:: Him (Prelude)

" There was a game we used to play
We would hit the town on Friday night
And stay in bed until Sunday.
We used to be so free
We were living for the love we had and
Living not for reality
Just my imagination. Just my imagination. It was."

"Love isn't happiness, since it is a human feeling. Those feelings are very changing and ending. Happiness can be found in simple moments, a ray of light in winter, sitting with a close friend on a sunny morning having coffee or simply, listening to music that moves you." - Samer.

ACT I

When I first saw Him, I knew He was the one.

At least my imagination drew that to me.

When I first met Mostafa, wearing His white shirt and black water proof pants in Marriott's Bakery al Hegaz street, my 19 years old heart pushed extra shots of blood mixed with fresh adrenaline into my veins. I loved the way he smelled, walked, talked, smiled, turned, glimpsed and drank his Turkish coffee that he had ordered fifteen minutes earlier. When he felt a little bit more comfortable, he looked at me with his dreamy eyes and said:

"I am half Turkish, just like this coffee!"

I smiled, although it was a cheesy way that he used to announce his ascendance, I simply loved it. He was magical, and I fell under his spell. I slowly picked a Merit cigarette and answered:

"That explains your looks", I quickly grabbed my smokes pack and offered him one. He moved back while saying:

"No, thanks. I don't smoke. Enough both my parents do, I have plenty of tobacco in my blood. I'd rather see you stopping it as well."

I slowly inhaled the smoke and answered while blowing it out, vainly trying to form a circle:

"I like smoking."

We both went silent, sipping the hot drinks we were served. When I felt that silence was becoming heavier, because of my comment, I said:

"It was so coincidental the way we met the other day. To be honest, when I asked you for a picture on ICQ and you answered saying that you don't have one but you look sexy, I wasn't interested in you. I was like: what a smug!"

"And what do you think now?", he asked when I looked down at my Cappuccino mug.

"Quiet interesting. Charming, to be precise".

Now, I am sure that this would have charged his ego to its extreme, if I could understand back then the smile that he drew on his innocent face.

He started telling me about his family and cousins. He spoke so casually about them as if I already knew them. When we felt bored and that the café's walls were too narrow for us and being followed by the bored Sunday morning waiters, we paid the check and left.

As we were heading to his car, I noticed how inappropriate I looked next to him: back then I had that girly slutty attitude that I acquired from the entourage that I used to hang out with. I tried controlling my gestures and not swinging the small Gucci bag I was carrying.

While he was driving, he inserted Mariah Carey's tape and her exceptional voice was explaining how she was wishing to spend just one more night with her beloved one, she would risk her life just to feel his body, she would give her all. I couldn't typically relate to the song back then, but I loved the music, sadness and deep passion in the song.

"I had to slow dance that song with a girl friend of mine", he slowly said while looking at me, "I always wished I would dance it again with a guy". The idea of holding him close to me and feeling his body's touch and warmth was turning me on, while giving me a cozy feeling that I was missing and needed so much.

Soon after the song ended, his phone rang: his sister wanted him to pick her up, and that was when I was supposed to leave for that day, with all the dreams, imagination and anticipation I was having in my adolescent mind and heart. Everything tasted beautiful when I was home: music, lunch, the sun, and watching my ICQ waiting for him to come online while making sure that my cell phone is on to receive his call.

Our conversation later that night still sounds in my ears: his voice, tone and promises I felt in his conversation made me open up my heart and wish he'd be my keeper instead of all those empty barriers and filthy one nights that used to feed me.

Slowly, but surely we both were approaching each other with our daily phone calls, SMSs and innocent rush. Whenever we hung up, I was waiting for our next phone call to be showered with his words and drowned in his warmth.

Two weeks later, even though I didn't want to, I traveled with my friends to the Northern Coast and made sure he would know about it:

"Hey sweet, sorry for waking you up; I just wanted you to know that I am on my way to Marina".

"Oh, how long will you stay?", he asked me between two yawns.

"I am not sure, but three days max. We just started moving", I said while looking through the car's window at the faint morning lights, mixed with the fresh morning Cairo's humid air.

"Call me when you're there, okay?", he said with his deep sexy tone.

I called, no answer.

ACT II

Eight months elapsed, and no single phone call, SMS or even online: Mostafa just vanished. Many nights I spent thinking what could have been gone wrong, many hours I stayed staring at my ICQ list waiting for him to come online, a hundred unanswered missed calls on his mobile, thousands of lost SMSs and one broken hearted me. Foolishly I rushed into an insignificant short termed adventure with Mahmoud, during which I couldn't keep my thoughts away from Mostafa.

Mahmoud and I were shopping one day for CDs when my phone rang. As I took it out and looked at the screen, I froze. The tune kept announcing the call, vibrating my hand, mind and soul. Unfocused, I answered:

"Mostafa?"

I heard his "Allô?", and my heart started beating, with anger. I couldn't find anything to say, yet a thousand questions were rushing in my mind. I shook them all off and chilled enough I asked:

"How are you?"

I am alright, thank God, how is it going with you?"

I looked at Mahmoud and answered: "I am okay." I took a deep breath then asked: "Where have you been?"

A moment of silence that passed like eternity when he answered:

"I want to see you. Next Friday, at midnight. Is it convenient?"

I couldn't but agree.

ACT III

"There is a game I like to play
I like to hit the town on Friday night
And stay in bed until Sunday
Well always be this free
We will be living for the love we have
Living not for reality."

11:30 PM, my cell phone announced an incoming SMS. My anticipated eyes quickly rushed reading it: "Remember Cinderella?". I was with a friend when I excused and went home, waiting for him to come over. Midnight sharp, there he was with his black car waiting for me downstairs. I ran down the escalators, in great need seeing his face after a 8 months thirst.

Perfumed, stylish with a wide smile, he greeted me. Confused, irritated with eager heart, I stamped a kiss on his cheek. He drove a couple of blocks away and parked. He started talking about how things were going, how he wanted to call me but lost my number because he erased it and how happy he was when he got it back from our chat history.

"Erased?", I quickly asked.

"Yeah. I had this incident at home soon after the day you traveled. My dad picked up the phone while I was talking to some, you know, gay friend."

I had my eyes wide open, trying to think what could his father have heard.

"He told me that I've been followed by the Police, that they know that I am fag and I would be arrested if I don't take care."

"Shit!", I mumbled, "and what happened?"

He smiled then said: "Nothing, when my gran'ma came this fall, dad told her that he faked all this story to scare me!"

"Shit! Shit!"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said, along with a lot of other vocabulary!", he said while sitting more comfortable in his car seat, inviting me touch him all over, but I held my desire. I had too much anger inside of me to be melted away with a simple touch.

"Why you couldn't tell me that? Do you know how I felt?"

"Digg, I erased all numbers from my phone, removed MSN, deleted porn on my PC and remained in my room, trembling every time the door bell rang, every phone call and each suspicious person walking beside me in the street. It was a nightmare. I hate my dad for this, I really do."

I couldn't but softly pass my finger through his hair. I could imagine all the fear he had during that time, especially with all the news we used to read in every newspaper in town.

"Hey!, he quickly said, what about a round in Korba area?"

ACT IV

"There was a time I used to pray,
I have always kept my faith in love
Its the greatest thing from the man above.
The game I used to play,
I've always put my cards upon the table
Let it never be said that I'd be unstable.

Just my imagination. Just my imagination. It was."

A couple of months followed and we had our fixed Cinderella time: Friday at midnight. We talked, flirted, kissed and silently drew our future. Our passion started growing in our young hearts and it was totally controlling my mind and senses. I so wanted to do it right with him.

It was in May when we decided planing our first trip. I booked in Hilton Dahab for 10 days and we had the silent agreement of taking it all to the next level. All along the way to Sinai, we would steal a moment or two holding each other's hand, cuddling in the bus' back seat and talking about how we would plan our days.

As soon as we checked in, we hit the bed. Tired, I slept hugging him. Around sunset, and when we both started waking up, our thirsty lips crossed. Passionately, slowly, deeply and boldly we kissed for hours, making sure we would engrave every second in our memory. My fast heart beat mixed with his deep breathing were forming a wild and raw physical instinct and crave for more and intense desire.

Sweating, we slowly started undressing the few clothes we were wearing in that hot summer evening. Enormous passion in discovering each other's body and applying the almost a year hidden desire in action were controlling our actions. If I compare the amount of horniness I was expressing in that night, I would have summed all the other nights I spent with all my dates and multiplied it by a thousand to reach that level. There was something about his smell, skin, naked body, lips and my desire that made loads of Adrenaline and basic instinct flood intensively in my almost trembling body, communicating its vibes into his, melting our souls and fusing our future.

10 days of amazing sex, wonderful moments and most of all, a fake illusion of future security. I was his, and he was mine.

At least for the following three years.

If you, if you could return
Don’t let it burn, don’t let it fade
I’m sure I’m not being rude
But it’s just your attitude
It’s tearing me apart
It’s ruining everything

And I swore, I swore I would be true
And honey so did you
So why were you holding her hand
Is that the way we stand
Were you lying all the time
Was it just a game to you

But I’m in so deep
You know I’m such a fool for you
You got me wrapped around your finger
Do you have to let it linger
Do you have to, do you have to
Do you have to let it linger

Oh, I thought the world of you
I thought nothing could go wrong
But I was wrong
I was wrong
If you, if you could get by
Trying not to lie
Things wouldn’t be so confused
And I wouldn’t feel so used
But you always really knew
I just wanna be with you

And I’m in so deep
You know I’m such a fool for you
You got me wrapped around your finger
Do you have to let it linger
Do you have to, do you have to
Do you have to let it linger


- Linger, the Cranberries.