K
Kennick
Guest
Tassos and I slept the whole night through without even moving too much, without any notion of where we were and what would await us. The first thing I sensed in the morning was the imperative need to attend the washer, I got up sveltely and immediately felt my skin all over my body being too tight and too warm for the rest of my body (not even to mention the tremendous hard-on I had). Forgotten were the svelte movement and the impulse to attend the washer, instead I looked around, saw Tassos laying there, sleeping like the personification of innocence and sprang to life. I put on my tightest possible bermuda shorts (jeans that only depicted even better my now sideways pointing hard-on), grabbed a T-shirt in bright orange, my wallet and headed out of my room.
My first way led me to the grocery store where I met again the gentle couple who now talked about me without any restraint, as if I could only be a tourist and as if Greeks would never wear orange, I bought some honey, some fruits, some more yoghurt and fresh milk and went on to find a pharmacy. Normally there are zillions of pharmacies in every Greek town, even the tiny province towns boast of at least 6-8 minimum, in my case Naxos appeared to be the only island of the Cyclades without a pharmacy. I took a deep breath and headed into the next bakery that exhaled the promissing scents of fresh bread and spinach pita (made of crispy filo dough and filled with spinach, leek and feta cheese!), strangely enough no clients were inside to enjoy these scents, I got some bread and spinach pita and asked as casual as possible in my slurriest Greek where abouts the next pharmacy would be. The woman behind the cash register waved me to come closer, smiled at me and shook her head in a pleased manner, she smiled even broader and told me that she would know the expression of my face. She had seen it once, when her late husband had returned one morning from work and had brought her flowers, some fresh fruits, yoghurt, honey, bread and also pita (she pointed at my shopping bags!) only to put them aside and ask her to marry him. It was during the time of the junta in Greece in 1971, when it was almost a deadly sin to marry a woman without having asked the second cousin of her godfather's mother-in-law, whether he agreed to see them marry, she said, and she had nodded yes, they had ended up in I-knew-where and after 9 months her first daughter had announced her arrival to this island with a loud scream. She told me to go out of the bakery and to turn left and immediately right again and there I would find the pharmacy I wanted to find. She made the sign of the cross over my chest, thanked me for the money I handed her over without even counting it and let me go.
Of course the pharmacy was two corners further away, but at least it was open, so I burst in and without waiting to be attended I asked to know where the condoms would be. The pharmacist shot me a most vitriolic glance and continued to explain leerily to an elderly pair the effects and side-effects of a vitamin medication. After what seemed hours to me (felt time!), I was the next one to be attended, he handed me over the condoms I had asked for and asked whether I would be aware of what I was about to do without being married and on an island and whether my parents would know of my behaviour. I immediately knew that he was the third cousin of the late baker's wife's godfather's mother-in-law who had not been asked and just been brusquely overruled by the other higher ranking cousins, so I decided to give him a good reason to try out the effects of his heart-pills and asked for a lubricant. The pharmacist gasped and slammed the lubricant on the counter. I paid with the knowing smile of somebody about to utter something truely malicious and said that he should mention this during his next visit to the confessional. 'What?' he asked curtly in a badly disguised attack of anger and the wish to strangle me with his own hands. My lips smiled, but my mouth spat out that he should be ashamed of selling these sinful and damnable products to a young Greek man about to loose his virginity to another gay Greek man. Only a whole set of wonders and an army of angels protected me from being killed by a rain of antihistaminics, digitalis pills and plasters, not even to mention the now high pitched voice of the pharmacist conjuring up all demons of hell to condemn me and the other disgraced Greek.
Within splitseconds I had left the tiny road and headed back to my little pension, took two or three steps at a time, unlocked the door and found not a trace of Tassos. Sweat, all over my body the sweat was running, it froze my joints, it destroyed my smile, it blurred my vision, sweat. I was dripping of cold sweat, while only my eyes were moving and trying to see Tassos on the white sheets to no effect. My hands were dripping as well as my forehead, my back was a cataract, my legs completely wet and my head booming with the curses of the pharmacist now laughing at me and at my vain thought that Tassos would be still there.
Somehow I must have managed to let the shopping bags down, somehow I must have entered the bathroom, somehow I must have worked out how to turn on the water to wash the sweat off me, somehow I must have forgotten to take off my clothes and somehow I lost my sense of time. The cleaning woman found me inside the shower with swollen eyes and trembling from cold. She must have taken me to bed, she covered me with some fresh sheets and left me a note. After a dark, dreamless, cold nap I awoke with a startle and found the note in my hand. It said: 'Where are you? Why did you leave? Whistle and I will be there, I just went to get myself some clothes. Just whistle and I will be there.' My body stood up, my hand pushed the curtain back, my eyes saw his open, but empty window and my lips formed a circle to whistle, I shook my head in despair telling me that I was a fool to believe that he had meant this literally, that he would be up and away now and that this was all my fault not to leave a note behind.
"Kennick", I looked up, he was standing in his window, waving at me with a cup of coffee, and asked me whether I would try to communicate via telepathywhistling and whether I would mind to come to his room to have a cup of coffee with him. His voice was neutral, friendly, nothing special, but there was a twinkle around his eyes and I could make out the outlines of his cock dangling between his thighs, waiting for me. My smile had to be enough of an answer for him, I turned around, put on a fresh T-shirt and a new pair of bermudas (equally bad disguising my hard-on), repacked the shopping into my backpack, grabbed a towel and my photocamera in order to appear like the standard tourist who wants to pick somebody up to go for swimming.
My feet took me to the entrance of his small pension, I knocked and an ill-tempered dragon of a pension-owner opened the gates to Tartarus, whereas
Cerberus impersonated by a shrilly chirping canary was guarding the staircase that led upstairs. I didn't bother to take off my sunglasses (dark blue skeleton with dark blue glasses), threw a less than polite glance around the room and listened to the revertebrating from the walls chirping of the canary.
Whether Tassos was upstairs, we had agreed to meet at the busstop an hour ago and I was in no mood to hear any excuses. The dragon of a pension-owner looked puzzled at me and waved her fatty right hand towards the staircase, saying that she wouldn't work here as a personal secretary of her guests and that I should tell him (Tassos seemed to have no name here and to be only worth of a nod into the rough direction of his room) that he should not forget to leave her the money on the counter for his last two days, she would be about to leave for her cousin living in St. Anna and would only return late this night, whereas her husband... I didn't bother to listen to her any longer, walked passed the Cerberus-canary that seemed to have even higher tunes reserved for the guests that dared to walk over the guarded threshold sangfroid, climbed up the staircase and stood in front of three possible doors not knowing which one to knock on.
With the flimsiest of all excuses that she would tell him (a nod again) herself to leave her the money the suddenly all-too polite dragon hurried up the staircase and knocked on the rightmost of the three doors. Tassos, completely dressed now except for his sandals he tried to put on while opening the door, let us in and turned to her: 'Yes, dear Miss Soula, what is it? I am late, I was supposed to meet a friend of mine...' She cut his word with an angry, impatient movement and announced that she would leave the
hotel (snort, it was a pension!) to visit her cousin and that she would hope that he wouldn't forget the money for the last two days as he had forgotten to meet this (a nod towards me) friendly young man who had politely asked for him. There was no trace of irony in her brisk voice, so she must have seen the bigger dragon in me.
She left the room with a dramatical movement of her head sitting on a considerably fat neck (why did I have to think of Miss Piggy that moment?), patted me on my shoulder and told me that close to St. Anna we would find a very nice and clean beach with enough beautiful women of our class and of our taste to meet and to invite for a Sprite. She patted me on my shoulder again and wished me (only me, not Tassos the Forgetful) a nice day. We heard her leaving with an equally dramatic slamming of the door outside, went to the window, peeked out and saw her enormous legs carrying her even more enormous body towards downtown and to the bus-station.
My fingers found his left hand and my lips his left shoulder. Tassos slowly turned around, took my hand, walked a few steps into the middle of the room, took off my sunglasses, looked surprised at my still swollen eyes, shook his head with the warmest of all smiles, opened his arms, locked me inside and his lips on mine as if he could suck out all grief and all pain out of
me in order to cure me from the assumed deception.
My first way led me to the grocery store where I met again the gentle couple who now talked about me without any restraint, as if I could only be a tourist and as if Greeks would never wear orange, I bought some honey, some fruits, some more yoghurt and fresh milk and went on to find a pharmacy. Normally there are zillions of pharmacies in every Greek town, even the tiny province towns boast of at least 6-8 minimum, in my case Naxos appeared to be the only island of the Cyclades without a pharmacy. I took a deep breath and headed into the next bakery that exhaled the promissing scents of fresh bread and spinach pita (made of crispy filo dough and filled with spinach, leek and feta cheese!), strangely enough no clients were inside to enjoy these scents, I got some bread and spinach pita and asked as casual as possible in my slurriest Greek where abouts the next pharmacy would be. The woman behind the cash register waved me to come closer, smiled at me and shook her head in a pleased manner, she smiled even broader and told me that she would know the expression of my face. She had seen it once, when her late husband had returned one morning from work and had brought her flowers, some fresh fruits, yoghurt, honey, bread and also pita (she pointed at my shopping bags!) only to put them aside and ask her to marry him. It was during the time of the junta in Greece in 1971, when it was almost a deadly sin to marry a woman without having asked the second cousin of her godfather's mother-in-law, whether he agreed to see them marry, she said, and she had nodded yes, they had ended up in I-knew-where and after 9 months her first daughter had announced her arrival to this island with a loud scream. She told me to go out of the bakery and to turn left and immediately right again and there I would find the pharmacy I wanted to find. She made the sign of the cross over my chest, thanked me for the money I handed her over without even counting it and let me go.
Of course the pharmacy was two corners further away, but at least it was open, so I burst in and without waiting to be attended I asked to know where the condoms would be. The pharmacist shot me a most vitriolic glance and continued to explain leerily to an elderly pair the effects and side-effects of a vitamin medication. After what seemed hours to me (felt time!), I was the next one to be attended, he handed me over the condoms I had asked for and asked whether I would be aware of what I was about to do without being married and on an island and whether my parents would know of my behaviour. I immediately knew that he was the third cousin of the late baker's wife's godfather's mother-in-law who had not been asked and just been brusquely overruled by the other higher ranking cousins, so I decided to give him a good reason to try out the effects of his heart-pills and asked for a lubricant. The pharmacist gasped and slammed the lubricant on the counter. I paid with the knowing smile of somebody about to utter something truely malicious and said that he should mention this during his next visit to the confessional. 'What?' he asked curtly in a badly disguised attack of anger and the wish to strangle me with his own hands. My lips smiled, but my mouth spat out that he should be ashamed of selling these sinful and damnable products to a young Greek man about to loose his virginity to another gay Greek man. Only a whole set of wonders and an army of angels protected me from being killed by a rain of antihistaminics, digitalis pills and plasters, not even to mention the now high pitched voice of the pharmacist conjuring up all demons of hell to condemn me and the other disgraced Greek.
Within splitseconds I had left the tiny road and headed back to my little pension, took two or three steps at a time, unlocked the door and found not a trace of Tassos. Sweat, all over my body the sweat was running, it froze my joints, it destroyed my smile, it blurred my vision, sweat. I was dripping of cold sweat, while only my eyes were moving and trying to see Tassos on the white sheets to no effect. My hands were dripping as well as my forehead, my back was a cataract, my legs completely wet and my head booming with the curses of the pharmacist now laughing at me and at my vain thought that Tassos would be still there.
Somehow I must have managed to let the shopping bags down, somehow I must have entered the bathroom, somehow I must have worked out how to turn on the water to wash the sweat off me, somehow I must have forgotten to take off my clothes and somehow I lost my sense of time. The cleaning woman found me inside the shower with swollen eyes and trembling from cold. She must have taken me to bed, she covered me with some fresh sheets and left me a note. After a dark, dreamless, cold nap I awoke with a startle and found the note in my hand. It said: 'Where are you? Why did you leave? Whistle and I will be there, I just went to get myself some clothes. Just whistle and I will be there.' My body stood up, my hand pushed the curtain back, my eyes saw his open, but empty window and my lips formed a circle to whistle, I shook my head in despair telling me that I was a fool to believe that he had meant this literally, that he would be up and away now and that this was all my fault not to leave a note behind.
"Kennick", I looked up, he was standing in his window, waving at me with a cup of coffee, and asked me whether I would try to communicate via telepathywhistling and whether I would mind to come to his room to have a cup of coffee with him. His voice was neutral, friendly, nothing special, but there was a twinkle around his eyes and I could make out the outlines of his cock dangling between his thighs, waiting for me. My smile had to be enough of an answer for him, I turned around, put on a fresh T-shirt and a new pair of bermudas (equally bad disguising my hard-on), repacked the shopping into my backpack, grabbed a towel and my photocamera in order to appear like the standard tourist who wants to pick somebody up to go for swimming.
My feet took me to the entrance of his small pension, I knocked and an ill-tempered dragon of a pension-owner opened the gates to Tartarus, whereas
Cerberus impersonated by a shrilly chirping canary was guarding the staircase that led upstairs. I didn't bother to take off my sunglasses (dark blue skeleton with dark blue glasses), threw a less than polite glance around the room and listened to the revertebrating from the walls chirping of the canary.
Whether Tassos was upstairs, we had agreed to meet at the busstop an hour ago and I was in no mood to hear any excuses. The dragon of a pension-owner looked puzzled at me and waved her fatty right hand towards the staircase, saying that she wouldn't work here as a personal secretary of her guests and that I should tell him (Tassos seemed to have no name here and to be only worth of a nod into the rough direction of his room) that he should not forget to leave her the money on the counter for his last two days, she would be about to leave for her cousin living in St. Anna and would only return late this night, whereas her husband... I didn't bother to listen to her any longer, walked passed the Cerberus-canary that seemed to have even higher tunes reserved for the guests that dared to walk over the guarded threshold sangfroid, climbed up the staircase and stood in front of three possible doors not knowing which one to knock on.
With the flimsiest of all excuses that she would tell him (a nod again) herself to leave her the money the suddenly all-too polite dragon hurried up the staircase and knocked on the rightmost of the three doors. Tassos, completely dressed now except for his sandals he tried to put on while opening the door, let us in and turned to her: 'Yes, dear Miss Soula, what is it? I am late, I was supposed to meet a friend of mine...' She cut his word with an angry, impatient movement and announced that she would leave the
hotel (snort, it was a pension!) to visit her cousin and that she would hope that he wouldn't forget the money for the last two days as he had forgotten to meet this (a nod towards me) friendly young man who had politely asked for him. There was no trace of irony in her brisk voice, so she must have seen the bigger dragon in me.
She left the room with a dramatical movement of her head sitting on a considerably fat neck (why did I have to think of Miss Piggy that moment?), patted me on my shoulder and told me that close to St. Anna we would find a very nice and clean beach with enough beautiful women of our class and of our taste to meet and to invite for a Sprite. She patted me on my shoulder again and wished me (only me, not Tassos the Forgetful) a nice day. We heard her leaving with an equally dramatic slamming of the door outside, went to the window, peeked out and saw her enormous legs carrying her even more enormous body towards downtown and to the bus-station.
My fingers found his left hand and my lips his left shoulder. Tassos slowly turned around, took my hand, walked a few steps into the middle of the room, took off my sunglasses, looked surprised at my still swollen eyes, shook his head with the warmest of all smiles, opened his arms, locked me inside and his lips on mine as if he could suck out all grief and all pain out of
me in order to cure me from the assumed deception.
