That was forty years ago, in the early 70s. I traveled every day by suburban train to lectures at the institute. In those days, faggots scoured trains, moving from one car to another, looking for some guy to sit down against and do something about. The figure of one fagot, ridiculously dressed - in a blue cloak, with a lot of jackets peeking out from under one another, and with a "hood" on his head, caught my attention. His face was wrinkled, flabby, although then he was only about twenty-six years old.
Once, standing in the vestibule, we started talking. And then, for many years, we met, talked, but for a long time I did not know his name and who he was. Called him "The Singer" (or La Cantatrice). Much later, when we became closer friends, and the Singer came to visit us, a problem arose: what is his real name? Somehow I figured it out.
The “Singer” sang in the choir of the Kirov (now the Mariininsky) Theater, earned miserable pennies there, and I remember that he even had to eke out his living delivering telegrams to apartments ... He was always without a penny, right up to Perestroika. True, this lack of money was morally compensated by regular trips abroad, including to Western countries. But in foreign countries, the little money that was given to Soviet artists on tour he spent mainly on porn magazines, on visiting porn cinemas ...
The Singer is a very gifted person. Besides the fact that he had a great bass, he was good at drawing. He could paint the walls of public toilets in such a way that people noticed them ... and jerked off at some drawings... He only graduated from the first year of the architectural institute. He quit, like many gays, they could not study, because sexual drive interfered with the studies. And this passion was simply breathtaking. One day I accompanied him to the station. It was a late December evening, the moon was shining. He exclaimed:
- Oh, if you knew how I want to fuck!
The “Cantatrice” idolized men. Was not a dick addict, like many, but worshiped - how should I put it? - "male spirit". Once he said that “the greatest punishment for a faggot is to end up in a women's prison” ... He adored men's asses (fetish!), He was keen to get into them - and he got into them with his fingers and tongue.
Once he found a toilet where a hole in the wall was at the back, and from there it was clearly visible how young guys shit, how shit falls out of their asses. He often walked in the area where, after evening drinks, guys and men fell asleep, lying insensible. He put his fingers in their assholes, licked all the places, and fucked one of them in the ass right on the wasteland!
The Singer had a lot of energy in the sense that he could leave the house early in the morning and return late, having done a long route in a day: visit several baths (they joked about him: “you will wash off all your skin”), make a round of public toilets with glory holes, try to meet somewhere along the way, accidentally fuck in some place and in the evening still have time to work in the theater, sing his part in the choir.
By the way, thanks to a strong operatic voice (bass), he once managed to get rid of a molesting hooligan. Once he went to a remote toilet on the outskirts of the city, where it was completely deserted. But he waited for a guy to come in. They did something. After that, the guy began to behave aggressively, bullying followed. Then the Singer screamed so that the villain got scared off. His scream was amplified by the resonance effect of the tiled walls of the toilet, and the bully, who did not expect this, was taken aback and ran away.
Later, we became closer. The singer began to visit me regularly. We even had a day appointed for this. He brought slides, a projector, showed us pictures from his trips abroad. By the end of the 70s, he grew bolder in his tours abroad and began to independently snoop around various hot spots, get to know people. He spent money on porn.
These porn magazines and photographs taken from them (hetero, with women) were used to seduce the straights. Then pornography was very rare, and showing a straight guy pictures of fucking with women caused him strong sexual arousal. Once the following happened: The singer on the railway platform showed some young man a porn magazine. He snatched it from his hands and jumped down onto the railroad tracks. It was in April, when everything around was flooded with water from melting snow. The singer also jumped down and began to chase this young man. In the end he grabbed the magazine from him, brought from abroad at great risk, but, jumping along the ditches, got wet to the waist ...
He easily accosted guys. Sometimes he will stop someone, talk. Evening, area of new buildings:
Do you see how many windows are lit up? – the Singer would tell him. - And now everyone is fucking there!
A hint that we're the only ones who don't fuck. And immediately he took out cards with straight porn. It worked!
Another time he came to us late. Where were you, we asked. - While riding in the train, I picked up a guy, we fucked under your platform ...
The Singer also had love - strong and passionate and, it seems, the only one. However, it was only platonic. It was Vasily, a stage worker from the same theatre. A handsome Russian guy, a kind face, a wonderful figure, a juicy ass ... For several years he went to visit him, was well received by Vasily’s family. It happened that he stayed overnight with him, and they slept in the same bed. But he didn't even touch him. Oh, Vasily could do a favor and aqllow the Singer to suck him off and lick ass! After all, he knew what The Singer wanted and why he suffered so much. He still remembers Vasily, decades later, in his flat there are stacks of his photographs ...
Those days are over. And we met twenty-five years later. It was no longer the same "Singer", but a respectable and handsome gentleman. It seemed to me that with age he began to look better than then, in the 70s. The change in the system in Russia opened up new opportunities for him. His good voice was finally appreciated. He began to travel to different countries, get contracts in famous theaters ... He lived abroad for a long time. Now he is retired.
However, our friendship somehow did not resume, although there was a desire to renew it on both sides. Not the right time, and we are different. I was even reluctant to ask how he now lives.
