by Blair Aaron
--
He checked the analog clock on the dashboard, which read 12:05 AM. Ingram was late and the Saturday evening partiers were dwindling down the road in their sports cars and drunken shouting. The quietness to Carter was eerie, as he could hear the locusts in the night and feel the humid summer air wrap itself around his neck like a mildly suffocating cat. Nothing but silence when a mustang pulled into the parking lot. Carter could feel the paranoia of being watched all around him, through the trees across the street, the stares from the man at the register, watching him through the front window, all the passers-by getting gas at the pumps, the drunk fat girl competing for a spot in her friend's group. They all knew what he was doing, and they would stop him, just like Presley Watkins stopped him, and his own brother stopped him before that. The driver in the mustang got out of the car--it was Michael Ingram, dressed civilian uniform. He took a glance around him, finding no one suspicious, then got into the passenger seat of the blue truck.
“Did you get it?”
Ingram took a look at Carter from the corner of his eye. “Yes, calm down. I got what you wanted.”
“Well let's hear it then.” Carter grabbed the tape from Ingram's hand and popped it into the cassette player.
There were two voices mixed with the sound of cloth rubbed on a microphone (probably Ingram's coat pocket).
“Howdy partner. It's been a while. You ready to get some criminals?”
“Sure thing Lt.”
“What you been up to over your vacation the last few weeks?”
“Aw, nothing much. I was just hanging out with my wife. She's got this new technique she does with her tongue. Let me tell you.”
“Oh yeah? How was it?”
“Bitch can suck start a leaf blower ha-ha.”
“That's great man. I'm happy your marriage is going great.”
“So did you hear about that cowboy on death row?”
“What about him?”
“He got stabbed by another prisoner. He's recuperating in the hospital.”
“Deserves the son of a bitch right. Bastard had it coming.”
“We sure put him straight didn't we?”
“Hell yes we did. He never knew what was going to hit him. Glad we took care of that jury member too.”
“I took care of that jury member, remember, you pussy. And if it wasn't for me that cowboy would be home free. I had to make sure he was going to the chair.”
“You're a hero aren't ya.”
“What I did was between me and you. I can't get caught rigging things--” Carter stopped the tape, his eyes bright and full of life.
“That's it! We got him! Yeah, you did it.”
“Quiet your voice Carter. Now you've got something you can use, and I'll just say you put the thing in my pocket.”
“Ok ok.”
V
By the time the guards decided to break up the fight in the shower, three other prisoners had entered the area trying to help. One of them, Kwahu Ross, a Native American from Iowa, stood several inches above everyone else, second in stature only to Stetson himself. Ross found Pops the Queen with three broken teeth, a fractured cheek bone, busted rib, strained ankle and finger, and a torn ACL. Stetson had a mild bruise on his thigh.
“They really don't like you, do they?” he said, helping Stetson fold laundry in the back room.
“Jealous I guess.”
“No. You killed one of their own. You in small town, friend. Only big gang commit crimes. Have to survive.” The Indian looked away from Stetson and continued folding the towels. There was one other prisoner at the other end of the room, but it was clear he couldn't hear what their conversation was about.
Stetson was a good judge of character, even if he couldn't relate to many people well. This Kwahu Ross exhibited something otherworldly, something mystical, and it reminded Stetson of a time in childhood when he was still afraid of the dark, where the twilight area between sleep and wakefulness still held mystery. He couldn't quite figure out what Kwahu was about, but his gut told him that he was a good man, looking out for Stetson's best interest.
“You need help. You need friend,” he said, looking at Stetson knowingly. Stetson nodded. Yes he needed help. They said nothing else when the guard who tried to feed Stetson shit the day before yesterday entered the room with a malicious smile on his face. The man was small, feeble, dwarf-like.
“Mr. Carthswaite! We're looking for some labor on the other wing! Why don't you come with me, and I'll protect you.” Stetson gave one last look at Kwahu before going.
“Stay safe friend,” he said, cutting his eyes almost imperceptibly in the dwarf-guard's direction.
That night, Stetson lied in his cell, his back aching from the earlier fight, and he dreamed of Carter. He imagined this time he was in a boat with Carter, on a lake in Michigan, maybe. The pine trees bristled in the distance as Carter bent over the boat, taking him in from behind, no one else on the lake, nothing to disturb them. Carter's skin glistened beautifully in the sunlight and they decided it would be time to jump in the lake to skinny dip. Carter went first, and Stetson stood over the boat, looking down on Carter with a smile on his face. Then he dropped his trousers and jumped in after, making a large splash in the water appropriate for a man his size. He then chased Carter naked through the cold water, as the sun beat hard and hot down on the back of their necks. Carter tried to swim faster than Stetson but unsurprisingly he was no match. The lake's depths weren't captured well by the blue water, so as he overcame Carter in their silent swimming match, he could see him in all his glory underneath water. He grabbed him from behind, stroking in the water, attempting to get his member fully engorged. He wrapped his large, thick arms around Carter in a semi-headlock, the way a male best friend would. But Carter wasn't just Stetson's best friend. He was his love. He ran his hand underneath the water, along the crack of his butt, between his legs. The water made the inside of Carter's thighs smooth and slick as he snuggled underneath Stetson's massive frame in the water. Stetson held Carter up in the water as he would a small ballerina, or a baby he was cooing at. He tossed him high into the air, and Carter let out a squeal of delight, landing back in the water with joy. He fell too deep and Stetson wondered where he went, worrying if perhaps he drowned. After a few seconds, the guy didn't emerge from the depths of the lake and Stetson began to panic. The total of losing him wasn't bearable.
He dove into the lake, swimming down and down, toward the bottom of the lake, the pressure of the water crushing his face with every inch he moved down. After a few moments, he had to use all his strength to fight his way down into the depths of the lake, where the sunlight above could not penetrate. Stetson closed his eyes, reaching into the darkness for Carter, until his fingers hit sand. He dug into the mud on the bottom of the lake, unable to find any sign of his love. He fought and fought and fought to no avail, to the point he could no longer hold his breath. He swam up into the light vigorously before he drowned. At the surface of the lake, he could find no sign of Carter, who was gone from him forever. And then he woke up.
VI
Carter walked into the court house of Baggs, Wyoming sweating. He was a small gay guy in a hateful little city. He could practically feel the hatred beating down him from the clerks and officers in the building. He walked straight up to the same clerk who had dismissed him a few months back.
“I need to speak with the judge,” he said. The black woman laughed.
“The judge does not see random homosexuals, sir.”
“Bitch just let me talk to him. Is he in his office today?”
“Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. I regardless, it's your place to enter someone's office when you don't have permission.”
“I have something I need to show him about my friend's trial. It's important. An emergency.” The police officer watched from a distance, trying to be discreet while still keeping an eye on the situation.
“Sir, I done told you. You need to go home; the judge won't see you.�
��
“Who do I have to talk to with some sense around here? I need to see the judge, and I'm not leaving until you let me in.”
The woman deliberately amplified her voice to make a scene. “Sir, I told you! We cannot let you in his office. He doesn't see random people from the street. If you need to submit a formal complaint, then just get a lawyer.”
In that moment, Carter could no longer control himself. Everything that had been building up since he lost Maddox came to head; images sped through his mind like a racing movie projector--Jaidon killing his boyfriend, being kidnapped, Presley Watkins arresting Stetson, the trial, the verdict, the sentencing. It was just all too much. He blew up.
“Listen to me you ignorant bitch. I'm going to see the judge no matter what. I'm going to show him what I have. If you don't cooperate I'll go to the Chicago Sun Times and tell everyone how much trouble you're giving me, and in three days you'll have a swarm of reporters, camera men, and talk show hosts interviewing you about why you didn't help the poor little gay boy from getting help. I'll make your life hell. Now get me the FUCKING JUDGE!”
She was taken aback, but now the police officers made their over to his direction.
“Sir is there a problem?”
“It's okay,” the judge said from behind the counter. Now everyone in the building was looking in Carter's direction. At this point, he was used to it. “Let me hear what he wants to show me. Let's go back into my office, son.”
Carter followed the judge into his office and showed him the tape, which detailed Presley Watkins rigging the jury.
“Doesn't that demand a retrial?” Carter asked.
The judge sat silently for a pregnant moment before saying anything. Carter was certain the judge would help him this time. “Whose voice is that besides Watkins?”
“It's Michael Ingram. I slipped a tape recorder in his pocket.”
“Does Watkins know his partner was spying on him?”
“What does it matter, judge?”
“I think it's time I paid a visit to Mr. Watkins office.”
“No you can't do that, sir. He'll destroy Detective Ingram.” At this point, Carter was just desperate. His pulse pounded and the room started spinning. If the judge didn't help him, if he was on Watkins' side, Carter's plan would completely backfire. There was be no retrial. There would be no redemption. Everything would be lost. Carter thought this as he sat back in the chair, watching the judge put on his coat, walk out of the courthouse, across the street, and into the police department.
Redeeming the Stallion
The Last Meal
I
The week before Stetson Carthswaite was scheduled to be executed by the state of Wyoming, he formed a friendship with the mysterious Kwahu Ross, a Native American spiritual leader whom the local Idaho town cast out for dabbling in “black magic.” He confided in Stetson, and only Stetson, that he was indeed capable of magical forces and that he need not be present for them to work their wonders. Stetson, being somewhat stressed out given his impending ride on the electric chair, courtesy of the government, and being a mild skeptic, was inclined to dismiss Kwahu in that moment. But something made him reconsider his first reaction to Kwahu's admission, after what happened to his arch nemesis, Pops the Queer.
Several prisoners Kwahu Ross had befriended before Stetson arrived in Wyoming State Penitentiary told Stetson (after they could trust him) why Pops virtually disappeared from the prison. They said that Pops was found with his legs completely turned the opposite direction, like a giant might tear apart a Barbie doll in anger. Kwahu's friends implicitly knew he was responsible, but none of the guards or wardens ever considered Kwahu a suspect, considering he was kept on strict lockdown nearly 24/7.
The news really unnerved Stetson, not because he saw Pops' body and not because he thought Kwahu had committed the crime by somehow escaping his cell. What really unsettled him was the separate but related news that the prison kept Kwahu on total lock down. Prisoners in total lock down were allowed a brief moment of freedom--to shower, to shit, or a 15 minute walk around the courtyard once a week. Prisoners on lockdown were not allowed to contribute to laundry duty, or to eat with fellow inmates at lunch, as Kwahu had done with Stetson not a month ago.
So there were only one of three possibilities: one, that Stetson was losing his mind, which wasn't impossible considering the circumstances; two, that the guards broke the rules and let Kwahu out; or three, that Kwahu was capable of supernatural feats. Stetson could not figure out which possibility he believed in, and the dilemma occupied his mind constantly, probably as a way of coping with his impending death. There was no getting out of this one, and Stetson concentrated on this local petty mystery spread throughout the prison gossip circles in order to take his mind off the unbearable. He was going to die, and he would do it alone, with no one who cared about his legacy. Carter Simmons occupied his mind as well, especially his dreams, which were at this point becoming practically hallucinations. One night in particular, as he was lying in bed listen to a storm outside, a shadow appeared in the hallway, and as it turned the corner, he could tell it was Carter. Excited he jumped up from his bed and started banging on the window.
“You're here. How did ya get in?” Stetson asked but Carter wouldn't say anything. Stetson reached through the door to touch his face, caressing Carter's soft cheek with his big hand. Carter pulled out some keys and unlocked the door, letting Stetson out of his cell.
“They got my cuffed, kid.” Carter then walked into the cell and pulled out another set of keys, snuffing Stetson from the metal post on the bed. Stetson jumped up, his side still in pain and walked out of the cell, paranoid of the cameras in the corner of the room. Carter led him into a guard's office-room, where another tall white man was sitting in a rolling chair. Carter, without saying a word, immediately began taking off his clothes, his red plaid shirt first. He smiled at Stetson, revealing a much more defined chest and shoulder build.
“You been working out boy?” Stetson smiled, instantly getting a hard-on. He looked to his right as the guard next to him stood up, with a sexual twinkle in his eyes.
“Let's do this guys,” he said, as if he were commanding a fleet of warriors going into battle. The guy unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a massive chest covered lightly with dark black hair. The guy had a pasty white complexion, northern European in origin, and his eyes sunk back in his eye, creating a skull-like visage on the man. Stetson was not normally attracted to other guys, but it was clear Carter wanted him here.
“Leave,” Stetson said. The guy stopped, anxious that he wasn't wanted.
“No let him stay. I want a threesome,” Carter said, smiling. Stetson relented and started taking off his shoes. Carter continued undressing, dropping his pants and underwear, where he was not yet erect. The other man stared back and forth between the two of them, excited about the show, and then took his hat and glasses off. His hair was much lighter than Stetson, though still blonde, and he had soft fuzz running along his arms. His biceps were massive, mounds of rock-hard dough molded on the middle of his arm. His waist was somewhat wide, like a statue from Greece, complete with a tapered V shape. Stetson found himself a little uncomfortable at first, but soon loosened the tightness of his chest as he saw Carter make out with the guy. It was glorious. Their thick, soft lips intermingled, twisting and changing shape like they were two hungry animals anxious to fuse. There was soft sucking sounds on their lips and Stetson's member became engorged with blood. The experience was surreal, dream-like, almost something he couldn't imagine was even happening. But happening it was, as Stetson stepped out of his orange prison jump suit. Carter was completely naked now, the man next to him making out with him, running his surprisingly effeminate hands up and down Carter's backside. Carter's softer parts depressed under the weight of the man's embraces, and it was a visual feast to watch his love taken by another man. The guard molded Carter's body to his will, squeezing the inner part of his thigh, stroking his erect penis, rubbing
his thumb along the inside of Carter's knee, sculpted and shaped perfectly from what seemed like flesh-colored stone. Carter got down on his knees and began unbuckling the man's belt, and the guard helped him along. Carter took one look at Stetson for approval and smiled in anticipation. He pulled down the guy's underwear revealing thick black pubic hair covered a massive cock. The guy whispered nothings into the air, as Carter sucked and licked on the underside of the man's penis, letting the snake hang over the top of his face. The guard didn't move, simply watching Carter give him pleasure silently. Stetson began to get irritable and approached the two men, unbuckling his own pants and smiling in anticipation of sharing his love's mouth with another man. The newness of the experience was electrified, tingling in the deepest parts of Stetson's repressed libido. Carter caught on very quickly to what Stetson wanted and switched over to his erect cock, lathering the underside with his saliva, leaving streams of spit from the tip. Carter's mouth was moist and velvet as he continued massaging Stetson's balls with deep throating his entire manhood. He smiled up at Carter with his eyes, happy to see Stetson happy. The guard, though, was becoming increasingly irritable, anxious that he wouldn't share the pleasure he was received with another person. It seemed as if the guard wanted to say, without saying, that he wasn't there just to watch. He was there to have some fun. Stetson, on a whim, curious as to what another guy's penis felt like, when he'd only touched two other penises his entire life, began stroking his cock without looking in the guard's direction. Stetson immediately felt self-conscious but looked away, although he continued to stroke the guy consistently. He looked down at Carter who continued pleasing him and motioned for him to stand up and turn around. He obliged, revealing a tight butt waiting for his firm members to slide into like a teen male's hand in a baseball glove on a hot day. But something came over Stetson and he looked at the microphone, only a little smaller than his member, and had an idea. Carter looked at Stetson's gaze, practically reading his mind, and nodded his consent. Stetson continued stroking the guard with one hand, and grabbed the microphone with the other. He put the end near Carter's entrance and pushed firmly. Carter, who was used to being entered by men, let out only a small whimper and then a moan of pleasure. Stetson was the only person who had ever violated him in that way, and it was territory which brought them closer together. Carter also had never participated in a threesome, but tonight was a new night, considering that they might never see each other again. Carter lay his head on his forearm, letting Stetson push the microphone in and out of him smoothly. It was obvious he was having a good time. Stetson finally looked over at the guard, who was really getting into being stroked by Stetson. It was also clear that the guard never had been with a guy and was somewhat smitten with Stetson, in the way other, inferior men admire strong, attractive males without necessarily wanting to have sex with them. The blonde guard smiled maliciously at Stetson, in a familiar way that reminded Stetson vaguely of someone he met in a past life, or long forgotten dream, and whom he hated. This wasn't the same person, Stetson knew that, but he couldn't help but make the association. Nevertheless, it was high time Stetson entered Carter anally, but he considered for a second what a thrill it would be to have Carter watch him suck off another guy. He pulled the microphone out of Carter, who could see it was time for another adventure and looked over at Stetson, who began to lower himself to waist level of the guard. He looked at Carter for a few seconds and then began to suck off the guard. The guard, given that Stetson was this close to another man's nether regions, smelled as you might imagine a forest ranger would who bathed in distilled water, simultaneously pure but still wild, unkempt, airy, and clean. Carter's erection grew visibly stronger at the sight of the straightest cowboy he knew sucking off another man, who was almost as big as he was. It was incredible and a rush to experience the moment through Carter's eyes. Stetson looked up at the guard, who stared down his body at him, a smile on his face. Stetson grabbed the guy with both hands on either side of his waist in an effort to better control the movements of his thrusting. The guard's member moved in and out, in regular motion, a mild pressure on the back of Stetson's throat, which grew stronger with each thrust. He thought for a second it would be interesting to experience what it felt like to deep throat someone, and it was clear this was something Carter would enjoy watching by the look on his face. He took the man's waist and stopped him from thrusting so he could take a deep breath, and then without any warning pulled the guy's waist toward, pushing his erection into his throat, past his tonsils, and down his esophagus. He gagged a little, but it was interesting.
