The Turning (page 3)
I could barely swallow, barely stand. My hands were shaking.
This can’t be what it looks like. It can’t be. It’s not possible. I do NOT have a date with a pro bodybuilder. It’s gotta be a joke, a prank. Maybe he just wants to meet to give me some workout tips.
That sounded so lame to myself that I actually laughed. But I went. Of course I went. I went convinced that I was wrong about what that little note implied.
I hadn’t packed any formal clothes, so I wore the nicest casual outfit I had – black slacks, tee shirt and a windbreaker. This was still the desert. Nights were cool.
The Cafe de la Luna was not even ten minutes from my hotel. No wonder the taxi driver gave me a dark look. I paid him an extra tip for the trouble.
It had to be a five star restaurant. The door greeter wore a white tuxedo. There were actual, living peacocks and macaws scampering and cawing around the small gardens to either side of the front door. The door was a Chinese moon door, perfectly circular, painted a rich scarlet. The inside was just as lavish, with crystal chandeliers and a live band playing a Spanish bolero. I was greeted by the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.
“Buenas noches, señor. Welcome to Cafe de la Luna.”
“Uh…I think I have a reservation.”
“Sí, and what is the name on the reservation, señor?”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Lobo has a table for two, I see. Follow me, please.”
She practically glided through the fairytale restaurant. Anton stood when I came in sight of the table. He had on a dinner jacket and pants that were probably real silk. “You got my note,” he said with a warm smile, and shook my hand.
He ordered us some water. The hostess lit the table’s candle and left. She never showed us a menu. I wondered what was for dinner. I wondered what would come after dinner.
“Look, Mr. Lobo-” I said.
“Anton, man. Nobody calls me that,” he said with a chuckle. I sighed.
“Anton, I don’t know what this is about. I mean…are you…are you…”
I couldn’t say it. Anton’s warm hand rested on mine.
“Don’t you know?” he asked quietly. His gorgeous eyes were holding mine again. He was so close I could smell the residual scent of the posing oil still lingering around his skin. I sucked in a shuddering gasp of air.
“I don’t even know you,” I whispered. “You don’t know my name. Why the hell would you want to…to have dinner with me?”
“What is your name?”
“Eric,” I said. “Eric Fina.”
“I wanted to have dinner with you because I think you deserve it.”
“Huh? Why me?”
Anton’s fingers caressed my pendant.
“What’s so special about this?” I asked, pulling it out of his grasp.
“You like wolves, huh?”
“Yeah, why’s that important?”
Anton had this way of capturing my attention. Every time his eyes met mine, pupil to pupil, I felt strange. Frightened, exhilarated, ready to run. I felt like prey. The hairs on my neck stood up.
“How much do you love them?”
There was something in the way he said it that made it sound like the most important question I would ever have to answer in my life. I couldn’t help but tell the truth.
“They’re not animals to me,” I admitted. “I have pictures of them all over my walls at home. I’ve taken trips to Minnesota and Canada, camping trips, just to try and see them. They’re…they’re like family.” Anton nodded, his smile gentle.
“I was right about you,” he said.
Our food arrived. Steak, with a huge helping of black Mexican beans and yams mixed with spices.
“Gracias,” Anton said, his accent perfect.
“De nada. Bien provencho,” said the server, who left and never returned.
I took a bite of the steak and felt warm blood drip off my lips. It was rare.
“Relax,” Anton said with a grin. “The food here’s the best in Venice. You won’t get food poisoning from it.”
He tore into his steak, putting huge chunks into his mouth and chewing them with relish. I watched him devour half a pound in under ten minutes.
“Try the vegetables,” he suggested between mouthfuls. I did. They were spectacular. We ate in silence. He was so intent on his food that I felt like he’d snap at me if I tried to make conversation. I didn’t have to wait too long for him to finish. He wiped his face with the napkin.
“So,” I said, “are you from around here?”
“No, man. I’m from Los Angeles. Can’t you hear it in my voice?”
“I’m not from California,” I said. He nodded again.
“I’ve been here about five years. Gotta tell you, man. If you want to get serious about bodybuilding, this is the place to be. How long are you staying?”
“Another two days. I was going to do some sight seeing. I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon at Gold’s.”
“Gonna pump iron with the big boys, huh?”
“Thats’ the idea,” I said a bit sheepishly. Anton put a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Eric. You’ve really got a nice start to your physique. More than you give yourself credit for. C’mon, give me a flex.”
“Right here? Right now?”
“Yeah. Roll up your sleeve and show me that arm.” I felt stupid, but I did it. His fingers slid over my muscle. I shivered. They squeezed it firmly, and I smiled as I felt it barely give. I do have some nice, hard muscles, even if they aren’t big. He whistled in appreciation. His fingers glided across my skin, trailing the cut that divides the lower bicep from the rest of the arm.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. I stared at him. He nodded, eyes on my face, expression open and sincere.
“You’re beautiful, Eric.”
I blinked. Why were there tears in my eyes?
“Thanks,” I whispered, looking at my empty plate.Anton’s hand slid up my arm to my neck. It rested their gently. I slowly raised my eyes to his. He closed the gap between us.
I’d never been kissed before. Not even by my own mother. And this wasn’t that kind of kiss. It wasn’t dirty, or erotic, but it lingered. His lips brushed and pressed my own, warm and soft as peaches, slightly moist. There was a light fur on his upper lip and chin that tickled my skin. Heat flooded my body. I felt sweat bud on my forehead. My breathing grew shallow. He parted, his hand lightly on my cheek.
“Come with me, Eric Fina.”
It felt strange and formal, though he said it in a tender, soft voice, the kind that massages your ear. He stood and offered me his hand. In the candlelight, I could see tiny hairs glinting from his palm. I stood on an invisible precipice. This was a dream. It was all a dream. I would wake up in my hotel room in the morning with sheets soaked, and I would be alone.
But his hand, when I took it, was warm and strong. I could feel the little hairs of his palm against my own hairless one. His body pressed me gently through our clothes. I could feel his hard pecs and the ridges of his abs for a moment. He led me, hand in hand, through the back door to the parking lot. Anton drove a black convertible. The hood ornament was a running wolf, cast in silver.
“Hey,” I said with a smile, “guess you really like wolves too, huh?” I sounded like an idiot. Of course he liked wolves. He’d asked me about them. He’d posed to “Hungry Like the Wolf.”
“They’re like family,” he said in an echo of me. He said it the same way I had, softly. Reverently.
We got in the car. Anton didn’t turn on music, and we didn’t really talk. I never asked where he was taking me. My hand slid across the seat and found his. He held it, driving one-handed. We crested a shallow rise as the moon rose. A moonrise over the ocean is something everyone should see once in their lives. Especially a ripe full one like the one I saw.
His house was single story and had a shallow sloping roof. The whole thing was dark, stained redwood. Big bay windows reflected the rising moon. There was a motorcycle parked in the driveway when we pulled in.
“You live with someone?” I asked. Anton nodded with another secret smile.
“We’re not going to disturb them, are we?”
“Shhhh..” he whispered and leaned toward me.
This time the kiss was hard, almost hungry. My cock swelled as his tongue slid past my lips and began to do things in my mouth I didn’t know a tongue was capable of. My body shook. Flames licked at my nerves. I moaned. He chuckled and broke the kiss.
“No more questions, Eric,” he said. We made it to the front porch before I couldn’t hold back any longer. I yanked him against me and this time I didn’t hold back. He opened eagerly for me. Our lips formed a wet seal for our tongues to play. I let my hands roam over his body, so hard and curved and strong. No amount of nice clothes could disguise that.
“Eric,” he purred softly in my ear, “will you accept us this night? Will you take our gift?”
I broke off suckling his neck to glance at him. The moon was doing weird things to his eyes. They looked copper, actually reflecting the moonlight. They were a god’s eyes.
Anton smiled his dark secret smile. “Guess who else is here waiting for you.”
“Morgan,” I gasped. Anton nodded, “He’s been here since moonrise. Let’s not keep him waiting, eh?”