Indisposed

The young man who served him lunch at the harborside café said that his name was Sami. He was lithe and moved like a dancer. He was all smiles and youthful beauty and curly black hair and great body and eagerness to please and touched anyone he was engaging in conversation with animated hands—and obviously was available. Sami couldn't be away from the restaurant very long, so instead of driving him all the way back to the UN guest house, Gavin checked into the Dome Hotel at the western end of the inner harbor, having no difficulty booking only for two hours that afternoon. As Sami lay on his back on the bed, Gavin rode his cock, slowly moving around to all aspects of the compass that was Sami's hard body to feel the young man's cock kissing all angles of his channel walls. Gavin was delighted to find that Sami's cock was the most formidable aspect of his body, being long and thin and ever erect. The young man just lay there, nervous and in awe in the initial fuck with the older, but movie-star handsome, Western man. Gavin had the sense that there would be more fire in him with added familiarity. For the first time, though, Sami gave his cock over to Gavin's complete use.

After a brief rest, there was a second fucking. As anticipated, Sami now was more sure of himself, bending Gavin over the bed and fucking him from the rear, egged on to increased physicality when Gavin gasped and begged for more when Sami slapped him on the bare buttocks and cruelly twisted an arm high up onto his shoulder blades while he pounded him with vigor.

"What time do you stop working at the restaurant and do you wish to earn more money?" Gavin asked, as they dressed.

"It's my uncle's restaurant. That means I won't be off until near midnight tonight. I'm sorry, I would have liked to—"

"I will come for you at the restaurant shortly after midnight. Don't plan on sleeping in your bed tonight."

When they returned to the restaurant, Gavin almost regretted having made the assignation with Sami, because the other man was there, at a table of the adjacent restaurant, drinking beer and looking around. He watched Gavin intently as Gavin and Sami approached, and he made no effort to hide that he was giving Gavin assessing stares. For his part, Gavin could hardly take his eyes off the young man. He was sultry and sensuous while having a commanding, cocky, and self-confident air about him. He was far more alluring close up than he had been from across the inner-wall ramparts of the harbor castle. He was dark and impossibly handsome and sexy, and, as was obvious by his forearms and the deep-cut V of his muscle T-shirt, hirsute.

His look at Gavin was one of already being inside Gavin and cruelly using him, and it was all Gavin could do not to hyperventilate.

But Gavin had already made a hookup for the night with Sami. Perhaps this man would still be in evidence the next day and would be available. Gavin loved Turkish men. They were universally well equipped and fun loving. And most of them were forceful, dominating, and a bit brutish. There was nothing in that combination that Gavin didn't like. Sami had not been completely what Gavin melted too, but he was young and virile and showed every sign of being able to hold an erection through the night. Gavin hoped that that was enough to build on.

And then maybe this other man—or a man like him, there being so many possibilities among Turkish men—for the next day, or the day after that.

* * * *

Gavin woke up on his bed in the UN guest house, lying between Cemal and Tamer, each with an arm over his chest and turned to Gavin, each eying the Canadian diplomat like it had been he who awakened the three of them with his snoring. Sami was standing by the bedroom door, pulling his jeans on.

"I'll see what there is for breakfast," Sami said. "I could use some help."

Cemal and Tamer went up on their elbows and looked at each other across Gavin's bare chest. Tamer said something in Turkish that sounded like he was making a forceful point. He was the bigger of the two young Turks, and Cemal sighed, rolled over to the side of the bed, sat up, and reached down to retrieve his briefs. Gavin watched him stand, pull them on, and pad out of the bedroom. As Cemal hit the door, though, Gavin's line of sight was obstructed by the beefy and muscle-bound Tamer, who rolled over on top of him, forcing his knees between Gavin's thighs. Gavin groaned and Tamer grunted as he hovered over Gavin. Gavin arched his back as the Turk's hard cock split his ass cheeks and moved up into his channel. Tamer reached up, grabbed Gavin's wrists, and held the Canadian's arms over Gavin's head. He looked down into Gavin's face with a half smile and half sneer, as he started the rhythm of the fuck.

When Gavin had gone back to the Kyrenia harborside restaurant at midnight the previous night, he'd found that Sami's friends had shown up and wanted Sami to go carousing with them on their motorcycles. Gavin hadn't formed any alternative plan, though, and hadn't taken into account how loose young Turkish Cypriot men could be in their entertainment plans.

He had money in abundance, and they were given the choice of spending money or receiving money for essentially the same result in entertainment. They followed him back to the UN guest house on their motorbikes, being duly impressed at being admitted to a compound that all of the locals knew about but none but the gardeners and caretakers got to get into. There they triangulated on Gavin and each other through the night.

And all had a good time.

Sami was doing turns in the kitchen of his uncle's restaurant in Kyrenia harbor, so breakfast was good—and so plentiful that Gavin would have to go to the market again sometime that day or eat the rest of his meals out during this vacation on the Turkish side of the island.

After breakfast, all four of them went to the shower for a suck and fuck session, with Gavin doing most of the sucking and receiving most of the fucking under the cascading water of the shower. Now clean, the three chattering and laughing Turks took off in a cloud of dust, smoke, and rumbling motorbike engines, leaving Gavin sitting on the floor of the shower, moaning and smiling.

That didn't stop him from going out on a castle hunt, this time driving up into the Kyrenia range at the pass between Kyrenia and Nicosia, parking in what had once been a jousting field, and then climbing up by foot to the entrance in the Crusader-period St. Hilarion Castle. From there he climbed again in a purposefully twisting stone passage, up, up, and up into the fastness of the castle ruins.

It was here that he got a fleeting glimpse once more of the dark, sultry young Turk he'd seen on the Kyrenia Castle walls and then later in the harborside restaurant area. Seeing each other at some difference with a chasm of ruins between each other, they both stopped, stared, and smiled. The young Turk saluted Gavin and then disappeared behind a stone wall. Gavin worked his way in that direction, but by the time he got there, the young man had vanished.

Despite the workout Gavin had gotten the previous night and that morning, he felt himself go hard and fresh desire build inside him. He continued to look around the castle for another hour, figuring out in his mind how the plan of the structure had originally meant to function, and he almost convinced himself that he was exploring the castle and not trying to find the young man . . . almost.

He had lunch at the Kyrenia harbor, half expecting to see the young Turk there, but he didn't. Keyed up, slightly disappointed, and more than slightly tired, he drove back to the UN guest house and fell into the local custom of taking an early afternoon nap.

* * * *

The young Turk's name was Erol—or at least that's the name he gave to Gavin after the first time he fucked the Canadian diplomat.

After resting, Gavin went to the beach at Five-Mile Beach, which was close to the UN guest house and ran in a horseshoe shape around a cove of the Mediterranean where the water was shallow and the bottom was sandy. He had been lying on his back on a beach towel on the sand after having taken a dip and swim in the sea and was dozing and half listening to the cavorting of a group of young Turkish men, who were playing a form of beach soccer not far from him. He'd spent considerable time ogling the young men as their ranks gathered for the game and was pleasantly aroused and hard as he lay there dreaming about them.

The soccer ball rolled up against his side. He opened his eyes to see the elusive sultry Turkish man—his elusive Turkish man—looking down at him, with the soccer ball in his hands and a smile on his face. They looked at each other for the longest couple of seconds, conveying all that needed to transpire between them—they found each other attractive and arousing, they were sexually interested in each other, the Turk was a power top and Gavin was a submissive bottom, and that they would fuck.

The young Turk—Erol—took the ball then and returned to the game. But after establishing that he was in command and that Gavin, who followed his every movement with his eyes, was at his beck and call, Erol left the game, with many smiles and hand waving, and returned to Gavin's side. He extended an arm to motion that Gavin should stand and follow him, which Gavin did. They walked down the beach and into the sea and out to where they could stand with the water coming up only to their nipples. They were a good way off of the beach. Erol reached down and tugged on Gavin's Speedo. Gavin got the hint and pulled his Speedo off. Erol had done the same with his.

"Hang it on your arm so that it doesn't float away," the Turk said. "Like I'm doing."

"You speak English," Gavin said, as he pushed his forearm through the Speedo and let it hang on his arm. The two were close to each other, facing each other. He gave a little jerk and groan as the Turk grasped their cocks together—both of them already in erection—and frotted them.

"Naturally. My name is Erol."

"I'm Gavin."

"Climb my hips with your knees, Gavin, and be open for me when I enter you. I am going to fuck you."

Gavin hooked his legs on Erol's hips and locked his fists behind Erol's neck. Erol grasped Gavin's waist between his hands and lifted Gavin's body in the water. Gavin cried out and began to pant as his body was pulled down on the cock. And then up and down, up and down, As Erol fucked him to a mutual ejaculation.

Gavin took Erol back to the UN guest house, and Erol fucked him for two days. On the third day, Gavin's last before he had to get back to Nicosia to check up on whether Eduardo and his staff had made the talks ready for Gavin to conduct, Gavin woke up alone in the bed. Erol was gone. Gavin hadn't told him he had to return to the Greek side that day. The best he could do was pin a note to the outside gate to the UN guest house compound. He couldn't give a Turk who didn't work there free access to the compound.

As he drove the eighty miles back to Nicosia he realized that all he had was a name—and that might not be a real one. He had given Erol his real first name, but he hadn't given him his last name or told him where he came from or why he was able to use the UN guest house on the Turkish side. He was lost to Erol sexually. He would just have to try to find him again the next time he came over to the Turkish side.

* * * *

"I think it would set the right tone if you entered the Treaty Room last," Eduardo said on the morning of April 1st as the delegations were gathering for the start of yet another attempt at Cyprus reunification talks. The Treaty Room, once the VIP parlor for the Ledra Palace Hotel, containing an imposing Tudor-style stone fireplace with the coat of Richard the Lionhearted on it, had been the venue for all talks on Greek and Turkish Cypriot differences through history. Indeed, it was where the British had drawn the Green Line that separated the Greek and Turkish sectors of the island, called that because a green grease pencil had been used to draw the line on the map. It had also been the venue of several border demarcation negotiations in the greater Middle East world. "Let me get the delegations in and settled at the table first."

Gavin tersely nodded. He'd left so much of the work to Eduardo, who seemed to know what he was doing and who had established rapport with all sides—not just the separate Greek and Turkish Cypriot contingents but also the observers that Greece, Turkey, the Americans, and the British had sent.

Left alone in his office while Eduardo was getting the meeting set up, he noticed for the first time the red folder laying on the blotter in the center of his desk. He flipped the folder open and blanched. There were two sets of photos, one was of Niko Constandinos fucking him in his hotel room at the Four Seasons Hotel outside of Limassol the day he'd arrived on the island. The other set was of Erol fucking him at the UN guest house near Five-Mile Beach on the Turkish side. He slammed the folder shut in fear and shock.

"Mr. Alvarez says they are ready for you to make your entrance," one of the staff secretaries called to him from the corridor. Still disconcerted, he opened the center drawer and slipped the folder inside. He had no idea what it meant or what he could or should do about it.

Entering the Treaty Room, Gavin received his second and third shocks. There standing in the second row of the Greek delegation, in a suit, stood Niko Constandinos. Not being able to look the man in the eye, Gavin swiveled his face toward the Turkish delegation, only to spy Erol, in a suit, standing in the ranks of the Turkish delegation.

Gavin knew he was going to be sick. Rather than taking his position in the room, where Eduardo currently was standing, he muttered, "Excuse me, I'm sorry," and turned and fled the room. He stumbled to the nearby men's room and vomited in a toilet.

Eduardo entered the men's room. "Are you all right, Gavin?" he asked solicitously. "Are you ill?"

"No, no . . . I'll—"

"You look ghastly, sir. You are ill, aren't you? Here, I'll go call up the chauffeur and we'll get you back to your hotel right away. You rest. I'll manage somehow here without you until you feel better."

Eduardo wouldn't listen to all of Gavin's protestations that he'd be fine, and Gavin's response grew weaker and weaker as he realized that in some greater dimension he wouldn't be fine. Both delegations out there seemed to have thought they had compromised him in their favor. How could he possibly continue as moderator of these talks? Eduardo was being so masterful with this crisis and Gavin, after all, was a submissive. In no time he was in the UN staff car and being motored back to the Park Hilton Hotel.

As soon as he left, Eduardo went back to the Treaty Room. "I'm sorry, gentlemen and ladies, Mr. Collins is indisposed. We will proceed, however. I will do what I can to step in and manage without him. We will take a short break now and then get started."

He motioned to two men in the room, and the Greek who had given Gavin the name of Niko Constandinos but who, actually, was one of the Greek checkpoint guards here at the Ledra Palace border crossing, and the Turk who had given Gavin the name of Erol but who, actually worked in the kitchen here at the Ledra Palace joined Eduardo outside of the Treaty Room to receive their packets of money from him and to return to their respective jobs.

Eduardo paused for moment to settle himself and to wipe the self-satisfied smile off his face and replace it with one of concern, competence, and confidence. He then returned to the Treaty Room to take up the moderator's position that he had trained hard to be able to handle and to manage "somehow" without the man, Gavin Collins, who he had seen as competition to upper administrative posts in the UN Secretariat.