luciddrugs:motleypatches:The TrystThe first time they met, they knew. Their boyhood furtive readings
luciddrugs:motleypatches:The TrystThe first time they met, they knew. Their boyhood furtive readings of Aristophanes’ myth was true. There were always minds to change in parliament, revolutions to incite abroad, and yet-They could pretend to be strangers. Borrow a light, a cigarette case, and let their fingers touch in the smoke. It was never enough. They keep themselves fastidiously to themselves and by mutual agreement, their circles do not cross.The meetings are always accidents at the appointed time and at the appointed place, access granted by a mutual acquaintance. “A surprise,” Charles always said. “A pleasure,” Erik would reply. They were two old friends, long time apart, sitting down to a meal, to wine, to conversations of war and politics that lasted into the night until all the cabs were gone from the street and Erik had missed his train.“I’ve a room,” Charles would offer.“Yes,” Erik answered, all gracious assent.And in the privacy of that room, in the presence of each other, memories of longing and of absence were erased and even waiting became a pleasure. Silence replaced words when they were together and whole.Are you writing this? You should be writing this! Especially in that language!You mean the story where Erik’s a socialist anarchist and Charles is a Labour politician in early 20th Britain and they conduct their highly illegal homosexual affairs in the Diogenes Club? Or the one about mutant-human politics in the same era? It is…under consideration for writing, but I wrote the vignette so it’s not so pressing.BTW, any plot I post here is up for grabs if anyone wants it. -- source link
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