Turpitude Read online

  A Harem Boy’s Saga

  Book IV: Turpitude

  A Memoir by Young

  This memoir is dedicated to my ex-big-brother,

  Valet, mentor, and guardian,

  Andrew A. Finckenstein.

  “I remember that pivotal moment as a teenager when

  I realized that these authoritative figures

  are human beings too,

  and they are figuring their lives out

  just like me.”

  Bernard Tristan Foong

  (a.k.a. Young)

  A Harem Boy’s Sga IV: Turpitude

  Solstice Publishing – www.solsticepublishing.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.

  Author’s Website:

  www.aharemboysaga.com

  Author’s email:

  [email protected]

  The contents of this book constitute a work of NONFICTION. It documents the author’s experiences, and is not intended as an exposé. Names of actual places and people have been changed to protect their privacy.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author or publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book contains substantial sexually explicit material and language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

  Book Editing by Ellen Fishbein

  Prologue

  Ever since I first connected with my ex-lover/Valet and chaperone, our email correspondences have been sporadic. We are older and wiser – we are treating our affectionate sentiments with caution and taking time to be reacquainted, especially considering that I’m in a long-term relationship with my partner of 18 years. I have to take my partner’s emotions into consideration. Andy and I are no longer free-spirited teenagers who would throw caution to the wind or let down our guard to live as if we were invincible.

  During the course of writing Debauchery, my ex and I had toyed with the possibility of penning the fourth book of our Arab Household experiences together. We came to the conclusion that it would be a good idea to collaborate on A Harem Boy’s Saga – IV – Turpitude, and we decided that I would write the book as I’d experienced the events through the eyes of my adolescent years, and Andy would incorporate his insights wherever he deemed appropriate.

  I’ve no doubt that as we progressed along the passage of our joint penmanship, there would be occasions when our opinions will differ. Like a court of justice, where the prosecution and defense attorneys provide disparate perspectives, here, Andy and I will present our cases, and the readers will be the jurors. It will also help both of us revisit our past experiences and re-evaluate our thoughts then and now.

  Although my beloved ex does not wish to sign his name as the co-author of Turpitude, he, like Dr. Arius in book III – Debauchery, will play a vital role in enhancing A Harem Boy’s Saga for the readers and for me.

  Young.

  Contents

  Prologue

  PART ONE

  Chapter One – Campos de Fresa para Siempre

  Chapter Two – In A Valley of Andorra

  Chapter Three – Renaixença – Rebirth

  Chapter Four – Gloria in Execelis Deo

  Chapter Five – Fight Club

  Chapter Six – What Happened By the Lake?

  Chapter Seven – The Prophesies

  Chapter Eight – An Unexpected Expediency

  Chapter Nine – At The Red Ball

  Chapter Ten – Visionaries & Illusionists

  Chapter Eleven – Spiritualism vs. Anomalisic Psychology

  Chapter Twelve – ‘G’ A-Go-Go

  Chapter Thirteen – Saints & Sinners

  PART TWO

  Chapter Fourteen – The Anomalous Sir Ernest Ozwalt Mossey

  Chapter Fifteen – An Unorthodox Proposal

  Chapter Sixteen – The Foibles of Young Love

  Chapter Seventeen – An Unanticipated Visitor

  Chapter Eighteen – What Is Love?

  Chapter Nineteen – The Golden Boy

  Chapter Twenty – Falling In Love Again

  Chapter Twenty-One – On the Street Where You Live

  Chapter Twenty-Two – Museum Het Rembrandthuis

  Chapter Twenty-Three – Coitus Interruptus

  Chapter Twenty-Four – The District

  Chapter Twenty-Five – The Leather Bar

  Chapter Twenty-Six – A Show Of Hands

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – Sahasrāra & Samadhi

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Auction

  Chapter Twenty-Nine – Our Wistful Melancholy

  PART THREE

  Chapter Thirty – The Power Of Oneness

  Chapter Thirty-One – A Passage To India

  Chapter Thirty-Two – Ecasty & Jealousy

  Chapter Thirty-Three – Imperial Jurisdictions

  Chapter Thirty-Four – TransZendental Introspection

  Chapter Thirty-Five – Sehnsucht

  Chapter Thirty-Six – The Accident & The Incident

  Chapter Thirty-Seven – Lakshmi’s Abode

  Chapter Thirty-Eight – Bollywood to Hollywood

  Chapter Thirty-Nine – Exotic Erotic Delights

  PART FOUR

  Chapter Forty – Forbidden Fruits

  Chapter Forty-One – Assalamu Alaikum

  Chapter Forty-Two – Rotten Apples

  Chapter Forty-Three – Courtly Propositions

  Chapter Forty-Four – Norway Of Arabia

  Chapter Forty-Five – We Are Here To Serve, Not To Fall In Love

  Chapter Forty-Six – Infectious Infatuation

  Chapter Forty-Seven – To Wear Or Not To Wear

  Chapter Forty-Eight – Command Performances

  Chapter Forty-Nine – The Lovers, The Stalker, & The Voyeur

  Chapter Fifty – The Misfits

  Chapter Fifty-One – Say A Little Prayer

  PART FIVE

  Chapter Fifty-Two – Serendipitous Miscalculations

  Chapter Fifty-Three – A Hymn To Him

  Chapter Fifty-Four – London’s Gentlemen’s Club

  Chapter Fifty-Five – Club Nobbing

  Chapter Fifty-Six – Shop Till You Drop

  Chapter Fifty-Seven – Windows To Secret Realms

  Chapter Fifty-Eight – By Appointment To Her Majesty The Queen

  Chapter Fifty-Nine – Designing Men

  Chapter Sixty – An ‘Unexpected Pearl’

  Chapter Sixty-One – Neilyn Munrow & Fair Cecily

  Chapter Sixty-Two – From Russia With Love

  Chapter Sixty-Three – Sparkles & Blings

  Chapter Sixty-Four – The Male Gaze

  Chapter Sixty-Five – Lover’s Tale

  Chapter Sixty-Six – Sex & Love

  Chapter Sixty-Seven – Body Electric

  Chapter Sixty-Eight – Vipers & Charmers

  Chapter Sixty-Nine – Casting Couch

  Epilogue

  Author’s Bio

  Acknowledgements

  PART ONE

  Spain – Barcelona, Andorra

  France – Aubigny-sur-Nere

  Chapter One

  Campos de Fresa para Siempre

  “Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.”

  Henry Van Dyke

  1967 - A Week before Christmas

  Aeropuerto de Barcelona-El Prat

  In 1967, Spain’s second largest international airport terminal was about to be revamped to better facilitate and accommodate international commuters and loc
al travelers.

  As Andy and I made our way to the arrival lounge, we were expecting to see Oscar, Alfonso and Mary waiting to greet us, but we couldn’t see through the walls of holiday visitors. We searched the area for 20 minutes before a couple of hippie characters tapped our shoulders from behind. Neither Andy nor I recognized them as our beloved ex-lover and our Spanish friend.

  What had happened to the Oscar we knew?

  Oscar’s handsome face was now shrouded by a scruffy beard and thin, gold-rimmed John Lennon glasses. A red bandana tied across his forehead kept his shoulder-length hair from flying across his angular face. The cool, clean T-shirts, dress-shirts and casual pants he once wore had made way for form-fitting floral shirts, “Easy Rider” motorcycle jackets and worn-out bell-bottom jeans. Beaded wrist bands and a decorative leather strap hung on his once unadorned physique. His casual loafers and formal lace-ups were now colorful platforms and biker boots. My ex-big brother and his newly acquired lover, Alfonso, had mutated into “make love not war” hippie maniacs within just three months.

  Turning around to these two men, Andy asked without recognition, “Yes... can we help you?”

  I couldn’t keep myself from shrieking, “Oscar, Alfonso! What happened to you?”

  My Valet turned to me in astonishment. His enlarged pupils dilated when he glared at our ex-lover and his friend.

  My guardian exclaimed as nonchalantly as he could, “Oscar! So good to see you, my good man!” He leaned over to embrace our ex while the once suavely put-together Alfonso enveloped me in a bear hug. I was smushed against his hairy chin while my face got buried in his long golden locks, which suffocated me in the process. He wobbled me around as if I were a cuddly teddy bear before changing partners.

  Just like his beau, my ex-BB engulfed me as if I had been resurrected from the dead. He also did something he had never done before in front of so many strangers: he held me tightly and French kissed me vigorously. It was as if time had stood still within our ambit. I responded in kind to his amorous alacrity. Like a film being played in slow motion, our ephemeral intensities seemed to defy gravitational exertions. Everything and everyone around us seemed to have blurred into the background. In the passion of the moment, Oscar and I had merged into a living, breathing and loving organism. We rotated as a single entity within the center of our universe. Then, simultaneously, we were tapped back into reality by Andy and the Spaniard.

  Andy gave me a duplicitous glance, informing me that I should tread with caution until he could work out the situation. The Oscar standing in front of us was unlike the man we had known, and that was cause for concern for my Valet and me. We exchanged secret glances, wondering what had happened.

  In the Camper

  As soon as we got to the airport parking lot, a psychedelically painted “Hippie Van” was staring right at our faces. Andy and I looked astonished. We were beginning to wonder if we had arrived on a different planet and met a couple of aliens we thought were Oscar and Alfonso.

  Although the 1968 Volkswagen Camper was brand new, it was completely covered with floral graffiti. A huge, brightly colored peace sign was airbrushed onto the front. At the rear was an equally large rainbow, artfully painted between the pull-out doors. Needless to say, the interior lacked no splashy colors. An array of gauzy Indian sari fabrics hung across each window panel. This transporter had no seats; in their place were gaudy mattresses covered with cushions and pillows of varied sizes. I felt as if I’d entered a Hindu temple; the smell of heavy incense burned to camouflage traces of odorous recreational drugs.

  As soon as Oscar, Andy and I were located in the passenger portion of this ‘art bus,’ Alfonso slammed on the accelerator. The driver and passenger sections were separated by a sliding glass partition, and the Spaniard was allowing us a chance to talk with our ex-lover in private.

  Andy was the first to speak, “How are you, Oscar? What brought about this new you?” He was being polite without sounding imperious.

  Oscar beamed his charismatic grin at the both of us before answering, “Now that I don’t have to follow Daltonbury or the society’s rules and regulations, I can express myself the way I choose.”

  Before he could continue, Andy commented, “Like being a flower child?”

  My ex gave us a devilish wink before he resumed, “I’m enjoying my new freedom. I’m a freeman, man, and it’s liberating.”

  “Liberating to do what?” Andy asked. “Experiment with drugs and be stoned out of your mind?”

  Oscar said defensively, “Don’t lecture me with that condescending voice of yours, Andy. I’m a proud student at the prestigious Vienna University and having the time of my life…”

  “You’ve transformed into a different person within our short absence. Are you sure you are having the time of your life?” I tweeted curiously.

  “Of course I am, lad,” he reached over to ruffle my hair. “I still have the hots for you, and so does my boyfriend (he indicated the driver). I’m sure our other brethren will be delighted to meet you, too.”

  Andy cut in. “What other brethren?” My Valet stared intensely at Oscar.

  “You’ll find out soon enough, Mr. Valet,” my ex-Big Brother (BB) teased.

  Andy made no effort to curb his fervor. He reached to slap the side of Oscar’s head, hoping that he would explain himself further. Then, the vehicle came to a screeching halt, and we were suddenly thrown backwards. Alfonso had slammed on the brakes to stop from running a red light.

  The three of us tumbled onto the pillows and mattresses. Oscar landed on top of me. He made no effort to lift himself off, instead he took this opportunity to kiss me amorously on my mouth, as if he could not wait to consummate his lust. Taken aback by such impetuousness, which was unlike the Oscar I knew, I struggled to free myself from underneath him. My impishness only served to boost his dominance over my boyish physique, as his hands ripped at my shirt. My guardian pulled him off me before he could tear away my garment. They wrestled on the mattresses within the moving vehicle. I shrieked for them to stop, but they continued trashing, grabbling and kicking like two madmen until exhaustion overcame my ex-big brother.

  My Valet’s muscular hands had pinned Oscar’s wrists securely onto the mattress. It was only then that he sanctioned defeat.

  Andy spoke commandingly, “Don’t you dare treat our little brother like that! He is not your slave to be had whenever you’re in heat. Treat the lad with respect, and I will do the same to you!” He pulled the hippie to a sitting position before releasing his grip.

  He vented, “Now, tell us what’s happening. Where are we going, and why are you behaving like a moron?”

  Just as his last words were uttered, the art mobile made a swift turn through a gravel driveway. The signage above the archway read “Campos de Fresa para Siempre.”

  Campos de Fresa para Siempre

  Alfonso slid open the van’s door for us. He uttered, “Welcome, guys, to ‘Strawberry Fields Forever.’ This is our humble abode, and yours as well, for the duration of your stay in Barcelona.”

  Before Andy had a chance to query, Alfonso and a couple of the commune’s male residents had carried our luggage into the two-story farm house. There were a handful of women, including Mary and her newly acquainted girlfriend, Jewel, together with a gaggle of five men who could not be more than 25 years of age. There were also two children, a boy and a girl who looked around six. The lodgers were chatting animatedly among themselves when we entered the house. Oscar and the Spaniard introduced us. The majority of them communicated in Spanish, Portuguese, Belgian and Dutch – languages that Andy and I did not understand. The residents who spoke English were Mary, Jewel, an eighteen-year-old woman named Pratnah, two guys, Lukas (a 21-year-old Belgian) and Hans (a 20-year-old Dutchman), besides Alfonso, Oscar, Andy and me.

  Hans and Mary guided us to our upstairs bedroom. All lodgers shared the communal bathrooms both upstairs and below stairs. No doors separated the rooms – there were only drapes or beaded curt
ains to ensure some privacy. Anyone could walk into any of the rooms at any given moment, whether the occupants were in private or with company. This was a hippie commune in the truest sense of the phrase.

  Finally, my Valet and I had a moment to ourselves while taking a stroll around this private property, where farm animals and vegetable gardens thrived hand-in-hand with their human counterparts. When Andy and I were out of earshot, Andy shook his head and said, “It’s hard to imagine Oscar being like this.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to my Valet’s remark. He continued, “For his sake, I hope he’s not going down a subservient path, led by his new beau. I fear for his wellbeing. This type of communal living is so unlike Oscar.”

  “I’m sure our ex-big brother is a sensible and a responsible person. After all, he is one of us,” I reassured my chaperone.

  “I’m not so sure, Young. People can change at the drop of a hat. He may be doing this in reaction to the disciplinary lifestyle we’ve been taught to live. This may well be his idea of freedom of personal expression.”

  I chirped, “We should give him the benefit of the doubt. We have six days with him and our friends before we leave to spend Christmas with Baron Pierre. I think we should keep an open mind and see what transpires during the time we’re here.”

  “Young, you’ve suddenly become wise beyond your years, you little twerp,” he jested. “It wasn’t long ago when I had to bail you out of problematic situations. My, oh my, you are growing up right before my eyes.”

  He gave my butt a mischievous slap. My lover couldn’t help himself from tugging down my pants while I playfully resisted his frivolous innuendos. He threw me onto the ground, pulling at my pants that were already halfway swirling around my hips. His sparkling blue-green eyes never left my gaze as we frolicked like young lovers on the field.