Diamond Shadows
Julian was sitting in the library reading Paradise Lost and sipping Drambuie when Magnus excused himself to announce that Mr. Robertson -- from last night -- was at the door and looking none too well.
Show him in Magnus, Julian commanded.
Yes, Sir, Magnus bowed and was soon returned with a very beaten Townsend Robertson.
Oh, Julian, he cried, only last night I possessed all the world in your arms and had confidence in life's possibilities. But now all is lost.
Sit down, Julian said, indicating the leather arm chair facing him, and he poured a small snifter of Drambuie and offered it to Townsend who took it and relaxed when he felt its burn.
Now, tell me what has you so distraught, and after a long draw on the hookah and a draft of hashish smoke, Julian handed the hookah to Robertson. Robertson interrupted himself long enough, drew in some smoke. It kicked him in the throat and he coughed until it felt like he had turned himself inside out and back again.
Well, well, Julian said when Robertson had finished his tale. It may not be so bad as all that.
Robertson looked at him at first uncomprehendingly, and then with a weird sense that Julian was saying something more than he was saying, but Townsend could only guess what -- and that just might be his wish, not at all what really was.
But he read a bond with him into everything Julian said and did, and he was right. Julian was figuring something out. Quite deliberately, after an instant's thought, he removed a small silver chain from his jacket pocket. Hanging from one end was a small sparkling diamond in a silver setting.
Julian let the pendant hang and gently began to swing the chain in front of Robertson's eyes, and Robertson was too worn out and worn down to do anything but follow the swing of the pendant. As he swung the jewel gently back and forth, Julian schemed. Townsend was potentially suicidal. He was manically manufacturing delusions to avoid the pain of focusing on his actual situation. He told Julian how he had gone to the bedside of a dying, lost, great uncle in Rotterdam and been promised, with the man's dying breath, that his immense fortune would devolve to him now that he had been found.
But there was no uncle, and there was no fortune and he had not been to Rotterdam, but only Washington, where he learned that placing his trust in his uncle's daughter and her husband was misplacing his trust. They had outsmarted him legally and sold Townsend Enterprises and all its military capability to Dalwymple. And now he, who had used money as an infinitely renewable resource was suddenly without it. He had been lax with his fortune, he had shared his power, and now he was without both fortune and power.
That meant he had absolutely no basis for knowing who he was^Åexcept, perhaps for his lust. Julian had seen the extent of the eroticism in his disposition. If he no longer could subsist on money, he would have to subsist on love. And Julian's shrewd guess was that he would.
Follow the light from the diamond, Townsend. Follow the light from the diamond. That's right. Your eyes are burning. They can't help following the light from the diamond. Feel the diamond light pressing against your eyes now, so bright your lids droop. Your eye lids are heavy. It is cool underneath your eyelids. They droop and fall shut, now, fall shut over the diamond light which is now inside you. You hear the diamond light in my voice. You see the diamond light in my voice. You are drawn to my voice. You listen for my commands. You obey my commands. You long for me to command you. You know that I am your master and you are ready to submit. Say it.
As if he were awake, Townsend repeated Julian's words: I know that you are my master, and I am ready to submit to you.
Stand up, then, Julian commanded and remove your tie and jacket. Unbutton your shirt now and strip yourself to the waist.
Robertson stood before him again, and Julian encircled the back of his head with the palm of his hand and moved his face very near his own.
You feel the diamond light behind your eyes, he whispered and then began biting kisses off his lips. Townsend felt himself devoured and was in raptures of total submission.
I must follow this man, his body told him. I belong to him. I must be worthy of him. It thrills me to serve him.
He was writhing under Julian's kisses and returning them with an intensity he had never allowed himself to feel.
6
Julian's house on Mykonos sits on top of a hill where goats pasture and olive trees twist and lemon trees give shade.
It is a steep, rocky path up to the house from the crescent shaped harbor lined with cafés, and even at eleven in the morning it is very hot. Eleven at night, under a full moon, you can see the sea and the sky stretch out forever.
A candle flamed behind a glass mantle on a marble top table on a terra cotta stone terrace. Julian stood looking out at the sea, bare-chested, sipping a cognac and smoking a joint.
Robertson sat naked but for a black thong quietly on a low stone wall nearby gazing peacefully into the flame.
You've endured quite a bit, my boy, but I think you will come out of it alright. You are shedding your old self and adjusting to a new one.
I feel the strength of your mind Julian. I feel it pressing against my own and reshaping it.
Come here, Julian said softly.
Robertson rose and walked over to where Julian was standing by the wall at the opposite end of the terrace atop the flight of stone steps, looking out to the sea and the stars and a platinum moon.
Thank you, Julian. I hope I can be worthy of you.
Julian took hold of his wrist and pressed his arm to his side.
You don't know anything, he said. Your mind is empty. You are disappearing.
And it seemed to be so. Townsend's eyes became frozen in his face. They were like two sky-blue marbles in the liquid field of a blue whiteness. His lashes were long and hung above them like valences.
Julian put his lips to the eyelashes and then kissed the eye lids and then slid his mouth down to Townsend's and felt him drawn to him with kisses pulled from the throat. Julian put his palm round Townsend's balls, and Townsend swooned and the eyes fell backwards into his head.
The morning broke with crowing cocks and braying asses but the two men slept deep in each other's arms dreaming of each other. Two well wrought men with steel muscles, lean and firm and carved, connoisseurs of camp, lay like lambs or infants, simply asleep, figures of pure beauty and gentleness: each, the thing itself, unaccomodated man.
The world was not, however, very far away, and always there are accommodations that have to be made.
Languidly Robertson stretched and rolled over. He saw Julian lying peacefully next to him.
What a bizarre and wonderful evening I have had....but such dreams.
He lay quietly on his side gazing at Julian's profile and wondered what vapors had shaped his midnight miasma. Vaporous although it must have been, it had seemed so real. But what was important was that Julian was no dream, he was real, and now he stirred.
Bending his head over Julian's chest and gently worshiping his beautiful nipple with kisses, Robertson told him of his dreams, or at least the confused images he could remember. He sat up and said how funny the mind could be, what tricks it played while one was sleeping.
We shall fix that, Julian said and drew Robertson down to him and kissed him, penetrating his lips and fucking the roof of his mouth with his tongue.
A hot sun already shone in the long Aegean sky of saturated blue as they sat breakfasting on the terrace. Robertson felt fear. He hadn't before with Julian. But now he did, inarticulate fear. It shook his body and he exercised every control at his command to make sure it did not show. It was exciting. It was a sign of Julian's power, just like the leather collar round his neck and his pierced right nipple. His cock was standing up and it strained against the black leather thong he had on.
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