| abstract
| - Our evening started with a verbal joust on matters of philosophy. Within two hours, I finally got around to ridding Josym of that pesky virginity. It was a most satisfactory endeavor; like any first time with a young man, nerves gave way to enthusiasm, and satisfaction was ultimately achieved. But I’m jumping ahead in my narrative...I’m still quite giddy, even though we finished several hours ago. Ah, well, I shall go back to the cause... The game was afoot right after Josym plucked one final nibble of soignet crumble off his dessert plate and sent the flaky piece to its temporary resting place. One quick swallow, and then the most bizarre set of words passed forth from my beloved’s mouth. “Love grows, love endures, beauty flourishes.” I almost choked on my claret. Had something hallucinogenic fallen into the pastry shell, or possibly the soigna berries were overly ripe? Reassurance about Josym’s mental stability came along with one of his smiles that will probably never cease to cause a flutter in my stomach. “Love and beauty are inseparable. That’s what it says in the book.” “Oh, that makes sense.” I knew he was talking about a wispy tome of general verse that we passed back and forth across the table. It seems unusual, reading poetry over dinner. But we’ve been here in the mountains for two weeks, and our meals here in The Candy Box Suite have escalated into excursions through our respective interests. Caught amidst the silky confections of spice red and milky white, sunlight gold and moonlight silver, on the bed covers, the chandelier, the portrait mirror high above the mantel...this room is a vibrant oasis to engage urges both intellectual and otherwise, as we realized tonight. Obvious circumstances affected our inclinations toward sex. Disenchantment plus anguish brought about by the Prestat’s declaration regarding the oubliette clung like choke vines to our psyches. Since we’ve been here, there’s been time for relaxation, and the chance to deepen our relationship. We reached the apogee tonight with the help of poetry. Strange, yes, but why question a method if it works? While Jos chased down the last of his fruit crumble with some leftover kahve that had gone cold, I placed our little volume on the table between two candlesticks for easier perusal. “Where in this stanza does it mention love and beauty as interconnected?” “Look at the final line. ‘Love grows, love endures, beauty flourishes.’ It’s glowing like ultraneon. You can’t have love without beauty, or beauty without love.” How could love require the illusion of perfection in order to exist? Where did Josym pick up such an idea? The schoolrooms of the patricians have implanted many strange and often pathetic notions that only serve to poison their minds. Love is pure, it elevates the dissolute, brings peace to those disturbed by loneliness...yet it can also be the agent of so much pain and grief. But this energy belongs to nothing other than itself-good and bad sides, joy sublime and pain divine... love doesn’t require another element. Particularly beauty...at least, the mortal version of beauty. There is something intangible which exists within the universe that can be named “beauty”. But it’s transcendent, not imprisoned by misconceptions of artificial things like the impossibly perfect body that never ages or suffers flaws great and small. So what does this mean about Josym? Is he that shallow to believe in the impermanence of physical appearance? Does his heart respond to nothing more than lust? “All emotions belong to the soul.” He reached across to point at the final line, and managed to trace one of those magnificent fingers across my wrist. Oh, why did that gesture confuse me? I pulled my hand away from his grasp. “When did you come across such a funny idea?” He looked hurt. “Where else would emotions be?” “The brain. Emotions are biochemical in origin, influenced by hormones to create reactions that mimic actions rumored to be exalted.” It wasn’t like me to make a retreat into standard biology; the dry, lifeless sound of textbook language falling past my teeth was almost frightening. Was it necessary to pull inward and force myself into detachment? “That doesn’t sound romantic. Blood, tissue, and flesh, but nothing immaterial.” Josym shook his head. “Love needs a spiritual basis to make it real.” Now I was confused. His words emanated from idealism, pure and sweet. The utterance of an innocent...maybe I was letting doubt cloud my judgement. How could I believe anything wrong about him? “Is there anything good about a pairing based on intangibles?” This was a trick question, and perhaps unfair, but suspicion still lingered in my heart. I wanted him to say the right words; he needed to answer my question with “Yes”. Josym reached out again, and I didn’t pull away. Whatever the response, I needed to feel his touch. “The spirit’s hard to understand.” Practicing the slippery art of beating-round-the-hedgerow, now there’s a trait he acquired from his paternal uncle. It’s not born from deception, but nervousness. Some people might find this quirk unsettling, for the logical mind thirsts for truth in affairs of the heart. But I learned to enjoy this peculiarity with Reuhan, and now it was something meant to be treasured in his nephew. "Wait, did that make any sense?” He frowned; it’s always difficult stating one’s intentions when feelings are strong but caught round each other like knotted spools of thread. "I mean, the soul is our center, what makes us better than plants.” He cringed. "Here I am, rambling like an idiot.” All my defenses gave way after this valiant attempt. “Perhaps you mean to say that the best kind of love requires balance. Harmony between the spiritual and physical is what everyone should have in romance. Does that sound adequate?” “Adequate is no way to describe this bond.” He grabbed my hand. Josym’s heart carries all the untapped virtues of brilliance and purity; anyone that will capture his fancy will know those affections as her...mine...eternal gift. “Tell me you want something more than we’re allowed by law.” What an odd plea, in the midst of already jumbled circumstances. Yet, not really shocking, since I understand the depth of his nobility, that gentle righteousness which could inspire a great wave of reforms on this world if he decides to chase down a Council seat. Should he ever reach the lofty perch of Second or First, the opportunities for change will be astounding. “I want anything that will make you happy.” “Funny, that’s what I want for us.” His thumb squeezed underneath my fingers; that determination shall carry this dear boy to every corner of the galaxy and back again if common sense doesn’t inhibit his boldness. “What sort of union shall we undertake?” “Like I said, something that isn’t legal on Deiu.” “The common law route, perhaps?” “Second and third sons can get away with that arrangement, if they happen to be widowers or never had to continue the bloodline.” I nodded. It’s not uncommon for younger sons of the Prestatures to remain unmarried, focusing their affections upon courtesans. Most of them go through companions like carafes of wine at a banquet, but some remain faithful to individual cortigia for many years. Personal experience is the best teacher in this case: Lord Reunahn always wished to buy me from the Cortigiamira so we could get married. Of course that isn’t allowed, so we’ve lived in another way for seven years. “I want everything.” “You have to wed a nice aristocratic girl and procreate like herd animals.” “Do you think I’m worried about what other people want me to pursue?” “You don’t have a choice.” “There’s always multiple paths for anyone, from moment to moment, until the end.” “Now you’re invoking fairy tales to justify twisted logic.” “That sentiment doesn’t just show up in Forby’s Venture. Remember when The Star had to escape from Alyms? He was trapped between five boulders, and didn’t think he could find any way out of there.” Josym plucked the last fresh napkin from a bread plate, then opened it with a twirling flourish. “There, bound against his will by a large stone quintet, his only hope of freedom prevented by treacherous happenstance, our poor celestial traveler knew only despair as the storm clouds gathered overhead and the heavens opened up with a deluge.” His fingers traced across the napkin, then raised it above our heads like a miniature canopy. “Suddenly, down from the Outer World, falling slow, came a little slice of divine intervention. Salmere, the messenger, entered from stage left, the agent of mercy for our intrepid hero. One bolt of lightning from the messenger’s palm struck the offensive rocks and sent them into oblivion. Henceforth, The Star was free to clamber down the hillside and back home to his dearest Maiden.” There is a storyteller tucked away in Josym’s brain. Extracting a pivotal element from ancient mythology to illustrate a belief...well, that’s my idea of romance. After many weeks of gentle persuasion, especially after his evocation of the old stories, how could I resist the obvious pull from destiny? It was the perfect night for consummation. Of course it was my duty, but it was also my pleasure. We threw aside those stupid rituals mandated for an heir’s initiation. Seduction requires only two components: desire, and the opportunity to act upon that wish for mutual bodily satisfaction. Since both criteria were fulfilled back at our first meeting, the only requirement to bring Josym and I into bed was a pithy exchange of words. I started the process by conceding defeat in our little debate. “Maybe you’re right. Love and beauty are linked. Love is beauty’s soul, and beauty is love’s truth. Both halves of the equation must exist if we’re going to do something unconventional.” “I thought my first time would be rather simple, at least until I’ve read some manuals.” Saucy boy...indeed, he is my best student...hopefully, my last assignment... So that matter now belongs to the immediate past. In the present, Josym is next to me, and looks utterly sublime in slumber. We’ve had a fabulous introduction to a realm that is new for him, and, in a peculiar way, feels unique for me. Many times I’ve been with a young man and brought him across that milestone threshold, but tonight was the first time I’ve felt alive… Ah, interruption; my dear one is awake...here comes a hand over my right hip...then down along my stomach...
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