Indisposed

Gavin had arrived from Geneva earlier in the day, but he wanted a breather and had a lot of paper work to go through before the Cyprus reunification talks he was moderating for the UN began on April 1st. Therefore, he’d booked for the night into a five-star beach resort, the Four Seasons, west of the airport on the southern coast, at Limassol. He would go up to Nicosia, the country’s capital, located in the center of the island, the next day. These negotiations were his big chance to move ahead in the UN Secretariat. He knew it was a test of his ability and diplomatic dexterity. There was little hope of the Greeks and Turks coming to a reunification settlement, although the need for inclusion in the EU was a stronger incentive to reunify now than ever before and the two sides had been inching toward each other ever so imperceptibly over the last decade.

His job--like that of the representatives of the divided communities sharing the island--was to show some progress and to make anyone but his own side responsible for any lack of progress. If he were lucky enough to have been involved in forging any form of greater agreement in the process, his career as an international negotiator would take off.

He’d been told that both the Greeks and the Turks were masters at these turf wars and he’d have to be masterful himself to remain above and balanced in the fray. The talks would start in a week at the old Ledra Palace Hotel, which had gotten locked in the no-man’s land between the Greek and Turkish sectors of the island, where the armed dividing line ran through the center of the capital city of Nicosia, in 1974. This line had been softening for a few years and the movement from one sector to the other was becoming easier.

It had been particularly hard for Gavin Collins to develop his career in the UN Secretariat, as he was known to be actively gay. It was all discreetly handled, but it still was a worry to his superiors and as much a question of what might upset the balance of his objectivity as having holdings in international corporations would be in any international economic negotiations he might be involved in as a moderator. It was just an added issue in his suitability to rise in the Secretariat. In this case, his situation was exacerbated because an up-and-comer Brazilian, Eduardo Alvarez, had been assigned as assistant moderator and already was here and on the job in Nicosia. Gavin had never before seen the younger Eduardo as competition, but it lately had dawned on him that he should be seeing him as competition.

It didn’t mean, by any means, that Gavin was remaining celibate to counter worries about his sexual preferences and practices, however. Just his arrival at the Larnaka airport and the drive west to the Four Seasons resort had been enough to whet his sexual appetite, as all of the Greek men he observed and encountered were alluring hunks. He’d only come from Geneva, but it was snowing in Geneva, and all the men were bundled up and had been for several months. Cyprus was a land of sun, sea, and Speedos. He had checked out the weather on the island and knew that, even though it was only late March, he could swim in the sea and lay out in the sun. But he also could ogle and be ogled--he was sure he was objective in believing he was presentable enough to be ogled--and he had dreams of hooking up with a Greek hunk.

And, speaking of Greek hunks, one rose up--literally, from the Mediterranean Sea in front of him--early that afternoon as he was stretched out on a beach lounge bed, in a Speedo and an unbuttoned and flared cotton shirt and was going through background papers for the coming Cypriot negotiations.

The man was relatively young, at least ten years younger than Gavin’s thirty-eight, with a man’s muscular body, but he was in splendid shape. He was olive skinned, enhanced probably by being tanned by the Mediterranean sun, had black curly hair--not just on his head, but also swirling around a bit on his pecs and flat stomach and on his forearms and thighs--long, curly lashes, without appearing the least bit effeminate; pale blue eyes; and a glorious smile. He was beautiful, but he also was rugged-jawed all man.

As he emerged from the sea in a skimpy black, shiny Speedo, he leaned down, scooped up a beach towel, leather sandals, a couple of magazines, and a pair of sunglasses from the sand, and walked, in confident strides, but like a male model on the catwalk, toward where Gavin was stretched out on his lounge bed.

Gavin’s eyes went from the man’s face to his magnificent torso to his basket, and he sighed. Then he almost hyperventilated when the man picked out the lounge bed next to his to lie on. There were more empty ones than occupied ones fanned out where the grass met the sand across the hotel’s seafront, but the man picked the one next to Gavin’s to stretch out on.

When he was settled on it, on his back, the back of the lounge bed raised, he put his sunglasses on, turned his head to Gavin and smiled, and then lit up a cigarette from a pack, matchbox nestled between cellophane and pack, blew a couple of puffs with a sigh of satisfaction, and opened one of the magazines.

The magazine was a gay male skin magazine, and the man made no attempt to hide that fact.

Was he putting a make on Gavin, the UN diplomat wondered. If so, it was working. Gavin, always discreet when he could be, ran the risk factors over in his mind. He couldn’t discern a single problem. He wasn’t expected in Nicosia until tomorrow. No one had met him at the plane; his itinerary indicated he was arriving tomorrow. And he hadn’t prebooked the hotel. He’d checked the beach resorts out earlier and had come here by rental car from the airport, taking his chances a room would be available, and one was. They’d taken and copied his passport, but that wasn’t something that was going to be reported to the UN High Commission office in Nicosia.

He had a free day on a Greek island--or an island that was half Greek, and he’d heard good things about the Turkish men on the Turkish side of the island as well. He had plans to go over there for a discreet hookup or two, just as he’d had in the back of his mind the possibility of a hookup on this side--today. Well, not in the back of his mind--in the front of his mind. He wouldn’t have taken the trouble to establish a free, out-of-sight, day on the Greek Cypriot coast if he hadn’t planned on spending part of that day being laid by a Greek Cypriot.

“Is that a good magazine?” he asked, deciding there was no time like the moment to check out possibilities.

“A very good magazine, yes,” the man said. His English was good, albeit accented. “I needed to check out something,” he added.

“Checking out if you’re in there?” Gavin asked in a playful tone. “Because you could be,” he added.

“Nice of you to say so, but did you see what kind of magazine this is? Maybe you would not mean what you say if you knew what was in this magazine.”

“Yes, I saw what kind of magazine it is,” Gavin said. “I got the impression you wanted me to see it and wanted to know something about me.”

The man shrugged and smiled, lifting his sunglasses so that Gavin could see the sparkle in his eyes.

“I will agree to that point. My name is Niko,” he said. “Niko Constandinos. I am Greek, from Athens.” He looked at Gavin expectantly.

“I’m Craig Smith. Canadian,” Gavin answered. Of course he wasn’t going to give his real name. He was happy to say he was Canadian, though. That was neutral enough and didn’t have the problem of whether or not the other man liked Americans or Brits. Canadian also, for some reason, helped in establishing preferred position. It was taken as a good possibility of a submissive; just as saying you were Australian left the impression you’d be a dominating top.

“Are you here in Cyprus for business or pleasure--or do you live here?” Niko asked and then immediately filled in those blanks on himself. “I’m down from Athens for both business and pleasure. I am here alone.”

“Me as well,” Gavin answered. “Business . . . and pleasure . . . and alone. It’s my first time on island. You too?”

“Oh, no. I have been here many, many times. I think I could be a guide for the island--and for some of its forbidden pleasures.”

“You think so? I’ve heard that there’s a lot to see and experience. I was hoping to see some castles. I understand there are some crusader castles here and fortresses of earlier and later periods. It’s sort of an interest of mine, since I traveled in China and Japan and found that castles there had similar designs to Western castles without the two cultures having met before--an important difference being that Western castles are designed from the outside in, while Japanese castles are set on the edge of a cliff and designed from the entry back to the cliff drop . . . but, sorry, I’ve rambled on.”

While he’d rambled on, though, he’d noticed that Niko had been running his fingers down his body and hadn’t neglected brushing them across his crotch. The bulge there had become noticeably bulgier.

“I can’t help but notice that you are a very handsome and well-built man,” Niko said. “I love to hear your enthusiasm for places like castles. There is one near here--Kolossi Castle--which is very unusual. It’s just a thick square tower really. But it has history. When Richard the Lionhearted’s betrothed woman was shipwrecked here and captured and imprisoned, it is said by many that it was in Kolossi Castle, and the Knights of Templar occupied the castle at one time. They made wine and also served as the bank for the island’s nobles. I would love to be your guide there--perhaps this afternoon? Now, maybe?”

“I don’t usually think of Richard the Lionhearted as being married,” Gavin said, “but I guess he was.”

“Ah, you think of him as being with men.”

“Yes, I do,” Gavin answered.

“And this being with men--”

“Yes, I do,” Gavin said, and smiled. “As I said, I got the impression that you were checking something by letting me see that magazine.”

“Yes, I was. And you are telling me that I was right to assume?”

“Yes, you were right. And, in case you wonder, I am a submissive. Men cover me. I think that you might be--”

“Yes, I am. I, as you say, cover, men. It is a good fit, no? You say you are here for pleasure as well as business. I specialize in pleasure.”

“Yes, pleasure is important to me--both getting it and giving it.”

“I don’t have a lot of time to meet with a man during this trip to Cyprus,” Niko said, looking at Gavin expectantly. “I am a straightforward man. I offer myself to another man and move on if the offer isn’t completely accepted.”

“I too can be straightforward and am available only for the day. Do you want to fuck me?”

“Yes.” He looked a bit surprised at the bald question, but he responded immediately. “So, would you like to see Kolossi Castle and perhaps a club or two before we return to the hotel and I fuck you? You are staying here, at the Four Seasons, are you not?”

“Yes, I am staying here.” he didn’t ask if Niko was staying here as well, or establish with him what Niko’s business was in coming to Cyprus. In the latter case, he didn’t want to reveal what his own business here was.

They found themselves alone at the top of Kolossi Castle, and Gavin was over standing by a crenellated wall and looking at a slit opening in a punched-out section.

“Is this like the Blarney Stone?” he asked, bending over and looking down through the slit. “Do I kiss something here?”

“Look down. What do you see?” Niko asked.

“The drawbridge. We’re over the entrance to the keep.”

“Yes. That opening is for pouring boiling tar or whatever you have on hand on the heads of anyone trying to force the front gate. But if you want it to be for kissing . . .” He pulled Gavin up and turned him and took his mouth in a long, dueling-tongues kiss.

“I want to fuck you now,” he murmured when they’d come up for air. “I want to drive you somewhere private and fuck you in my automobile. I don’t want to wait for tonight.”

And that’s what he did. They got back in his car and he drove toward the sea from the castle on a sandy road, pulling off behind a sand dune in a small stand of trees. They sucked each other hard in the front seat, one leaning over to the lap of the other, and then they moved to the backseat and Niko sat in the middle of the seat, gripping a now-naked Gavin’s waist between his hands, while, facing him, Gavin straddled the Greek’s lap and rose and fell on his cock until both had ejaculated.

Niko took Gavin to a series of gay clubs in Limassol, where they danced and drank beer, and then to an outdoor restaurant on the waterfront. They had arrived more than an hour before the usual 10:00 p.m. opening for dinner in Cypriot restaurants, but they were served anyway, dining on a meze--a progression of small dishes of Greek food--and drinking Palomino wine.

“We’re the only ones dining in this restaurant,” Gavin observed.

“It’s a popular restaurant. It just hasn’t really opened for supper yet,” Niko answered. And then to forestall the next question, he added. “It won’t open for two more hours, but this is a tourist area so they are always ready to serve those who don’t know the Cypriot way. It’s a pleasure to eat in a Greek restaurant with others--everyone becomes friends. But you say you must leave tomorrow, and we both have said we are here for pleasure. In two hours I want to be in your bed in the hotel with you, with both of us taking our pleasure. Is that not what you want?”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” Gavin answered.

And that’s what transpired. Both of them naked, and having worshipped each other’s bodies, Niko was sitting on the side of the bed again, as he had done in the backseat of the car, and Gavin was saddled in his lap, facing him, legs bent, fists locked behind Niko’s neck, and feet leveraging off the mattress as he rose and fell on Niko’s cock. Before either came, Niko took over the fucking, pressing Gavin to arch back, head on the floor, arms extended in a cruciform position, ankles on Niko’s shoulders, as the Greek pulled the Canadian on and off the cock to a mutual ejaculation. Afterward they lay, stretched out against each other and entwined in each other’s arms and legs embrace, moving and writhing against each other, as Niko entered and pumped Gavin from the front, from the back, and from the sides, each coming again and again and again.

In the morning, when Gavin woke, Niko was gone. It struck the diplomat that, other than a name, which no doubt was as false as the one he’d given the Greek--if, indeed, the man had been Greek--Gavin knew nothing about Niko. Most important, he didn’t know how to get in touch with Niko to continue their glorious fuck.

By the time he was in the Mercedes he’d rented and was driving north toward Nicosia, though, he had decided that that was just as it should be. It was exactly the hookup he’d been looking forward to having the previous day--one of complete anonymity and compartmented duration. There surely would be other opportunities like that while he was in Cyprus. Friends of his had told him he didn’t even need to seek them out in Cyprus. As long as he looked as fit as he did, they said, the hookups would come to him.

* * * *

Gavin was booked in one of the newer Nicosia hotels, the Park Hilton, but the offices assigned to the UN administrators of the Cyprus reunification talks were in the old, once-luxurious, British colonial hotel, the Ledra Palace. The grand old hotel was locked in the Green Zone between the Greek and Turkish sectors at the major checkpoint for those who could go between the zones, primarily diplomats, but increasingly tourists and even Greeks and Turks as the relationship between the two sides improved. Its position in the neutral zone was a factor that had permitted the reunification talks to resume--it was where all meetings between the two ethnic groups had occurred since the 1974 Turkish invasion of the island.

Besides Gavin, the UN delegation included Eduardo Alvarez, his second, a couple of secretaries, three bodyguards, and an equipment technician. Appreciable setup work and coordination with the Greek and Turkish delegations had had to be done, but Eduardo and the staff had come two weeks ahead of the talks and Eduardo was so efficient that nearly all of the preparation work was done before Gavin arrived. Gavin felt like a fifth wheel, but he did what he could to pose as the senior official and chief moderator. That still left him with considerable time to spend at the Park Hilton swimming pool, gathering a tan and trying to be good. It wouldn’t do for him to pursue Greek men while he was on public display in Nicosia.

Sensing that he was restless and knowing there wasn’t much for him to do until the talks actually started on April 1st, Eduardo suggested, “Why don’t you take a few days and go over to the Turkish side? The UN has a guesthouse by Five-Mile Beach to the west of Kyrenia, and I know you have an interest in castles. You could explore the seventh-century Byzantine one in Kyrenia Harbor and the castles built by the crusaders in the eleventh and twelfth centuries along the tops of the Kyrenia Mountains.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Gavin said. Two days checking out Turkish men on the Turkish side of Cyprus, away from the prying eyes of his staff in Nicosia. What could go wrong?

And so he took a UN car, because his rented Mercedes couldn’t go into the Turkish zone, crossed through the checkpoints in Nicosia, and drove the sixty miles north to Kyrenia and then the five miles west to the UN guesthouse at Five-Mile Beach, notable in Cyprus as having been the beachhead for the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974.

After being settled in the strong fence-enclosed UN guest house a few steps up a rocky hillside from the Mediterranean Sea and just west of Five-Mile Beach, Gavin drove to the picturesque harbor down of Kyrenia, or, as the Turks called it, Girni, to explore the harbor castle there that dominated the eastern end of the waterfront. He found the castle fascinating, as it had originally been built in the seventh century by the Byzantines and, in the sixteenth century, the Venetians enclosed it in a thick-walled fortress of later design. In the interim period it had been besieged and conquered by Richard the Lionhearted, whose crusaders built the mountaintop St. Hilarion Castle in the Kyrenia range dominating Kyrenia to the south and overlooking both the town and the mountain pass to the interior of the island and its capital, Nicosia.

It was while he was looking around in the castle, being nearly the only one doing so that afternoon, that Gavin saw the young man he later would call Erol. The first sighting was from the ramparts of the castle across the large training ground to the top of the fortress’ seawall. The young Turkish Cypriot was only seen from a distance, but even at a remove Gavin was struck by the man’s athletic build and his ability to scramble over the stone ruins. He was dark--in both complexion and hair coloring--and, even from here, Gavin could see that he had a ready and dazzling smile. He was strongly built without being noticeably tall. Gavin enjoyed watching the young man--he evidently was at least fifteen years younger than Gavin was--moving around. And Gavin wondered what he was doing in the castle alone. In his observation of Turkish men when he had visited the Turkish mainland, they liked to move in groups. He’d found that they liked to fuck in groups too, which he had enjoyed.

Without giving the young man much more thought--he was too far away for Gavin to do more than develop a sensation of hardening, which he did for quite a few young men--Gavin left the castle and stopped for lunch at the outdoor section of one of the many restaurants that had set tables out directly at the edge of the stone walkway between the buildings arcing around the inner harbor and the water, where an assortment of working and pleasure boats were tied up.

The young man who served him lunch at the harborside café said that his name was Sami. He was lithe and moved like a dancer. He was all smiles and youthful beauty and curly black hair and great body and eagerness to please and touched anyone he was engaging in conversation with animated hands--and obviously was available. Sami couldn’t be away from the restaurant very long, so instead of driving him all the way back to the UN guest house, Gavin checked into the Dome Hotel at the western end of the inner harbor, having no difficulty booking only for two hours that afternoon. As Sami lay on his back on the bed, Gavin rode his cock, slowly moving around to all aspects of the compass that was Sami’s hard body to feel the young man’s cock kissing all angles of his channel walls. Gavin was delighted to find that Sami’s cock was the most formidable aspect of his body, being long and thin and ever erect. The young man just lay there, nervous and in awe in the initial fuck with the older, but movie-star handsome, Western man. Gavin had the sense that there would be more fire in him with added familiarity. For the first time, though, Sami gave his cock over to Gavin’s complete use.

After a brief rest, there was a second fucking. As anticipated, Sami now was more sure of himself, bending Gavin over the bed and fucking him from the rear, egged on to increased physicality when Gavin gasped and begged for more when Sami slapped him on the bare buttocks and cruelly twisted an arm high up onto his shoulder blades while he pounded him with vigor.

“What time do you stop working at the restaurant and do you wish to earn more money?” Gavin asked, as they dressed.

“It’s my uncle’s restaurant. That means I won’t be off until near midnight tonight. I’m sorry, I would have liked to--”

“I will come for you at the restaurant shortly after midnight. Don’t plan on sleeping in your bed tonight.”

When they returned to the restaurant, Gavin almost regretted having made the assignation with Sami, because the other man was there, at a table of the adjacent restaurant, drinking beer and looking around. He watched Gavin intently as Gavin and Sami approached, and he made no effort to hide that he was giving Gavin assessing stares. For his part, Gavin could hardly take his eyes off the young man. He was sultry and sensuous while having a commanding, cocky, and self-confident air about him. He was far more alluring close up than he had been from across the inner-wall ramparts of the harbor castle. He was dark and impossibly handsome and sexy, and, as was obvious by his forearms and the deep-cut V of his muscle T-shirt, hirsute.

His look at Gavin was one of already being inside Gavin and cruelly using him, and it was all Gavin could do not to hyperventilate.

But Gavin had already made a hookup for the night with Sami. Perhaps this man would still be in evidence the next day and would be available. Gavin loved Turkish men. They were universally well equipped and fun loving. And most of them were forceful, dominating, and a bit brutish. There was nothing in that combination that Gavin didn’t like. Sami had not been completely what Gavin melted too, but he was young and virile and showed every sign of being able to hold an erection through the night. Gavin hoped that that was enough to build on.

And then maybe this other man--or a man like him, there being so many possibilities among Turkish men--for the next day, or the day after that.

* * * *

Gavin woke up on his bed in the UN guest house, lying between Cemal and Tamer, each with an arm over his chest and turned to Gavin, each eying the Canadian diplomat like it had been he who awakened the three of them with his snoring. Sami was standing by the bedroom door, pulling his jeans on.

“I’ll see what there is for breakfast,” Sami said. “I could use some help.”

Cemal and Tamer went up on their elbows and looked at each other across Gavin’s bare chest. Tamer said something in Turkish that sounded like he was making a forceful point. He was the bigger of the two young Turks, and Cemal sighed, rolled over to the side of the bed, sat up, and reached down to retrieve his briefs. Gavin watched him stand, pull them on, and pad out of the bedroom. As Cemal hit the door, though, Gavin’s line of sight was obstructed by the beefy and muscle-bound Tamer, who rolled over on top of him, forcing his knees between Gavin’s thighs. Gavin groaned and Tamer grunted as he hovered over Gavin. Gavin arched his back as the Turk’s hard cock split his ass cheeks and moved up into his channel. Tamer reached up, grabbed Gavin’s wrists, and held the Canadian’s arms over Gavin’s head. He looked down into Gavin’s face with a half smile and half sneer, as he started the rhythm of the fuck.

When Gavin had gone back to the Kyrenia harborside restaurant at midnight the previous night, he’d found that Sami’s friends had shown up and wanted Sami to go carousing with them on their motorcycles. Gavin hadn’t formed any alternative plan, though, and hadn’t taken into account how loose young Turkish Cypriot men could be in their entertainment plans.

He had money in abundance, and they were given the choice of spending money or receiving money for essentially the same result in entertainment. They followed him back to the UN guest house on their motorbikes, being duly impressed at being admitted to a compound that all of the locals knew about but none but the gardeners and caretakers got to get into. There they triangulated on Gavin and each other through the night.

And all had a good time.

Sami was doing turns in the kitchen of his uncle’s restaurant in Kyrenia harbor, so breakfast was good--and so plentiful that Gavin would have to go to the market again sometime that day or eat the rest of his meals out during this vacation on the Turkish side of the island.

After breakfast, all four of them went to the shower for a suck and fuck session, with Gavin doing most of the sucking and receiving most of the fucking under the cascading water of the shower. Now clean, the three chattering and laughing Turks took off in a cloud of dust, smoke, and rumbling motorbike engines, leaving Gavin sitting on the floor of the shower, moaning and smiling.

That didn’t stop him from going out on a castle hunt, this time driving up into the Kyrenia range at the pass between Kyrenia and Nicosia, parking in what had once been a jousting field, and then climbing up by foot to the entrance in the Crusader-period St. Hilarion Castle. From there he climbed again in a purposefully twisting stone passage, up, up, and up into the fastness of the castle ruins.

It was here that he got a fleeting glimpse once more of the dark, sultry young Turk he’d seen on the Kyrenia Castle walls and then later in the harborside restaurant area. Seeing each other at some difference with a chasm of ruins between each other, they both stopped, stared, and smiled. The young Turk saluted Gavin and then disappeared behind a stone wall. Gavin worked his way in that direction, but by the time he got there, the young man had vanished.

Despite the workout Gavin had gotten the previous night and that morning, he felt himself go hard and fresh desire build inside him. He continued to look around the castle for another hour, figuring out in his mind how the plan of the structure had originally meant to function, and he almost convinced himself that he was exploring the castle and not trying to find the young man . . . almost.

He had lunch at the Kyrenia harbor, half expecting to see the young Turk there, but he didn’t. Keyed up, slightly disappointed, and more than slightly tired, he drove back to the UN guest house and fell into the local custom of taking an early afternoon nap.

* * * *

The young Turk’s name was Erol--or at least that’s the name he gave to Gavin after the first time he fucked the Canadian diplomat.

After resting, Gavin went to the beach at Five-Mile Beach, which was close to the UN guest house and ran in a horseshoe shape around a cove of the Mediterranean where the water was shallow and the bottom was sandy. He had been lying on his back on a beach towel on the sand after having taken a dip and swim in the sea and was dozing and half listening to the cavorting of a group of young Turkish men, who were playing a form of beach soccer not far from him. He’d spent considerable time ogling the young men as their ranks gathered for the game and was pleasantly aroused and hard as he lay there dreaming about them.

The soccer ball rolled up against his side. He opened his eyes to see the elusive sultry Turkish man--his elusive Turkish man--looking down at him, with the soccer ball in his hands and a smile on his face. They looked at each other for the longest couple of seconds, conveying all that needed to transpire between them--they found each other attractive and arousing, they were sexually interested in each other, the Turk was a power top and Gavin was a submissive bottom, and that they would fuck.

The young Turk--Erol--took the ball then and returned to the game. But after establishing that he was in command and that Gavin, who followed his every movement with his eyes, was at his beck and call, Erol left the game, with many smiles and hand waving, and returned to Gavin’s side. He extended an arm to motion that Gavin should stand and follow him, which Gavin did. They walked down the beach and into the sea and out to where they could stand with the water coming up only to their nipples. They were a good way off of the beach. Erol reached down and tugged on Gavin’s Speedo. Gavin got the hint and pulled his Speedo off. Erol had done the same with his.

“Hang it on your arm so that it doesn’t float away,” the Turk said. “Like I’m doing.”

“You speak English,” Gavin said, as he pushed his forearm through the Speedo and let it hang on his arm. The two were close to each other, facing each other. He gave a little jerk and groan as the Turk grasped their cocks together--both of them already in erection--and frotted them.

“Naturally. My name is Erol.”

“I’m Gavin.”

“Climb my hips with your knees, Gavin, and be open for me when I enter you. I am going to fuck you.”

Gavin hooked his legs on Erol’s hips and locked his fists behind Erol’s neck. Erol grasped Gavin’s waist between his hands and lifted Gavin’s body in the water. Gavin cried out and began to pant as his body was pulled down on the cock. And then up and down, up and down, As Erol fucked him to a mutual ejaculation.

Gavin took Erol back to the UN guest house, and Erol fucked him for two days. On the third day, Gavin’s last before he had to get back to Nicosia to check up on whether Eduardo and his staff had made the talks ready for Gavin to conduct, Gavin woke up alone in the bed. Erol was gone. Gavin hadn’t told him he had to return to the Greek side that day. The best he could do was pin a note to the outside gate to the UN guest house compound. He couldn’t give a Turk who didn’t work there free access to the compound.

As he drove the eighty miles back to Nicosia he realized that all he had was a name--and that might not be a real one. He had given Erol his real first name, but he hadn’t given him his last name or told him where he came from or why he was able to use the UN guest house on the Turkish side. He was lost to Erol sexually. He would just have to try to find him again the next time he came over to the Turkish side.

* * * *

“I think it would set the right tone if you entered the Treaty Room last,” Eduardo said on the morning of April 1st as the delegations were gathering for the start of yet another attempt at Cyprus reunification talks. The Treaty Room, once the VIP parlor for the Ledra Palace Hotel, containing an imposing Tudor-style stone fireplace with the coat of Richard the Lionhearted on it, had been the venue for all talks on Greek and Turkish Cypriot differences through history. Indeed, it was where the British had drawn the Green Line that separated the Greek and Turkish sectors of the island, called that because a green grease pencil had been used to draw the line on the map. It had also been the venue of several border demarcation negotiations in the greater Middle East world. “Let me get the delegations in and settled at the table first.”

Gavin tersely nodded. He’d left so much of the work to Eduardo, who seemed to know what he was doing and who had established rapport with all sides--not just the separate Greek and Turkish Cypriot contingents but also the observers that Greece, Turkey, the Americans, and the British had sent.

Left alone in his office while Eduardo was getting the meeting set up, he noticed for the first time the red folder laying on the blotter in the center of his desk. He flipped the folder open and blanched. There were two sets of photos, one was of Niko Constandinos fucking him in his hotel room at the Four Seasons Hotel outside of Limassol the day he’d arrived on the island. The other set was of Erol fucking him at the UN guest house near Five-Mile Beach on the Turkish side. He slammed the folder shut in fear and shock.

“Mr. Alvarez says they are ready for you to make your entrance,” one of the staff secretaries called to him from the corridor. Still disconcerted, he opened the center drawer and slipped the folder inside. He had no idea what it meant or what he could or should do about it.

Entering the Treaty Room, Gavin received his second and third shocks. There standing in the second row of the Greek delegation, in a suit, stood Niko Constandinos. Not being able to look the  man in the eye, Gavin swiveled his face toward the Turkish delegation, only to spy Erol, in a suit, standing in the ranks of the Turkish delegation.

Gavin knew he was going to be sick. Rather than taking his position in the room, where Eduardo currently was standing, he muttered, “Excuse me, I’m sorry,” and turned and fled the room. He stumbled to the nearby men’s room and vomited in a toilet.

Eduardo entered the men’s room. “Are you all right, Gavin?” he asked solicitously. “Are you ill?”

“No, no . . . I’ll--”

“You look ghastly, sir. You are ill, aren’t you? Here, I’ll go call up the chauffeur and we’ll get you back to your hotel right away. You rest. I’ll manage somehow here without you until you feel better.”

Eduardo wouldn’t listen to all of Gavin’s protestations that he’d be fine, and Gavin’s response grew weaker and weaker as he realized that in some greater dimension he wouldn’t be fine. Both delegations out there seemed to have thought they had compromised him in their favor. How could he possibly continue as moderator of these talks? Eduardo was being so masterful with this crisis and Gavin, after all, was a submissive. In no time he was in the UN staff car and being motored back to the Park Hilton Hotel.

As soon as he left, Eduardo went back to the Treaty Room. “I’m sorry, gentlemen and ladies, Mr. Collins is indisposed. We will proceed, however. I will do what I can to step in and manage without him. We will take a short break now and then get started.”

He motioned to two men in the room, and the Greek who had given Gavin the name of Niko Constandinos but who, actually, was one of the Greek checkpoint guards here at the Ledra Palace border crossing, and the Turk who had given Gavin the name of Erol but who, actually worked in the kitchen here at the Ledra Palace joined Eduardo outside of the Treaty Room to receive their packets of money from him and to return to their respective jobs.

Eduardo paused for moment to settle himself and to wipe the self-satisfied smile off his face and replace it with one of concern, competence, and confidence. He then returned to the Treaty Room to take up the moderator’s position that he had trained hard to be able to handle and to manage “somehow” without the man, Gavin Collins, who he had seen as competition to upper administrative posts in the UN Secretariat.