Alejandro, a young Argentinean polo player, finds the sultry hot first love he’s longed for in the cold Russian winter. When he travels to Saint Petersburg to join a private polo team, he meets Marcus, the American coach whose graceless charm is the perfect complement to his refinement. Alejandro’s first sexual experience is a first in another way for Marcus; for once, he’s with a man he doesn’t automatically eject from his life. Alejandro isn’t the only one to fall in love for the first time after their long weekend together snowed in. Before Marcus realizes it, he’s in just the sort of relationship he never wanted, and it scares him. World weary and bored, Marcus falls for the younger Alejandro utterly and completely. Then he discovers with love comes insecurity, jealousy, and fear. Only when it might be too late does Marcus realize to love someone utterly, it is also necessary to trust them completely.
Genre: FICTION / Erotica / GeneralMy Memoirs of a Gigolo series has been a hit in English and I'm certain it will be in other languages. Sales have been consistent and high. The individual volumes are often at the top of the rankings.
Marcus
From a short distance, Alejandro is still practically perfect in every way. Whether or not he retains that sublime charisma and almost laughable naivety that has been more attractive than his Adonis-like beauty, is an unknown. What is evident on this summer day with its mackerel sky and glistening humidity is that Alejandro is no less lovely than he was on the day he ceased being my lover.
It is across that stretch of Kentucky bluegrass, grown at an inconceivable expense under the equatorial sun, that I watch my former lover. Alejandro is on the back of a tight and svelte thoroughbred bay named Cassandra, which was a gift from me to him. As Alejandro puts Cassandra through her paces, I silently reminisce about the last time I laid eyes on him. That particular memory, which contains a large dose of bitterness and acrimony, doesn’t conjure feelings that match my mood on this sultry mid-summer morning. What makes me smile is thinking of the day of Alejandro’s twenty-fourth birthday. The day I gave him Cassandra. It’s been six months, but I remember every detail…
* * * *
We are in Argentina. Alejandro wants to show me his home. It’s January, but that’s summer in Argentina. Alejandro booked the tickets. He packed our bags. I don’t know why I resisted… Actually I do. The level of intimacy between us has passed to a point where we live our lives together. He knows what kind of jam I like on my toast and makes sure it’s always in the kitchen. This is not what I ever wanted in a relationship, but here I am. I have a man throwing out my threadbare T-shirts, and then claiming he has no idea where they’ve gone and buying me strawberry rhubarb jam.
