Distracted

"Yusuf? Yusuf Chelik. Is that really you?"

The handsome middle-aged Turkish graybeard in a gray thawb, an Arab robe, stood up from the outdoor café table on Kizilay Caddesi in the Seyhan central market area of Adana, Turkey. He was a bit flustered to see the man, accompanied by two young men, one Turkish, one obviously a gorgeous Western blond, here on the Adana streets. How he had known the man before was under much more circumspect conditions. The young man sitting at the table looked at him with some surprise, seeing the usually totally in-control Yusuf flustered.

"Sam?" he said, hesitating with the name. He had known this man of comparable age as he, but still tall, imposing, and robust, under more than one name.

"I knew you were in Adana now, but I had no idea we'd run into each other," the man who had been called out as Sam said.

"You knew I was here?" Yusuf asked. He didn't find that comforting. Were they still watching him? "I retired three years ago--in Cairo. I didn't think that--"

"I'm retired now too. The world passes us by--goes on no matter how we sought to influence us," the man who had answered to Sam said.

"Come, sit," Yusuf said. "Have a coffee with us and tell me what brings you to Adana." Yes, most certainly tell me what brings you here, Yusuf was thinking, although he couldn't help letting his gaze go to the young blond man with Sam. He was absolutely beautiful. Just what Yusuf liked. Is it me you are seeking, are surveilling? Although, if the later, you probably wouldn't have declared yourself. And how did you trace me from Cairo back to here?

"Yes, that would be welcome. We've been doing a lot of walking. This is my nephew, Jason"--Sam was introducing the young, blond god. "And our guide in Adana, Ahmet." Ahmet was a beefy but quite handsome, dark-complexioned Turk. "And you are?" he asked of the young man who had been sitting with Yusuf.

"Murat. This is my son, Murat. We are in business here in Adana together," Yusuf said. He signaled for a waiter to bring coffee as Sam and his nephew took the two empty seats at the café table with Yusuf and his son and the guide, Ahmet, sat at the neighboring table.

"I understood that you went into business here," Sam said as the waiter hurried off for the coffee.

"Yes. My son and I are in the Oriental carpet business. Our main shop is just along the street here, with our residence behind it. What brings you to Adana?" The answer to this question was quite important to Yusuf. He had no idea whether Sam would tell him the truth. When they are worked together, truth had not been an honored commodity. Sam would not have just casually happened upon him when they both were employed in the business that brought them together.

"A bit of both," Sam answered, with a smile. "Some business and some family outing. Like you, I couldn't simply retire. I needed to step away, as you appeared to need as well. But I had to be employed in some way. Unlike you, I still have my hand in a bit. I consult now for Northorp-Grumman, and I was coming to Turkey anyway, so they asked me to check in on some of their interests." Northrop-Grumman is one of the leading U.S. heavy military arms manufacturers. "I have a few appointments over the next couple of days at Inchirlik Airbase."

Inchirlik was a Turkish airbase not far from where the men were seated. It was much more than Turkish, though. It also hosted squadrons of U.S. and UK air force planes and flyers engaged in all sorts of missions in the Middle East, some of them clandestine.

"Ahmet here is a mechanic for jets from several countries at the airbase. He's been leant to us to acclimate ourselves to the city. We're staying at the Hilton across the river from here toward the airbase."

"A jet mechanic at the airbase?" Yusuf asked, with new interest, tearing his scrutiny away from the beautiful young mid-twenties American sitting next to him. "Do you hear that, Murat? You should strike up a friendship with this young man." And then, as an explanation for Sam, he said, "Murat isn't all that interested in carpets. He would like to be a jet mechanic too. He has many friends at the airbase."

Yes, I just bet he does, Sam thought, but he took the opportunity to get a good look at the young man claiming to be Yusuf's son. Murat was about the same age as Jason, in his mid-twenties. In contrast to Jason's blondness, Murat was dark, sultry--and, in Sam's eyes sexy. The one thing Sam and Yusuf had in common beyond the avocation they once had shared, if not always for the same masters, was that they were both power tops and had a fetish for sexy, young, submissive men. Sam had seen Yusuf's attraction to Jason immediately, but his own attract to Murat had been just as immediate.

Beyond this, Sam's discerning eye had seen that the young men had reciprocated the interest in kind. That was just fine with Sam.

"You said you were indulging in family travel as well," Yusuf said.

"Yes. My nephew here, Jason, is in seminary, in a summer break between two years at St. John Paul II minor seminary in Washington, D.C. He's preparing to be a Catholic priest."

"Is he?" the Muslim Yusuf said, giving Jason a closer look, if that had been possible. Jason smiled back.

"Yes. He has the summer off and I thought I would take him on a biblical background trip. So much of early Christianity happened here in Turkey. We first went to Ephesus, near Izmir, where we have an airbase I had consultations at. The city is a religious pilgrimage destination for Christians like Jason. The Apostle Paul preached there and there are extensive excavations of buildings back to his time. Then we went to Tarsus, not far from here, where the Apostle Paul was born. After Adana I hope, if my consultations don't take too long, to take Jason on to Antioch, the first place the inhabitants called themselves Christians and where the Patriarch of Asia sat."

"That's quite a tour. You are a lucky young man," Yusuf said, leaning over and placing a hand on Jason's knee. Neither Jason nor Yusuf were quick to move to relocate the hand. "Are you still highly interested in discovering the city now, or would you like to see my carpet shop and perhaps indulge in more coffee and conversation at my residence? Have you seen a traditional Turkish home? I've had mine restored. It isn't far away."

"That would be lovely, yes, thanks," Sam said, his eyes captured by the visage of the sexy young Turk, Murat, broadcasting a signal of interest. Murat's eyes were returning that interest.

"Perhaps you can let Ahmet return to base--after he has given Murat his contact information. Perhaps you would like to stay for dinner--to further young Jason's introduction to our country by tasting our food and experiencing a traditional Turkish residence. We even have a few young servants who can entertain us with Turkish dancing. Murat would see that you got back to the Hilton for the night. It's not far away."

"That is very gracious of you," Sam said. What he was thinking was that that wasn't nearly as hard to maneuver as he had thought it might be.

What Yusuf was thinking was, this will give me time, I hope, to figure out what in the hell this old fox is up to. He had seen Sam's attraction to Murat and thought that perhaps he would direct the young man to distract Sam--not only to neutralize the man having sought Yusuf out for some reason--and Yusuf was not fooled that this had been a coincidental meeting--but it might give Yusuf an opportunity to get at that highly alluring nephew of Sam's. A Catholic priest indeed. What a waste--and what a challenge. The lad had a roving eye, though--and one turned on Yusuf, the man could discern. A Muslim graybeard debauching a young Catholic priest. What a delicious thought.

* * * *

Yusuf's business and residence were an impressive restoration and renovation of a traditional Turkish urban residential compound for a wealthy family. The Oriental carpet shop had a forty-foot front on the busy Kizilay Caddesi, with a twenty-foot garage at the side for Yusuf's Mercedes sedan. The shop was on the ground floor and the business's offices and store rooms were on the floor above this. The residence was behind, with a center courtyard, with fountain, two wings running back thirty feet on either side, and the residence itself along the back, containing lounges and dining room downstairs and four bedrooms, with en suite baths on the second floor. Servants' rooms were in the attic above that. The wall-enclosed lot extended another fifteen feet back from the residence, providing a stone terrace with a small rectangular pool, with burbling fountain, and with a line of funeral cypresses along the back wall. The buildings were in gray stone and an atmosphere of lush traditional Turkish textiles was maintained throughout.

After the visitors had been shown around the shop, the four of them, Yusuf, Murat, Sam, and Jason were settled in facing divans in the courtyard of the residence, next to the gurgling fountain, and tea and Turkish delicacies were produced and offered by a strikingly good-looking pair of young woman and man, who Yusuf said worked both in the shop and the house. Yusuf had invited Jason to sit next to him, with Sam sitting next to Murat. Both sets of men seemed to like this arrangement just fine. Giving Sam a sly look indicating that he knew Muslims weren't supposed to drink, Yusuf added whiskey to the order, and each of the men accepted a drink--and then another--as they chatted about what had transpired, or what they wanted to say had, since Yusuf and Sam had last seen each other.

At length, the sun was dipping low, and the four had not reached any sort of an awkward stage, other than all ignoring that the leaning in and occasional touching of Yusuf and Jason and of Sam and Murat had become more frequent, with the liquor and sweets continuing. The touching had been mostly Yusuf to Jason and Murat to Sam, and it had not been rebuffed. Yusuf made a suggestion. He knew he was risking something, but he both wanted to understand better to what extent Sam showing up endangered him, and he really, really wanted to fuck this luscious young blond, Jason. He didn't seem to mind--or to observe as infatuated as he himself was with the young American blond--that Murat obviously wanted to be fucked by Sam.

"I mentioned the possibility of you staying for dinner so that Jason can experience a traditional Turkish meal," he said, "and I would be very pleased if you stayed. And, if so, why don't you just stay here rather than at the Hilton for the remainder of your stay? We have the bedrooms,"--not that Yusuf wanted to use them all--"and Murat could drive you to the airbase tomorrow for your consultations and pick you up. I could see that Jason is entertained and shown more of the Turkish culture. There are some Christian shrines in the city, if he would like to see those."

"The mechanic, Ahmet, was going to pick me up at the Hilton," Sam said. "He works on the base, so he can drive into it."

"Murat can drive you into the Inchirlik Airbase too," Yusuf said.

"Can he?" Sam said, looking at the young man sitting beside him, and who Sam had an arm around behind his back and along the top of the back of the divan.

"Yes. We have shop space in the Base Exchange and Murat has a pass to go there. I really would like him to be able to talk to that mechanic, Ahmet, more about the job of an airplane mechanic, so perhaps they could meet while you are having your consultations."

I just bet you want Murat to have more access to a base jet mechanic, Sam thought, but he also wanted more direct access to Murat himself, so the offer was advantageous--and it was something Sam had been working to achieve. "That sounds like a good plan, except that our luggage is at the Hilton."

"That's no problem," Yusuf said. "Murat can drive you to the hotel to pack and remove your luggage and check out. You could take the time you needed. Dinner won't be served for another three hours."

"That sounds fine," Sam said, giving Murat a lustful look, which he was pleased to see reciprocated. That, in fact, is perfect, he thought.

Similarly, Yusuf turned to Jason, who was looking a little hazy-eyed from the whiskey he'd had, and said, "Does that sound fine with you, son? We can discuss Turkish culture and what we do for pleasure while your uncle is gathering the luggage."

"Yes, lovely," Jason answered, with a smile.

Yusuf turned and gave Sam a searching look. He smiled when the man gave him a slight nod. Old times were returning. Sam had provided him with delicious young, blond Western men before--many years before--when Sam was running Yusuf in intelligence collection. Sam would know precisely how having a young man like Jason appear near him would set Yusuf's juices going. This visit cannot have been an accident. Sam wanted something from him. The nod he just got from Sam was license for Yusuf to indulge himself with Jason. But what was it that his old intelligence handler would want from him? Yusuf had been very careful to construct a life that was out of the game. Jason obviously was an offering. Could he risk it?

He took another look at the young blond man, reclining into the corner of the sofa, a bit glazy eyed. Jason smiled at him and Yusuf smiled back.

* * * *

As Murat and Sam left, through the shop on the street, Yusuf rose and said, "This robe is hot. I will be back in a few minutes." When he returned, he was bare-chested and wearing diaphanous billowy harem pants with an overlapping panel in front that closed with a strap around the waist. He was not a trim man nor was he young, but he was in great condition for his age, more of a Zeus in form than an Apollo. His pecs were firm and bulging, and, though his torso didn't taper, it was hard and armor-like. He was hirsute, with swirls of salt-and-pepper, mostly salt as with his wavy head hair and his mustache and beard, on his firm torso and descending to--and mostly beyond--the waistband of the harem pants. He was solidly built, but very well-built for a man of his years. He showed no embarrassment about his conditioning in front of a young man he was trying to make--nor did he need to.

He was carrying a tray, with three glasses filled with liquid, two burgundy in color and one amber, and set that on the table in front of the sofa.

Sitting down, he said, "There, that's more comfortable. If you wish to become more comfortable too, feel free."

"Thank you," Jason said, taking his jacket off and laying it, folded, on the arm of a chair beside the sofa. Underneath he was wearing a white dress shirt over tan slacks. Yusuf reached over and unbuttoned the top three buttons of Jason's shirt, saying, "I think you can get more comfortable than that." The young man didn't resist. He just smiled, looking directly into Yusuf's eyes as the elder man unbuttoned the shirt.

"There that must be cooler for you," Yusuf said. "I must say you don't look the part."

"The part?" Jason asked.

"A Catholic priest. No habit or clerical collar."

"Oh, I won't get those until next year," Jason said, with a laugh.

"Good, because you are a sexy young man dressed the way you are. It will be a great loss when you go into clerical robes."

"I can't imagine who it will be a loss to," Jason said.

"Well, surely womankind. You will have to be celibate with women."

"Hardly a loss."

There was a pause, as Yusuf sat down on the sofa next to Jason. "Not a loss? You're not saying you haven't gone with women, are you--not a handsome young, obviously fit, young man? The women must be crawling over you. They must be lamenting that you have chosen to become a Catholic priest."

"No, no women."

Yusuf turned his head to look directly into Jason's eyes. "Are you saying you go with men? Many Catholic priests do, of course." A hand went to Jason's knee, and Jason made no move to remove it.

"Many Catholic priests do, yes."

"And you, perhaps? I have been casting you interested looks; I am sure you have noticed."

"Many Catholic priests do, yes, and, yes, I have noticed your interest."

"Has Sam told you that I cover men?"

"Yes."

"Has he said you can let me cover you if you wish?"

"Yes. He told me I would be your type and that, if we were to see you in Adana while we were here and I wanted you, that would be fine with him. He said he felt he owed you favors for years past, although he didn't tell me what they were for."

"So, you are to be a gift to me?"

"It would seem so, yes."

"Just for old time's sake?"

"That's what he told me."

"And your view of that?"

"I'm sure you have seen that I returned your looks of interest. You are a very sexy man, and I am in want." To drive that home, Jason unbuttoned the rest of the buttons on his shirt and took that off his back. He now was also bare-chested and he was a smooth-bodied Apollo to Yusuf's Zeus. He reclined back into the corner of the sofa, signaling his vulnerability and openness to Yusuf's attentions. Yusuf reached over and touched one of Jason's nipples, and Jason held. Yusuf moved his hand over to caress the other one. Jason emitted a low moan.

"And do you... readily?"

"When I want; as I want."

"And you want a man's cock inside you?"

"Yes."

"Fucking you?"

"Yes."

"And did he tell you what I liked--how I liked to--?"

"The drinks you have brought out?" Jason said, gesturing to the three drinks on the tray.

"Ah, so he has told you. Perhaps we need not be long in dance of the seduction."

"True. Sam and your son may not be gone long," Jason said. "Do you wish to tell me about the drinks and why there are three?"

"Your choice. At this point, it is all by your choice," Yusuf said. "The two with the dark liquid are port wine. I will take one of these. The amber one is a white wine that contains a relaxing drug."

"A relaxing drug?"

"It is harmless and only lasts for a bit more than an hour in the amount I have put in the wine. Sam has told you so much. He must have told you that my fetish was for my young men to be conscious and sensitive to the experience, but to be completely powerless--for me to exercise all control."

"He did tell me that, yes."

"And did he tell you that part of the need for relaxation is that I'm built unusually large--that my demands are great? You have to be completely open and spread to enjoy me."

"Yes."

"And what did you think--what were your emotions--about that?"

"It excited me. It made me melt."

"If you drink that wine, I will make you melt. You will be mine for an hour to do what and as I please. You will feel and be aware of everything, but you will have no control over what is done to you. You will be stretched and taxed. So, it's your choice. Take your pick. Even if you choose the port, we can couple. It just won't be the same as if you give full control over to me. You will suffer. But perhaps you want to suffer."

"An enhancement for me, then--the white wine. But what about you? You won't enjoy any enhancement?"

"I'm an old man. I usually can manage it and hold it, but when I want to be sure, yes, I take something too. I have done so, when I left you for a few moments." With that, Yusuf undid the knot in the sash around his waist and pulled the two overlapping panels apart. He was in long, thick, magnificent erection. He had already sheathed his shaft with a condom.

"Oh, my god," Jason exclaimed. "Sam didn't lie. You're a bull."

"I can be a god for you if you'll be my slave," Yusuf murmured. The fingers of the hand he had been playing with Jason's nipples with moved down the young man's torso, to the waistband of his trousers, undoing Jason's belt.

Yusuf's hand came away from Jason's belt momentarily to take the young man's hand and to guide his fingers to Yusuf's erection. "Touch it."

Jason did so. He reached over with his other hand, took up the glass with the drugged white wine in it, and drank deeply, his eyes gazing intently into Yusuf's.