by Lou Harper
“Oh hell.”
“He really liked it too. I had a tight little ass back then.”
“You still do, Tiger.”
Jay grinned. “Thank you!”
“I still don’t know how you figure the guy was straight.”
“He never once touched my cock or kissed me. He only fucked me from behind, and once we were done he zipped up and acted like nothing happened.”
“Ah. How did you get caught?”
“We got carried away. He kept sneaking into my room in the middle of the night. It got to the point that I just greased up my ass before going to bed. One night Chrissy burst in on us. It’s a miracle it didn’t happen sooner.”
“I’ve got a sneaking suspicion you were counting on getting caught.”
“You know…I didn’t see it that way at the time, but looking back, I think I wanted to stick it to her. Some passive-aggressive bullshit. That’s how she officially found out I was gay, by the way. We had a very big fight, with lots of screaming and name-calling. I took off the next day, but my grandparents dragged me back a week later. I was an amateur. Didn’t know what the fuck I was doing—running away, I mean. Didn’t even have money.”
“Did you go back to living with her?” Sam asked, sliding a hand into Jay’s shorts. It was hot and damp down there, like a jungle. Jay wore nothing underneath, not even a jockstrap.
“I had to. My grandparents made us. Chrissy didn’t like it any more than I did. She kicked Seth out, but got another guy soon enough. I think she had them lined up in the wings, just in case. It was real screwy, Chrissy being all paranoid for the next two years that I’d be hitting on her boyfriends.”
“Were you?”
At some point during the conversation Jay dropped the bag of peas on the floor, and Sam’s fingers played around the edges of Jay’s nipple, fingertips brushing lightly against the small bumps of cool skin.
“Of course I was. The joke was on me though. It turns out when Chrissy was supposedly going out to yard sales, she was actually banging this other guy, who gave us all the clap.”
“You were fucking the guy without a condom?”
“Hey, I was seventeen and stupid! I figured it was just between the three of us. I learned my lesson. I haven’t fucked a single guy once without a condom since. Until you, that is.”
“That’s smart,” was all Sam said.
“Yeah, and then I ran away again the day I turned eighteen. That time I was ready. I had money saved up too. I made it all the way to St. Louis. You know the rest.”
Sam didn’t, not all of it, but he knew enough. Or maybe he’d never know enough. The hell with it. It didn’t bother him how many men Jay had fucked, if anything it turned him on, but he wished they’d appreciated what they had half as much as he did. The urge to possess Jay was overwhelming. Sam rolled their bodies till Jay lay trapped under him. As Sam’s hand was still in Jay’s shorts, he began to rut against Sam’s palm. Sam gripped Jay’s cock and gave it a squeeze. Jay gasped.
“I have a present for you,” Sam whispered.
Sam pushed himself up to his knees and dug the leather cock ring out of his pocket. Turning Jay to his side, Sam fastened the ring around the base of Jay’s shaft. Jay’s eyes went wide watching him do it. The authoritarian dark leather contrasted well against the pale skin. It was possessive in the most intimate way.
Sam pushed Jay back on his stomach and yanked his shorts off all the way. Jay let out a protesting grumble, but arched his back and stuck his ass up.
“Good boy,” Sam murmured, kneading the fleshy buttocks. “You mentioned spanking earlier.”
Jay only moaned in reply. Sam got off the bed, undid his belt, and pulled it off. Sam folded the leather strip in half. He slowly brushed the cold leather over Jay’s skin from calf to butt, along his spine, then back to Jay’s buttocks. He swung it once with the flick of his wrist. It was nothing more than a light teasing snap, but a ripple ran through Jay’s body.
“Beautiful,” he said. He wasn’t sure if Jay’s strangled whimper was a response to the touch or the words.
He took Jay’s arms behind his back and used the belt to tie Jay’s wrists together. He would’ve liked to tie up the boy with yards and yards of ropes, but he had none handy. He promised himself to be better prepared in the future. Sam kicked his jeans off and fished the bottle of lube out from under the bed. He dribbled it sparingly in Jay’s crack, then played with the pink little hole, slipping his fingers in and out, till it was just loose enough and Jay started to make throaty little sounds.
He kneeled between Jay’s legs and pulled him up to his knees. Holding on to Jay by his bound wrists, he pushed his cock into Jay’s tight little ass in one slow continuous motion. He rode Jay unhurriedly, savoring every sticky, wet moment of it, every inch of the heat clenched around his cock, every moan, every filthy sound they made. Not wanting to wear Jay out in that stressful position, he flipped Jay over, untying his wrists first, then rebinding them in front. He pounded Jay’s ass harder now, and teased Jay’s cock with fleeting touches.
“I need to come so bad,” Jay cried out.
“Not yet, baby, not yet,” he said, and changed his angle.
“You sadistic… Oh fuck!”
Sam held back as long as he could, because Jay writhing and coming unwound was the hottest fucking thing he could ever imagine, but the point came when he had to let go. He undid the cock ring and stroked Jay’s shaft. Jay came, body arching, muscles contracting around Sam and forcing his orgasm out of him.
Chapter Twelve
NT: What do you have?
SR: Nothing yet. Your friend’s a dead-end, so I’m looking into the boy.
NT: You better find something before the boss blows his top. He’s not in a good mood.
SR: It’s not my problem.
NT: It could be.
The nightclub sat on a side street, half a block from busy Santa Monica Boulevard. The interior was all dark wood, upholstered walls, leather booths and recessed lighting. Jay could easily imagine the ambience of sin and swank the place would radiate at night under proper illumination. At the moment, under bright lights, tarps covering some of the furniture while workmen were banging on something in one corner, the place looked less posh. The manager, Mr. Drake, took a break from his supervision of the men when Sam and Jay entered. He looked to be in his forties but clearly made a considerable effort to look younger. As they did their introductions, Drake’s manner was smooth and cordial, but Jay detected sly calculation beneath the surface. While Drake and Sam discussed details, Jay surveyed the already fully stocked bar they were standing in front of. Drake hoisted himself on a bar stool but didn’t offer them a seat. Jay didn’t miss that it gave Drake the height advantage over Sam he was previously lacking.
Drake looked Sam over and seemed satisfied. “Alfonso swore you’d be perfect for the job, and you certainly look the part. He also assured me you have the experience. That’s sufficient enough to get you in the door—practice will tell if you can stay in.”
Sam had let Jay know this job opportunity came by way of one of the old acquaintances of Sam’s uncle, and hinted that some long-standing debt was involved. That had to be this Alfonso.
Drake appeared slightly less convinced about Jay.
“Supposedly you have experience,” Drake said, looking him over.
“He has,” Sam cut in before Jay could open his mouth.
Drake’s gaze cut from one to the other then back. “Would you mind giving us a demonstration?” he asked, gesturing at the bar behind him.
Jay nodded and walked behind the bar, did a quick scan, and gave Drake a friendly smile, doing his best to hide his annoyance.
“What can I get you?”
“Screaming Orgasm. How about you?” Drake asked Sam.
“Thanks, I don’t drink.”
“Humor me.”
“Dirty Martini.”
Jay moved quickly and efficiently, putting just a little showiness in it—he
sent one of the bottles spinning in the air and caught it without even looking, but kept that to a minimum. Shortly the two cocktails stood on the counter. He definitely felt smug.
Drake appeared satisfied enough without actually tasting his drink. For a second, Drake’s gaze lingered on him, and he had the distinct impression that if not for Sam’s presence, he’d be continuing the demonstration of his skills on his knees in Drake’s office.
Drake turned to Sam again. “The dress code for staff is black. You don’t mind wearing leather, do you?” he asked, sounding like he already knew the answer.
“It won’t be a problem,” Sam assured in a neutral tone.
They spent a few more minutes settling issues of money, then the interview was over.
“Why do people always assume the only thing I’m good at is sucking cock?” Jay asked fuming, as they stepped outside.
“The world is an unfair place,” Sam replied. “Good job with those drinks, Tiger.”
“Pfft. ‘Screaming Orgasm’, my ass! I used to work at the campiest gay bar in Denver—those queens would order the stupidest drinks, believe me. Especially the ones with names like that—Screaming Orgasm, Sex on the Beach, Slippery Nipple, you name it.”
“If you say so,” Sam said.
Jay kept grumbling. “Doesn’t it bother you? Being bossed around by a slimeball?”
Sam shrugged. “I try not to let my ego get in my way. At least he’s not a homicidal maniac. Come on now, boss man wants us in leather. We’re going shopping.”
“He wanted you in leather.”
“And I want you in it. C’mon, I know just the place.”
Jay looked at Sam with a frown of concentration. “You did your reconnaissance too, didn’t you?”
Working at Ombre was not a bad thing. It sure beat serving burgers and fries in Jay’s world. Coming and going together eased both their anxieties considerably. Two weeks after opening, the main security guy quit and Sam took over his position “temporarily”. Sam looked like he was born for it. He watched the crowd with eyes like a hawk, and could diffuse a situation just by being present. He was an imposing presence to begin with, but in black leather pants complete with studded belt, black motorcycle boots and the tight black T-shirt that showed off his pecs… Jay loved to see him prowl among the crowd.
Being in the gayest part of Los Angeles, most of the club’s patrons were, well gay, but not exclusively so. The clientele was also very trendy. The one thing Sam wasn’t good at was being diplomatic or delicate—he didn’t differentiate between somebodies and nobodies. One night when a young starlet—most likely high on something—made a scene and refused to calm down, Sam threw her out on her ears. Jay was familiar with her—more boobs than talent, her claims to fame were a sex video and a vague association with actual celebrities that she’d tried to turn into a career. Mr. Drake was not happy about the event, but Sam appeared equally unconcerned with Mr. Drake’s happiness.
“That security guy’s a hard case, isn’t he?” chuckled a man at the bar, as Jay handed him his drink.
“You have no idea,” Jay replied, eyes feasting over Sam.
“Is that so? That’s too bad,” the man said playfully.
Jay looked the man over. Jay was used to guys hitting on him and didn’t mind it one bit. It was good to know he still had it. This guy was in his forties, tastefully and expensively dressed. Jay recalled having seen him there a few times before. Under different circumstances Jay would’ve been interested.
“My name’s Foster. What’s yours?” the man said.
“Jason, but people call me Jay.”
“So you know that guy?” he asked.
“You could say that.”
“Is he always so take-charge?”
Now what the fuck was that about? Was the guy interested in Sam? Too fucking bad.
“Yeah, but you can forget about it. He’s taken,” he said edgily.
The guy wasn’t taken aback. “Don’t worry, Jay, you’d be more my type.”
He took his drink, winked, turned and walked away. Jay watched him for a few seconds as he disappeared into the crowd of beautiful people. Working, he felt sometimes like a diabetic in a candy store. Then he spotted Sam in the crowd, and didn’t mind all the other candy at all.
The other thing Sam and Jay did together was riding the Harley all over the place. Of course, with Sam even that had to have another angle. Every time they went somewhere Sam took a different route, and afterwards made Jay trace it on the map. If Jay got it wrong he spent the night alone on the couch. At least they had a couch, but still, Jay was not happy about sleeping on it, so he learned to pay attention.
Jay’s favorite rides were into the mountains—the roads were easy to remember, but mostly it was just a thrill zooming up and down on those narrow, winding mountain roads. Other bikers had the same idea, but because of their schedules, Sam and Jay often rode during the week, avoiding the weekend riders. When they stopped at the Boulder Cafe on Mulholland highway for a late lunch, they were the only ones on the shaded patio. There was a ranch almost across the road and the faint smell of horses lingered in the air. The pulled pork sandwich and ice tea lulled Jay into a state of tranquility. He eyed Sam admiringly.
“What?” Sam asked, glancing back.
“I was just thinking, you’re the best-looking guy I’ve been with for any amount of time.”
“Oh really? How’s that possible?” Sam asked, putting down his sandwich.
Jay shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe because most of the really good-looking guys I knew were lousy fucks. Well, there was this one guy in St. Louis, but he was an even bigger player than me. Anyway, I think I have a thing for love handles, wrinkles and stuff like that. Dave had male-pattern baldness to rival the British royal family,” Jay said pensively. He’d once been very fond of that bald patch.
“All the things that make a guy look older?” Sam asked, raising his brows.
Jay thought about that for a second. “Mmm, I suppose. That would explain why I find those silver hairs over your temple so damn sexy.”
Sam nodded, but didn’t comment. Instead he picked up his sandwich again.
“I guess I have more kinks than I thought. What’s yours? I mean, beside the obvious. Have you ever had any age preference?”
Sam put his food down again. “Not really, but they were all just quick fucks. Mikey was the only exception.”
“Were you and Mikey exclusive?”
Sam was quiet for a moment, and Jay wasn’t sure he would reply, but then he did. “More or less—mostly by necessity. We didn’t have what you’d call a relationship.”
“But you were more than just fuck buddies?”
“It started out as a convenient arrangement. It became an odd sort of friendship in time. There were certain things we couldn’t talk about with anyone else,” Sam explained reluctantly.
“I think I understand,” Jay said.
They finished their lunch, paid, but remained sitting. It was a slow day so nobody bothered them.
“Have you ever contacted your family since you left?” Sam asked at long last.
“Nah.”
“You know they could be worried. Your grandparents at least.”
“I doubt it. After I ran away for the first time they didn’t talk to me much anymore. They sort of just wrote me off along with Chrissy. I can’t really blame them. They probably figured I was a slut like her, and gay to boot. That didn’t fit too well with their Republican sensibilities.”
“Aren’t you their only grandson?”
“I don’t think that matters much.” Jay stopped, remembering something. “You know, Chrissy had…has a cousin who looks a lot like her, except with a completely opposite personality, all responsible and stuff. My grandparents started doting over her, even paid half her college tuition. That was before I ran away for the second time. I thought at the time it was kinda weird, but now I think they were grooming a replacement daughter. Hah, it didn’t even occur to me before
! They might have spare grandkids by now.”
“Maybe you should call them anyway.”
“No fucking way. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Talking about his family only depressed Jay, and it was too nice a day for that. He was glad that Sam didn’t press.
“All right, what do you want to talk about?” Sam asked.
Jay grinned. “How come you’re uncut?”
“What?”
“Your cock. Don’t worry, there’s nobody in hearing distance. I’ve been wondering because you don’t see many hooded dicks around. I knew a guy in Denver, but he was from Ukraine. He and his family moved to the States after Chernobyl. Apparently, in Europe boys don’t get snipped—only the Jews.”
“Yeah, it’s less common there.”
“Olek said his cockhead was more sensitive because of it. Is that true?”
“Obviously I don’t have a frame of reference, but yeah, it’s pretty sensitive.”
“Good to know. What’s your story then?”
“It’s because of my grandfather. He was dead-set against circumcision.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know for sure. My dad’s father came over from Poland after the war. He once said that he was saved from death by his foreskin.”
“How? Was he Jewish?”
“I dunno. He hated Jews, but then he hated pretty much everyone—blacks, liberals, feminists, republicans, politicians, the post office.”
Jay laughed. “We had a neighbor like that back in Kalamazoo. The only thing he liked was his lawn. He mowed it every Saturday, and then vacuumed off all the stray clippings.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Dead serious.”
On Saturday night the Ombre was packed as usual. He and the other bartender were busy as hell, and Jay barely had time to look around him, so it came as a shock when a familiar voice called to him from his end of the bar.
“Jay! Jay Colby! I can’t believe my eyes!”
