Into the Lion's Den

by Tionne Rogers

  'I want to go to bed, but perhaps some fun would be good to ease the tensions. If Guntram bites his lips once more or smiles at me, I'm going to jump on top of him in the middle of the living room! Those shy smiles of him are darn sexy! And his eyes are something incredible when he looks at you, caressingly and…´

  “Konrad, do you want to come upstairs?” Stefania repeated the question, sounding irked and kicking him out of his limbo of barely contained lust for the boy. 'Roger was an ugly toad compared to this boy. Fuck being friends! I need him in my bed!'

  “Do you have some red wine, Stefania?”

  “Yes, of course,” she answered taken aback by the strange question. “Your cousin Albert sent me four boxes from his vineyards.”

  'Bloody Albert! Again trying to get rid of his rubbish! I swear he does it on purpose!' He opened his door by himself and got out of the car while the chauffeur had been stoically standing for more than ten minutes at Stefania's side.

  Once inside the elevator to her penthouse, she caressed his cheek and he smiled as it was mandatory to answer her advances in some way. She opened her door, realising that Konrad was in one of his “sombre nights”, and decided to go for the wine and glasses, her stilettos resounding in the corridor. “Make yourself at home, dear.”

  'Home as go to bed or home as get the slippers and sit in the couch? Must be the second, she went for a bottle of that rats' poison.' Konrad walked with certainty to the modernly decorated living room, the one “with the pseudo Warhol portrait” as he used to call it. Some minutes later, she rejoined him with a bottle and two glasses. He took it and started to expertly removing the lid to the “Principessa di Battistini-1997- Mention Spéciale” bottle. 'Aunt Elisabetta should kill Albert for using her name for this. It proves that he's her favourite child,' he thought before serving it without tasting it 'no need to, it's well known crap for the snobs.'

  “Should we make a toast?” she asked seductively.

  “To your beauty and talent, Stefania,” he answered automatically, doing his best to drink it 'without making faces Konrad, it's unbecoming,' as Friederich used to tell him when there were Brussels sprouts on the menu, every fifteen days, like clockwork. He left his half emptied glass on top of the crystal table before grabbing Stefania again.

  “You didn't finish your glass.”

  “It needs to breath some more,” he mumbled as he kissed her shoulder carelessly tearing the spaghetti strap of her expensive designer's dress. 'With any luck, it will kill all your cockroaches'

  His hand went for her back zipper and in less than a second he had it down, pulling from it to get rid of the dress.

  “We are a naughty boy tonight, are we not?” she teased him partly pushing him away but he didn't move and inch or removed his hands from her. “You could wait till we reach the bedroom.”

  “Fine, go ahead.”

  'German noblemen are real pigs and this one is the greatest of them all!' she thought before going up the stairs with him in tandem. She had not even closed the door, when he jumped on her and finished to remove her dress, throwing it to the floor, almost stepping on a real Versace. Instead of admiring her La Perla lace underwear, he unhooked the hooks fast and started to fondle with her breasts as all contribution to the romantic part, without removing his clothes. She jerked his tailored jacket so he would understand—as if that were possible—that he also had to make the supreme effort to disrobe himself, without help, if he wanted to get something from her.

  'She's right, it's uncomfortable with shoes and clothes on,' he thought when he felt the strong pulls in his jacket. With quick and precise movements he removed the jacket, shirt, trousers and underwear before rejoining her on the bed, only wearing her thong and silk stockings. He placed his body on top of hers and kissed her on her neck before starting to suck one of her breasts.

  Stefania couldn't help to think 'what a waste, such body for such a boring man! That's all he can make, three minutes sucking, then he penetrates you, another five minutes and it's over. He snores or leaves. Better I start to moan so he finishes sooner.'

  “Turn around, Stefania,” Konrad asked her. 'If she starts to moan so soon, it means that she wants something big from me. She should earn it.'

  “Konrad, baby, you know I don't like it. It's painful,” she half pleaded.

  “Steffi, you know I like it a lot when you do it. You're incredible.”

  “But, this is not romantic.”

  “Please, darling. You would make me very happy,” he pleaded in a mocking way, determined to leave if she wasn't complying with his request.

  She sighed and he took it as her acceptance, turning her around, almost hitting her head against the headboard in his haste to place her on her fours, just to remember he had forgotten to put a condom on. 'The last I need is a bastard from her or catching a STD,' and he went to get one of his own stash because he would have never taken one from hers: 'oldest trick in whores' history; get pregnant from the rich man.'

  Only with a brief preparation, Konrad sodomized her without giving her time to get used to him. He mounted her at a fast pace, grabbing one of her breasts to stabilize her under his thrusts. When he reached his climax, he emptied within her with a groan in her ears, releasing his hold over her and lying spent by her side.

  One hour later, after slumbering holding her body—for appearances sake as he needed a second or even a third round to be completely relaxed when he returned home—Konrad decided that it was time to resume his activities with Stefania. The only good thing about her was that she was always willing to do what he wanted, although later the tab would become bigger. Once more, her faked moans convinced him that either she wanted something big or she was truly trying to make up from the latest date. 'Always take care of your customers, used to say my father.'

  Round number three was in the shower as it was already late and he wanted to be home before 3 a.m. as he planned to take Guntram to visit St. Peter's treasury museum. He climaxed again thinking that 'this should be sufficient till we reach Zurich. There I could visit Henriette or ask Charles for a drink. He's always willing to have some fun.' He showered and kissed her with a “you're truly amazing, Stefania.”

  He redressed himself quickly while she combed her dark raven hair. 'Time to clear the agenda, she's too dangerous to have around Guntram, What if she makes him nervous? He had already the jealous wife experience to have now the scorned mistress one.'

  “Stefania, dear, I've been thinking hard in what I should give you for your birthday.”

  “It's not due till December, darling,” she laughed

  “It's an important number. You don't turn forty every year,” he said jovially, expecting her more than probably explosion.

  “It's thirty-six, darling,” she corrected him acidly

  “Yes, I'm sorry. How dumb of me! Anyway, I was thinking to give you this flat for it. I would need some time to prepare the papers. Why don't you ask your landlord to contact my secretary, Monika and she will take care of all the details?”

  “That's most wonderful of you!” she cried excitedly. “I don't know what to say!”

  “You deserve it, Stefania. You have been a good friend for the past ten years. I want that you have some security in your life. This man was speaking about a new TV show for you, something much better than cable TV, something in the RAI, if I understood correctly.”

  “It's a fashion show on Saturdays at 2 p.m., but he needs more financing.”

  “How much?”

  “I would say around €700,000 for two years. It's a lot of money and the network is not sure about it.”

  “I will pay them for you. National TV could be your big break.”

  “Konrad, this is too much. We don't know if we can pay you back, we still don't have enough sponsors.”

  “As a tribute to your talent. Monika will also take care of it.”

  She jumped to his neck and kissed him. 'Well, the first real kiss I get from her. Fair enough for a farewell.' When she
was telling him how wonderful he was, he only said. “I'm afraid that we part ways tonight, Stefania. You have made me very happy.”

  “Why?” she shouted.

  “I have decided to settle down with someone. To have children even. I think the fairest thing to do is to let you go before I take more of your time,” he said very seriously.

  “When?” she started to weep. “Who? I gave you the best years of my life! I loved you! And you leave me like this?”

  'You got a generous lay off, don't complain woman.' “Stefania, I'm almost forty-six years old. It's time to settle down and be a responsible man. I have found someone who could provide love and stability to my life. I wish you all the best and should you ever need something, call Monika. There is no reason for us to stop being friends.”

  “Stronzo! Sciagurato! Figlio di puttana! You're fucking with that little Russian slut! Pervert!”

  “Not really.”

  Her howl put him on guard and he was able to dodge the porcelain box hurled in his direction with incredibly good aim. The box crashed against the wall and Konrad knew that it was the time to leave the woman shouting atrocities at him. 'Good Lord, what manners! I doubt Guntram could be able of such a display even if he were furious with me.'

  Konrad left the building to find his long-time bodyguard, Ricardo, leaning against the black car, smoking a cigarette. The man jumped to attention the minute he saw his boss leaving the building as he were chased by the devil ('or a cunning witch') and opened the door for him.

  “And people wonder why I never married before,” Konrad snorted, before entering inside the car. “Tell Monika to call her manager and arrange the details. She's too upset to remember it.”

  Ricardo closed the door with great satisfaction. Miss Barberini was officially out after lasting ten years, four months and three days. A world record.

  Perhaps the rumours about that young French becoming the Duke's new lover were true. It wouldn't be the first time his employer had fun with a man. 'Hope this time it lasts, seems to be a good boy, nothing like the vipers he beds. Ratko says he's nice.' Ricardo thought as he sat in the passenger's side indicating with his head that they should drive back home.

  Still upset for getting a powder box flung at his head and accused of being a pervert—why could no one believe that his love for Guntram was pure and selfless?—Konrad needed to calm down or someone would suffer his bad temper. Watching the boy sleep had always that strange therapeutic effect on him. He entered in his room on tiptoes, noticing that the window was open and his pencils were scattered over the cover. 'One of these days, he's going to stab himself with one of those things.' Konrad moved his head disapprovingly while he removed the items and left them over the bedside table. 'He's so beautiful that I can't take away my eyes from him. When did I fall in love? Was it when he smiled at me for the first time? No. When he let me touch his face and looked at me with his big eyes? Not that time. I was already mad about him. The times we were speaking together or walking in the forest? When he looked at everything in awe and showed me beauty even in a dirty pond? No, I loved him since the moment he sat next to Goran in the car, looking terrified but doing his best to conceal his fear and face me.'

  Konrad crossed the room as silently as he could, closing the open window. 'It's cold for him. A draft could be dangerous.' He approached the bed and covered Guntram better, taking a good look at him, soundly asleep.

  'Roger told me that his father used to call him his “little prince” and how right he was!'

  'No, I can't be friends with Guntram. He has to be my consort.'

  The glaring sun woke Konrad up. Cursing at the late hour, he sat on his bed and rang for that incompetent of a butler. 'I clearly told him at eight and its 11:54! Idiot!' The butler knocked at the door very timidly, knowing beforehand that his employer was very upset. His short temper was legendary and yesterday he had broken up with the model he favoured so much. The heads would start to roll in any minute. He had kept his temper in check since he had arrived with the young French and behaved well toward his staff.

  “I said at eight, Mario!” Konrad started his scold but a soft knocking stopped it. “Come in!”

  “Good morning, Konrad,” Guntram greeted him, carrying a dish covered with a napkin in his right hand.

  “Your bodyguard told me you returned very late and I asked Mario to let you sleep. There's no need to go today to the Vatican. We can do it some other day,” he said simply.

  “In that case…” Konrad answered, settling for throwing a dirty glance at his butler, who ran away in haste to bring a cup of coffee for his master.

  “Come Guntram, sit with me. I apologise for the inconvenience,” he said, moving to one side of the bed to leave some free room, but the boy sat in the couch at his right side. 'Not what I was expecting. For once, he's in my room, he's dressed and sitting on a darned couch.'

  “Were you out?” Konrad asked, noticing that the boy was wearing simple beige trousers and a striped shirt with normal shoes.

  “Yes, since 7 a.m. In the farm. My models from yesterday are today's lunch.” he replied, smiling while the butler placed a small silver tray with a cup of black coffee on top of Konrad's bedside table. “It will be pretty soon.

  Maria Domenica promised to bake a chicken pie for me.”

  “Did she really say “chicken pie”?” Konrad asked incredulous.

  “Pasticcino di pollo. Is it chicken pie, right?”

  “Yes, it is but she doesn't cook since 1995! My house keeper is retired!” Konrad was irked to say the minimum. The woman knew he loved it since he was a child, but since her retirement, she refused to cook for him, only taking care of the house management.

  “She told me yesterday night she was going to make one for me. And she has given me this too. It's like small apple cakes. They're really good and thought that I could save one for you.” Guntram answered removing the napkin to show two perfectly golden small apple pastries, covered with honey.

  “I'm asking her to bake them since 1994. I adored them when I was a child, but she retired and stopped making them. She keeps the recipe under seven locks!” Konrad said with a mixture of resentment, jealousy and admiration. “Since when do you know Maria?”

  “From yesterday night. I didn't want to eat alone and had dinner with your butler and her, in the kitchen.

  He's also a very kind man. She has relatives in Argentina and we were speaking long about it.”

  “And you got the cakes…”

  “Plus the recipe. She says that Jean Jacques should bake them for me. Do you want to try it?” Guntram came closer to the bed offering the dish to Konrad.

  “Exactly as I remember them,” he said after the first bite. “How did you manage it? She refuses to do it for me!”

  “Did you try with “please”?”

  'Coming to think no, but it's her job,' Konrad thought, but said nothing, too busy finishing the pastry.

  “You can have the other too, Konrad. Perhaps I could convince her to make more,” Guntram chortled very amused.

  “Do it and I'll name you my heir,” Konrad said seriously and Guntram laughed, shaking his head negatively. “Come, sit here. I'm always trespassing in your bedroom.” Konrad tried for a second time and the boy sat on the other side of his bed.

  “How was your evening?” he asked casually.

  'He's jealous!' Konrad realised joyfully but his happiness was a short lived one: “Is it as luxurious as Oggi says? Were there celebrities? Jennifer Anniston was coming to the opening this week!” when the youth asked him at full speed.

  “Who?” Konrad grunted, crossed that Guntram was more interested in the place than what he had been doing.

  “You can not know her. The girl from “Friends”! Rachel!” Guntram snorted.

  “Does she work in a bank?”

  “No! She's an actress. Very famous!”

  “If she was there, I missed her. I was with Stefania.” Konrad put some emphasis on the last word of the sent
ence.

  “Yes, I know. She's a very beautiful woman. I remember her now. Was she not the one from this cosmetics campaign; the one with the Greek goddess or was it Helena of Troy?”

  “Helena,” Konrad grunted, displeased at the turn the conversation was taking.

  “Very beautiful indeed,” Guntram said lost in his thoughts. “If I were you, I would be very happy that a woman like her calls at my door,” he finished, his gaze fixed in a brocade's detail.

  Konrad couldn't help it. He had enough. He bent his body over the unsuspecting boy and firmly gripped his chin and kissed him full on the lips, capturing his soft lips to devour them, enjoying the gasp and surprise from Guntram.

  Guntram was petrified when he felt the man kissing him with so much ardour, like Constantin had never done before. It was like being kissed by a volcano and without realising it he put his arms around the powerful neck and shoulders offering himself to Konrad, letting him taste him fully.

  Konrad immediately put his arms around the boy's waist pulling him with a light jerk on top of his body, revelling on how the boy kissed him back without restraints or calculations, naturally responding to his caresses, surrendering every wall to him and letting him take all what he wanted. His hands roamed through his back, briefly resting on his bottom and the need to feel Guntram under him was overpowering. With infinite care he turned so the child would be under him, without interrupting his kisses, savouring the mixture of tenderness, youthful eagerness and surrender he was receiving.

  Guntram slightly spread his legs to let the man positioning himself better, feeling an unknown electricity running through his spine. “God, he's a hundred times better than Constantin,” his mind acknowledged and the consequent “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” came as a natural result with lightening speed.

  He pushed away the surprised man on top of him. Konrad grunted in disbelief that what was one of the best kisses he had enjoyed in years had been cut off so abruptly. He saw Guntram jumping out of the bed, standing by the door looking at him with horror, shock and embarrassment. The boy opened the door and ran away to his private living room and to corridor.