It was a warm day in July. Standing along a harborfront near the ferry terminal in a light blue polo shirt, a pair of tan shorts that hugged me just slightly and Birkenstock sandals on my feet, I might have looked like any other twenty-two-year-old gay man waiting for someone on a summer night.
I looked out at the Atlantic Ocean and appreciated the vast beauty along with the good fortune that had come my way. After months of severe despair, I looked forward to the coming weeks and months. I looked forward to my upcoming internship at a reputable publishing house. Most of all, I looked forward to the arrival of a certain man.
The man was named Dragan Popovic. He was a well-known writer in the area and had come from Serbia in his late twenties. He had dark hair with an emerging silver presence, which gave him a distinguished and sophisticated look. He had a slender, toned form that made me wonder what he looked like with his clothes off and I hoped I would get to see him that way soon.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw him come around the corner.
He wore a light blue button-down shirt and capri style pants. On his shapely feet were a pair of expensive sandals and his piano player's hands instilled a further curiosity in me as to how he might play me if I ever to get to see him naked.
I took another look at the horizon as I imagined what passion he would bring me but had to block it out of my mind as he approached.
"How are you, lovely lad?" he asked as he came up behind me.
When I turned to face him, Dragan leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Exhilarated by his presence, I led us towards the ferry, asking him how his day had been as we boarded the boat. He smiled and said he had wished he could have spent it with me in the sunshine thinking of story ideas.
It was our fourth evening spending time together, yet I still couldn't believe he was interested in me.
We climbed to the upper level of the ferry. I moved in the direction of a section with several families and dogs, but Dragan touched my elbow to get my attention and placed his hand on my lower back, guiding me towards a more private part of the deck.
"Oh James, I wish I had the chance to show you the draft of the book I'm working on," he said. "It's a collection of essays on queer Shakespeare and the cover design is just stupendous."
"That would be lovely," I exclaimed as the ferry pulled out of the dock and chugged towards the other side of the harbor. "I wrote some essays on queer Shakespeare for my honors thesis."
"I'll need to give you a copy of the book once it's published then."
He took my hand and gave it a squeeze as we looked out towards the several islands in the harbor. I couldn't believe it: Am I, James MacMaster, really holding hands with a silver fox while staring out into this beautiful ocean right now?
I had just graduated from university, and I marveled over how Dragan could have been my professor had I gone to the university he was appointed at. When I'd left Ontario behind two months earlier, I doubted I would ever find someone special again. But here I was: soaking up the warmth of this man and the day.
As the boat completed its journey across the harbor, Dragan rose and I rose with him. Our hands separated as we joined the nearby families in the line to descend off the boat.
Once we had disembarked, we walked along a trail that took us along this new, undiscovered side of the harbor and Dragan gently took my hand again. We stopped at a bench that overlooked the journey we had just taken and he put his arm around me. I was still afraid of being affectionate with a man in public then, let alone with a man so much older than me. At the same time, I was tingling at the taboo of it all and the idea of someone catching me, a young man-who looked even younger than his years-being touched by a man like Dragan in public got me excited beyond words.
'So, James," he began, pulling me back to him. I looked up at him, alarmed that he'd noticed how drawn into my daydream I'd become. I must have looked startled too because he laughed reassuringly. When I relaxed, he took a long look at me and leaned in for an even longer kiss.
He had never kissed me before. But in that moment, I lost myself so deeply in his passionate embrace that it felt like we had always been there.
Dragan reached over to move his arms down my torso, to my lower back, my hips, sending sparks all through my body. When he pulled away, he looked at me both affectionately and as though he might just undress me right then and there. I felt my cock grow hard at the idea and wondered if he noticed my growing interest.
"I meet so many young men," Dragan began, his blue-green eyes leaning into mine. "I'm always hearing boys your age asking for extensions, needing reference letters, freaking out about deadlines. They're more like boys while you," he said eyeing my crotch, "are so much more of a man."
I could feel myself blushing again. Dragan laugh was low and rumbling as grazed his hand over my thigh. He leaned in to kiss me again, a kiss even more passionate and charged than the last.
"You're so sweet," I managed to say when our locked lips finally broke apart. Dragan slid his arm around my side, giving my hip a squeeze. "And..." I hesitated momentarily to finish the sentence before blurting out, "You're really sexy."
Dragan laughed at this too and ruffled my hair with his other hand.
