Mr. Cabinet

Carlos

Chapter 1

I wandered over to the bar and ordered a cold beer. My eyes gradually became accustomed to the low light levels and I saw that the dancer was a boy about 11 years old in traditional Flamenco costume – Black boots, black trousers and red shirt. I couldn't see much else from that distance but I could see he had a mass of black wavy hair cascading down on to his shoulders.

There was a free chair nearer the stage so I picked my beer up, walked over and sat down. Now I could see him better, the boy was stunningly beautiful and obviously loved what he was doing. Stamping, twisting, turning, jumping and sweating profusely. oh and smiling, not just with his mouth but with his whole body.

The crowd was calling out "Carlos!" and whistling and clapping.

He came to the end of his dance, bowed and left the stage. The crowd wanted more but he yelled out "Later! – c'mon I need a break!" opened a door at the back and went out.

I turned to the man beside me and said "Wow! that's quite some kid!"

"Sure is," he said, "that's Carlos, his uncle owns this place and he dances for us a couple of times a week."

"How did he get that good," I wondered out loud,

"He's been dancing since he could walk," the guy said.

I sat and chatted for a while then went back to the bar for another beer. Much to my surprise Carlos was tending the bar.

"A cold beer," I asked, "you sure know how to dance!"

"Thank you señor," he said "here is your beer," and he smiled at me – and something inside me just melted. I must have looked stunned I guess.

"He has that effect on everyone," said a voice beside me, "I'm Juan Costella, I'm his uncle and this is my taverna."

"Good to meet you," I said and shook his hand.

We talked for a few minutes then I told him I was looking for somewhere to stay for three or four weeks.

"You are in just the right place," he exclaimed, "I have a spare room above the bar."

We discussed rent and food etc. and agreed that I could move in tomorrow.

I stayed at the Taverna for an hour or so then went back to my hotel for some sleep. I remember as I dozed off – all I could see was that smile – I had happy dreams.

Next morning I woke, packed, checked out and made my way to the Taverna.

Carlos was at the bar.

"Greetings Señor," he said, "Your room is ready, you are booked in as Mr Cabinet. Do you have a first name I can write down?"

"Of course – my name is Peter, Peter Cabinet."

"Cabinet is an unusual name señor – where does it come from?"

"It is a french name, it should be pronounced CabinAY – sort of like Cabernet wine."

"Then I shall call you Mr Cabinay. If that is all right."

"It is most definitely not all right," I said, trying to sound cross, "You shall call me Peter."

"Hokay," he grinned, "I don't want to get into any trouble, so I shall call you Peter."

He came round the bar and picked up my bag – "Hey Peter!" he winked, "that's heavy. What have you got in there?"

"Just books, I do a bit of writing in my spare time, travelogues and that sort of thing usually."

"That's so cool – Can I read them?"

"Sure, but you'll have to go to a bookshop or a library – The books I carry round are references so I can get the details right."

His face fell, but only for an instant, "So are you going to do a travel book while you are here?"

"I might."

"Hey! I could help! I know all the places round here, and I know lots of people, and I know how to get places and the best buses to get and…"

I stopped him.

"Whoa!" I said. "You sure get excited easily Carlos." He was almost jumping up and down and his eyes were huge… have I mentioned his eyes? Dear God – Dark Translucent Brown, with lashes that most women would die for. The sort of eyes that you can feel yourself falling into.

Where was I – oh yes I remember.

"I'll talk to your uncle and see what he thinks. I don't know my way around here at all so it could be really useful to have a guide."

"He won't mind! I'm sure its OK! C'mon lets start now!" He was still bouncing around with excitement.

"First things first – let's get my bag to my room and let me settle in, then we'll ask Juan what he thinks… and anyway I won't be doing anything for a couple of days, so there's no rush."

"I guess you're right," he muttered. "Your room is this way."

I followed him up the stairs and he unlocked the door. It was a plain room – clean but basic. Wooden floor, a bed on one side and a basin on the other. There was another door in the wall and Carlos opened it.

"You've even got your own shower and toilet," he said.

"I wasn't expecting that – but thats a real bonus."

"I forgot!" said Carlos, "I'm supposed to be watching the desk," "I'll see you later – Bye."

And he was gone.

Wow!!! I thought, If he was a few years older… I shook my head – it didn't help.

Lunch, I thought. I went downstairs and found Juan at the desk.

"Anywhere round here I can get a decent lunch?" I asked.

"Is that Peter?" a voice said from the back room. "I know a really good place just round the corner that has the best Tacos in Mexico."

Carlos bounced out. "Come on, I'll show you," he said.

"Hang on a minute," I paused, "Is that all right with you Juan?"

"If you think you can put up with his chatter, it's OK with me," he smiled. "Just make sure he gets to his dance lesson at 3:15 this afternoon."

Carlos ran out from behind the desk, grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door. "Thanks uncle, lets go!"

"Yeah o.k. I'm coming. See you later Juan."

"Hey Carlos, slow down, I want to walk slowly so I can see everything," he slowed up and grinned – he still had hold of my hand and I didn't mind at all.

We turned left and wandered along the street, round a couple of corners and sure enough, there was a little cafe, with tables on the sidewalk and a delicious smell wafting across the road.

The owner came out "Hey Carlos! good to see you. and who have you bought with you today."

"This is Señor Cabinet, and he's staying at the taverna, and he writes books, and he's going to write a book about this part of Mexico, and Cabinet is a French name and…"

"My goodness," said the cafe owner, "I don't need to know his whole life history.."

He winked at me "Good afternoon Señor Cabinet,"

"I am Julio Calanca. You have a very talkative tour guide!"

"I'm beginning to realise that," I grinned, "It's good to meet you."

"Do you think he can stop talking long enough to eat a Taco?" I asked.

"Not fair!" said Carlos, You bet I can, I'm starving to death!"

"Well you can order for both of us then," I said "and I'll have a cold beer and Carlos can have whatever he wants."

Carlos ordered the food and I looked around. It was a tidy, very friendly looking neighbourhood. A few houses, nothing very grand, and a couple of shops over the road.

I thought to myself, It doesn't really get much better than this – sitting at a sidewalk cafe, in Mexico, in the sunshine, with one of the most beautiful boys on the planet across the table.

"You see that green house over there," Carlos pointed, "that's where I go for my dance lessons," his eyes lit up, "you can come and watch if you like – would you – please?"

"I would love to watch you dancing – it will be a real treat for me."

"Cooool."

Our Tacos and drinks arrived and we got stuck in. I don't know if they were the best Tacos in Mexico but they were certainly the best I had eaten for a very long time, and they were set off perfectly by the crisp cold beer.

Carlos had stopped talking and was eating like he hadn't eaten for days. He saw me watching him and winked "Hey I'm a growing boy – I need my food!" We finished our food, and I looked at my watch. It was 2:30 so I suggested we could walk over to the little shops, as I wanted to look at everything.

The first shop was a small grocery store with a bit of everything for sale – the owner obviously knew Carlos and chattered for a while, then we walked to the other shop which was a shoe shop.

Right in the middle of the window was a pair of shiny black boots. Not with a really high heel, but just enough to add a little bit of height.

Carlos stopped dead. "Oh wow! he exclaimed, look at those! They are wonderful! They are proper Flamenco dancing boots! Just WOW! … but look at the price! … Oh well – I'll get uncle Juan to take a lottery ticket."

I looked at the price ticket and they didn't seem that expensive to me.

"Come on," I said "let's go and try them on."

"They know me," he muttered, "and they know I don't have that sort of money."

"But I do," I said quietly, "if they fit you, you can have them."

"No Peter! You can't spend that sort of money on me!"

"Why not? Its my money – I can spend it on anything I like – so there!"

I dragged him into the shop – he didn't resist too much, and very shortly, with no arguments from the owner, Carlos was stamping around in the boots.

They not only fitted him perfectly, they changed his posture so his hips were thrust out slightly. He looked sooooo sexy, and you could tell he knew it.

He stood side on to me, pushed his hips out and pulled his shoulders back. "What do you think Peter? Do they look alright?"

I swallowed. "Yes, I think you could say they look alright…"

I gave my Diner's Club card to the shop owner, he put the shoes in a box, and gave them to Carlos.

He clutched them to his chest, he was almost glowing with happiness. He flung his arms around me and hugged me.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you," he cried. There were tears in his eyes. "I don't believe you just did that! WOW! Just WOW!"

"Its not a problem," I answered, "I'm really pleased to be able to get them for you… I'm looking forward to seeing you dance in them."

"Yes!" He almost shouted, "It is Saturday and I always dance on Saturday night at the Taverna!"

I looked at my watch, and suggested that we had better go to his dancing class or we would be late.

"Wait till Señor Lopez sees my new boots!"

Chapter 2

We walked along the road to The house of Señor Lopez and knocked. Señor Lopez opened the door. "Ah – Carlos, you are just on time, and I see you have a friend."

"Good Afternoon Señor," said Carlos "This is Peter Cabinet, he is staying at the Taverna and Look at the boots he just bought for me!" His voice had got more excited as he was speaking.

Señor Lopez looked at the boots "Those are very nice boots for a dancer, and a good brand too. You are a very lucky boy."

He looked over at me, "and you just bought them for him?… Carlos, perhaps if you would go and change into your dancing costume – and just stay there till I call you please. I need to talk to Mr Cabinet."

Carlos looked like he was going to argue but Señor Lopez said, "Now Carlos," quietly and he nodded his head and went.

"Mr Cabinet, let me explain. Since Carlos's parents were killed in a car crash, – Juan will tell you about it if you want to know more – The whole neighborhood has more or less adopted Carlos. To me, he is like a much loved grandson. Everyone loves and protects him."

He hesitated, "Please do not take this as an insult, but I have heard of rich men who buy presents for young boys. Sometimes they are not very nice men and they wish the boys to do umm – things – with them."

He paused again, "Now Mr Cabinet, I am sure that you are not one of these men, but just so we all know where we stand, I have to tell you that if you did anything to Carlos, you would not live to boast of it."

He looked embarrassed. "I hope you can understand why I am saying this."

I looked at him silently for a moment "Señor Lopez. I am really pleased to hear that Carlos has many people looking out for his welfare. He is indeed a beautiful boy and there will certainly be men who would take advantage of him."

"I like Carlos," I said, "I like Carlos a lot. I like his intelligence, his cheekiness, his innocence, and of course, I like the way he dances. I promise you that there is no way in the world that I would abuse him, or do anything to hurt him. It is an honor just to walk along the street with him… I don't know what else to say… He is safe with me."

"That is well said," Señor Lopez nodded. "But words are easy. My feeling is… that you are a good man and I hope, for all of us, that I am right. I can see that Carlos wants to be with you and sometimes it is good for a boy to have a man to talk to."

"Carlos," he called, "come on out, we had better get on with this lesson."

Carlos came out, wearing his dancing clothes. Red shirt, black trousers and of course – his new boots. He looked amazing.

He struck a pose, "what do you think Señor Lopez?"

"I think it is good," he commented, "turn around… yes, the boots change your stance for the better, you should wear them as much as you can, so you get used to dancing in them."

"Please excuse us now Mr Cabinet. We have to start with the lessons now."

The lesson started, I was surprised to see Señor Lopez get a guitar from a cupboard and commence playing. I had assumed he would use a CD or whatever.

Señor Lopez was a more than adequate Flamenco guitarist – perhaps not world class but a surprise to find in a Mexican town.

They spoke in rapid bursts of Spanish. Sometimes Carlos would dance for a minute, then stop and repeat the movement. Sometimes they would do a single step over and over until Señor Lopez was satisfied.

And always, Carlos was smiling, concentrating furiously on what he was doing, and putting everything into it, but enjoying every moment.

He slipped a couple of times in the more complex moves, because his timimg was out a bit. The new boots made him taller and he had to adjust. But by the end of the lesson he had damn near mastered them.

"That will do," said Señor Lopez, "We don't want you to get too tired. You are dancing tonight?"

"You bet!"

"Then I might just come and watch. Will I see you there Mr Cabinet?"

"I would not miss it for anything," I said "and please call me Peter."

"Thank you Peter, I will, and you should call me Rodrigo."

"Hey! Señor Lopez! If you come tonight will you pleeeeaaaase play guitar for me? It is so much better than my CD player."

"I will bring my guitar and perhaps I shall play for one or two dances – we shall see."

"Thank you!" Carlos bounced over and hugged Rodrigo, "that will be so cool."

Carlos changed back into his street wear and I chatted idly with Rodrigo till he was ready.

We said goodbye and headed back to the Taverna – Carlos had chores to do and I wanted to write in my diary while everything was fresh.

Carlos chattered all the way back, and held my hand again, and once again, I didn't mind at all.

I delivered Carlos to Juan and went upstairs. I thought about what Rodrigo Lopez had said, it seemed clear that there was no harm in looking but even a suspicion of anything else would result in extreme unpleasantness. No problem. I was happy just looking. After all, you don't have to dive into the Niagara Falls to appreciate their beauty – just looking is fine.

Chapter 3

I looked at the time – 7pm – put my diary away, went down stairs, along the street and found a burger place.

Back at the Taverna, I got a table near the stage, so I could see clearly. Carlos came over.

"Hey Peter," he smiled, "you are very early."

"I know," I agreed, "I was hungry so I thought I would sit here, have a beer and eat my burger. Do you think I can find anyone to get me a beer?"

"We might be able to arrange that," he laughed.

He fetched a beer for me then excused himself as he had dishes to wash. I watched him walk away and I swear he wiggled his butt at me.

Just as I finished my burger Rodrigo Lopez strolled in, carrying his guitar.

We waved to me and came over.

"Do you mind if I share your table Peter?"

"I would be honored."

He sat down and stretched his legs. "Do you know how to get a beer in here?" he said in a loud voice. "Or does a man have to die of thirst!"

Carlos scuttled over with a beer "I am so sorry Señor Lopez," he said, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Hmmphh!" growled Rodrigo, then winked and grinned at Carlos.

"You are always teasing me," Carlos shook his head and went back to his chores.

"So, Peter, what brings you to Campeche?" Rodrigo asked.

I explained about being a travel book writer, and that I was doing research for a book about Campeche and its surrounds.

"There is so much history here," I commented, "from Pirate raids to castles and a huge range of other stuff."

"This is true, it is an old city," nodded Rodrigo.

"I'm pleased you brought your guitar, It will have lots more soul than a CD player. I'm really looking forward to seeing Carlos dance to live music."

"I hardly know anything about Flamenco," I admitted, "but Carlos looks a lot more polished than I would expect for someone his age."

"He has a lot to learn, but his technique is outstanding and his understanding of the Duende – The soul of the music, is better expressed than with many adult dancers. If he keeps working on it, he could be one of the best in another 10 or 15 years."

"Are there different styles of Flamenco?"

"Yes, there are many, many styles. Carlos refuses to dance anything but Flamenco Puro. This is the most traditional Flamenco and the hardest to master, as it is all improvised. It must come from the heart, the soul. This is why it is so unusual for a young boy with no experience of the world, to dance it in any sort of acceptable fashion."

The Taverna was starting to fill up and a couple of others joined our table, We all introduced ourselves and were soon chatting amiably.

The time passed quickly. I heard a noise from the stage and looked up to see Carlos putting his CD player down. He was in his dancing clothes.

He stood up and faced the patrons.

"Tonight", he said, "I will do two dances with my CD player and then… Señor Rodrigo Lopez will play the guitar!"

A loud cheer went up – it was clear that everyone approved of this.

Carlos stood straight and silent for a moment, then bent over and pushed the play button on the CD player.

He stood still again, while the music started, then gradually his hands and arms started moving, his head was cocked a little to one side, as though the music was talking to him.

Then his hands sunk to his side again.

There was perhaps a three second pause then his heels rapped on the stage, like a short drum roll. His arms started moving again and now his hips were moving too. He looked dreamy eyed. The beat was slow at first and almost hypnotic, his heels rapping continously to drive the beat. Gradually the beat accelerated and his movements, which had been delicate, even birdlike, became more like fire. As the music built to a crescendo, Carlos seemed to transform into a storm of passion raging across the stage. He twisted, stomped, twirled and leapt… and always his heels were rapping tapping snapping the beat. The music slowed and gradually came to an end.

Carlos stoood still again, dripping sweat.

"I will have a little rest," he said, "then, if you wish, I will do another dance for you."

The patrons roared and clapped. Carlos vanished out the back door.

"Good grief!" I said "Is he always so intense?"

One of the other patrons answered. "He always puts everything he has into the dance! I have been watching Flamenco for many years and never have I seen anyone with his passion!"

Another patron spoke up "Si Señor, it doesn't matter about his age, I think his soul must have belonged to a great dancer before Carlos got it."

"Piffle!" snorted Rodrigo, "You talk a load of horse's water!"

Everyone laughed.

Rodrigo nodded "But he is very good. That is for cetain."

We ordered more beer, from Juan this time, and talked the sort of nonsense that is only talked in tavernas.

About 10 minutes later Carlos came back out and did another dance – similar to the first but different in a way I couldn't define.

He took another rest.

Rodrigo started tuning his guitar. "We will do a short piece first," he told us, just so we can tune in to each other. I will be improvising based on his dance and he will be improvising based on my guitar, so it is important we are talking the same language."

"Then we will do a longer dance," he said, "it is always more difficult as you cannot tell where it will go."

One of the other patrons laughed "It doesn't matter where it goes, with you and Carlos performing, we always get a treat."

Rodrigo moved to a chair next to the stage and Carlos came back on.

The guitar started, they were watching each other intently, you could see they were trying to get into a state where they both felt the same things from the music.

They stopped after a few minutes, there was an almost audible tension in the room, but total silence.

Carlos and Rodrigo nodded to each other.

Rodrigo started playing, delicately feeling his way around an intricate set of chords.

Carlos had not moved. He was like a statue.Then, as the notes filled his mind, his head tilted slightly and he started smiling. His hands slowly rose, then suddenly he clapped once loudly! and simultaneously stamped his heels. As his feet hit the floor and his hands came together Rodrigo played a rolling strum. …and the dance started.

It was as though Carlos and Rodrigo had some sort of mental telepathy going. They were not even looking at each other!

Carlos poured his heart and soul out on to the stage, he was stripped so bare it was almost embarassing. And he grabbed, with each hand, a piece of every patron's heart, and made it his own.

I felt I almost understood what Flamenco was really about.

The movement, the clapping, the guitar, the heels clacking, I felt like I was drowning – in Carlos.

Then it was over.

Carlos stood swaying and pale.

The Patrons went beserk. Screaming Carlos! Rodrigo! over and over and over. Carlos bowed and headed for the door, but he didn't look like he would make it. I raced across the stage and picked him up. He gave me a weak smile. I carried him out to the desk and Juan.

"I think he may have overdone it a little," I said.

"Bring him in here, his bedroom is just down this corridor."

I carried him to his bed and gently laid him down.Juan and I loosened his clothes (just a little) and I removed his boots.

"He will be alright," said Juan, "but could you stay with him while I deal with the patrons?"

"Of course."

"Was it good for you Peter?"

I ignored the innuendo. "Carlos, that was the most amazing dance I have ever seen – I am gobsmacked! But are you alright?"

"I will be OK," he murmured "I just need a rest."

He held his hand out to me… and I took it in mine.

He smiled at me and I could not help myself – I leant over and kissed him on the forehead.

He squeezed my hand "thank you Señor."

The door opened and Rodrigo stepped in.

"How is the patient?"

"Señor Lopez. I will be fine in a few minutes."

"I have never seen you dance like that before, Carlos. I didn't know you could dance like that. Where on earth did that come from?"

Carlos looked over at me and smiled again.

Rodrigo shook his head "I'm sure I don't understand what is happening here, but I can feel the electricity between you two. For pity's sake! You have only known each other for one day! I beg both of you to be very careful."

He kissed Carlos on the cheek, shook my hand, shook his head again and left.

Carlos giggled. "He always worries so much."

I took his hand again, "I'm worried about you too, and I think if I stay here you will be your normal chatterbox self, and you won't get any rest. So… I'm going back to the bar for another beer."

I kissed his forehead again.

"Goodnight Carlos. I imagine I'll see you tomorrow."

"I imagine you're right Señor," He winked.

Chapter 4

Time went by quickly and I settled into a routine.

Weekdays, Carlos would go to school. When he came home I would sometimes help him with his homework, sometimes we would walk to a close by local attraction. In the weekends, Carlos and I would go further afield, usually by bus, and spend a few hours exploring the area. The beach was a favorite spot – one day I'll tell you about Carlos in Satin-like Green speedos. Saturday afternoon was Flamenco lessons – I would usually go along – Rodrigo Lopez warmed to me slowly as he realized I meant no harm to Carlos, and we became quite friendly. Friday and Saturday nights Carlos danced at the Taverna – Rodrigo made sure that things didn't get quite as intense again.

Days passed, weeks passed, months passed and I kept making excuses to explain why I was still there.

One evening, about 6 months later, I was sitting in the bar with Rodrigo and Juan. Juan was being unusually quiet. He took a sip of beer and looked up at me. "So, Peter, how is your book going?"

"To tell the truth, Juan, I got all the material I need, some time ago. But I'm really enjoying the lifestyle, the city, the Taverna, the food and…" I paused.

Rodrigo finished for me "…and then there is Carlos."

I nodded, "I will admit that Carlos has become very special to me."

Juan agreed, "yes, we have noticed – its all right – we know you won't hurt him."

Rodrigo spoke quietly, "He is totally infatuated with you. Please forgive me for saying this – but I am not sure that it is healthy for a young boy to be quite as involved with a grown man as Carlos is with you."

I gave him a weak smile. "I have been trying to ignore that." I said, "I enjoy his company so much that I am reluctant to think about the consequences for him." I paused. "You are right, I will miss this place badly, but I must go, For Carlos' sake. I guess that deep down, I knew this would come – give me two weeks to tidy up some things, and I shall be on my way."

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

Carlos wandered past wearing his normal beautiful smile. My heart was nearly breaking.

"Carlos," I said, "Come and sit down for a minute."

He did.

"I was just telling Juan and Rodrigo that I have all the material I need for my book now, so in two weeks I will be leaving."

His smile vanished. "Whaaaat? No! Please say this is a joke…" His eyes filled with tears.

"We have had a really good time, and I will miss you enormously, but it is time for me to move on."

"Peter? Please? Don't go?" he wailed, "I can't… I don't… pleeeeaaase?… noooooo…"

He stumbled away, tears steaming down his face.

"I will go after him," Juan said, "he will be allright."

"I will go to my roon as well," I said. My eyes were fairly wet too.

***

I didn't see Carlos the next day. Juan said he just wanted to stay in his room. He didn't turn up for his dance practise. He didn't dance at the Taverna on Friday or Saturday.

A week went by and Carlos still refused to come out of his room. Juan said his eyes looked empty, and he was still crying.

Another week went by – Carlos was still in his room.

I went to see Rodrigo.

"Are we sure we are doing the right thing?" I asked.

"Peter," he sighed " I have never seen Carlos look so miserable. He won't even dance – and that is his passion… I thought he would have got over it by now." He looked at the floor for a while. "Let us find Juan, and talk."

We went back to the Taverna. Juan was sweeping up in the bar.

Rodrigo called out to him. "We need to talk"

"Yes we do." Juan came over and we all sat at a table.

"Now what?" said Rodrigo. "Peter, what do you think?"

"I feel dreadful," I said, " You know I feel very deeply about Carlos, and I promised both of you that I would never hurt him. Now I feel that I have broken his trust, and betrayed his love, and hurt him very deeply… I feel ashamed of myself but I still don't know what to do."

Juan and Rodrigo looked at each other.

Juan spoke, "That is how we feel too. I think we have made a mistake. We thought that Carlos just had a crush on you and that it would soon pass. But it seems that his feelings are deeper than that. Is it still possible for you to stay a little longer Peter? Not for ever, just a little longer… and then perhaps he will start looking at girls and then it will be easier for you to live your own life again."

It was a long speech for Juan. I looked at Rodrigo questioningly.

"I think that is a poor plan… but it is a lot better than the last one – at least we will have a happy Carlos again. And that is what we all want I think."

I sighed. "I have made no plans. To be honest, I have been almost as miserable as Carlos. I would love to stay on, as you said, not for ever, but just for a little longer."

Juan got up. "I will fetch him."

A few minutes passed then Juan and Carlos came back to the table and sat down.

Carlos nodded to me. "Good evening Señor Cabinet".

I nearly cried.

Rodrigo put his hand up. "Carlos… we have done the wrong thing. We thought it would be better for you if Peter left, because you had a crush on him, and that you would get over it really quickly." He stopped. "We should not have done this. We should have talked to you about it first. Carlos… we are so sorry. We have asked Peter if he can stay for a while longer, but it is up to you."

Carlos stood up. His eyes were blazing.

"You did what?!!" He almost hissed. "You saw that Peter was making me happy so you decided to put a stop to it? And you though it would be good for me?" He turned and looked at me. "And you just went along with it? How could you do that?"

I stood up too. I looked at him for a long moment then got down on my knees. "Carlos… That was the worst mistake I have ever made. Every night since then I have woken up with tears in my eyes." I loked at Juan and Rodrigo. "I am going to say something that could probably get me thrown in jail."

I looked back at Carlos. "I am totally, head over heels, abolutely in love with you. I can't imagine what life would be like without you around. If you will smile for me, I promise that I will never go away from you again – unless that is what you wish."

I looked back at Juan and Rodrigo.

"That does not mean that I will suddenly become a child molestor. If Carlos will ever forgive me, I will guard him with my life."

I stood up.

"Carlos… please…"

He flung himself at me. "Peeeeeteeeer!"

His arms went around me and my arms crushed him to me.

"Carlos… my Carlos."

I stroked his hair and kissed to the top of his head and said his name over and over into his ear.

We just stood there for a couple of minutes.

"Ahem," coughed Rodrigo "If you two lovebirds would like to go for a walk somewhere, I will help Juan prepare the Taverna for the evening."

"Yes," said Carlos. "We can go and sit in the park."

His eyes were full of tears again (so were mine) but he was smiling at me. I let him go – except for one hand which I held firmly, and we walked out of the Taverna. The park was deserted and we found a bench beside a stream. We sat down and our arms went round each other. We didn't say much – I tried to apologize again but he put his finger to my lips.

"It is over – we shall not speak of it. And… there is one good thing."

"What is that?"

"You said you love me."

"Yes, I did, and I mean it."

"I know… and I am in love with you too." He thought for a moment. "It is a strange thing this love… it is like a deep ache, and it makes me feel giddy, and it is wonderful, all at the same time."

We just held each other for a long time. We watched the stars reflecting in the stream and I stroked his hair and his back and I kissed him on the forehead and the top of the head and he stroked my arms and he nuzzled into my neck and we murmured the same stuff that lovers have whispered to each other for thousands of years.

***

We settled back into a routine. School, homework, dance lessons, dancing at the taverna, day trips to everywhere we could think of. Always there was that smile and those eyes and that hand in mine. Every day we seemed to be deeper in love, but still I kept my promise – no child molesting.

It wasn't easy.

More months went by, I had now been at the Taverna nearly a year. Carlos had his twelfth birthday and there was a party, of course.Friends and relations from all over Mexico arrived and we partied till the small hours of the morning. He had to dance several times and he didn't seem to mind. He was the reason everyone was there and he was revelling in it. I was introduced to many, many people – Juan introduced me as a guest at the Taverna, and Carlos introduced me as "My friend Peter", which raised a few eyebrows. Everyone was friendly though and the evening went well.

We didn't get up till late the next day. I wandered downstairs and found Carlos, Juan and Rodrigo talking with a striking looking woman in her, probably, early sixties.

" Hey Peter, come over," said Carlos.

I went over and sat down.

"This is Peter Cabinet," Juan introduced me, "and this is my cousin Graciella Porta."

"Pleased to meet you" I said.

"So," she spoke sharply, "You are the travel writer who likes young boys."

There was a sudden silence.

"No," I replied quietly. "I am the travel writer who likes a young boy – singular – only this one."

She laughed, "and are you happy Carlos?"

"I don't think I have ever been happier Aunt. I am in love."

He gazed at me and smiled.

"Yes, I can see you are," she grinned. She pondered for a minute.

"I own a motel about 2 hours east of here, I insist that you two come and stay with me. I shall keep a room available for you."

I grinned back at her, "Thank you Graciella, that is very kind of you, but we would need two rooms."

She looked puzzled. "You mean…? You have not…" She looked at Juan. "I sense interference by a foolish old man with a bad memory."

"Graciella – he is only twelve."

"Surely, you have not forgotten Jon?"

Juan looked embarressed, "No, of course not."

"What has uncle Jon got to do with it?" queried Carlos.

"Hmppph!" said Graciella, "only that Jon and Juan were lovers for about twenty years…"

She glared at Juan. "Would you like to tell us how old you were when Jon came into your life?"

"Ummmm… twelve…"

"And did he make you happy?"

"Yes Graciella. He did."

Now she glared at Rodrigo. "And shall we talk about the man who taught you to play guitar?"

"I would prefer not… and before you ask, yes – we were happy."

Carlos' eyes were wide and his mouth was open. "You and Uncle Jon? and you too Señor Lopez?"

"Close your mouth before something flies in," said Graciella. "Enough of this nonsense. My car is outside. You two…" pointing at Carlos and me, "put some clothes in a bag, you're coming with me. and there shall be one room only and one double bed."

"Graciella, I…" Juan tried to speak.

"Hush," she said, "have you no heart? These two are besotted with each other. They are clearly deeply in love and you think that because one of them is a twelve year old boy, that it is not important? That you have the right to stand between them?"

"What are you standing there for?" this to Carlos and I, "go and pack while I sort these clowns out."

We started to walk away.

"A moment," she said, "Rodrigo, you are a magistrate, tell us the laws regarding 'Age of Consent' in Campeche."

"This law is different in Campeche than in many other areas" he said, reluctantly, "it states that at the age of twelve, a boy may consent to being in a sexual relationship, and if his guardian agrees, and a magistrate agrees, then the act is lawful." He glared at Graciella. He was silent far a long time – then he looked at Carlos.

"I am still not sure about this – but I will not object."

Juan moved over and hugged Carlos."You have grown up so fast – to me you are stll a child – but Graciella has made me look at you with my eyes open."

He looked whistful "I will not object either."

"No-one has asked me or Peter yet," said Carlos.

"Peter, will you please be my lover?" What simple words. What a depth of meaning.

The world seemed to stop turning. My eyes overflowed. I picked him up, held him to me and kissed him on the lips.

"Does that mean yes?" he said, eventually.

"Yes my darling Carlos, it does."

I threw some clothes in a bag and rushed back downstairs. Carlos was waiting. He looked so beautiful and so happy.

"Right you two," said Graciella, "into the car."

Group hug time. Juan, Rodrigo, Graciella, Carlos and I. There was not a dry eye to be seen. Then we were off. Graciella told us to sit in the back.

"I promise not to look," she said, "much…"

"Just try to keep your clothes on till we get there…"

Carlos and I kissed and hugged and stroked each other everywhere we could reach with our clothes on. The car drove on into the night. After about an hour I said quietly to Carlos, "Do you know about the sorts of things that men and boys can do together?"

He giggled.

We talked very quietly – in whispers.

"A boy at school had some pictures," he smirked. "They showed a man putting his cock right inside a boy's bottom!"

"I'll tell you a secret," he continued, "The night after I saw the pictures, I has a wet dream about you doing that to me! It was soooo hot!"

"And I will tell you a secret," I answered, "I have had wet dreams about doing that with you! But I'm afraid I might be just a bit too big for you – we will have to wait for that. There are lots of other things we can enjoy though."

He giggled again."I will tell you another secret. I have been quite naughty I think. After I had the wet dream, I was preparing carrots in the kitchen when I noticed their shape. I put a fairly small one into my bottom.It felt really nice and I kept it there for a while, then I took it out and cleaned it very well, then I peeled it and I cooked it, and I made sure… that you got it with your dinner. I watched you eating it and I nearly had an accident in my shorts – you were eating someting that had been inside me!"

"You little mischief! I should smack your bottom!"

"Mmmmmm," he said, "you probably should….. But that is not all. Every few days I got a carrot that was a little bit bigger and I did it again. I hope you like carrots Peter, because I made sure you got plenty of them… And now, I can put a really big carrot in me and keep it there for ages and It feels neat and I imagine it is you…"

A muffled splutter came from the front seat. "I think you should stop talking till you get in your room. This is getting a bit hot for an old lady to handle!"

"God Almighty Carlos," she said. "You are such a little hottie! I would have you myself if I thought I could get away with it. Its just as well I turned up when I did – I can't imagine what the food safety people would say about your confession… Just get kissing again and stop talking."

I looked at Carlos. "Do you think I could have another kiss?"

I couldn't talk anymore after that. My mouth was full of Carlos' tongue.

We disentangled ourselves as the car turned into the motel.

"Come though the office," Graciella said. "You shall have the honeymoon unit. It is away fron the other rooms and you will not be disturbed."

She reached into a drawer, got out a small package and slipped it into Carlos' pocket. "Open it later."

She showed us to our room, spacious, bright, all mod cons and a big picture window, which she firmly pulled the curtains across. "I don't want to see either of you before luchtime!"

She closed the door behind her.

I held Carlos to me.

"Wait, Peter," he said. "I want to dance for you first."

"I would love that…"

He put a wooden chair into the middle of the room. "If you would, please sit there."

He wasn't wearing his Flamenco gear. Just jeans, tee shirt, and bare feet. No music. He stood in front of me with his hands at his sides, then slowly his heels began to drum on the floor. He was staring straight ahead. His hands fluttered. One arm reached up, then the other, then his body rippled, from his feet slowly up to his head. He was turning sinuously, his hands sliding over his body, caressing and stroking himself. His eyes locked with mine, and I felt myself sinking into his depths.

I don't know how long this continued, but I gradually became aware that his shirt had gone – his torso was shining with sweat, his muscles flexing. He was still stroking himself – his nipples stood out like little cherries.Then his hands moved to his belt buckle, one quick flick and the belt was gone.He undid the button at his waist, then ever so slowly pulled the zip down. He shrugged his hips and the jeans fell to the ground. He stepped out of them and kicked them to one side.

Totally naked twelve year old boy.

Totally naked, erect twelve year old boy.

My totally naked, erect twelve year old boy.

He stopped dancing about 2 feet in front of me.

He stood proudly. "Kiss me Peter."

I did.

On the mouth.

His little tongue flicked out and found mine. I heard myself groan.

I was lost.

"Carry me to the bed Peter."

I was his slave. I picked him up and gently put him down on my bed. I lost the dressing gown and kissed him again. His arms were stroking my back and holding me to him. I broke the kiss and looked at him – just so beautiful… I kissed his eyes, one at a time, then his nose, mouth and chin. I licked his nipples and ever so lightly ran my fingernails along his sides. He squirmed and made little whimpering noises.I worked my way down to his belly button and washed it out with my tongue. I was still stroking his body and he was still whimpering.I looked below his belly button and zeroed in on his cock. Coffee colored, hard as steel, and with a droplet of liquid on the tip. I kissed the head. Then licked it thoroughly and sank my mouth down on it.

He grabbed my head with both hands "Peeeeter" he cried.

My hands were busy with his legs now, stroking his inner thighs, cupping his testicles oh so carefully.

His whimpering was getting louder "Peteeeer" he said "you will make me come in your mouth!"

"I do hope so" I said, around a mouthful of twelve year old cock, and renewed working on him.

His body was twisting and arching and I could tell he was getting close.

Then his hands clenched my hair "AAAAYYYYYYY!!!! AAAAARRRRGGGGHHH!!!!!! EEERRRUUUUUGHH!" Three lovely long spurts of Carlos juice and lots of ooze.

I swallowed and used my tongue and fingers to make sure there was no more available. I lay down over him, taking most of the weight on my elbows, and held him close while he came down.

"Oh Peter, that was sooo good, I have never had sex with anyone before, so you are my first."

"And you are the first boy I have ever had sex with, so you are my first."

I rolled us over so he was on top – I could get at more of him like that. I stroked his back and kissed him. His hand wriggled down between us.

"I think I found something interesting!"

He had indeed – he rolled off me and looked at his discovery closely.

"I like it," he said, "but it looks sad coz its got a tear in its eye. I know! I shall kiss it better!"

He lowered his mouth to my erection and kissed it slowly – I could feel his tongue playing with the slit.He licked up one side and down the other.

"It doesn't look very comfortable Peter, its all red and swollen! What do you think we should do with it?"

I groaned, "Carlos my love. You don't have to do anything with it – I am already in heaven."

"Hmmmm," he pretended to be thinking, "I've got an idea."

He bent down to the side of the bed and found his jeans. He fumbled in the pocket for a moment.

"Aha! there it is!"

He had a tube of K.Y. Jelly in his hand.

"A present from my Aunt."

He sat up, squirted some K.Y. jelly on his fingers and rubbed it on my cock. He squirted another blob on his fingers and rubbed it on and in his glorious butt. He lay down and lifted his legs up and back. So his pucker was exposed to me.

" Make love to me. Now. Please."

My heart was beating so hard I coudn't hear myself thinking.

"Carlos…. yes… now…"

I put the head of my cock up against his beautiful rosebud. We both twitched as it touched him. I applied just a bit of pressure, and he opened up like a flower… and I slid inside him. I stopped about half way in, in case I hurt him.

"Give me all of it Peter," he gasped.

I did.

Ball deep and still pushing, inside the 12 year old boy I had fallen in love with. I don't know how to describe the feeling. hot – yes, tight – yes, friction – yes. But these were almost unimportant.

I was making love to my Carlos. And that was the only thing that really mattered.

He was stroking my arms with his hands, his eyes were slitted, and he was making quiet sounds of happiness.

"Peter," he said. "Having you inside me is even better than I imagined, I love you so much."

"And I love you, completely."

I withdrew my cock about half way, paused, then slid it back in. He moaned softly.

I did it again.

I took it about two thirds out and slid back in a little faster.

"Yes!" he said, "moooore please."

I started getting a rythym going. Not too fast – I wanted this to last. He was moaning constantly now, he had a sort of half grin that kept vanishing then reappearing, and he'd stopped talking. I took my cock almost right out – he looked startled – then just slipped it in and out of the entrance to his canal of love. His moaning was getting louder and I noticed that his delectable cocklet was standing up hard again. and oozing. I slid right back inside in one movement, then changed the rythym. A bit faster and a bit more thrust, so when I hit bottom his body bounced a little.

"Carlos, "I moaned, "I love you so much it hurts – this is just wonderful!"

He didn't seem to hear me – he was lost in a world of sensation. I increased the speed and thrust again.

His eyes blinked, "Peteeeeeerrrrrr! I'm going to come again!"

His cock was twitching and oozing onto his stomach. The sight of that was too much for me. I felt a steam train of passion riding up my body.

"You're. not. the. only. one. who's. going. to. explode!"

I almost withdrew from him and just moved the tip of my cock in and out slowly while I waited for the crest to hit him.

His body arched.

"AAAARRRRGH! GURRRRRRRRRRB! NNNNGGGGGGGGGG!"

I drove my cock home. Hard.

"MEEEEARRRRGGHHHH! WWWAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY! KYYYYYYYYYYYN!" he said.

I fired bullet after bullet of come into the middle of his orgasm.The more I came the more he shuddered and moaned. and the more he shuddered and moaned, the more I came. I suspect that I made a few slightly incoherent noises myself.I collapsed on to him.

We held each other. We were both crying. We just lay there and felt each other's heartbeats. Gradually we regained the power of speech.

"I guess this means we're lovers now," he grinned.

"I guess so," I smiled.

Appendix - My Carlos

Carlos, My Carlos… what can I say. My love, my sweetheart, my very reason for living.

A quick description for anyone who does not know him.

12 years old.

Light coffee colored Mexican.

Wavy fine stranded black hair that cascades to his shoulders.

Slender – not skinny – I think "lithe" is the best word.

The longest sexiest legs you have ever seen.

His feet are drop dead gorgeous – I love to lick his soles and suck on his toes – it turns him on like a lamp.

Turns me on too.

He has slim delicate fingers – when he is speaking they are always moving.

Not in a sort of waving of the hands and arms way, his hands are still – just his fingers, curling and uncurling.

It fascinates me.

I like sucking his fingers too.

Fairly high cheekbones and fine, delicate features.

His eyes…Crystalline Brown, so clear, soooo deep you can drown in them. (I do – frequently).

Long black eyelashes – way to long for a boy – but they suit him perfectly.

What have I missed – oh yes – his mouth.

Nearly always smiling – not too big or too small – sensual lips that say "kiss me".

His body is just starting to develop obvious muscles – you can see the beginning of pecs and a six pack.

The first hair is sprouting on his chest and under his arms, and he has the softest little nest of hair at the base of his cock.

Ah yes – I have yet to describe his mexican sausage.

Not huge – but very respectable for his age. Coffee colored, like the rest of him, when its soft it is just so cute, curled up against his pubes.

I watch it sometimes when he is asleep – that sounds creepy, but he knows I do it and he says it makes him feel sexy.

Sometimes it twitches when he is dreaming, and sometimes I touch it ever so lightly with my tongue, if I'm really careful, I can give him a wet dream, and catch his juice in my mouth. He knows I do that too.

Every know and again he calls my name out when he comes.

He says I can do that anytime I like.

When his cock stirs, in my hand or in my mouth, it seems lazy for a little while, then wakes up and stretches.

He is uncut, so I get the extra pleasure of watching the tip peek though his foreskin, then slowly push its blanket of skin off and come out to play.

I just had to get a ruler to measure it. He thinks its funny that I'm writing about his cock.

It's just on 8½ cm [3½"] long, and at the moment its rather red and its very hard and its got a little pearl of moisture in its eye.

I can feel it throbbing in my hand, so I may have to take a break from typing because I find it hard to type with one hand and hold his cock with the other, while a naked 12 year old boy is rubbing the crotch of my jeans…

***

Some time later…

I suppose, to be fair, I should tell you what just happened.

I saved the story, and stood up from my laptop.

I was only wearing jeans, and Carlos had the belt and button undone before I stood up properly. He was already naked, as you can tell from the preceding text. He unzipped my jeans and his hand slipped inside. He looked disappointed. "I wish you didn't wear undies"

I dropped the jeans and stepped out of my undies.

"That's better" he purred, "Now I can get at it"

I was already half erect and it didn't take much attention from his little fingers before I was rock hard.

"I wish I could get it in my mouth, Peter, but its just to big for me…"

He settled for licking it, up and down and around, and sucking on the head, and flicking his darting tongue across the slit. While he was doing this, his hands were busy. One on my balls and the other working my cock stem. (The touch of those little fingers drives me crazy)

"Stop!" I cried. "I don't want to come so quickly."

"Spoil sport!" He grinned.

I hugged him to me and kissed him on the forehead – trying to calm things down a little. He squirmed against me like a little naked brown eel – That didn't exactly help calm things down.

I could feel our cocks rubbing together.

So could he.

He wiggled his butt and I nearly exploded.

I picked him up and lay on the bed with him lying flat on top of me. I stroked his back and caressed his butt.

He was working himself against me and making "aaaaaaaahhhhhh" sounds.

I reached over for the KY jelly (its never very far away) and squirted a good amount between us. I took good care to get both our cocks smeared in it. I wiped my hand on a towel (also never very far away).

I held him tightly to me again.

"Now you can squirm all you like," I said.

He did.

Lots.

"Peeeeter!" he murmured, "I like this… you are holding me and I'm feeling so safe and so hot and… it is like we are both fucking each other at the same time!"

I could feel every twitch of his cock rubbing alongside my own. His heart was thumping against my chest and he was humping me for all he was worth. His knees were drawn up a little so as to get some grip and I was squeezing his butt cheeks. I slid a finger along his crack and gently rubbed the outside of his pucker.

"Ayyyyyyyyayyyyyyayayyyyyyyyy" he said.

I pushed a little harder and just the tip of my finger popped inside him.

He squealed. and humped even harder.

"I can't stand it!" he moaned.

"I……

I……

I'm……

I'm………

I'm…………

…….Cuuuuuuuuummmminnnggggggg!"

And his back arched.

And his hands clawed at me.

And he came.

And that (funnily enough) was all it took to trigger me.

I could feel both our cocks gushing between us. His hips were grinding into me.

I could feel the texture of each loooong spuuuurt as it geysered out of me.

We both moaned and spasmed for what seemed like a lifetime.

I must have nearly crushed him, I was holding him so tight.

We just held each other without talking for a while and enjoyed the afterglow.

Carlos nuzzled my neck "We've got to do that again…"

I stroked his hair. "You can bet on that – but it might take me a while to recover from that one."

"Not now, silly," he giggled. "We can just cuddle for a while, and have a shower, and maybe then?"

"We shall see," I laughed, "I still have to finish my story."

"Are you going to write about my cock again?"

"I think I'll stay away from that for the moment, or I'll never get any writing done."

"But," I said, "I just might write about what we just did, because that was HOT!"

"Cool! Then I can read it and then we can do it again."

"But first I'm having a shower," his eyes lit up… "on my own!" I said. "Otherwise you'll set me going again."

"You're a big meanie!" he smiled "spoiling all my fun. I suppose you'll make me shower alone too?"

"You got it," I nodded.

"And then you can read my story, and then… we shall see what happens next"

"I might have some ideas about that." Je winked – "I'll have first shower then."

The End