Part Nine
Building Trust

It being a Saturday, the large public pool was crowded. Trenton resigned himself to not being able to really practice, and knew he'd have to get his serious training in on weeknights, when it would be quieter.

Anatole sat on the edge of the pool, dangling his legs in the water and watching the young American disport himself. Trenton moved like he'd been born in the water, as if it were his natural element. You'd almost expect a great, shining fishtail in place of those long muscled, strong legs.

Trenton swam over, cutting cleanly through the water, and hoisted himself up to sit beside Anatole. "You aren't gonna swim?"

"Not today. I've just enjoyed watching you." Trenton pulled off his bathing cap, shaking loose his curls. "Why do you wear that hideous rubber thing?"

"First off, it helps cut down on drag. Second..." He blushed. "My... uh, my friend, Clive--he's my hairdresser. He'd skin my butt if I let the chlorine damage my hair."

"And you do what Clive tells you?"

The blush deepened. "Yeah, pretty much."

Interesting. *I think, perhaps, you are susceptable, Trenton. Bon. We shall see tonight.*

They spent the rest of the afternoon at the Paris zoo. Anatole delighted in the simple joy that Trenton took in this expidition. At the big cats exhibit, Trenton seemed most fascinated by the American mountain lion. He leaned against the rail, staring down into the enclosure, lively green eyes tracking the beast as it swaggered about its pen. "You like this one, eh?"

"Pumas are kewl. He reminds me of Clive. Clive's hair is just about that color, and he moves like that. Kinda just glides. Got the attitude, too. He's large, and in charge. The lion's s'posed to be the king of beasts? Fuck that."

*Clive again. What on earth was this Clive thinking of, little one? Letting you out of his grasp for an entire year. Ah, well, his loss, my gain.*

They moved on to the small animals exhibit. At the otter pond, Anatole pointed to one small gold-brown animal frolicking in the water. It spiraled and flipped, seemingly boneless, flashing through the water. "Look, Trehn-tonne. There, that is you."

"Yeah?" He grinned. "Wish I could swim like that." As he spoke the otter oozed out of the water and leaped on another otter. They began rolling on the ground, thrashing and squealing. Alarmed, Trenton cried, "Shit! They're fighting! Call the zookeeper!"

"Calme vous-même."

"Whataya mean, calm? They're gonna kill each other!"

"Trehn-tonne, they are not fighting."

"But they..." He looked closer at the animals, and a huge blush spread up his cheeks. "Oh. Oh geez, I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be."

"It's just... all that noise. It sounded like they were hurting each other."

"It is that way sometimes. You are always quiet when you fuck?"

Trenton jerked, staring at Anatole. But the older man was looking at him with a bland, open expression. *Crap, what am I gonna say to that? I don't want to look like a stupid fucking virgin. Which is what I am.*

Suddenly Trenton could almost taste the acrid burn of black coffee, and he heard Clive's amused voice echoing through his mind. *Silly move, Trenton. When you're inexperienced about something, it's better to confess it than to try and bull ahead and fool someone.*

Trenton looked down at his hands, working on the guard rail, and mumbled, "I wouldn't know." Trent was relieved when Anatole's only answer was a hum.

Anatole wanted to stop at a drugstore on the way home. Trenton skimmed through the magazines while he waited for his new friend to make his purchases. Wow, they had the adult magazines out here instead of behind the counter, like back in the states. They were on the top shelf of the rack, and there were decency screens that only showed the titles at the top.

His glance fell on one title. 'Chaud et Dur.' He glanced around quickly. No one was watching. He slipped the magazine out of the rack and placed it inside an open magazine on sports, then the riffled the pages quickly.

He had known these sort of magazines existed. Well, rumor had it that they did, anyway. His friends at school had passed around a few skin mags, but they were nothing but women. Trenton had felt mild interest, and had pretended the same sort of drooling reaction his friends had shown. But this...

Nothing but men, either naked or barely dressed. And it wasn't just nude portraits. In some of these, they were touching each other--really touching. Trent came to a centerfold, and carefully unfolded it.

He almost moaned. *Holy shit! Those guys are doing it! I mean, they're not just posing there. Gah, doesn't that hurt? I dunno, the look on his face... I don't think that's pain...*

"Do you want that?" Trenton gasped, hands closing convulsively on the paper, turning to see Anatole standing behind him, paper bag in hand. "Really, Trehn-tonne, be careful. If you tear it, you must buy it." He gestured at the magazine. "If you do not have money with you, I will pay." He smiled a little crookedly. "For both of them."

"No, thanks. I was just curious." He stuffed them back in the rack.

Anatole's eyes twinkled. "En dépit du proverbe, la curiosité ne détruit pas toujours le chat. What would you like for supper tonight?"

Chloe had left for her friend's house when they arrived, and the Bienvenues were preparing to leave. Mrs. Bienvenue pressed a kiss on her son's cheek. "We will be late, my love. The Cloisonelles wish to visit a new club, and they may very well wish to close it down."

"Enjoy yourself, maman."

Mrs. Bienvenue glanced at the exchange student, who was fiddling with the radio, most likely looking for American rock and roll. She whispered, "I am glad you like him, Anatole. He is a sweet boy, and I think he has been lonely."

Anatole smiled, and assured her, "He will not be anymore." Trenton had found some music to his liking, and had begun to dance. It was subdued, only subtle shifting of his hips and shoulders, feet barely moving. Anatole watched the minute swaying of his tight ass, encased in clinging denim. "I will see to that."

That evening Anatole watched as Trenton devoured a huge bowl of onion soup and half a loaf of bread. "Honestly, Trehn-tonne, where do you put it? And you scarcely have a spare ounce on you."

"Naturally high metabolism, plus the swimming. I get it from my dad. He ate like a Clydsedale, never exercised, and was a rail."

"Lucky boy. I should hate you." He watched in amusement as the boy used his finger to scoop from his bowl a long, ropey strand of melted cheese. He tilted his head back and dangled it to his mouth, tongue darting out to capture it and draw it in with a satisfied slurp. As Trent licked a smear of grease off his lips, Anatole felt his cock stir.

Trenton caught his look and saw the humor, but missed the lust. He grinned, half apologetically. "I know, I'm a pig. I swear, I don't act like that around your parents."

"It's all right. I'm glad you feel that comfortable with me."

Replete, Trenton stretched out, slumping with his long legs sprawled. "So, what kind of art do you do mostly?"

"Well, we work in many mediums. I do mostly charcoal sketches, and oils. Would you like to see my studio?"

"Yeah. Is it nearby?"

"Very. It is in the attic. Come along."

He led the boy upstairs, and to a door at the end of the hall that he'd never explored. Anatole unlocked it, explaining, "This is my sanctum." They went up another short flight of stairs, and into the attic.

It was big, extending over the whole house. Anatole pointed out a hugh skylight. "During the day, the light is marvelous." He pointed to a couple of photographer's lights on stands. "At night, I use those."

Trenton prowled the room, examining everything. There were shelves lined neatly with art supplies and brushes. Somehow he had thought that any artist's studio would be messy, but this place was tidy and comfortable. The walls were lined with tacked up sketches, and canvases leaned against the wall.

"Wow. Anatole, these are great. I'm not just trying to flatter you, either."

The older man shrugged. "I am not so bad. I will never be famous, but I will be able to support myself, perhaps gain a small reputation. It is enough that I enjoy what I do."

Trenton was examining a portrait of a dark haired man of about forty. He was extremely handsome, his features almost unbelievably perfect. It would have looked like the portrait of an angel, if only the mouth hadn't been a little cruel, or the eyes had not been quite so ruthless. Anatole said, "Do you like that one? It is a good friend of mine--Gervase."

"He looks... He looks kinda like a hard guy." Trenton said carefully. He didn't want to say 'dangerous', if this was Anatole's friend.

"Perhaps a bit. He is very strong willed. Trehn-tonne, you know, you are not the only one who needs to practice. I was wondering, would you pose for me? I would like to sketch you."

"Sure. Maybe you could do one I could send to my mom?"

"Certainly." Anatole went to the shelves for his sketch pad and pencils. *But not the one I am planning to do eventurally, little one. She would hardly want a nude.*

French translations:

"Calme vous-même." Calm yourself
'Chaud et Dur.' Hot and Hard
"En dépit du proverbe, la curiosité ne détruit pas toujours le chat. Despite the proverb, curiosity does not always kill the cat.