Into the Lion's Den (11 page)

The man took a big towel and dried Guntram as you would do with a small child, looking very carefully every detail in the youth's slender body. Wrapping them both in towels, he led them to his bed where Guntram took silk pyjamas and put them on without saying a word. He went into bed silently, tucking himself under the covers still shocked at what he had done and with whom he had done it. Embarrassed, he turned around in the bed, trying to escape the man and hide the knot he felt constricting his throat and the tears willing to fall from his eyes.

Constantin immediately felt that something was very wrong with his young lover. Had he overdone it?

After all, the boy had no experience at all and from a few kisses to oral sex in the shower, was an important jump for someone so prejudiced as him. He carefully placed an arm over the tiny waist and spooned his body against the boy's back. “Are you all right, little one? Have I made you feel uncomfortable?” He said as softly as he could.

“No, you did nothing,” the saddest voice he ever heard answered.

“Why are you on the brink of tears?”

“I'm not. You must be thinking that I'm a whore by doing all this,” he partly cried.

“You? Never. We both wanted and we both enjoyed this. Believe me, I've seen countless whores in my life and you're the sweetest creature I've ever seen. It's impossible not to love you the minute you see yourself in your eyes. Guntram, don't you ever think about yourself like that because you're a pure soul, nothing that can be stained or corrupted,” Constantin intoned softly, almost cursing himself for having bared his soul to the shy boy, ruining his original strategy.

“Do you really think that?”

“Yes, I do. With all my heart.”

“This month I couldn't stop thinking about you all the time. I think I'm falling for you, Constantin,” He whispered before falling asleep in the Russian's arms.

“I love you, Guntram,” he whispered as he petted the head cuddled against his chest. “You have no idea how much I do. I won't let you go away.”

Chapter 5

The silken sheets and the comfortable mattress made Guntram realise that he was not in his bed much before he opened his eyes to the new day. Nearly jumping out of the bed from the shock, he remained very quiet to realise several more things. First, it wasn't his room at all, not even the guest room in which he had already slept twice. Second, the decoration was far richer and luxurious than said guest room, as if that could be possible. Third, the pictures on the walls were not abstract as he had believed last night, proving him how trashed he had been, but an incredible Quinquela Martín and a three very delicate Raúl Soldi, if he was correct. Fourth, Constantin was nowhere to be seen or heard in the room or the bathroom. Fifth, the sun was up.

Guntram buried his head in his hands as he remembered all what he had done—drunk but not to the point of the oblivion—with Constantin and how he had enjoyed, contrary to his original idea. “Shit!” he mumbled softly. “I'm in deep shit,” he repeated squeezing his eyes, to escape the images assaulting him and the headache killing him too with the pain and nausea. For a second he wished to undo all what had occurred but he knew it was impossible. He took a deep breath, decided to face whatever could be waiting for him outside that room. Constantin had told him that he didn't want him at all. It was just an adventure.

“You look more relaxed this morning boss,” Oblomov commented, trying to sound like a little lamb.

“Yes, thank you,” Constantin answered, giving all his attention to the coffee.

“Not as good as you imagined?”

“Better actually. Ivan Ivanovich, I don't ask you such private questions.”

“Did you score at all?” Oblomov gloated, skeptical that his boss had turned into a gentleman who kissed and didn't tell.

“He's off limits for you and the others. Understand it once and forever. Is that clear?” Constantin stated very seriously. “Do I ask you what you do with your wife, Ivan Ivanovich?”

“No, boss. I apologise if my words were offensive to the lad. I had no intention at all,” Oblomov quickly said as he understood the message; the boy was not a simple fling for a night and he was going to be placed over the status of lover. Where? That remained to be seen, but at the moment he was certainly along with the wives and should be respected. Oblomov decided to keep his gaze down as the furious expression dangling in Constantin's eyes was a very bad omen. He took his laptop out of his briefcase and plunged himself into Petrobras latest data.

Guntram got finally dressed, with his hair combed, after nearly dying of shame when he saw the hickey on the right side of his neck. For the tenth time, he pulled up the collar of his shirt in a vain attempt to hide it but it was useless. After finishing tying up his shoe laces, he asked himself how he was going to face Constantin. 'With the same face you have, what's done is done, Guntram. You screw it up and all by yourself,' his inner voice informed him very clearly. 'You liked it, didn't you? Take it as an experience and go home because the man already told you this is nothing else but an adventure.' “At least I wasn't so drunk that I can't remember a thing, but this will not be something to tell my children about,” he whispered to the floor. “Hormones and alcohol are bad advisers,” 'Let's admit it Guntram, the problem are not your hormones, but the fact that you fear he will send you home and be done with you.'

“Shut the fuck up,” Guntram growled at his own conscience. “Fucking superego. I'm not in love with a man!”

Going trough the long corridor from the private stances to the living room and dinning room was a slow torture for Guntram as he didn't remember it to be so long. 'It's not long, it's that you walk slowly, Guntram. Like a dead man walking,' his conscience again told him. Standing in front of the door he fought again with his demons, 'how can Fefo do this every weekend? He fucks and even has breakfast in the morning with the girl. Yeah, that's the key word here. The girl, not the guy who you were giving head the previous night.'

Decided to finish it as soon as possible, he knocked on the door and Constantin’s voice only said something in Russian. Hoping that the phrase would be the equivalent of a “come in”, Guntram opened the door and entered the room where Constantin and Oblomov were sitting, still having breakfast and obviously in the middle of a business meeting.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you, Constantin. I just wanted to say good-bye. I go home now,” Guntram spoke mortified. “Thank you for the book.”

“Come, sit and have breakfast. I should get used to using English more. You don't understand Russian at all.”

“No, please. I don't want to importunate you. You're working. Good-bye.”

“All right. Come back at around five, Guntram.”

Guntram only nodded, willing to leave the room more than anything in his life, nearly tumbling with his feet in his haste to disappear.

“I've seen shy people, but this one takes the big prize,” Oblomov chuckled visibly entertained at the bad time the boy seemed to have.

“Let him be, Ivan Ivanovich,” Constantin grunted, still crossed that his angel had refused a direct invitation to stay once more. Tell Irina to remind him to be here at five.”

“Boss, with all due respect, this one will not take orders from you. You have already seen it. Artists are temperamental and whimsical.”

“Not the real ones. He just needs to be tamed. That's all. He's only nineteen.”

“That's robbing the cradle boss,” Oblomov laughed.

Guntram hoped to evade George, his more than intruding neighbour, but it was impossible. At 1:00, the man was standing in front of his door while he was checking some CV's model in his old laptop.

“Well, look here's the party boy!” He sauntered, entering like a whirlwind in his small flat, the dog barking behind him and running to jump into Guntram's untouched bed.

“I did nothing!” Guntram answered very fast.

“Yesterday was your birthday, wasn't it? I waited for you with a cake, all excuses are good for a monster calorie intake, but you never showed up.”

“Sorry, I didn't know it. I was…”

“At your own party, it seems,” George chortled. “By the look of your neck, it was quite a party, boy,” he playfully added, enjoying the words and the blush creeping in Guntram's cheeks.

“Mosquito bite.”

“Child, you have so much to learn to proficiently lie to me. That's a love bite and made by a man, if I might say,” he sauntered.

“Are you in the CSI now?” Guntram yelled, losing his politeness for the first time since they had known each other.

“Oops, I hit very close. Did you blow the candles too?”

“Fuck you!”

“Was the cream not to your taste?” George said, this time seriously. “Don't take it on me.”

“I'm sorry, George. I'm a total yokel. I didn't mean to yell at you,” Guntram apologised regretting his harsh words toward a man who had always been very generous and kind to him.

“No, just shout me vulgarly,” he snorted. “Come on, you can tell papa George what you have been doing because you didn't sleep here. I won't judge you, mostly because I have no stones left to cast.”

“You were right,” Guntram whispered, sitting in front of his small table and silently inviting George to do the same. The man left the cake he had in the hands and sat.

“It looks like confession time, Guti.”

“It is.”

“Then, I'll make some tea for us and serve the cake. Things don't look so dramatic in front of a cup of tea,” he said while he stood up and dashed to the kitchenette to boil the water, get two mugs left over from the

“Colombian Coffee” promotion. George made a face at the cheap brand for tea, but let it go as he put one teabag in each cup.

“So you can tell your big sins to Uncle George. School parties can be very wild. I remember when I was in…”

“It was no one from the school, and you're right. It was a man. A real man.”

“You were always telling me that you liked girls, a real pity if you want to know. Who was it? A teacher from the University? A customer from that sorry place you were working?”

“The later,” Guntram confessed starting to feel very uncomfortable and willing to jump inside of the steaming tea cup.

“Dr. Zhivago?” George nearly shouted, but Guntram only blushed more, rowing the cup with his spoon.

“Shit! Well, my boy, you have an excellent taste if you allow me to say so. That guy is really hot with those dark eyes and long eyelashes. The accent also helps too… Wait a minute. Was he not back in Russia?”

“I guess so. He came here for my birthday, we had champagne, too much and one thing led to the next and before I knew I was in the shower doing you know what. Well, you know better than I,” Guntram spat the words very nervously.

“No, I don't know. I wasn't there. Pity. The guy flew from Russia just to be on your birthday? Shit Guntram! I was glad if one of my boyfriends was sending me a postcard or giving me a phone call!”

“That's because your date of birth is Top Secret for everyone who knows you.”

“Don't change the subject. You won't escape from me. All right, you were doing “what I know about”

with him… Did you like it?”

“Yes, very but it's not supposed to be so!

“How's supposed to be? Don't tell me you're into masochism and need to have it bad!”

“NO, no, no… It's just I don't know why I did it. At the moment it seemed a great idea and then, I don't know, it just hit me that I only knew him for a few days and there I was sucking him like…”

“Only oral sex? Are you making such a big deal for a little oral sex? I was thinking that you have done much more.”

“Well, for me it was much more! I've done nothing with anyone ever before!” Guntram shouted.

“YOU DID NOTHING BEFORE?” The coiffeur yelled incredulously with Lola howling in unison.

“My landlady didn't hear you George. Can you shout a bit louder? No, I'm a fucking, freaky virgin with men.”

“You were in a boarding school, Guntram.”

“I did nothing there. It wasn't appealing at that time. Besides, all my friends were more into getting the poor girls in the neighbourhood than banging each other. You read too many novels about boarding schools. Nothing glamorous or sexy. Just a bunch of smelly teenagers fighting to get the biggest piece of meat in the canteen.”

“All right, after you have destroyed one of my fantasies, tell me what have you been doing.”

“I slept with Constantin, the Russian. In his bed.”

“Good choice, the bed I mean. Tables are overestimated and standing is not so great. You get cramps in the morning.”

“George! I've just told you I slept with a man!”

“Do you want a medal or what? I offered to hook you up with several of my friends, Guntram. Pedro is absolutely crazy about you and he's only thirty years old…”

“This was never supposed to happen! He told me it was just an adventure. I behaved like a whore and he won't like me ever again!”

“What did you exactly do?”

“We kissed on the sofa and then had oral sex in the shower. We slept together in the bed.”

“Only that? That's the minimum you get on a date nowadays.”

“Excuse me if I didn't do all whatever you are supposed to do! I slept in the same bed with him!”

“All right, you're not going to tell the whole story. What happened in the morning. What did he say?”

“Have breakfast with me. I refused and then he said come back at five. I'm not going.”

“Guntram, the doctor dropped you on your head when you were born… And then, you fell from a tree several times. Daily, I daresay. He asked you to stay and you left; then he tells you to come back and you don't want…

and you come crying to me because he only wants an adventure with you? Dear, you're behaving like the slut here.

Some sex and you run in the morning? You got your fun and disappear without an explanation?”

“He does not want me around!”

“And invites you for later? Normally, what you get is one croissant, some orange juice, a greasy coffee and an ‘I'll call you later’, line. Wash yourself, wear something nice, not those rags you like so much. Honestly you were looking much better in the waiter's uniform. No, better I'll choose something for you.”