Two or three days later, he was leaving with a big bag. Did not take a taxi, but one of his friends brought the car. Leaving forever, maybe. Wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, looked so fine that anyone could just fall in love with him.
Had to move to another city. Called his friend by phone and exploded in tears. And remembered then, that love was hard to find. His mother just died and had nobody else in the world. His father was an unknown from another country to him.
His main job was at a well-known call center - which is one of those places that gringos usually come out with, slaving the rest of the world with jobs that they don’t usually like to do - ; his side projects were as a ballet dancer and underwear modeling, that probably were his real dreams. Imagine how hot his naked body was ‘cause he usually spent time at the gym. I found it out as while taking a shower the night we spent together.
We met one day at a mall, he was standing nearby the children’s playground, watching something in the distance, almost totally taken out of his mind. I was just walking with one of my friends, the “Negro”, having an exciting chat about the days I spent at the beach with my cousins. I was so totally unaware that I stumbled with him. “Sorry”, I said, and he just smiled and spitted out a spontaneous “no problem”. I took a quick look and more words came to my mouth.
“I’m really sorry”, said I, “we are just walking around looking for a place called ‘The Vintage’ but sadly we could not get to it… for this place has many stores and some of them look and sound better than that…” of course it was a lie, I was just gaining some time to keep on talking with this pretty boy until getting his phone number, his email address or whatever could make me see him again. “I know where it is”, he said; “really?” and at the exact moment he was about to point out and start giving addresses, I asked “so why don’t you show us…?” Negro got the look of “here he comes…” as I smiled very pleased when he answered a “sure”. But Negro was also pleased to be guided by this boy, no lie.
We walked down the hall, turned rite, turned left, kept straight few stores and during that ride, we got more information from him. He was studying at the university and lived nearby downtown, liked modeling and dancing – he was attending a dance school, as I said - , and also liked to write. His name was (believe it or not) Val-Athe Danzr. “My dad is from Turkey”, he said, “my mom is from this country…”
“Nice”, said I, “you know, my little brother wants to be a ballet dancer too… which school do you go to…?” I asked. And he answered very sincerely. Of course I did not have any little brother, but my question worked it out well to get more info. “You are such a bitch”, I remember Negro told me later as I laughed.
When we got to the right hall, he pointed out and whispered a “good bye”, but before that I got his phone number “to get the address to the ballet school”.
Negro started telling me that I was a real bitch, but the boy was “really cute and seemed to have a nice body under those tight pants”, he said.
A couple of days later, I called him to ask about the school, and he said he was gonna call me back because at the moment he was at his job. Hours later, he called me back and sounded really friendly. We agreed on meeting at a certain place to go to see the school.
I took a ride in one of those train-like buses that the new government had just bought in several millions of US dollars that just made life more expensive in our already poor country. Waited some minutes for him. Above my head, the skies were turning dark, seemingly the rain was coming. It was so dark, that I thought about leaving, but needed to call him first. At that moment, he appeared. “Right now, I’m just coming from the school which is behind the corner…” he said, “here’s the phone number and a brochure for you”. “Ok”, I said, “what are you up to now?” I asked. “I just got some minutes off, I need to rest a little while and going home…” A thunder brought the rain, and with the rain we had to get cover. “Why don’t we go home…?, it’s not far”, he said. And we started walking faster and faster.
By the time we were opening his front door, it was already pouring and we were really wet. Walked straight upstairs and got into his room.
It was a big room with its own bathroom; on one side, there was a big mirror facing his bed.
“Alright…” he said, “I gotta take a shower” and started taking his clothes off: first his shoes, then his shirt… a nice chest appeared; took his pants off and grabbed a towel. “This is for you…” he said, throwing it to me. Watching him undressing, turned me on when he disappeared behind the bathroom door. “Shite” I thought. “Hey, I gave you the towel so you could join me in the shower” he said after several minutes “it’s bad not to have a shower after such a walking in the rain… so they said”. And I jumped in the shower totally naked and with a hard on.
We enjoyed the rubbing and the tender caress on our bodies. He was taller than I, but could reach his lips to kiss him.
I really enjoyed watching him: white skin, black hair, a gym body and runner’s legs; tall and skinny, I finally could understand why he was an underwear model, his penis was big as well as his butt was hard and well-built.
That was a rainy night in downtown, I guess everybody was locked in their homes and preparing dinner, we were preparing something equally tasty.
He stood in front of me when getting out of the bath wearing just a towel in which he fitted perfectly. “You are beautiful”, said I, and he smiled. The lights were dim when he lied on his back under the covers, took a little notebook from his leather bag and tried to write something, I rushed in star-naked but didn’t touch his skin though I still had the hard-on. Softly and trying not to look so willing, he moved his legs slowly so he could touch mine as well and feel my hot tender parts. I got closer and started caressing his chest. Soon my hand was going down his belly, and when the moment arrived, I started touching him while he tried to focus on the writing. What wonderful things was he writing? What took him out of his mind and made him the most quiet person I'd ever met? His thoughts were hard when my hand grabbed them, big thoughts that made me go downwards under the covers and, in the shade, I found again the nice words that grew even bigger in my mouth.
His body was so well shaved that anybody could lead a pen over his skin and write sex poems. I wanted to try it out so I pulled the covers and made him reveal his whole humanity in front of me. He did nothing but enjoy what was coming soon: my tongue wrote some stories on his back - which was well-built for the time he used to spend at the gymnasium - held his legs up to the air so the wind could take the scent of the words. My fingers went around as a dancing doll as he closed his eyes and moaned softly. He didn’t need to see, but feel.
“I like your hair”, said I in a strange moment of weakness, because I didn't like to say things like that. We kissed long and deep and my tongue imitated the moves of his pen over the little notebook.
We watched the mirror that was looking at us, I could guess an envy in its eyes. "It's nice to be real..." he mumbled as we fell upon the bed that rainy night when I tried to caress his hair, but couldn't 'cause did not want to look so warm. I just did not want him to fall in love with me... but what happened was something completely different.
