The Legend of the Ditto Twins (46 page)

"You
are very good teachers," he decided. "Now you will next teach us to
be excellent bottom boys?"

A dozen
tokes later, Libor reached for the condoms.

I shook
my head. "Not yet. How would a superstar begin?"

Libor
nodded. "Ah, yes."

Embracing
Pavol, he instigated an open-mouthed kiss that prompted contrapuntal sighs. They
didn't seem to be acting anymore. Slowly, I lifted Libor's hands off his
friend's back and slid them downward. Moaning, he began to knead the flesh he
found, but they didn't stop kissing.

I moved
behind Pavol. "Why don't you lie down on the bed now?"

Now more
than a little stoned, Pavol found the mattress and fell onto it, face down. As
glazed as his partner, Libor took in the sight with new eyes. Without
prompting, he knelt to examine his friend's upended buttocks.

"Taste
them." whispered Clark.

Without a
word, Libor obeyed. From the sound released by Pavol, you would have thought
he'd been hit by a car. Obviously, he had not been expecting this, so I moved
quickly to his side and stroked his hair.

"A
wonderful surprise?" I murmured.

"Different."
Pavol gasped.

"No
talk. Just enjoy it."

It wasn't
long before he was doing just that.

Clark
eased toward Libor, "Would you like to be to be inside him?"

Libor
gasped something that sounded affirmative.

I
continued stroking
Pavol's
hair. "Just relax and
enjoy this till you are ready... let him know when you want him."

It wasn't
long before Pavol rasped, "Fuck me! Now!"

I handed
him a condom. "Why don't you put it on Libor...?"

"Yes,
yes," he muttered, grabbing it and spinning around on his knees to find Libor's
waiting erection. Frantically, he sheathed it and shifted to all fours.

As Libor
moved into position, I could hear Clark's soft suggestions. "Don't rush.
Let him find you..."

Little by
little, Pavol edged back, taking Libor's erection until it had vanished
completely inside him.

"Maybe
this would be a good time to thank him," whispered Clark. "Not with
words."

Instantly,
Libor collapsed atop Pavol, found his lips, and they began
to kiss. The kissing, of course, fueled their fervor,
and the fucking began, slowly at first, but it wasn't long before they were
going at it like virgins in a cathouse.

After a
long bout of anal action, during which we guided them through as many positions
as we knew, Libor muttered something guttural. It sounded like: "I'm close."

"I,
too," growled Pavol.

"Would
you like to see each other come?" I asked.

With
affirmative moans, Pavol rolled over to face Libor who straddled him, ripped
off the rubber, and aimed his erection at his friend. Soon, Pavol was sprayed
with Libor's release, but the next thing I knew, he had leaned forward to take
Libor's dick back in his mouth. Someone gasped "Yes!" as Libor
swiveled around to find
Pavol's
erection and swallow
it, too. We never saw
Pavol's
orgasm. But we knew he
had one.

Once the
magic glow had subsided, however, the two friends started to move apart,
rattled and confused.

"No,
no, now comes the best part..."

“...when
you thank each other..."

“...but
not with words."

With growing
ardor, they kissed each other for quite awhile. By the time they stopped, Clark
and I had lit our Marlboros and were smiling as smugly as they were.

"Superstars!"
In unison. "Regular superstars."

"You
are very good teachers."

"Would
you like to shower before you leave?" I asked.

They
nodded. Libor held out his hand, Pavol took it, and they went off to the
bathroom to shower together.

The next
morning, when we walked into the dining room, Pavol and Libor, now dressed
casually, looked even hotter than they had in their suits, though their
loose-fitting jeans (and underwear, no doubt) kept their packages hidden. It
didn't matter; we knew they weren't eunuchs.

Pavol and
Libor drove the equipment van, and in the limo, Lily did most of the talking.
She didn't stop when we turned into a long, curving drive and first saw the
villa.

"This
is a villa?" she asked. "It looks like a farmhouse. Is 'villa' Czech
for farmhouse?"

"Who
cares? It's fuckin perfect," gushed Jay. "There's a timeless quality
about it, Ed. It could be American, it could be European. Just what I
wanted."

"Thought
you'd like it. C'mon, I'll show you around."

Riggs stepped
out of the limo as the van pulled up beside us, and Pavol and Libor began to
unload it.

"They're
going to work on the movie?" I asked Jay.

"As
grips." He turned and pointed. "Oh, my God! Look at that barn!
Perfect! Ed, how did you find this place?"

"An
acquaintance in the diplomatic corps. A fan."

"How
much is it gonna fuckin cost us?" asked Clay.

"Nothing.
The usual. He gets to watch."

Jay
nodded. "No problem, as long as he stays out of the way and doesn't
fuckin' touch the merchandise."

"That
won't be a problem. He's very conservative."

"And
cows!" Jay yelped. "Look, guys! Oh, we'll have to film the fuckin'
cows. As an homage to your mom and dad."

Laughing,
we entered the villa through a side door. It could have been a house we grew up
in, yet it had an old-world charm about it that made it interestingly ordinary.
We moved down a short corridor into the kitchen, which—like our life—was a
curious combination of past and present. A wrought-iron stove stood next to a
microwave.

Jay was
practically drooling. "Fuckin perfect, Ed."

"Well,
you have the run of the place. Six bedrooms."

Upstairs,
Jay selected the largest one to be our bedroom in the film and the smallest one
to be our bedroom in real life. As we entered the latter, Pavol was emerging,
and our luggage was already at the foot of the bed.

"Hey,
we could have done that," we said.

Pavol
smiled politely. "No. Today, that is my job."

Later, we
were helping Lily set up her make-up table in an adjacent anteroom when we
heard a car honk.

Jay moved
to the window and waved. "It's Phil. The cameraman." He looked again.
"Oh, shit. He's alone."

"I
thought he was bringing..." said Clay.

"So
did I," groaned Jay.

Burdened
down with camera, suitcase, and backpack, Phil was another muscular, masculine
peasant in jeans and parka, half-unzipped to reveal a forest of chest hair. Jay
made the introductions. Phil appraised us.

"So
you are Jay's cheeky Golden Boys," he said in the crisp tones of a born
and bred Englishman. "Ah, yes, you will photograph well. The camera will
love you."

"Be
nice to him," chuckled Jay. "He can make you look magnificent. Or he
can make you look like shit."

"Aren't
you going to introduce me?" Lily had joined us.

"Sorry,
Dear Heart. This is Phil. Best fuckin' cameraman I've ever worked with."

"My
pleasure." He nodded, but it was more like a bow.

Lily
curtsied. "Wow! Are you British?"

"I
fear not,
luv
. Merely another Czech peasant."

"But
'Phil' doesn't sound like a peasant."

"Actually,
it's
Filip
—with an F.
Filip
Novak. But I did study at Oxford—for two years."

"What
happened to the other two? I mean, it's none of my business, but..."

"No
problem. Liquor got in the way. I was sent down. But—I have been clean and
sober for over a decade now." He turned to Clay. "I prefer to clear
the air right off. Yes? And now shall we talk about something less
tiresome?"

"Yeah,
we'd better," replied Jay. "I thought you were bringing up the models
for tomorrow."

"
Ladislav
and Petri" groaned Riggs. "Oh,
God."

"Indeed,"
replied Phil. "I arranged to pick them up, but the little tart at
Petrs
flat explained they were both taken to hospital last
night. Too much
Special K.
I didn't have the number here and Ed's cell phone must have
been turned off."

Riggs
slammed a fist into the wall. "
Goddammit
,
they'll never work in this town again!" Reaching for his cell phone, he
turned to Jay. "I'll take care of this."

"Excuse
me," we interrupted. In unison.

"Couldn't
Pavol and Libor play..."

“...the
farmhands? They're both very hunky."

Amazed,
Riggs shook his head. "Oh, I don't think so. I promised Jay I'd get him
the best we have. Pavol and Libor, they're great workers—but still a little
green. Not real comfortable with the gay thing yet."

"I
don't know. You should have seen them last night."

The room
went dead, as if someone had turned off the sound.

Jay was
the first to speak. "Why, you little fuckers!"

"Relax,
Jay." In unison.

Quickly,
we related (in graphic detail) the events of the preceding evening, of their amazing
request and, without mentioning the marijuana, of the workshop we had conducted
with such success. Again, there was total silence.

Finally,
Riggs spoke. "Pavol actually said, 'Fuck me!'?"

That
evening, we had just finished our shower and were drying each other off when
there was a knock at the door of our tiny little real-life bedroom. When we
were informed, in hushed voices, who our late-night visitors were, we didn't
bother to dress.