Borderline

@2003

Editor Michael Gouda

INTRO

Cool waves crashed over his head as he dived into the river. He opened his eyes under water and thought about the Misty Rose, the miraculous herb he nearly died trying to obtain. It was good to have washed away the dirt and sweat of his long journey. His relief though was only momentary - too strong were the fears that urged him home. The waves of the Euphrates spat him to the shore, where he knew his clothes lay safe along with his most important possession: the Misty Rose, a simple herb though important enough to save a life.

No human being had crossed his path in the deserted loneliness that bordered his home land. Naked and with dripping hair, he approached the place where he'd shed his clothes, dropping them with the bundle holding the herb. The clothes were still there, as well the small, grey bag, but his instincts flashed a warning. He stood petrified as water ran from his hair into his eyes. He blinked away the sting from the water and there lay an empty snake's skin , dry and torn.

Upon the bag slithered a fat, brown snake covered with a brilliant yellow pattern, shining in the sun; blood-red eyes watching him. Her split tongue slid over the Misty Rose, then her mouth opened and she started to swallow the hard-fought for herb.

His shock dissolved and with a despairing cry he jumped upon the creature, ready to kill her if need be to stop her from consuming the plant or . . . ready to be killed himself if that was the will of the gods. Without the herb his long journey would have been in vain. As he wrestled with the serpent, it grew under his hands, then snapped for his fingers, sinking her powerful and sharp, poisoned teeth deeply into his palm. Yet, he didn't loose grip of the herb. The snake again tried to swallow the herb as his own body shuddered in spasm. The poison had reached his blood system, his heart pumped it through his body yet his grip remained fierce on the Misty Rose. There was a hollow, crashing sound as the snake's mouth clapped shut with only part of its prize -- a small part of the Misty Rose lay in his hand. Quickly he squeezed it into his fist and stared at the creature as it continued to grow. Her red eyes gleamed like bloody garnets and her tiny nostrils swelled as she started to hiss.

"Nobody sets his foot on my land, human ruler," she said. "You have walked my land when I do not know your name. But..." she said as she moved her mighty body over the sand and bare stones dangerously near him again, her look full of deceit, "I need to thank you for now I am the Queen over all my race. I can change my skin and grow. I am immortal."

The air was filled with a silent blow. A blow without echo. A golden abyss opened in the snake's eyes; deep and endless. He feared the light shining from her fathomless orbs would burn him and a shudder ran through his body. Ishtar was here, the god of love and fertility, occupying the snake's body. "You can not win," the divine voice drowned in his ears. "I will follow you wherever you go."

The hiss grew to a storm in his ears. Full of panic he took his clothes and bag and ran upstream, fist clenching the remaining portion of herb as Ishtar's strange, hissing laughter filled his head. "Go, human king," it hissed. "But know your journey was in vain."

*********************************

It was one of those Autumn-nights. The leaves fell down with a soft rustle as they loosened themselves from the branches. I can hear them fall, just like I can see things other humans can't -- many things, through all the ages. It has been a long journey for me and my companions; my clique, my band.

Clique. What an odd name to use for me, for us. When I had been born it seemed only natural to fraternize with other men. Later they called us sodomites and other less pleasant things. I must say, I am delighted to have reached this stage of time and this place in the world where to fraternize with my own gender is not worth any more of a mention than that given to a falling sack of wheat. I had experienced the start of yet another millennia, the second after the new chronology. And I wondered if it would bring any good. Considering the past - those gone millennia - had brought only mishap and wars, killing and unbelievable cruelty. Inventions, actually made to please our life, had turned against humankind. In the one hundred years of capitalizing, economizing and industrializing we have managed to enter the path of destruction. All within a short one hundred years ñ truly a blink of an eye for me.

I slowed my pace and opened my senses . . . the entertainment district! Lights turned the nights to days. People crowded the streets. Noise filled the air. There was the reverberating drums of music . . . manly laughter . . . bodies hardly hidden behind corners, offering and waiting, finding relief for a minute and searching on for more. Dates were set up, disappointment followed. All things combined, there was too much excitement and diversion to hold on a moment, to be faithful, to love.

We have something magical, my group and I. I know this. It is like a blurred glow surrounding us. People hesitate, recognize a difference and it unsettles them, but they don't know why. It is the ancient magic that still works its charms.

Romeo next to me turned his eyes upward, seeing a round neon-light that advertised a dance-hall. My Italian comrade conjured a hunter's grin on his face. He smelled men.

"That's it." Blue eyes fixed on me, then Leopold grabbed Romeo's waist and pulled him along. Leopold had taken over the work as guide. It was his town - Vienna - in a country called Austria in the heart of Europe. I watched his black, rustling overcoat blowing in the cool wind. He had bound back his hair into a Mozart-plait - as he named it - and left the job to me to remember all about this musician. I had learnt his language quickly; one of the fortunes of the kind of being I am. I learn fast.

I went back in my memory to two hundred and more years ago, when the ballrooms of Vienna were famous. Hadn't I met this small young man with the big head and lace-covered breast at the premiere of his first Opera? Yes. It was a complete flop for him, but I had listened to the floating melodies with great affection. The memory caused a shiver. It is not so easy to take when the winds of millenniums touch me. Ahh . . . to master all my memories! They are like a hurricane in my mind at times, some are bright, some pale and on the brink of vanishing. Pictures passed my inner eyes; pictures in pale, powdery colours; yellowed, dusty, like the first Daguerreotypes. But one memory is clear and vivid as ever. In my dreams I still see him: my friend, my brother, my lover, my comrade.

My mate.

The wind tugged at my black cloak -- an old-fashioned tribute to ancient times. I know I look stunning enough to draw the attention of others. It makes it easier, the search that is. One of the my most peculiar features are my dreams. Back in Mesopotamia when I was a king I had dreamt of him, coming from the steppe into the town to challenge me. Those dreams never left me, no matter in which places I searched. Some dreams were useful; most of them were false. They led me to corners of the earth I'd have been better never to have known.

Sometimes I thought to have found him, but a look in the eyes of the man told me I was wrong again. And my search would continue. Sometimes I stayed with the man to brighten my days, because he reminded me of him. But how long should I stay? To see this surrogate grow old while I remained young?

I try to find him at dance halls that serve the longing to find a mate to sweeten the night. . . twitching, winding, steeled bodies. . . muscles beneath smooth shaven, shiny skin. . . beats and flickering light, impudent, challenging eyes. From time to time eyes would meet mine, but they were not the one's I sought. I wait still for that ultimate prize for which I seek endlessly. I had dreamt about it; eyes, meeting in darkness beyond all barriers, like two beams of searing lasers fixed on each other, causing looks that plough through your very being and rip out your heart; looks that I remembered from so very long ago.

And I waited. So far it hadn't happened and I 'd been searching for so long. Was it 4.000 years? Or more? I reckoned it was rather more; I can not quite put up with the new chronology after the birth of Christendom. I wait for my twin, my soul mate; once found and then lost. I know I will find him. What does it matter if it was a thousand years or more?

Leopold lead the way through the entrance, paid and got carried away by the writhing mass of sweaty bodies. Once he was a brief companion of my empty nights. He was quite young, so careless and proud.

Sean, the Irish member of my group, lanky and pale, but black-haired and blue-eyed like all Irishmen I had ever met, muttered to himself. "Bad idea." I understood what he meant. I had found him recently in a pub in Dublin, looking miserable, unable to organize his life.

"Women-lovers", he mumbled, "I can smell them." I opened my eyes - wet ponds of anthracite - and took it all in. Before me was the exciting gathering of humans ready for sexual adventures. "It just brings trouble , Sean said. I knew he despised hetero-orientated men. He unfortunately had fallen always for them. One of another fortunes of our group was that we could now determine pretty closely the sexual desires of the people we met. Call it a sixth sense or a little mind-reading. Today they call it 'Gaydar' only we were much more certain in our senses. In the old days of Uruk, when Babylon had not be founded yet, I had named it seeking for manly friendship. But that was when time was young and we were mortal.

I knew the feeling to be the centre of attention all too well. We shed our coats and cloaks and threw them carelessly aside. It was like a rush of adrenaline blowing through the large, yet surprisingly cosy room. I smiled at Romeo as I pulled him close and placed a kiss on his red, Italian lips to leave no mistake with the party people that we were playing in the same league.

I was deciding the crowd in "lookers" and "turn-aways". And then, it happened. My intestines received a strong blow, almost knocking me over and my eyes started to glow like a silver plate. I received a wave-like shock; an electric tickle that climbed from the soles of my feet up to my hair which flooded, black and silver, over my back and the white silken shirt I was wearing. Though I did not see anyone, the connection blasted me to my core. The walls shook and the lights went dim for a brief moment, enough to stop the music and to leave all in utter darkness. People started to scream, then stopped as the lights came on again.

He was here.

My heart pounded wildly in my throat. I had a bitter taste in my mouth from too much adrenalin and of blood because I had bitten the flesh inside. What would he look like? Which body had his soul chosen to be born again in? Would it be the familiar litheness of a cat; the dangerous glistening in his yellow eyes?

I felt Romeo stiffen as he watched me. My hair crackled and I clenched my hands to fists. In the distance I saw Sean flirting with a boy who looked very uncomfortable at this blunt encounter. Music filled my whole being. It was the kind of dance music that made my feet start moving and gave me an exuberant feeling of joy. I relaxed immediately.

He was here. Somewhere.

And like iron drawn to a magnet I would figure him out. But what would happen to him then? Blue laser beams showed me the way when I crossed the dance floor. White fog hovered over the ground, hiding my boots. I had learned to walk softly with a springy, floating quality, like a hunter searching for his prey and I knew that all eyes were following me. An invisible breeze played with that which was my main pride ñ my hair. I had not cut it for years after his death even though each of my folk had expected me to shave myself completely as sign of mourning. What would he say? Would he believe the enormity of my sadness about his loss? And then, he was there in my sight!

His amber coloured mane gleamed like a mass of spun gold as he sat casually against the wall, watching his territory as he might once had watched his herd of animals on the steppe. Orange light flickered over his face, making it appear as if it were chiselled in smooth stone; translucent like alabaster, cool like the surface of a quiet pond. His corkscrew locks had been tamed with a black hair band that gave him an unfathomable touch of feminine manliness.

I stood and stared. How could I had thought he would look different? His soul had found again his body, the one I was so familiar with. He was man through and through. My man. The sun-shaped golden pendant hanging on the very thin chain around his neck was immediately familiar: the amulet of Shamash.

Would I be able to see the old lines upon his skin? The pale black-red patterns; lines winding upon his arms like desert snakes, building words in a language that had always remained unknown to me? Was the Ibis on his shoulder blade? The one I had kissed so often? And was the secret line drawn down his smooth, hard belly, leading to the mystery that made us two lovers?

I longed for him now as endless relief flooded my body. Relief and fear. My journey had ended. Here I stood, frozen, after a string of endless days and nights -- endless centuries! Who, of all these humans I was surrounded by, could understand this feeling I now had?

I sensed Romeo's hand touch the small of my back. He looked questioning and knowing before a small smile appeared on his dark face. I nodded in silent agreement and he gave me a broad smile in return. The pressure of his hand increased and the moment of my hesitation was gone; it is just not my nature to be timid. I concentrated instead and opened my mind, erasing all thoughts not related to him. 'Enkidu! My soul mate.'

He turned his head and I was drowned in his green-yellow eyes. His eyes sparkled like the steppe by night when the lion's pride gathered under a Jacaranda-bush, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction. I saw the change in his face as I approached. The light, now a pleasant, soft crimson, set his locks on fire; his skin was sun drunken like a peach.

"Who are you?" he said with a voice, soft, like a tongue caressing the inner side of my thigh. My manhood hardened instantly. A quick look told me he was in the same state of excitement. But his embarrassment lasted just a small moment. He adjusted his elbows that supported his body, leaned back even more, opened his legs and offered his body to me. Brief thoughts of men's toilets and steamy encounters entered my mind. I had learned to value those acquisitions of homosexual freedom. The crowd closed around us again, chattering and laughing, as I made a step forward. We were alone, secluded from each of them. Yellowed pictures appeared again; faded picture memories of when I had seen him in reality for the first time, matching him with my foretelling dreams. He was more now. He was flesh whose heat blasted my own.

"I have a gift for you," I told him quietly. "Immortality."

His eyes flashed back like laser beams, and for a moment I thought he would laugh.

"You mean the little death?" His lips curled. "I can show you." His head made an imperceptible yet unmistakable movement in the direction of the men's rooms. I stepped further forward, now standing between his legs, and my hands came to a rest on his thighs. As if by chance my palm brushed his groin, feeling the hardness that matched my own. I sighed. I could have him right now, but I would lose him in that very moment of satisfaction. Instead, I locked my eyes with his and spoke his name.

"Enkidu."

His eyes became glassy before he focused them on me again. "My name is Lucien."

Lucien - a name like melting chocolate on my tongue. "Come to my place," I said. He rose instantly and willingly, forced by the power of my mind. I felt a little regret. He shouldn't need a prompt from my power, but instead, be the old Enkidu that I loved and lost; one that would need no urging. He'd always been a strong man of his own, with his indescribable youth and innocence . The contrast between strength and innocence always blended magically within him. He followed me and I heard his little gasp when he saw the flood of black hair covering my back . Sean was there, Leopold and Romeo also. I heard their whispers of understanding.

I had rented a house on the outskirts of the city for I liked to be separate. Glow-worms tumbled in the night as we drove through the little park attached to the property. I felt like a nobleman bringing home his conquest. Lucien would not be the same by the time the morning dawned.

He was silent but I felt his eyes on me in the mirror over the driver's seat. "I don't know your name", he said finally with his smooth-rough voice. Again I sensed his licks between my legs and my all too willing member twitched in anticipation. I needed all my willpower while this little plague in my trousers screamed and my mind scolded me. 'Idiot!'

I searched for Lucien's hand lying beside his thigh and he let me have it. "You aren't Austrian. Which country do you come from ?"

"From Mesopotamia." Why start our new life with a lie, I thought? I stopped the car and turned my head to him. There, under the calm facade, something seethed. I felt it, just like in the old days we had shared together. My wild man had been tamed by a trapper and a temple boy, but he still carried the smell of animal and I was crazy for him as ever. I leaned over and parted his mouth with my lips . . . there was nothing but pure fever. With a bolt, it all came back to me -- the heat, a temperature rising to burn myself to ashes.

His lips' movements were the world to me, brushing and sucking; his smooth tongue caressing my own. I couldn't get enough. I had waited close to 5000 years for this kiss and I laid my complete soul in his. My body pressed him to the car's door and I saw his eyes widening . . . in recognition perhaps? It was the first lecture I gave him - a flashback for him to remember: the first kiss of his life. I felt him react and fight with me for domination -- like he had always done, playfully like a lion's cub, but with incredible power in his hands. I tousled his hair, removed the band and his locks fell into my palms like a ripped pillow full of downy feathers. Very softly I heard him moan, a growl from deep in his throat. I felt his palms pressing my head to his own and the kiss seemed never-ending. Then, as our lips separated, I came spontaneously into my underwear! Ah, but what did I care, this source was never-ending!

He stared into my eyes. His face flushed. His lips, a luscious strawberry red, wet and glistening, parted slightly. Then he grinned diabolically at me and I recognized this smile. Yes, it was him.

"Enkidu," I repeated, touching his lashes, black and thick, and kissed the short, wide nose. "My name is Lucien," he insisted, though with a hint of uncertainty. He searched my face for something indefinable, something he couldn't yet fathom. I felt the buttons of my trousers open and eager fingers pull at my penis. Surprised, but pleased, he looked up. "Are we staying here in the car or will you invite me in?" he asked, pointing to the dark house.

I saw myself in the mirror of his eyes. I saw a longish face with dark complexion and eyelashes so black they framed my eyes like those of an Egyptian king. Ah! To have met those androgynous kings from ancient Egypt . . . but their time was over and I was still alive. I recognized the primal wildness in Lucien's eyes. He had never been able to hide it once we had been lovers. The candle's light, set in each corner of the room, made them glisten with the memory of a foreign country and the smell of the Euphrates whose waves licked softly at the shores. He had always watched me swimming, but never went into water himself. As with the lions, he was water shy; he had lived too long among them.

I smelled burning wax and sensed the heat radiating from his body. He stood still, watching my face. I raised a hand and traced a line from his neck under his ear, over his collarbone and down into the neckline of his shirt. I opened a button and instantly old lines appeared; pale, ochre coloured lines, forming a bird. The Ibis.

My fingertips burned with the heat. The lines vanished as soon as I removed my fingers. His gaze deepened and yet it was shy. Furtive. A little suspicious. "Why do you call me En . . . what was the name?"

"Enkidu," I said low. It was a magic word. I had tried this name on several men, but each time I touched them the way I did now, the skin remained unblemished and without change. But then, I had never had this absolute conviction that this man was him, my lover lost so soon in our earlier life together.

"Enkidu," he repeated as he chewed the word on his tongue. "What a strange name."

"It's yours."

He wanted to laugh again, but something stopped him. There, again, was that questioning look. He stepped away from me. "Is this your house?" he asked. I nodded.

"Just for a short time. I plan to return to my home some day." What was I saying here? I can never return to my home. Mesopotamia doesn't exist anymore. Foreign people, with a foreign belief, have occupied it. The country was separated and covered with wars. And yet I yearned to see the soft winding of the rivers again, making the country bloom -- a small, green patch while the rest of it remains a barren and stony desert. The sun shone different there, the light was yellow and strong, but by night, the exotic scents wafted through the open windows. Here, in the heart of Europe, everything was pale and filtrated with a rough smell of civilization.

"Return to Mesopotamia?" he asked surprised. "That's the two-river-land, right? Where civilization started." He pondered a moment. "Are you really sure? The war has just ended, are you a refugee?"

Refugee. Yes, in some ways I was. I had left my home country after I had searched for him in every corner of the land before I started my journey around the world. He could be reborn anywhere and I feared I would miss the appointed time. But then, hadn't the old, wise man who had survived the Big Flood promised me that I would recognize him? His promise had now become reality, I just hadn't known it would take so long.

I watched Lucien pacing the room, looking at modern paintings on the wall that didn't exactly match the massive, oak furniture. I had rented the house with them, and it just didn't matter to me. Nothing mattered except the completion of the task that was standing before me right now.

"Have you ever been there?" I asked his back.. His broad shoulders shrugged. "Of course not."

"Are you sure?"

He turned surprised. "Of course I'm sure." His voice was growing impatient and he returned to me. He grinned a seductive smile, implicating the question I was waiting for.

"We have the whole night, if you like," I answered his unasked question.

"Good." He grinned broadly, revealing strong teeth of a dazzling white and started to touch me. I jumped away. I couldn't possess him without letting him know. The semen in my pants continued to dry with a coolness that made me shiver. He seemed to be disappointed. His arms hung empty beside his body and he frowned. "What's the matter with you?"

"I need to tell you a story," I started with quivering voice. All my strength seemed to leave me.

He laughed. "A story? A kid's good-night tale?" Playfully he approached me again. "You are beautiful," he murmured suddenly and ran his fingers through my hair. "Is this the fashion in Mesopotamia? Have you ever cut this long, beautiful hair?"

I didn't answer. If I hadn't cut it, my hair would be as long as the distance from Vienna to Uruk. I just kept it in form because he once had loved my long hair.

Again this intense stare covered his eyes as if he tried to remember. I saw the effort with delight. Perhaps the more he touched me, the more the memories would return. "Chocolate and silver," he mumbled. "How old are you?"

Chocolate and silver. My hair still had the old colour and the waves, ending in ringlets, flooding over my back. But the silver was new, an exotic addition indicating my age. I was undying, but I could get older in the row of millenniums. Perhaps it was just a sign of grief and impatience. "Not a single year older than you," I said.

He examined my face again, searching for wrinkles and lines. There weren't any, I knew. Just perhaps the skin that had been too burnt from the desert sun.

He smiled. "Then tell me the story and hurry up." His hands brushed my groin, setting it on fire again. I guided him to a settee, beige with red roses. "Are you thirsty, hungry?" I asked, on my way already to the bar, examining the several flasks and bottles. Whisky would do me good, I loved the raw, smoky taste.

"Whisky?" he suggested.

I smiled and returned with two glasses. He took it and let the ice cubes jingle. Then he leaned over and brushed his lips with mine. He hesitated. "You taste ... familiar," he managed to say, before he devoured my mouth. The whisky sloshed. "Are you sure about the good-night tale? You can tell me afterwards." He set aside his glass, pulled me closer, buried his hands into my hair and chewed at my earlobe. "I want you. I've never met anyone like you."

I fought the seething urge in my loins. Not yet, I chanted in my mind. Not yet. Not yet. "It was in Uruk, when the days were young," I whispered.

"Uruk?" he whispered back.. Outside a night owl hooted. A soft breeze billowed the long curtains and a scent of rotten leaves wafted through the room. It was cosy. His kisses were promising. Why didn't he whip off his shirt finally? I thought impatiently. Show me your body. Show me the old lines. I touched his naked underarms and pale lines followed my stroke. Desert snakes. Winding and turning. A scar where the claw of a lion had hurt him. They vanished as soon as I removed my fingers. He opened the buttons of his shirt and his skin gleamed through the white fabric. I didn't dare to touch it.

Gently, yet determined, I pushed him back.. "Uruk. The old capital of Mesopotamia." I dropped back to my dreamful voice. "I saw him in my dreams. They said he was the most powerful man ever. His charmed body was strong, the muscles long and lithe. A delicate fur of golden hair covered his whole body, a protection against the burning heat and the coldness of night because he lived outside Uruk, the kingdom town. He had grown up amidst wild animals and spoke their language. The night I had seen him standing at the gate that leads to the entrance through the thick town walls, I had sat up. He was waiting for me. But his body was covered now in clothes, a loincloth hiding his masculine attributes. His skin was smooth and gleaming with sweat. I saw the lines because the Gods had marked him."

I guided my gaze back to Lucien to find him, mouth partly open, listening to me as a child would had done. His eyes reflected the golden shine of the candles gaining the brilliant colour of a peridot. "You have seen him?" he asked. "I mean, you dreamt of him? Who was he?"

"A child of nature. A master of bow, spear and knife. He was eating grass from the hills and with his weapons he used to kill animals for his lion's flock. He used to hunt with the females and mate with the males."

Lucien's lips curled. "Mate with the males?" His smile vanished. The eyes, a crystal peridot-shine, became stony like marbles of jade. The whisky glass in his hand trembled.

"Mate with lions. That's gross," he mumbled, then said in a fainter voice, "No, it was necessary."

I raised my eyebrow. Necessary?

"Yes!" Lucien was suddenly very engaged. "Many do this to keep friendship. To protect the herd, to take away aggression. Didn't you know? It was bloody animal."

Animal.

"I watched and then I joined." Lucien's eyes were far away. His corkscrew locks hung to his shoulders, appearing like a lion's mane. "It was a ritual for us. They told me it was a great honour when the master of the herd joined their peaceful friendship."

My heartbeat quickened. Was he about to wake up? I touched his face, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were getting a shade darker. "There was this trapper who saw me and then there was this temple boy, a courtesan from the temple of Shamash, the God of Sun."

"He was sent from me to tame you," I threw in furtively. I didn't want to interrupt his memory. My glass was empty and so was his, but I didn't dare to move.

"Why would you send a temple boy to tame this nature's child?" Lucien's eyes were again green-golden like before, oblivious to the memory.

"There are two temples, for girls and boys. They were highly honoured because they served the Gods and to mate with one of them means to be accepted and blessed by the Gods. I wanted to tame the danger the strongest man of our world radiated."

"And who are you? Why were you afraid of a hunter, living amongst animals? Speaking their language, eh?" Lucien smiled his enticing smile again and I longed to kiss him. But I did not.

"I was not afraid. I wanted to put our strength on trial. See if he was as strong as they said."

"And this temple boy? Was he pretty?"

I was silent. Lucien should know if he was pretty. The boy had seduced him, making him lose his animal being to become a human man. Again I touched Lucien's face, wiping his forehead and the locks, so soft to my palm. I remembered them well. I saw them flooding over the pillows and the furs covering our bed state.

"He was pretty. He was painted around the eyes, and his hands and feet had patterns of henna-paintings." Again Lucien's voice hesitated in delicate memories. I closed my eyes and saw what he saw:

To the watering place they came: gazelles, zebras and buffalos, and finally Enkidu came to quench his thirst. He saw the boy with shining hair, pearls in his earlobes and golden rings around his wrists. Both stood and stared, then the boy shed his loincloth and stood proudly in the sun, his sign of manhood very neat and anointed, the testicles smooth like apricots. He circled the child of nature who sniffed at him and took in the scent of manhood. His penis rose and the boy opened his legs, kneeled down and offered himself. He would work a miracle to alienate the wild animals and make Enkidu a man. He gritted his teeth when he felt Enkidu's mighty meat entering him from behind, shedding his hot semen instantly. The boy was surprised, he hadn't even had time to get hard himself, but then he felt teeth pulling at his neck, a licking tongue, and the heavy, fur- covered body pressing its weight upon him, entering him again, shedding his semen, entering him again and again. Untiring like the lions he mated with the boy and with each time he lost his animal being and a man was born.

"After seven days and nights of mating I woke up, satisfied and weak. I looked after my wild pride and they looked at me, but they didn't recognize me anymore. They went away and I was another person, something else completely; alienated and sad. The boy I had used to satisfy my frantic urge, lay beside me and I felt pity. But he was smiling. He rose and neared his face to mine, then he pressed his lips upon mine. I was overwhelmed and imitated his actions. He forced my lips open and played with my tongue. And I was on fire again. It was fever. It was wet and he showed me how to mate gently without haste. First, he guided me to the water hole and washed my body that had lost its fur. My skin was tender and white and he creamed it with an ointment of exotic scent, rose petals and cool cucumber, aloe and cinnamon. I watched him pull out a tool and with it he brushed my hair until it sparkled like fire and was soft and without dust and burrs, but rather smooth ringlets fell down my shoulders."

I watched with fascination Lucien's face. It had changed. His eyes had become greenish- yellow like a lion's eyes and his skin blazed with power. Between his legs I saw a large bulge had built and I longed to stroke it -- make love like in the old days, when the temple boy had taught Enkidu to be a perfect lover. Gentle but keeping his lust, soft and wild.

I could have jubilee. I did inwardly. He remembered. I took his upper arms. "Yes. The boy showed him how to kiss, how to love. He told him to eat with knife and fork. He taught him words. And Enkidu learnt fast. And then one day the boy wandered back with him to his home town. Uruk."

"Uruk." Lucien woke up. "That's a very exciting story of yours," he said broadly grinning. "It's almost as if I was there. Now," he peered down at my crotch, "finish your story later, or how long do you want to wait?" He stood up and stretched out his hand.

I could not follow. Or should I? "Wait a moment. I need another drink." Without waiting for an answer I refilled our glasses and sat down again. I could hardly tame myself, but it had to be. I didn't want to lose him. "Four thousand and seven hundred years ago, Uruk was the capital of the Two-River-Land that spread between the rivers Euphrates and Tigris. That's where our so-called civilization started indeed." I had taken Lucien's wrist and pulled him beside me on the settee. He drank from the whisky that gave his complexion a healthy, rosy touch. Sun-drunken peach, I thought once more. "There were wonderful temples for the God of Heaven, Anu, and for Ishtar, the hermaphrodite God of love and fertility. The king of this city state was named Gilgamesh. Do you know what they say about him?" But I fell silent. Lucien had fixed his eyes on me, looking me up and down like a stranger. I saw this name awoke reflections. "I ... I have heard this name before. In school?" he suggested.

"'Gilgamesh ... since the day he was born his name is splendid. Two thirds of

him are God, one third is human. He is the wild bull, the perfect one, awe-inspiring...'"

On the gate of the town wall Enkidu hesitated. He had never been in a town. But the temple boy dragged him along. Enkidu watched carts pulled by donkeys pass them. A market. Old men sat on the streets on carpets, drinking tea and playing a game with stones. He sniffed several scents -- roasted lamb and onions . . . fresh bread and sweet millet gruel. And then there was a festively dressed group gathered in front of a brownish brick stone house. They had decorated themselves with garlands of flowers and the ground was covered with fresh petals.

The temple boy held Enkidu's arm. "Look, that's a wedding. Do you see the bride? And next to her is our king, may Anu be gracious with him and may he have a long life." He kissed briefly his fingertips and bowed his head.

"What...," Enkidu cleared his throat from dust, "what is a wedding?"

The boy's brown eyes sparkled. "It's a promise between two people to stay together for the rest of their lives, to honour and trust each other in good and bad times."

Enkidu stared. One mate for the rest of the life? Just one? He could not understand the reason. Was it not the task of nature to mate with as many different beings as you could to have fun and to spread your semen? There had always been just one male in his flock, but many females. Enkidu's lips curled to a smile. But then, it was not Enkidu's nature to mate with the females.

"Our king carries out his right of the first night", the boy continued. "After a wedding it is his right to deflower the newlywed."

"Deflower?"

"It's what you and I are not," the boy smiled. "A virgin."

Enkidu watched the king from afar. He was taller than most. His splendid, brown hair was tied up with silver bands and a ring with colourful gems and jewels wound around his forehead. He appeared very strong. The white, shiny shirt clung over his muscled arms and chest; the rest of his body was hidden by a long skirt that reached to the ground coloured a deep, vivid blue, decorated with golden embroidery. Enkidu's innocent nature did not know any better how to behave in public and so the temple boy took notice that a hard erection strained Enkidu's loin cloth; it was impossible not to notice.

Gilgamesh was about to enter the house with the newly- wedded husband when he turned. His eyes found the child of nature, standing calm with big, amber-green eyes, his face framed by a fluffy mane, a spear at his side. The king's eyes found the unmistakable outline of his hard erection and he let loose of the husband.

He drew nearer and the people fell silent. The temple boy bowed deeply, but Enkidu just stood and stared unblinking.

"You are Enkidu, the son of the gazelle and the wild donkey. Welcome to Uruk."

The people murmured. This was the big warrior who lived with the lions and wild animals?

"Please bring him to my palace," Gilgamesh said to the boy, "and be thanked for your help."

The boy bowed again.

"I have a task to do," Gilgamesh turned to the waiting husband standing in the doorframe when Enkidu took hold of the king's arm. "Do not," he said. The murmur grew louder. No one was allowed to touch the king of Uruk unasked. Surprised, Gilgamesh turned. "Why not? It's my right."

Enkidu's eyes flickered over to the pale man waiting. "Will he enjoy mating with you?"

"It's not about if he enjoys it, it's about that I enjoy it." Gilgamesh's voice was a sharp snap, but Enkidu didn't leave. "Then search for a man who will enjoy."

Gilgamesh turned now fully to the wild man, the man he had tamed by a trick, and a little smile played around his mouth. His eyes stroked Enkidu's body, the lithe muscles, the pale lines where the Gods had marked him. The wild eyes. The straining erection, matching his own, he realized with surprise. He touched Enkidu's arm, embraced it and went on with him.

"Taught him a lesson, that wild man did, huh?" Lucien said sleepily. I looked at my watch, it was past midnight.

"He taught him you shouldn't need to fight to be friends, like the lions mate for friendship and stop aggression."

I wondered about Lucien's quick comprehending. He emptied his glass and put it aside. "And then both went to the king's palace and fucked the brains out of themselves?" he said playfully. "That gives me an idea." He stretched out his hand and started to unbutton my white shirt. I didn't know how far his memory had recovered and I did not want to help him remember except with my words telling the story of myself and him.

"They went straight to the king's bedroom," I continued slowly, "locked the door and undressed each other."

Lucien's hands had finished their unbuttoning and pulled the shirt out of my trousers. He stripped it off from my shoulders and ran his palms over my chest. His eyes sparkled again with brilliant peridot-green flares as he locked them with mine and then a significant thing happened. My hair started to crackle from electricity and before my eyes Lucien's breath became laboured and over his face scurried shadows.

"I know what you are talking about," he said quietly. "It is as if I have seen it. Was participant. Watcher. It's just... so funny. Such a strange feeling."

To hell with my caution, I shouted at myself. I wanted him so badly. I couldn't wait any longer, even if I had waited 4,700 years for this moment. Lucien's fingers played between my legs, stroking my covered balls, his head tilted with a rapturous smile on his face. "First Gilgamesh's long skirt was falling and the loin cloth he was wearing was wet from the droplets of joy he had shed in anticipation. Wasn't it so?"

Lucien's candid, innocent look broke my heart. Yes, it had been so. I rose to my feet, took Lucien's hand and guided him upstairs to the bedroom. I hadn't prepared anything, so I threw a red shawl over the little lamp standing by the bed and pulled back the covers.

"And Enkidu's unblemished soul comprehended that the king of Uruk would make him the biggest gift: his body," I continued my tale, not without shaking legs. "Enkidu's senses, still intoxicated from the experience with the temple boy, remembered how to make love. He still had this unbelieving staying power, but, he thought, this would only be natural."

Lucien laughed while he dropped my trousers, seeing my underpants wet from droplets of joy. "You live your tale, baby."

I thought I was about to faint when everything happened at once. Lucien gave me a private strip show, his gaze never leaving my eyes, before he stood proud, naked and erect in the soft glow of the lamp. He approached me and ground his abdomen into mine. It tugged at my heart to the point where I could have screamed. Wherever my hands touched him, lines appeared. They followed my fingertips up his upper arms, over his shoulders, down his chest . . . as smooth as I remembered. He followed my hands with his eyes and I saw in their expression that he was seeing them too. He didn't seem to wonder at their appearance. We both had reached a state where past and present melded together. He hooked his thumbs into the narrow waistband of my pants and pulled them down.

And then he started to kiss me. His fingers fondled up and down the shaft with oh, so familiar movements. He gave me a push and flung me on the bed leaving my lips as he devoured my manhood. "And Enkidu surely admired the king's size," he chortled indistinctly, chewing at my meat that filled his exquisite mouth. I was on fire, I was on the brink of explosion and I had to do something about that. Although . . . I knew very well my old lover was untiring. I struggled and removed carefully my penis from Lucien's sucking mouth, sat up and pulled him close. His member swung between his long legs, hairless like the rest of his body, except the trail from the belly leading to the abdomen because he had lost his fur on the threshold of becoming human. "Enkidu was not shy," I told him. "He remembered all the things the boy had taught him. Rimming for instance." I grinned and saw Lucien's eyes lit up. "Make it slow, raise the tension."

I leaned him on his back between the pillows. "It was a four posted bed, covered with the furs of zebras, gazelles and leopards. Enkidu, now human without his animal friends, didn't object to the killing of them. He lay down on them and spread his arms and legs."

Lucien spread his arms and legs and I kissed his rosy nipples, licking and biting until they were hard and big. "Do you see the little ibis? Enkidu had the same." My hands trailed along, over the curve of his waist, and the flat, hard belly. He was hard as ever when I gave his member a stroke. Long and rather thick it snuggled to his belly in a soft, leftward curve. "Gilgamesh loved the look of his new lover. He admired his powerful tool and the natural way with which Enkidu was moving in bed, like a courtesan, offering everything. He took his manhood between his lips and sucked slightly on the tip, tasting the crystal droplets..." I was copying the actions of my tale, and Lucien growled. It was so hard for me not to give in, let it end in the heat of a moment, take him, make him mine again, show him how much I loved and missed him. My hands caressed his ball sack, the silky surface, with its delicate heaviness and the velvet line beneath, leading to the place of my utmost desire.

"Let me mount you," Gilgamesh whispered and Enkidu's ears jerked as if he had to scare away a fly. "Mount me?" he asked. "I was mounting the boy for seven days and nights. I don't know what it is like to be mounted."

"Heaven," Gilgamesh said. "I will show you. You must follow my words."

Enkidu blinked. "And my reward?"

Gilgamesh's fingers had opened his hole already, massaging the little rough entrance, smearing some of the fluid oozing off his member around the wrinkled place of pleasure." Lucien moaned. He opened his legs wider and pressed my head between them for me to lick the tender skin. "Mount me," he hissed. "I've never done it before, I was just mating with lions and the boy."

I removed my tongue and looked up. His eyes were open and glazed. Amber- green. "Please, be my king."

He was here. Enkidu. Finally with me. I opened his legs even wider and smeared olive oil around his opening and on my aching penis. I knew how to do it and he knew instantly how to react. I leaned forward over him and pushed. And he pressed.

"Enkidu, my love," I murmured, kissing his lips which opened like a flower for me to smooth the pain he was certainly feeling. I waited for him, withdrew and pushed again. He arched his back and opened his mouth in a soundless cry before the pain subsided. "Deeper," he demanded. I sat on my knees, shoved my hands behind his back and pulled him close to me. He rested on my legs, face to face. "Deep enough, my wild man?" I asked. His smile was answer enough. His locks fell into his eyes and I stroked them back. His gaze became unfocussed, as he moved gently up and down, placing my hand around his shaft. I teased him, giving it little strokes, tickled it with my nails, until he didn't know if to laugh or to scream for pleasure.

"Seven days and nights you said you mated with the temple boy?" I asked him, feeling the climax building.

"Seven days and nights. I was quick. It just lasted a minute each time." He moaned when he felt my lunges deep into his hole. "But then . . . then he showed me how to prolong, to hold on. Oh...!" I gushed my semen into his hole, not able to hold on. It shuddered my body, rocked him and he sprayed our bodies with white cream.

"Let's do it again," he said after a while of blissful agony spent burying his hands into my hair, "you're so beautiful. So wonderful." He kissed me tempestuously, and it was more than I could take. He moved the muscles in his anus. "Stay hard, will you?" he whispered and I had to laugh. It was not hard to obey when the love of your life demands love.

"And then let's go out and you show me the town. I've never been in a town. There is so much you have to explain." He swung his leg around my head and stretched out between the cushions. I was still hard as I had been before when I plundered his sweet hole again, pulling him tightly to my body and he let it happen as if he had never known anything different. I stroked his meat until it rose again and he gave little sighs. I was overwhelmed that all my old feelings for him were as fresh as they were on the very first day when we had met and shared the bed together. I found it all again, his heat, the surrender, the tender frantic coupling. I buried my head into his hair that smelled musky like his being and intoxicating like oriental roses.

We found the perfect rhythm, as we had always done before and nothing could have separated me from him; not my second climax nor his release after I had turned him around to clamp my mouth around his spear giving him the intense feeling of contentment and utmost peace.

His whole body heaved when I laid beside him. My fingers ran over his moist skin and with gratitude I protected his spent and satisfied private parts with my palm.

"Am I the only one?" he whispered, eyes closed.

"From now on you are."

A long glance met mine. "I'm yours." He rose to his elbow. "And now we discover the town, right? I have never been to this temple the boy was telling me about."

"Beloved," I said carefully, "look around. What do you see?"

Lucien looked around. "A room, a bed, you."

"Have you seen the furs? Have you seen me?"

A bolt shot through his body. When he opened his eyes again they had their usual brilliant colour and he looked at me like at a stranger.

"What's your name?" he asked sharply.

He untangled his body from mine and I felt cold and alone. I longed for his warmth.

"What have you done to me? Do you transfer your dreams onto me? I saw . . . no, I see that you and that stupid king you were telling me about are one and the same! Are you mad?"

He stood there, hands supported on the bed, shouting at me. I sighed. This was harder than I thought for him to accept.

"And why do you call me Enkidu?! That's the name of the wild man."

"Because you are Enkidu." I decided to play it tough. It was now just a matter of time before he would remember everything. "I lost him and have now found him back."

Lucien ruffled his hair in agitation. "But that's insane! How old is your tale? When has this king lived? Before Christ, wasn't it?"

I watched him as he left the bed and began pacing the room. He appeared ethereal in the soft, reddish light. His hair blazed. I felt the urge to take a brush to smooth it. The muscles in his butt cheeks clenched with each step. I saw a glistening trail of oil and semen on his thighs.

I was desperate. What was I to do? Should I influence his mind, transfer my memories to his own, so that my memories would now be his? It would never be the same. Somewhere, deep down under this all too handsome surface was hidden my old Enkidu. My lover, my world, my everything. All those men I had mated with in the flow of thousands of years could not stop the nagging pain of loss I had felt. And now, that I had found him, it should end in desperation? I had to try again, harder.

"Lucien," I said softly, strived to calm him down and open his mind. "Look at me." He turned around, but his eyes didn't show any signs of memory. "You owe me your name."

"Gil..." I hesitated. "Gil. It's Gil."

He laughed. "You want to say Gilgamesh, right? The king of Uruk. Are you lost in a theatre-piece? Are you an actor, an author, who can't find the way out of his profession? Is it true that all of your types are schizophrenic?"

He was serious. He stared, then he quickly gathered his clothes and ran through the door and down the staircase. I followed close on his heels. Downstairs, I saw a figure leaning against the doorframe to the living room. It was Sean, watching us with a cynical smile.

Lucien stopped and looked confused. "I think I should go. A threesome is nice, but not tonight." He tried to pass my Irish companion, but Sean stopped him with a simple and quick movement of his arm. A questioning look at me from those Irish eyes confirmed I had made little progress. Lucien, his clothes still pressed to his chest, flashed at him and freed himself from Sean's grip, dropping his clothes. "I don't know what you're playing here, but I'm definitely out of this game."

Sean didn't move. His blue eyes wandered over Lucien's body. Perhaps he saw the old lines there. Then, in confirmation, he stretched out his hand and touched the Ibis on Lucien's shoulder. Lucien stepped aside and his body hunched, ready to attack anyyone who would do him harm. I recognized the fluent movements with which he had charmed me once -- the underlying power and strength. Lucien was the hunter of the steppe, eyeing his prey. His body was coiled tight as a spring, the muscles in his backside clenched, like the ones in his thighs and calves.

But Sean smiled. "You better listen to Gil's tale. It's not as creepy as you think. It's actually fascinating." Fearless, he moved his face nearer to Lucien's. Confused, I looked at the Irish man. There was something threatening about him. Something that had never been there before.

"Do you believe in everlasting love?" he asked now. "Non aging love? Love that lasts through the ages, centuries, millenniums?" Sean's voice was intense. "Isn't it fascinating?" I saw his fingers glow where he had touched Lucien's naked breast. Now he slowly lifted his eyes and turned them directly toward me. For a single moment I saw an abyss and in its depth a golden halo, like the fire ring around a sun's eclipse. I had only seen eyes with that fire one time before - back in Uruk, nearly 5,000 years ago, and by Anu, this was not a pleasant memory. But then Sean blinked and the image in my mind vanished, yet my confusion remained.

"Fascinating?" Lucien called out. "When he tries to creep into my mind? I thought we were having real sex instead of having sex only lived out in my brain."

"Is that so?" Sean raised an eyebrow. Another face appeared at his side. Leopold. Sean wrapped his arm around his waist.

"Don't be stupid, boy," Leopold said. "You'll miss the love of your life . . . of all of your lives!"

I indicated for Leo to be careful. I knew it would be a shock for Lucien to be in the company of immortal men, but the shock would only grow bigger if I was not able to show him who he was. His mind had to awaken from the long sleep ñ his mind and his soul. A good way he had managed, but it was not enough.

"Do you remember the lions?" I asked him, my voice low and calm. Lucien turned. He was still naked, as was I, but his body slowly relaxed; the threat was over. I approached him. "What did you see when we were together? You were asking me to show you the town. Which town did you mean?"

Lucien looked confused. "I was born here in Vienna, so why should I ask you to show me the town. You are the foreigner here."

"We both are foreigners. You asked me to show you Uruk. Where do you think these questions come from?"

"Who are you? Are you playing a game without telling me the rules?"

I gathered his clothes for him and pressed them to my chest. I shivered under his glare. I felt vulnerable. "There was this look of his, from those wonderful, innocent eyes, that did not know about harm, about the things humans can do to each other." My voice trailed along, becoming lower and lower as I spoke directly into his face. He was silent, his lips slightly pressed together, but he was listening.

"He was trustful like a child, and in constant need for words for my little temple boy had not had time enough to teach him everything. Enkidu did not know about the Gods, but I saw the pale lines on his skin, a beautiful pattern I followed with my eyes. His exquisite mouth smiled trustfully at me and I knew I wanted him for my companion." I paused. "I am talking of you."

Instantly I felt Sean's eyes on me. He flashed me a gaze that burnt through to my intestines as he looked my naked body up and down. We had never been bedfellows, for whatever reason. I felt distracted and lost my concentration. And felt immediately that I was losing Lucien.

"Why don't you both go upstairs and take a nap," I said sharply. Leopold got the message and pulled Sean with him.

"You were talking about me?" Lucien didn't seem to sense the interruption. As quickly as I could I crossed the room and took him into my arms. He was cold. My trembling hands traced along his back, over his butt cheeks where I felt the moist fluid still lingering -- my shed semen.

"Look, you were in trance, you saw things of your past. My words just helped to arouse your buried memories."

"But how can this be? If you are Gilgamesh you are ... ancient! And what am I then? The wild man from the moor who fucked with lions?"

I nodded. He laughed unbelievingly. "It's impossible!"

"Love, anything is possible! It's like magic, it's always there, you just have to learn to use it."

"Magic! Wow," he sneered. "You're still into your kid's good-night's tale."

"But you've seen them, the lions, the temple boy. You told me what he looked like and I swear it was the truth; painted eyes, henna-hands and gold around his wrists."

"Right. Probably you used hypnosis," he said dryly.

"Sort of, yes." I shook him a little. "What's there so mysterious about working with hypnosis. Have you never heard of people talking with foreign tongues? Or experienced lives they have lived millenniums ago?"

"I think that's nonsense."

"It is not."

He was unsure, I sensed. Unsure of what to think and uncertain if he should leave me. He laid his head on my shoulder and I pulled him tighter to me. "Don't leave me," I whispered. "It is too good to hold you. I have missed you for so long." He lifted his head and looked me in the eyes. A little darker they appeared, like Enkidu's eyes. "Don't you feel it?" I continued to whisper. "We are connected from head to toe; warm limbs snuggling onto me, your fragrant body, still carrying a scent of a wild animal, ready to give me everything. You have been the master of sensual joy. You have taught me the act of love in its most delicious ways."

"His name was Siduri." Lucien looked at me with enraptured eyes.

"Whose name?"

"The temple boy's name."

"Oh. I didn't know that." My heart beat in my throat again. His manhood hardened at my thigh. "I had mated with him for seven days and nights and then he told me his name, as well as he told me my name." His look lost itself somewhere in the room. "Who has given me this name anyway?"

"I don't know, Enkidu. Everyone knew this was your name."

Furtively I started to stroke him again. My fingertips slipped down the line of his slender yet muscular thigh, over his hip and down his abdomen, outlining the contour of his hard penis. He didn't seem to notice, at least it did not reach his mind.

"Tell me more," he said finally.

But where to start? "Didn't you feel the initial attraction between us? Your body was on fire, I could see it. I sensed it." I started furtively and felt his body stiffening. "Yes," he said. "Happens sometimes."

I gave him a sharp look and shook his body. "It happens sometimes? How often does it happen you go with a man you met two minutes ago?"

"It happened."

It happened? Then I had a more old-fashioned conception of . . . what? Sex? Love? Wasn't there anything more than just plain sex or an encounter for one night?

The oddest thing I felt right now was Lucien, trembling as he clung to my body as if he was enjoying my warmth. It was chillingly cool in the living room and the fire was out. "Do you still want to go?" I whispered. "Are you still afraid?" His lips brushed my cheek when he lifted his head. I felt his hands raking through my dishevelled long hair. "Were you really born more than two thousand years before Christ?"

I nodded.

"But ... but ... how?" An unsure smile appeared on his face. "This happens only in movies or fantasy-literature. And what about the others, living here with you?"

"Wherefrom do you think those writers get their ideas from? If you imagine it, then it's possible to become reality. Had anybody thought it would be possible to walk on the moon one day? And yet it happened."

His head tilted a tiny bit and his eyes searched for more answers. "The others," he reminded me.

"Like me. Undying." I held my breath. I had said it and waited anxiously for his reaction. "How?" he asked. His fingers untangled my hair, like Enkidu used to do after a night full of pleasure and fulfilled desire. By Anu, if he just would realize how familiar his movements were, his scent, his voice, the way he kissed me, the way he opened his legs for me with that innate innocence in his amber-green eyes.

"How?" I repeated. "It's not the time to speak about immortality, love. Don't be afraid of me. All I want is to have you back. . . our shared memories, our shared life."

"Then tell me more finally. Why do you think I'm Enkidu? What happened to him? Why had he to die while you still lived ?"

Mentally, Lucien had made a step forward. He was accepting the miracle. I searched in his face, so close to mine.

"I have seen that new God." I paused. "The son of a God, I should rather say. He was immortal like me. His name was Jesus and he walked through the desert on his mission. Though... I never heard himself claiming to be the son of a God. I didn't know which God he meant anyway, for he didn't even have a name." I smiled. "Do you remember Shamash, the brightest of all our Gods? He had given you an amulet to protect you from the wrath of Humbaba, the guard of the Holy Cedar." I touched the sun-shaped golden pendant hanging on the very thin chain around his neck.

A tickle covered my body when I saw Lucien's wide open eyes. "This is ...? It's in my family as long as I can remember. Longer than that. It was bequeathed over the centuries."

I realized his skin had raised into goose bumps. "You want me to remember, right?" he asked. "First I have to accept that something unnatural has happened. You speak of soul wandering? You think Enkidu's soul has manifested in my body? And where is Lucien then?" He pulled from me and watched me in silence, demanding an answer. I made a helpless gesture. "Lucien?"

"Yes, Lucien, me, my being, my history, my life before I met you. I'm twenty two. Is this the age you met Enkidu? How can you suppose I can continue my life as a ... wild hunter of lions? Shall we go to Africa then? Or would you like to live here in Vienna with me? How have you managed your life through the ages? Where do you get your money from? Are you working?"

I shook my head. Too many questions at once, but it was understandable.

"I do have a boyfriend," he continued, unknowingly hurting me with this statement. "What about him? What if I don't like you? If I - Lucien - don't want to live with you? And what's the point anyway? You are immortal, I'm mortal." Suddenly a light appeared on his face. "Wasn't there a nice Greek story of Eros and Psyche, his butterfly? In the end both were immortal; the Gods can decide. Are you a God then?"

My head still swirled. Somewhere I registered how odd our situation was. Both standing naked in the middle of a cold room with nothing to drink nor to dress. His clothes lay untouched upon a chair. "Your boyfriend first," I managed to say. "What's about him? Do you love him?"

"No. He's just a boyfriend. Nothing that matters for too long."

"It makes you shallow."

"Shallow?" He laughed. "I'm sure you had a million men to satisfy you." His eyes touched briefly my manhood and I saw a glimmer appear in his eyes. "Have you lways been faithful to them?"

"A million men?" Now it was my turn to laugh. "You have no clue, Lucien. Has it ever been so easy for us like it is today, here, in this place? While right now, that old man, who claims to be the representative of the nameless God of Christendom and to have a direct line to him, is preparing another smear campaign against us? Against us: the abnormal, the perverts all the others have to protect themselves from because we undermine the moral fabric of society. We are not worth living in his book. He should be ashamed of himself." I breathed through my nostrils like an exhausted horse. Hadn't I learnt to change bitterness into tranquillity? I forced myself to speak calm and low. "We are the ultimate sin according to them, aren't we. We are responsible for the negative results for society and morality. We are damaging the righteous development of humankind." I grinned. "I would laugh if it wasn't so sad. And so dangerous for us."

Lucien stared at me, but didn't interrupt.

"How many of us have been burnt or bashed to death or better yet, gassed in concentration camps? It is just a little over one hundred years ago since the British law sentenced one of their greatest poet to jail which meant the equivalent to a death sentence for him. Oscar was so ..." I screwed my eyes up in painful memory.

"You've met him?"

"Of course. I met each personage I was interested in. Oscar Wilde... he was brilliant, though very, very shy in bed. He was rather a watcher, not participant. His soul belonged to men. His heart belonged to that unfortunate young man who was no good for him."

Lucien looked at me with unreadable eyes. Not even I could penetrate the unfocussed depth. Something told me that he knew what I was talking about; the other part of him remained in awe.

"And what about all the other, nameless victims?" I said quietly. "And you ask me how many millions of lovers I had had? When we had to hide in grubby rooms of shacked houses? In backrooms of dubious repute, always on guard for police and informers? I won't mention the inquisition... And now, at the start of a new millennium, are things really easier?" I made a step in his direction, taking his upper arms, stroking my palms over the skin, up and down. "I learned my biography well to tell my lovers about what I am doing and where I come from. Those lies are nothing to be proud of. But how can I fall in love when I know right from the start that this love is bound to die? I can't hold on. I can't let myself fall into the arms of a man, cheating myself by saying this time it's forever. It is not. It is never forever with mortals." I took his shoulders. "But it could be."

There was a long silence between us. Birds softly twittered sleep-drunken in the middle of the night. Again the night owl hooted. The candles were about to drown into their own wax.

"I like you," he suddenly said. "You are right, my body was on fire the second I saw you. It never happened before. You are just so ... frightening, so dark, so mysterious."

"I saw nothing of that when me made love. You were not afraid." Lucien nodded. "When you speak those names - Shamash - our God of the sun, Anu, the God of Heaven, or even Enkidu... it's as if I have heard those names before. They are part of my sunken life, my forgotten life. Something I see in the very distance, but the more I approach the more it blurs. You still have to tell me what will happen to Lucien and the life I lead."

"Nothing," I said simply. "For the world you remain Lucien, but for me you are my lover lost, now found. It won't be difficult."

"And your friends? Are they ...?"

I nodded.

Overwhelmed he sunk upon a chair at the table. "You're not pulling my leg, playing a dirty game?"

"No," quickly I stepped to him, sinking to my knees beside him. "The more I tell you, the more you will remember. And the final story YOU will have to tell me."

He looked down on me. "The final story? About how I died?"

I nodded silently, stretched out my hand and took his. Together we rose and climbed the stair in mutual agreement. I poured two copper beakers full of scented, red, flavoured wine; white pepper, mint and cumin. Lucien took one, inhaled the aroma and drank.