Wiktoria

That was a busy night in the park. On the bench to the right of Słowacki's bust, a woman was riding a man – an unusual sight in that place. The queens passed them without a word. Only a few stopped and stared in surprise. A middle-aged couple, they looked homeless, drinking non-stop, and honestly, there wasn't much to watch.

At some point, a guy in his twenties showed up, perfectly normal, not homeless at all. He leaned over the old man. After a moment she got up, and the guy started thrusting into her from behind. Then there was something worth looking at – the youth's slender ass caught everyone's attention. The queens watched the spectacle with interest, three or more stopping nearby. I watched from a distance. Back then, I felt like a hundred-percent gay and was proud of it, which is why such spectacles generally disgusted me.

There was also an older gentleman with us, exceptionally elderly. Hard to pigeonhole him as just another pathetic old queen. Masculine, with sparkling eyes and a ruddy complexion. He had noble manners, with traces of pre-war polish in them. I immediately recognized him as an educated and valuable person, so he didn't bother me at all. On the contrary, I thought it was beautiful that such a dignified senior had come to the park.

Unfortunately, after a while the man took in so much stimulation that he felt faint, sat down on the bench, and we had to ask if he was okay or if we should call for help. A buddy of mine, a skinny blond in glasses, commented:

– You know, he saw all those handsome guys and couldn't handle it.

I understood. It was a warm summer night and there was really a lot going on in the park. Queens kept pairing off and heading into the bushes together. And later often threesomes, group stuff. And through the undergrowth almost everything was visible.

That night, the pigs didn't drive into the park with their headlights off, aggressive straight-acting thugs didn't attack us, there was an atmosphere of carefree fiesta. I wandered through both parts of the park until four, five in the morning.

Then a very young guy showed up, eighteen at most. Slim, average height, dark blond with regular features. Several queens were hitting on him. I was jealous and stayed nearby. I wanted him to notice me. At some point, when the area around him briefly emptied, he turned to me.

– Are you gonna sit on him? – I heard.

He looked at me with a focused, intelligent gaze.

– Unfortunately not – I replied.

I couldn't imagine it. I would never do such a thing in the park. Without preparation and probably without a condom? I'd taken risks my whole life, but exposing myself to that extent would cross my red line.

I was convinced I'd just lost my chance to get close to a fantastic teenager. I already felt the loss, the regret, the grief.

– Will you at least suck with a swallow? – he offered suddenly.

– Yes – I answered enthusiastically, with great joy and hope.

The boy stood up and let me take the bench. It happened right next to Słowacki's bust. I took him in my mouth, savoring the taste of delightful youth. I received him with adoration, fascination, devotion, and love. And when he filled me with warm liquid, I swallowed it like a precious treasure, unable to believe my own luck.

Then he wiped himself with a tissue taken from the pouch on his shoulder, zipped up his pants, and adjusted his T-shirt.

He said goodbye with a brief "thanks" and a specific gesture – two fingers in a victory sign pointed in my direction. The ending of the adventure was fantastic, so youthful, rarely seen. I thought about that gesture for a long time on the night bus from Kaponiera – a comfortable DAF bus, a gift from Utrecht, whose high seats made the ride feel like a little trip.

At home, I described everything on GG messenger to Horus, a buddy from Łódź, a bartender a year older than me from the forum where I held the rank of "admin's dog." That night, or rather that day, I slept fulfilled and happy.

I got up, as usual, late in the afternoon. I turned on the computer – a desktop with a CRT monitor – and immediately read Horus's reply to my account of the unearthly adventure with the wonderful teenager who had ended the encounter with an unexpected gesture.

Horus wrote:

"You know what that gesture meant? It was a gesture of victory over your life."