Johann starts up the engine and we cruise the bay for a while. The water is relatively calm, and the boat handles smoothly. It’s a sleek, 35-foot Cobalt yacht with a luxurious leather interior, made for both speed and comfort. Giovanni and I go to the upper deck for a spell and sit with our drinks, soaking up the sun and taking in the scenery.
“You look good on a boat,” I tell him.
“Thank you, Sir,” he says with a dazzling smile.
“I can’t wait to see you in your new bathing suit.”
“Are you going to tell me to take it off?” He seems to be anticipating it.
“Probably not today. We’re behaving ourselves.”
“Too bad. I’m going to get tan lines.”
“You can remedy that by sunbathing nude on the terrace this week.”
“I’ll add it to my schedule.” His eyes drift across my tight crotch like he knows I’m a hairbreadth away from telling him to get down on his knees and suck me off. I change the subject.
“My brother has a sailboat. He uses it to explore the uninhabited islands around Napoli.”
“He must be adventurous, like you.”
I’ve always associated the word with outdoor pursuits, but I suppose I have had my share of adventure in life and several near-death experiences. Taking on a submissive more than thirty years my junior is certainly an adventure.
“I suppose we are a lot alike.”
“Is he handsome like you?” Giovanni asks.
“Handsomer. And younger too. You interested?”
“Not in the least,” Giovanni says with smile. “One Fortuna man is more than enough for me.”
“Lucky me.”
“Am I enough for you, Sir?” He tilts his head so the sun glints off his raven hair.
“More than enough, sweetheart. Dr. Greyson says if I increase my Viagra intake again, I may go blind.” He laughs and leans against me, angling for a hug, which I grant him. “If you feel differently in the future, I want you to tell me. I don’t want to limit your sexual exploration.”
“I only want to belong to you, Sir, as your sexual disciple. Your belovederomenos.”
“You are beloved, Gio.”
His happiness radiates outward, warming my cold heart. We have a kinship unlike any I’ve ever experienced before. It may simply be the result of our shared history and mentorship by the same man, his grandfather. Giovanni says it’s because we were born only a few days apart in the Zodiac, both Scorpios, but whatever the reason, we understand each other intrinsically. The knife cuts both ways though, the deeper the bond the greater the ability to draw blood.
After an hour or so of cruising, we anchor offshore near the Fire Island Lighthouse and pick up our earlier conversation, this time with Johann included. Rupert shares with us some of his upcoming projects, the transformation of a historical building into a high-end motel. The challenge, as he relays it to us, is how to modernize while still maintaining its historical integrity.
Johann then shares the fundraising results of a recent gala they chaired for the ongoing restoration of the Gould Memorial Library, a cause to which the Aponte family has contributed significant funds. I was unable to attend the gala, but we made a generous contribution, nonetheless. Giovanni, who’s been silent all along, finally pipes up with, “The Gould Library was designed by Stanford White and is meant to pay homage to the Pantheon in Rome. The building is laid out like a Greek cross, and the rotunda is lined with Corinthian columns. Something interesting about the Pantheon itself is that after almost two thousand years, it’s still the world's largest unreinforced concrete dome.”
“That is absolutely true,” Johann says, impressed by his knowledge while Rupert and Simeon both look a little stunned.
“As for Stanford White,” Giovanni continues, “his life’s work was cut short when he was murdered by a millionaire who was upset because Stanford had raped his young wife a few years earlier when she was just sixteen. Stanford was known in certain circles for his sexual predation on young girls, some of them pre-pubescent. But the most ironic thing about his death was that it happened in Madison Square Garden, which is another of his designs. Two shots to the face and one to the shoulder.” Giovanni makes his fingers into the shape of a gun. “He died instantly. I doubt he even had the opportunity to reflect on his life’s work. Or his sins.”
My boy dwells altogether too much on death and rape, but his musings are quite thought-provoking. After a full five seconds of silence, Johann asks, “Are you interested in architecture?”
“I’ve studied the influences of ancient Greek and Roman art on the buildings of New York—arches, columns, Latin inscriptions. Grand Central and the Met both have Greco-Roman inspired facades and at Rockefeller Center, Prometheus holds a flame above the skating rink while Atlas gazes at Fifth Avenue with the weight of the world on his shoulders. What a heavy burden to bear.”
The mention of Fifth Avenue is somewhat telling. It was the location of his assault.
“I could get you an internship with my firm,” Johann offers, “or if you’re more interested in interior design, Rupert’s agency always has entry-level positions for young artists.”
