4 comments/ 21250 views/ 1 favorites New York is Where I'd Rather Stay By: PlayWithFire This draft completed early January 2007 *This is a work of fiction, blah blah blah. Any resemblances to reality are purely coincidental, blah blah blah. * Smoke curled upwards from the man's cigar like a wayward sailboat at sea. A glass of tea sat in front of him, ornamented with a lemon. Slowly he raised the cigar to his lips and took a deep drag, held the smoke in his mouth for several long seconds, and released it in a long, steady stream. "Omir?" a voice speaking in Turkish called from the corridor outside the dark study where the man was seated. "Yes," was the man's terse reply. "It is I, Ertan." Omir titled his head slightly in acknowledgement. He set his cigar down in an ashtray and followed the other man's movements with his eyes. Ertan inched his way toward where Omir was seated. He lowered himself so that he was level with Omir. A slight smile formed on Ertan's face. "I really cannot help but notice that you seem less than exalted to see me," he said slowly as a nervous laugh escaped him. Omir said nothing. Ertan cleared his throat and tried again. "You know, as charming as you are when you're silent and scowling, you really do have a lovely smile. Do you think you could put it on display for me?" Again, Omir was silent. Ertan arose, and said "Right. Be seeing you." He started to walk away, but he stopped when Omir spoke. "Wait. Don't go away. I'm sorry, darling—I really would like to speak to you." Ertan turned around and faced Omir. "You know I love you," Omir began slowly. "You must know that. I love you more than anyone or anything." He sighed. "But I've taken on a new case that's put me in the constant company of a man that I work with. I…I think I'm falling for him, Ertan!" Omir leaned forward and, with his elbows on his desk, buried his face in his hands. For several moments neither man spoke. Ertan once again made his way over to where Omir was seated. This time, however, he did not lower himself to be level with the seated Omir. He towered over the other man. With the full impact of Omir's words having hit him, he began to speak impassionedly. "What are you telling me, Omir? You say you love me more than anything, yet you're willing to toss me aside for another man you've just met? Is that what you're telling me?" He was shouting now, gesticulating in ways that he wasn't even aware of. Omir looked up and stared his lover full in the face. "Never, Ertança, never. That is never what I would say nor do to you. By Allah, you must know that I would never leave you for another man." Ertan stared at the floor, his fists clenched at his sides. Also clenched were his buttocks and his innards, although he was not at all aware of this. "Then suppose you tell me," he hissed, "what you are telling me." Omir arose from his chair and took Ertan's fists. He unclenched them and intertwined Ertan's fingers with his own. He looked deeply into Ertan's eyes and gazed at him intently until Ertan could not possibly look away. "All I'm saying is that I want you to meet this man. I'm almost positive he's homosexual. If you like him and he agrees, maybe we can invite him over one night and hopefully, you know…" "We can fuck him senseless?" Ertan finished for him. He let out an incredulous laugh. "I can't believe you. I simply cannot believe you. This is…" He sighed. "This is one hell of a proposal that you're springing on me. I just don't know…." "It would only be after I fuck you senseless," Omir replied, giving Ertan a peck on the lips. "Why not just give him a try? You know he would never in any way take your place. No one possibly could after twenty-three years." Ertan smiled, and tears began to fill his eyes and fall down his cheeks. The two men embraced and held each other tightly for at least a minute. Then they walked out of the study arm in arm. New York is Where I'd Rather Stay Gabor began to babble in his euphoric state, unknowingly mixing his English with Hungarian. Omir continued fucking him, thrusting deep inside only to pull out and slam back in, pausing to perform a circular grinding motion at the bottom of each thrust. Ertan said something in Turkish and Omir responded breathlessly. The waves in Gabor's chestnut-colored hair were matted with sweat; his heart was beating faster and faster as he was brought ever closer to peaking. Omir once again slammed deep inside him and ground his cock against his rectal walls, and this time Gabor did peak. He cried out in rapture, and come splashed between himself and Omir. Omir also cried out as Gabor's anal passageway clenched around his cock, and after a few moments Gabor felt warmth flood his insides as Omir climaxed inside him. Omir continued thrusting as he rode the aftershocks of his orgasm, and then he collapsed on top of Gabor. Ertan released Gabor's arms and unhooked his legs from Omir's shoulders, lowering them gently onto the bed. He then focused his attention on Omir, rubbing his shoulders and kissing the back of his neck. Omir, still experiencing the effects of his powerful orgasm, was unable to speak, but he reached up and took Ertan's hand and squeezed it lovingly. Ertan wrapped his arms around Omir and at last Omir removed himself from Gabor and settled into Ertan's arms. The two men held each other tenderly and repeatedly told one another "I love you" in Turkish. Gabor sat up and watched them longingly, fighting back tears. How he missed having someone to come home to and love every night just as these two had. As his hosts caressed each other and shared secrets that only they knew, Gabor could no longer resist letting the tears fall. After a few minutes Ertan glanced back at Gabor and noticed him crying silently. Both men untangled themselves from each other's arms and embraced Gabor. Ertan pulled him onto his lap while Omir embraced him from the front, sandwiching Gabor between his two hosts. Being held and caressed by both men was a great source of comfort for Gabor, and his anguish slowly subsided. "You two don't know how lucky you are," he said at last. Omir and Ertan exchanged a meaningful glance. "Yes we do," Omir replied. "We know how precious we are to each other. We know that we have something that we hope to never, ever lose." "I once had someone like that back in Hungary," Gabor began timidly. "His name was Laszlo. I loved him with every inch of my heart, and I thought that he loved me as well. We were together for eight years. Then one day he came home and told me that he was leaving. He never told me why. He mentioned something about "the ocean" being "full of all different kinds of fish" and wanting to get away and explore. All these years I've had to guess why he picked that moment to leave me. Was it something I said or did? I've racked my brains trying to remember what it was that I must have done to drive him away so decidedly, but in the end I cannot remember a thing. Nothing that would cause him to leave me like that. What I do know for certain is that he totally and completely crushed me. Since then I've been hesitant to become involved with anyone else in the hopes that Laszlo might one day change his mind and take me back. If he were to do that I would have given up everything that I have here and moved back to Hungary with him. Now I know how foolish I was." As he listened, Omir's heart broke a little. He had always picked up the vibe that Gabor was lonely. While he had definitely been attracted to Gabor due to his boyish good looks and charm, it was also the sense of loneliness and carefully concealed sadness that caused him to take great pity and affection on the man. "I'm so sorry, dear one," Omir told Gabor, his tone full of sympathy. He embraced the younger man tightly. "You're too good to have to experience such sorrow. I can only hope that Ertan and I have been good to you." "Oh, you have, you have," Gabor assured him emphatically. "You two have been wonderful. You'll never know how much I've enjoyed and appreciated this evening." The three men embraced for some time. At last they got up and put their clothes back on, donning their coats and going outside for a smoke. The night was bitterly cold, and all three smoked their cigarettes quickly in order to return to the warmth of the house. They were still working on their smokes when a thought occurred to Omir. He looked at Ertan and the idea became apparent to him almost as if the two possessed telepathic capabilities. It gave Ertan a moment's pause, but at last he nodded in the affirmative. "Gabor," Omir began. "It's so cold out, and we've enjoyed your company very much. To put it simply, we were wondering if you would like to stay the night here with us. We can drive you back tomorrow. What do you say to that?" Gabor was deeply touched by the offer, but felt he couldn't take it. "I would love to so much, but Tómi, my cat…I have to feed him." "Couldn't you have a neighbor feed him?" Ertan suggested. Gabor thought about this. He really had no desire to go back home in the cold, and he was relishing every second with his hosts. He had a spare key under his doormat, and his closest neighbor knew about it. He decided to go along with Ertan's suggestion. The three men put their cigarettes out in the ashtray that Omir had brought outside, and they went back into the house. The blast of warmth that greeted them was like manna from heaven. They doffed their coats, and Omir went to retrieve a telephone for Gabor. Ertan showed Gabor to the living room. "Come, have a seat. It's much more comfortable in here," he motioned. Gabor followed him hesitantly and sat down on the nearest sofa. Ertan sat beside him and put his arm around him. "You're still shy, I can see that," he told the younger man, who responded by blushing. "That's alright," Ertan assured him. "This has been a lot to experience in one night." "I really have had a wonderful time," Gabor insisted. "I would not trade this evening. It's been great, and I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to stay the night with you and Omir." "Think nothing of it," Ertan smiled and kissed him on the cheek, which caused Gabor to further blush. He looked up at Ertan and grinned, dimples ornamenting the sides of his mouth. Omir returned to the living room and seated himself next to them, handing the telephone to Gabor. Gabor made his call and was relieved to hear that his neighbor would gladly feed Tómi. He thanked the neighbor profusely and ended the call, handing the phone back to Omir. Ertan got up to make some drinks, and Omir scooted closer to Gabor, placing a hand on the latter's knee. "How long have you lived in the States?" he asked Gabor. "Three years. I came out here in August of 2003." "Have you lived in New York all this time?" "Yes, although I originally wanted to live in California." He snickered. "I had this dream of going to Hollywood and becoming an actor. My mother encouraged me, telling me that I was handsome and charismatic enough to take the world by storm. I guess a lack of talent was irrelevant. How about you and Ertan?" "We have lived in America for twelve years. Four of them were in Chicago, two in Los Angeles, and for the rest of the time we've been here. Up until about a year ago we lived right on Central Park. We had the most incredible bedroom view. It was amazing. We moved out here to Manhasset when Ertan's company relocated to Long Island. I usually take the subway into Manhattan every day, but occasionally I drive, like today." "What is Ertan's line of work?" "He is a graphics designer. He's good at what he does because he's very technical and extremely intelligent. He could solve practically any problem relating to computers or networking. And he's got great artistic talents." "Where in Turkey were you originally from?" "We were both born and raised in Izmir, although I went to university in Ankara at age eighteen and lived there for years. Ertan stayed in Izmir for university and came to Ankara when he was twenty-two years old. He's three years younger than me, but he was so intelligent and savvy with computers that the firm decided to take him on right out of university. We met at a work-related auction. That was 1983, and we've been hopelessly in love ever since." He chuckled, reminiscing on the good times he'd had with his lover. "I was born in Debrecen, which is a small city in Hungary," Gabor began. "But we moved to Budapest when I was quite small. I spent my entire childhood and most of my adulthood there. My mother worked as a model ever since she was young, and my sister was a runner-up for Miss Hungary in 1986. People used to tell my sister and me that we were the most beautiful children; almost everyone thought we were twins, but I'm two years younger. She and I were very close, and she always accepted my homosexuality. But it came as quite a blow to my parents to discover that I was gay. My father wouldn't speak to me for many years. Only in the last ten years or so has he made an effort to tolerate my existence and accept me for who I am." He sighed. "Of course, that was around the time that Laszlo left me." Omir moved his hand from Gabor's knee to his shoulder, patting it in sympathy. "I'm very sorry," he told him. Gabor looked at him and gave him a small smile. "That really does mean a lot to me. You are very kind." They continued making small talk until Ertan came back with a tray holding three cups of warm anise. He and Omir imbibed theirs enthusiastically while Gabor drank his slowly, trying to acclimate himself to the exotic flavor. The taste was not altogether unpleasant; in fact, it reminded him a bit of the soups that his grandmother would serve when he was a young boy in Hungary. There was a slight kick to the drink that he recognized as gin. He finished his cup—several minutes after his hosts had downed theirs—and placed it on the tray. The gin mixed in left him feeling warm and pleasant. "Would you like to watch television?" Omir asked Gabor. "Ertan and I were going to take a shower." "Yes, that would be fine," Gabor responded. Ertan opened a drawer next to the sofa and produced a remote control. He switched on the T.V. and handed the remote to Gabor. Then the two Turks left the room and headed towards their bedroom. Gabor switched through the channels until he came upon a show that he liked, "The Office." Once in their bedroom bathroom, Omir and Ertan doffed their clothes and turned on the shower head. As they stepped under the warm current, they began conversing in Turkish. "So what do you think of him?" Omir asked as he lathered up a loofah and applied it to Ertan's back. Ertan laughed and replied, "You could have saved me a lot of grief by telling me up front that you felt sorry for him. I would have gone along with the whole scheme far more willingly." "Well I did take pity on him, but I also think he's a kind, beautiful fellow," Omir returned somewhat defensively. He soaped up his hands and washed Ertan's genital and perineal regions. Ertan moaned as he did this. "He certainly is that," he concurred. "Absolutely delightful, that one is." He turned around and planted a kiss on Omir's lips. "My turn," he said, snatching the loofah from his lover and lathering it up with soap. He applied it to Omir's chest, rubbing in small circles. Then he trailed it downwards until he was washing between Omir's legs. "We should have invited him in here," Omir intoned breathlessly as his lover rubbed the soapy loofah along his penis and directly above. "He may be lonely, but he knows how to play the role of a good guest." "Yes. A bit on the shy side, but very sweet nonetheless. You were right, like usual. Our Bolyai is as charming as he is handsome," Ertan agreed. He set aside the loofah and squirted a dollop of shampoo into his hands and applied it to Omir's hair. Once his head was sufficiently lathered, Omir stood under the current of water and let the soap wash out. He then took his turn washing Ertan's hair. "And he is handsome, isn't he?" Omir declared as the two men exited the shower. They took turns toweling one another off and then put on their robes and combed their damp hair. "They don't come much more attractive than him," Ertan replied. "Of course, he's got nothing on you, Omirça." He smiled and kissed his lover. Omir kissed Ertan in return, nearly overcome with delight. The two had a complex and very beautiful hookah system in their room, and usually they smoked from it several times a week; with their guest here on this particular evening, however, they decided to forego the hookah and spend that time with Gabor. They brushed their teeth and left the bathroom. When they arrived back in the living room, Gabor was nearly asleep and just barely watching the television. His head was leaning back on one of the sofa's pillows, his legs were curled together on an ottoman, and his entire body was shifted slightly to the right as if fighting the effects of gravity and looming sleep. When his hosts entered the room, he sat up slightly and smiled, rubbing his eyes. "Would you like to take a shower?" Ertan asked. Gabor considered this: he was incredibly tired and would have liked to simply plop down into bed, but the idea of torrents of hot water washing over him and relaxing his muscles was very appealing. He answered Ertan in the affirmative and arose from the sofa, straightening up the pillows that he had used and ruffled. Omir switched off the television and placed the remote control back into the drawer. While Ertan took Gabor into the bedroom, Omir made his final rounds around the house, making certain that all the doors and windows were locked. He then turned on the security alarm and ambled back to the bedroom. Ertan was laying out the blankets on the bed while Gabor showered. Having fluffed up all the pillows, the two men crawled underneath the covers and waited for Gabor to join them. About five minutes later he came out of the bathroom wearing a spare robe that the men had lent him. He removed it and hung it on the bedpost along with his hosts' robes, then climbed into bed next to Ertan, pulling the blankets over him. He smelled wonderful. His hosts kissed each other goodnight, and then Omir said, "Why don't you sleep between the two of us?" Gabor had no objections to this suggestion and made his way between the two men. Having settled himself, he smiled at both his hosts. "Thank you again," he said. "You two have been the kindest that anyone has been to me in a while." Omir leaned forward and kissed him lovingly, then said, "You are most welcome, dear one." Gabor turned around to face Ertan, who took his turn kissing Gabor. "It has been our pleasure," he said when the kiss was broken. Omir switched off the bedside lamp and the three settled their way into sleep. The bed was king-sized, but even so the men huddled close together. Omir had his arm around Gabor and was slowly drifting into a peaceful slumber. He was very pleased with the way the evening had worked out—Gabor had been a delight, Ertan had grown to enjoy him every bit as much as Omir had, and the sex was positively divine. Gabor felt warm and protected between the two older men, and he fell asleep almost immediately. He hadn't felt this happy in months. Ertan had enjoyed the evening very much as well, and he had taken to Gabor quite strongly by this point. Sleep came quickly for him as he laid his arm across Gabor, intertwining it with Omir's. New York is Where I'd Rather Stay Omir and Ertan exchanged a look, then Omir said, his voice full of emotion, "I love you too, Gabor." "And I also," Ertan echoed, smiling. As Ertan and Omir got back into the car, Omir called out, "I'll see you Monday morning. Don't forget to call us anytime!" "I won't," Gabor replied. He thought about what he had just said, then called back, "I mean, I won't forget. I will call you!" Omir and Ertan drove away, enjoying the New York City winter scenes. They passed through Times' Square again, observing all the hustle and bustle and the life. Of everything that New York had to offer—the night scene, the deposits of culture, the restaurants, the many job opportunities, the myriad different stores—in the end it was the city's sense of life that so appealed to both Omir and Ertan. As they drove home they did not speak much, but the entire time they exchanged tender smiles and held hands. Words were not necessary. Gabor Bolyai entered his apartment and greeted Tómi, who jumped into his arms and rubbed himself against his chest. He turned on the lights and adjusted the temperature. Having given the cat some milk, he sat down on his couch and flipped on the television. He did not really watch, however, as he thought about how lucky he was. Normally he hated coming home to his lonely apartment; even Tómi offered only small comfort. Today, however, he knew that he no longer had any reason to be lonely. That knowledge was both profoundly reassuring and liberating. Gabor had been wounded, first by his father and later by Laszlo, and he had carried the scars for far too long. Now he could finally let them heal, move on, and never look back. As the day turned into evening and the evening turned into night, his heart was filled with serenity and joy. He went out on the town for the first time in weeks, eating out, checking out stores, and catching a Broadway show. His life had changed, and it was fantastic.