Renaissancing 1

 I found my way there, on a Monday night, after a long and tedious day at work that included too much time spent on my cell phone. It had been a while since I had viewed a movie there and found it somewhat surprising that the price of had gone up so much. There was quite a large crowd, most likely because of the buzz the movie was receiving. I usually sat near the exit doors, where hardly anyone sat, but since the crowd was overflowing, I had company to all sides; however, my row was still half-empty on my side of it and I found myself watching the arrivals to see who would sit next to me.

I waved to a woman, Bridget, that I knew from the museum; she worked there and had once scolded me for passing by a painting she said was too important to not appreciate. We had been friendly since then and I always looked forward to chatting with her on my visits. She sat down a couple of rows ahead of me with a male companion, who may or may not have been her husband.

An older man, with gray hair, walked into my row with four young guys in tow. The man, and the first three companions went right by me without acknowledging me, but the last of the group stopped right in front of me and turned so I could get a nice view of his ass. He was beyond fit, and had a boisterous quality to him that practically demanded attention. His ass was so close to my face that I wanted to reach out and greet it/him. It was a fabulous display of the male form, and I wanted to know more of it.

“Don’t leave me behind,” he said, shaking his butt in my face, as he spoke.

I had not seen his face yet, but I was hopeful I would see it, because the house lights were still on. He finally found his way to his group and sat down three seats from me and as he did so, the lights went down. I saw a flash of his profile, but really only noticed that he had dark hair and smooth skin; there was nothing else revealed.

The movie started and the crowd was uproarious, cheering at all the moments meant to elicit that type of response from them. It took me a short while to get into the flow of the movie, because I was thinking about that fresh ass in my face and his lively attitude.

The fit, butt guy was the only one of his group that was still talking after the movie had begun, causing one of his companions to plead with him to quiet down. After a few more comments, some sounding inappropriate, he finally relented and refrained from speaking for a surprising amount of time

Close to half-way through the film, the rambunctious one got up and walked past me again. It felt like he purposefully banged into me, to fake falling. I reached out and ended up touching his hard stomach with my right hand that lingered a bit too long on his belly. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I could clearly see that he had Asian features. He had a so cool and calm look about him that unnerved me some. He had other ineffable qualities that did not mesh with the tease he initially came off as. I reluctantly moved my hand away from him.

“Sorry”, I said, apologizing for having touched his body for so long.

“Mmhmm,” he said and quickly continued on his way.

I was suddenly not that interested in what was going on with the movie, having made contact with him. I was anticipating his return. 

He came back a little later, having snuck in some candy and possibly a beverage. His leg gently bumped into mine as he went by. As soon as he sat down, he started arguing with his friends, who tried to silence him yet again. In unison, they finally told him to go sit somewhere else. I was hoping he would come and sit next to me and when he did, I experienced a primal blossoming inside of me that I had never felt.

“Sorry. They’re being difficult,” he whispered in a softer tone than he had used with his group, “I hope you don’t mind me sitting next to you.”

“Go right ahead,” I said.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

At this point, I felt anxious, because the tease of earlier was sitting next to me and was giving off a palatable vibe. The film was now a veritable nuisance. I listened to the dialogue; saw actors move in and out of frame, but that was it. I was trying my hardest to focus on the man sitting next to me, to see if he was making any noises or fidgeting in his seat. As if of our hands had become magnetized, seeking out their opposite poles, they pulled together. He had a soft hand with long and slender fingers. I could see peripherally that he had turned to look at me. I knew that if I returned the gesture, we would be fast kissing.

As someone was making a loud declaration on the screen, two occupied seats joined in a kiss that seemed to move beyond the moment. Much like his seemingly untamed personality, his lips were aggressive and moved a lot. A sharp tongue fired the first salvo into my mouth, as if asking to let him have safe passage. His breath smelled of the candy that he had snuck into the theater.

The turn forced us to switch the hands we were holding; another soft hand quickly joined with mine.

One of his companions shouted over to him that he had made short work of locking me up in a kiss, “that was quick,” the voice said.

“You’re such a slut,” another voice said.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” said the lips I was kissing.

I returned volley with my tongue; at first he put up a defense, but he relented and let me find room in his oral space. Our tongues became involved in a competitive back and forth; our hands trying to squeeze harder, in a complex back and forth that had erupted from happenstance.

Both our eyes were open, and we were giving each other furtive stares. I wanted to say something, to get his reaction and to see if he was trusting of the moment and of me. I must have conveyed something to that effect, because he suddenly closed his eyes, and I did the same.

There was a moment when it was too comfortable, too pleasurable, and it was at this point that I realized the movie had to end sooner or later. I was anxious about the lights coming on and us being front and center for his friends, or for the rest of the crowd, including the docent, from the museum. My enthusiasm started to wane a bit, and he spotted that.

“Are you afraid of the lights coming on?” he said, as he stopped kissing me.

“Yes. Are you afraid?” I said.

“Yes. I go to university right here in the city. I am sure I will be outed some day, just don’t… aren’t ready for that yet. “

“I kinda feel the same.”

“We should stop.”

As the magnetic thread that had brought us together lost its power, we now turned to the screen and pretended that we knew what was going on in the movie; however, our hands would not let it be done, and they searched each other out again. This time, the feeling was one of familiarity and acceptance.

“I want to see you again,” I said.

“Yes, I am curious about that myself,” he said.

We exchanged our phone numbers as if we were trading valuable information that was not available to just anybody.

The closing credits were my cue to leave, but I did not want to say goodbye to him, so I just left quickly. The late summer night felt as though it were an accomplice, encouraging and willful. I breathed in as much of the air as I could. Stars were seemingly unaligned, but trying to find their way.

When I realized that we had not told each other our names, it felt so perfect, so mysterious to not have done so. What surprises would our reunion bring? It did not seem possible that we would not see each other again.

_____

My intention was to call him some time after work and to feel him out about going out on a date. I sat in the office, at my desk, not doing any work, really postponing the potential for disappointment. I had restarted the same report twice and was about to begin it again, when I decided to take a break. While I went to get something to drink, my phone started to vibrate; it was his number.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hello,” he said in a formal tone.

“Nice to hear from you.”

“Is this a good time.”

“I would make time if I had to, but this is perfect.”

“Good.”

We spoke for what seemed too short a time, but made plans on seeing each other for lunch the following day, at an outdoor cafe that was located closer to my work. I thought he was very considerate for suggesting a restaurant that would allow me to get back in time. We were both in the downtown area during the day; he went to school and lived near campus, and I worked in the area, but lived across town.

I was worried that I was maybe talking to one of the friends, because he was not being friendly at all; everything he said was straight forward.

I knew I would spend the time between our meeting obsessing about how it would go. I tried to block out any negative thoughts. My biggest concern revolved around the fact that he was slightly different from my first interaction with him. Not that he was drastically different, but his words seemed to have a deeper resonance, and I did not know what I was dealing with. Was he acting or playing a role with his group? The kisses and tongue play that we had shared were incredible and I definitely needed more of that from him.

_____

I nervously dressed for work, because I was very conscious of what my appearance was going to be that day, such as what I smelled like and how my hair would be combed. I looked in the mirror and tried to exude a tranquil aura, but the nervous feelings were all too real, yet I did not want to hinder the flow of things by appearing unsophisticated.

Our lunch-date was definitely a pressure moment that I would gladly take. My shoulders felt as though they needed to be unwound and massaged back to their normal position.

By the time I arrived at work, I had already processed everything I thought would happen, from having an amazing time, to the utter disappointment of what we had shared, now being unattainable in the light of day. Thoughts of the latter outcome were definitely winning throughout the day. I had tried to be as confident as possible, but his having developed an inscrutable persona on the phone, along with his placement on the desirability scale, was winning out and making me feel like I did not have a chance with him.

When I finally left for lunch, I was so disillusioned and felt unfit to be with anybody. I dragged myself to my car and wanted to drive someplace else and reason with myself that I had gotten lost in another part of town. I pressed forward, though.

_____

He was wearing navy blue slacks and had on a yellow shirt, black dress shoes and a light blue tie. He was sitting with his legs crossed and was jotting down some notes. He either sensed me coming, or had been keeping an eye out for me, because he turned to look at me as I came into range. When our eyes met, all the doubt of earlier had faded, and I now was just happy that I was going to be meeting up with him.

As I got closer to his table, he stood to greet me. He looked even fitter with his shirt tucked in and with a belt keeping everything orderly. He offered his hand for a formal handshake; a hand he had given as a lover would, a few nights before. His eyes were sober and his words measured, but there was something subtly accessible about him that allayed most of my trepidation.

“My name is Shan, by the way,” he said.

“I’m Nick,” I said.

With that quick introduction, we were sitting down and easing into what seemed a conversation from some other time that had never ended. I picked up just a hint of an accent that I had obtusely missed from our previous talks. Shan crossed his legs again; he looked polished and very erudite in his smart outfit. 

“Do you always dress like this for school?” I asked.

“No. I wanted to…I dressed like this for today, here,” he said, somewhat clumsily.

I tried not to think of my somewhat unkempt look. I doubtlessly had tried my best to look sharp, but ended up feeling that my clothes were a bit too loose, and I wanted to check my hair.

“Surprised to see you without your entourage,” I said, jokingly.

“They weren’t my entourage,” he said, smiling.

I remembered the older man who led them as if he was their guru, and most likely Shan was the rebel among them. I was hoping that was the case.

We ordered a light lunch; we really did not have that much time.

“The other night,” I started.

“Was intense,” he finished.

“That is… it was that and more.”

“Heard the movie was not that good. We were better off.”

“Are your friends mad at you? There seemed to be… “

“I really only know one of the group. I actually am not so much like the guy that night that was being loud and unruly. I really don’t know how that comes out; that is usually a latent part of my personality. Something, a flip side that comes out under certain circumstances or things being… I don’t want to delve into in anymore.”

“So then what we…what we experienced?”

“That made the night seem like an outlier for me, but in the best way possible. My friend, Bo, said that we looked good together.”

“And the older man?”

“I’d rather not talk about them anymore. Like I said, I only know one of them, Bo.”

“That is fine with me.”

“I do need to ask you if it is a problem that I am not the loud person that you first saw. Some people have been attracted to that and have been made to feel deceived when I prove to be something other than that.”

“You weren’t being loud when we were kissing.”

“That would have been too over-the-top.”

The sun shone bright and accentuated the brightness of his yellow shirt. Shan was like no other at the cafe, or moving past us on foot or car.

Our food arrived and we lazily let it sit there; we only took small sips of our drinks, looking at each other and our surroundings, while we tried to figure each other out. I felt it a shame that I had not known him for longer.

My job limited how much we could linger over lunch; he also had matters that he needed to attend to.

“What now?” I said.

“This is now,” he said, reassuringly.

“That sounds good to me.”

“I would have to agree.”

We parted positively and were motivated to see each other again, either at the start of the weekend or at the end of it. I went back to work and thought about how Shan had come over to a boarding school for high school and had never gone back to China. His father was well off back home and thought it best for him to finish his education, before going back home to visit or live. I felt there was certainly a void that he carried and hid to an almost heroic level; a morose manner that quietly protested, but went ahead in spite of any well deserved protestations.

I needed more of Shan, if only to see visages of his persona in the midst of simultaneously struggling with and conquering what presented itself to him. It felt raw to me, when I realized that I may have been part of what he had conquered.

_____

We had decided to meet at the museum on a Friday night; there was a string concert in one of the halls that he recommended. All day long I kept adjusting my hair to the point of insanity. I made sure that my clothes fit properly, or were at least tucked into place and unwrinkled. I was preoccupied with delivering myself to Shan in the best light possible for our first official date.

Some time in the afternoon, he sent a text that said he was going to be early; it made me anxious to think that he was going to be there, getting a head start on our date, with the possibility of others spotting his uniqueness and stealing him/it away from me. I viewed the museum as a sort of chaperon, with all its grandeur an artistry; a valuable ally to walk hand in hand with.

Towards the end of the day I noticed that my boss was looking for some people to go for drinks after work; he could be very insistent and most likely would not take no for an a answer, as he enjoyed fostering camaraderie among his staff. I saw him heading in my direction, but I remained calm, while I made it seem like I was calling out to someone in another room. By quickly taking the stairs, I was able to evade him and the office for the rest of the weekend. 

The drive to the museum was rather short; all I could think about was that we might continue our kiss from before and that we might hold hands; his long fingers intertwined with mine, in a show of oneness. 

_____

There was a nice crowd streaming into the museum for a night of music. There was also a new exhibition that made it an event for denizens of the city and fans of art. I was a little concerned that I would not be able to spot him among strange and less desirable faces, but that proved to not be a problem; he made sure that he pretty much stood alone. He looked like a finished product in his choice clothing and in his innate style. Shan had on dark, tight pants and wore a brown sports coat over a light blue dress shirt; he wore no tie, and he had on dress shoes. His silhouette was giving off a signal that singled me out. Shan turned his head when I was still about one-hundred feet away and made eye-contact with me. There was no smile or hello, but a subtle acknowledgment that made me feel like I had known him for longer than a week or so.

The music did not seen obtrusive, as it was enveloped by the large hall that had its walls covered with murals. I could listen to conversations, and I could hear myself think. We shared as close a greeting without touching each other as possible. He did not seem as serious as he had over lunch. This was more of a melding of the two times I had seen him prior. A middle ground of sorts.

“This ensemble has been going strong since I got here. The violin player was bouncing up and down earlier. I am surprised she was able to settle down and remain in same position for some time,” he said.

“I’ve always liked passing through here when I visit the museum. It has become a ritual to do so,” I said.

“I try not to miss it either. The murals are so evocative.”

We lingered a bit longer. When people left the concert, they would be replaced by others who were more than willing to take their spots. This continued for a while. As the musicians were taking a break, we sort of drifted out of the area and headed into the museum proper. The exhibit was far too packed to try to see comfortably; instead, we headed for the upper floors.

There were fewer people on the second floor; it felt as though we were finding some well needed privacy. We stood before a large painting by a Renaissance artist with a colorful biography. I was mesmerized by the authentic representation of the faces. Shan was looking at me differently, almost as if I were his prey, and he was getting ready to pounce on me. With no one around, he got close to my face and started kissing me with no delay. The setting seemed wrong; the brightness of the museum interior, contrasted with the darkness of the outside, made me feel as if I/we were on display to persons inside or outside the building.

I had passed the painting so many times and had never imagined myself kissing anyone in front of it. A wave of clarity came over me, and I finally grasped that the painting was special, and I needed to further study it. I was reverential, now that I was able to decipher some of its subtle hints at homosexuality. The faces varied; some were smiling and others forever in serious contemplation. The men in the painting were seemingly congratulating us and encouraging us to continue on.

Shan broke the kiss first. I could tell by his demeanor that someone had been watching us and had placed us in the cross hairs of public domain. The woman I knew from the museum, Bridget, was down a long corridor and was looking right at us in an almost reflective way. Was she wondering if a painting had just come to life?