Daniel lingered in the hallway, deliberately taking his time to put on his sweater and adjust his shirt collar. Alexander impatiently looked at the living room, where the party noises emanated from, and let out a scoff.

"You don't need to dress up; you already look handsome. Let's go, it's not polite to keep the hosts waiting."

"We're two hours late," Daniel retorted dryly. "You could have chosen not to come at all."

"It's okay to be fashionably late to a big party, but it's rude to be a no-show," Alexander said, wrapping his arms around Daniel from behind, nuzzling his neck, and resting his chin on his shoulder. "We make a good pair, don't you think?"

Daniel hesitated, glancing silently at their reflection in the large mirror with its antique bronze frame. Despite the underlying tension, they did look striking together: Alexander, tall and broad-shouldered but not bulky, with olive skin, light green eyes, and golden-blond hair; and he, who appeared almost delicate compared to Alexander, despite his tall stature for Russia, fair-skinned with blue eyes and dark hair. Still, he felt he would look even better with a female companion, so he didn't respond to the comment.

"You had a bad thought," Alexander said with a hint of sadness, turning Daniel to face him. "But why? We're here for a friendly gathering, to drink, chat, and have fun. You look so glum, as if I'm dragging you to a tedious meeting with investors."

"I'd prefer an investor meeting," Daniel muttered, leaning in for a kiss. Alexander eagerly returned the kiss, caressing Daniel's back and resting his hand on his buttock, assuring him.

"You'll enjoy it. Everyone here is a friend or a pleasant acquaintance. If anyone bothers you, just step back. Deal?"

Before Daniel could respond, Mark, the homeowner, who seemed quite tipsy, again entered the hallway. Misinterpreting their intimate pose, he chuckled, covered his eyes with his hand - spilling some wine in the process - and whispered, "I didn't see anything."

Daniel quickly broke free from Alexander's embrace, adjusted his sweater with a hint of embarrassment, and confidently headed toward the living room. Alexander, momentarily taken aback, caught up and grabbed Daniel's shoulders, whispering teasingly.

"Feeling shy?"

"Of course," Daniel snapped, wishing he could shrug him off but holding back.

"And you wouldn't be this embarrassed with a girl," Alexander added, gripping Daniel's shoulder tightly. "It's all about me, isn't it?"

Daniel was relieved he didn't have to respond. As they entered the spacious living room, they were immediately surrounded by Alexander's admirers. They enveloped him, greeting him with kisses on the cheek and talking over each other. Alexander had to release Daniel to greet his guests, allowing Daniel to escape to the less crowded area near the long tables laden with food. His stomach growled - he'd skipped dinner while waiting for Alexander to finish his drawn-out negotiations. However, hoping they'd dine at home, he hadn't eaten. Licking his lips, he cautiously looked around the room. Alexander, already engrossed in conversation with a group and holding a plate of food and a glass, caught his eye but didn't seem upset by his escape. He winked playfully. Feeling at ease, Daniel's eyes widened at the array of appetizers, many of which looked so tempting that he hesitated, trying to decide what to try first.

"May I assist you?" A waiter dressed in a white shirt, black vest, and black pants approached Daniel, balancing an empty plate skillfully on his fingertips. Daniel took a cautious step back, wary of getting splashed if the waiter were to drop the plate.

"Yes, please."

"Well," the waiter exclaimed, his tongs snapping excitedly, "we have briny mozzarella and sweet tomato millefeuille with basil sauce, tiger shrimp paired with wasabi mousse and bok choy, tapas drizzled with smoked olive sauce, jamon, sun-dried tomatoes, and asparagus, scallop and mango ceviche verrine with a lime capsule, and donablu blue cheese mousse with a roast beef core..."

"I'll make a selection, thank you," Daniel said, taking the plate cautiously. He let out a sigh of resignation as the waiter produced a wine list from seemingly nowhere. "I'll have any red wine."

"Very well," the waiter responded, his initial enthusiasm dampened by Daniel's casual wine choice. "One moment, please."

Daniel moved away with a full plate, sampling two tartines topped with a blue substance and a drop of red in the center - the donablu mousse with a roast beef core. He mumbled his thanks as he received his wine glass and aimed to find a quiet corner to escape the rest of the party. He quickly swallowed without chewing, forcing a smile. Standing beside him was a stunning blonde of uncertain age, clad in tight white dress that seemed tailored to perfection. She stood so near that her cleavage, visible through the deep neckline, seemed almost poised to land on his plate. She gave him an approving once-over, twirling a golden lock around her finger, flashing a sizable diamond, and with a slight tilt of her head, she purred.

"Stella."

"Daniel, pleasure to meet you," Daniel responded with a polite smile, attempting to subtly step away to avoid drawing Alexander's attention. However, Stella followed, casually picking a black-topped canapé from his plate and devouring it with predatory grace. It became clear that Stella's interest was more in Daniel than in the food on his plate. While he might have entertained such advances in a past life, Stella's intense gaze and suggestive smile hinted at potential trouble in this scenario.

"So, are you someone's younger brother or assistant?" Stella asked, arching an eyebrow and delicately tracing her fingers along her dress neckline, drawing attention to a shimmering diamond pendant nestled in her cleavage.

"Um, an acquaintance," Daniel replied, momentarily distracted by her actions. He blinked in confusion, clutching his plate and glass defensively as she provocatively revealed more skin.

"Excellent," Stella whispered, leaning closer. "I'm growing bored of the same old faces and conversations here. Fancy stepping out with me?"

"I can't, I'm here with someone. I should go," Daniel said hurriedly, sidestepping away from Stella and her evident annoyance, her parting words ringing in his ears, "Jerk!"

Daniel wasn't concerned with the labels: the prospect of engaging with an older, predatory woman didn't entice him. However, the opportunity to eat undisturbed in a quiet corner did. He skillfully sidestepped a few more conversational advances, offering hesitant smiles, murmuring replies, and moving away.

The crowd was diverse, primarily comprising the affluent class to which Alexander belonged, but interspersed with individuals of lesser stature. These people, like Daniel, were dressed in upscale attire that mirrored the elite, but the way they spoke and held themselves betrayed a sense of insecurity and deference. Clearly, they were temporary companions or associates of wealthy individuals, eager to prolong their stay in this exclusive circle. Those who could discern his status at a glance quickly lost interest in him, turning their attention with feigned interest to others. This suited Daniel just fine; he had no desire to engage with them, even briefly. He didn't belong to the elite, nor to the less affluent, nor even to the servants – he felt out of place here.

He found a secluded spot by a panoramic bay window, so intricately designed that the surrounding area was larger than his previous room in New York. Behind the thick drapes was a petite table, seemingly meant for a child, and next to it, a bean bag chair - perfect. Carefully and deliberately, Daniel pulled the drape towards the room's center to fully conceal himself and settled in comfortably. Just in time, Alexander's voice echoed, punctuating the ambient noise with intermittent laughter.

"Danny, where are you?"

Choosing to ignore Alexander, Daniel plugged in his headphones, switched on his hi-res Sony Walkman, and sighed with relief as the guitar prelude filled his ears, drumsticks echoed, and the Rolling Stones' "Paint it Black" began to play.

I see a red door and I want it painted black

No colors anymore, I want them to turn black

I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes

I have to turn my head until my darkness goes

I see a line of cars and they're all painted black

With flowers and my love, both never to come back

I see people turn their heads and quickly look away

Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day

I look inside myself and see my heart is black

I see my red door, I must have it painted black

Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts

It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black

He savored each bite and sip, deliberately prolonging the pleasure. With each morsel, he wished he had taken more, relishing the flavors as he licked his fingers clean. He sipped the wine slowly, gazing through the ruby liquid at the distinct and rounded treetops, the sparse stars, and the hazy crescent moon visible through the window. The haunting tune of "Paint it Black" played on repeat, much like the daily rhythm of his current life. The velvety blackness outside, adorned with melancholic stars, resonated with the song's sentiment - a poignant blend of sadness and tranquility. Behind the thin fabric barrier, Alexander was weaving through the partygoers, searching for him; those in power reveled in the festivities; their less fortunate companions eagerly absorbed the spectacle of others' lives, while he remained ensconced in his quiet refuge.

His tranquil moment shattered with the last sip of wine. As he tried to capture the lingering drop, his glass slipped from his grasp when he felt hands grip his shoulders, pulling him abruptly from his sanctuary. The glass shattered silently on the floor. Although he instinctively tensed and pulled away, he forced himself to relax. Alexander, removing an earpiece from his ear, whispered.

"It's just me. I circled the house three times; the guards were alarmed as I searched for you. Don't you enjoy it here?"

"I don't know anyone here," Daniel replied, removing the earpieces and placing them in the case. The ambient noise of the party resumed, and his familiar sense of irritation began to build.

"You're always so elusive," Alexander said, straightening up and impatiently extending his hand, which Daniel reluctantly took to stand up. "I was about to introduce you to my friends so you could socialize, and then you disappeared."

Daniel couldn't fathom why he was being introduced to Alexander's friends, let alone why he was brought to the party. Still, he obediently followed Alexander, trying to discreetly loosen his grip on his hand. They were met with curious stares, their gazes appraising him as if determining his worth, all while Alexander held his hand more firmly. The scrutiny was uncomfortable, akin to feeling exposed and vulnerable. Daniel pulled his hand away more forcefully.

"Calm down," Alexander whispered. "I won't let you go, nor will you slip away again."

"Everyone's watching," Daniel whispered back. "I'm uncomfortable; I can't calm down. Please let go."

Sighing, Alexander draped his arm around Daniel's shoulders in a seemingly friendly gesture, leading him toward a small group of people who eyed them with great interest.

"This is Danny," Alexander introduced, gently pushing him forward as if presenting a shy child. "And this is Borya and his wife Varya. You've already met Mark and Katya, and this..."

Nastya squeezed herself between Varya and Katya, whose appearance was reminiscent of many well-groomed modern women striving to conform to a singular standard. She greeted Daniel with a broad smile and a raised glass.

"Hi, Daniel."

"Do you two know each other?" Alexander asked, his brow furrowing in displeasure. "When did you find the time?"

"I came with Gosha..." Nastya began cheerfully, but Alexander quickly cut her off.

"I see. There are quite a few people here, don't you agree?" He shifted his gaze expectantly toward Mark and Katya.

The hosts seemed to have grown accustomed to their friend's audacity over time, as they offered no protest. Mark surveyed the thinned, yet still sizable crowd and smirked, "It'll thin out." Placing his empty glass on a waiter's tray, he advanced purposefully. Katya tugged on his sleeve and whispered something into his ear. With a graceful shrug, she adjusted the slipping straps of her pink silk dress, which looked more like lingerie than a standalone outfit. She then strutted confidently through the crowd on her towering heels, exuding the demeanor of a generalissimo.

Whatever Katya whispered to the guests while delicately brushing her forehead with a fine brush remained a mystery, but its impact was immediate. Guests promptly placed their glasses on trays and tables, gave the hostess an air kiss, bid farewell to Mark, and departed.

"Wow," Alexander whistled in admiration, with Mark nodding in agreement.

"Only Katusha can pull that off."

In about fifteen minutes, only the waitstaff and their small group remained in the house. Suddenly, Daniel felt his shirt and sweater being pulled out of his jeans. Alexander's inappropriate gesture sent an electric shock through him. Daniel stumbled, narrowly avoiding Nastya, who was rising in front of him, and took a shaky breath, cursing inwardly. Alexander's eyes sparkled with mischief, but he soon adopted a more serious attitude, soothingly stroking Daniel's back. Daniel felt a surge of irritation but turned his attention to the wall and the pictures displayed there to mask his emotions. Being paraded around like a trophy by Alexander, being pawed at in front of others, and having his face rubbed in his perceived inferiority was typical of Alexander's behavior.

Desperately, Daniel tried to catch Alexander's eye, squeezing his hand tightly to draw attention, but Alexander remained unfazed. No explicit directive had been given, allowing Daniel to feign ignorance.

Upstairs, there was a smaller, more intimate living room. Unlike the opulence of the oak floors, the abundance of antique paintings in bronze frames, and the sparkling crystal chandelier below, this room featured mahogany parquet flooring, a beautiful blue Oriental rug with a vibrant, intricate pattern that echoed the blue fabric wallpaper, and several primitive-style paintings framed in delicate wooden borders. The room was furnished with dainty, antique-legged furniture that complemented the flooring, exuding a distinctly feminine charm.

"Do you like it?" Katya asked, noticing Daniel's appreciative gaze. "I decorated the top two floors, but I had to style the lower one according to my mother-in-law's taste. She has an eye for design," she added, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"It's lovely. Very tasteful," Daniel replied.

After adjusting her stubborn dress strap once more and whispering something to a waiter, Katya announced, "Make yourselves comfortable. I'll go check on Yura."

Daniel swiftly moved to the couch and sank into it, feigning ignorance as Alexander attempted to pull him closer. Chuckling warmly, Alexander moved closer and intertwined their fingers once more.

Then came the moment of revelations: all eyes fixed on the only unfamiliar face in the room, eagerly awaiting an introduction.

"How did you and Sasha meet?" Varya, nestled under her husband's arm, asked, her gaze drifting to their linked hands.

"Through work," Alexander replied. Boris and Mark raised matching eyebrows in surprise, while Varya blinked in equal astonishment. It seemed either Alexander had always maintained a strict boundary between his personal and professional lives, or his previous partners hadn't quite possessed the intellect to intersect with his career.

"Danny is quite brilliant," Alexander added, affectionately rubbing his temple against Daniel's nose. "He graduated as a nuclear physicist from MIT and came here for a consulting project, which is how our paths crossed."

"Wow, MIT is a prestigious university," Mark chimed in excitedly. "I've listened to MIT podcasts. They recently had a fascinating episode about Chinese demographics. Most people are aware of the one-child policy that skewed the gender ratio, causing males to outnumber females. It's a straightforward issue: savvy families used ultrasounds to determine the baby's sex, and if it wasn't a preferred gender, they would terminate the pregnancy."

"Mark," Varya interjected, her brows furrowing. "What's with the topic?"

"Just listen, Varya. The landscape has changed now. Ultrasounds have been banned, and due to the scarcity of females, their value has skyrocketed. To marry, a young Chinese man must provide his prospective bride with an apartment and a car, which is quite a hefty expense. Girls are now highly valued. The birth rate of girls has increased, but it's still not balanced.

Another intriguing factor: in rural areas, girls are more susceptible to illness and stunted growth, and the reasons remain unclear. MIT examined the purchasing habits of Chinese villagers and found a trend. In families with sons, spending on discretionary items like alcohol and cigarettes decreased. However, in families with daughters, this expenditure remained unchanged. Any guesses as to why?" Mark tousled his hair and scanned the room.

"Clearly, they don't have to set aside savings for a future dowry!" Alexander chuckled.

"True, but there's another aspect you're overlooking!" Mark glanced at the dozing Boris, then fixed his gaze on Daniel. Daniel ventured hesitantly.

"Perhaps they believed girls required less sustenance?"

"Exactly! There's an underlying bias - the Chinese genuinely think girls need less food than boys, resulting in malnourishment and frequent illnesses among girls," Mark exclaimed, slapping Katya's knee as she settled beside him, causing her to jump in surprise. "Although, my Katya can out-eat me any day when it comes to meat, isn't that right, kitten?"

"Keep talking like that and you'll get scratched," Katya nudged her husband playfully. Nastya chuckled, leaning closer to Katya and whispered something between her giggles.

Daniel felt neither ignored nor belittled. A warmth spread across his cheeks and chest, easing his tension. With a more genuine smile, he accepted Alexander's glass of wine and settled in to listen. Mark seemed to be gearing up for an interesting conversation, judging by his intense gaze.

"I've heard about an impressive lab at MIT focused on groundbreaking technologies for space travel and lunar exploration. Weren't you considering working there? Why choose nuclear physics?"

"Yes, it's called the Space Exploration Initiative. It's not just an engineering venture; it aims to integrate various sciences crucial for space travel and sustaining life on other planets. As for why I'm interested in nuclear physics, particularly fusion," Daniel paused to collect his thoughts. "I guess I'm an optimist who still believes our planet can be saved and sustained. But having a Plan B wouldn't hurt. It's amusing how people are already planning to colonize the moon, yet there's still uncertainty about its origin. What's taught about it in Russian schools?"

"That's a tough one," Boris shrugged, looking around at the puzzled faces. "Probably not much."

"Same goes for American schools," Daniel added. "Some might mention it's a meteorite captured in Earth's orbit. Fewer still discuss the identical isotopic composition of Earth and Moon elements, which is unique. For a long time, there was no explanation for this phenomenon. Recently, astronomers theorized about an event called synesthesia, where a large celestial body collides with another at high speed. This collision heats the planet into a gaseous state, causing rapid rotation and forming a doughnut-like shape. Particles from this shape eventually create the Moon. Over time, Earth cooled, slowed its rotation, and became spherical, while the Moon, also cooling, remained in orbit."

Alexander beamed proudly, basking in the admiration of his friends, as if Daniel's insights were solely his achievement. The group leaned in, captivated by the discussion.

Half an hour later, the atmosphere was charged with intense debate, filled with data and facts. Mark, gesturing animatedly, seemed to relish the argument, occasionally swatting away Alexander's playful comments. Nastya played devil's advocate, stoking the fiery discussion. Varya and Katya shared a private moment, not engaging in the debate. Boris had drifted into sleep, reminiscent of past debates with Alice and Peter.

Entering the bathroom, Daniel felt a detached smile on his face. He approached the toilet, sighing in relief, while laughter echoed behind the wall, with Boris now awake. Washing his hands, he felt the tinge of wine on his lips. His expression shifted to concern when Alexander burst into the bathroom, gripping him tightly and biting his shoulder. Daniel's fatigue was evident as Alexander's hands wandered aggressively. The comforting warmth dissipated; the imminent act felt uncomfortably close to the gathering outside. The thought of facing the group afterward made him uneasy.

His expression remained impassive as Alexander abruptly turned him around. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, deep and consuming. As Alexander's actions grew more intense, he suddenly pulled away, whispering discreetly.

"Let's head back."

Alexander clearly desired him - evident in his widened pupils, flushed cheeks, and tightened lips. Yet, something shifted within him. Had he picked up on Daniel's thoughts and... regretted it? Such an assumption seemed far-fetched, almost unbelievable. Alexander smirked slightly, holding the door open.

"You go ahead, I'll stay here," he said.

Daniel rushed, fearing a change of heart, and heard a sigh behind him. The living room buzzed with cheerful conversation. The usually stoic Boris, rejuvenated after a brief nap, chuckled while recounting a work-related incident. Mark, laughing heartily, tried to rouse a drowsy Katya. Varya beamed, her eyes fixed on her husband. Meanwhile, Daniel pondered the recent events - the unexpected humanity he had witnessed that momentarily thawed his perennial coldness. Alexander returned and sat beside him, absentmindedly tracing his fingers along Daniel's thigh, his attention seemingly elsewhere.

"Speaking of memorable incidents," Boris began, wiping away his tears and running his hand over the prematurely receding hairline, "I might have mentioned this before, but since Daniel is unaware, I'll share it again. It's about an unconventional approach to job hunting. I was scouting for a top salesman in the southern region. The role was lucrative, but the turnover was alarming - nobody lasted more than a few months. Local businessmen were ruthless. While I could have dealt with them aggressively, I remained hopeful of establishing more civil approach.

Here's where the story comes in: On one exhausting day, I was driving home, dreading an empty house since Varya was hospitalized for high-risk pregnancy. I was anxious about her, irritated by the challenging conditions in the South, and frustrated by my father's advice that I never asked for. My mood was at an all-time low. Suddenly, a reckless driver in a Kamaz truck cut me off, forcing me to swerve and end up in a ditch in my brand new Porsche! I was shaken, clinging to the steering wheel, contemplating switching to the passenger seat permanently. As I reached for my phone to call for help, a window shattered. I nearly pissed myself!" Boris chuckled, and Varya interjected indignantly.

"Why am I only hearing about this now?"

"I apologize, Varya. I didn't want to share at that moment, and afterward, there wasn't an appropriate opportunity.," Boris said, planting a kiss on her cheek before continuing.

"As cars sped past, indifferent to a Porsche in distress, darkness began to fall. A man approached, holding a tire iron and a flashlight, blinding me. Unsure of their intentions, I shouted, 'What do you want?' The person dropped the tire iron, handed me a piece of paper, and said, 'I apologize for startling you. I've been trying to reach you for a year without success. Please take a look at my resume.'"

Mark burst into laughter, infecting everyone with his mirth, even capturing Alexander's attention. Daniel was taken aback; he'd never imagined someone so audacious would be seeking employment.

"So, did you hire him?" Alexander asked, pulling Daniel close and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"First, I punched him right in the face," Boris stretched leisurely, cracking his knuckles. "Later, when I looked at his CV, I understood why my HR had repeatedly turned him down: the man was building sales in Siberia for a rival company. HR people think in a linear manner: if the CEO sets specific criteria, they'll weed out the unfit based on them. A Siberian trying to handle southern region would struggle initially; while he's getting accustomed, the southerners would test him and he'd be overwhelmed. But it dawned on me: this guy wouldn't be the prey, he'd be the predator. So, I gave him a beating, called a tow truck, and on the way home, we drank vodka alongside pickles he'd brought as an apology. He's been an asset to me since then, and the South has become our most profitable region."

"Is that Sergei Ivashnikov?" Varya exclaimed, eyes wide. "He's the most sophisticated among all your salesmen!"

"Behind every successful intellectual, there's a tough guy, my dear," Boris smirked and turned to Daniel. "So, what do you think of the story?"

"Impressive," Daniel responded promptly. "But I wouldn't have hired someone like that. Though..." He hesitated. Maybe he would have, if he were in Boris's position, if he shared the same mindset and understood what strategies would work. He glanced at Alexander, who was brimming with energy, persuading Varya that Boris was justified in keeping her in the dark. Perhaps she should've just accepted things instead of delving into the reasons, motivations, and logic behind them. Whispering when Varya began speaking.

"Should we head to the apartment?"

"Let's," Alexander responded cheerfully.

In the car, Daniel nestled against Alexander's shoulder, hesitating briefly. He felt Alexander's gentle strokes, watching the dense forest rush by in the bluish dusk. Turning Alexander's face towards him, he kissed him. He froze momentarily, letting Alexander take the lead, responding cautiously, fearing he might startle him, his eyes gleaming with happiness. Daniel's hand moved to Alexander's hardened groin, gripping it firmly through the stiff denim. He smiled as Alexander moaned softly, feeling his strong fingers tracing his back and pausing at his buttocks.

"Did you enjoy that after all?" Alexander murmured, caressing Daniel's body like a large cat.

"I did," Daniel admitted, unzipping his pants. "Thank you, Sasha."

"What are you..." Alexander began, interrupted by Daniel releasing the taut shaft, spitting on his palm, and slowly teasing it with an up-and-down motion.

"Should I stop?" Daniel whispered, pressing his thumb against the moist tip. The car's interior carried the tangy scent of pre-cum, and Daniel's own anticipation was palpable.

"Absolutely not," Alexander groaned, unfastening his belt. "Please, continue."

Hand over hand - swift, intense, erratic. Smooth firmness pressing into firmness - as snug as possible. Lips to lips, tongues intertwined - merging seamlessly. Gaze to gaze - radiant amid the darkness. Warm, passionate, tender. And a prolonged, husky moan - whether his or the other's, it didn't matter. What mattered was the undeniable pleasure they felt.

Author's Note:

Are you familiar with the Turing test and historian Harari's take on it? Invented in 1950 by British mathematician Alan Turing, a pioneer in computer science, the test holds significant historical context. Turing, who was gay, lived during a time when homosexuality was criminalized in Britain. Sadly, in 1953, he faced persecution and was subjected to chemical castration, leading to his tragic suicide just two years later. Turing's test, essentially, mirrors the life test imposed on gay men in 1950s Britain: can you convincingly hide your true identity? Turing understood firsthand that society judged based on appearances rather than reality. He foresaw a future where computers, like gay men of his time, would be judged solely on perception, not on their inner workings.

Daniel finds himself trapped in a rigid system where his authentic self is deemed inconsequential. The only thing that matters is how others perceive him. This disconnect from his true identity takes a toll on his mental well-being, as he's forced to conform to someone else's standards and expectations. Despite attempts to blend in, Daniel remains an outsider, unable to shake off the stigma associated with his position.