The Alchemy of an Encounter Chapter 1
The Alchemy of an Encounter
by Lowell Mitford
Chapter 1 - Marbella
For Aurelio and his twenty-six year old outside accountant Aristeas, the mid-year review of Benicio's finances was taking longer than usual. This was the third full day, and it was already mid-July. Aurelio's allergy to air conditioning meant that meeting in the relative coolness of the cabaña, which was open on three sides and faced the pool, was a necessity. Numerous fans hummed between the billowing curtains.
In view of the unforgiving Spanish sun, Aurelio had urged Aristeas to forego the customary business attire, but his conservative accountant relented only so far as to wear sandals with his summer suit. Aurelio himself wore each day a little less – going from informal shirt and slacks on Wednesday, to T-shirt and shorts on Thursday. Today he wore lemon yellow swim trunks and the thinnest of ventilated wife-beaters – white and pale green. Tall, hairy, leonine, Aurelio looked as though he could rip off his spectacles and dive into the inviting pool at any moment. In the armchair next to him, the young blond account manager sweated into his pale vanilla summer suit. He looked miserable. Perspiration dampened his curly hair and trickled into his light beard and moustache.
As Aurelio had predicted, the review had been a "ball-breaker." The first day they had covered Benicio's film, TV and endorsement revenues, and yesterday his production company. This last day was to wrap up Benicio's personal expenses for the compound – unusually exorbitant in supporting the life styles of eight single men. While Aurelio reviewed numbers over his half glasses, Aristeas had nothing to do but await the next question, sip more water, and await the next question. He had already been to the restroom twice and hated to ask again. And he had nowhere to rest his eyes but on the hairy legs and taut belly of the thirty-eight year old business manager, for three years his most important client. Aristeas tried to focus his thoughts on his upcoming wedding less than six weeks away. Perhaps this would make his piss hard-on depart.
Aurelio was not really thinking of Ari. Aurelio, who had seduced many men, would later think of this campaign as his most covert, not only successfully concealing his tactics from Ari but astonishing even himself. Living in the compound in the shadow of Benicio's celebrity afforded Aurelio frequent opportunities to meet handsome men. They came and went quickly – often barely remarked. The business manager had appraised Ari's youth and apparent innocence at their first meeting, and thought, "I need a good accountant much more than a boy toy."
As Aristeas had hoped Aurelio did not mention luncheon; instead, a tray of sandwiches, shrimp and limeade appeared as if by magic, left within his easy reach. Out of politeness, Ari waited for Aurelio to look up before reaching. Aurelio smiled through perfect teeth, and said "Claro! I think we are about finished."
"Truly, Don Aurelio?" asked Ari. "I can do the car depreciation back at the office." Maria Pia was hoping I could swing by to plan more wedding details."
"You mean, to nod yes to her decisions?" laughed Aurelio. After all, it's going to be her special day."
"It's not a first wedding for her, Don Aurelio. But she wants to involved Clemencia as much as possible. Already the eight-year old treats me like a father. And it's special for me too. I was never sure I'd be getting married."
"But why?" asked Aurelio, genuinely amazed. "Last-minute jitters? You've worked too hard to succumb to casual temptations." He took a mouthful of cucumber sandwich.
Aristeas peeled a shrimp. "Really just doubts about myself. I never lived with another girl before Pia. And she is such a pro. She handles everything."
"Well," replied Aurelio jokingly, "If you're planning a mistress, the decent thing is to wait until after the honeymoon." He nudged Ari's leg with his bare foot.
"It's not like that. I want to be a good husband. It's just – so much of life seems like it's left unexplored. Foreclosed."
"So what's bothering you? You know I'm not just Beni's business manager. I trained as a therapist."
Ari began slowly, tentatively. "You know, when I was conceived, my father was already old. Then he died when I was young. My mamá did an excellent job for me. But without a husband. Without a father. I've never been held by a man, even."
"Would it help if I held you?" Aurelio asked gravely.
"Yes," Ari half-whispered, half-sobbed.
Aurelio rose and looked at Ari, tilting his head to the right. The sudden turn in the conversation had shocked him, and he tried to make light of a situation which for him was anything but new.
"Cuidado, muchacho. I'm an excellent teacher, but nothing that will help with a marriage. And if I hold you, I might not let you go."
Ari rushed in to embrace Aurelio like a thirsty man. Like a man who had just been rescued. He burst into embarrassed sobs. Aurelio held him tightly, stroking the back of Ari's neck more like a son than a lover, as the sobs continued. They stood like that a long time. The kiss, when it came, lasted just as long.
Ari's sobs subsided, but the strident erection he pressed against Aurelio did not. His head rested naturally against Aurelio's neck. Aurelio skillfully passed his fingers down the middle of Ari's back and with three fingers lightly grazed the cleft between Ari's cheeks through the tight fabric of the damp suit, triggering Ari's sudden orgasm.
"Hay, el culo!" Ari shouted. He swayed as if shaken by a god, gasping for breath.
After a long moment the older man sighed. "Take off the suit - it's soaked," he said. "And plan to stay over tonight. What you need to learn can't be taught in an afternoon. I'll get you some shorts from the big house."
Ari collapsed back into his chair as Aurelio walked away. He quickly returned in a fresh pair of lime green boxers, as Aristeas peeled off the sticky suit.
"The briefs too, demanded Aurelio. I've been watching that wet spot soaking though your crotch all morning."
Ari turned back after a quick strip and pressed his own reinvigorated erection against Aurelio's hairy belly, leaving a glistening trail. Aurelio embraced him firmly, looked deep into Ari's eyes, and kissed him hard, bruising Ari's lips with his teeth. "Into the pool, muchacho," Aurelio ordered. As Ari joyfully splashed into the welcoming waters of the Infinity pool, Aurelio rapidly lifted the stopper of the olive oil cruet next to the shrimp, bathing the three middle fingers of his right hand. Then, holding them carefully aloft, he strode round the pool to meet the swimmer, scooping up a bath towel which he then tossed to Ari. Preoccupied with drying his hair and crotch, Ari failed to notice Aurelio swiftly bring his fingers down to Ari's buttocks, then quickly inserting the middle and index fingers deep in Ari's ass.
"Stop, you crazy man!" hissed Ari. "You'll make me come again!"
"You'll do no such thing," growled Aurelio. "Not on my watch. First lesson of the day– delay gratification!" And with that Aurelio, with the confidence of a corsair, frog-marched the shocked younger man, still nude, up the steps into the house.
Victor and Pedro, the house handymen, had seen much working at the compound, but nothing quite like the stripped and dripping accountant with the erection, borne ahead of Aurelio like a trophy.
"Chicos," said Aurelio, "Don Aristeas and I will be working a little late. Two more for dinner." And so saying he escorted Ari upstairs, red-faced, to the master suite.
As Ari climbed the stairs, perplexed and embarrassed, he wondered what demons he had so unthinkingly invoked. Why had Aurelio done this so publicly? Did Aurelio care about him at all? It seemed to him his self-indulgent client had been risking nothing, while he, in sharing long-buried feelings, had put his reputation, his professional life, and above all, his marriage on the line. But what were his true feelings? He looked down at his raging erection, bouncing and leaking on the cool tiles, and his eyes blurred with tears. There seemed to be no doubt as to how he felt.
The interior of Benicio's suite was dark and cool. As the accountant's eyes tried focus in the dim light Aurelio tore the coverlet from the king-sized bed.
"Don Aurelio," Ari whispered. "What's going on? What happens now? I'm not ready."
"I know," responded the older man, and half-pushed, half slung Ari onto the cool sheets, where he landed belly first. "So now the next lesson – in grooming you for your partner." He slipped into the restroom, and returned with a dish of shaving soap, a brush, and a gleaming chrome razor. Grasping the accountant's pale, shivering hips in his muscular, hairy arms, he hauled Ari up on all fours, planting a deep kiss in the recesses of the younger man's ass crack. Ari moaned, recalling the words of Saint Theresa, "It was the sweetest caressing of the soul by God."
Aurelio, now nude, whispered in Ari's ear, "Not everyone enjoys olive oil back there. But me – I'm Mediterranean." Laughing softly, he began to apply the warm shaving soap with the brush, nudging Ari with his knee into a shaft of light that lit the golden hairs coating Ari's crack, his taint, and the golden strands coating his balls. Thrusting Ari's head down on the bed with his powerful left hand, and slipping a soft towel under Ari's privates, Aurelio murmured, "Now you need to hold still more than you have ever held in your young life. My eyes are old. And razors slip."
"But-but – if you shave me – what about my honeymoon? Pia will suspect."
Aurelio laughed. "Suspect what, that you became a gentlemen for her out of modesty? And I doubt you will present yourself in this position."
A few minutes under Aurelio's practiced hand, and Ari's smooth, denuded balls, taint and crack gleamed. Aurelio slapped Ari's butt cheek playfully. "Now where did I leave off? Ah – here's our place," said Aurelio, and began to bathe Ari's rectum with his tongue, with infinite tenderness and slowness. Ari strained to reach the pillow so his moaning, growing louder, could not be heard. Aurelio burrowed further, spreading Ari's cheeks until he felt torn almost in half. The tongue lashing seemed to go on and on, and sent shafts of ice and fire all the way through Ari's body.
When Ari was utterly relaxed – so relaxed he was almost asleep on his knees – Aurelio again whispered urging him not to move. He retrieved another small vial of oil and a gleaming blunted dagger in molded and faceted crystal (one of Benicio's many film awards) from the dresser. He appeared to know the room well. Warming the oil with his hands he applied a little more to Ari's anus. Then, inch by inch, he began to insert the cool faceted glass into Ari's ass. Ari's erection returned in full force, and strained against the sheets, leaking. He remembered alternately panting and invoking God and His saints – in vain. After several insertions, Aurelio skillfully angled the thick ribbed glass deep inside Ari, so that it grazed his prostate. Ari gave a full - throated cry, and his rectum involuntarily clenched against the warming invader. Aurelio quickly withdrew the glass, then – when Ari was still once more, returned it to the same depth and angle, again bringing the faceted glass against the smooth wall of Ari's prostate in a minute sawing motion. In a climactic frenzy, Ari began to come, shooting load after load against the pillows and sheets, his face a silent rictus. Withdrawing the toy, Aurelio clasped him tight, then shifted his weight and his own powerful sex against Ari's smooth back as Ari fell into blissful sleep.
As Ari slumbered at his side, Aurelio studied intently the face of the young man he imagined he would not see again. He loved this part – sacrificing sleep to study the face of the absent, sleeping beauty, rendered more beautiful by the absence of pain or desire. He felt himself to be not Aurelio but Aurora, and this his Endymion by moonlight. Ari slept mostly without moving, with occasional quiet, fitful snoring. The last brief snore turned into a cough, awakening him, and he sat bolt upright, suddenly wide-eyed.
"Pia!" he exclaimed, "My God, how late is it? I have to text her!" They threw on robes from Benicio's extensive collection, and padded barefoot downstairs. The other men of the all-male household had already eaten and retired in ones or twos for the night, ostensibly giving Aurelio privacy. As Aurelio gathered their soiled clothes in the pool cabaña, Ari texted a long, tender lie to his fiancée, pleading the pressure of the review and the lateness of the hour. Pia would know this client's importance, however much the reason for that importance might be shifting under his feet. Because of the demands of their separate careers he and Pia were not yet living together. For now he would be excused, and safe.
The men emptied leftover pasta and ham from the refrigerator and ate it cold, their feet touching under the table. Ari studied Aurelio, his elbow propped on the marble table and his hand buried in his cheek. Aurelio mussed Ari's hair, then reflexively smoothed it again.
Finally Ari broke the silence with a chuckle. "Well, how much did we cover?" Percentage-wise."
Aurelio examined him coldly. "Ten percent tops, compadre. Another ten before morning. Percentage-wise."
"So much to learn," Ari murmured admiringly. "How will I bear not seeing you again?"
"You'll drink from other fountains, hijo," Aurelio said quietly. "I don't date married men."
"Is this a date?" said Ari mockingly. "I thought it was a business dinner."
"Horse's ass," replied Aurelio.
They cleared the dishes, then padded quietly down another corridor, to Aurelio's own domain.
Light came from under the bathroom door, and from the large tank of exotic fish which was the frugal Aurelio's principal extravagance. He relished making love under their perpetually shifting gaze.
They showered together, then dried each other between prolonged kisses. The laundry bills must be extraordinary, thought Ari, before dismissing this item of accounting. In his bathrobe once more, Aurelio led Ari naked to a bench at the food of the double bed, where they resumed their embraces. Confident now, Ari grasped at Aurelio's massive column of flesh beneath the robe, as it rose to impressive proportions. Ari eased onto the bed, a bolster behind his head, allowing the older man to explore his new-found smoothness.
Aurelio was delighted to find that his beautiful green-eyed lover smelled and tasted exactly like fresh-ground cinnamon, a phenomenon he had noted in only a very few. He found the sensation intoxicating and lingered where it seemed to be present. As Aurelio might have predicted, Ari proved to be a cuddler. Their lovemaking done, Ari nestled his head deep in the older man's armpit and plummeted into sleep.
When Aurelio encountered a new partner, he tended always to exhaust him completely. Then while his companion slept the sleep of the profoundly satisfied, Aurelio would lie awake, endlessly going over the new one's potential and shortcomings. By dawn the work would usually be done. Calculations and projections completed, Aurelio could bid the new prospect farewell with a clear conscience.
Aristeas, however, presented a complex set of variables, with many unknowns. For instance, he thought, was Ari clearly smitten with him, or with a mysterious new world of male encounters only? Could such raw energy in a younger man be tamed to lasting advantage? Judging even by the world of the flesh, where competitive bouts fell invariably to the sensual and the strong, would he be wrong to snatch this candidate away from the brink of unthinking domesticity? Aurelio had met Maria Pia briefly, and he did not imagine her the type to go quietly, if at all.
Aurelio's self-imposed rule against married men was iron-clad because he refused to offer himself up as a convenience. He was not possessive, and he really did not care with whom his lovers spent their time when they were not with him. But his patience for the psycho-dramas of others was extremely limited. In evaluating men, especially employees, his friend Benicio liked to ask a recurring question: Was he a man I could summon up against the Persians? Meaning, of course, was this a man of unyielding character and strength? In the brief interval allotted to them, could he train Ari to be a Spartan? Even at Thermopylae, they had had more time to prepare.
At dawn, Ari coughed, shifted, glanced fleetingly at Aurelio, groaned, and turned away. To the young man, the morning world suddenly seemed a much more complex place than it had the previous day, and he greeted it with gratitude, shame, and dread, in equal proportions. This Aurelio found immensely consoling, because it suggested the complexities had resolved themselves and matters were at an end. He gave Ari gym clothes to wear home, put his suit in a bag for the cleaners, and made espresso for two in Benicio's room. The men of the house were stirring downstairs, and Aurelio avoided the kitchen and dining room, taking Ari instead to the small garden patio looking onto the pool. Clearly there was to be no farewell kiss. All was going well until Ari, the cup shaking in his hands as he sat again on the bench next to him, suddenly blurted out "Don Aurelio, when can I see you again?" As Aurelio looked at him in horror, Ari got down on one knee, almost as though comically proposing. Ari, his face now so close to Aurelio's he could feel the hot breath on his cheek, looked at the older man and said with deadly earnestness, "You now, Don Aurelio, I have to see you again. I have to." Aurelio considered a humorous reply, but realized that in Ari's moment of naked honesty a joke now would be cruel – devastatingly so.
"No more Don Aurelio, chico. That's for business. My men friends call me Jefe. Of course, we'll all be at the wedding."
Ari backed away as though he had been struck, then said with great finality, as though pronouncing judgment, "The wedding be damned." He took a few paces down the driveway, his laundry bag over his shoulder.
"Until later then, Jefe," he called back. And smiled.
* * *
In the ensuing seven days, Aristeas smashed his career, his relationships and his life into bits and danced a fandango on the pieces. Indeed, by early Thursday morning he had broken with Maria Pia, emptied his bank account to reimburse her the costs of a wedding laid out far in an advance and now unrecoverable, and, at Pia's insistence, said a tearful farewell to eight-year old Clemencia, who gave every appearance of being heart-broken at losing him. His senior partner summoned him for a confidential discussion, and while commending him on the latest client review (with which Benicio had been well pleased), told him that the reports reaching the partners anonymously of Ari's improper relations with a client were most unsatisfactory and distressing. (These had come, Ari believed, not from Pia herself but from one of several angry and self-righteous friends of hers, who had had every reason to be angry and vindictive toward him on her behalf.)
Late Thursday afternoon he went to the most secluded nearby beach, stripped to his cache-sexe, and sat mournfully on a pile of rocks facing the sea. The wind was from North Africa and the air was full of dust, through which the sun nevertheless beat down fiercely. He had come thus dressed not seeking anonymous sex, but only to punish himself, and to see if anything remaining of his being could be detected without stripping off the skin. He felt as though he was plunging voluntarily down a windy stone shaft to the center of the earth, while backdrafts dashed him cruelly against the sides. Who was he? What had come over him? Each thought, each recollection was like scraping below the epidermis.
When he returned to the deathly quiet of his third-floor walk-up, he lay on the sofa for a long time, still covered in dust and grit. He had now only one thought – not so much a thought as a desperate hope – and that was that Aurelio would see him and tell him who he was. Now only Aurelio could remake him into who he must become. He texted him a note: Jefe, may I please see you tomorrow on a matter of the utmost urgency? Your friend, Ari. Moments later came the reply: Come at four after siesta. No promises. Aurelio.
* * *
Whenever Benicio returned from shooting his television series in Madrid, the first thing he wanted to hear was the gossip. On the Monday after Aurelio's encounter with the young accountant, the actor breezed in accompanied by the chauffeur, his security man and too much luggage, calling to Aurelio from the stair, "Anything to tell me?"
"An earful," replied Aurelio gloomily.
"Bueno!" Benicio called from above. "See you at 11:15 – after my agent."
Benicio lived above all to hear the romantic travails of his numerous friends and protegés. Before his success as an actor his own life had been nothing if not picaresque, and his present good fortune meant that he gave most reports a humorous or an ironic gloss. The actor listened to El Jefe's account sitting dramatically on a corner of his desk, arms crossed, all ears. When Aurelio reached the point where his young friend burst into tears on being held, he exclaimed, "Hay, Madre Mio. Jefe, you've got yourself a real Llorona!"
Finally, when Aurelio reached the end of the story and Ari's dramatic ultimatum about his wedding, Benicio whooped, "Jefe, you have stepped into it for real this time. This one is not coming off your shoe so easily!" Then, cackling, he slipped into the ornate bathroom and took a leak.
Aurelio passed the entire week in blissful ignorance of Aristeas' downfall, and his plight. Then came the thunderbolt on Thursday.
Before meeting Ari, Aurelio changed into his tightest jeans and a low-cut white T-shirt with leather belt. On his feet were worn black velvet slippers with the Spanish coat of arms in brocade, a gift from Benicio. He rarely smoked, but brought along a highest quality Cuban cigar. He looked very much the Chief.
After hearing Ari out, for some twenty or thirty minutes, he trimmed the cigar, puffed it slowly, and at length he spoke. His unyielding look told Ari he should keep strict silence until invited to speak.
"Don Aristeas," he said with mock dignity, "Your situation is terrible. I am a compassionate man, and I feel this now for you, very much. At this moment, though, I would like to establish a few essential principles. First, your work situation can be easily remedied. I think it is time you came in-house and worked exclusively for me, at this enterprise. I spoke last night to Beni about just this, and he agrees. There will be a fee payable to your partners for raiding a recently trained accountant so soon. I will pay this personally, and you will reimburse me. This should be easier for you because Beni agrees you should live on the compound. Your living expenses the first year should be negligible."
"Second, let's turn to your personal situation. In this I feel I must be a little brutal, and ask you frankly what it is, at this precise moment, that you want."
Surprised, Ari looked at him in stunned silence. His brow furrowed.
Aurelio looked at him. "You are not sure?"
Ari looked down. A single tear slid across his cheek. "To be with you."
"But in what capacity. Do you even know? At the risk of shocking you, I must be plain, and ask a practical question. Are you a bottom or are you a top?"
"I- I don't know. . . I –"
"No, of course you don't. Your knowledge of male love, except for one night, is non-existent."
Ari was silent.
"Perhaps we should send you on a journey of self-exploration – say for a year? As many different encounters in as many places as your handsome face and figure will permit. You can keep a journal. I'll even throw in bar money." El Jefe puffed on his cigar triumphantly.
Ari looked grim, his jaw set. "I- I don't want a lot of anonymous sex, unfeeling sex - with men – or women. It's never been my nature. I hate that."
Aurelio put out the cigar and crossed his muscular bare arms. "Then perhaps I can make things easier – on one important condition. You see, I have been a top – only – since I began knowing men at eighteen. A top – exclusively. I have checked the job listings on premises, and the only opening in my life and in my heart is for a bottom. Do you know my friend what a submissive is?
Ari listened intently. For the first time in their meeting he sensed his growing erection.
Encouraged, the Chief continued. "I will train you exclusively for one year. Outside your work, and especially in the bedroom, you will obey me, exclusively. You will have sexual relations exclusively with me – when I allow it, unless I direct otherwise. Any disobedience, any show of anger, and the training will stop until your behavior is corrected. After a year, you should know what you need to know – technically, and about yourself. You will be a man among men. A man worth knowing."
"What if you abuse me?"
"There will be no abuse. You should be able to see, each day, how deeply, intimately I care for you. But there can be only one will. To which you must submit."
Fully erect now, Ari swallowed hard, then lunged at the older man's right hand, and kissed it. Aurelio's left hand swiftly but gently clasped Ari's chin, and drew it close.
"A very romantic gesture, hombre. But I do not thank you. When next I want your kisses I will say. Now move your things in by tomorrow."