TRUE CONFESSIONS - 23
By Mighty Mouth
I swear to you, dear reader, that everything I say is true and without exaggeration. I scheduled my 2006 birthday party to coincide with Carnaval in São Paulo. While weak compared with Rio, there is a very big samba parade every year in São Paulo. I rented a box holding ten people that gave us a great view of the event. I told no one that I had paid R$13,000 (US$6,000) for one night’s entertainment. The parades last all night, beginning around 11 p.m., lasting till 8 a.m. the next morning. Included in this price are all the beer, water, and sodas one can drink, plus dinner and breakfast. I took some champagne and wines for those who wanted an alternative.
Dinner was served in courses, after each samba group, known as "school" had passed. The repast stretched to at least three hours. We were served by two young waiters. One of them was extremely helpful and full of smiles the entire night. Knowing I was in charge of the group, he asked me several times if I were satisfied with the level of service. Of course I was. We decided not to stay until the bitter end, so we left at dawn, before breakfast was served.
Before leaving, I told Reynaldo, one of my guests, that I was much taken with the kid. He said, "Give him your phone number." I replied that I didn’t know how to appropriately do that without arousing suspicion. Then, always quick on the uptake, I hatched a plan. I gave him a fifty
Real note, thanked him for his service, and told him what a terrific waiter I thought he was. He beamed. I told him that I planned to open a restaurant and that I would like to consider hiring him. I didn’t have any thing to write on, so he handed me a paper napkin and I noted my phone number. I explained that I was shortly to leave for the U. S. and would only return six months later, giving him the date of my return. I then asked him how old he was, he said twenty-one. I replied that I thought he was at least twenty-five, since he seemed so mature. He said his name was Willi Santana.
I expected that he would discard the napkin as soon as I left. Six months later, when I returned to São Paulo in October, 2006, he phoned me two days after my arrival. Like my experience with Scotti many years earlier, he kept my number for six months. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t rush to set up an appointment. I was conflicted. I had no plan to open a restaurant, although for years I had been a closet restaurateur. I thought to myself, AHow can I deceive this innocent boy like this? He thinks I am serious.@ He phoned every week or so, but I continued to invent excuses for not seeing him, stating that I was very busy. I kept putting him off from October until early December. He persisted, and finally I relented.
I invited him to lunch at Galeto’s, a restaurant with great barbeque chicken, four blocks from my apartment. His skin was a bit darker than I had remembered, but within my threshold of acceptance. He also had bigger muscles, since he had joined a gym. I had to explain up front that the restaurant was way in the future. But I mentioned that I needed an assistant to help me with contacts and to resolve problems, and that I had no one at the moment. That is because André Fernandes, discussed in the previous installment, had abandoned me. I offered Willi three afternoons per week, and he accepted. I desperately needed someone to replace André, but mainly to pal around with.
I soon learned that he was very intelligent and capable, but not an intellectual. The situation was strictly business. He worked for me until I had to leave São Paulo in April, 2007 to spend my required six months in the U. S. I phoned him frequently from Miami Beach, where I spent the summer. I returned in October, with my permanent Brazilian residency. Since I could stay in Brazil the entire year, I offered him a five-day work week, from noon to six p.m. He accepted, and quit his job with the caterer where he had worked when he served us at Carnaval, a year and a half earlier.
His muscles had expanded further, and he was a daily temptation. Finally, I told him I was gay and I found him very sexy. He either feigned surprise or was genuine when he said, "I didn’t suspect that." Thus, I added a new dimension to our relationship. Sex was boring at first, but he soon fell into the rhythm and at times surprised me by taking off his clothes, showing an erection and inviting me to indulge.
He was a cutup and a clown, like me. He can invent witticisms on the spot, a quality he shares with André. When Willi turned twenty-four in 2008, he could not tell people his age. No Brazilian guy likes to admit that they are 24 years old. Brazilians have a circuitous reasoning process about many things. In Brazil there is an illegal lottery called Jogo do Bicho (game of the animals). It’s a distant cousin of betting the numbers in the US. A much simplified explanation is as follows: there are sheets of paper with pictures of twenty-five animals, including a lion, goat, monkey, and a deer. One can bet on one of the animals. If that animal is the winner of the day, the person gets a payoff. The deer is number twenty-four on the list. In Brazilian Portuguese, the word for deer is viado, which also means faggot. Everyone knows the significance of the number twenty-four, thus no self-respecting Brazilian male can admit that he is twenty-four.
When I made contact with André again in late 2008, he got to meet Willi. The two hit it off very well, and André often lunched with us. I gave myself the nickname of Dona Flor e seus dois maridos (Mrs. Flower and her two husbands), after the famous Jorge Amado novel and subsequent film. They both crack up when I say that.
I digress to talk about Rosa, since she is part of this episode. I met her when she was the broker who sold me my current apartment. She had worked her way through college as a female escort, and is bi. She is one of the dizziest people I ever met. She has a circle of dike friends, one of whom has a horse face. No kidding.
Rosa is just as mischievous as André or Willi. A few years back my Christmas present to her was a male hustler with the biggest package I could find on a male prostitute web site. She enjoyed her present. I showed her a new apartment that I bought in the old center of São Paulo. She, Willi, and I had lunch in the area. It is sin city, day and night. It has transvestites, male hustlers, female prostitutes, with hundreds of bars, gay and straight, as well as sex theaters, gay and straight.
After lunch we had forty-five minutes to spare before my appointment in the apartment. On the way to our destination, we passed a theater with live straight sex shows. Rosa said, "We have time to kill, let’s go in."
I replied, "No way!" Willi urged me on with "Oh, come on, let’s do it." I gave in. When we got to the ticket booth, the guard, seeing a dignified and well-dressed middle-aged lady, said, "Madam, I don’t think this show is for you." Rosa answered, "No, it’s OK, we want to educate our son." We easily pass for a family. Rosa was sixty, and they say I looked like sixty-five Willi was twenty-five at the time I wrote this originally. He is now 31.
This was a first for me. I had never seen a live sex show, gay or straight. The audience was only men, with the lights turned way up, for obvious reasons. The couple on the stage, totally nude, did every possible sexual permutation. After about thirty minutes, we decided we had seen enough. Rosa said, "I’m gonna go home and play with my toys." As we left the theater, I said to the guard, "Great family entertainment." He looked at me in disbelief.
Willi is the most fantastic person I ever befriended. He is very handsome, and both men and women look at him on the street with lust. He continues working out, and his body is perfect. Additionally, he is intelligent, and always in a pleasant mood. We stopped having sex some time back, because he said that he really doesn’t like sex with men. I really don’t believe this, because when I first met him, he admitted to having visited gay bars. Conclusion: he is still in the closet. He decided to marry, and asked me to be his best man. Rosa was the maid/matron of honor. Curiously, he married a woman considerably older than he, and she has a son who is now 20 years old. I believe that it is just a marriage of convenience.
In order to bind him to me, I have written him into my will. He will inherit two of my apartments, and 20% of the balance of my estate. I think he got extraordinarily lucky in life. He should never have any financial worries.
If anyone wants to read a free copy of my book, “Memoirs of a Gay Rights Maverick,” I’ll send it to you as an email attachment. Advise me via email: [email protected]
I’ll also provide a pic of me and Willie to those who ask for it via email.