On the night our paths first crossed, hope seemed as obscure to me as the concept of a loving god. I�d been homeless for the better part of a year, and with winter closing in; my only real concern was survival. Those parts of me that were human, that had once felt a sense of pride or dignity, had been eroded until they were as insubstantial as dust. My hunger had forced me to give up all pretense distinction. Such sentiments were reserved for other men, men who did not roam the streets in foul scented rags.

It had taken me a long time to arrive at this way of thinking. For the first several months of my wandering, like a drowning man I clung to the knowledge of who I once was. I reminded myself daily, that I had once been someone. I�d come from a family of high standing. Others had whispered of my great promise, claimed I would be every bit as intelligent and successful as my father. And who knows what I might have accomplished, had my father lived a few more years? If he�d survived long enough to see me closer to manhood? But it hadn�t been in the cards. He�d died a suspicious death, and I�d been cast out before his corpse had grown rigid in its grave. My beautifully deviant mother had forced me out into squalor so that she could carry on with another man. It was with the same passion that I loved my father, that I now hated her. Yet at the tender age of fifteen, I was in no position to protest. There had been little for me to do, but go out into the streets and beg.

That was precisely what I was doing, when I first laid eyes on him. I was crouched down low against the exterior of a bustling bakery, hugging my knobby knees against my chest, as the winter�s first flurries of snow drifted about. Each time someone stepped out of the warm, sweet smelling shop behind me, I�d beg for a scrap of bread. Unfortunately, my attempts had been met with little more than hostility on that particular morning. Twice, the baker had come out to chase me away before he finally tired of the chore. I was desperate and cold, driven by the painful gnawing in my stomach. Apprehension was beginning to creep in on me too, as I watched the sky darken. The beds at the shelter would soon be full. My time had run out. I would either go to bed famished, or would freeze to death in an alley waiting for someone�s generosity. Neither thought was very pleasant.

Then, he rounded the corner. My savior. A slight man cloaked in black, face partially concealed by a smooth, white mask. He moved closer toward where I was huddled, his gait was sure and swift. Confident, despite the freakish apparatus attached to his head.

His appearance was bizarre enough that I first considered letting him stroll down the walkway unbothered by my pitiful pleas. However, the pangs in my stomach were greater than my trepidation. So as the man went to pass me by, I reached up and grasped the sleeve of his heavy cloak. �Sir, could you spare a coin or two? Please sir, I�m about to go mad with hunger.�

The man paused and drank me in with cobalt eyes as deep as an ocean; and then slowly, a baleful grin spread across his face. �The question isn�t whether or not I can spare a coin or two, boy. The question is why should I throw them away on the likes of you?�

�Because if you don�t help me, I might starve?� I glanced down at his big black boots and spoke the first thought that came to mind, �I�m not at all lazy. I could shine your boots. They look as though they haven�t been shined properly in some time.�

�The condition of my boots isn't of any consequence to me.� The man laughed and patted the top of my head, as if I were some funny little pet that had amused him. His mirth did not insult me though. On the contrary, I was glad to be making any impression on the man at all. It would make it more difficult for him to send me away penniless, I reasoned. And though it might seem insignificant to most normal people, the fact that this strange man had laid a hand on my long, dirty locks endeared him to me. I couldn�t recall the last time another person had bestowed affection on me.

�What is of consequence to you then, sir?�

�Now, that is a very good question... What did you say your name was?� He scratched his hairless chin, as if contemplating something of importance.

�My name is Sean, and yours?� I half expected the man to scowl or shove me on my way. Instead, the stranger nodded. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, as if he was anxious to continue on his way, and then he responded. �Marcus... My name is Marcus. Now, tell me, do you feel up to a walk? If you�d like to accompany me, I would be happy to have you as a guest in my home. You can bathe and eat there, and I�m certain I must have warmer clothes for you to dress in.�

�Yes...I can walk! I�ll go with you!� I could barely contain my excitement at the idea of a hot bath and decent supper. While I was not fool enough to believe anything came without a price, I was eager to pay whatever the cost for these rare comforts.

�Very good. It�s been awhile since I�ve had company, other than the few servants who work for me. And I�m fairly certain they�ve grown weary of my senseless drivel.� The corners of Marcus� mouth curled into a full-lipped smile, this one cordial. Far different from the contemptuous grin he�d initially greeted me with.

�Ha! It�s been some time since anyone has spoken civilly to me, aside from other beggars. And even then, our exchanges are far from gracious. Those of us who live in the streets are hardly the sort who would trust in one another. There isn�t one of us who wouldn�t steal a crust of bread from a feeble man�s hands.� I paused, aware that I was babbling like the village idiot. Revealing too much to this man who didn�t know me. Possibly even scaring him away. �Oh, but I would not steal from you, sir... You have my word on that. You�re offer is kind and I�m appreciative of that. More than you will ever know.�

�The thought never crossed my mind, boy. Now please, it�s growing dark, let�s be on our way.�

With a light heart, I kept pace beside my benefactor. I was so delighted by him, by his generosity, that I didn�t feel the snow melting as it dusted my cheeks, or shiver at the frigid winter breeze that blew through the worn cotton of my shirt.

We made our way toward the outskirts of the city, where the homes loomed grand and few. I�d not ventured out this way in quite some time, which made the display seem even more spectacular. Which would be his, I wondered? Which of these awe inspiring estates would I be a guest in tonight? And how mysterious that this young man, Marcus, would live in such luxury alone? I glanced at the man�s profile. I could not help but wonder what had happened to Marcus that he�d suffered such disfigurement. Clearly, he would have been a beautiful man, had he not been badly damaged. The unaffected portion of his face was impossibly perfect and his dark hair gleamed as much as any woman�s.

�Does the mask alarm you?� Marcus inquired without turning to meet my gaze, his tone void of emotion. Immediately, I felt the blood rush to my face. Had I been so na�ve that I thought I could stare without getting caught? I should have known better. Surely this man was accustomed to scrutiny. He would be insulted; would have every reason to believe I�d been inspecting him like some grotesque bug that�d been inadvertently trapped beneath a microscope.

�No. It wasn�t your mask that held my attention. I�m embarrassed to admit it was your hair. I�ve never seen a man with hair as exceptional as yours. It�s so well groomed... Long but free of knots and it�s very clean.� It was I who could not look him in the eye then. �I feel like a grimy pig.�

Marcus� voice softened. �One of my servants can clean and cut your hair, if you�d like. I suspect that under all of that grime, you�re a rather presentable young man.�

�I think I�ll take your last remark as a compliment and shut up before I humiliate myself any further.� I smiled nervously, relieved that Marcus had excused my rudeness without further question. But still, I was concerned that he might have been put off by my ridiculous observations concerning hair, of all things. I fingered a clump of my own tangled mane wistfully. From here on out, I vowed to myself that I would attempt more appropriate conversation. I would have to restrain myself, instead of blurting out the first thoughts that came to mind. This would be difficult for me, I realized, because it�d been ages since I�d participated in commonplace discussion.

�This is it.� Marcus gestured toward his home, a massive structure of gray stone and cement surrounded by an impressive wrought iron gate. The entire first level was awash with light. Without even stepping over the threshold, I knew a fire would be blazing inside in anticipation of Marcus� return.

Before we arrived at the front door, it swung upon. A young woman dressed in drab gray stood in the foyer, her hand still grasping the knob. �Come in before you catch your death out there, Marcus, really...�

�Don�t act all exasperated with me, Margie. I�m more resilient than I look.� Marcus unfastened his cloak and tossed it into the woman�s arms. �When you�ve put that away, I�d like you to prepare one of the guest rooms for young Sean here. He�ll be spending the night. Oh...lay out some of my clothes for him too, while you�re at it.�

Marg eyed me with contempt. �And just how should I know which garments you�re willing to part with?�

�Don�t be ridiculous, woman. You know well that I�m not attached to any of my personal effects. I have more than I will ever need and certainly more than I�ll use. Now, GO.� There was frost in his voice when he spoke and his eyes narrowed into ominous slits. �Don�t stand there gaping at me like some brainless twit. I said go, damn you... Before I lock you in the basement with the other rats.�

�Very well, sir.� The girl skulked away, leaving Marcus and I alone in the foyer.

�She�s upset that I�m here.� I stated the obvious, as she trudged up the winding staircase to the second floor.

�Pay her no mind. She�s a pain in my backside.� Marcus shook his head and laughed, �Come with me. I�ll show you to the tub. I�m sure you�ll want to tidy up before you eat.�

In truth I didn�t care to tidy up. I wanted to shovel food into my stomach as fast as I could manage, until there was nothing left in the man�s pantry. But I couldn�t confess to this. Instead, I nodded and followed Marcus to the same stairway that his servant had just taken. Falling in slightly behind him, granted me the occasion to admire his agile form without detection. I could not help myself. Inquisitive by nature, Marcus was an exhilarating puzzle to me. I was thoroughly fascinated and so my eyes remained fixed on him. He was well-muscled but slender. Younger than I�d first thought. It was with child-like gusto that he took the steps two at a time. Without warning, the oddest feeling overcame me as I watched him move; a feeling that until then had been completely foreign to me. Warmth spread through my fluttering stomach. Then, much to my horror, I could feel my prick begin to stiffen.

While I was not exactly innocent, my experiences with matters of the flesh were limited. I�d taken pity on an old whore once; handed her half my meal of scraps. The gesture had not been done for personal gain, but she�d insisted on paying me back. It was a matter of pride, she�d said. As the woman had nothing of value to give me in return, she paid me with her mouth. Even though she�d been a homely woman with few teeth left in her withered old head, her steady sucking had made me shudder and cry. Right after, she�d touched my cheek gently, with raw emotion in her sunken eyes. She told me that I was sweet and that my inexperience had made her feel like a young girl again.

There had been no one else for me. No other encounters with women or men, though I knew that there were others my age that gladly traded their bodies for money. It hadn�t been a matter of principle, my having not gone this route, but lack of demand. No one had ever approached me with such a request.

I found myself wondering if that was what Marcus would expect of me in return for his generosity. Wondered if he�d ask me to get on my knees for him. And if he did, would I even know how to perform the act to his satisfaction? I was surprised that I felt no disgust at the notion of taking him into my mouth; that my only concern was that I�d botch the effort to gratify him. My swollen member jerked. I knew I�d have to stop having such thoughts, that I�d have to divert my attention before Marcus noticed the tell-tale protrusion at the crotch of my pants.

To Be Continued...