… two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead?

I must confess…

…I find myself having one of those moments when you can see yourself doing something you know is a little naughty and a little dangerous but just can’t help yourself because it’s so fun? While BabyBoy was out with friends, I joined my team of luxury professionals out on the town and had one of those moments a few weeks back. As I sat in the opulent epicentre of epicurean delight nestled in a world renowned boutique hotel favoured by Kings, a Queen of Talk-shows and revered elder Statesmen the gastronomic experience alone was enough to satisfy anyone. The handsome, knowledgeable and charming Sous Chef flambéing the steak Dianne left me wanting more and while restrained, I skirted along the dangerous cliff to the abyss of shadows where dirty deeds are done dirt cheap and the light exposes the hidden truths of carnal delights. In the early hours of the morning that comes afterwards, that devil-may care smile and razor sharp humour lingers like his cologne on my mind and I am bewitched.

…I find myself in another hotel dining room, no less impressive but more discrete in the Mother City a few days later trying to keep warm beside an open wood fire while an ocean swept wind whipped and whistled around the white walls of the Twelve Apostle Mountains outside. Opposite me, my business partner and an old friend enjoying their meals. Somewhere in the darkness without, one of my largest corporate clients and his colleague are enroute, driving not only my future but the plans we are crafting while eat. My friend, like the prince’s of fairytales we read is tall, handsome with waving chestnut hair and with effortless ease charms you unknowingly with his anecdotes, private-school boy manners and light humour. With BabyBoy thousands of miles away yet always in the back of my mind, the hour is late, the night dark and cold I make the offer. In the silence of the cavernous hotel suite I lay there listening to his breathing, not because we are sexually compatible, but because I am too excited by what will come and I am bewildered.

…I ordered another cappuccino before slipping the complimentary magazine from its phallic sheathe and flipped through the unmemorable content printed on the pages within. But then, one picture seen so many times before, crippled my inhibitions and I am obsessed once again by this pagan g’d I briefly conversed with and dismissed over a glass of wine while standing in a dimly lit courtyard at a gallery opening. Rushing home, I find myself searching for the invitation that may, or may not contain a name or some sort of clue to who this statue of corporal perfection may be. And like the sun-g’d Apollo, he stands bronzed and a reminder of the polysensual desires we all have deep inside to have that perfection ourselves, and if not, possess it for only a night of carnal discovery and satisfaction. With my own BabyBoy tucked safely in bed next to me, I find this demi-g’d more like Aristogitien with his own Harmodius no less impressive. My imperial inclinations whimper and whither knowing history will be my legacy not the might-have-been but rather leave as friends in the morning.


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