The orchestra and choir were breaking up in Luxembourg City's Cathedral of Notre-Dame after a particularly ethereal performance of Faure's
Requiem
, enhanced by the echoey acoustics of the cathedral's stone interior and vaulted ceiling. The young, yet highly talented second-chair violinist, the handsome reddish-blond American, David Graves, sought out the even more talented tenor soloist for the work, the dark, sexy young Frenchmen, Peter Antoine. Peter was chatting with a couple of the singers and a few who had been in the audience, but as soon as he saw David approaching, he broke away from them and turned and smiled at the young violinist.
"So, this is farewell, is it, David?" He asked as David approached him.
"For now, at least, unless you'd like to go somewhere for the afternoon."
"I would love to, of course," Peter said, "but I have a train back to Paris this afternoon."
"And I guess I need to go on to Cologne," David said. "I've signed on to play in Gustav Holst's
The Planets
there in the cathedral next weekend."
"These cathedrals are great places to give concerts, aren't they?" Peter said. They were both a little nervous, neither knowing quite how to break it off. They had found each other almost too late, having gone drinking together two nights previously, then having found a room in a cheap hotel, and, finally, finding out that they made great music together in the sheets.
"Yes, they are. It's too bad that--"
At the same time Peter was saying, "I'm sorry we only--"
"So am I," David quickly agreed. "So am I."
"So, what will you do now, go right on to Cologne or stay here for a few days? How will you manage? I know you're short on money."
"I'll go back to busking with my violin at the train station, I suppose," David answered.
"You can't make hotel and meals money doing that, I don't think," Peter said. "You're quite good and versatile on the violin, but--"
"I found it depends where at the train station you stand to busk," David said, with a mischievous smile. "As I was told in Amsterdam before arriving here, there's a low wall outside the train station entrance that's a pickup spot for men looking for younger men. I found as soon as I got here that if I busked with my violin at that wall, I had no trouble getting hotel and meals money."
Peter laughed. "That's an interesting way to do your European tour, I suppose. I'm glad you can so readily rely on your good looks. I know I've had my pleasure with you. If you're ever in Paris. And, here, give me your cellphone and I'll give you mine. We'll exchange numbers."
"I'm too much on the move to have a number I can give you now, but, yes, let me put your contact number in. I should be in Cologne for a week starting April 1st. I can send you a number when I get there."
"That would be
merveilleux
--wonderful," Peter said, his countenance turning a bit wary. "But be a bit circumspect. Be sure it's me before saying anything compromising over the phone."
David felt the chill go up his spine. "So, you have someone in Paris?"
"Alas, yes. But she--"
"She? And you're married? Children?"
"I'm French," Peter said, as if that explained away everything.
"That's a bit too complicated for me," David said.
Peter just shrugged and looked away, which was all the confirmation David needed to hear of where the two stood. He was about to say something, but the concert manager, Helmuth Hollerich, who had arranged three hookups for David earlier in the week to help him cover his hotel room and meals, was approaching. Behind him was a gorgeous blond guy in his late twenties or early thirties, dressed in a chauffeur's uniform. Peter used this approach as an opportunity to fade away.
"David. There you are," Helmuth said. "I know you have an engagement in Cologne and need to figure out how to get there--but that you don't really need to be there for a few days. I have an idea how you can cover that. A prince has shown interest today in meeting and being with you for a few days. His chauffer is here to take you up to his place if you're interested. I told him what your needs are in getting to Cologne and he expanded the offer. If you stay with him for three nights, he'll pay you 2,000 euros and transport you to Cologne."
"A prince? The prince of Luxembourg?"
Hollerich laughed. "Luxembourg is a duchy. It has no prince. This has long been a safe haven for displaced royalty from elsewhere in Europe. This prince is a German one--from a no-longer-existing princedom. But his family is distinguished, and I assure you he is very wealthy."
"And interested in me."
"Yes. He said he's come to two of the concert performances and couldn't take his eyes off you. He knows that German banker, Manheim Storts, you went with earlier in the week, and he's very interested in--"
"Yes, why not," David said, his eyes somewhat resentfully following Peter Antoine's departing back. He then turned and smiled at the chauffer. "And you are?"
"Heinrich," the handsome chauffer said, returning not only David's smile but also his look of interest. "At your service, sir."
"I hope so, Heinrich. I certainly hope so. We'll have to stop at my hotel for me to pack and then I'm all this prince's of yours for the next couple of days."
* * * *
Luxembourg City, the capital of the duchy of some 135,000 people, is located where two deep-ravine rivers, the Aizette and PΓ©troasse, meet, each coming together in big bends that essentially has the downtown areas of the ancient city sitting on cliffs connected by a series of main-avenue bridges across the river chasms. A banking and international organization capital of Europe, the city is extremely wealthy. Those who have fortunes live a glorious life here.
David Graves hadn't been living a glorious life, exactly, as he'd booked into the city to play in the orchestra backing a professional choir in performances of Faure's
Requiem
; he was housed in what essentially was a youth hostel. But he'd been wined and dined and bedded by a few well-heeled men in the week he'd been here, so he'd done all right for himself.
Now, he was being invited to service a prince for three days for $2,000 plus ongoing transportation to his next engagement in Cologne, Germany, so he felt he was doing more than all right. He had no idea how presentable, physically, this German prince would be in terms of a sex partner, but the fact that he was being picked up at the cathedral by an extremely presentable chauffer in a shiny Bentley boded well.
The chauffer's name was Heinrich, and he showed as much interest in David as he took him to the car as David showed in him. He was young, blond, and built. David also suspected that he took the long way to the prince's villa, as they crossed several bridges and multiple sections of the two rivers before finally climbing to a plateau above a bend in the Aizette River that obviously included exclusive estates with magnificent views across the river gorge and into the downtown area of Luxembourg City.
The chauffer, Heinrich, bantered from the driver's seat with David, their eyes connected via the rear-view mirror, as the Bentley glided through the city, over bridges across river gorges, and wove its way up to a high plateau to the east. They exchanged small talk that established that Heinrich had come to Luxembourg from Germany, that his love for fine cars had led to him driving them, and, subtly stated, that he knew David not only played the violin in orchestras but also was willing to lay down for men. He also managed to convey that he was a gay top without stating it directly. He asked if it was only older men David was interested in and when David indicated he'd gone with the young tenor, Peter Antoine, Heinrich had seen David with, that seemed to satisfy Heinrich.
"I guess the man you went with would have to be rich or show some talent," Heinrich said, his command of English quite impressive for a chauffeur.
But David said, "No, he only has to be as handsome as you are."