Exiles in America(76)

“So does Dr. Zack have an outside friend? Who does he see?”

“Nobody. Not for a while anyway.”

“And he is not jealous of us?”

“No. But he’s not the jealous type.”

“I am, you know.”

“I know. So am I. A little.” Daniel worriedly sipped the wine. “But I’m

more selfish than Zack.”

“It is human to be selfish.”

Daniel nodded. “Sometimes I wish that I were even more selfish. Because

then I’d feel less guilty. But that’s something else I love about you. Your happy

selfishness.”

Abbas winced. Over the word selfishness or the word love? “You should

talk to my brother. He calls me selfish, too, only it is not a good word for him.

He believes all artists are selfish who do not work for God or their people.”

“We are,” said Daniel. “The good artists and the bad ones. Although

there’s no telling which is which until we’re dead.”

Abbas let out a loud belch. “Excusez moi,” he said disdainfully. “I often re-

vert to my roots when I speak of my noble elder brother. The great Islamic

statesman.”

“Are you out to your brother?”

“Out?” He laughed. “Such a decadent, Western concept,” he said with

mock solemnity. “Hassan would never understand. And he’s the family

banker, so it behooves me not to confuse him.”

1 7 4

C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m

Daniel knew there was family money, and compromises were probably re-

quired, but he was hardly one to judge here.

Abbas looked down and frowned at the tubs of chicken bones and leftover

rice. “Are you finished? Did you get enough? I suggest we clear off the bed

and take a nap.”

“But I’m not sleepy.”

Abbas smiled. “Neither am I.”

He’d rather fuck than talk. Daniel didn’t blame him.

They got up and collected the remains of their picnic. They threw most of

it in the trash but set the cake on the dresser for later. Abbas bent over the

covers, swatting at crumbs, exposing the long ovals of his beautiful ass. He

turned around and tossed back his glass of wine. His erection had returned,

sticking out like a little animal below the skirt of his sweater. Then he peeled

off his sweater, and his erection was part of his body again. He climbed under

the covers. Daniel pulled off his jersey and joined him. The warm, heavy blan-

kets buried them up to their ears.

“So,” said Daniel. “Feel better? Less depressed?”

“When was I depressed?”

“About art dealers.”

“Oh, them. Fuck dealers. Fuck art.” He put his arms around Daniel and

drew their chests and erect cocks together. “What are the most orgasms you

have ever had in one day?”

“Three,” said Daniel. He didn’t have to think about it. “You?”

“Six. When I was young and in Berlin and going to the baths.”

“Six different men?”

“Three men at the baths and a woman at home.”

“Hmm.” He assumed the woman was Elena.

“Those were my rabbit years, my donkey years. But I enjoy sex so much

more now. Especially sex with you.” He put a hand on Daniel’s bottom and

kissed him on the mouth. “This time I want to see you have an orgasm,” he

whispered.

“Deal,” said Daniel, and he stretched up and closed his eyes and fell into

a warm, open kiss.

25

They went back to bed around ten but didn’t get to sleep until one.

There was none of the postcoital funk that Daniel had dreaded. He was in

his late forties now, and his orgasms were milder, less profound. The only odd

note was when Abbas wanted Daniel to fuck him. That’s who the condom was

for: the married man. Daniel put it on, but he couldn’t stay hard enough to get

inside. It’d been too long since he’d fucked anyone. If he’d thought about it ear-

lier, he could’ve gotten some Viagra from Zack—but no, he was glad he hadn’t.

It didn’t matter. That was a symbol, too, and there were other ways they

could bring each other off. Afterward, they talked some more, finished the

wine, and ate the chocolate cake. Then they did it again and Abbas fell asleep.

He snored, yet so softly that Daniel soon drifted off, too. He slept through the

night without a single dream.

When they woke up the next morning, Daniel hoped they would loiter in

bed, but Abbas promptly jumped up to take a shower. “This is my one total

day in the city. I cannot waste a minute.”

Daniel loitered alone, feeling very sober without another body beside him,

his own body thoroughly sated and oddly indifferent. Maybe he wasn’t in love