Turpitude Read online

  Still, as we danced, we were exhilarated. We didn’t feel like our wonted selves.

  Before long, the groups were in varied stages of heated passion. Andy blathered nonsensically and appeared inebriated. He zonked onto an empty sofa before a couple of women straddled his lap.

  Under the stifling sultriness, I felt nauseated and desperately needed fresh air. I was seeing doubles. I left the house and stumbled to the edge of the lake for peace and equilibrium. To my surprise, I heard sounds of snorting animals. I turned – a few yards from me stood what looked like two centaurs. Their upper torsos were that of two sinewy men yet their lower bodies were that of horses. Their aquiline noses brushed against each other as if they were delving into a passionate kiss. Upon closer observation, I was astonished to see their colossal wings fanning out of their massive bodies. I lay motionless, transfixed by this extraordinary sight. I was unsure if hallucination had befallen me or if the scenario was truly happening.

  Suddenly, a pair of Herculean arms grabbed my throat, choking me. I struggled for breath. During the commotion that followed, I was forcefully dragged into the woods. This man-bull tore at my clothes, ripping them to shreds. He tugged at me to follow as I kicked and screamed for help. No one in the quiet forest heard. In a state of panic, I bit his arm, which provoked him further. A slap landed on my face. In the semi darkness, I recognized the beast. He was the Viking, the man who Alfonso swore would not be present. Yet there he was, his minacious claws threatening to rip me to shreds if I did not obey his desires. I knew if no divine intervention came to my rescue I would be raped and murdered by this beast.

  This hefty semi-human horse threw me onto the dirt floor. His aroused phallus curved skywards like a dangerous weapon, at the ready to assault his victim. I felt like a ton of bricks had hit my pounding head. I squeezed my eyes shut, snatched a handful of dirt and threw it at my abductor just as he was about to pounce on me. I heard a thunderous roar. I had temporarily blinded him.

  In a moment of lucidity, I sprang onto my feet and ran as fast as my legs could carry me. Throwing me off balance, his lusty hand grabbed my ankles. I landed on my face, scraping my knees in the process. The varmint pulled me towards his engorged organ, forcing my mouth onto his groin. Refusing to surrender to his onslaught I tightened my jaw. “Whack!” a powerful slap landed on my cheek sending me convulsing across the shrubberies. Twinkling stars and circling moons were spinning around my head. The monster clutched my chin and spat into my gaping mouth before plunging his bulbousness down my throat. Another blow landed on my face when I resisted, sending me tumbling to the floor. Straddling atop, he pulled my head onto his organ. I shut my eyes tightly, praying that this calamity was all but a nightmare.

  Just as he was about to impale me onto his oozing supremacy, I heard the angry screeching of horses. Two flying centaurs had raised their front legs, hoofing at my abductor. Their colossal wings flapped fiercely to balance their towering torsos. They had come to my rescue. Their ferocious walloping had freed me from my snatcher. I puked uncontrollably, too stupefied to witness the onset of the battle between the hulking semi-human monster and my rescuers. His mighty claws wrenched at the flying centaurs, missing them by inches. In retaliation, they hoofed at the beast as if tackling a fireball, sending the bull-man tumbling into the lake. One of my winged rescuers dashed into the splashing water, pinning its head into the chilling aqua until surrender.

  By now, my head had spun out of control. My barfing also did little to reduce the aching soreness over my entire physique, yet from my blurred vision, I spotted Adabiel’s outstretched hands heralding me to him. My guardian angel had again manifested to protect me. I collapsed onto the ground and slipped into unconsciousness.

  2014

  Andy’s Email

  My dear fella, your descriptive writing never fails to remind me of our adventures and misadventures. I’ve no regrets in teaching the ‘Viking’ not to mess with you.

  I couldn’t recall what transpired during our last evening at the commune, but I’m positive recreational drugs were added to the gustatory meal we consumed.

  That night’s hallucinatory experience jaunted me into believing that it was you who was straddled atop me instead of that witch of a woman, Pratnah. I thought I’d kept that hippie at bay. This is how I remembered our final evening in Barcelona…

  Andy’s account:

  …I had no intention of revisiting Strawberry Fields Forever after that Palau de la Música Catalana lavatory incident with Thor, but the four of you (Mary, Jewel, Oscar and you) insisted we spend our last evening dining at the commune. I relented because Alfonso gave me his solemn promise that Thor would not be at the soiree. Little did I suspect that there was more to that evening than a gratifying gesture to send us on our Christmas sojourn to France.

  Did I mention to you that whenever your back was turned, Pratnah would harass me continuously? She used every stratagem she could think of to lure me into having intercourse with her. Although I politely declined her invitation, she would entrap me whenever she got the chance.

  On one instance, she asked me to help her feed the farm animals in the barn. Before I knew it, she had stripped naked and pulled me onto a pile of hay. I told her sternly that I wasn’t into women, but she insisted that once I had her, my homosexual preference would dissipate and I would turn heterosexual.

  Before I could tell her that that would never happen, she started to tear at my pants. I pleaded for her to stop, but she ignored my appeals. I pushed her onto the hay and walked away. Instead of allowing me to leave, she lunged at me. I was seething with anger, but I did not scuffle with her. I had difficulty untangling myself from her grip.

  When I finally managed to free myself, she came at me again. This time around, she provoked me verbally; saying that I wasn’t man enough to challenge her. I knew she would accuse me of harassment. She was up to no good. I disappeared into the main house as quickly as I could.

  Later that day, she apologized. She acted genuinely sorry, so I accepted her apology. That was a scheme to lure us into her and Thor’s sexual web. They went out of their way to entice us back to the commune so they could carry out their contrivance.

  As you were well aware, I was relieved to check into the city’s hotel and escape the weirdoes in the commune. I regretted having to put you in harm’s way.

  There were bruises all over your body when I woke up the next morning. I was devastated to see you in distress. You told me you were hallucinating, but what actually happened by the lake? You never did tell me. Maybe now is the time to reveal all? I’m all ears.

  Andy.

  1967

  The Morning After

  I woke up late the following morning with a splitting headache and a dry mouth. It took me a while to regain my bearing. Although we’d spend the night at the farmhouse, I was glad to be in bed next to my lover. Andy was out like a light when I took a shower. The warm splashing water on my head and aching body felt wonderfully invigorating. I tried to remember what had transpired the evening before, but no answer came to mind until I went downstairs for breakfast. Lukas was the only person in the kitchen.

  He asked, “How are you feeling, Young? Are you okay?”

  “Not too good. I had a rough night,” I replied.

  The Belgian gave me a concerned look before he continued, “Come out to the garden and we’ll have a chat.”

  I followed him out to the garden. As soon as we were comfortably seated, he stared at me without uttering a word. I felt uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze.

  He began, “Do you remember what happened last evening by the lake?”

  “All I remember are delusions of mythical creatures fighting a battle…” I remarked.

  A devious grin appeared on his attractive face. “Do you know why you had these delusions?” he questioned.

  I shrugged my shoulder. “I didn’t feel well. It must have been something I ate,” I replied.

  Before I could finish my speaking
, Lukas declared indifferently, “LSD was added to the brownies you had last evening.”

  This time around, I stared at him with eyes wide open, “What! You’re telling me that Andy and I were drugged without our consent?” I exclaimed.

  He nodded. “No wonder I was sick and had weird hallucinations,” I cried peevishly, “Why didn’t you tell us before now?”

  He looked as if he had committed treason. He did not answer. I reckoned he knew more than he let on. I spoke: “All I remember before the strange visions took hold was that I left the house for a breath of fresh air. Tell me what transpired thereafter?”

  He puffed on his cigarette before responding, “Hans and I were smoking by the lake when we heard you shrieking for help. We didn’t know you were alone by the lake. We followed the sound and stumbled upon you and Thor. He was trawling you into the woods. He was drunk and stoned. You, on the other hand, looked as if you had seen a ghost…”

  Before he could resume, I blazoned, “You and Hans must have been the winged Centaurs in my mirage. Were you hoofing at the Viking?”

  “I think you were hallucinating, boy. We didn’t want to see you hurt by the rogue, so we got into a fight,” he stated. All of a sudden, he changed the subject. He commented, “I’ve no idea what Pratnah sees in him? Be careful of those two; they are up to no good. They’re always scheming and conniving on something or someone.”

  I chirped, “It was you and Hans that rescued me?”

  “It was Oscar that saved your sassy ass from being violated by that brute,” the Belgian grinned sardonically.

  “How did Oscar appear?” I queried curiously.

  “He was looking for you and Andy. Instead, he saw us scrapping the skunk…” he looked supercilious. “If I were you, I’d go thank your saviors for delivering you from that asshole.”

  As I got up to return the tray to the kitchen, he added, “Hey, lad, I’ll be claiming my reward soon.” He gave me a come-hither wink and smiled wickedly.

  Chapter Seven

  The Prophesies

  “With that strange knowing that comes over me, like a clairvoyance, I know that I am sure of myself and my enormous and alarmingly timeless love for you, which will always be.”

  Sylvia Plath

  1967

  At Chateau Rouge

  By the time Baron Pierre’s chauffeur collected Andy and me at the Aubigny-sur-Nere train station, we were exhausted after hours of travelling from Barcelona. We’d thought it would be a fun experience to travel cross-country by rail so we could see the changing scenery en route. It was the late afternoon of December 23rd 1967 when we arrived at Chateau Rouge.

  After a refreshing shower, we proceeded downstairs to join the baron’s guests, who had arrived for the evening’s pre-Christmas festivities. Among the numerous guests were Anastasie, Bryanna, Prince P, Sheik Fahrib, Marquis Mathieu and his wife, Marquise Angélique, Monsieur Dubois (my Quwah private tutor), Monsieur Ludovic, Graf Felix and Sébastien (the baron’s boyfriend).

  Andy and I were introduced to a certain Duke Randolph, whose aristocratic roots stemmed back to the thirteenth-century King Stephen of Hungary and his Polish wife, the Duchess Isabella, a descendant of Princess Yolanda of Poland. Their titled forbears had fled their respective Republics and made France their adopted home.

  During the formal dinner, I was seated next to the flamboyantly dressed Duchess and Monsieur Dubois. Andy sat across the table from me. This sophisticated soiree was a welcome change from our vacation in Spain. My Valet was especially elated to be back in cultivated company. Although he did not reveal his displeasure with the hippie commune, I discerned a sigh of relief the moment we set foot on the train’s first-class compartment. He was his usual cheerful self once again. During our journey, he was particularly attentive to me. Maybe he felt guilty about our final evening at Strawberry Fields Forever. One thing I knew for sure: when our dinner conversation turned to the topic of the occult, my chaperone expressed rapturously, “Young has made known to me that he’s seen visions of angels during moments of transcendent peerlessness.” He turned to me for affirmation.

  The Medium

  It took me a moment before I mustered the courage to speak. I muttered, “Well, err… I’ve encountered angels during times of euphoria…”

  Before I could continue, the Duchess announced, “I’m a medium.” Turning her gaze to me, she said, “The moment I was introduced to this young man, I had a premonition that he is of celestial ascendancy.”

  I stared at her in astonishment, not knowing how to respond to her proclamation. She added, “Would you like me to do a reading?”

  Suddenly, all eyes turned to me, waiting for my reply. My guardian, noticing my discomfort, spoke on my behalf. “I’m sure Young would love to have a session with you, Duchess. I, for one, am interested in what his future holds.”

  “Unfortunately, Andy, my deliberation with the lad is private. There may be matters not suited for the public ear…” she said and paused, “…unless Young agrees to your presence?” The Medium gazed at me for my riposte.

  As much I enjoy my lover’s countenance, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to know about the visions I’d had of our impending separation. I was left speechless again. Monsieur Dubois came to my rescue: “You are right, Duchess, the session you have with Young should be private. I don’t believe any of us have the prerogative to intrude on such a personal conversation.”

  “That is a prudent evaluation, monsieur,” Isabella smiled. “Young man, shall we meet at the recreational den after the Chamber music performance?” she proposed.

  I glanced at my chaperone as the dinner conversation converged to other topics. I detected, for a fleeting moment, the sense of despondency that washed over my lover’s usual light-hearted demeanor. I was disheartened for not agreeing to permit my Valet at the meeting with the clairvoyant. I had a presentiment that the Duchess’s predictions may not be as rosy as I would like my future to be. My previous out-of-body experiences had forewarned me of our heart wrenching separation. I did not wish my lover to witness life without me sooner than necessary. Throughout dinner, foreboding fell over me.

  Soirée Musicales

  As soon as the quartet started playing Beethoven’s melodious Sonata No. 5 in F major, Op. 24 “Spring,” I was at once overwhelmed by reverence and trepidation. The musical sublimely transported me to an otherworldly realm. The mellifluous music piercing through the depths of my inner soul. Yet within this heavenly invocation, tearful consternation wrapped my joyful heart, hurtling me into an abyss of melancholy. Rivers of tears trickled down my youthful cheeks. I had no control over this sudden emotional outpour. I wiped the wetness with the back of my hand.

  Monsieur Dubois, seeing my dysphoria, handed me his handkerchief. Although I was grateful for his considerate gesture, I continued to weep. By the time Camille Saint-Saens’s “Danse Macabre” (Op. 40) finished, I had excused myself from the library. I had to confront my disquietude alone, away from the reverberating pensiveness that had startlingly resonated within the confines of this historical chateau.

  Within the silent conservatory I sat, pondering my future. Unexpectedly, a voice spoke from behind. “Young man, why are you brooding? You look so unhappy.”

  I turned to find a dignified gentleman staring at me. He added, “I am Christian, from Luxembourg. I don’t think we’ve met…” He extended his hand to shake mine. “You are?” he catechized.

  “I am Young,” I stammered as I shook his hand before adding, “I’m fine, sir. I needed a breath of fresh air… and some solitude.” I paused before saying, “The precipitous music induced some thoughts about my life.”

  “Your life?” he exclaimed. “What could you possibly be ruminating about? Your life has barely begun.”

  His gaze never left as he sat down next to me. A thought suddenly flashed through my mind, “If he only knew the experiences I’d been through within the last 15 months, he would have retracted his statement…”

  Jus
t as I was about to speak, he inquired, “How do you know Pierre?”

  “We met beneath the Eiffel Tower,” I replied.

  He remarked, “I’ve met some of Pierre’s boys at various soirees over the years. He has a way with young lads like you.” He obviously thought I was one of the baron’s many conquests.

  I commented, “Andy and I were introduced to the baron by his ex-school friend, Edouard. Do you know Edouard?”

  An incredulous look flashed across his face before he commented, “I’m a friend of Edouard. We attended school together as teenagers.” He paused for a moment before stating, “You are the first of Pierre’s young friends I’ve met who is not his protégé.”

  I do not know what came over me. I asked, “Are you married?”

  He thought my question amusing. He did not answer. I continued probing after a brief silence, “Is she in the library?”

  He let out a hearty laugh before propounding, “Are you into married men?”

  I was startled by his assertion. I thought for a moment before answering, “I like men who are more mature than me.”

  He burst into an appealing laughter that made me chuckle at my own declaration.

  “Do I fit the bill?” he queried smilingly.

  I wasn’t sure if he meant what he’d said or whether he was playfully toying with me, yet I found his witticism provocative.