Robert said, “How’s it going?” and Dmitri said, “Good” and Robert had indicated his screen and said, “I was thinking of maybe trying to meet someone, but I’d like to meet you” and Dmitri said, “I have one hour to kill before I have to pick up my cousin” and Robert held up a bulky shopping bag from the expensive store and said, “Want to help me with my new lamp?”
Robert was a college student at the New School. He had a room in the dormitories a few blocks away. This was not at all what Dmitri had heretofore experienced: hotel rooms, lofts, once in the back office of a restaurant with the manager of the restaurant. Going to a school dormitory felt very risky, in an unpleasant way. He wanted to say no, but when he was standing closer to Robert, it was hard.
At the dormitories, there was a terrible moment when Dmitri was told he was required to show identification to a security guard. His high school ID had his date of birth on it, and also his name, which was not the name he’d given to Robert. The only other option he had was the Prime ID card he’d gotten in Utah, which didn’t have his date of birth, but he had no idea what would happen if it was scanned at a place like this. Total humiliation (“I’m sorry, minors aren’t allowed in here”) versus risk of exposure (“Yes, Mrs. Kuznetsov, this is Prime Space security, and we’ve just picked up that your son has entered the building of a school with a known homosexual”).
He chose the Prime ID but had to write his name down on a list, and so Robert learned that Dmitri’s name was Dmitri, and not Misha.
“Misha is like nickname,” Dmitri said in the elevator, working out furiously in his head a story for his Prime-minder, or his mother. (“I took a walk and met a student who offered to give me a tour of his college so I could see what American university is like.”) When they passed kids in the hallway on the way to Robert’s room Dmitri assumed the vaguely preoccupied face of someone who knows exactly what they are doing. This had seen him safely through hotel lobbies and corridors, but he was nauseated with anxiety. He did not like this kind of risk, and for what? Robert was not special.
Robert’s suite was the first living place Dmitri had seen in America that wasn’t enormous. They sat on the bed and talked for fifteen minutes about how Dmitri was Russian and then Robert had said, “You’re gorgeous,” which was Dmitri’s cue that he could stop talking and put his hands on Robert’s head, which was the one thing he knew how to do.
And after, nothing had come of it at all. Nobody had been called, nobody knew. Dmitri had given Robert his message number before leaving, just in case he needed to cover some tracks. He hadn’t planned on seeing him again. But then he changed his mind.
? ? ?
TODAY, ROBERT GREETS DMITRI in the lobby of his dormitory building. Robert has recently taken a shower, his hair is wet, he looks different from how Dmitri remembered, younger and less sexy. Robert has not asked Dmitri’s age. Dmitri is sixteen now, but it is still illegal for anyone to have sex with him. It is called statutory rape, even if Dmitri utilizes a train and a subway car and a walk and three erased messages on his screen and a handful of lies to various people for the specific purpose of getting raped.
And people tell him that he must be glad to be in America, where there is so much more freedom. They’re all children here.
“Are you meeting your cousin again?” Robert asks.
Dmitri says that this is so, and he has only one hour.
Robert’s dormitory room is mostly a square with single beds set against opposite walls, and identical desks at the foot of both beds. There is also a small kitchen with room for a round table, and a bathroom with only a shower, no bathtub. On the first visit, Dmitri hadn’t noticed many details of the room, although he had pretended to look around. He hadn’t wanted to see anything, still doesn’t; he’s positive that he will see something embarrassing that will put him off. And he very much wants to have Robert blow him today, he’s been thinking about it all week.
So has Robert, apparently, because Dmitri does not even have to put his hands on Robert’s head, Robert right away undoes Dmitri’s pants just as Dmitri is taking off his coat. So Dmitri sprawls back on Robert’s bed and shuts his eyes, until Robert says, “I want you to watch me,” which turns out to be a good suggestion. He can see Robert, and his own dick, and he can sort of see the two of them, as if he were watching a video. Only at the end does he shut his eyes. He thinks of this moment as being like a supernova. Nobody ever sees a supernova.
After, Robert wants Dmitri to take off all his clothes, and Dmitri feels so good he does not object to this. Robert takes off all his own clothes. The bed is narrow. They sort of grab at each other. Dmitri can only see Robert in pieces: a shoulder, a thigh, some of Robert’s stomach. Robert wants Dmitri to do more things.
Dmitri is nervous about escalation. He has definitely never done anything to do with buttholes. He thinks that he just likes getting his dick sucked, that’s all, and he might not even be bisexual, let alone gay. He thinks that he might be just as happy if a hot woman came up to him and offered to suck his dick, only that never happens. The porn that Ilya likes also works for him, so that proves it. Dmitri doesn’t watch the girl in those videos, but that’s only because girls don’t have much of anything to see down there. And all he’s doing right now is killing time. The things you do when you kill time don’t count.