Indisposed

Gavin had arrived from Geneva earlier in the day, but he wanted a breather and had a lot of paper work to go through before the Cyprus reunification talks he was moderating for the UN began on April 1st. Therefore, he'd booked for the night into a five-star beach resort, the Four Seasons, west of the airport on the southern coast, at Limassol. He would go up to Nicosia, the country's capital, located in the center of the island, the next day. These negotiations were his big chance to move ahead in the UN Secretariat. He knew it was a test of his ability and diplomatic dexterity. There was little hope of the Greeks and Turks coming to a reunification settlement, although the need for inclusion in the EU was a stronger incentive to reunify now than ever before and the two sides had been inching toward each other ever so imperceptibly over the last decade.

His job—like that of the representatives of the divided communities sharing the island—was to show some progress and to make anyone but his own side responsible for any lack of progress. If he were lucky enough to have been involved in forging any form of greater agreement in the process, his career as an international negotiator would take off.

He'd been told that both the Greeks and the Turks were masters at these turf wars and he'd have to be masterful himself to remain above and balanced in the fray. The talks would start in a week at the old Ledra Palace Hotel, which had gotten locked in the no-man's land between the Greek and Turkish sectors of the island, where the armed dividing line ran through the center of the capital city of Nicosia, in 1974. This line had been softening for a few years and the movement from one sector to the other was becoming easier.

It had been particularly hard for Gavin Collins to develop his career in the UN Secretariat, as he was known to be actively gay. It was all discreetly handled, but it still was a worry to his superiors and as much a question of what might upset the balance of his objectivity as having holdings in international corporations would be in any international economic negotiations he might be involved in as a moderator. It was just an added issue in his suitability to rise in the Secretariat. In this case, his situation was exacerbated because an up-and-comer Brazilian, Eduardo Alvarez, had been assigned as assistant moderator and already was here and on the job in Nicosia. Gavin had never before seen the younger Eduardo as competition, but it lately had dawned on him that he should be seeing him as competition.

It didn't mean, by any means, that Gavin was remaining celibate to counter worries about his sexual preferences and practices, however. Just his arrival at the Larnaka airport and the drive west to the Four Seasons resort had been enough to whet his sexual appetite, as all of the Greek men he observed and encountered were alluring hunks. He'd only come from Geneva, but it was snowing in Geneva, and all the men were bundled up and had been for several months. Cyprus was a land of sun, sea, and Speedos. He had checked out the weather on the island and knew that, even though it was only late March, he could swim in the sea and lay out in the sun. But he also could ogle and be ogled—he was sure he was objective in believing he was presentable enough to be ogled—and he had dreams of hooking up with a Greek hunk.

And, speaking of Greek hunks, one rose up—literally, from the Mediterranean Sea in front of him—early that afternoon as he was stretched out on a beach lounge bed, in a Speedo and an unbuttoned and flared cotton shirt and was going through background papers for the coming Cypriot negotiations.

The man was relatively young, at least ten years younger than Gavin's thirty-eight, with a man's muscular body, but he was in splendid shape. He was olive skinned, enhanced probably by being tanned by the Mediterranean sun, had black curly hair—not just on his head, but also swirling around a bit on his pecs and flat stomach and on his forearms and thighs—long, curly lashes, without appearing the least bit effeminate; pale blue eyes; and a glorious smile. He was beautiful, but he also was rugged-jawed all man.

As he emerged from the sea in a skimpy black, shiny Speedo, he leaned down, scooped up a beach towel, leather sandals, a couple of magazines, and a pair of sunglasses from the sand, and walked, in confident strides, but like a male model on the catwalk, toward where Gavin was stretched out on his lounge bed.

Gavin's eyes went from the man's face to his magnificent torso to his basket, and he sighed. Then he almost hyperventilated when the man picked out the lounge bed next to his to lie on. There were more empty ones than occupied ones fanned out where the grass met the sand across the hotel's seafront, but the man picked the one next to Gavin's to stretch out on.

When he was settled on it, on his back, the back of the lounge bed raised, he put his sunglasses on, turned his head to Gavin and smiled, and then lit up a cigarette from a pack, matchbox nestled between cellophane and pack, blew a couple of puffs with a sigh of satisfaction, and opened one of the magazines.

The magazine was a gay male skin magazine, and the man made no attempt to hide that fact.

Was he putting a make on Gavin, the UN diplomat wondered. If so, it was working. Gavin, always discreet when he could be, ran the risk factors over in his mind. He couldn't discern a single problem. He wasn't expected in Nicosia until tomorrow. No one had met him at the plane; his itinerary indicated he was arriving tomorrow. And he hadn't prebooked the hotel. He'd checked the beach resorts out earlier and had come here by rental car from the airport, taking his chances a room would be available, and one was. They'd taken and copied his passport, but that wasn't something that was going to be reported to the UN High Commission office in Nicosia.

He had a free day on a Greek island—or an island that was half Greek, and he'd heard good things about the Turkish men on the Turkish side of the island as well. He had plans to go over there for a discreet hookup or two, just as he'd had in the back of his mind the possibility of a hookup on this side—today. Well, not in the back of his mind—in the front of his mind. He wouldn't have taken the trouble to establish a free, out-of-sight, day on the Greek Cypriot coast if he hadn't planned on spending part of that day being laid by a Greek Cypriot.

"Is that a good magazine?" he asked, deciding there was no time like the moment to check out possibilities.

"A very good magazine, yes," the man said. His English was good, albeit accented. "I needed to check out something," he added.

"Checking out if you're in there?" Gavin asked in a playful tone. "Because you could be," he added.

"Nice of you to say so, but did you see what kind of magazine this is? Maybe you would not mean what you say if you knew what was in this magazine."

"Yes, I saw what kind of magazine it is," Gavin said. "I got the impression you wanted me to see it and wanted to know something about me."

The man shrugged and smiled, lifting his sunglasses so that Gavin could see the sparkle in his eyes.

"I will agree to that point. My name is Niko," he said. "Niko Constandinos. I am Greek, from Athens." He looked at Gavin expectantly.

"I'm Craig Smith. Canadian," Gavin answered. Of course he wasn't going to give his real name. He was happy to say he was Canadian, though. That was neutral enough and didn't have the problem of whether or not the other man liked Americans or Brits. Canadian also, for some reason, helped in establishing preferred position. It was taken as a good possibility of a submissive; just as saying you were Australian left the impression you'd be a dominating top.

"Are you here in Cyprus for business or pleasure—or do you live here?" Niko asked and then immediately filled in those blanks on himself. "I'm down from Athens for both business and pleasure. I am here alone."

"Me as well," Gavin answered. "Business . . . and pleasure . . . and alone. It's my first time on island. You too?"

"Oh, no. I have been here many, many times. I think I could be a guide for the island—and for some of its forbidden pleasures."

"You think so? I've heard that there's a lot to see and experience. I was hoping to see some castles. I understand there are some crusader castles here and fortresses of earlier and later periods. It's sort of an interest of mine, since I traveled in China and Japan and found that castles there had similar designs to Western castles without the two cultures having met before—an important difference being that Western castles are designed from the outside in, while Japanese castles are set on the edge of a cliff and designed from the entry back to the cliff drop . . . but, sorry, I've rambled on."

While he'd rambled on, though, he'd noticed that Niko had been running his fingers down his body and hadn't neglected brushing them across his crotch. The bulge there had become noticeably bulgier.

"I can't help but notice that you are a very handsome and well-built man," Niko said. "I love to hear your enthusiasm for places like castles. There is one near here—Kolossi Castle—which is very unusual. It's just a thick square tower really. But it has history. When Richard the Lionhearted's betrothed woman was shipwrecked here and captured and imprisoned, it is said by many that it was in Kolossi Castle, and the Knights of Templar occupied the castle at one time. They made wine and also served as the bank for the island's nobles. I would love to be your guide there—perhaps this afternoon? Now, maybe?"

"I don't usually think of Richard the Lionhearted as being married," Gavin said, "but I guess he was."

"Ah, you think of him as being with men."

"Yes, I do," Gavin answered.

"And this being with men—"

"Yes, I do," Gavin said, and smiled. "As I said, I got the impression that you were checking something by letting me see that magazine."

"Yes, I was. And you are telling me that I was right to assume?"

"Yes, you were right. And, in case you wonder, I am a submissive. Men cover me. I think that you might be—"

"Yes, I am. I, as you say, cover, men. It is a good fit, no? You say you are here for pleasure as well as business. I specialize in pleasure."

"Yes, pleasure is important to me—both getting it and giving it."

"I don't have a lot of time to meet with a man during this trip to Cyprus," Niko said, looking at Gavin expectantly. "I am a straightforward man. I offer myself to another man and move on if the offer isn't completely accepted."

"I too can be straightforward and am available only for the day. Do you want to fuck me?"

"Yes." He looked a bit surprised at the bald question, but he responded immediately. "So, would you like to see Kolossi Castle and perhaps a club or two before we return to the hotel and I fuck you? You are staying here, at the Four Seasons, are you not?"

"Yes, I am staying here." he didn't ask if Niko was staying here as well, or establish with him what Niko's business was in coming to Cyprus. In the latter case, he didn't want to reveal what his own business here was.

They found themselves alone at the top of Kolossi Castle, and Gavin was over standing by a crenellated wall and looking at a slit opening in a punched-out section.

"Is this like the Blarney Stone?" he asked, bending over and looking down through the slit. "Do I kiss something here?"

"Look down. What do you see?" Niko asked.

"The drawbridge. We're over the entrance to the keep."

"Yes. That opening is for pouring boiling tar or whatever you have on hand on the heads of anyone trying to force the front gate. But if you want it to be for kissing . . ." He pulled Gavin up and turned him and took his mouth in a long, dueling-tongues kiss.

"I want to fuck you now," he murmured when they'd come up for air. "I want to drive you somewhere private and fuck you in my automobile. I don't want to wait for tonight."

And that's what he did. They got back in his car and he drove toward the sea from the castle on a sandy road, pulling off behind a sand dune in a small stand of trees. They sucked each other hard in the front seat, one leaning over to the lap of the other, and then they moved to the backseat and Niko sat in the middle of the seat, gripping a now-naked Gavin's waist between his hands, while, facing him, Gavin straddled the Greek's lap and rose and fell on his cock until both had ejaculated.

Niko took Gavin to a series of gay clubs in Limassol, where they danced and drank beer, and then to an outdoor restaurant on the waterfront. They had arrived more than an hour before the usual 10:00 p.m. opening for dinner in Cypriot restaurants, but they were served anyway, dining on a meze—a progression of small dishes of Greek food—and drinking Palomino wine.

"We're the only ones dining in this restaurant," Gavin observed.

"It's a popular restaurant. It just hasn't really opened for supper yet," Niko answered. And then to forestall the next question, he added. "It won't open for two more hours, but this is a tourist area so they are always ready to serve those who don't know the Cypriot way. It's a pleasure to eat in a Greek restaurant with others—everyone becomes friends. But you say you must leave tomorrow, and we both have said we are here for pleasure. In two hours I want to be in your bed in the hotel with you, with both of us taking our pleasure. Is that not what you want?"

"Yes, that's what I want," Gavin answered.

And that's what transpired. Both of them naked, and having worshipped each other's bodies, Niko was sitting on the side of the bed again, as he had done in the backseat of the car, and Gavin was saddled in his lap, facing him, legs bent, fists locked behind Niko's neck, and feet leveraging off the mattress as he rose and fell on Niko's cock. Before either came, Niko took over the fucking, pressing Gavin to arch back, head on the floor, arms extended in a cruciform position, ankles on Niko's shoulders, as the Greek pulled the Canadian on and off the cock to a mutual ejaculation. Afterward they lay, stretched out against each other and entwined in each other's arms and legs embrace, moving and writhing against each other, as Niko entered and pumped Gavin from the front, from the back, and from the sides, each coming again and again and again.

In the morning, when Gavin woke, Niko was gone. It struck the diplomat that, other than a name, which no doubt was as false as the one he'd given the Greek—if, indeed, the man had been Greek—Gavin knew nothing about Niko. Most important, he didn't know how to get in touch with Niko to continue their glorious fuck.

By the time he was in the Mercedes he'd rented and was driving north toward Nicosia, though, he had decided that that was just as it should be. It was exactly the hookup he'd been looking forward to having the previous day—one of complete anonymity and compartmented duration. There surely would be other opportunities like that while he was in Cyprus. Friends of his had told him he didn't even need to seek them out in Cyprus. As long as he looked as fit as he did, they said, the hookups would come to him.

* * * *

Gavin was booked in one of the newer Nicosia hotels, the Park Hilton, but the offices assigned to the UN administrators of the Cyprus reunification talks were in the old, once-luxurious, British colonial hotel, the Ledra Palace. The grand old hotel was locked in the Green Zone between the Greek and Turkish sectors at the major checkpoint for those who could go between the zones, primarily diplomats, but increasingly tourists and even Greeks and Turks as the relationship between the two sides improved. Its position in the neutral zone was a factor that had permitted the reunification talks to resume—it was where all meetings between the two ethnic groups had occurred since the 1974 Turkish invasion of the island.

Besides Gavin, the UN delegation included Eduardo Alvarez, his second, a couple of secretaries, three bodyguards, and an equipment technician. Appreciable setup work and coordination with the Greek and Turkish delegations had had to be done, but Eduardo and the staff had come two weeks ahead of the talks and Eduardo was so efficient that nearly all of the preparation work was done before Gavin arrived. Gavin felt like a fifth wheel, but he did what he could to pose as the senior official and chief moderator. That still left him with considerable time to spend at the Park Hilton swimming pool, gathering a tan and trying to be good. It wouldn't do for him to pursue Greek men while he was on public display in Nicosia.

Sensing that he was restless and knowing there wasn't much for him to do until the talks actually started on April 1st, Eduardo suggested, "Why don't you take a few days and go over to the Turkish side? The UN has a guesthouse by Five-Mile Beach to the west of Kyrenia, and I know you have an interest in castles. You could explore the seventh-century Byzantine one in Kyrenia Harbor and the castles built by the crusaders in the eleventh and twelfth centuries along the tops of the Kyrenia Mountains."

"That sounds like a good idea," Gavin said. Two days checking out Turkish men on the Turkish side of Cyprus, away from the prying eyes of his staff in Nicosia. What could go wrong?

And so he took a UN car, because his rented Mercedes couldn't go into the Turkish zone, crossed through the checkpoints in Nicosia, and drove the sixty miles north to Kyrenia and then the five miles west to the UN guesthouse at Five-Mile Beach, notable in Cyprus as having been the beachhead for the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974.

After being settled in the strong fence-enclosed UN guest house a few steps up a rocky hillside from the Mediterranean Sea and just west of Five-Mile Beach, Gavin drove to the picturesque harbor down of Kyrenia, or, as the Turks called it, Girni, to explore the harbor castle there that dominated the eastern end of the waterfront. He found the castle fascinating, as it had originally been built in the seventh century by the Byzantines and, in the sixteenth century, the Venetians enclosed it in a thick-walled fortress of later design. In the interim period it had been besieged and conquered by Richard the Lionhearted, whose crusaders built the mountaintop St. Hilarion Castle in the Kyrenia range dominating Kyrenia to the south and overlooking both the town and the mountain pass to the interior of the island and its capital, Nicosia.

It was while he was looking around in the castle, being nearly the only one doing so that afternoon, that Gavin saw the young man he later would call Erol. The first sighting was from the ramparts of the castle across the large training ground to the top of the fortress' seawall. The young Turkish Cypriot was only seen from a distance, but even at a remove Gavin was struck by the man's athletic build and his ability to scramble over the stone ruins. He was dark—in both complexion and hair coloring—and, even from here, Gavin could see that he had a ready and dazzling smile. He was strongly built without being noticeably tall. Gavin enjoyed watching the young man—he evidently was at least fifteen years younger than Gavin was—moving around. And Gavin wondered what he was doing in the castle alone. In his observation of Turkish men when he had visited the Turkish mainland, they liked to move in groups. He'd found that they liked to fuck in groups too, which he had enjoyed.

Without giving the young man much more thought—he was too far away for Gavin to do more than develop a sensation of hardening, which he did for quite a few young men—Gavin left the castle and stopped for lunch at the outdoor section of one of the many restaurants that had set tables out directly at the edge of the stone walkway between the buildings arcing around the inner harbor and the water, where an assortment of working and pleasure boats were tied up.