Perfect Freedom (33 page)

“Wow,” Yanni cried. “I'm Superman. Here I come.” He put on a burst of speed.

Robbie swept his hands up over his body and pulled his shoulders back and looked down at his handiwork. The long slim erection was airborne, flying as straight as an arrow to its destination. It pierced the air. Robbie nuzzled his neck and moved his hands everywhere on the naked body and laughed.

“Jeez, I never been so excited,” Yanni shouted. “We better stop fooling around on this thing.” He veered off the road and roared up an incline into the trees and came to a jolting halt. “Okay. Nobody'll bother us here.”

They dismounted. Yanni did something to the motorcycle that made it stand and wait for them. He looked outrageously naked in the loose disarray of his clothes. Robbie was seized in a wiry embrace and his mouth was invaded by a lively tongue. Yanni opened his shorts and withdrew his erection and pulled back.

“Jeez. You got a cock. I never seen a bigger one. Take your clothes off. I want a good look at you.”

Robbie shed his brief garments. He loved being naked out of doors. He loved being told he had a big cock. “I'm about to come,” he said urgently.

“Good. You come when I do.” Yanni moved around behind him and squeezed his buttocks. “What a body. I've got myself an ass. Quick. You suck me off and then I'll take you somewhere I can fuck you silly.”

“I hope so.”

“No problem. I can make it five times in a row easy, specially with a guy like you.”

When Robbie was returned to the beached dinghy, he didn't feel that his education had been much advanced by the experience. He still didn't know the difference between homosexuality and what they'd been doing, although there obviously was one. Yanni had said enough to indicate that girls weren't excluded from his life but Robbie couldn't imagine a more satisfying lover except for his Greek refusal to take his cock into his mouth. He no longer needed any confirmation of the fact that men who seemed normal wanted him. Why? He still needed somebody to talk to. He needed Carl. At least Yanni hadn't made him feel guilty. They had had a nice friendly time together.

The weather turned unfavorable. The Coslings continued to run into stiff winds and rough seas that slowed their progress. They were close to Delos but it was taking forever to get there. Carl was on all their minds although his name wasn't mentioned. Stuart was afraid he'd think them unfriendly if they didn't show up. Helene thought of his last outrageous remark. If it weren't for that, she wouldn't want to see him again. Robbie simply wondered. They all agreed that they couldn't miss Delos.

They finally sighted it across a tumultuous sea and the first person they saw as they pulled in beside the protection of its dock was Carl von Eschenstadt in crisp white shorts and shirt.

“You're late,” he called. “I've been waiting for weeks.”

Stuart was too busy helping to tie up the boat to notice the slightly wild note in Helene's laughter.

“We've had the most awful weather,” she said when the flurry of arrival was over and Carl was waiting for the gangplank. “We planned to get here four days ago.”

“I've always thought she was a good sailor until the last few days. She's been as nervous as a cat,” Stuart said jokingly as he gave von Eschenstadt a hand to help him aboard.

“Ah, so?” He glanced quickly from one to the other and then gave Stuart a hug, shook hands with Helene, smiled at Robbie, and mussed his hair. “I'm sorry. However, you are here. I was afraid you weren't coming. Ah, the beautiful handsome Coslings. I am so happy to see you again.” It was a joyful reunion. He told them that he had decided to go to France the following month and that if he liked St. Tropez he might try to find a small house to rent. The friend he was staying with here was away for a few days so he was completely at their disposal. He was eager to show them the sights.

“It is fantastic,” he exclaimed. “Wait till you see the wonders that are here. They keep stumbling on more every day. Robbie specially—you will go mad about it.” He looked at Robbie in his tantalizing way.

Robbie felt a lift of excitement. He was aware of the knowledge he had acquired in the last few weeks. He was no longer daunted by an older man and was confident of being able to take him on as a sexual partner. Carl wasn't a homosexual but he was sure his sexual experience had been varied. He would be able to explain the things that were troubling him.

They lounged away the evening with tall drinks and a meal and talk. Helene frequently felt the German's eyes on her and she had to make an effort not to turn on him the look of withering scorn he deserved. Afraid of him, indeed! When he got caught up in a conversation with Stuart, she could allow herself the pleasure of watching the sparkle of his eyes, the flash of his white teeth, the gestures of his powerful hands, and the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders. He was a superb creature. It was somehow appropriate to find him here at the birthplace of Apollo. Robbie waited for the moment he was sure would come.

Carl came for them the next morning to go on a tour. As they approached the site, Robbie noticed a broken marble column that rose some ten feet against the sky. He did a double take before he felt the shock in the soles of his feet. It was a colossal phallus with giant testicles for a base. The others paid no overt attention to it and he hurried past. He was going to have to do some exploring on his own.

They saw all the major sights and then Carl led them on to the recent excavations in the less ancient area of the Roman resort. He made an admirable guide, a touch of poetry enlivening plentiful facts and figures.

“Now, look here,” he exclaimed. “Imagine the perfection of this patio and this row of columns when they were standing. Such harmony and space. This was a relatively modest private house. What do we have to compare to it today?”

“It reminds me a bit of home,” Stuart said with a wink at Robbie. “What does the master architect say?”

Robbie burst out laughing, imagining a giant phallus at the entrance to their property. Carl had been right: the place fascinated him. The cult of Apollo, the worship of beauty with its overtones of frank pagan eroticism, was everywhere in evidence. He felt a meeting of the sensual and the spiritual that reflected his own almost religious awe of the male body. He wasn't alone in worshiping at the phallic altar. The spiritual and the sensual—would he eventually find a balance that would absolve him of all guilt?

As they approached the entrance to another enclosure of tumbling walls, Carl stopped and held up his hand. “Now you shall see something,” he said impressively. “This is the sort of thing they turn up all the time.” He stood aside and gestured them in. There, propped up in a corner against some blocks of stone, was a superb marble male figure. “You see how like it is to the Belvedere Apollo?” Carl said. “Probably a contemporary copy on a small scale although the head is different and the cloak has been left off. The tragedy is that it will probably lie here indefinitely. We need another Napoleon to gather up the treasures of Europe and give them proper housing.”

“You might suggest it to Hitler,” Stuart remarked.

“He would put a fig leaf on it,” Carl said, making a face. He went to the statue and ran his hand lovingly over the neck and shoulders. Robbie's cock stirred. “Come, you must feel it. Beautiful creature, how I should love to own you.” They gathered around it in silent admiration.

“Do they really let things like this lie around here?” Stuart asked. “I should think they'd get stolen.”

Carl uttered his hearty laughter. “Try to lift it,” he said. “Of course, things do disappear and they call it stealing. The Greeks are poor, after all.”

“You mean they sell off things like this?”

“It happens. This isn't even classified yet. Do you want it? You could probably have it.”

“Shocking thought,” Stuart said with a smile of disbelief.

“That is one's first reaction. But I confess that if I had a home, I should make a serious effort to acquire it.”

“Why don't we take it?” Robbie said eagerly. The thought of owning it took his breath away.

“There is the realistic voice of youth,” Carl said, not disapprovingly.

“Darling, things like that are public property,” Helene objected.

“But Carl says—”

“I'm sure Carl doesn't mean half of what he says,” she said.

Carl met her eyes for an instant. “Ah, my dear Helene, I do,” he said. “I always mean exactly what I say.”

Stuart broke in. “If what you say is true, how would you go about getting hold of it?” The eagerness in Robbie's voice had prompted him to speak. He wanted to share the boy's enthusiasm; it was a reminder of the larks they had enjoyed together long ago.

“Are you serious, my friend?” Carl asked.

“Why not? Would it be expensive?”

“I would have to inquire. You know, you could get in trouble. Its disappearance might not be noticed at once but if it should be, any yacht that had been here would be suspect.”

“What would they do? Send a battleship after us?”

“Nothing as sensible as that. But they would certainly send out an order to every Greek port to search you.”

“What if we didn't put in at any Greek port?”

“That would be the best plan. Then your only problem would be to explain yourself to the customs of other nations. The Italians would undoubtedly think you had stolen it from them. I believe Mussolini is very touchy about such things.”

“Well, I suppose we could go straight home without stopping. I'd have to talk it over with Angelino.”

“Ah, I hope you do it. It would be like having another friend to visit at St. Tropez.”

“I think you're both mad,” Helene commented.

“Go ahead and see what you can find out about it.” Stuart turned to Robbie with a grin. “I hope this isn't going to start you off on a career of looting and larceny.”

“All it needs is ‘Souvenir of Athens' written on its stomach,” Robbie replied, laughing delightedly. It had occurred to him that making an uninterrupted run for home meant not seeing Theo again but that was already long ago. The statue was now. Carl was now.

They left the statue but it remained uppermost in their minds as they continued their tour. Robbie went back to look at it again before they returned to the boat for lunch. That evening, Carl reported that nine hundred dollars distributed judiciously among a few guards and an archeological official in residence would assure their safe departure with the treasure. They were all suddenly involved in a plot.

Angelino made no objection to sailing directly home, beyond pointing out that they would have to do without fresh food most of the way. Stuart decided that it would be unfair to implicate the crew in the theft so they had to work out a plan for getting the statue on board in secret. He and Robbie went over the boat, looking for a hiding place. Robbie, who knew the sculpture by heart now, assured his father that it would fit into a locker in the master cabin behind some clothes. Stuart had brief misgivings. What if bad weather or some breakdown forced them into a Greek port? Of course, they could always give it back and pay fines and treat it all as a joke—money would eventually smooth everything over—but mightn't it be more unpleasant than it was worth?

Robbie and Carl, as the chief instigators of the theft, wouldn't listen to objections. Their alliance was growing more pronounced. Helene observed it with displeasure. There was something vaguely troubling about a mature man behaving like the contemporary of a teenager. Why didn't Carl act his age? His innate flirtatiousness seemed to include everybody, even the boy. Only the fact that Robbie's heart was so obviously set on the statue kept her from rebuking Carl for encouraging him.

Over dinner, the two discussed their plan for taking on the illicit cargo. Carl knew a cove at the southern tip of the island. He thought he could arrange, for the fee agreed on, to have the statue delivered to the beach there in the next day or two. Once there, they could sail down and collect it.

“Dad doesn't want the crew to know about it,” Robbie pointed out.

“No, no. We'll say that we want to have a farewell party and leave the crew here for the evening at the tourist café. You come back and pick them up and sail away.”

“That sounds perfect.” Robbie directed all his delight at him. Their plot was giving them constant excuses to address each other, look into each other's eyes, even to touch each other to underline a point. Carl's eyes had become as easy to read as his own apparently were. Robbie didn't think he'd have to wait much longer.

Stuart wondered aloud if the whole deal might not be a setup in order to denounce them for a reward. Robbie found it typical of his father to propose the daring scheme and then vacillate when it came to carrying it out. He never seemed to know his own mind.

“What do you think, Carl?” Robbie asked.

“It is understood that no money will change hands until you're gone. I remain as a hostage for you.” He smiled around at the family circle and his eyes settled on its youngest member. Robbie felt as if he were being ensnared in bonds of steel. The eyes hypnotized him and bent him to their will. He knew that he would surrender to them even if it weren't in his nature to want him. His parents were witnesses to an indestructible pact. The eyes shifted from him. Talk continued, punctuated by Carl's easy laughter. Robbie felt a void where what he thought of as himself had been. The eyes returned to him and the void was filled.

The next morning, Robbie returned to the site to gloat over the statue. He could look at it with proprietary eyes now; it was all but theirs; nothing could go wrong. He shifted it carefully on its makeshift base to test its weight. It was heavy but the three of them could manage it. Its head came to his chest. He stroked the shoulders as Carl had done and the cool perfection of the marble seemed almost alive under his hands. He wondered where they could show it to its best advantage. Out of doors somewhere. It had to stand free so that it could be seen from every angle. The flowing line of the back was lovely.