A Funeral and a Wedding

He turned his face back to me, a look of interest and lust in his eyes that I couldn’t have misinterpreted even if I had wanted to. “I have a friend, Onur. He works here too. We could show you a good time.” Before I could say anything, he whistled loudly and called something out in Turkish in which I discerned “Onur” had been included. Around the side of the line of rooms trotted another young hunk, undoubtedly the other guy I’d seen fucking on the bed lounger by the pool the previous night. A big grin exploded on his face when he saw me. He was as lithe and well-muscled, and great looking as Erol was, but without the five-o’clock shadow and hirsute chest.

“Me and Onur show you a good time today? Yes?”

“Maybe yes, but not this morning. I have to go out this morning. I have an appointment down in Ky— . . . down in Girne.”

“We show you a real good time, both of us,” Erol repeated. Onur was wagging his head in agreement.