Of Gays and Movies
Of Gays and Movies
Alex Markman
Of Gays and Movies
Alex Markman
Copyright © 2012 Alex Markman
Published by Alex Markman at Smashwords
All rights reserved.
eISBN: 978-1-926720-25-8
Of Gays and Movies is a work of fiction. Names, characters and events are the products of author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, organizations or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.
http://sites.google.com/site/alexmarkmanwriter/
markman.writer@gmail.com
Also by Alex Markman
Novels:
Contra-ODESSA
Messenger of Death
Payback for Revenge
Short Stories:
Born with Sin
Flavour of Paris
Farewell to Past
Cardiovascular Patient
Banality of Words
Value of Passion
Love Thy Neighbour
Breakfast with the Cleaning Lady
Of Gays and Movies
I
It happened in Toronto, in one of condominiums on a quiet street of a bedroom community. The commotion began in the second entrance of the five-storey building, where tenants, most of them young, were on friendly terms with each other and often got together to play poker or chat over a few beers. But peaceful life does not last forever.
On one late Saturday morning, when the sun brought to view people and things with unforgiving clarity, a new tenant moved in the apartment on the third floor, which had stood vacant almost a month. At this hour a young couple in their early twenties just got off the bed; not fully recovered from the merciless night of passion, they settled by a large window, ready to refresh themselves with a cup of coffee.
Isabel, a twenty years old dirty blond, threw a casual glance outside. Apparently something interesting was there, as she moved closer to the window and stretched her neck to see what was happening on the ground. When she turned back, Andrew, her boy friend, noticed a peculiar luster in her large, brown eyes. He did not like it. He had already had enough experience to know that this light in female eyes is indicative of an acute interest in the opposite sex. Her lips, so many times kissed in the last eventful night, parted seductively.
“What is down there?” Andrew asked, watching her with jealous interest. A long wisp of hair hung over Isabel’s left eye. She threw it aside with a casual shake of her head, in elegant move of a woman confident in her looks. A fresh sting of suspicion pierced Andrew’s ribs.
“A new tenant moves in,” she declared, and then rose to her feet and leaned over the window seal. Andrew observed her voluptuous forms from behind with renewed interest and excitement. A frown appeared on his face. Combined with a week’s facial hair growth, it projected an image of a dangerous macho man, who he was not.
Andrew, a twenty three years old guy, was tall, handsome, with a neatly cropped blond hair; he had remarkable blue eyes which, he was sure, were irresistible to the most female population. Rough, distinctively sharp features of his face contrasted harmoniously with soft outlines of Isabel’s.
“What about him?” Andrew grumbled.
“Nice furniture he has. Expensive.”
“So what? We also have good furniture.” The intensity of his jealousy heated up by a few degrees. Up to this moment in his life Andrew believed that the whole world, including Isabel, belonged to him. Now a crack formed in this belief.
“He is not married,” Isabel murmured, as if talking to herself.
“How’d yah know?” Andrew asked, rolling his eyes over her behind with a feeling of an owner who suddenly realized that he had forgotten to insure his property.
“Because he is alone. And there is no single thing there that may belong to a woman.”
“All of a sudden you are so attentive to details,” he noticed.
“Sure though, he has a girl friend,” she said, dismissing his remark.
“How’d yah know?” he repeated his question, and then stood up to join in her observation point.
“This type of man must have,” Isabel said in a low voice. “Women never let them run alone on a green pasture of social life.”
“So poetic,” Andrew growled. “You like this jerk, don’t you?”
“He is good looking.” Isabel threw on him a heavy, convincing argument, not giving him a glance.
“Good looking?” Andrew exclaimed. He did not believe his ears. Someone, other than him, was good looking for her? Was she nuts?
"Yes," she agreed casually, much to Andrew's chagrin, and returned to her chair. There was a noise of commotion on the staircase landing: movers struggled with bulky pieces of furniture on the narrow passages of the old building. Isabel crossed her legs, letting laps of her robe slide aside and down. Noticing direction of Andrew's attention she brought the coffe mug to her lips and then threw a sly, naughty look at Andrew. She did not change her pose when the doorbell rang.
"I'll do it," Andrew volunteered, jumping to his feet. The entrace door to their open-concept apartment led directly to the living room. When adjar, it revealed the whole space for observation. Andrew squinted his eyes at Isabell's exposed legs, but said nothing and unlocked the latch.
"Come in, Lucky," he invited the neighbour from the forth floor; this was a twenty four years old man, less than average height, and really good looking. Always dressed to kill, with no blemish on the skin of his face, with large blue eyes and somewhat feminish mane of blond hair, he was "the-love-at-first-sight" for most women, but Andrew was not jealous of him. The guy with nickname Lucky was gay.
"Have you seen our new neighbor?" he asked with the luster of excitement in his eyes, while settling against Isabel's exposed legs. Not waiting for an answer he said: "Looks serious, but handsome. Well-to-do, no doubt. A bit snobish, I think, pretended that he did not notice me when I went by."
"Perhaps he'll notice me," Isabell dropped a casual remark, which was not taken lightly neither by Andrew, nor by Lucky.
"I'll crush his balls if he notices to much of you," Andrew growled with anger.
"What if he is gay?" asked Lucky, talking to Andrew. "In this case I will take care of his balls, and Isabel of yours." Isabell clasped her hands in a mocking joy and tossed her bum in the chair.
"Do you mind, Andrew?" she asked, laughing. "I know how to wash them. I have a good dishwashing liquid."
Andrew lingered a few moments, not кhowing how to interpret the mood of the casual social chat. His effort to transform his vague thoughts into words was interrupted by a phone call. Isabell answered it.
"Hi, Simon," she said, covering her legs. "Sure, come in. Lucky’s here too." She disconnected and looked up at Andrew. "Simon and Vita coming."
This was a young and rather odd couple from the second floor. Simon, a twenty two years old parking lot attendant, was anything but the ordinary man. A university drop-out, he decided to devote his life to poetry, but could not find time for writing it. Vita, his girl friend, who considered herself his common law spouse, was nineteen years old, full-figured woman with small, but always smiling eyes and sensual lips.
Simon fell in love with Vita in a Greek restaurant, where she was a waitress. After very short, but fruitful period of courtship - it lasted one evening in the local cinema, as Simon's income did not suggest more taxing extra-curricula activity - he proposed, and she accepted. It had been already three months since she moved in to his apartment; there was no separation in sight, if we can take their heated quarrels at nights for indication of genuine passion.
"They had a row last night," Lucky said.
"Because of dinner, I guess," Isabel chuckled. "Simon says that her cooking has no mercy for humanity."
"Right," Lucky agreed. "Yesterday they invited me for dinner. I'm sure it was not meant for humans. Simon was beyond himself. He said that it smells like his first girlfriend. Vita got jealous that he still remembers his first stinking love."
The doorbell rang three times. This was Vita's signature. Andrew found it useless to instruct her that one time is enough; she did it anyway.
"Open!" Isabel shouted. The door was pushed from outside. Vita and Simon stood there side by side, well positioned for a family photograph. Vita's hair was in deliberate disarray, lips painted red, piercing all over her face. Somon's shirt was unbuttoned down to his navel, revealing smooth, hairless skin of his chest. They entered inside together, as trained soldiers, and began talking simultaneously.
"Have you seen the guy who just moved in?" Vita asked.
"He has a gold watch," Simon was saying at the same time.
"He invited us to play poker on Saturday night," Vita declared with joy.
"He wants to invite all neighbors for a housewarming party," Simon continued, giving Vita a sidelong jealous glance.
"Will you go?" Andrew asked, watching them taking vacant chairs without invitation.
"Of course," Vita was quick to respond. "He is handsome." Judging by the tone of her voice, she deemed it a good reason.
"She is a slut," Simon announced with emphasis, pointing his finger at Vita. "She is easy with all good looking men." He twisted his lips in bitter disapproval.
"Not true," Andrew objected. "You are not good looking."
Isabel and Vita chuckled.
"Stephan said that we are a nice looking couple," Simon argued.
"His name is Stephan?" Isabel quickly cut in.
"Yes." Vita looked at Isabel. "He invited everyone. Will you go?"
"I've gotta leave," Lucky said, jumping off his seat. "Urgent matter," he added, although no one asked him for explanation. Being promiscuous, he was always busy meeting different gay partners. These meetings were saturated with reproaches, reciprocal accusations of infidelity, and tears of infatuation. Lucky opened the door wide, but instead of leaving he lingered on the threshold and turned back.
"I invite everyone to my place tonight," he said. "Him too."
"Would you close the door please?" Andrew asked, and then murmured: "See you later."
"Will you come?" Lucky was absorbed in watching reaction to his invitation and kept the door open.
"Close the door from outside," Vita told him. "I'll be happy to see you later."
Andrew lost his hope that Lucky would ever leave. "W'll come Lucky," he promised. "Just make up your mind regarding the door."
"Oh," Lucky said, pretending a surprise. "Sure."
This time he did not have a chance. The new neighbour showed up in the door frame.
"Sorry for the intrusion," he said, talking to Andrew from the staircase landing. "I just want to say ‘hello’, as I am your new neighbour."
Isabel jumped to her feet and made a step forward.
"Please come in," she invited. "Have a seat." Her invitation sounded weird, as all chairs were taken. When the new tenant stepped in, she stretched her hand to him. "My name is Isabel."
"Stephan." He shook her hand, slightly bowing in a gesture of respect, a big John-Kennedy-like smile enlightening his face. Immaculately dressed, with polished manners and gallantry, he possessed irresistible charms. Andrew frowned. Usually women succumb to advances of such men, being happy and enthusiastic victims of such sex predators.
"Now Lucky, close the door from outside," Vita isisted with her customary tenecity. Lucky gave her a look of indignation and closed the door from inside. Being a social animal he wouldn't miss the action.
Isabel stepped back, took her seat and crossed her legs, gown slipping down both sides of her slim knee. Not much was exposed, but enough to raise the heat of emotion in Andrew's chest to the boiling point, and slightly coloring his cheeks. Stephan though was tactful enough not to give a glance to what Isabel considered as one of the nature's wonders - her legs.
“Let me introduce myself.” While talking, Stephan was looking at Andrew, as if he was the only member of the audience to speak to. “I moved from Vancouver to Toronto two years ago. Work in “Genesis Production” movie company. Hectic work, you know.”
A slight commotion disturbed the audience. Vita and Isabel tossed impatiently in their seats. Andrew frowned and threw a stealing glance at Isabel. Her eyes emanated sheen of narcotic pleasure. Vita was all admiration.
“Movie company?” she asked in a plea to confirm her best expectations. “In what capacity, may I ask?”
“Art director,” Stephan said matter-of-factly, not giving her as much as a fleeting glance. He still was looking at Andrew, apparently taking him for the most respected person there. Andrew rose and offered his hand for a handshake.
“Andrew,” he introduced himself. “Computer programmer. Work for Royal Oak Oil company.” Returning to his seat he added: “No glory, but good money.”
“Who needs glory?” Stephan responded. “There is nothing in it to benefit from. Just annoying attention of those whom you’d like not to know, and lots of inconvenience in daily life.” He spoke as the one who was the object of such attention.
Vita and Simon jumped off their seats simultaneously, offering their hands to Stephan. He used his both hands to shake theirs.
“Vita,” she introduced herself, not letting Stephan’s hand go. “I am a sort of soul mate to you. I’m an artist, you know.”
Simon began speaking before she finished.
“My name is Simon. I am a poet. If you need a poet for your movie production, I am always here.”
“A poet?” Stephan asked with marginal interest in his eyes.
“Yes. I hope that you and I will have some time to sit together and chat over a glass of whisky. I will read you some of my verses. Believe me, they are good. Some people even shed tears when I read them.”
“Not me,” Vita said. Stephan ignored her remark.
“Sure, why not,” he nodded. “Hope to see you all soon at my housewarming party. Excuse me, I have to go.”
After he left, everyone except Andrew began talking. Andrew did not listen to them. He disliked Stephan for his good looks, good manners, being a movie art director, and such an attraction to Isabel. Not good. Girls are stupid. They think that anyone belonging to the movie industry is two heads above the crowd. What if she will fall in love with him? The whole world then will collapse.
II
At the end of the week, after six, Andrew met Isabel at the Greek restaurant, which was close to her work. The choice was ideal for a young couple with modest income, voracious appetite and no knowledge of or concern about cholesterol level. The first half of meal was devoured in silence of bon appetite. Then came a moment when Isabel dropped a spice of social interaction into the orgy of feast.
"It's been already two weeks since Stephan moved in," she mumbled, chewing her words with a stubborn piece of shishka bob. Her greasy, red lips seemed to Andrew even more attractive at that moment. "Still, no woman in sight. Isn't it weird, Andrew?"
Mention of Stephan choked Andrew. He took a huge swig of bear and cleared his throat, saving a few moments for thinking.
"What's weird about that?" he asked with a menacing frown.
"Well... Good looking, obviously well-off, any woman wouldn't mind him."
"Any woman," Andrew grumbled with grim emphasis. "Including you." He began eating faster, but his thoughts and emotions flew far away from the dish.
"Don't be silly," Isabella advised, and raised her glass of beer. "Cheers."
"You like him, don't you?" Andrew insisted. "Why don't you admit that?"
"Don't be silly," Isabel repeated, hiding her eyes.
"You wiggle your ass before him when he goes by," Andrew pressed on with straightforwardness of a sailor. Isabel stopped her intense chewing process and helped herself with beer.
"You are nuts," she declared after a pause, raising the strength of her voice to a hundred decibell. A few heads turned their way. "I have never said a word when you flirted with Vita."
"Vita?" Andrew cried out. This was a despicable lie. His version of truth was that two months ago he squeezed Vita's tits in the kitchen at one of their parties. He had two excuses for that. One, that he and Vita were drunk. She raised both of her arms to get a bottle of wine from the top shelf, making it tempting and convenient to grasp her goodies from behind. Another excuse was the fact that nobody knew that, which meant that it had never happened. In any case this was not a flirt.
"Vita," Isabel insisted in confidence. "She wiggles her ass before you, and you can’t take your eyes off it. You think I'm blind?"
Dark clouds of scandal was looming in the air. Andrew decided to postpone it until they reach the privacy of their apartment, and took to eating. After consuming whatever was brought to the table, he was overwhelmed with the feeling of an overloaded stomach and disgust to the whole world. On the way home he stuck to the tactics of silence, which brought Isabel to fury, and then dropped her to the bottom of exhaustion. When Andrew pulled in at the parking lot of their apartment building, Isabell mumbled: "Here they are. Stephan and Lucky."