"My life has changed. There's no question about it," said Billy toward the window, his gaze looking out into the world, not seeing the brick-walled alley, but instead a fantasy of a future that was coming to play out.
"Are you interested in my advice?" Jericho asked.
"Of course," said Billy. He turned his gaze back toward Jericho.
"Well, I think that you should go for what you truly want. Don't place it on me or Hank or the show, or even your parents. Decide what it is that you want just for you and do that. In the long run you can't go wrong if you follow your own heart and your own desires." It was the best advice Jericho could give, it was advice he wished someone had given him when he was in his early twenties.
Easy for him, Billy thought. He had his life. He had his apartment. But, he seemed so lonely so much of the time. If not lonely, then at least alone. That wasn't what Billy wanted for himself. He knew that it was time to leave Jericho's apartment. It was time that he was out on his own, even if that was with Hank. "Thank you for that, my friend," Billy finally said. They had become friends. There was no question or doubt about that. "I've got to shower. There's a matinee today," said Billy. He got up and was at the door when he returned to the table, picked up his pack of cigarettes, and as an afterthought, kissed the top of Jericho's head.
The two men held their position for a moment, both waiting for the other to make the next move.
Jericho wanted to reach under the boy's robe and fondle him. He wanted to pull Billy into his lap and kiss him. He wanted to fuck the boy, there on the kitchen table in the streaming morning sunlight. He didn't follow through on any of those thoughts. A resolve came over him that it was time to let this boy go as he let go of all the other young men who passed through his life.
Billy realized in that moment, now growing a bit awkward, that his time with Jericho really was over. Their professional ties would continue to grow stronger, but the heat, the sexual tension, that fantasy was done. The boy felt a twinge of regret that it'd never happened. At the same time, Billy became certain that he did want to move in with Hank. He liked the idea of living with a lover, of being part of a couple. And, if for some reason it didn't work out, he could always move on again. He realized that fear of the unknown was no reason not to take the chance with Hank. And, knowing that he now had a nest egg, offered him more options. He'd never have to be dependent on anyone, at least not financially. Maybe following his heart really would be the right thing to do.
"Shower," he said softly and left Jericho alone in the kitchen with his New York Times, coffee, cigarettes, and sunshine. In another day or two he'd tell Jericho about his decision to move in with Hank.
* * *
"Hi Handsome," said Hank as Billy turned into the theater alley. There weren't any other actors or technicians smoking in the open space between the two theaters.
"Hi!" Billy wrapped his arms around Hank and kissed him hard on the mouth. "I've been thinking about you and missing you all morning." Billy wanted to tell Hank about his decision to move in together, but he held back.
"Same here." They kissed again. "But, I have to tell you it was nice to get some sleep."
A cast member came through the open gate from the street and let out a loud catcall. The men turned with smiles toward the perpetrator. "Hi Sheila," Billy said with a sheepish wave toward the chorus girl who waved back and slipped into the stage door.
"Dinner between shows? Maybe Chinese in your dressing room?" Hank asked.
"No, the last time we did that the smell lingered for days. Why don't we head over to that Irish bar on 10th Avenue." He'd tell Hank at dinner.
"Fine," said Hank, disappointed that there wouldn't be a quickie between shows. "I've got to go. All that makeup takes forever." They kissed again and waved to each other as Hank crossed 47th Street to his own theater stage door.
"God, he's gorgeous. If you two ever want to experiment with a girl, well, I'm your chick," said Nancy Ann good naturedly as she entered the alley.
"How are you, my dear?" asked Billy as he kissed both of her cheeks.
Together they walked toward the stage door. "I'm good," said the stage manager balancing several cups of coffee and a brown paper bag. Billy held the door open for her. "Listen," she said as they entered the theater, "I've been thinking about your one-man show. I would love to work as your stage manager and maybe offer a little direction if you'd like. I'm feeling ready to branch out. We get along well. And, you'll need someone you like and can trust."
"I would love that," said Billy.
Three people approached Nancy Ann and raided the collection of coffee and goodies she'd returned with leaving her with a single cup in her hand.
"Do you have a minute?" asked Billy
"Sure," she said and stepped in closer to him.
"Let's go downstairs to my dressing room," he said, leading the way. The room was chilly. Nancy Ann turned up the space heater to high as Billy closed the door behind them. "You'd think the star would have better accommodations," he said with a quirky smile.
"I guess you're not as much of a star as the papers say." Nancy Ann removed the lid and took a sip of steaming coffee. She offered the cup to Billy who also took a sip and returned it.
"Listen, I've been thinking about something and since you're now on board with my project as director slash stage manager…"
"Really!" Nancy Ann hugged Billy. Her coffee jostled within the cardboard cup confines, threatening to spill.
"Yes." Billy took the cup from her hands to save it. He took a sip and returned it to its owner. "If you can't be more careful I'll have to take this away from you."
"So, what's your thought?" she asked with a glance at her watch, now officially late.
"What if we turned this into a two-man show. Me and Hank?"
"I think you'd sell out every night. The two hotties of Broadway in one show. The women and queers would keep you sold out for a year in advance. Is he interested?"
"I haven't asked him yet," said Billy. I wanted someone else's advice.
"Well, kid, you've got it. If he's interested the two of you would be wonderful together and make a fortune." Nancy Ann looked at her watch again. "Sorry, Billy, but I've got to run. Preshow check."
"Go, go," he said absently.
She kissed him on both cheeks again. "Billy, I really do think this is an incredible idea and I'm so pleased that you've added me to the mix of it. Gotta run!" Nancy Ann quickly opened and closed the door as she slipped out. She also left her coffee behind for Billy, who sipped it and thought more about his future.
* * *
Aamil worked at his bench while thoughts about the previous day's Flash Mob ran like a loop in his head. Each moment replayed over and over; each step he took, taken again; each man he interacted with during the dance slowly evolved into a love scene. He didn't hear the knock at the door until it turned into pounding. The young man's heart skipped a beat. No one ever came to see him in the middle of the day.
Aamil looked out the peep hole. There, in distorted form, was a guy he knew from the kebab shop. They'd never spoken before.
"Aamil," the young man whispered. "I can see your shadow under the door. I know you're there. Quick, let me in before someone see's me."
Aamil opened his door and let him in, quickly shutting the door behind him. The two stood and looked at each other in the shadows.
"I'm…" he hesitated, but pushed forward after a beat, "…I'm Abdul Nasser. People call me Nasser."
They shook hands. Aamil knew this boy. Well, not really "knew" him, but he'd seen Nasser before, at the kebob stand. He'd fantasized about him. Now, here he was at his door. Aamil felt like he might pass out, but took several shallow breaths to regain his composure. He was thankful that his small apartment was poorly lit; it hid his current shock of emotions.
"Come in," said Aamil. He led them into his tiny living and work space. His heart pounded. Was this a trick? What did this guy want?
"Listen, I know th
is is weird and against the rules, but…" again Nasser hesitated.
Aamil waited, wordless, hoping the intruder couldn't hear his heart pounding.
"I saw it," said his guest.
"What?" asked Aamil.
"The video of yesterday's Flash Mob. I saw you there. I know it was you."
The two looked hard into the other's eyes. It all happened faster than Aamil ever thought it could.
"I want to do it, too," said Nasser looking around the room.
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Aamil. That was what he'd decided he would say if anyone from the organization asked about it or suggested that they'd seen him.
"The Flash Mob. You dressed like a sailor, dancing with all those other men. How did you get involved? How can I get involved?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. You shouldn't be here. We'll get into trouble."
"Aamil, I know. But, we're not on their list for today. You know that. I live here in this building, too. I've been watching you. I followed you two weeks ago to that place on Lexington. All those men standing outside smoking. You passed through them and into the building. I followed you again last week to the same place, this time some of those white men knew you. I saw the video."
Aamil didn't know what to say. He thought he'd prepared for this, but now that it was happening he didn't know what to do. He thought about the tools at hand. He could kill the handsome man standing so close to him he could feel the heat emanating from his body. But, he couldn't. He wouldn't kill another man, not with his own hands even though his father had taught him how. That was many years ago, a lifetime ago. Aamil’s thoughts wandered to his dead father and he felt a pang of guilt, first for breaking the rules and interacting in such a personal way with the infidels. But, that shifted to a stronger guilt for being part of the killing and destruction, something his father had hoped neither of his sons would ever be involved in.
"Aamil, I know you don't trust me. How could you? We're taught not to trust anyone. We're threatened not to talk to anyone. But, you, you found a way out."
Aamil came back to the moment. "Nasser, it's just not safe.” Just saying his name, “Nasser,” caused Aamil’s knees to go a little weak. “They watch everything. They know everything. If you followed me, who's to say you weren't followed, too." Aamil thought a moment. "Who's to say you're not one of them, trying to trick me into saying something or doing something that will create the excuse to kill me for breaking the rules?" He knew he'd already said too much and that death was a certain possibility for him now.
"So, you admit to going somewhere I could follow you. See, I knew it was you. I'm like you. I want out. I want a different life. I'm risking the one I have by being here and talking to you. But, I want out." Nasser dug into his pockets. Aamil instinctively backed up. The man produced two huge wads of cash. "Look, I've been saving for three years. A little each week from my allowance. We could go somewhere. We could escape together."
Aamil looked at the wads of money. He thought about his own stash that was close to a thousand American dollars.
"What can I say to convince you that I'm serious, that I'm like you and not really one of them?" The two young men again looked hard and deep into each other's eyes. Aamil felt a strong desire rise in him to kiss this man. He'd seen how the dancers he met were. So many of them hugged and kissed their friends. Some were even romantic together, like those two stars who danced at the center of all the other boys. That dancer from 42nd Street and the other man. He wanted that. He knew he was like that. A disgrace to his kind, but that's how he was. As he thought about Billy and Hank he got an erection and was glad it would be hidden by his loose pants and covered by his oversized shirt. He looked even harder at Nasser, this time to clear his thoughts and return to reality.
Nasser leaned closer to Aamil. "I'm like you," he said softly and then gently kissed Aamil on the mouth.
The soft kiss felt good, it felt at that moment right. Aamil ejaculated into his underwear without ever touching himself or being touched by another. He felt shame roll over him, followed by desire. He raised his arms and encircled them around Nasser. If he was going to be murdered for his actions he wanted his actions to have meaning and importance. He wanted to continue feeling the warmth and love and desire that filled him deeper.
The minutes passed as the two young men continued kissing; their hands roved other each other's body.
"Have you already?" Nasser asked as his right hand groped Aamil's crotch.
"Yes, but I can do it again," said Aamil, returning his lips to Nasser's.
Within a few more moments, the two were naked and huddled tight into Aamil's small bed. Nasser took the lead, kissing Aamil’s lips, moving down to his lightly haired nipples. The trail of Nasser’s kisses followed a path across Aamil’s flat belly, down to his sticky, salty cock, already brutally hard again.
Aamil enjoyed the sensations he was feeling. This was new to him. He’d never been naked in a sexual way with anyone before, man or woman. When Nasser opened his mouth and took Aamil’s cock deep into his throat, Aamil thought he’d quickly come again. No matter how wet his hand had ever been, it was no comparison to Nasser’s mouth and strong tongue. He arched his back, pushing his cock deeper inside Nasser’s willing mouth.
Nasser pulled up and away. Aamil groaned, but then allowed his legs to be pushed up high, exposing his asshole. Nasser tongued him there for a long time. When Nasser shifted again, his cock was up against Aamil’s hole.
“Relax,” Nasser whispered.
Aamil took several deep breaths as Nasser pushed his cock inside Aamil, a little at a time. At first the pain was blinding, but as more and more of Nasser made its way inside, Aamil breathed through the pain. By the time Nasser was fully engulfed inside Aamil, Aamil was pushing himself onto Nasser’s dick. The two men made love. Nasser was gentle with Aamil, offering little more than a slow rocking, barely even stroking.
As they made love, thoughts flitted through Aamil's head that this might be his last moment on Earth. At any instant Nasser might reveal himself as someone sent to test him. At any second, any of the others might burst through the door and kill both boys for their unholy actions. They could be murdered or stoned to death for what was happening between them. But, those thoughts fleeted back to the nether regions of Aamil's mind as his hard dick took over his thought process.
Aamil said something in their native language that Nasser didn’t fully hear, but knew, from the tightening of Aamil’s asshole. Aamil came with great force, his ass becoming a vice around Nasser’s cock. That’s when Nasser went into action. He fucked Aamil harder and harder. He ignored Aamil’s pleading for him to stop, instead, increasing the motion until he, too, exploded, filling Aamil’s ass with come.
Nasser collapsed on top of Aamil, pushing his tongue hard into Aamil’s mouth. They held their position until Nasser’s dick finally slipped out.
Aamil’s joy was indescribable. At least I won’t die a virgin, he thought to himself as he once again wrapped his arms and legs tight around Nasser, hoping that he’d have an opportunity to be in the masculine position over Nasser.
Twenty
"I'm only doing one more," said Jericho to Sara as they sat on the chilly Star Bar patio sipping cocktails.
"The Flash Mobs are such a hit, Jericho, why only one more?" Sara dug her hands into her jacket. She wanted to go back inside where it was warm.
"It's spreading fast. Others all over the country, hell, all over the world are doing them now. I've accomplished what I wanted with this. I just want to do one more. I've got an idea for the dreadful Penn Station lobby. I'm sure by now we can just contact them and they'll play the music for us. Add that to your list," he said, lighting another cigarette.
Sara pulled her hands from her pockets, rubbed them, and keyed in the request to her Blackberry. "Will this be all boys, too?" she asked.
"No, we'll go back to a co-ed set up. I want all the best dancers we've used so far. That redh
eaded model, the Middle East kid who is so very good. See if he has a friend or two. Of course, we'll invite Billy and Hank. They're such a draw and they're good team captains, too." Jericho let Sara's thumbs catch up with her list making. He was almost finished with her. He'd let her escape back into the warmth soon.
"Oh, and that other girl, the one with the long brown hair? She was terrific."
Sara’s thumbs moved like the wind over the device’s little keyboard.
"Excellent. You know who I want," said Jericho to his assistant. "And, I really liked the way that it worked out at the Seaport, having the go-to people to hold coats and bags. That solved the stolen item problem from the early events. Let's get that set up, too." He thought for a moment sending smoke up into the chilly evening sky.
"Don't you have to go back to the theater?" Sara asked, hopeful that this would end. She loved Jericho. Loved working for him. But, sitting outside in the cold so he could smoke was a little much. She could feel her throat closing. Sense the next cold coming on. She wanted to stamp her feet to get the circulation going again, but didn't.
"You're right," said Jericho with a glance at his watch. He liked to check in at the theater, watch a few scenes, give notes to Nancy Ann when needed. Yet, with the change in his relationship with Billy, he felt no rush to get there early. Seeing Billy, standing in the alley with Hank, as they shared an intimate moment, a kiss, turned Jericho's stomach a little, brought his regrets back up to the surface. Jericho slowly took in the smoke from the end of his cigarette, savored it in his lungs before exhaling. Finally, he stood up and Sara followed his lead. They headed into the bar. Jericho left Sara there, with an open tab to take advantage of, not that she ever really did. He kissed her cold cheeks and wondered why Sara hadn't said that she was cold, but didn't make a comment. He headed out the front door without talking to his friend, Thom.
"Working you like a dog?" asked the bartender as he refilled Sara's glass.
Flash Mob Page 17
