E&M wed, 4, AZ bench, go low. Cecil
It had been over a year since Trevor Madison had heard from Arif, but a day hadn't gone by that he didn't think of the man. This message Trevor received was evidence Arif hadn't forgotten about him either. It probably would have been best if they'd both moved on, Trevor realized. He'd never quite figured Arif out or his need for secrecy like this. Like this text that came in on his smartphone but had come up as not deliverable when he tried to reply.
He understood what Arif was telling him to do--and Arif had always been dominant and Trevor had done whatever Arif told him to do. "E&M wed," gave a date, four days from now by way of the wedding anniversary date of mutual friends of Trevor and Arif in Amsterdam, where all four of them had been studying at the Keizer Culinair culinary institute at the time. The date reference, in the coding Arif had insisted on for their communications since Trevor had come to London and Arif had gone to "who knows?" also pinned down the location as Amsterdam. "4" presented the time to meet. "AZ" was the Artis Zoo in Amsterdam, where Trevor and Arif had hooked up before in their somewhat strange rare connection since the culinary school.
They had met at a specific bench at the zoo. "Go low" was telling Trevor to latch onto someone in Amsterdam who would house and feed him to keep him off the radar there, if possible. The one way to do that, of course, was to hook up with some sugar daddy for sex. Arif didn't care if Trevor went under other men as long as he laid down for Arif whenever Arif wanted it. The "Cecil" signoff was establishing both that it was Arif and that Arif didn't want his true name being used.
Despite the cloak-and-dagger secrecy, the connection between Trevor and Arif was purely sexual--at least from Trevor's point of view--and had no particular reason to be as secret as it was. Trevor had no problem identifying as gay and Arif as dominant. Arif's life had become so secret from Trevor, though, that, as far as Trevor knew, perhaps the man had a jealous wife and ten children. To Trevor, it was quite simple. Arif was a master and Trevor was his sex slave, even though they rarely connected. Trevor's slavery to the Arab was constant.
Trevor couldn't be sure even that "Arif" was the man's real name. It was the name he used when they were studying at the Keizer Culinair. Trevor didn't know if the man had already gone into some sort of secrecy obsession then or if it had happened later. When Arif started insisting on such convoluted means to meet, Trevor had thought the idea was sort of kicky. Now he wondered just why it had to be like this--or, rather, he would wonder that if Arif hadn't made quite clear that he couldn't be even thinking about that--not if he wanted to writhe under Arif the next time they could hook up.
And Trevor did want to writhe under Arif; he was lost to the man. He lived for the next tryst. So, he was locked into this game, if it was a game.
He had read the text while on break in the kitchen of the London restaurant he worked in. He'd worked up to the position of head chef. The restaurant was doing well and he was training two chefs to be able to run the kitchen when he wasn't there.
He went into the restaurant owner's office. "You have a minute, Howard?"
"Of course," the restauranteur answered. "The butcher order came in on time, I hope."
"Yes, it did. It's about the training in the kitchen."
"I hope Nadia and John aren't cutting it."
"No, just the opposite. I think Nadia is at the point that she should go solo in charge in the kitchen for a week and that John probably could too. They could split the shifts as far as taking the lead. I think I need to back out and not be there to lean on for a while. They need to fly solo long enough to see if there's something they can't handle yet. If they work together, they should make up for what the other shows they can't do. I also have an invitation to go up to Edinburgh for a week. I'd like to suggest--"
"Sure, that sounds like a good idea," Howard cut in. "You need the time off too. Go for it. I'll watch them from here. I'm sure it will work out great."
As he walked back to the kitchen, dialing the Eurostar number, Trevor had no idea why he'd told Howard he was going to Edinburgh when he was going to the continent instead. This secrecy game Arif insisted on playing was rubbing off on him. By the time he'd reached the kitchen, he'd reserved a seat on the Eurostar train from London's St. Pancras station to Amsterdam Centraal, crossing the channel in the Chunnel, two days hence.
He started to contemplate booking a hotel room as well by phone, but he remembered the "go low" instruction. He'd have to try to pick up a sugar daddy while on the train. That didn't particularly bother him. He was young, good-looking, and fit. He'd never had trouble picking up men before. And he did it often. He liked the variety and the lack of commitment.
Arif was the only one Trevor would always go running to if he beckoned.
* * * *
"Go low," Arif's message had said. What that meant to Trevor was that he should be off the radar in Amsterdam. No hotel room, no restaurant charges. Amsterdam is known to have more rent-boys in it than any other city in the world. Trevor had paid his way at the Keizer Culinair school in this way. As he never had a problem attracting a john, his Amsterdam experience gave him confidence that he had what it took to be a rent-boy--at least then. Since becoming an established chef at a good restaurant in London, he hadn't had to do that. He'd had hookups and short-term boyfriends, none of which compared with Arif, which was why he was dropping everything and answering the call, but he hadn't had to sell his body for the last few years.
He hadn't forgotten how to hook up or lost his looks and form, though. Casual sex was a big party of his lifestyle. He didn't give sex for money now, but he did go with well-heeled older men for expensive activities and gifts.
Thus, when he dressed to take the Eurostar to Amsterdam, he dressed in his "look at me" tight jeans and form-fitting T-shirt and arrived at the station early enough to be in the departure hall for more than a half hour and to sit in a prominent location. The bandana signal that had been popular for years wasn't known by everyone still, but he employed it anyway, tying a navy-blue bandana around his right thigh. The custom was that this advertised a seeking bottom. It often worked for him, because he wanted to attract older men who were active when it was employed as a signaling device. To add to that he clipped a key chain fob to one of his belt loops in front that showed two interlocking male sex symbols in silver. For those looking for this signal, silver represented a seeking bottom and gold would be declaration of a top.
The combination of all of this worked. Three men showed interest in him in the London train station as they waited for the train to pull out at its 9:01 am scheduled time. Two of the men were middle aged, and only one of these looked like someone Trevor could get it up for in a long-weekend tryst in Amsterdam. The third guy was good-looking, beefy, and fit. He also was stylishly and expensively outfitted. So, it was this guy Trevor made eyes for as they waited to embark on the train, and he was gratified to see that the guy made eyes right back at him.
When the train pulled out of the station for the five-hour journey to the Netherlands, Trevor's luck held. The seat next to him was empty, and, as the train chugged toward the Chunnel, the younger guy who had shown interest in him, dropped into that seat.
Trevor had saved some of his signaling and now brought that to bear. As the early-thirties man, good-looking, trim but well-muscled, dressed casually in dark-blue jeans, a light-blue jacket over a white polo shirt, and canvas loafers without socks, sat down, Trevor pulled out a copy of the
Elska
LGBT fashion magazine and a glossy copy of the
Gay Guide to Amsterdam
and let them rest on his lap. The dark-haired, Mediterranean-olive complexioned, foxy-looking guy couldn't help but notice. He smiled in assurance of correctly gauging Trevor's signals.
"Your first trip to Amsterdam?" he asked.
