But before I opened the meeting places in the Big City - this was in October 1967 - I made two acquaintances here, not far from my home, in our small Suburb.
Once I went to sunbathe in the park, there was a clearing where people usually sunbathed. I tried to be near sunbathing guys, men. On that day, too, I lay down so that I could see two sunbathers. One was older, about twenty-seven, with a beard and mustache, and the other was young, probably twenty, tanned, with body hair and an athletic figure. I liked the athletic one , but I attracted the attention of the other, the one with the beard. We started looking at each other.
Soon the young one left (probably the older one sent him away), and I immediately moved with my sunbathing blanket closer to the older one - I don’t remember under what pretext. Immediately everything became clear, our bodies began touching. His name was Vladimir. He was a teacher of mineralogy at the Mining High School. Mustache, beard ... he looked like a mixture of Nicholas II and Limonov. The body was completely smooth, without a single hair.
In a word, I did not like him, but I hoped that finally through him I would get to know people from this circle, i.e. I will be introduced to more suitable people for me. We walked for a long time (it was during white nights), kissed on the mouth. I was disgusted by it, there was the feeling of a soft sponge sticking to my face. In addition, he kept talking some intellectual nonsense all the time - about the Aryan race, about its superiority, about the Slavs, Russians, Germans. He presented me with an illustration by Čiurlionis (Lithuanian avant-garde artist), gave me Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra. But all this was later, and before that, one day he came to me - so we agreed - when I had no one at home. He had a cream with him, we lay down on the sofa, he greased my ass and fucked me once. In general, it was like the first time, it could be counted "for real". I even groaned in pain.
Objectively, everything in him was good - good figure, he was tall and had regular features, a big dick, not from faggot environment, but rather, he was "walking alone". However his type of a gentile intellectual did not appeal me at all. I no longer wanted another fuck with him and dodged it under various pretexts. I often called him, tried to arrange a meeting somewhere where his friends would be.
Once it happened. He invited me to the Metropol restaurant. At the table there were some men (all straight - I did not know this word then) and women. It seems it was the first time I was in a restaurant like this with strangers, and I felt awkward and insecure. I quickly got drunk from a small amount of alcohol. Suddenly, a quarrel broke out. I remember that his friends berated him, Vladimir. And I remember that he was strongly reproached for something. It seemed to me that they reproached him for seducing young guys (meaning me, or what?). Seizing the moment, I ran out of the restaurant. I rushed to my house. On the way in the suburban train I met a school friend, we stood in the vestibule, smoked, talked, and I calmed down.
Then this Vladimir asked me to return Zarathustra. I returned the book. Well, the painting by Čiurlionis that he presented, or rather, an illustration, lay around at our house for a long time, then the glass frame on it cracked. I think it's still in the house somewhere. Here it is:
Čiurlionis. Truth.
Vladimir Sh. died a long time ago. But, thanks to the Internet, after more
than half a century, I found a photograph of him, where he is together with
colleagues in geology, mineralogy at the department of the Precambrian era. All
this was so long ago, as if indeed in the era of the Precambrian. Vladimir:
