by Young
I chirped, “What can be gained from this expansive and difficult ‘love’ endeavor?”
Dr. Andrew finalized, “Most important, I believe that if I can identify the brain systems associated with this potent and universal human sensation of ‘romantic love,’ I might be able to pioneer methods to help rejected men and women overcome their depression and avoid violent behaviours while enabling people to make more vibrant, stable, happy partnerships.”
“Is Zac assisting you in this research, sir?” I asked.
The doctor smiled and nodded before dismissing the class.
As I was packing my belongings, the Norwegian came over. “Do you need help with this thing called ‘love’?” he teased.
“I can manage very well with this thing called ‘love.’”
He watched while I gathered my belongings. Since I was the last to leave, he remarked, “Young, you take care of your body and spread a positive and healing energy to those around you. Pink auras are rare, and so are the people who have them.”
I stared at him, not knowing what he was talking about. He added, “Love, sincerity, affection and generosity are perfect words to describe you. Your pink aura indicates that you’ve achieved a perfect balance between your spiritual and material existence. You love to love and be loved. You hate conflicts, and…”
Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. I had not expected this teaching assistant to make such a bold move, especially when he’d been so regimented throughout the lesson. Before he disappeared, his words were, “Don’t be late for our appointment.”
Chapter Nineteen
The Golden Boy
“Suddenly, I’ve got an overwhelming desire to surround myself with the aura of romantic love.”
Zac R. Christiansen
1968
“The Hanging Gardens of Babylon”
I arrived at “The Hanging Gardens of Babylon,” where Andy had explained the meaning of Love to me during the early stages of our courtship. Now, I was here again, waiting for another big brother, Zac R. Christiansen. The crumpled paper on my lap, read:
“Meet me after dinner this evening at the Hanging Gardens.”
The unsigned note did not give a meeting time. There was no sign of anyone at the Hanging Gardens except the sounds of rustling leaves from nearby trees. I sat at the bench where my Valet and I had conversed a year ago. As I gazed out into the expansive desertscape, I remembered my chaperone’s profound explanations of the meaning of love. Now, the golden hues of the setting sun stirred a melancholic sense of uncertainty within me. Although Andy had promised he would always love me, he was no longer my Valet – now he was Albert’s. Capricious tears welled in my eyes as I wondered what life had in store for me. I was facing something I had to jump over, or, if I didn’t hold the reins firmly, fall. A voice spoke from behind.
“I’m glad you came,” the teaching assistant declared.
“Why wouldn’t I? You asked me to meet you here.”
He sat next to me and said, “Why are you looking so forlorn?”
I kept silent. “Your aura is now a muddy brown. What happened to the pink boy I saw in the classroom?” he announced before pulling me towards him.
Since I had no idea what he was talking about. I remained silent.
“Young, tell me what’s bothering you. Can I help?” he inquired with genuine concern.
Not wanting to divulge my thoughts, I changed the topic. I inquired, “What are auras?”
Holding my hands in his palms he began, “You see, Young, all things that inhale oxygen to survive have auras. Auras are large magnetic energy fields that can be sensed, felt and seen around a physical body. Haven’t you been taught about this?” he questioned.
I shook my head. He stared at me before he resumed, “To put it simply, a person can tell when someone has anger or malevolent intentions. On the opposite spectrum, that person can also detect kindness or benevolent objectives. One doesn’t have to be psychic to feel or read an aura.”
I quipped, “How do you detect auras?”
He smiled. “My dear boy, an aura is approximately three feet from a person’s physical body. Sometimes we use them to describe a person. We say, ‘He has an aura about him,’ or ‘She just has a glow about her.’ You see, a person’s aura can provide insight into the spiritual, emotional and physical self.”
“But you still haven’t explain how to detect auras,” I chirped.
“Hold on. I haven’t finish talking,” he motioned me to stand several feet away from him. He continued, “Now, focus on an outlining spot on my body. Do you see a white or transparent image around my person?”
“No,” I answered.
“I think it’s too dark for you to see anything here.” He added, “If you observe closely when we return indoors, you’ll most likely see my aura.”
I teased, “Is your aura malevolent or benevolent?”
“That, you’ll have to discern for yourself,” he said teasingly. “A few moments ago your aura was mucky brown. And you haven’t told me what’s bothering you,” he pressed.
An overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around Zac’s sinewy physique took over my person. I wept as I held onto him tightly. He kissed me on my lips. I did not resist, instead I leaned against his athletic musculature for support. His masculinity enveloped me like a cocoon as I shielded myself within the confines of his maleness. He lifted my head to his as our mouths melted in a passionate kiss. It felt like a transparent halo had engulfed us into a single entity. I was captive under his magical spell. Not wishing to release our embrace, I felt his shimmering aura. He was protecting me, dissipating the sadness that had taken over my person.
When we finally withdrew, I murmured, “I felt the presence of your enchanting aura.”
“What did you experience?” he whispered.
I gave him a coquettish grin before divulging, “You, Mr. Christiansen, have a golden glow surrounding your person.” For some ambiguous reason, I continued, “You love to adorn your surroundings with exquisite beauty, and you appreciate the finer things in life. You also love to be the center of attention and be in the company of many – like a sparkling gem in a stunning crown.”
“Ah, you saw through me, you little devil!” he chimed jestingly.
I added, “I haven’t finished, Mr. Big Brother. You love to attract attention, affection and admiration from many. I also detect that you are not just a taker but a giver of your time, energy and love to those who will accept your offer.”
Aura Colours
He listened attentively as if drunk on my every word. Yet, he did not respond. He held me close. His charisma had charmed me as our hardness pressed against pulsating loins.
“You are a proud man, fiercely independent and extremely reluctant to ask for help from anyone,” I remarked.
The Norwegian burst out in laughter, acknowledging my accurate assessment with candor. He urged me to continue as if he couldn’t get sufficient accolades. When I finally finished, he remarked, “You, dear boy, being a sensitive artist, would know that life is full of colour. Like many other things on your path, colours have meaning.” He paused before resuming, “Colours are representations of messages from your higher self, some refer to it as their ‘God’ self.
“One doesn’t have to be a Metaphysician to understand the importance of colour in one’s life. It exists in our daily experiences.” He took this opportunity to return my evaluation.
He began again, “I was wildly attracted to your pink aura during class. Your pinkish glow drew me to you magnetically. You, sexy lad, are a loving and giving person. On top of these traits you love to be loved. You have a high regard for your health. You look after your body with a good diet, nutrition and exercise. Am I incorrect?” He did not wait for my reply before resuming, “You’re also a true romantic. Once you’ve found your soul mate, you’ll stay faithful, loving and loyal to him for life.”
I injected, “How do you know so much about auras?”
He did not answer but continued blabbing, “Pink Aura individuals are natural healers. They are highly sensitive to the needs of others and have strong psychic abilities. They also possess innovative ideas and have highly creative imaginations. Because of these personality traits, the Pink Aura person almost always makes a great writer, artist or designer.
“This particular individual (he pressed the tip of his finger to my nose) hates injustice, poverty and conflicts. He will strive to make the world a better place and will make personal sacrifices in the pursuit of this ideal.”
I interrupted before he could comment further, “Where did you locate this information about auras? Did you make this up?”
The BB grinned cheekily, “I have this special talent that not many possess.”
“Do you go around observing peoples’ auras?” I questioned inquisitively.
His grin widened. “Do you want to know more about your pink aura?” he razzed.
I looked at him, puzzled, not knowing what to make of this man. He resumed, “Pink Aura people are strong willed and highly disciplined. They expect high standards from others. They also hold strong values – seldom do they deviate from them. Because of their honesty and likable nature, they are valued by their friends and peers.”
“You nailed it! That’s exactly who I am,” I exclaimed.
Loving Zac
He gave a hearty laugh before kissing me fervently. He acted as if he were afraid that I would reject him – I was already hypnotized by his charm. Melting into his embrace, I was ready for him to possess all of me. Like a bloom waiting to be pollinated by a honey bee, this big brother had lured me into his gossamer entanglement with his intellectual and provocative charm. Without uttering a word, he held my hand and led me inside the grotto below the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Our transcendent connection had amalgamated our souls. No verbal exchange was needed; only the fusion of our physical selves would quench the urgent palpitations we now experienced below our waist.
He lay me on a sheepskin rug. He pried open my tender lips to receive his probing tongue, exploring the part of me that had been sacred to my Valet before this big brother had arrived to claim his prize. Fascinated by his irresistible attractiveness, I surrendered to his adulating magnetism. His nimble fingers tore open my shirt before reveling my yearning perkiness to his devouring mouth. I moaned ecstatically to his curling length as he teased and suckled at its frisky tips stirring my arching back to receive more of this wondrous sensation.
My luring fingers reached to unzip his trousers while I galvanized his throbbing hardness with my wiggling toes. His electrifying fervencies coursed through my person sending jets of vibrating currents across my arching back. I lubricated his pulsating length with my trickling wetness when he shoved all of himself into my receiving oral cavity. I reached to invigorate his stiffness within my stroking palm as we moaned and groaned in jubilant bewilderment.
Our sexual hunger had stripped us bare. He devoured my opening as much as I ached for his burning rod, yet he remained stoically sensual, prolonging our foreplay until my sweltering desires implored him to bury himself deep within my core. I desired him to own me as Andy had before Albert manifested into our midst. I was certain if I allowed this big brother into my soul, he would return my love. After all, he was a giver of time, energy and love to those that would generously accept his offer. He was a “golden boy.”
The power of lust combined with the newness of our acquaintance had intoxicated us. We were infatuated, eager to explore the drunkenness of our fiery intimacy. We were held within the confines of these sensually erotic caverns.
His loving gallantry eased unhindered into my being, unbolting the doorway into the paradise where only lovers have the audacity to cross. His loving affection rocked me back and forth as our French kisses stifled our euphoric cries. Our coition ignited an unyielding resolution to prolong our heated passion. Holding firmly onto his strapping shoulders I rode with abandonment. My virility stiffened with each penetrating stroke. I bounced on his provocateur, arousing his enthusiasm to heights of ecstatic urgency.
Being proficient tantric practitioners, we simultaneously catapulted ourselves to the point of no return, only to revert our rapturous virtuosity back to whence we began. Thus protracting our amatory stimulations to indescribable jubilations, I had thus far never experienced.
Our auras had merged into a cocoon of iridescent red. Fluttering like glow worms, we shimmered in unison within the underground chamber, illuminating our pathway to our eminent sexual nirvana. No longer capable of withholding our pleasurable excitement, I spewed my abundance onto my lover’s muscular chest, face and hair. His release bonded our eroticism as if our union was blessed by the heavenly chorus from the moment we met in “The Anatomy of Romantic Love.”
Chapter Twenty
Falling In Love Again
“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.“
E. M. Forster
2012
Andy’s Email
I acted foolishly in 1968 while waiting to be summoned to Sheik Fahrib’s Household. The doctor certainly took his time to prepare our arrival at لصقر في دن (The Falcon’s Den), his townhouse in Amsterdam.
I’m sorry I neglected you during our time at the Bahriji. Too preoccupied with Albert, I had underestimated the nature of our relationship. I was under the impression that Albert was sufficiently mature to conduct a triplet relationship. Regrettably, his emotional puerility created a rift between you and me. On the surface, he acted as if he accepted and loved you as he did me, yet when I was alone with him, his insecurities emerged. He discouraged me from spending time with you. I thought he would come round to accepting you, as I had Oscar. Unfortunately, my sanguine presumptions did not turn out as planned.
As much as I adored Albert, I missed our soul-level connection. This was something I did not share with him. I loved him very much, but it wasn’t the unspoken, nearly telepathic understanding you and I had for each other. No spoken or written words are enough for the way we felt for each other.
You probably think that I’m a sentimental fool, reminiscing about the wonderful moments we shared during our E.R.O.S. years. ☺
1968
A Rollicking Interlude
Although Wilhem was officially my Valet and guardian, I often couldn’t find him. If he wasn’t working out at the gymnasium, he would be playing soccer, basketball, tennis or a number of other sports within the Oasis’ facilities.
I, on the other hand, had resumed my fencing lessons with Professor Richard Lichman. Since BB Zac Christiansen was also an avid fencer, he attended classes with me. Professor Lichman was indeed glad to see me and Zac. At one of his classes, one other couple, a South American Junior named Isaac and his BB Jamie, attended. Together with our fencing instructor, we took turns dueling. This invigorating session bonded our friendship. Although the four of us had known one another in passing, most Bahriji students tended to stick to their own close-knit groups, since we were stationed there for such short periods. Still, many of us did forge new friendships through our various extracurricular and sporting activities.
At that particular session, our invigorating combat not only elevated our energetic exuberance, but also acted as an aphrodisiac. Boys being boys, during communal showers, we monkeyed around. Our privates stiffened as we frolicked wantonly within the confines of the washroom. Jamie and Dr. Lichman were not shy in making known their erotic desires; they began stroking each other. This lively display of unbridled openness served to arouse the rest of us to thrilling voyeuristic enthusiasm. Before long, we had fused into an entangled amatory agglomeration. The steamy sprinkles cascading above us were like glue for our fiery passions. Making no shows of modesty, we flaunted our throbbing concupiscence. Our liberated sensual and sexual studies dissipated the chastity ingrained by religious zealots and replaced it with the purity that it was meant to conceal – the naturalness that had once
belonged within the untarnished ‘Garden of Eden’. Our enlightened education had freed us from nefarious guilt, showing us that orgiastic liaisons were not only erotically pleasurable, but also a tactile facet of affection. As taught by prophets of yore and Grand Masters to come, our emotional bond had steered us to an interracial connectedness, affixed by that single universal truth: LOVE knows no colour or race. Our philandery had unconsciously freed us from the immoral bonds imposed by puritans who deemed such behavior an abomination.
Legendary gods, goddesses, mythical immortals, kings and emperors were known for their bacchanalian revelries, and in truth, love-ins had existed since the creation of the Man. But power-hungry elders, seeking to control those they ought to have served, deemed these gratifying recreational pastimes inappropriate. Enslaving and brainwashing their denizens with fear, these eurythmic avocations were determined satanic immorality. As is often the case, these conservatives were the first to commit treachery in the face of self-proclaimed righteousness.
Our nourishing pedagogy had freed us from any erotic constraints. I was simply ecstatic to partake in a spontaneous and uninhibited Dionysian revelry. We were exemplary specimens of the ‘Love that dares not speak its name.’ Our fervid copulation at the showers was a consummate testimony to the Enlightened Royal Oracle Society, for not only was our diverse sexuality revered within the confines of E.R.O.S. and the Bahriji; unbeknownst to me at the time, we were harbingers of a new generation that would liberate homosexuals, bisexuals, and the transgender community from the conventional clutches of the heterosexual world through the infamous 1969 Stonewall and other riots in the western hemisphere.
Back in February 1968, I was oblivious to the radical transformation happening in the larger world. I was happily concealed within a nurturing environment that only a handful had the privilege to experience.