by Young
Similar to the arcane bathhouse in Mecca where Najib and Ismile took us, this establishment housed an indoor swimming pool next to a communal hot tub. Wonted accouterments and services were also readily available. This includes the procurement of Tellaks (bathing attendants) for “private services.”
After an intensive scrub-down by the burly masseurs, an opportunity to speak with my Arabian patriarchs arrived as we sat by the pool. Our conversation soon turned to Genies, the spirits of the Hammam.
“Did you know that Jinn are shapeshifters and they like to dwell in wet places?” Tad expressed.
The prince and the sheik gave their playfellow a wicked grin before P remarked, “I know you’re one such Genii who knows no boundaries.”
Tad chortled at his friend’s declaration.
Fahrib added, “Like you, genies are wickedly naughty. Males and females love their unscrupulousness.”
The trio burst out in laughter at their zingers.
The sheik resumed, “Do you know that Genii is the Latin word for Genius, the spirits that watch over every man. Genius is responsible for forming a man’s character and actions.”
“I’m not doing too badly in that aspect?” the athlete quipped.
The prince sallied, “You are doing pretty well in cuckoldries.”
“I can do whatever I please I’m not married like the both of you,” Tad expressed before he turned in my direction.
He asked, “What do you think, Young?”
“Your prowess is in excellent condition, sir,” I quipped complimentarily.
“Tad, you do have a way with fairy boys,” the prince jested.
“Sir, do you believe in fairies?” I asked.
“I believe in adorable ‘fairies’ like you,” Fahrib opined amusingly.
“When Andy and I were in the English Lake District, I encountered real fairies. They have a message for my three munificent hosts,” I announced.
“Tell us what the fairies said,” P inquired entertainingly.
I related my spritely experiences to my Arabian patriarchs. By the time I finish, they had beseeched me with a series of questions to authenticate my faery encounters. Even though Andy was not a staunch preternatural believer, he substantiated my proclamations. He also verified our conversations with both the fairy experts - Aunt Mary and Professor Frederick Thomason.
Siegfried who was born in the land of fairy legends also related his empirical anecdotes to our group. His input was a welcome verification to my preternatural sightings.
Señor Triqueros reasoned, “Although Young’s fairy pronouncements may sound outlandish, many parallel realms co-exist with our world and deforestation is indeed a major problem. It has resulted in ecological, environmental damages, biodiversity losses, and aridity are just a few dilemmas our planet is facing. Deforestation is a serious issue nations must address. Otherwise, humans and animals will suffer the apocalyptic effects of this ongoing adversity.”
I was surprised that our bathhouse discussion did leave a subliminal mark in my patriarchs subconscious. A few months later, the athlete and the sheik confided to me that they had pulled their investments from a significant Madagascan development venture. A project that involved the cutting down acreages of virgin forest. Although, neither Masters mentioned their withdrawals were due to my fairy communiqué; I had a premonition that my message from Queen Mab was of vital importance. I had fulfilled my promise to relay her missive to the Arab sovereigns.
Early in July 1968
Cirencester, Cotswolds, England
The six and half hour train ride from Penrith to Cirencester was nothing short of scenic. As the tranquil English country-scape flew by the carriage windows, I couldn’t help but reminisce about my recent fay encounters. I had written down my thoughts and experiences in a journal since I first set foot in the United Kingdom, and my faerie encounters were no exception to the rule.
My Valet and I were on our way to visit Albert, our dear friend who was expelled from Daltonbury Hall after his excessive drug abuse and misconduct at our last Arabian household. He was also barred from the Enlightened Royal Oracle Society. His fall from grace was nothing short of painful for E.R.O.S., Daltonbury and the boy’s family. Andy had carted Albert back to the Assalamu Alaikum household before he was dispatched posthaste to the “Rabbit-Hole” (Daltonbury Hall’s private clinic) for interim treatment. Doctor Hunton (Rabbit-Hole’s resident physician) consigned the lad to a professional rehabilitation center hitherto given leave to return to his parent’s Cotswolds estate to convalesce.
Andy, Albert’s responsible Big-Brother and ex-lover suggested we pay the teenager a visit to check on his progress. My chaperone had telephoned ahead to inform his ex of our stay. His family had kindly sent their chauffeured Bentley to collect us from Cirencester train station to Mr. and Mrs. Levenport’s ancestral home. Sissinghurst Court was a well-kept Victorian profligacy with its glorious Oriental gardens, and Maharaja style palace was our lodging during our time at Sissinghurst Court. Albert, the Levenport’s eldest boy, would eventually inherit this sprawling country mansion.
Upon my return to London after the Cotswolds, I was to join my mother and her entourage for a two-week European tour before I headed back to Daltonbury Hall to commence my new school year. In the final week of July 1968, Andy and I reconvened at school before we were dispatched to our next Arabian household.
Sissinghurst Court
Our luggage was placed in separate rooms by the Sissinghurst Court footman. My high ceiling chamber was decorated in the grandest of style. Royal blue velvet drapes edged with gold trailed the sides of its massive French windows that open onto a semicircular balcony. Fragrant roses entwined the ancient balustrades as if Romeo would climb its vines to woo his beloved Juliet. A vast canopied bed welcomed me to a good night’s rest. Andy occupied an adjacent room down the corridor that was as scrumptiously furnished as mine.
Mrs. Genevieve Levenport, a regal woman in her early forties, greeted us at the entrance as soon as we embarked the Bentley. Dressed in a floaty silk caftan with a turbaned headdress, she guided us to the garden where we found our school chum lounging in the warm sun. He was delighted to see us, especially my Valet.
His affection for his ex-lover had not waned. He had hung on the hope that Andy would ride in like a chivalrous knight to sweep him off his feet again; even if he was aware that Andy and I had resumed our romantic liaison.
My time at E.R.O.S. had taught me not to interrupt my lover from doing what he desires. It is by granting him the freedom, he will return to me on his own accord, and our bond would thus become more resilient.
The Tour
When Genevieve offered to show me her munificent estate after tea, I accepted her invitation without hesitation, to give Andy time to catch up with his ex. Our hostess breathed a sigh of relief as soon as we were out of earshot from the duo.
“Thank you for coming to visit Albert. He misses the both of you,” the lady of the manor declared.
“We miss him too. He is recuperating well,” I remarked.
Mrs. Levenport looked disheartened. “It has been an uphill battle, especially for the poor boy, but he is recovering well. I’m grateful that he is substance free.”
She paused and gave another sigh.
“I hope Daltonbury will reinstate my son. We vowed to Dean Higgins that our boy will not recidivate his drug use if he is readmitted.”
She was in tears. My heart reached out to her.
“Andy and I will put in a good word to our headmaster to have Albert reinstated,” I comforted.
“That would be wonderful. The both of you know my son better than me. He misses your friendship. Albert looks up to the both of you. His forlornness evaporated as soon as he heard Andy and you were visiting,” the hostess commented.
“Albert is our cherished friend, and we are delighted to spend time with him,” I answered encouragingly; even when the lad had not been pleasant to me in our last household.
My erudite Professor Triqueros precepts had not fallen on deaf ears. He had fortified me to forgo my past grievances and to forge a productive life. The moment I released my resentments, relief flooded my person, and my lightness of spirit returned with a vengeance.
I assured my hostess, “Andy and I will do our utmost to assist Albert. He’s a good person. I’m glad to be his friend.”
She held my hands to hers before she uttered, “I’m happy to hear you say that. It means a lot to my family. Our home is always open to the both of you.”
I thanked her before we rejoined my Valet and his ex.
Third Week of July 2014
My Response to David’s Message, Cc to Andy
Hi David,
My jealousy rose its ugly head when my roommate, John slept with my ex-big-brother. Nikee was my first love. When I espied their lovemaking, I felt as if my world had crumbled, yet I was bewitched by their eroticism.
Jealousy is painful to control. It remains an unconquerable emotion for me to this day. Luckily, under my mentors’ guidance, I can decrypt this abhorrent sentiment.
These were Nikee’s words on jealousy:
“Jealousy is an emotion that refers to the thoughts and feelings of insecurity, fear, concern, and anxiety over an anticipated loss of status, something or someone of great personal value; particularly a human connection. This emotion consists of anger, resentment, inadequacy, helplessness, and disgust.”
He went on to clarify that jealousy is a human relationship experience; a culture-specific phenomenon and can be cynical or reactive. It is a reinforcement of a series of intense emotions, constructed as a universal human experience.
He also specified that there are different models of underlying jealousy processes, such as cultural beliefs and values. Both are important factors that trigger jealousy, and its socially acceptable expressions of this sentiment. Suspicion is also based on the religious views of a person’s faith.
My ex-Big-Brother was quick to point out that sexual jealousy is prompted when a person’s significant other displays sexual interest in another person. The feeling of resentment is as powerful if one partner suspects the other of infidelity. The fear that their partner - the one who is unfaithful may lie about their actions to protect their partner.
Many believe that sexual jealousy is a biological imperative. A part of the human and animal mechanism to ensure access to the best reproductive partners in heterosexual relationships. Male jealousy is often influenced by their female partner’s menstrual cycle phase. Males display more mate-retention tactics around and before ovulation. Furthermore, men employ mate-retention tactics if their partner shows interest in other men, during the pre-ovulation phase.
My ex-professor, Alain Dubois also explicated that emotional jealousy is more responsive in females than in males. Women are more violent than men when experiencing similar sentiments.
There are distinct emotional responses to gender differences in romantic relationships. Alain cited that paternal uncertainty increases in males over sexual infidelity. Women are likely to be upset by signs of resource withdraw (i.e., another female) than by sexual infidelity.
He counseled that jealousy is a life stage or experience a person encounters to the diverse responses to infidelity. When both sexes are equally angry, the blame is often directed at the fornicator; even when women are more hurt by emotional infidelity than her counterpart. Anger surfaces when both parties involved are responsible for their unruly behavior when sexual behavior and actions are controllable. Hurt feelings are activated by relationship deviation.
Jealousy had remained a temporary emotion for me. I am grateful to be taught the stratagem to subdue this green-eyed monster before it rears its ugly head once again.
This is one reason, my relationships with my ex-Big-Brothers/Valets/mentors (be they sexual or otherwise) had remained graciously respectful and reverential.
I look forward to hearing about your relationships with your ex-chaperones/Valets and counselors.
Best wishes!
Young
Intimate Propositions (Chapter Nineteen)
“One of the things you learn in rehab is that you’re responsible for your own actions.”
Albert James Levenport
Early in November 1968
Hotel Saint George, Algiers, Algeria
The moment the bell boys deposited our luggage in the historic Hotel Saint George, Tad announced his impending departure to Argentina. The athlete’s agent/manager, Horacio had sent word that he was needed at the Campeonato Argentino Abierto de Polo (Argentine Polo Open Championship) conference in Buenos Aires. The athlete’s original plan was to return to England after our Maghribian vacation before heading to South America for the scheduled tournament in December.
Professor Eberhardt, my Master’s personal trainer accompanied the athlete to Argentina. I was left in the care of Señor Triqueros. Since Andy and I were under Sheik Fahrib and Prince P’s patronage, we continued our sojourn to Algeria and Morocco before following the Count to Paris and Asia to assist him in his Sacred Sex in Sacred Places photography and Carousel discotheque projects.
Hotel Saint George, built on the site of a former Arab-Ottoman palace opened for business in 1889. This opulent Moorish architectural jewel overlooks the Bay of Algeria. Luxuriant Arden surrounded its extensive grounds that housed a vast variety of Mediterranean herbaceous vegetation and birds. Celebrity lodgers, the likes of Edith Piaf, Simone de Beauvoir, General Dwight D. Eisenhower, General Mark W. Clark, and Sir Winston Churchill had enjoyed this peaceful milieu.
The famous French essayist, novelist, and dramatist, Henri de Montherlant once said of this renowned establishment: “I’m glad to experience Heaven on earth.”
This lodging, named after the English Patron Saint George was the preferred address for many English bourgeoisie at the turn of the twentieth century. Although the name has changed to El-Djazair, this guest house remains an affluent venue in the Algerian capital and continues to be a benchmark for all national and international personalities to savor and to relive the splendor of a bygone era.
In My Master’s Suite
It was within this Corinthian splendor that Tad summoned me to his chamber before his departure to Buenos Aires.
As soon as I entered the room, the athlete announced, “Young, I need your help.”
“How can I be of assistance?” I inquired.
He asserted, “I want you to seduce Siegfried during dinner.”
I looked at the man, puzzled by his request.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because the German is in our way,” he declared before he implored, “Mario and I want to have a ménage à trois with Kalf. We’ve been flirting with the lad since we met. It is difficult to woo the boy when his boyfriend is unwilling to share his swag. I want to have a rendezvous with him before I leave for Argentina. Will you help us? You’ll be rewarded handsomely.”
I did not know how to respond by such a request.
He continued, “Even though Siegfried desires to bed you, and Kalf with Mario and me; the two aren’t open about their covetousness for other men. They are jealous lovers.”
“Sir, aren’t you playing a dangerous game? Those two were already proprietorial at our Al-Zaytuna Mosque erotic shoot. When we left the mosque, they were at each other’s throats,” I expressed.
“If they don’t find out we are playing them, we’ll be in for a home run,” my Master answered mischievously.
“Will you help us make it a win-win situation for everyone involved?”
I paused before I replied, “I’ll have to run it by Andy.”
“I have a better idea. Get your chaperone involved in a ménage à trois with Siegfried. The both of you can show the German that an open-relationship is more pleasurable than monogamy,” the athlete chirped excitedly. “We must put my plan to action. We’ve no time to lose.”
“What if the plan backfires?” I opined with uncertainty.
�
�If you guys follow my instructions it wouldn’t backfire,” he assured.
By the time, I left my Master’s chamber, he had planted his plan into my ear. Yet, I wavered to his deviousness.
Conversation with My Valet
Andy was waiting outside the Arab’s chamber when I led him into the tranquil garden, I related my Master’s proposal to my Valet.
“What do you think of Tad’s plan?” I asked.
“First and foremost, before we consider his scheme, we must ask ourselves. Do we fancy Siegfried?” Andy questioned.
I nodded.
“I’ll have a fling with the German if the opportunity arises. I do like to have a fling with him. He is not someone I will consider for a serious relationship. I don’t have the affinity with him like I do with you,” I answered ardently.
“Do you fancy him?” I asked.
My chaperone broke out in laughter. “I knew that was coming. I’m game if the rendezvous involves you. Young, whatever makes you happy will also bring me joy.”
“You are the most generous person I know.”
I kissed my lover affectionately before I recited Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem:
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the end of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day.’
The quietest need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use