Little Butterfly

Paul met with Ivan in a gay club on Saturday night. He came home next morning all exited and upbeat.

I wanted to know everything about his first date with Ivan. For the last eleven months all my sexual discussions and fantasies had been around Paul’s personal life. Today it was different, however. I had a lover of my own, and I was ready to share experiences. After all, Paul and I were best friends and best confidants for each other.

This is Paul’s story, very slightly edited. I have tried to find the proper substitute for his constant use of the word “fuck.” I actually checked the meaning of the work “fuck” in Wikipedia, and here is what I found: “Fuck is an English word that is generally considered profane which, in its most literal meaning, refers to the act of sexual intercourse. However, by extension it may be used to negatively characterize anything that can be dismissed, disdained, defiled, or destroyed.”

But Ivan and Paul definitely did not defile or destroy anything so far. So, I will use the phrase “making love” instead of the profane word “fuck.”

This is Paul’s story edited by me:

When we first met, Ivan sounded pretty tired, and I thought maybe he did not find me attractive. His jacket was tightly buttoned, and he looked more like he was going to a business meeting than to a gay night club.

To my surprise, he already had a reserved table waiting for us. Ivan was no stranger in this club; in fact, it sounded as though he knew a lot of the guys. What if he did make love to some of these guys? So what? Life was beautiful, and I was ready to enjoy it without analyzing it.

I ordered a glass of wine, and Ivan ordered a straight up shot of vodka. He started with one and then kept ordering more and more. I was afraid that he would get really drunk, but to my surprise he did not. Later, Ivan shared with me one of his many secrets on how not to get drunk. His recipe was very simple: just do not mix drinks and do not drink on an empty stomach. He was living proof that this works, since he probably had around 15 shots of vodka and was OK.

First we talked about gay rights organizations that he and I actively supported, and then our conversation moved to the recent Oscar Nominations. I was shocked to find out that Ivan saw almost all the Oscar-nominated movies, and when I asked how he found the time, he replied that movies had always been his passion and he watched almost every movie he could find; he also read three newspapers a day and compared their treatment of the news. (Christian Science Monitor, L.A. Times and N.Y. Times). I listened to his political comments with great interest. He struck me as an intelligent and cultured person, and for a moment I felt even a little intimidated by him. All of a sudden he changed the topic and started talking about his acquaintances with different Hollywood celebrities (supposedly known by me) and his personal relations with them. He spoke so fast and with such a heavy accent, mixing English words with Hollywood slang, that I had a hard time understanding him. I decided just to let him talk. He was probably getting drunk, and this was the only one way he showed it, I thought.

Finally, Ivan decided that the small talk was over and he could relax and enjoy himself.

He took off his jacket and revealed (to my surprise) a very tight, almost see-through pink shirt. Now he looked just right for a Hollywood gay club. His shirt was so tight that I could almost see the contours of his perfect body. God was definitely gay, and he probably looked like Ivan, I thought for a moment. The slow jazzy music started, and we joined the dancing crowd. Our bodies embraced for the first time and I felt as though an electric shock passee all over me. Our faces touched and we fell into a long passionate kiss. I felt his full lips, his milky white skin and soft yellow blond hair. We were dancing and kissing; then he softly whispered in my ear with his sexy Russian spy accent: “I only want to be with you now and always. Your kiss is so delicious and the sounds of your voice are like music to my ear. For this moment you my joy and all for me. I am jealous of you.”

His words were like dialogue from an old foreign movie. I wanted to “make love” to him right away on the dance floor. I was definitely losing control, and I started taking his shirt off, but he stopped my hand and whispered in my ear, “I don’t think this club is ready for my naked body, but I can assure you that my body has some wonderful parts which I would love to show you later in my apartment.” “Sounds good to me,” I replied. “Are we ready to go?” “Sure,” replied Ivan, “I just want to finish our dance. You are such a good dancer.” And he was right, we were dancing beautifully. We defiantly looked like a hot couple, and a lot of guys were checking us out. Ivan was a hot blond Russian, and I was a dark-haired Brazilian.

That night I learned a lot about Ivan’s body. I been introduced to a small tattoo at his left thigh that said “Little Butterfly.” We “made love” so hard that we turned his apartment into a “no-fly zone.” In the middle of the night, naked, I went to the bathroom, and to my surprise I found a skinny guy in glasses sitting on the toilet and reading a book. I was shocked, but he did not show any sign of emotion and continued to read. When I told Ivan about my restroom encounter, he said that this was his roommate Allan, a UCLA medical student. He was apparently very quiet and studied all the time, and they didn’t have much interaction with each other. He didn’t even notice strange naked guys in his apartment? “Well, don’t worry about him,” laughed Ivan, “He is writing a research paper on ‘Increasing heterosexuality among homosexuals’.” “I don’t think you are a good subject for him.” “Probably not, but nevertheless we live very peacefully together. He has accepted my lifestyle, and I don’t care about his ideas. I even gave him an original idea to improve his own lifestyle, namely, how to turn hemp milk to marijuana. Allan is a big fan of marijuana and constantly complains that it is too expensive.

When I was ready to go home, I finally realized that Ekaterina the Great (Ivan’s dog) was not present. Paul explained me that Ekaterina the Great was visiting her girlfriend in Orange County and that he would pick her up later today.

I gave Ivan a kiss and promise to call him next week. As I was driving home, I repeated “Little Butterfly” over and over.