by Willa Okati
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Torquere Press
www.torquerepress.com
Copyright ©2007 by Willa Okati
First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2007
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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What would you do if you could change the world?
Well, that's the question, isn't it?
Prologue
August—is it the fifteenth or the sixteenth? I can't recall. It doesn't matter.
The unexpected happened today. The best and the worst.
Andy appeared on Instant Messenger.
I suppose he knows better than to call—he knows I don't answer the phone—I just don't. He asked me to come and visit the hometown sometime. Spend the weekend in a quieter place—not so quiet these days, since the area is becoming choked by tourists—but more peaceful. In its way.
He said he'd like to see me again, and I laughed. Good thing he couldn't hear. The joke would have escaped him, as I never told him why I left in the first place and why I stay away. It's not a yen for the bright lights of the city, the high life, the cafes or the parties or the clubs—God knows I never go near them.
My agent says I'm on the verge of becoming a genuine hermit.
It's not that I don't want to go “home". It's that every time I'm near Andy, I come dangerously close to losing control.
Because I want him, you see. And I can't have him. He belongs to Jonas and has for almost ten years.
Andy ... he has no idea how much I want to be near him, to be with him. He doesn't know, he never has, and I will never get the chance to say the words.
It's why I lead the sort of life I do, I suppose, clinging to my apartment and occasionally indulging in the sort of company that'll give me what I want and ask no questions, make no demands. Paid company, yes, but they do what they're told and then they go away. No strings. It's better that way.
Ten years. What an awfully long time. And yet it seems so short, as if only days have passed.
It strikes me as funny how Andy casually threw out a “someday soon", but then again he still hasn't realized that whenever he asks me to visit I'm on my way not five minutes later. Even though I know far, far better.
I'm writing this on the plane, the first flight available, hiding my PDA screen from the overly curious executive in the next seat over.
Damn me.
This cannot end well.
Chapter One
The phone shrilled abruptly, loud peals clamoring for attention in the otherwise quiet motel room.
Quiet, that was, except for the wet sounds of deep-throated sucking and heavy, ragged breaths.
"Don't get that,” Jaden's companion ordered, drawing off to tease Jaden's cockhead with a pointed tongue-tip. “Not now. Just let it ring, baby."
Jaden ignored the request of his rented company, who he'd found lounging casually by the exit terminal of the airport. On a whim, he'd decided to hire the hooker for the duration of his stay. Why not? He shifted slightly, turning his head to bring the phone into view. Medium beige, standard issue, manufactured by the ton and installed in motel rooms across the country.
Not entirely without personality, though. One long, zigzagging crack running horizontally down the near side. A smudgy melted spot—a cigarette burn, perhaps? Five grubby fingerprints. The “0” button had gone missing at some point in the thing's life.
The rings came with the regularity of heartbeats, demanding his attention. Their jangling rhythm ... fascinating.
"Fuck, I can hear you thinking. I said, don't get that.” Jaden's paid guest grasped his cock in one hand and nuzzled that hot mouth beneath, tonguing Jaden's balls, licking, teasing, then sucking one between his lips.
The phone fell silent. Jaden relaxed, startled by how tense the aborted call had made him. His muscles were sore as if he'd been running for hours, not been woken up from a solid night's sleep by a blowjob.
"Mmm. Yeah. Better.” The hooker massaged Jaden's thighs, stroking up and down. “No interruptions, huh?"
"No,” Jaden agreed.
His voice came out husky, which many might have mistaken for passion and the heat of the moment. Were the truth to be told, he rarely spoke, not unless he had to—a conversation with his agent or a publisher that couldn't be take care of online; orders for pizza, Chinese, or Italian when he'd run out of frozen food and couldn't be bothered to cook; awkward pleasantries when a fan recognized him. Altogether, his silence had changed his tone from a pleasant tenor to a hoarse rasp. He'd lost his Southern accent entirely.
"Go on and do what you're paid for. Finish this.” He reached for the guy's name and came up blank. Admitting that seemed like a bad idea, so he just pushed at “Hooker"'s shoulder. “Time is money. You should know that."
Hooker glanced up, his hazel eyes sharp, cynical, and far too knowing. He licked his lips, then bent to lick the base of Jaden's cock. Trailing his tongue up to the head, he pulled the organ back into his mouth and went to work.
Jaden tried to relax, gazing at the ceiling. Tried to let Hooker's talented mouth take him away, give him something to feel, and then draw him into a burst of beautiful nothingness.
He couldn't.
Gazing at the ceiling, waiting patiently for a climax now instead of looking forward to it, he counted water stains, chipped tiles, and yellow patches from cigarette smoke. Almost absently, mostly to give the impression of still being interested, he tangled his fingers in Hooker's springy, red hair. He tugged the curls rhythmically, counting each pull, one per second. Hooker made a happy noise, going after Jaden's cock with double the enthusiasm.
Jaden decided that at least he had chosen a whore who knew what he was doing. Hooker had a fine working knowledge of how to use his tongue, pierced through its meat with a solid silver bar. He seemed to like trailing that bar's rounded end-cap over spots that should have been sensitive. Should have made Jaden jerk and gasp.
All he felt was a vague sense of warm metal, distant, as if it wasn't really him in the bed and not his autopilot erection being lavished with attention. The red curls in his fingers turned from silky to dry, rough straw.
His ankle itched.
"It's all right,” Hooker crooned when he didn't have his mouth full. “I know what you need. Chill and let me take care of you."
Jaden tightened his grip on Hooker's hair. He gave it a sharp yank, wanting the man to react to pain as a man should, rising up to swear at him, not taking what Jaden dealt him without complaint.
Contrary to expectations and hopes, Hooker purred, bumping his scalp into Jaden's fingers, then attacked Jaden's cock with greater fervor still.
One could just about imagine he genuinely enjoyed his work.
The phone began to shriek again.
"Don't,” Hooker pulled off to snap, clearly irritated. He'd already proven himself to be ‘unprofessionally’ bossy and rude. Not exactly value for Jaden's dollar, but he couldn't be bothered to care. “Doesn't matter who's calling. Fuck them. Let them wait. We're busy, aren't we?"
Too late. Jaden had already laid hands on the sticky receiver, lifting and placing it to the left side of his head. “Andy. Hello."
"Hey, buddy. I half thought you weren't gonna answer or maybe decided not to come. Didn't wake you up, did I?"
Jaden closed his eyes, wishing he could roll around in the sound of Andy's voice, wallow in the Southern molas
ses drawl until he was coated in the man's essence.
He couldn't let the pause go on. Andy would wonder why he wasn't responding.
Andy couldn't see this as anything but a phone call between two friends.
Long-time friends.
Nothing but friends.
Jaden chose his words carefully but spoke casually. “I've been up for a while. The first time the phone rang I was in the bathroom.” He made himself chuckle. “Had to piss like a racehorse and couldn't really stop to make a run for the phone."
"You and your perfect timing. So, Mr. Big-Shot who probably has people calling from all over this damn globe, how'd you know it was me?"
"Anyone else would only know my cell number, and I've switched that off. Besides, who else but you would know what motel I'd be likely to stay in, much less call at this ungodly hour?"
"Ungodly? Damn, you've been in the city too long. Seven a.m. is pretty godly so far as I'm concerned. Good ol’ boys like me have to be up before the break of dawn, feeding chickens, milking cows, shoveling stalls—"
"A likely story. You don't have a single bit of livestock on your place."
"Damn! You got me. Nope, we've got plans, but still no actual stock unless you count the dogs."
"Plans. Cowboy wanna-be."
"Can I help it if I have dreams of being the Marlboro Man? At any rate, we do have the dogs, and they're wilder than a herd of cattle. Make just about as much noise. too."
Not an exaggeration. Jaden could hear bays, barks, and howls in the background, a cacophony fit to wake the dead.
"Get down! You heard me—I said, down!” Andy scolded. “There's a good boy, yeah. Sit. Stay. Good boy. You still don't get any bacon, though, you old beggar."
Jaden listened to the sound of Andy's voice, the whines of a mongrel trying to coax forbidden treats out of his master—forbidden, ha, as if that dog wouldn't get the strip of bacon he begged for—and the hissing, sizzling noises of something cooking. Knowing Andy, he probably had several dishes going at once on his old stove, each concoction loaded with fat and better tasting than any five-star fare Jaden could get in the city.
He listened, closed his eyes, and let a wave of pleasure deeper than anything he'd gotten from Hooker's attempt at fellatio wash over him.
"Sorry about that,” Andy apologized, coming back to their conversation. Jaden could almost see the tickled expression on the man's face and his rawboned hand ruffling the short fur on a hound's neck. “These guys don't know when to quit. Jonas figures he's got them trained, but they have him fooled. Good as gold when he's around, but when he's out of their sight? Uh-uh."
A flicker of interest tickled Jaden's heart, making his heart stutter. “Jonas isn't with you?"
"Nah. He's out on the porch with his favorite pup. Ugliest dog you ever saw, and there aren't any beauty queens in the rest of our pack, for damn sure. Jonas won't hear a word to the contrary, though, when it comes to Ruff. Calls him the cutest thing ever and lets that two pounds of fur haul him around by one pinky finger.” Jaden wallowed in the warmth of Andy's words and the fond, curling tones of his voice. “He'll be in as soon as he smells the bacon, unless he falls back asleep in the sunshine."
The flutter had long since died. “How is Jonas?"
"Crazy. As usual. He had a gig over in Burnside last night, three counties away. Dragged my ass along to help play roadie."
"As if you didn't go willingly."
"Yeah, well ... whichever way, we didn't get home until right about dawn."
Jaden's eyebrows drew together. “Didn't you go to bed?"
"You know we did. Then we napped for a while, but I got up to cook and where I go, he follows, same as I do with him. He might bitch all the way, but he follows."
"Still joined at the hip,” Jaden said softly.
"What?"
"Nothing. Never mind. Why are you cooking when you should be asleep?"
"Damn. You are still half asleep. As if I'd miss out on our traditional breakfast the first morning after you roll back into town. Full-course and Southern-style, enough to get a farmer set for the day. Get showered, dressed, whatever, and scoot on over here. Eggs suck when they're cold."
"Right.” Jaden dry-washed his face with one palm. “Right. Sorry. I guess I am a little out of it."
"Late night?"
"More or less,” Jaden lied. “I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"That'll do. If there's any traffic, detour down the side of the road, you hear? More than fifteen and you're risking the life of this omelet, which is one of my best ever if I say so myself."
"What kind of traffic am I likely to run across in your neck of the woods?"
"Hey, last time—fuck, when was that, a couple of years ago?—you spent an hour crawling behind Old Man Thompson on his tractor. We ate everything waiting on you to get here, wondering if we should call search and rescue."
"I'm not too citified to handle myself on a dirt road. Besides, it turned out all right. You cooked a second time and ate another breakfast with me."
"Yeah. We ate. You drank half a cup of coffee. Go to wasting food like a picky cat this time around and I'll tie you down until you've eaten enough for two men. Fuck, you were skinny the last time I saw you. If you're even skinnier now, I'll whip your flat tail from here to Georgia and then I'll stuff you full of peaches."
Jaden ran his thumb over the phone's mouthpiece, imagining the tacky plastic to be the hard angle of Andy's jaw, bristly with stubble as yet unshaven. Pretending he could feel Andy's breath puffing against his ear instead of coming through detached over the lines. “I've put on weight."
"Liar, liar, pants on fire. Get that bony butt out here so we can feed you up right. Less than fifteen minutes, now, and the clock's ticking. Hustle!"
"I'm on my way.” Jaden didn't say good-bye. He and Andy never did. Returning the handset to its cradle, he realized he still had Hooker's hair tangled around the fingers of one hand and worked them loose.
Free, Hooker sat up, rising to his knees between Jaden's parted legs. “Guess there's no point in asking if I can finish what I started, is there?” he asked dryly.
"Not really."
"Figured. Not like I didn't expect you to run off on your own. People always do. Should I leave now myself, or what?"
"No. No, stay, unless you're needed elsewhere. I said the arrangement was for the duration of my time here. I haven't changed my mind."
Hooker shrugged. “Your money, your call. I don't have anywhere else to be. So what should I do while you're gone?"
"That's not my problem. Watch TV. I think the office has a game console or something for rent. Whatever you want—just don't get into my belongings.” Jaden worked his way free of Hooker and the bed and stood up. “You moved my suitcase. Where?"
"By the door.” Jaden's hooker rearranged himself to lie back on his arms. He looked younger by morning's light, almost a boy, but retained the world-weary expression of someone two or three times his age, a veteran's stare. “I had this crazy daydream about winning you over after I blew your mind. Every whore has their ‘Pretty Woman’ fantasy. As if.” Hooker snorted rudely. “Go on. I'll be here when you get back."
Jaden opened his suitcase and sorted through the crisp, new jeans he'd bought for this trip. “I'm sorry,” knowing his tone betrayed the fact that he was anything but. “Are you that eager to go? If you really want to leave, then by all means, be my guest. Put a taxi to the Greyhound station on my room account."
Hooker whistled. “Cold, Jaden. Fucking cold. What would your friend say if he knew what you were really like? Bet he'd be shocked."
Jaden refused to look back as he picked out clothes rich enough to impress and plain enough to fit in. He didn't answer.
More or less because he knew his hooker was telling the truth.
"Hooker".
God help him, he didn't even know the man's real name.
Chapter Two
Pulling into the hard-packed dirt drive of Andy's house, Ja
den felt oddly as if he was not coming home. It felt too strange to struggle with maneuvering the rented, low-slung sedan, so out of place where he'd grown up.
In times past, before he'd gone to the city to make his fortune—and God, didn't that seem like a lifetime ago—he'd torn up the earthen roads with their deeply carved wheel ruts in his uncle's old Plymouth, its shocks and brakes shot all to hell and its steering column tilted, having the time of his life.
Jaden jounced over a sunken crater in the dirt and came to a stop. His engine whined, not at all pleased by the rough treatment. Persnickety beast, she demanded streets as smooth as silk where she could shift fluidly from “lazy drive” to “watch me fly” with nothing to get in her way. A temperamental thoroughbred to the bone.
This rented car didn't belong here any more than he did himself.
Other things fit far better. For one, Andy's brown-and-cream pickup truck, which he'd owned since before Jaden had gotten his own personal junker. Andy had learned how to drive sitting on his daddy's lap, and been on the roads long before he had a license. Jaden had worried about Andy in their teenage years—reckless road races, stomping on the gas before hitting speed bumps for the sake of a second's freefalling flight, daring the law to come after his hide.
Andy? He'd laughed at Jaden's nerves, slung his arm around Jaden's shoulders, and told Jaden not to fret. Taking on so would make him an old man before his time. They were young, so why not live for all they were worth before they got too stiff in the joints to enjoy themselves?
Jaden always found that Andy's unsquashable good nature was enough to make him smile. Make him return the one-armed hug and trust his friend time and time again. Things had been easy between them back then, no questions or complications to get in the way.
That's a long time gone, isn't it?
He wondered how Andy managed to keep his old Ford running.
Jaden's jaw tightened marginally as he registered the sight of a newer-model Dodge Ram parked to one side. Jonas'. Splattered streaks of mud, probably from an off-road joy ride, didn't hide her beauty. Glossy green from hood to trunk with jacked-up tires. Even with a bed full of battered boxes and crates she still looked like a queen of the back country. Tough as leather and proud as a peacock.
