose Maxim and this was the last thing he would allow. But how to hold him? Maxim's palms now stroked his bare buttocks and he felt his body reacting. He knew that Maxim was a very sexy being and not shy at all to show it. But would he show it to others too? Tim - for instance. Or Philipp?

"He was different," Christian murmured. He enjoyed Maxim's fingers, trailing lazily around his hip, searching for his abdomen to open the zipper. "We can't build our dreams on suspicious minds", it still echoed in his ears and Elvis' dark voice filled the bedroom they both were tumbling into.

"Gregor was different?" Maxim whispered, bending over Christian's body, laying outstretched upon the bedcover. "Who cares." His lips touched Christian's. "I'm so happy," he said between kisses. "My biggest wish has come true."

Christian couldn't answer, for he was too stunned and then he couldn't loosen his lips from his lover's. Maxim was promising everything. Give his whole being. How could Christian destroy it by telling him some of his history? Past didn't count. Not Philipp. Not Gregor. Not all the other guys before he had lost contact with. Not the truth about his mother.

He moaned. Maxim had opened his shirt and was biting softly into his rosy nipples. And he would make sure that Gregor, Philipp and Martin would shut their mouths.

Maxim's tongue left a wet trail between his pecs, then downwards to his belly button. "You were the centre of my wet dreams," Maxim giggled. "I loved you while I was playing piano. I loved you with my eyes and you were the protagonist of my very own special film that played in my mind." Another kiss into the thin, reddish blond line of hairs. "But you were unreachable." Maxim looked up and licked his lips. "What do you think I would wish when the fairy godmother would pop up right beside us?'

Christian blinked.

"Endless love. A love ever after with you." As soon as Maxim had said this, an alert bell sounded in his head. Wasn't there something that had warned him to wish something like that? He shook his head and showered Christian's body with more of his tiny kisses. He inhaled his body scent, the special Christian smell of wood and clear water.

Yeah, Christian thought, he would make sure. He didn't want to lose him. He had changed and he had everything under control. Even the nagging, burning voice he had banned into the farthest corner of his brain couldn't stop his conviction. Maxim would be the proof that he was able to love. To love a man and not to rule him.

Maxim's tongue outlined the length of his penis he had pulled out from the slit of his tight boxers and Christian succumbed. He would always do so. As long as Maxim loved him. He wasn't that strong as he appeared, and his snappy, dashing manner was just a cover. At least the psychologist had told him so. Together they had to find out what the reason was for this cover.

Maxim lifted his legs to get access to the path from his testicles to his orifice. Maxim knew he couldn't get enough of it, but he just teased him. Christian moaned for unsatisfied desire and Maxim's dark eyes appeared over the shaft of his very hard penis to look at him innocently. Perhaps Maxim had seen behind the cover. Caught a glimpse of the very, very soft core that was hidden deep inside him. Sometimes he had the distinct feeling Maxim was able to see through everything. This mixture of fear and self-consciousness turned Christian on actually.

A tongue entered him, swirled around the rim, was replaced by fingers and later by Maxim's penis. Christian loved to lay on his back and leave the action to Maxim; on other occasions he was so horny he couldn't just lay still. Their panting culminated into a mutual muffled outcry both didn't realize.

You must be in a state of mental bliss when you experience something like that, Christian thought. Or in a mental disease. Amnesia. Black out. Black hole. Black as Maxim's eyes were. Burning in the dim light. Exotic Slav. His skin glittering with thousands of small plates with golden glitter. Scattered white drops in his black pubic hair and up to his chest. A difference like black and white angels. His dark red lips contrasting with the white in his eyes. Contrasting with Christian's blond skin, bronzed due to the summer's sun, but light enough to recognize him as an office worker.

Maxim murmured something next to him. His head was cuddled in the angle of Christian's shoulder and neck and he had draped one of his slender legs around Christian's abdomen. Wasn't he responsible now for Maxim's happiness? He had said a wish had come true for him. A long timed wish. Was it wise to make your happiness dependent on other humans? No, it wasn't wise. But we can't help doing it.

After another visit at the house he was about to change into a restaurant, Christian called his brother. He was determined not to let anything destroy the gentle relationship he was about to build up with Maxim. Not from anybody, not even from his brother despite all the secrets they shared.

He met him at his work place at the publisher which looked chaotic as always. Christian wondered how he was able to work considering the amount of open books around him, dirty coffee cups and full ashtrays. He knew, Martin was in his element because h hardly lifted his head although Christian had announced his coming. A fan in the corner blew a cool breeze and moved the sheets of the dictionaries. Martin chewed at his pen, staring upon a manuscript; an open laptop on the desk next to him. Christian pulled out a chair opposite his brother and sat down.

"Coffee?" Martin asked absentminded.

"Thanks no. You have a cigarette for me?"

Martin searched for the package and found it under the table. Christian had to laugh. "Unbelievable that twins should be that different," he said, breathing grey smoke. Martin grinned. "I assume you want to talk with me about Gregor? Or rather Maxim? Or do you have any other news?"

Christian nodded shortly.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Maxim anything. It's your job." Martin leaned forward and wobbled with his chair. "They told you you shouldn't be shy with the information that you have been in psychological treatment once. It makes things easier when you play with open cards. Better than to hide and fear."

"With 'they' you mean the psychologists I suppose," Christian said coolly.

"Yes."

"And you think Maxim would be keen on living with a psycho?"

"You're a psycho as much as I am," Martin said. But it did not sound very convincing. Christian sensed it. "Even my brother thinks I am." He sucked at his cigarette. "I thought I couldn't over come Philipp and his sudden disappearance. We were happy, weren't we."

This was a statement rather than a question. Martin though knew a different story. He was silent and watched his brother; his perfect spitting image. Did he look the same when he was sad? But Christian's eyes sparkled. "They told me to look forward and not to look back. Philipp is past. The whole four years."

"And what have you learnt from this?"

Christian shot him a look. "That you were fucking him while he still was mine."

"You still consider people to be your own. He's not and he never was. He's a human being with his own life, separate from you."

Christian seemed not to listen or the information didn't sink in. "I won't allow Maxim to be taken from me." Christian stubbed his cigarette vehemently into the ash tray. His friendly manner was gone. "I warn you, Martin. Don't try the same with him."

Martin resigned inwardly. Was it any use to tell him that all initiative had started by Philipp? He had just taken the opportunity and at least Philipp could pour out his heart. "It's no good what you're doing, Chris. Remember my words. If you want to keep Maxim you have to let go. He'll come back; you won't lose him."

But Martin's forceful words failed. Christian shook his head. "If I watch out for him, nothing will happen to him." He paused. "Are you in touch with Gregor?"

"No. He has taken up his studies again. He looks a lot different," he added in a tired voice.

"Good. I don't want to know him in Maxim's surroundings. Maxim told me that Gregor was talking to Philipp. That makes nice allies, don't you think?"

Martin moaned. "Geez, Chris. You see white mice in each corner. What alliance anyway? Against whom? I know Gregor still thinks you should rather sit in prison for what you have done. But after all, you didn't do it purposely." Crap, this was a lie, Martin thought instantly. The accident could only have happened because Christian had lost self control and was beating Gregor. That he had broken his skull was just the result of it.

"And I should be eternally grateful because you have spoken for me in court?" Christian spat out. "Telling the judge what a nice and harmless boy I am. I was just drunk that night and a tad mad because Gregor was constantly fucking with another guy! Remember our mother! What did she do then?" A vein at Christian's temple started to pulsate dangerously.

"Don't mention mother," Martin said sharply and cringed inwardly. "You know she was ill."

The twins stared into their grey, sparkling eyes until Christian looked away. "I'm sorry, Martin."

"I thought you had worked it out in the clinic," Martin said calmly. "The reason for all this. If I could just help you. I mean, I was affected as well those times. Why can't you accept that humans aren't a threat to you? You don't have to fight. You don't have to lay in wait for a disaster to come. I don't say disasters don't happen. But it's about the way you handle them. What happened to mother was a disaster, for instance. But look at you: you're successful, you have enough money to lead a good life. You're good looking, you're healthy. Why do you suffer?" Martin smiled indulgently at him. It costs him a lot to speak with him like this. "And now you have met a good man who seemed to like you pretty much. Why don't you simply enjoy it."

Christian stared at Martin and listened.

"The docs were right, by the way. Don't cling to the past, but look into the future. But don't forget your mistakes. You know as the saying goes: It's not a crime to make a mistake. It's a crime not to learn from them. Why should I start to do something with Maxim? And why do you suppose that Maxim would start something with me, huh? That's ridiculous." Martin wondered that Christian was so calm and listened without interrupting him. At other occasions like this he had flipped out. Perhaps Maxim meant that much to him that he would fight his natural born jealousy. But hadn't their mother tried the same? And where had this led to?

Christian rose from his chair. He said not a word to Martin's speech. "I'll try," was the only answer Martin got.

Two days later Christian held his palms over Maxim's eyes and acted very mysteriously. He had waylaid him in the small hall and guided him into the living room. Maxim found it funny and giggled, stumbling over his shoes. "Has the plants delivery arrived? Geez, Chris, I know what they look like, I've bought them!" Christian laughed with him. He tickled his ribs with one hand, the other still blocking his sight. Then he stopped, said "Viola!" and Maxim blinked when he removed his palm. His look fell upon a white concert piano standing a little aside and out of the sun, so the wood wouldn't have any damage. The fine polish shimmered and a low, plush covered stool stood in front of it.

Maxim stood frozen to the ground and couldn't believe what he saw. This couldn't be true. Christian wouldn't give him such a present. Or was it borrowed for some time? He quickly turned to look into Christian's eyes. "Is this for me? But." Christian closed his questioning mouth with a deep kiss. "You said you can't practice, so this will do it, won't it?"

"But…" Maxim tried to find the words, but he couldn't. This was not a present you give when you know each other just for some weeks. Ok, months. Well, over a year exactly. He shook his head in confusion. "You can't do this. I can't take it," he blurted out finally.

"Sure you can. Don't worry, it's borrowed. A friend of mine did me the favour, he's working at the factory and since he knows me he could assure the staff it would be in good hands with me."

Maxim finally dared to approach the instrument. He had never played upon a real concert piano. He saw the golden plate with the name Schimmel, a very exclusive factory specializing in concert pianos for people either with money or very famous. His forefinger slid along the lid of the keyboard, caressing it almost tenderly. Then he sat determined upon the plush stool and turned up the lid. Ebony and ivory, flawless keys, like a complete set of teeth that worked with perfection for Maxim to to coax out of it it's best tones and music. Maxim wasn't by far good enough in playing such an instrument but he didn't tell Christian. It was the thought that counted.

Hesitating, Maxim hit a key. The sound was full and clear. His finger slid playfully over the black and white keyboard, intoned some classic melodies before he looked up. Christian had propped his elbows upon the shell and watched him.

"Is it really just borrowed?" Maxim asked. "I mean, otherwise I couldn't accept it, Chris. It's too precious."

"It tells you how precious you are to me," Christian said softly and Maxim was embarrassed. He wasn't sure if he could return those strong feelings. But, hell yes! he could. He had waited for Christian for over a year, and now the man of his dreams was all his own. From hair to toe and he was telling him so. "Dario will be surprised how much my playing will have improved," Maxim said, but Christian pulled his brows together. Maxim didn't notice for he was watching his fingers and admired the soft stroke of the keys. He didn't have to use much pressure to the foot keys either, it was just amazing.

Coco appeared around the corner and sat at the base of the stool, looking up. But the loud sound of the piano scared him away very soon. Maxim watched him go with his tail raised high in the air and grinned. "You'll have to get use to it, sweetie," he said. Christian tried to take him up into his arms, but Coco hissed and extricated himself from Christian's hold. Maxim didn't see Christian's disappointed face. He still couldn't get friendly with the cat for he always fled his touch. Stupid cat. What was the matter with him? Coco stared with unreadable blue eyes at him from the seat of the armchair he had chosen as his favourite place. Christian hadn't stopped him although Coco's claws didn't go well with the white leather. But he didn't want a quarrel with Maxim.

He looked over. Maxim was still absorbed in a melody he alone knew. He saw the soft, black hair falling over his eyes, bleached to brown by the sun. Saw the gentle curve of his cheekbones meeting with his jaw line, the shoulders, covered with a simple white T-shirt and he started to understand the legendary Russian's love for music. Noiseless he approached Maxim from aside, took his hands from the keyboard and pulled him up. "The plants arrived," he whispered. "They're up on the roof already. You just have to decorate."

"Really?" Maxim called out excited. "That's all too much for my poor heart!" He laughed cheerfully and boyishly and - as Christian seemed happy. "How can I make up for all this?"

"Just love me. I don't want anything more. That's not too much, is it." Christian locked eyes with the black, almond ones and read agreement.