23You Never Know
Well well, the boys are sure out tonight. Must be a convention in town or something – you hardly ever see the Fruit-Loop so packed. Lots to choose from, guess I can be picky.
Too old. Too old. Too young. WAY too young, good Lord... that's just sad. Too old. C'mon, just show me a cute almost-adult, is that too much to ask? God, that kid last week... probably about sixteen, I'd guess. Face like an angel... Body like a bulldog though. So many of 'em seem to think that it's all about the abs - either that, or they're like skeletons and you can see ribs through their chests. I never know whether to fuck them or feed them. They're all one extreme or another, seems like. All I want is a nice, regular boy – is that too much to ask?
Who's willing to get his dick sucked and his ass fucked, that is. Maybe it is too much to ask. And by a man old enough to be his father, at that. Ah well. At least I'm not fat, and I still have most of my hair, even if it is all gray. I'm not a complete troll, am I? Well, whatever - I'm not exactly begging here. I'm paying.
Too young again... Too scrawny. Too angry. Facial-hair, sorry, can't get into that. Another one who's probably barely a teen... Poor kids. Man, when I was that age, I wasn't even thinking about sex at all, and here he is out peddling his ass. I bet he's not even gay, either. He just needs the money. Well, that's too bad, but you're not my type, kid. I may not need a Rhodes Scholar, but I like to at least be able to talk to my tricks.
There's a nice one – but sorry, dude. You really think I'm going to stop for you with all your buddies around? Yeah right. Go roll someone else. Oh, that reminds me – I should hide my wallet and get out the fake one. Most of the kids just act tough, but some of 'em really are. Better safe than sorry.
Here we go... yeah... he's nice... not ripped and not too skinny. Okay in the face. Nice hair, though, no doubt dyed black like that, and down over his eyes. An emo-boy, they're called. What's his shirt say? My Chemical Romance? No idea who they are, but the emo-boys sure like 'em. Bet it's a drug thing. They're all on drugs. Maybe it's all they have to look forward to. I shouldn't judge, I guess. Look what I'm out here doing, after all.
You. Yeah, you. C'mon over.
"Lookin' for something, mister?"
"Want to go for a ride?" Hey, the face is nicer than I thought.
"Uh-huh. I don't kiss, or do anything kinky, and I won't even suck you off without a rubber, so forget about barebacking. You still interested?"
He knows his business. Good. Rookies are so much work, they never know what to do. "Hop in."
"Fifty bucks. A hundred if you wanna fuck me."
He thinks a hundred dollars is a lot of money. I'd pay a thousand if I had to. I think most of us would. Well, the ones like me, anyway. Good thing the ones like him don't know that. "Fine. Throw your bag in the back and buckle up."
"Mister Safety-Conscious, huh..."
"I just don't wanna get pulled over because you're not wearing your seat-belt. They're bad about that here – have special patrols that do nothing else. It's ridiculous."
"Whatever. I'm hungry."
Yeah, they always are, even if they aren't. He'll probably just throw it into his backpack, but what the fuck do I care? If he goes all-out, it'd be maybe ten bucks worth of food, and he'll think he's getting something over on me. They like to think that. Maybe that's just part of being a hustler, imagining how stupid your customers are.
"We'll pull through the Wendy's."
"I like What-A-Burger more."
"They're closed."
"Oh."
He must be new in town, the regulars all know what's open and when. No wonder I haven't seen him before.
"What should I call you?"
"Rio is good. And I'll just call you Mister."
"Works for me."
Rio. 'River'. I wonder if he knows that. Man – his face kind of grows on ya, doesn't it? Nice lips, long lashes, skin is pretty good, too. I usually like 'em more girly than that, but yeah, I'll make an exception for him. He's hot.
Geez, dude is old! Well, kinna old, anyway. Hair's all gray, for sure. But at least he's not all fat – I hate the fat ones. Makes me feel sick just letting them feel me up with their sweaty hands. Gross.
Rental car. He must be a dentist, then, for the convention. I wonder if I should have asked for more money... well, he didn't even blink when I ordered those two triple-patties, so I'm doing okay, either way. I need to get him to buy me a pack of cigs too; I still owe Justin a pack from the other night. I bet he'll do it – the old guys are usually real push-overs.
If they're not mean, that is. Seems like they're all either one way or the other. God I hate the mean ones. Fucking scary.
"So, is this a pull-over, or are we going to your room..."
"My room. That okay?"
"Fine with me, but you only get an hour, Mister."
"How much for two?"
"An extra hundred." He's gonna fuck me then. Can't win 'em all.
"Let's make it a hundred and fifty for the whole two hours."
"A hundred and eighty."
"A hundred and fifty. I can let you off right here, or do you wanna go back..."
"Fine, one-fifty. But you're only fucking me once."
"Once is all I got, Rio. I'm not a kid anymore."
"No shit."
Goddammit – I keep forgetting these old guys are only good for one time. Guess that means I won't have to suck him off, anyway, so that's good. Unless he needs me to get it up for him. He'd better have some Viagra, if he's that way, is all I can say. It's hard to believe that some of 'em want you to suck it hard again after they've had it up your ass. Bastards. Fuck that.
"Got any smokes, Mister?"
"Don't smoke. I can get some at the hotel."
"How about crystal? Crack? E?"
"Sorry kid. Not my thing."
"Yeah – your thing is kids, huh..." Can't really blame him for that, I guess. Young is hot, old is not. Just how it is. Someday I'll probably be crusin' for boys just like he is. Yeah, right. Like I'll ever be his age, or a dentist. Or anything else, probably.
Fuck you, Dad, and all your good ol' boy buddies, too. I can't believe I let those people on the 'Net talk me into coming out to him. Idiots.
"I guess kids are my thing now, yeah. I wasn't always this way, though. Time was I was a happy hetero man, wife, kids, the whole thing."
"Yeah? Then what happened?"
"Then shit happened. And now I pick up boys like you on the Fruit-Loop."
"Fruit-Loop, huh? Good name for it."
"You must be new. Where ya from, Rio?"
"Not here."
"Well... geez... you didn't have to get me a whole carton, Mister."
I know that, kid. "Share 'em with your friends." They say cigarettes are like currency with the hustlers. That carton will probably get him more favors than the money he'll make tonight, and he doesn't even realize it. They really are so stupid, aren't they... but then, they're so young too.
I really don't know why I haggle over the price with 'em. Habit? Because I don't want them to think I'm a sucker? Fuck do I care if they think I'm a sucker.
They just have no idea what they're worth, how beautiful they are. Breath-taking. Truly breath-taking. I wonder if I was pretty, back then. And what's funny is: I can't remember any boys in high school that I ever looked at twice. I remember lots of the girls, though. I Guess I just wasn't gay back then, because I find it hard to believe that I could have repressed it that far, and for that long. I think something changed. I changed.
God he's beautiful. How can they not know it? Although... he is a bit... fragrant...
"You're taking a shower first."
"I'm taking a shower after, too."
Heh. A quick wit in this one. I could like this kid. Too bad he's a hustler. "Fine. You drink, Rio? I have scotch and rum."
"Rum and Coke is okay."
"Right. You get cleaned up, I'll get us some ice and a three-dollar Coke from the machine."
"Three bucks for a Coke?"
"That's how they do in hotels. Everything is a scam." I really do hate hotels – they have you imprisoned and they know it. Those "complementary" bottles of water on the counter? Four bucks apiece. It's amazing how we just accept this kind of shit.
I gotta remember to steal the rest of that box of rubbers. And wow – he has the good lube, too. Maybe I can steal that as well - I'm running out of Vaseline, and besides, that stuff just feels so nasty afterwards.
God, I really needed this shower, it's been three days. I wonder if it occurs to these guys that I'm just going to have put my filthy clothes right back on when we're done. I hate that. Oh man... I wish I could go home... but I can't. No home, no school, no real friends... Guys like Justin may help you out once in a while, but when it really comes down to it, they got their own problems, and don't have time for yours.
I can't believe this guy is gonna try to get me drunk. I hope he doesn't get drunk too... they sometimes violent when they get drunk. Like that one guy kept calling me 'faggot'. Dude, you just sucked my dick, and you're calling ME 'faggot'? How stupid can you be?
This guy doesn't seem stupid, though. Or violent. Kinda sad, actually... I wonder what his deal is.
Jesus Christ – how did my hair get so tangled up? Is one of these little bottles conditioner? Ah, good. That'll help.
Yeah, this guy seems okay, for a chicken-fucker. Too bad he's from out of town, maybe he could be a regular. They say that's the way to do it – get a bunch of regulars, guys you know. And we could, like, set up a schedule, and then I wouldn't have to stand there all night waiting to be picked up.
Hey, maybe I could be a boy-toy. I'm not too proud to do that. Fuck, man... I'm not proud at all! A few nights sleeping under over-passes takes care of that.
Aww, get real. He's just another trick. Wham, bam, thank you, man. Here's your money. Get lost. Too bad. He's actually kind of cute – for an older guy. Kind of like, oh, Dr. Rex Morgan or something. Or Johnny Quest's dad. He was hot.
God.
God. He's... he's breath-taking! Holy God.
But then, they're all breath-taking, more or less. Smooth chests, smooth bellies, smooth faces. That's just part of being young. There's something more about this one, though. This 'Rio'. I wonder if he'll tell me his real name...
Why do I care about his real name? He'll probably move on soon enough, chasing conventions. Too bad. If we could set something up... ah, just daydreaming.
"So, are you gonna do something or just stare at me all night?"
"You haven't finished your rum and Coke yet." Good save. As a matter of fact, I could stare at you all night. But I guess I only get two hours. Well, if we go into over-time and he wants more, he can have it. Honestly, I don't understand why boys are so beautiful to me now. I don't even know when it happened. I just know that I didn't always feel like this.
"Well, now I have. Let's do this thing. Suck me then fuck me, right?"
"As agreed, yes."
If only I really could just look, and touch, and feel, and smell, and taste, and... But at your age, you just don't get it. The sex isn't what I really want, see? Not really. It's just that sex is all I can get. If I could actually have what I want... But maybe no one ever gets what they really want. I never did. Not even back when I was a happily-married man and proud father. When I was into women. Sexual desire is so frustrating – making you want things you can't have, and in ways that you can't have them, even if there was such a thing as magic. So maybe no one is ever really makes me feel better to think so, anyway.
I wish you'd let me kiss you on the mouth – but I kind of understand why you don't. I wouldn't either, in your place.
At least I can taste your nipples.
At least I can have you in my mouth.
At least I can be inside you.
And at least I can fantasize that you want me, too, even if I know better.
Oh... Oh geez... Oh Jesus, Mister... I think... I think he's gonna make me cum again... This never happens! I don't, oh god, I don't even like getting butt-fucked! Not by a trick, anyway! Oh god... Faster... Faster... unh... C'mon... C'mon! Fuck me! FUCK ME! FUCK ME... MISTER! I wish I knew his name! Yeah! Yeah! oh God... oh God help me...
Don't say anything, don't say anything, don't say anything.
Don't say anything. Just let me lie here. Just let me feel you panting and smell your sweat and imagine that... that you're mine. Don't say anything. Please don't let him say anything...
"I'm gonna take my shower now."
"Yeah... Okay."
I can't believe I came from getting fucked. Holy shit. And how about how he sucked me off, for that matter? I've never seen anyone get into it like that. Actually, I've never seen anyone stare at me quite like that, either. Usually they just wanna get their rocks off and go back to their wives or girlfriends.
It's kind of creepy, how he stares. A little. Not that I think he's dangerous or anything, not 'creepy' like that, but... I dunno... just, uh...
Different.
I wonder what he's going back to. It sounded like his wife and kids were long gone. I bet he has a girlfriend, though. He's pretty good-looking, for his age, bound to have a girlfriend. Or maybe boyfriend, even. They never have boyfriends, though – hell, most of 'em won't even admit they're gay.
I wish I knew his name.
Well, guess I'd better find my... hey...
"Where's my clothes?"
"They should be back in... oh... another ten minutes. Still inside the two-hour limit."
"Back?"
"They were awfully dirty; I sent them out to be laundered."
"Oh." He did? Holy shit. "Uh... thanks. Uhm..."
"Another rum and Coke, perhaps? And you can smoke if you want to – we'll just open the balcony door. What Hilton doesn't know won't hurt 'em."
"Uh, yeah. Another rum and Coke would be good... So... you're here for the convention, right? Where're ya from, Mister. Mister, uh..."
"Cavett. Brian Cavett. At your service. And truthfully – I'm from here. I just rent the hotel room for... well..."
"For this - I get it." Cavett. Brian Cavett. You need a boy-toy, Brian Cavett? A son? A son with benefits? I could totally do that. Ah shit, man, just stop it. He's a trick; he was looking for a boy to fuck, and he got one, that's all there is to it. "And the car too?"
"Yes. I suppose I'm overly-cautious, but you never know what sort of person you're going to pick up. Some of them are... well, not so nice as you."
"Yeah. Some of the johns aren't, either. Uhm... my real name's Kyle, by the way."
"Nice to meet you Kyle."
"Yeah. Uh-"
"Ah, here's your clothes."
"Is this the right place?"
"Not quite – I'm the fourth light-pole from the corner. My spot, I mean."
"All right. Well, thank you Kyle. That was... very enjoyable."
"Yeah."
"Are you going to keep working tonight? I could take you home, you know. Or... wherever it is you stay."
"Uhm... this is my spot, right here."
"Kyle? Do... do you... I mean... Is there somewhere for you to go?"
"Uh... kind of... but... not really..."
"Well... uhm... Would you... I mean... Would you like to come home with me?"
(the end)