Derelict on HotGuySecret
23
Muscles slowly bulge. Lungs expand and never retreat. Big up the chest, fuck yeah, look at that. Now stretch the arms back. Keep em stiff, now clasp hands. Fuck yeah. Bend forward at the waist. Fuck yeah. Hang intensely low.
Pick up the weights. Pressure in the brain? Let others feed you, you feed off their energy, you do it. You eat em for lunch. Curl up. Curl down. Transform it. Curl up down up down. Up and hold, now concentrate . . . concentraaate . . . Biceps fill with blood, pecs glow. Biceps triceps lats quads. The subject is hard and its what men are made of. Fuck yeah, look at it. The flood of blood through meat sends to the brain a pulsing glow. The pump the surge the flood the surface of shattered light
People look at you now. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8. They smile they do little things to catch your eye. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8. They find an excuse to squeeze your arm theyd love to see your erection their eyes are frank. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8. Let us look let us believe yknow dayum you should have your own .cum site. They show you respect. Say You should egonize. You should egonize & lionize, entroprize & synthesize. You know you want us as much as we want you. So show us that. You want our attention, we’ll give you flattery, in all its many forms. Its the best of both worlds. Lets deal.
He used to want only porn. Not no more.
Outside the door of a neighboring house slams. A woman is crying down in the yard below. A man says something indistinct. The woman yells “You take everything from me! You don’t want to be with me anymore!” She starts crying again. The man says something low and awful. A minute later theyre screaming obscenities at each other.
24
I cant stop thinking about him. I cant cannot cant stop thinking about him. He’s eaten his way into my brain and now there he is, curled up there the larval center of everything. I mean, its not like I’m trying to think about him it just happens. Its like somethings making me do that/not me. I wonder if we’re telepathicly linked or on the same emotional wavelength or something. I mean we’re linked genetically so . . . I’m really glad he let me take a few snaps of him with my vidcam. Well he gave me the vidcam, so maybe he wanted me to take the pictures – ? So I’d have them like telepathy turned into something . . . realer. I’m looking at one of the snaps now. A head & shoulders shot, taken from a foot or two below. I see a thick mass of dark brown hair, lightly flecked with grey, pushed back from his forehead. He’s got a few gray hairs in his beard too – but only a few. His eyes are the color of dark chocolate serious but with a tiny dancing light flickering shimmying playfully inside. The eyebrows thick the left one always arched just a tiny bit higher than the right one now why is that? It makes him look like he’s forever thinking about something, seeing something. Sometimes they rise they fall they furrow they lift, depending on his mood, which also shimmys playfully. His nose is strong, long, not quite straight. As to his lips . . . But how can I describe his lips? Full & soft, the dark bristle of mustache and beard making their pink moistness the core the center of all my attention . . .
Last time when we were saying goodbye at his house we kissed five times. He’d be like, “So, did you have a good day today?” And I’d be like “Yes,” and then he’d lean in and kiss me, very lightly, on the lips almost like what they call a peck but a little too soft to be a peck. His hands was resting just above my waist and mine was pressed round the twin curves of his lower back then flowing upwards till they curled over his shoulders . . .
“Really?” he asked, smiling but I think its the way his eyes went soft when they looked at me that did it.
“Yes,” I said.
“So you really had a good time?”
“Yes.”
“Think you’d like to come again?” I nodded and tried to sort of tug him towards me, and he grinned and kissed me once on the cheek and twice quick on the neck under my ear and the feel of his beard against my skin made me think omg I’m gonna go craaazy!
But – like he always does sooner or later/usually sooner – eventually he pulled back, let his arms drop, gave me a fatherly little nod and said it s time to go now, time we got me back home to my mother. I hoped it wasnt because of the way I’d started to rub my hands all over his back. I couldnt help it. I liked his back.
Afterwards I’d be hard for hours. All the way on the drive back home, then standing around for who knows how long forever it felt like while he and mom talked. By the time I got to my room I couldnt wait to get my pants off. I opened up the vidcam started looking at the snaps I’d taken and shot like a pistol-pal in about two seconds flat. Then two more times over the next half hour.
I wish he’d let me take midis of him. He said he didnt want to become just another media image, he said he wanted me to remember him in my head, the old fashioned way. I said it sounded like he wanted me to miss him.
I do! I miss him soooo much. I ache for him all over. Its like my entire body aches for him. Throbs for him.
At least I have these snaps. I look at them too much. I try not to, but I cant seem to stop myself. I look into those chocolate brown eyes and I think “Do you love me?” trying to you know telepathy think the idea strate into his head. And if I’m lucky the eyes say, “Yes.” Then I think “Are you yknow ‘in’ love with me?” and I know what they must say because what else could they say but I cant read them deep enough to know absolutely for sure . . .
He’d better be. He has to be. He just has to be. I dont know what I’ll do if he’s not. It’d make everything bad. It’d make everything seem rotten, if he didnt.
25
No no no noo nnooo nnaa nnaaa nnnaaaa. It starts like that, devolving into a wordless cry. Fear . . . Sorrow. Twin persecutors that have been at my heels for I don’t know how long. Because there are times in your life when time malfunctions. When it . . . peers at you.
Fuckin twisty triangle, bouncing against these walls, pushing against these walls, leaping out, spinning wildly, leaving threads of light everywhere, connecting every surface, thin beams of sticky light. And at the center a spider – stillness lying in wait.
26
Captured. And webbed in. Am I. The great horror of aloneness. Upside down and no one to talk to. Stories tell. They also listen. You can find your friends that way. My silent brothers. My secret sisters.
What’s prison like? I work in the daytime. Pot scrubber to the cook, a library assistant shelving books, ticket taker service representative a voice on the other end of the CompuSurv that’s me. We do the motions. Our mouths say nothing well. But we’re always thinking about things. Thinking things out. Thinking things out loud in our heads. Because stories tell.
How did I get here? It started late last nite.
27
Bam! Bam! Bam! There came a pounding on my apt door. It was late – one or two in the morning at least. I sat bolt upright in bed, shocked into alertness. Bam! Bam! Bam! I slipped on my pajama bottoms and spent the next several minutes stumbling towards finding edging my way down the stairs, half blinded squinting in the electric light. By the time I’d finally climbed to the bottom I was more or less fully awake, I guess. And still startled
“Ye-es?” I queried cautiously.
“Mr Ott?” a voice queried back – a deep voice, a commanding voice, an unexpectedly loud voice booming through the nighttime silence.
“Yes,” I said, almost with real conviction.
“Simon Ott?” the voice queried again, a little louder this time.
“Yes,” I said, my voice growing equally quieter, as if urging his to do the same.
“Open the door, please. Immediately! Now! I need to speak with you.”
Oh, ok. I pushed the long hinged panel of cheap wood open, just a crack; the chain stretched tight. Frank was standing on the landing just beyond, dimly shuffling in the hazy dark. But it wasnt just Frank anymore. And it wasnt just my neighbor either. This was a cop, dressed in full gear: 2 hammers, 2 stunners, boots and belt, black uniform & cap – all of it. I gaped. Had he been undercover all this time? My head twisted.
“Mr Ott, may I come in for a moment, sir.” He spoke very politely, and his voice had quieted some. But it was not a question.
I stepped aside to let him pass. He motioned with an exaggerated sweep of his arm for me to enter first. I climbed the stairs to the kitchen, listening to the sound of the door shutting behind me – the lock snapping – then the heavy clunk of his boots as he followed me up. After making a quick survey of the kitchen, he nodded me on towards the living room.
“Have a seat,” he said. I glanced around, sat gingerly on the edge of the couch and looked up at him, wide-eyed now and waiting. He loomed broodily above me, not especially tall except from that angle very tall and very thick, thick thru the waist, the shoulders, the thighs, with small, tough black hairs bristling out everywhere – his wrists, the back of his hands, his forearms, the back of his neck, the base of his throat.
“It has come to our attention,” he began, meaning by ‘our’ I sposed the Morgantown police dept, “that there has been some illicit drug use occuring at this residence.”
“Illicit?” I repeated.
“Illicit and illegal,” he said.
“Here?” I asked.
“Right here in this apartment,” he said.
“But you . . . I dont . . .” I fumbled as he cocked an eyebrow at me, “you know I dont have anything . . . here.“
He looked at me like he thought I was about as dumb as a pile of shit, then walked over to my dresser. All the hardware on his belt made his hips roll defiantly, and his ass was looking long and hard. Squatting he squatted squatted he squatted down, yanked open a drawer like it was his own and started rummaging through it, tossing underwear and old socks to either side, digging inbetween until . . . “Unh,” he grunted. And held up a bag of some of the best smoky code I’d been able to find, twisted up in a nice thick sac.
“But thats . . . How did you even –” I started to say then a thought came to me. He must have made a copy of my key. Then he must have come in here and searched the place . . . I imagined his hands rummaging through my clothes, his hands pushing against socks, pushing against underwear, splitting them open like he just done now.
“You understand, Mr Ott,” he said, “you understand that this is serious. No bullshitting here. You could get in a fuckwad lot of trouble over this.”
I slumped back in the couch. “I spose I could,” I said.
He sighed heavily, shook his head and then, standing up, tossed the sac onto the top of the dresser. “How old are you, son?” he asked.
“Sixteen, seventeen,” I said.
“Still in high school?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I threw the ‘sir’ in because I figured he’d like it, and it’d prove to him that as long as he treated me with consideration, I’d be willing to show him respect.
“So tell me this,” he said, “whats a teenaged high school student do when he goes creeping out of the house at one, two o’clock in the morning?”
So someone had noticed. And cared, apparently. Or maybe he’d just seen me walking around on the streets some anonymous nite? Maybe when he was out patroling? Or maybe he went out walking too, just to look, just to watch. Maybe that was part of his job.
“Nothin special,” I said. “I just like to walk.”
“At two in the morning?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
“Unh. And where d’you go at two in the morning?”
“No place,” I said. “Anywhere. Wherever.”
“And you would be looking for . . .”
“Nothin,” I said. “I just walk –”
He was shaking his head. “Huh-uh. Nobody just goes out and wanders around for nothin in the middle of the night. What is it – drugs? You looking to score, or maybe, provide? Its gotta be one or the other, son.”
“No,” I said, “I dont buy drugs ummm on the street. And I never sold none ummm there or anywhere else neither.”
“Uhh you bought that,” he said, pointing sarcasticly to the sac on the dresser, “somewhere. Wherever.“
“Well yeah but ummm . . . not on the street,” I said cleverly.
But he looked at me like I was even dumber than shit. “Well, I guess where you did buy it will give us something to talk about later, wont it? But ok, for now lets finish it your way. Its not drugs you been lookin for. So what is it?” He crossed his arms and stared down at me all burly like, scowling. I shifted about on the couch uncomfortably. Beneath his folded arms the fabric of his black shirt stretched tite across his belly. Likewise the black cloth of his pants over his crotch. It was tite enough for the zipper flap to pull open a little, the glittering metallic teeth stretching down the length of what I liked to think of as a growing mound . . . Hmm, at least it’d better be growing, cuz if thats what it looked like soft he was just gonna be too damn big. As I watched, he began to shift his weight back and forth on his feet, causing that mound to subtly alter its shape, to play with the altercations between shadow and light in the most interesting way . . .
My eyes flicked back up to his face. “Mm-hmm,” he said. “So its sex.”
“Sex?” I said. “No, I –”
“I heard you like to go with men. Men you meet on the street. Many men,” he said, watching me close. “What – surprised? You surprised I know about that?”
“Uhh yeah,” I said. “Sorta.” I mean, I’d only been with three men. Could one of them been working undercover? I’d also told someone I knew from work about getting picked up, hinted about it anyways. A guy I thought might be . . . impressed, or interested himself. “How’d you –”
“How’d I know about it?” asked Frank. “Simple. I didnt. But guess what I do now, dont I?”
I swallowed. I gaped. I –
“How many times?” he demanded.
“How many times what?” I squeaked.
He gave a loud snort. “Dont act stupid with me,” he said. “I dont like that.”
I was feeling a little dizzy. “Uhhh four times,” I mumbled. “But ummm twice was with the same guy.”
He smirked sourly. “Cuz your so good huh?”
I just looked at him. He fixed his eyes on me.
“Do you solicit?” he asked.
I knew better than to look away. “I dont think I . . . know what . . .”
The muscles in his jaw flexed. “Do you take money from these men!” he said.
“No!” I hollered. “No! Its not like that. Its not a job.“
“Its not like that its not like that,” he repeated, grumbling. “Whats it like then? You go out at nite for the express purpose of finding men to have sex with, correct?”
I gave him a kind of vaguely wordless nod followed by a small shrug.
“Well? How does that happen? Is there a particular place that you go? The park, maybe? Or out at the lake, near the dam? You having sex in the bushes, Mr Ott? Going into the woods? Having sex behind trees?”
“No!” I said. “Its nothing like that. I just feel like taking a walk sometimes. I just –”
“Duh I just I just,” he repeated. Suddenly he stepped forward, planting one black booted foot on the floor between my legs setting the other one down with a clunk on the armrest of the couch he leaned in, showed me his crotch then forced me to stop looking by rapping me under the chin with his knuckles forcing me to look up at the glare in his eyes. “Where do you go, Mr Ott?” he demanded.
His hard stare had hypnotized me. “We-ell I guess maybe I go down to where that big park is sometimes . . . and, I dunno. I wait. Or maybe I walk around downtown for awhile. And sometimes guys . . . find me.”
“Cuz how could they miss you? Huh? Cuz your so pretty,” he said. I felt myself blush with shame. “Ok, so you go out walking around town, maybe down to the park, maybe just goin . . . wherever, and some guy comes along and picks you up, takes you home with him. That right?”
“None of them ever took me home,” I said. “They just drove me around until they found someplace to . . .”
“Well shit,” he said, “aint that just fine. You just hop in their car and go off to wherever. And you do this for the express purpose of engaging in sexual activity with these men, is that right?”
“Well . . . Yes.”
He paused, sighing, mulling things over. “You dont take money,” he said, “so you aint exactly a whore –”
“Heeey!”
“Apparently,” he said, “your just a garden variety slut.”
“Wait a minute! Whats the problem with liking what they do to me?”
“You like what they do to you,” he repeated slowly. “You like it, I see. And what they do to you would be . . .”
I hadnt expected to get so detailed. “Well you know they . . . they play with me.”
“They play with you?”
“Yeah. They . . . put their hands on me. They touch me.”
His mouth twisted in a smirk.
“Alright,” I said defiantly. “They play with my dick. They go down on me. They suck me off.”
“Sure,” he said. “Cuz your dicks so pretty.” His sarcasm was shaded now with some deeper annoyance, or maybe just disgust. “You dont happen to give them money, do you?”
“No!” I said. “I dont need to do that. Shit I–”
“Shut it!” he barked. “I’ve heard enough. Right.” He began to pace angrily back and forth, back and forth. “Heres whats going to happen now. From here on in, your little nitetime escapades are at an end. Finished. Youve now got a curfew, son. Eight pm. Got it?”
“Eight!” I said. “C’mon, thats – You cant just –”
“I can just,” he said, walking over to the dresser and holding up the sac. “This says I can. Cuz this can still get you in whole helluva lotta trouble. Parents, school, police, a record that’ll screw with your future employment opportunities, credit, relationships, on and on, the whole shebang, from now until forever, far as the eye can see.”
I wouldve gaped except I’d decided to clamp my mouth shut. I even turned my chin away, nobly I hoped.
“By the way,” he said, unravelling the sac and tapping it to show me how much was inside. Now I did gape. That sac had been almost completely full just last nite. I’d thought it still was. “You appear to have smoked some of this. Against my express orders as I recall.”
“I didnt – I swear I didnt –”
He snarled up a nasty smile at the look on my face. “I wont forget it,” he said. “And I think youd better start thinking of a way to make good on this.” He tapped the sac again before rolling it up and stuffing it into his pants pocket. “Next time I want it full.” I nodded wearily.
Looking up at him I watched from the couch his lip snarled up some more he turned and began walking towards the stairs. I watched his ass, my tired eyes followed it carefully.
“Hey!” he called back to me. “Dont forget what I said. Eight oclock curfew and no more slutting around! You play by the rules or you pay the consequences. Clear?”
I wondered what the consequences might be. “Unh . . . clear,” I said.
The hardware hanging off his belt clunked as he went down the steps. I could swear just from the sound of it he was swaggering. Then the door slammed –
And Ive just sat here for the longest time, thinking about it. So my neighbor has a hard edge. Huh. But I also think he’s got a fat dick. I dont know how long, but I bet its thick. Either way I
two nites later I shoved another q under his door.
28
The social sphere. The social vextic. The social pronxus, the social sphinx. The social sphinxter. Its like I’m being forced, grabbed by the nape of my neck and forced my nose pushed up against the sphinxter muscle of society. Ready to be squeezed out, pinched off. Good to go sir! Now! Now! Now!
Society: Connect the dots and what do you get? The field generated whenever two or more people interact, or even merely live together proxie within the same generalized space (locality). Society’s sphinxter muscle: to which I previously referred vis-a-vis ‘my nose pushed up against’ something I would later be squeezed out of. Like poop.
Slide sideways. This is a much better time.
Because the world is slowly dissolving. Listen, You: I didn’t have much, but I had two rooms I called my own. Two large rooms to live in on my own, all alone. I had walls and a bed and two windows. I had clean water and a running toilet, a place to bathe and cupboards with cans and boxes of food inside them and a refrigerator too. Two cats I had for company, sweet and companionable little rodents.
I had this much at least. Many of us did. It was enough to build a life on.
You took this from us. When 15 yr old boys became giants. When the clouds mutated. When everything turned to shades of grey, thx.
Pssst. Hey! Slide over sideways. Its a much better time over here.
29
After about two weeks I couldnt take it no more. I slipped out of the house one nite on about midnite. I moved very quietly – nobody heard me leave. And what a relief it was to be wandering the deserted streets again! – the sky was looking very tall and sparkly, and the houses some of them was dead but in some a lite burned, behind a curtain, behind a shade. There was a convenience store I knew of, not quite downtown. I’d had this idea. I was gonna ask somebody – any interesting looking man – to buy me a 6-pack of beer. Plead poor. Plead lonely, plead bored. In any case I didnt look old enuf so I knew the guy who’d be willing to buy it for me would have to be really interested in doing me a favor . . .
I put on my tite jeans. The ones that bulged.
Leaving the house wasnt difficult. Steve was at dads that weekend and mom’d been asleep for hours she was a waitress then. I remember it was a cool nite. I didnt see no one much until I’d been walking around quite awhile I spotted some kids in a pack, aimless roamers but fortunately they turned the corner and meanwhile on my block, no good looking men in cars. There was a couple of vehicles in the convenience stores parking lot, two cars and a truck. I hung out at the front corner of the store just out of view of the windows. Someone came out and then someone else followed, and some walkers not roamers from the street went in. A blue car pulled out. A silver one pulled in. A guy got out and started pumping gas. He was wearing a suit, tho why anyone would be in business clothes at this time of nite I couldnt guess. But he was slender and looked athletic, and I liked it when he bent forward a little I liked the curve of his body. I decided he looked worth a try.
He began walking towards me. I was getting nervous trying to think of what to say and just how to say it, but he didnt look at me he didnt glance, not even for a second. My mouth was open but nothings what was coming out. My head swiveled slowly, a balloon on a stick. The man disappeared thru the door. I felt his breeze. I got a whiff of his scent, a mixture of cologne and alcohol. Nice.
I slouched back again to wait. The corner of the building dug into my spine. I liked how it felt. Something caught my eye to the right, something low and square and squat that was rolling thru the intersection, rolling towards the store. A cruiser. I saw the cops head turn and scan the storefront as he drove past. He had a moustache. I pushed off from the building and headed into the shadowy street running alongside it. Hands dug deep in pockets, shoulders hunched, eyes down, I hadnt made it more than half a block before I seen headlites pricking there way down a sidestreet, streaking the ground ahead of the slowly strolling cruiser. I stopped where I was and waited. The cruiser pulled to the end of the alley then it stopped too. I was looking at my shoe, suddenly I got down on one knee I untied it retied it. The cruiser rumbled idly some thirty feet away. When I finally looked up I seen that the window had been lowered. A bare arm was unfolding from inside, a hand motioning for me to step forward. Slowly I walked towards it, and didnt stop until I was only a few feet away. Then I just stood there, waiting. Finally I looked down at my shoe again. The cruiser idled. When I looked back up I seen an angry, impatient face squared off in the window then a thumb jerking up pointing for me to move around to the other side of the car. I skirted hubcaps, hood and headlites and didnt stop until I’d reached the window on the far side. It was black like a mirror. The window powered down, and from somewhere inside the dusky interior I heard Frank say
“Mr Ott.”
“. . . Yes.” I said it like deflation.
“Uhhh what are you doing out here, Mr Ott?” he asked, casually tense. His words sounded like muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching.
I leaned down so I could look into the cars interior. Yes it was Frank alright alright. No mistaking that bulk. “Umm I was taking a walk” I said.
“Uh-huh. You are aware of the time?”
I paused. There was no point to a lie, but I told him one anyways. “No.”
“How long d’you spose youve been out ‘walking’?”
I shrugged. “Coupla minutes maybe” I said.
“Unh. And what time did you leave your house?”
“I dunno. About ten . . . or . . . eight?”
“Its nearly one now,” Frank informed me, waiting to see my reaction. I gave him none. “Ok, I need you to get in the vehicle please, Mr Ott.”
“. . . What?”
He turned his head and stared out the cars windshield for several long seconds. Then, very slowly, he said “Open the door, bend down, slide your ass onto the seat, then shut the door. Do you think you can manage that?”
I pulled the door open and slipped in. The seat cushions was covered in something smooth and stiff. I tried to settle back but I was feeling very nervous all of a sudden. This seemed to be getting a little too real, all of a sudden. I wasnt quite sure what to make of it. I wasnt even sure I was going to like it.
“I’m not interested in your bullshit,” Frank said, and I sat suddenly very erect not looking at him very stilly my nose pointed forward. He made a noise, something like between a growl and a sigh. Slowly he pulled out of the alley and made a turn. Slowly we began to cruise down the street, crawling our way along towards the outskirts of town.
30
“So,” said Frank some five or fifteen minutes later. “This is where you go to have sex.”
It was a little surprising to hear it put so bluntly, but uhh “Ye-eah,” I said. “Well, or someplace like it.” We’d drove along until we was out past the edge of town, then turned down a dirt road and drove along that for awhile before turning down another road even more bumpy and narrow than the first. The trees started to fill in the shadows grew heavy. It began to seem like a very long road course we was driving slow the road got narrower still then abruptly it ended in a grassy field surrounded by woods. The weeds here was thick they covered the whole field except for a little stumpy path made by some previous visitors tire tracks. Frank followed it, pulling into a bank of shadows cast by the wall of encircling trees. He turned off the ignition there we sat looking there we sat listening as the engine died. Then to the silence we listened to the silence then I noticed the crickets chirping and buzzing sounds too. And they seemed to grow strangely louder as I listened like the volume being turned up.
“A place like this huh?” Frank asked.
I shrugged. “Yeah,” I said. I glanced round me at what lay outside the windows. The sky above was lit by a dim haze. The moon was shifting its way in & out of some scrubby wet clouds. “Actually, this place is . . .” I looked again “perfect.”
“So, what, you been here before?”
“Noo,” I said. “I never seen this spot. I just mean its the right kind of space. Do any of the other cops know about it?”
“Huh-uh,” he said. “Just me.” He paused. The cricket sounds grew louder . . . nearer seeming. Its a harsh sound when you hear it that well. “So your sittin here next to some joe some guy you dont even know from joe you let pick you up off the street take you to some deserted field and then what? What happens next?” he asked.
He’d turned his head turned his face towards me he was staring at me thru the dark his eyes shining never blinking. I shifted about uncomfortably in my seat. “Well I mean cant you guess,” I said. “I mean I already pretty much told you.”
“Unh tell me again,” he said. “Tell me slow.”
“Why?”
“I’m taking a professional interest,” he said. “Look at it this way. I’m driving round one evening and what happens but I find a teenaged boy whos being taken by strange men to places” he spread out his arms “like this. So I figure I better find out exactly whats going on, doncha think? And what your going to do now is answer any question I decide to ask you. And your going to do that because I’m telling you to. Its real simple, see? So here we are. I’m the anonymous asshole whos driven you to a place where I’m sure we cant be seen. Here we are, all alone. What happens next?”
I didnt know what to say. Frank kept staring at me in the dark he felt very near. I could hear him waiting, waiting. His breath, his heartbeat, time, something – I could feel it. “I guess,” I began, “theyd be telling me by now that they thought I was goodlookin, you know cute or somethin . . .”
“They tell you your cute?“
“Or handsome – attractive – whatever,” I said. “. . . Sexy.”
“Oh,” Frank said, “oh ok. Sure, your one sexy kid. Unh. Then what?”
“Well I guess then theyd start . . . you know touchin me,” I said, “while they was talking, like maybe on my shoulder, or on the back of my neck, or on my knee. I guess they always end up with there hand on my knee. And then they I guess they usually start runnin there hand up and down my leg –”
“And all this time theyre telling you how cute & sexy you are?”
“Well,” I said, “I guess, somethin like that. I mean I cant really remember there exact words . . .”
“Ok,” Frank said. “What do you duhhh remember next?”
“Well I guess by then my (dicks) pretty hard –”
“Course it is,” laughed Frank. “And in those tite jeans well –”
“It wasnt hard to tell,” I agreed, “yeah, I guess by the time theyd worked there hand all the way down they you know could tell somethin was . . . up.”
“Unh,” said Frank. “And you? Whatre you doing all this time?”
“I dunno,” I said. “Just sittin here. Like this.” I slumped back in my seat and let my legs fall open.
Frank glanced down at me and grunted. “Got it. Now put your fuckin knees back together before I rip your balls off. Sit up for christs sake! What next?”
“Umm well then they usually ask if they can take my, you know my uhh (dick) out and play with it. So I tell them alright and then they pull my pants down and play with me and feel me and suck me off.” I said the last part in a rush.
“Unh just like that huh?”
“Well yeah,” I said. “Pretty much.”
“And then?”
I shrugged. “Then they take me home. Or at least they drop me off someplace close to it.”
Frank sat silent for a long while. Then somewhere in the middle of it he reached over and placed his hand on my knee. Clamped down hard. It made me jump a little it fell on me like a stone. Slowly he began pushing his hand down my thigh. When he’d got about halfway he stopped and asked “Are you hard?”
I caught my breath. “Uhh,” I said, and very carefully, inch by inch, let my legs fall open, “sure.” But Franks hand was gone.
He rubbed his face and sighed. “Get out of the car,” he said.
“What?”
Already he had his door open. “I said, get out of the car!” His voice was quiet but angry.
I got out shut the door its impossible to shut a car door quietly out in the middle of no-where country the cricket-silence was all around me it was a beautifl nite really when you stopped to look at it. I swallowed. Frank came over and stood in front of me. The trees was very dark behind him and straight up like a cliff. The clouds in the sky had gone all to shreds now, and a icy white sliver of moon raked thru. My chest felt tite my heart squeezd my nuts felt tite my head my head too too. There was a buzzing in my ear like a cicada maybe there was.
“Here” ordered Frank. He motioned me to move a few feet to my left. “Now turn around and put your hands palm down on the hood of the vehicle.”
I tried to laugh. “Am I being arrested?”
“Whats happening now,” Frank said, grasping my hips and pulling them towards him kicking at my ankles until my feet was spread wide, “is what happens to any sixteen/seventeen year old runt who ignores there curfew and goes out lookin for a fuckin blow-job.”
“Oh,” I said, and stopped at that. I couldnt precisely at that moment think of anything else to say. “Soo . . .”
He stepped back and took a quick survey of me as I bent over the hood of his cruiser. I heard him exhale sharply thru his nose, a gutteral sound – “Do you have any weapons on you?” he asked sharply.
“No,” I said, surprised. “Of course not. No weapons.”
He started patting me down. “Stay still.” He pressed the flats of his palms against me, moving down my sides, up my back, then checking me from chest to waist with long downward motions. He tucked his fingertips inside my pants, moving from belly to behind. He gripped me, hard, along my arms from wrist to shoulders, then up my legs from ankles to calves and all the way up to the top of my thighs.
“Keep it down,” he said.
“Keep it . . .” Oh, ok . . . I thought. “How?”
He butted the back of my head with his hand. “Down,” he commanded, pushing me until I lay with my chest completely flat against the hood of the car, my head twisted to one side. Kneeling, he pressed his palms into the bottom of my buttocks he pushed his hands in hard and lifted. Grabbing my buttcheeks gripping them firmly in his hands he began pulling them apart . . . After doing that three four times he used two or three fingers to dig into my crack pushing in hard thru my pants probing for where he thought the hole should be . . . I jerked. “Unh” I said. I couldnt help it.
After feeling around between my legs, grabbing at my balls some, finally he finished he rose up he balanced on the balls of his feet his crotch knocked lightly against me. Then his hand was on my neck his fingers dug in hard. “Up,” he said. I stood up. “Keep your hands on the hood,” he said. I did and found that if I cast my eyes down far enough and to the side I could catch a glimpse of him he had his legs squared his fingers curled not quite into fists.
“Do you have any sharp objects in your pockets?” he asked.
“No” I said.
He passed his palms over my front pockets, pressing rubbing slowly methodically in circles, then inserted a hand into each. His fingers slithered and wriggled against my legs as they searched.
“Wait here,” he said. He opened one of the cruisers back doors, retrieved something, then slammed the door shut. “Now, stand up straight, and keep your arms behind you.”
I felt the strap wrapping round my wrists jerked my hands but they was already bound tite. My heart was thudding, I’ll bet if you unbuttoned my shirt youd almost see it pulsating against the walls of my chest it was beating soo hard. Slowly evenly he pressed down on the strap between my wrists until my back was curved and my ribcage stretched open my neck arched. Holding me in that position he reached round with the other hand and flattened his palm first against my belly just below the navel then down down between my legs “You got anything hidden here?” he asked. My head was pulled back against his chest I made a sound like, “Noooaaahh.” He pushed his hand against my dick pressed hard against a nut both nuts, hard, hard, he didnt care if it hurt –
“Whats that!” he demanded. “Tell me!”
“My balls my dick” I said helplessly. “Whad’you . . .”
He gave a grunt. “Your dick,” he sneered. He grabbed me up in his fist and started yanking on me twisting my dick bending it pulling on it thru my pants like he wanted to see for sure if this thing hed got hold of really was attached. “Turn around,” he ordered. I did he moved around behind me, settling himself against the side of the car moving me towards him his hands on my waist. “Stop,” he said, and reached over and down and slid his hand the flat palm of his hand down down over my dick and starting right from the head all the way down the shaft until his fingers could reach under he cupped my balls squeezed my balls squeezing just once just once but hard “unh!” I said and bent over double then straightened slow
“So this is what you do,” said Frank, releasing my balls and letting his hand rest against the shaft of my dick hotly, heavily, while he pondered things awhile. “You walk around town wearin pants so tite its like an open invitation for the whole world see that you got a dick like thats sposed to be some big present for us. Then you let some stranger, some man you dont know from Adam take you out to a place like this and basicly molest you. Is that correct? Have I got all my facts right?”
” Well I – I wouldnt put it like that” I stammered.
“Unh. And who are these men? Why the secrecy? Is it cuz of your age? They take you here cuz theyre afraid . . .”
“I dunno. I mean they got wives I think or maybe girlfriends –”
“Unh. You think this, or you know it? Which – do they tell you?” He reached down and gave my balls another tite squeeze.
“Unh!” I said. “Yeah two of them did. And one I noticed – one I noticed was wearin a ring.”
Grabbing onto my dick as if he was using it to anchor me in place then grabbing my balls and yanking at them “Stand tall!” he barked cuz I was starting to pooch out my butt starting to bend over and squat he gave me a shove with his knee I stumbled forward a few paces I almost fell.
“Alright!” he said, coming round to face me again. “This is what happens to little teenaged-boys who go out after curfew lookin to get there dicks sucked.” I blinked at him. “First, I stop them,” Frank said, rocking forward bending close so our faces was only a splitsecond apart, so close that in the glimmering dark I could see his nostrils flaring I could see the gleeming whites of his eyes. “I stop them and I find out who they are, what there business is, what the fuck theyre doin out so late. And if I’m suspicious about what theyre up to, if they lie to me about it, if they give me a hard time, if they hassle me, I lean them up against the side of my vehicle and I perform a manual search. If I feel its necessary, I cuff them. If I feel called upon to take things one step further, if some little teenaged boy keeps actin like a little brat and dont admit he done nothin wrong, I may take him down to the station. I may take him down to the station in my cruiser, see, and then march him in like this –” He pinched the back of my neck with one hand and pushed me forward, marching me down to one end of the cruiser then turning me round and marching me back again. We stopped halfway where a little patch of moonlight leaked thru a break in the clouds. I looked up. The moon had grown fuller by now, its fat grin was verging on laughter. “I take him into the station and I say, ‘Looky-here boys looky-here. Looky what I found out on the street tonite. A teenaged . . . nope, says he’s not a whore. I know, I know, but he says he dont take money he just gives it up for free! Aint even got the common sense of a good prostitute. No, gentlemen, what we got here is nothing more than a slut. A commonplace teenaged slut. How do I know? Hell, I caught him in the act! Seen him lettin a guy go down on him out back of a convenience store. The guy got away, but slut-boy here had his pants down around his knees and his meat stickin out and he wasnt goin noplace fast. So I nab him, and whats he do? Well whadya think a slut like that would do? Thats right he cums on to me. Starts waggin his dick around like he thinks I might bite. I tell him to stuff that shit back in his pants and fast. But hes been showin it to me every chance he gets ever since – I mean, look at that, you see that shit?” He reaches down and grabs at my dick as if to show all the cops at the station what he was talking about, that hard-on pounding inside my pants. “Look at that boys, look at that. Sluts a fuckin showoff.” He gives my balls another squeeze and cuffs me on the back of my head.
“Sure,” I said, my voice high and fast “I get you. Look – look officer, look sir, if theres anything I can give you if theres anything you want –” You know, trying to play my part
“Jesus,” he said, scowling me up and down. “What a fuckin little . . . You really are a fuckin little . . .” He came round behind me, wrapped one arm around my chest using his other hand to grab at my crotch. I stretched out my fingers reaching for his too but he jerked my bound wrists down hard, barking “I said stand Tall!” Again he reached for my crotch, this time hunting for the zipper. “Or what if this happened,” he said, yanking the zipper down and pushing his fingers inside. “What if I took you down to the station and said ‘Looky-here boys, looky what I got offered tonite.” He wrenched my dick out from between the flaps of my pants then held them flat against my body so that my dick jutted out as far as it could. “Huh? Whadya think of that?” He put his hand on the back of my neck again and marched me up and down the length of the vehicle, parading me in front of an imaginary group of men sitting in the darkness just out of sight. “Look at that boys. Can you fuckin believe that shit? Hes been hard like that ever since I picked him up tonite!” We stopped. He came round to face me/looked down at my dick/crossed his arms/shook his head. “You think thats cool, showin yourself off to a bunch of strange men?” he asked me, quietly, seriously.
I swallowed, I didnt know what to say. I mean it was kinda sexy, only this was just pretend. Sort of. So I didnt know quite what to think.
He kept staring at me, there was a little patch of moonlight shining right down on my dick. “This is what he offered me,” he said. He batted my dick he slapped it back and forth between his hands. “This is what he offered to let me have, gentlemen, just to keep him out of trouble. Not even for free you understand,” he said musingly. “Just to keep his sorry ass out of trouble.” He turned his head and spat. “But dyou know what I told him? I told him I dont make deals. I dont give. I take.“
The back door of the cruiser swung open. He shoved me forward. I stumbled in, fell, scrabbled across the seat naked butt up glancing over my shoulder just in time to see the blur of him as he leapt in after. The car door slammed. Then he was on me
PART THREE
END