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The Brat Ch 01 - The Confession

Once you start living with someone, like I had with Mr. Grant, it is easy to fall into old habits.  This was especially true when I bought a new video game system and flat screen television and put them in the guest room.  I had little else to spend my money from work on so I decided on an impulse to get something for myself.  It was easy to play a game for hours at a time in the morning and between classes and work.  I kept up my homework as usual for my new classes but when I didn’t have an important responsibility, when Mr. Grant wasn’t home, I played my games.  It was even better when Ethan was on at the same time.  We chatted a little as we played but mostly we talked strategy. 
Ethan didn’t ask for another session with Mr. Grant and I didn’t bring it up.  He told me about guys he met and that none of them seemed to be into spanking.  He said most of them were too superficial.  He said he liked the idea of someone being athletic, even a little self-centered, but when they started getting judgmental then he had a problem.  Our conversations made me think about my own experiences ‘dating’ and how Tucker had been my ‘fuck-buddy’ but I didn’t miss it. 

Being single, trying to find a new guy every night, hoping one of them would mean something all felt so desperate.  I liked the idea of being with someone, having a home, a warm body to cling to in bed, and the feeling of knowing someone would be there for me.

Mr. Grant seemed to take little notice of my new distraction.  He had been a little different since we got back from Las Vegas.  He reprimanded me, gave me a few corrective smacks on the ass, but we hadn’t had an intense session like the ones we had before and we didn’t talk about Ethan.  We did have sex on a regular basis though, usually after work.  It was the perfect release when we got home and it helped us both get to sleep easier.

It was an ordinary Monday.  We ate breakfast and made small talk.  We showered together, fooled around a little under the water and I watched him get ready for the day.  I walked him to the door, even gave him a peck on the cheek before I went to the couch where I thought about turning on the television before I thought to make sure there were no chores to do.  I was reading over the list when there was a knock at the door.  I was still in my underwear but somehow, for some reason, I didn’t think anything about it as I went to answer the door. 

Somehow I had expected Mr. Grant to be there, maybe he had forgotten his keys.  It wasn’t until I got to the door that I noticed my undressed state so I opened it partially to cover myself in some way.  It could have been a meter reader, the mail man, or even a church group and I wouldn’t have cared.  I was horrified to see it was my mother.  She smiled at me and looked around a little, glanced over my shoulder before she looked me in the eye and cleared her throat.  She smelled of an obnoxious floral perfume that she always wore and was dressed for work. 

Right then my white briefs felt even more ridiculous even though I used to wear boxers around the house regularly when I lived there.  I thought about closing the door on her, just panic and run away, but there was no where to run to and I knew she would knock again.  She had caught me.  I was in a precarious situation and she had definite intent but I thought we might be able to talk it out.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning,” she replied.

I thought for a moment she would speak but instead she let the uncomfortable silence hang in the air.  I was used to her doing this so I didn’t panic.  I just looked her in the eye as I feigned sleepiness.  But she didn’t speak, didn’t even budge.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Your birthday is coming up and since you’ve been spending so much time over here I thought I would stop by and see how you’re going to celebrate.”

“For my birthday, I don’t know.  I don’t think we had any specific plans.  I haven’t really mentioned it.  I’m not even sure if he knows it’s coming up.  Why?”

“Well, we were planning on getting you a gift and maybe having some kind of part but we weren’t sure if you might want to have it over here, or well, at home.  We’d like it if you came over to visit us, maybe we can get a cake.  I’m not saying you have to spend all day with us but we hardly see you anymore.”

I sighed.  It was another one of her guilt trips partially based in reality.  I should have felt bad about not spending time with them but I was also moving on with my life.  They showed so little interest any other time, any other day. 

“I’ll have to think about it but sure, I can come over.”

“I was hoping to get something a little more certain than that.  Can I come inside?”

The door between us, my state of undress, all felt like minor things.  She had come over for something else, something important, and yet I couldn’t help but feel a little angry.  She was ruining my good time.  I opened the door and invited her inside as I walked away back to the bedroom where I planned to get some pants.  She followed after me.  I didn’t expect her to keep after me like that.  I didn’t bother to close the door before I picked up a pair of jeans from the bed and began to pull them up my legs. 

“What’s that mark on your thigh?” she asked.

I zipped up my jeans and picked up a shirt, careful to determine the front from the back before I pulled it over my head, then down over my chest, adjusted it about my waist so it felt even.  I didn’t want to tell her anything and yet I knew she wouldn’t leave me alone.  I knew she would keep after me.  She was like a dog with a bone.

“It’s nothing mom,” I said.

It wasn’t humiliation but anger that I felt.  She had come over here, barged into the house, and now she was interfering with my life when before it meant so little to her.  Who was she to criticize when she barely said anything before?  I didn’t want to tell her about the spanking.  It felt bad enough that she knew I was gay.  How do you come out as kinky?

“That looked like bruising.  How did you get that?  Does he hit you?  Is that what he does?  Tell me and I’ll call the police.”

“He doesn’t hit me mom.  He spanks me.”

“What do you mean he spanks you?”

“It’s part of the life we live.  It’s part of our relationship.”

“What is that supposed to mean?  You mean it’s sexual.”

I sighed.  Here I was in my boyfriend’s house being interrogated about my sex life.  My face warmed and I clenched my hands together just to keep from grabbing at something, breaking something.  I wanted her out.  I wanted to scare her.  I wanted her to run.  It felt impossibly difficult just to stand there with her staring at me.

“Yes mom, I like to be spanked,” I said.  “Then we have sex.”

That’s when she let out a groan of disgust and walked away.  I didn’t have to break anything after all just tell her.  I looked to where she stood and listened as she walked out of the house.  It felt like a victory.  It felt like a loss.  She would tell my father.  The stereotypical response would be that he’d attack Mr. Grant, possibly have him arrested, but not my father, my father would invite me, us, to a therapy session, maybe at his office, probably over a cup of coffee.  He’d be casual about it, not try to imply that anything was wrong nor that he had any suspicions.  He’d treat, get me to talk, work his way into my comfort until he’d ask me and then he’d study me closely, look for some doubt, something to question.  He had done it before when my grandfather died.  We went to my favorite burger place, then he said it as I was eating.

My mother hadn’t been home when I got back from school.  I suspected, just because all of my friends parents were divorced that he was going to tell me they were getting a divorce.  I thought he’d ask me who I wanted to live with.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

I had a few fries in my hand and was ready to dip them in ketchup.  I put them to my mouth as if carrying through with what I was going to do would make it all seem normal.  I looked at him.

“You’re grandfather died.  He had a heart attack while playing golf.  He was on the twelfth hole.”

I started to cry.  The ketchup tasted sour and acidic.  It wasn’t just my grandfather’s death but the feeling of having been caught in a trap.  It was the worst meal of my life.  I never felt the same about that burger place. 

That was how my father did things.  I knew that I would be walking through some dangerous territory.  They wouldn’t understand.  If I had to walk through it at all?  Part of me thought about just ignoring the whole thing, cutting them off if necessary, but I couldn’t imagine a life without them.  I couldn’t imagine that how I chose to live my life would be so terrible.  It all felt so frustrating and I knew it would take time to work out just what it meant so I decided to get on with my life. 
I finished getting ready with a spray of cologne and some deodorant under my arm pits and went about my day as usual.  I checked the kitchen to make sure everything was clean and put away, checked the bathroom, and the living room, finally I collected my bag, made sure my books I needed for the day were there as well as my laptop and set out for campus. 

It was an easy, familiar bus trip.  I started thinking about my morning and I had to laugh a little about it to myself.  The thought of my mother seeing me getting dressed and seeing the marks on my thighs was kind of amusing in a dark, sarcastic kind of way.  Like when something embarrassing happens on television, I thought.  Of course there is a big difference between life and television but the thought comforted me.  And by the time I got there I reasoned that I didn’t have it so bad because I lived with Mr. Grant now.  I had a job and money.  They might stop paying my tuition but I could figure something out, probably.  Besides having to drop out wouldn’t be so bad, I told myself.  I could finally get my dream job of being a go-go dancer and/or porn star. 

I got off the bus feeling better about the whole thing and it was far in the back of my mind by the time I got to the library.  Once there I found a quiet spot, took out my books, and began to study.  I didn’t seriously think about it again until I got to work that evening. 

Being a bus boy is a quiet job.  With the exception of a few words to coworkers and a few words to patrons there isn’t much that needs to be said if you’re paying attention.  In some ways the less said the better.  Of course it isn’t a job where I found I could really think too much either and I found myself making a few mistakes here and there, not really paying attention when people spoke to me.  By the end of the night I snapped at Rose when she started to confront me about not cleaning up a table as quickly as I could have.  She gave me this look and I considered whether I should start yelling or walk away.  I decided to walk away. 

By that time things had slowed down and I wasn’t surprised when Mr. Grant came out to the alleyway where I leaned against the brick wall wishing I had a cigarette.  He moved to me quietly.  I could tell he was serious but he was also being gentle.  I admired that quality about him. 

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I replied.

It was my defense response.  It usually worked with my parents.  Sometimes it meant I didn’t want to talk at the moment but would later, but as I got older it just meant I wanted them to go away.  He shifted on his feet, hands in his pockets, I knew he raised an eyebrow or two of curiosity at me.

“You’ve been on edge all night,” he said.

“You noticed?”

“Of course I did, so did everybody else.  It’s been little things but still, the way you snapped at Rose in there was uncalled for and I want to know what’s going on.  Is it something to do with school?”

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “It’s nothing.”

“Hey, don’t lie to me.  You can trust me.”

Somehow saying it to him felt even more humiliating than the actual incident.  His opinion mattered to me and I wasn’t sure what he would say about how I had acted or what I thought about it.  I also worried he might be embarrassed that she knew my secret, our secret, now and that he might be afraid.  He might worry she would turn him into the police for abuse or confront him, maybe even kill him.  No, not kill him, not my mother, but still it wasn’t good.  I didn’t want to cause him pain.  And yet as I stood there in that darkened alley that felt so much like a confessional I felt like just saying it.  He was a strong man and I thought he might know just the right thing to do, just the right thing to say.

“My mother came over today and she wanted to know what I was doing for my birthday.  We started to talk and were being civil, but then she came in the house and I was getting dressed and she saw my bruises.”

“What happened?”

“She started asking me about it and asked if you hit me.  I told her you spanked me and it became this whole big thing.  She ran out of the house.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean I wish it was a practical joke but it’s not.”

“Did she do anything else?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I answered.

“Well, I’m sorry you had to deal with that.  Is there anything I can do?”

“Got a cigarette?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said.  “There isn’t much she can do.”

“I know, it’s just, I don’t know.  Everything was going so good.”

“It still is.”  He leaned to me, found my lips in the dark and kissed me briefly before he pulled away.  “But we need to get back in there.  We’ll talk about it after work.  Don’t worry about it.  You’re an adult and it’s your life.”

He started to move and I stopped him with one hand against his shoulder.  He paused and turned to me.  I couldn’t make out the details of his face.  I looked over his shoulder to the door that had remained closed, hoped no one was in the alley who could hear, who would care.

“This thing with my mother.  I know I didn’t do the right thing.  I know I was rude and everything but it wasn’t my fault,” I said.

“I know,” he replied before he started to step away.

“I don’t want you to spank me,” I said.

That caused him to stop and turn back to me.  He got close and for a moment I thought he was going to hug me and kiss me.  I could smell his breath and his cologne.

“I’m not going to spank you.  Not for this,” he said, “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Really?”

“Of course, I just wanted, I just want, to challenge you.  It’s not about control.  I don’t want to control you.  I want to help you and given the situation I know it was very difficult, but what you said to Rose is a different matter.  You need to control yourself.” 

“I’ll apologize,” I said.

He closed the distance between us and gave me a kiss on the lips. I pulled him into a deeper embrace, pushed my tongue into his mouth for a moment before he pulled away and let out a laugh.

“Let’s get inside before they think I’m sexually harassing you or that we left for the night.  I don’t want them misbehaving.”

He stepped aside and ushered me to the door where he playfully slapped me on the ass before I opened it.  I laughed it off and held the door for him.  The kitchen had a familiar warmth and I knew I was safe there.

You can find 5 other chapters on my erotica blog:
 Ch 2 Pt 1, Ch 2 Pt 2, Ch 3, Ch 5, Ch 7, Ch 13

Per Pound of Flesh: Chapter 13 - Getting Fired Is Never Easy (Excerpt)

    Two weeks had gone by without John hearing from his mother and he told Brandi  that he was feeling nervous about the whole thing as she readied herself for the day in the room that had been his mother’s.  Brandi had thrown lots of stuff out, packed lots of stuff away or moved it into his bedroom, flipped the mattress and changed the sheets but it was all too familiar for him.  It was still his mother’s bed. 
   
He looked in the mirror as he flipped a cigarette end over end against the wood surface where his mother had once done the exact same thing with her own cigarette.
   
“So what are you worried about?  Are you worried he’s some kind of killer or something?”  She stepped behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders just over the straps of his undershirt.  She gripped at them as he looked at himself in the mirror with his head reflected back at him between her breasts covered in a black bra. 
   
“Your mother is a smart woman,” she said.
   
“I know.  But I called her three different times now and I guess before I didn’t really worry about it because she was just working and everything but with the money she gave us--”
   
“--hey don’t worry about it.  In part that money was ours and she just gave it back.  You can’t worry about that stuff.  She’s an adult.”
   
“I just worry about her,” he said.  “She gets so excited about things.”
   
He thought back to Clark, the man who was supposed to be their knight in shining armor, a man who was a liar and a cheat. 
   
“People have to live their own lives.  If it’s as good as she said then we all have it made.  I mean I really don’t want to inherit this dump but it’s something.  When we get our own house we can rent this one.”
   
He flipped open the lighter and sparked the wheel to create a flame.  He held it for a long moment to see the reflection in the mirror until Brandi took hold of his wrist and guided the him up to her mouth where she had placed her own cigarette.
   
“The baby,” he said.
   
“Is fine,” she said.  “It’s my only one.”
   
She used the fire and inhaled deeply before he lit his own cigarette.  He reached for her backside and she let him take it.  He gripped at her slightly enjoying the feel of flesh.  She reached back to him and grabbed the back of his head.
   
“You want to have sex tonight?” he asked.
   
“Let’s see how it goes,” she answered.
   
She stepped out of his grasp and walked from the room.  He had become excited by touching her and he wanted something more but she was teasing him.
   
He looked to the clock and saw it was quarter after eight.  He hated mornings when there was little to do.  He thought about playing video games or else watching television, maybe look for a job.  He hated the idea of looking for another job, another boss, another day trying to get by while he sunk deeper in debt.
   
He got up from the chair and walked from the room, through the trailer and exited through the front door where he found a familiar sight of the trailer park he had known for a little more than four years when Clark had made the down payment on it for him and his mother.  At least then, he thought, she was smart enough to put it in her name so that when his wife found out it couldn’t be taken back. 
   
That was the part that was news to them, his wife, the man had been married and had two children but lied to them both.  He thought of his mother out there with a stranger and he worried about her safety.  He had never met the man so he didn’t know what he looked like but he could imagine the empty hotel rooms and the long roads between them.  He flicked the butt of his cigarette out into the lawn then lit another one.
   
She had received many gifts over the years from men but they had trailed off in her later years when her age, no her spirit, had finally begun to drain.  All of his life she had been fierce, fueled by nicotine and liquor, prescription pills.  When she wanted to rearrange the furniture in the middle of the night he had learned to go along with it.  When she was having a good day it was great.  She had a will and vitality that he knew took a blow from Clark but he didn’t expect it had been terminal.  No, she was the type to get a second wind.
   
His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket.  It was Dennis.  For a moment he was suspicious of the call, troubled somehow by why he would call so early.  Maybe Dennis had to call off and they could switch like before, he thought.  He answered it.
   
“What’s going on man?” John asked.
   
Dennis sounded about ready to cry.  John could hear the commotion of traffic, the wind.  He was walking.
   
“Are you there?”
   
“Yeah,” Dennis said.
   
“Can you talk?”
   
“Yeah.”
   
John looked to make sure no one was around feeling it was confidential.
   
“I just got fired,” Dennis said.
   
“What?  Why?”
   
“I don’t know.  I mean, I can’t talk about it.”
   
“What’s going on?” John asked.
   
“I have to get out of here,” he said.  “I took the bus to work today and now I’m stuck so I just started walking.  Can you pick me up?”
   
John knew he had hours before his shift at the grocery store and said that he could meet Dennis then asked for him to pick a spot and stay there.  Dennis told him the name of a chain breakfast food restaurant.
   
“I’ll be right there,” John said.  He hung up then headed back to the bedroom and began to search for his shoes, his socks, and a belt.  He picked them up and began to walk with them in his hands.  When he passed Brandi she asked him where he was going.
   
“Out,” he said.
   
“What about Josie?  I thought we could go to the mall.”
   
He stopped at the door and looked back to her.
   
“I can’t,” he said, “a friend needs me.  Go with Rachel if you want.”
   
“Rachel is working today.  You know that.  I thought we could spend some time together.”
   
John hated the mall.  He had a friend in need.  He wanted to make the conversation short.  He wanted to sink any thoughts about it.
   
“You’re always just looking at stuff and walking around.  There’s nothing there we need.”
   
“We can still look,” she said.
   
“Brandi we need to hold on to that money and pay some bills,” he said.  He slid on his socks and shoes then pulled open the door and exited.
   
Twenty minutes later he passed the coffee shop then thirty seconds after that he pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall and made it to the place where Dennis said he would be.  He made his way inside and to the table where Dennis sat staring at a cup of coffee.  He took a seat opposite of him.
   
“What’s going on?  I was speeding all of the way over here.”
   
“Did you get a ticket?”
   
“No, luckily no cops were out.  So what’s going on?”
   
“I got fired.”
   
“You got fired or you thought you got fired so you quit.”
   
“I got fired.  That,” Dennis lowered his voice, “fucking old queen fired me.  And it was all Mitsy’s fault.  I didn’t even make it to the lunch rush.”
   
“What happened?”
   
“He found out,” Dennis looked to John who turned his head quizzically.  “You know, about me.”
   
“Oh,” John said.  “How?”
   
“Mitsy, she saw me with this guy.”
   
“When?”
   
“This morning,” Dennis said, “I didn’t really take the bus.  I didn’t mean to lie to you.  It’s just that--” he began to cry slow long tears that ran down his cheeks.  John reached for napkins in the holder and handed them over. 
   
“He dropped me off this morning and she saw him kissing me in the parking lot.  The bitch couldn’t even wait until after lunch.  She told him almost right away.  I just knew something was up when she was cleaning up with me this morning.  It was just awkward the whole time and she kept staring at me. 
   
“Then work started and things seemed okay.  I was in the middle of getting someone coffee when she asked to meet with him and then right afterwards he calls me in to his office.  I just knew something was wrong. 
   
“So he asks me right away if I’m gay.  And I’m thinking you know like ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ but goes, you know, like, it’s already been told to him that I was and that he didn’t think it reflects well on the business because it’s a Christian business and he’s a Christian businessman.  So he says I had to leave.  Just like that.  He’s such a hypocrite.”
   
“So he just fired you?”
   
“Yeah,” Dennis said.
   
“Isn’t that discrimination?”
   
Dennis shook his head and blew his nose then gripped the napkin tight in his hand as he said, “not in this state.  There’s no protection for homosexuals in anything.  I mean I never expected to be married here but fired.  He’s a fucking miserable sack of shit.”
   
John looked around to the other tables which were mostly empty as the place was between breakfast and lunch.  No one was looking to them, not even a waitress or waiter was in sight.
   
“I don’t even know why I’m crying.  I hated the job.  I mean it sucked.  Michael was such a douche bag.  I bet he dreams about sucking cock.”
   
John smirked at the outburst then looked around again before focusing back on Dennis who dabbed at his cheeks.
   
“What am I going to do for a job?” he asked.  “I needed that money.”
   
“Hey, it’ll be fine.  I mean it’s not like you have to pay rent right?”
   
Dennis let out a deep sigh.  “My parents,” he said, “you don’t think he called them?  I mean I had to put their information on my application in case of emergencies.  If my parents found out.  I mean it was already bad enough when my mom figured out I hadn’t been in my room all night.  By the way I told them I was with you.”
   
“Just take it one step at a time,” John said.
   
“I’m in so much shit if they find out,” he said.  “All of my life I’ve had to hide who I was and now this and I can’t even keep a fucking job.”
   
Dennis looked John in the eye.  He had a look of fear John hadn’t seen before in his life.  He was exposed and vulnerable.  Some part of John wanted to cry with him but he couldn’t.  He felt like doing the opposite, to show some resilience instead.
   
“I haven’t seen a waiter since I sat down,” John said.  “What kind of service do they have here?  You might be able to work here,” John said.
   
“I hate these places,” Dennis said before he laughed then leaned close and asked with a sarcastic tone, “Do you think they are hiring?”

******

   
They were stopped in front of Dennis’s house like they had been when John had asked him if he was still gay after Dennis had come out to him on John’s birthday.  It was all there in John’s mind as he stared at Dennis in the seat next to him.
   
“Well, I wish I could take you out for a drink but my wife really wants to go to the mall and I have work later tonight.”
   
“It’s okay,” Dennis said.
   
“No really, I’m sorry,” John said.
   
“I know,” Dennis said.  “You’ve been really nice to me.”
   
“But if you need me then give me a call.”
   
Dennis opened the car door and began to stand.
   
“No really, call me,” John said.  “If your parents, you know, if they know and you can’t deal with it.”
   
Dennis turned and looked back to him.
   
“I wish I could kiss you,” he said.
   
“I know,” John replied. 
   
“Well, it’s just a dumb fucking job I didn’t like anyway.”
   
“Maybe it’s for the better.”
   
“Maybe,” Dennis said.  He moved the door slightly with his hand to close it then stopped.  It was a moment.  It was an ending.  He pulled it open to steady himself the readied to close the car door.
   
“Hey, take care,” John added.
   
“Thanks I’ll see you later.”
   
Dennis closed the door and turned away from the car as John watched him walk back to his home.  It was a mundane sight that he had seen before but it meant so much more to him in that moment.  He shifted to drive and pulled away from the curb.

Per Pound of Flesh: Chapter 05 - Handsome Guy (Excerpt)

The following day was one of the ones that John hated because he only had to go in to the grocery store for three hours in the evening which meant he had nearly twelve hours to kill from the moment he woke up in the recliner.  He snuck back to their room and was in the middle of retrieving his pants, keys, and wallet when his phone buzzed on the floor waking Brandi.
   
“What is it?” she asked.
   
“Nothing, just go back to bed.”
   
“I’m hungry.  And I can’t get out of bed right now.” 
   
He looked at his phone.  It was Dennis. 
   
“Would you make some toast?”
   
“Uh, yeah sure,” he said.  “What kinds of jellies do you want?”
   
She stretched and yawned then told him to surprise her.
   
“The last time I did that you didn’t like it.”
   
“I have to make all the decisions.  Just use some strawberry and some grape, no wait use the apple butter your aunt made.”
   
“See,” he said.
   
“I don’t want to hear it.  I just woke up.”
   
“Sorry, I’ll get the toast.”  He headed out to the kitchen where he opened his phone and called Dennis as he set about making toast.  They had decided to exchange numbers after their shift together.  Dennis was a likable guy, middle-class, but likable.  On the fifth ring Dennis answered.
   
“Oh hey,” John said.
   
“Hey, I figured since we both have some time off I thought you might want to do something else besides party and shoot guns.  Not that there is anything wrong with that.  Just thought, you know, after yesterday.”
   
“Yeah, that sounds fine.  What did you have in mind?”
   
“I didn’t know exactly,” Dennis said.  “Do you want to come over and just see what happens?  I’m actually planning on working out this morning.  Maybe go for a run.”
   
“I haven’t exercised since I was on the junior high wrestling team and running track.” 
   
“We could do something else,” Dennis said.
   
“No, that sounds like fun.  Let me make some breakfast for my wife and make sure she is situated before I leave.  It could be an hour or so.  Is that cool?”
   
“See you then,” Dennis said.
   
John hung up the phone then waited for the toast against the counter with his hands on either side, a butter knife in his right hand.  He felt a familiar pain so he went to the bathroom cupboard where he took out a pill for his headache and another for caffeine and swallowed them dry as he heard the toaster pop up.  As he went back to the kitchen and lit a cigarette before he smeared jelly on the toast.  He was almost satisfied when he heard her call for an additional two pieces so he set about making them.  Once he had four pieces of toast covered in two different types of spread he headed back to the room where he offered her the plate.
   
“Hey listen, someone called and they want me to go out for a little bit this morning.  Someone from work.”
   
“A woman?”
   
“No, not a woman, his name is Dennis.  He works at Subway with me.”
   
“Well, I don’t know.  I am not feeling very good today.”
   
John sighed.
   
“You always want to be out but what do I get?”
   
“You get to spend all of our money from the comfort of bed.”
   
“It’s not a life of luxury.  It’s your bedroom.  There are holes in the wall.”
   
“They’re not very big,” he said.
   
“My feet are sore, massage them.”
   
John moved to the foot of the bed where he took her left foot in hand and began to massage it with his thumbs.
   
“You get a foot massage whenever you want,” he said.
   
“No, just when you’re around.”
   
“I’m working,” he said.
   
“And now your boss wants to cut your hours.  You need to quit that job and get a new one.”
   
“I can’t just quit.  We finally have money in the savings account,” he said.   
   
She picked up a piece of toast and touched it to her lips then pulled it away and set it on the plate and let out a moan of disgust. 
   
“I haven’t even had breakfast yet and I need to go pee again.  Help me up.”  John took the plate and set it aside before taking her arm and helping her from the bed.  He walked with her to the bathroom where he helped her maneuver to the toilet.  As soon as she sat there was a stream of urine.  John looked away.
   
“Does this bother you?” she asked.
   
“No, not really, I mean you’re my wife.”
   
“Wives pee,” she said.
   
“I know they do.”
   
“Alright help me back up,” she said and he took her arm.  She wiped herself quickly then walked with him back to the bed.  “I’m not going to be in a good mood most of the day and as long as your mother is around to help me then you can go.  But don’t be out all day and have your phone with you.  Be back by 12:30 at the latest.”
   
John looked at the clock.  His life measured out in hours.  But he could accept the deal so he nodded then followed all of her orders to get her comfortable including dragging a dresser to the foot of the bed and setting up the old black and white television on it.  Finally on her word he was free to go. 
   
He arrived twenty-minutes later at Dennis’s house.  It wasn’t small.  It was big and on the proper side of town.  He parked in the empty driveway then made his way to the front door by way of a cement footpath.  He rang the doorbell and Dennis answered and invited him inside.  He was shirtless and wore a pair of workout pants with white stripes down the sides.  John noticed a slight sheen of sweat and light, barely visible body hair.  He was lean but defined.  He could smell Dennis’s sweat but it wasn’t an unpleasant odor.  It was musky.
   
“I was just working out,” Dennis said holding up his hands to show his gloves.  “You look like you are ready to work out.  Come down and spot me.”  He hopped down the steps into the basement easily.  John followed after him into what he was surprised to find was a finished basement.  “I just started working out last year and I’m not able to get very big but it really helps to be strong you know.  I mean you look in shape.”
   
“I used to be on the wrestling team,” John said.  “I do pushups or jog when I feel flabby but that doesn’t happen much anymore.”
   
“How much do you bench?” Dennis asked laying out on the flat bench.  “I can’t do much myself.”
   
John assumed the position behind the rack to spot.  He had never taken lifting seriously, at least not the way other guys did.  He didn’t keep track of weight but he didn’t want to sound like a loser so he decided to change the subject.
   
“You do this alone?”
   
“Just light weights, nothing I can’t handle.”
   
“Huh,” John said placing his hands in his pockets. 
   
“Don’t put your hands in your pockets,” Dennis said between reps.  “You need to be able to catch it.  That’s the point of spotting.”
   
“Yeah of course,” John said.  He took his hands from his pockets.
   
“It’s more difficult for skinny guys like us,” Dennis said.
   
“I never really thought about it,” John said.  “I guess I got busy.”
   
Dennis set the weight on the rack. 
   
“Do you want to give it a try?”
   
“No, I’m good,” John said.
   
Dennis sat up and turned back to John.
   
“Did you really want to do this?”
   
“Not really,” John said.
   
“Let’s get some breakfast then,” Dennis said.
   
Dennis turned away from the bench and walked back to the stairs.  John followed.  In the kitchen everything was clean and put away.  That was true for every part of the house John could see.  He suspected they had a maid who came in once or twice a week to help clean.
   
“This is nice,” John said.
   
“Yeah, my mom is kind of OCD about this stuff.  I can make you a really good omelette.”
   
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” John said.
   
“Take a seat there,” Dennis said pointing to some stools under the kitchen island.
   
“You work out a lot then?”
   
“Yeah, I have to stay fit.  I was a chubby kid.”
   
“Yeah, I guess I don’t really think about it.”
   
“It’s different for you,” Dennis said.  “You’re a handsome guy.  I mean you not only have a girlfriend but you have a wife.”
   
John laughed.
   
“What?”
   
“It’s no great reward.  Trust me.”

Per Pound of Flesh Ch 01 - The Motel

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novel with estimated > 60K words

Faced with supporting a wife and baby daughter a young man decides to go into gay porn.

01- The Motel

The swimming pool of a low-end motel just outside Baltimore, MD.  It was close to midnight and the air had cooled significantly, John worked his arms and legs to stay afloat in the deep end.  He was fine to just float, to kick his legs and move his arms in a way that he had once learned from a pamphlet left somewhere by the YMCA.

Swimming lessons were supposed to be last year’s birthday gift but his mother couldn’t get him there on the weekends because she had to work ‘extra-hours’ and now he was fourteen and going to high school next year.  He dreaded the thought of swimming in gym class if he ever had to do it.

His chin just above the surface he stared across the water to the boy he had just met that day, Kevin, who swam away with an easy stroke to the side of the pool.  Kevin was a year younger but he could swim like a fish and John suspected he was smarter too.

“Come here,” Kevin said.

John winced at the invitation because no matter how he tried he knew he would look foolish trying to swim there.  He sighed then began to cross to the side of the pool in his best doggy-paddle.  When he reached the side he grabbed onto it like a life preserver and felt relief when he was able to anchor his body to the stone.

“Are you tired yet?” Kevin asked.

“No, you?”

“No,” Kevin laughed.

“So what else do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.”

They both looked to John’s mother, Kelly, who lay on a deck chair keeping a supervisory watch over them from behind a pair of sunglasses she had been wearing since before the sun went down.

“What else is there to do mom?” John asked.

“Sleep,” she said.  “You guys have been busy playing for the last six hours or so.  Why don’t you guys go to bed?”

“I’m not tired,” John said.

“Me either,” Kevin said.  “I wish you could come back to my room I have an Xbox.”

“Do you have any good games?”

“Lots,” Kevin said.

John bit at his lip as he thought about asking to go to Kevin’s room to play video games because he suspected she wouldn’t let him but they were on vacation so it was worth asking.

“Hey mom can we go to Kevin’s room and play video games?”

“Well, I don’t know.  I’m sure they are going to kick us out any moment but I’m not sure about video games.  Your mom must be worried about you though.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Kevin said.

“John is going to be headed to bed soon.  I’m sure your mom doesn’t want you up all night.  Why don’t you go make sure she doesn’t think you’re lost?”

Kevin looked to John who shrugged his shoulders.

“Can he stay out a little longer?”

She reached for her martini glass and took a sip then held it out in front of her face, swirled the remaining liquid.  She raised the glass in an imagined toast then brought it back to her lips and drank the rest of it.

“No, I think it would be best if he headed back to his room now,” she said.

They looked at each other as they were trumped by her authority.

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“Well, okay, but we should go swimming tomorrow morning before we have to leave,” Kevin said.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Kevin turned and pulled himself from the water.  He walked to the chair where he picked up his towel and began to dry himself.  He looked to John and said goodnight before he wrapped the towel around his shoulders and walked from the pool area, making sure to close the gate behind him.

“Why don’t you get out of the water?  You have to be a prune by now.  Everyone else has gone inside.”  She placed the glass back on the table then reclined back into the most comfortable position.

“Okay,” he replied before he gripped the side of the pool firmly then pulled himself from the water.  He adjusted his trunks and a shiver ran out from his spine.  He looked at his finger tips but he couldn’t make out any detail in the darkness.

The area was dimly lit by the glow of a few lights placed inconveniently around the deck.  The lights were low and weak, the minimum needed for night safety or less.

“It’s cold out here,” he said before crossing his arms and moving to the end of his mother’s chair.  He picked up a towel and began to dry himself.

His mother looked up at him through her sunglasses.  She could only make out his form but she knew what was there.  He had a strong chin, broad shoulders, and naturally athletic build and he was going to be short.  He had put on a little weight over winter but she knew it would be gone in the spring when he got back into sports.  He was going to be a heartbreaker, she thought, just like his father.  He was smart, athletic, and not too cocky.  He was honest and could be very sincere but sometimes, rarely, he had a fit of anger.

“This is the life,” she said.

“It’s nice.”  He wrapped the towel around his waist and picked up the second one which he wrapped around his shoulders before he stepped to the stand beside his mother and picked up her silver, cigarette case.  He took out a cigarette and put it between his lips.

“You’re lucky I’m drunk,” she said.

“Good to know,” John said.  He picked up the matching lighter and lit the cigarette quickly before returning them both within her reach.

He had inhaled cigarette smoke a few times but was wary of lung cancer so he didn’t do it all of the time.  He took a seat in the chair on the other side of the stand.

“Clark is a nice guy,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said.  Clark was the third boyfriend he knew about since his father had left them when he was five years old.  He liked Clark.

“It was nice of him to take us on vacation for a few days.  I don’t get to take you all the places I’d like to.”

It was a thought of regret, regret for something John knew his mother had no control over.  It was a pointless thought to him.  It wasn’t meaningless because it meant she felt bad, no it was just sad.  He didn’t like sad thoughts about things you couldn’t control.

“I can’t believe everyone else had to go inside.  What time is it?”

“I think it’s after eleven.  I’m surprised that one boy stayed out with you as long as he did.”

John nodded.  Most other parents had strict bed times for their children, strict curfews and rules.  If his mother was having a good time then he knew he could have stayed all night at the pool.  He kind of wanted to.  It was nice to swim in the pool after dark because the sun wasn’t out and there was no glare.

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In the darkness the world shrank, didn’t seem so large and so impossible.  He closed his eyelids, checked with his thumb to make sure the cigarette was secure in his hand, and let himself relax.  He wasn’t like that long before he heard the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot, shutting off, and the door opening.

If it were Clark, he thought, it would be easy to see them from where he would have to park in front of the motel room door.  He heard the sound of dress shoes on gravel and knew the man was headed their way.

“How are you guys doing?” Clark asked from the other side of the gate.  John and his mother looked to the familiar voice and smiled.

Clark was just over six foot tall with a dark Italian complexion.  He wore a white shirt and canary yellow tie, dark slacks and black dress shoes.  He opened the gate and walked to them easily with a calm, determined gate.  He was a salesman.  She always said her boyfriends were.

“I’m sorry I had to be out all day and we couldn’t do anything.  I promise I’ll make it up to you.”  He stopped at Kelly’s side, leaned in to give her a welcome kiss and took the cigarette from her hand.  He stood and took a puff before handing it back and giving her another second kiss briefly on the lips.

“Have you guys been swimming?”

“John’s been in all day,” she said.

“Probably a prune then,” Clark said.

John winced at the remark because it was what his mother had said.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Then you probably don’t want to go back in,” Clark replied as he loosened his tie.  He pulled it off and dropped it on the chair, unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.  “Maybe we should throw your mother in.”  He took back the cigarette.

“Oh no you don’t, I’ve just had my nails done today.”

“Okay,” Clark said kicking off his shoes.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What’s it look like,” Clark replied as he unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt.  “I’m going to go for a swim.”

“Now?  You don’t have any trunks.”

He pulled off his dress shirt then maneuvered his undershirt around the cigarette and dropped them in her lap, stuck the cigarette between his lips and unfastened his belt.

“Clark,” Kelly said.

He turned away, from where John sat and had been watching them, towards the pool and dropped his pants.  “Nothing no one doesn’t see at home.”  He handed back the cigarette and pulled off his socks before he walked to the pool’s edge.  There John could make out the man’s form in silhouette.  He could see the man’s shoulders, the shape of his back, even his buttocks and maybe, there in the darkness was the man’s penis still covered by thin, white briefs.   Should he be seeing the man’s penis, he asked himself.  Was he supposed to look away?  What was he supposed to do?

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The man had made no action to cover himself.  And it was true, Clark had often walked around the house in his underwear or a towel.

Clark jumped into the water in a cannonball type dive.  He popped up and let out a loud yell of relief then a sound of irritated pain before he complained about it not being heated.

“I guess I got used to it,” John said.

Clark swam to the edge and placed his hands there.

“Why don’t you join me?”

John looked to his mother who motioned for him to get into the pool.  He stood and stretched for a moment before he dropped the towels on the chair, took a few steps, and jumped.  Clark laughed at the sight before he quickly swam to the young man.

When John surfaced he was surprised to feel Clark’s hands around his sides to hook under his arm pits and he knew what was coming so he let out a playful yell then closed his mouth before he hit the water as Clark had dunked him sideways into it.  He pulled the boy up and did it to him again on the opposite side.  John let out wild laughter as he popped back up from the water.

For a moment he could feel Clark’s chest against his back, so much larger than his own body, hairy too.   Clark lifted him from the water and pushed him away then swam back some distance, stopped, and began to splash water.  John turned on the man and splashed water back in his direction.  It had been a long time since someone had done something like that and if it had been anyone else John might have been angry about it but Clark, well Clark could get away with those things.

“If we had more people we could play Marco Polo,” Clark said.

“Yeah, we were playing that earlier.  It’s a fun game.”

“Are you a good swimmer?  We could race.”

“No, that’s okay,” John said.

“Come on it will be fun.  I’ll give you a lead.”

John shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said.  “I’m not really that good.”

“Do you know how?”

John shook his head.

“No sweat maybe we can do it later.  I can show you how.”

John looked to his mother.  It was the type of promise he had heard before but it felt more sincere.  He nodded.

“But let’s just enjoy the quiet huh?”

John nodded then watched as the man swam to the far end of the pool with an easy back stroke.  That was the lesson he should have learned, to do the back stroke.  Clark then pushed off from the wall and swam the length of the pool as John bobbed in the water.  Another lesson to be learned.  John looked to his mother who seemed to be equally entertained as if they were sharing a moment.

They swam for some time with very little contact between them, each mostly sticking to their own area of the pool.  Clark liked to swim from end to end while John clung to the wall or else did a few deep dives which he had taught himself to do.  John had forgotten he was swimming in the same pool as a nearly naked man until it was time to get out.  Very little was said.  It was more an unconscious agreement that all the joy had been drained from the event.  His mother retrieved a towel and carried it to the pool side next to the steps.

By then John was hanging onto the pool side where Clark was exiting.  It wasn’t on purpose, he thought, but as the man exited he couldn’t help but look to him, at him.  There in the light he could make out his buttocks more clearly than before and the way the cloth clung at his crotch.  His mother wrapped the towel around the man attempting to conceal him in yet another form fitting fabric.

They returned to their rooms shortly afterwards.  His mother and Clark together in one room and John in his own room, “to do things that fourteen year old boys do and to let parents do the things they want to do,” Clark had said.  John knew it meant that he had privacy to masturbate and they needed privacy to have sex.

John showered, put on a pair of underwear then lay face down on his bed.  His body felt surprisingly light, his muscles felt loosely attached to his body with a slight burn.  He thought he would be capable of swimming more but his brain was tired.

There in the darkness of his room he heard the slow grunts of his mother and Clark as they had sex.  There was a connecting door between the rooms, a thin one.  He appreciated that they were trying to be quiet, it even made him smile, but it also made him feel unlucky, even miserable to hear them and know the sounds for the rest of his life.

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Shadow's Night - Chapter 04 Blood Brother

The sound of knocking, then the sound of the doorbell awoke Simon from a nap on the sofa where he was flat on his back with one hand against his chest and the other hanging off the side.  He let out a moan and sat up.  There were no expected guests, no one would have been invited, and proselytizers had stopped coming years ago. 

There was more knocking, the doorbell, he got to his feet and walked from the living room into the foyer, passed the game room and the parlor to the front door that he opened cautiously, leaving the chain still attached.  He was blinded by the sunlight and held up his hand to shield his eyes.

There was a glare as a form stepped into the light and he could make out it was a young man he didn’t recognize.  Was this someone from town?  Maybe a newspaper boy?  Hadn’t he heard all of the terrible stories about the place, about him?  He winced as he tried to get a better look but he realized he’d need to take off the chain.

“Who is it?” Simon asked.

“Simon?  It’s me Conrad,” the stranger said.

“Conrad?” he asked. 

He thought about the people in town, relatives, and then he remembered it.  Conrad, of course, but how the hell did he find me?  He unfastened the chain as Conrad stepped closer.  For a moment they were caught in an awkward standoff as each was unsure what the other would do but finally Simon opened the door and invited him inside.  Conrad stepped into the house and kept his eyes on Simon.  They looked at each other, assessing subtle differences, unsure how to greet the other. 

It had been years since they had been together.  It was a different place and time for both of them when they were truly equals dressed in grey sweat pants and sweat shirts.  Each of them had gotten back to their own lives and how they changed showed that.  Conrad was dressed in a tank top, shorts, sandals, and sunglasses.  He had more muscles, notably his biceps, and he had tattoos, professional ones.  Simon was dressed formally in a button down shirt, vest, tie, slacks, and dress shoes.  He had a mustache. 

Would a handshake suffice?  Maybe a hug?  Simon thought about the options and he didn’t like either of them.  He didn’t like this familiar person from his past being there, reminding him, and yet he had always been curious. 

“Hello blood brother,” Conrad said.

Simon smiled at the greeting and held out his hand.  Conrad took it and shook his hand before pulling him against his chest and wrapping his left arm around Simon’s side to hug him.  Simon was caught off guard by the action and had it been anyone else he would have resisted more, fought back, or complained but he didn’t.  He let it go, even after the hug was too long and became awkward and uncomfortable.  Finally, Conrad let him go and they stepped back from each other.

“What’s this blood brother shit?” Simon asked.

“We are you know.  Or don’t you remember?”

“I remember, too well.  But how did you find me?”

Conrad tapped his head.

“You told me the town where you lived and it was pretty easy after that, after all I knew your name and lots of other things about you.”

Simon winced at the comment.  As nice as it was to see Conrad it was also reminder of his past, a connection to a time when he had been weaker, vulnerable.  What was it that made people friends?  What was it that bonded them?  And why did they think the relationship, whatever it was, could be mended so easily or had never been destroyed?  He pushed the thoughts aside and focused his mind on Conrad who sat before him with a familiar half smirk on his face.

“So this is your mom’s place?”

“Yeah, she’s upstairs in her bedroom,” Simon said.  “Don’t worry she’ll probably stay up there it’s the afternoon and she’s probably watching her religious programs.”

“A little Father, Son, and Holy Ghost action?”

Simon winced at the comment.  Conrad had always been easy to mock religion and church, and though Simon didn’t believe in any gods he still felt guilty about mocking them.  It was Sunday school, he thought.

“There really aren’t too many Simon Winters in town.  I only had to ask at the gas station.  They knew the place.”

“That easy,” Simon said.

Conrad smiled and nodded.  Simon was near as he had remembered him with thick hair and dark eyes that always looked like they were inspecting everything and everyone.  There was a darkness there, he had come to know it, but there was also a sincerity and kindness of someone who wanted to live in a perfect world.  He was handsome in his own way but not confident.

“So what brings you here?  You just wanted to see me?”

“Well, I uh, kind of was passing through because I’ve been out of state.  I wanted to go see my mom.  She still lives in my hometown but I don’t really have the extra money for a hotel room.”

They stared each other in the eye but Conrad wasn’t going to give in, break or confess.  He felt like his lie was working.  This made sense. 

“She’s pretty sick.  She has cancer.”

Simon broke from the eye contact and looked to the coffee table, to his hands that he rubbed nervously on his pants.  He had been caught trying to tell if someone was lying and he really couldn’t tell if he was.  He had his reasons to not trust Conrad but he also had his reasons to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“With me having been in juvenile hall, well it’s not good for me to be at the house too long or even stay around town there.  The cops there hate me.  I’d get a ticket just for crossing the street if they saw me.  And I’ve been working out of state so I don’t have a place around here.  I remembered you and I know it’s not like we’re high school friends but we were close.  You probably don’t want someone bringing up the past but I thought, I don’t know, you could help me out.”

Simon felt as if a ball of string in his chest had come undone.  He felt so bad for the person beside him, the person he had known, whose mother was dying of cancer.  He took a deep breath and let his shoulders relax.  It would be awkward but it could work.  He looked to Conrad, then past him and up to the ceiling where he imagined his mother in her bedroom.  This would need some careful explanation, he thought.

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Shadow's Night (Excerpt) Chapter 05 - Boredom

It was late and no one was in the coffee shop.  Breakfast had the most people, lunch was stretched out, and after people got off work was the most sporadic, but any time she could Heather sat transfixed with a book.  She was supposed to be learning the business, her business, but it was boring.  Her father owned it and she had been running it since she graduated from high school, a deal they had worked out given her lack of ambition to go to college.  Going some place local felt too much like going back to high school, if they weren’t the exact same kids it was still too close, and she didn’t feel like going away, not with her father the way he was, not with the business being his only support. 

She was reading Breakfast of Champions that evening, thinking Vonnegut got it wrong and that she lived in the asshole of the Universe and that if she wasn’t careful she might live there for the rest of her life.  She moaned at the thought.  She wanted a distraction and she thought about Kevin.  She hadn’t talked to him in weeks since he had been back to class.  She took out her phone and called him.

“Come down and visit me,” she said as soon as he picked up.  “I’m bored and no one is here.”

Alone in his room with one hand pressing the phone to his ear and the other scrolling through his dashboard he looked to the clock.  He was bored too and there was nothing he had to do immediately.  He agreed and ended the call before he got up from his desk chair, tightened the belt to his jean shorts, and made sure his fly was up.  He stuck his phone in his pocket, checked the weight of it there, and headed out. 

No one was there to notice him leave.  He slipped his shoes on at the front door, pulled the door shut behind him making sure it was locked before he turned on his feet and made the quick five minute walk to Main Street and the coffee shop.  He looked through the main window to Heather who looked back with her chin propped on her hand still bored.  He opened the door to the smell of coffee and baked goods.  His hands in the pockets of his hooded jacket he walked to the counter.

“Do you want something?” she asked.

“Uh,” he said before he looked back to the two people by the window.  “I don’t know.  Calories, you know, maybe just a tea.”

“No problem, go have a seat and I’ll bring it over,” she said.

He suddenly felt guilty for her waiting on him, and he hadn’t even paid.  He reached into his pocket for the few loose dollar bills but when she saw him she shook her head and motioned for him to go where she had told him to go.  He pulled out the dollars anyway and put them in the tip cup before he walked to the table, did a quick assessment of where she would need to sit to keep and eye on the door and sat in the opposite spot.  He listened to her.  She was getting a tea for herself, something to eat. 

Was it something to share?  He groaned at the thought.  He was hungry, just a little bit, but he knew he’d look better if he denied it rather than indulge.  She stepped out from behind the counter and walked to him where she set down a tray.  There were two teas and two scones. 

“You’re mean,” he said.

“Just a few carbs,” she said.  “Besides you get plenty of exercise.”

“This will be an extra mile, maybe half,” he said.

“Skinny Mr. Kevin,” she said.  She saw him wince at the comment.  “Sorry, it just came to mind.  We haven’t talked about it in a while.  Does your father still check up on you?”

“Sometimes,” he said.

“That’s nice,” she said.  “He cares.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, blow my brains out maybe.”

He recoiled at her sarcasm.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day,” she said.  “I’m going to buy bullets with my tips.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and crossed one leg over the other to turn away from her slightly mocking her desperate, bitter attitude.  She pulled her hands to her face and let out a grunt of disgust before she stretched out her arms and lay face down on the table for a second before she raised her shoulders with an inhale of air.

“That bad?”

“I’m here breakfast, lunch, and dinner everyday.  I can take time off here and there, I convinced my father to get someone to help but it’s all just the same.  It was bad when there were more people I knew from high school but there’s been two classes since we graduated.  They get dumber each year.  Somehow the place became hip.

“God, the other day there were a group of teen girls in here who talked about the television show Friends the whole time and how they wanted to go to New York.  Boy are they going to be disappointed.”

“Reruns,” he said.  “It gives us such bad impressions.” 

“My father likes it but ugh, I’d rather be in some bookstore somewhere, reading quietly in the back, only sell things occasionally.”

“People would steal your books,” he said.

“No one steals books,” she said.  “They’re not worth anything.” 

She broke off a piece of scone and stuck it in her mouth, began to chew.  Kevin watched her, looked at his own scone, looked away.

“How’s class?” she asked.

“Boring but I’ll get through it,” he said, “we’re supposed to research our local town and write a piece about it for our final paper.  It’s not due for a long time though.”

“Not much to write about here,” she said.

“Some white people took land from some natives who suffered on a reservation until a loophole allowed them to open a casino where poor people of all colors go to gamble and buy cheap cigarettes.”

“Wow, that doesn’t sound bitter at all,” she said.

He laughed mockingly at her causing her to smile.

“So really what do you want to do?” he asked.

“Tarot card reading,” she said.

“Aw, come on?”

“No, it’ll be good.”

She got up from the table and went behind the counter to her bag where she retrieved a cloth bag that held her Tarot cards and returned with it.  She sat across from him with renewed energy.  She opened the bag, got out the cards, and shuffled them.  She held them close to her body with her eyes closed, readied herself across from him before she slid them in his direction.  He picked up the cards.  They had been through this several times but each time he relied on her instruction and her creativity for what the cards meant.

“You deal your own fate,” she said.

He shuffled the cards, toyed with her a little before she instructed him on how to lay them out for a twenty-one card reading.  She looked at them for several minutes when something else caught her eye, a spark.  She looked up through the main window to the sidewalk where she saw a young man, a stranger, Conrad, with a cigarette in his hand signaling for someone to join him.  The stranger was handsome.  He wore a leather jack, the collar up towards his face to protect him from the wind.

“Who is that?” she asked.

Kevin turned on his seat to look out the front window.  He looked to the young man, was captivated by his handsome face, his button nose, and kissable lips.  He didn’t have to be gay, he thought, anyone would want him. 

“Holy shit,” Heather said, “look who’s walking up to him.”

Kevin turned a little more to see the direction the young man was staring to see a familiar person stop in front of him.  He knew that face.

“It’s Simon Winters,” she said.

Kevin turned around back to her, his muscles and joints slightly ached by the way he was turned.  He let out a grunt of pain and looked her in the eye before he turned back to see the two young men outside the coffee shop talking, then he looked back to her with one ear listening for the door.

“Do you think they’re coming in here?” she asked.

“Has he ever come in here?”

“No, I’ve never seen him in here.  He usually sticks to himself.  I only ever see him in the library sometimes but he’s always alone.  I’ve thought about going up and saying something to him.”

“More like getting his autograph,” he said.

“He’s infamous, not famous,” she replied.

“Is he moving in this direction?”

“I think they are,” she said.

They looked to the door where Conrad pushed his way inside followed by Simon who walked with his hands in his pockets.  Heather jumped to her feet and made her way behind the counter to where her patrons took turns looking at each other, the selection of baked goods, and coffee.

“I’m terrible at this,” Conrad said.

“I told you I’ve never been here,” Simon replied.  He was annoyed for having been dragged along and didn’t want it to be any easier.

“Can I help you?” Heather asked.

Conrad leaned against the counter and looked into Heather’s eyes, looked her over before looking to Kevin who sat staring back at him.  They caught each other’s eyes and looked away, each with nearly the same thought, he’s cruising me, here.  Conrad shook off the thought.

“I usually just get black coffee and a scone,” he said.

“We can do that,” she said.

“What about your friend?”

Everyone looked to Simon who held up a hand of slight protest.  He looked to the floor and out into the street trying to show no interest.

“He’ll have the same,” Conrad said.

She rang up the order but she wanted to know more.  She had an idea.

“I uh, usually call out a name,” she said.

“Conrad,” he replied.

Heather and Kevin looked to each other as Conrad began to count out cash.  He paid with a ten dollar bill and when he got back the change he dropped a dollar and the change in the tip cup.  Simon looked ready to leave but Conrad led him to a table where they sat.  Conrad cast one last look across the room to Kevin who had focused back on the Tarot cards on the table.  He spied the young man’s muscled calf and the way he played with his hair.  Maybe there were queers here after all, he thought, and maybe I should get to know them.

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Shadow's Night
After shooting a man while on a bender of drugs he was supposed to sell Conrad flees the city and goes to a place where he believes no one will find him, the home of Simon Winters, an old cellmate from his years in juvenile detention.  But he knows he can’t stay for long and Conrad’s greed inadvertently causes Simon to confront his past and his life in a small town where memories run deep.  How will Simon survive Conrad’s path to darkness?

Sample Chapters: ch 1 - http://queerwordsmakestories.blogspot.com/2014/05/shadows-night-prologue-going-home.html

ch 2 - http://queerwordsmakestories.blogspot.com/2014/05/shadows-night-unpublished-excerpt.html

ch 3 - http://queerwordsmakestories.blogspot.com/2014/05/shadows-night-excerpt-unpublished.html

Shadow's Night (Excerpt) Chapter 02 - Spilled Blood

After shooting a man while on a bender of drugs he was supposed to sell Conrad flees the city and goes to a place where he believes no one will find him, the home of Simon Winters, an old cellmate from his years in juvenile detention.  But he knows he can’t stay for long and Conrad’s greed inadvertently causes Simon to confront his past and his life in a small town where memories run deep.  How will Simon survive Conrad’s path to darkness?   

Present Day...

Rain fell against the windshield of the parked ‘94 Lincoln as it sat in the back of the grocery store parking lot away from customers and light.  Inside the car two men, Conrad and Marcus, sat contemplating their fates and what one of them had done.  Conrad, the younger of the two, looked out through the splattered rain drops into the night sky.  He wanted to confess something they both knew.  He wanted to say it even though it didn’t seem rational.

There had been minutes of silence between them after Marcus had picked him up and driven him to the lot.  Marcus had been a mentor and his lover for over two years.  He was a strong man, tough and unsympathetic.  He had decried sentimentality and empathy on a regular basis.  And Conrad was afraid how the man would react.

“Marcus, I shot someone,” Conrad said. 

When Marcus didn’t respond he looked to the older man who sat next to him blowing smoke out of the partially open window.  Marcus knocked ash onto the floor.  He stroked his beard, scratched at his throat as if he were massaging the words there.

“Tell me about it,” Marcus said.

“I was over at Tina’s.  It was early morning so no one was there.  I was playing 9-Ball alone just to hone my skills.  I had been up a few days snorting Ritalin and whatever else so I was scratching and getting frustrated.  I was lining up a shot and not paying attention, bam, he blindsides me.” 

Conrad thought about the way the enforcer hit him, lifted him from the ground and sent him flying into a nearby table, the feeling of the edge against his back, falling to the ground, and the way the carpet felt on his hands.  He shook off the memory. 

“I look up and it’s Dylan.  He never liked me and he’s got this look in his eye because for once he’s justified to kick the shit out of me.”

“But how did you get mixed up with that sadistic bastard?” Marcus asked.

“He had that pharmaceutical connection.  I thought it would be easy money.  Everyone at the clubs and parties wants the pills because they know it’s uncut and high quality and I knew I could overcharge them.  It would be a hustle but still it would be worth it.  The weed from you was good but this was... I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s your life.  You were being an entrepreneur.”

“Anyway, he’s on me but it’s like he’s toying with me.  That was the worst part.  I’m saying anything I can to get him to stop.  I say, ‘I’ll do anything’ and he laughs at me.  He tells me he had a bet that I’d try to bribe him with sex and how fags were good earners but could never be real members. 

“I start to get to my knees but I’m dizzy and he grabs hold of my hair, I fall against him.  He starts laughing.  That’s when I got my gun from the ankle holster and I press the barrel up into his balls.  Fucker turned white as a ghost, he was scared of me or some freak accident. 

“I had him good.  He lets me go and backs away.  I get to my feet but stagger.  He moves like he’s coming at me but there’s too much distance and I steady myself.  I can feel as I look at him, this maggot is mine.”

“You shot him?”

“No, not like that.  I was ready to let him go.  I just wanted some sleep.  He starts saying things like how this isn’t over and how I owe money, and how the next time he sees me it’s personal, that he’ll take my head off and let guys use it for a toilet.  It all felt so weird.  I knew what I was doing but I don’t know.  He says to me, ‘Next time I-’ and that’s when I pointed my gun at his chest. 

“He held out his hand and you know the funny thing is that I shot it.  I shot his hand.  I’ve barely used a gun but it just popped up, bam.  I see him start to go weak but I’m thinking I have to finish this so I shoot at him.  One shot hits the wall, another hits some glass, and I’m panicking so I close on him and bam, bam, he’s down and out.”

Marcus sat in the passenger seat slowly nodding.

“What do I do now?”

“Now you run,” Marcus said.

“What?  Why?  No one else saw me.  Did they?”

“Some waitress named Brenda saw the whole thing from behind the door.  She called the police, said you shot him in cold blood.  The police have a sketch of your face and a description.  They don’t know your name but they’ll probably find fingerprints.  The Brotherhood got to her after that which is how I know.  I heard it from her directly, and they know your name.  They’re coming after you.” 

“Even you?”

Marcus gave him a look and Conrad let out a nervous laugh.

“I care about you but this can’t be fixed.  You have to get out of this city and start over somewhere.  You can’t go home and you can’t go to any relative’s place.  Drive out to the West Coast and get lost there.”

“What about us?”

“Maybe one day, when I retire or maybe I can meet up with you sometime, somewhere on a vacation but you know everything I do is with the club.”

“I’ll be alone,” he said.  He didn’t know if he loved the man.  He didn’t believe in love.  But he did need the man.  He could rely on him.

Some part of him wanted to be just cold and calculating.  Some part of him wanted to believe Marcus cared.  He wanted to believe it wasn’t a facade like when he pretended to be tough and when he pretended to be straight.  He had to find out.  He had to make the man feel something for him.  He winced and looked to his hands.  He felt like he could cry but he knew that would be too weak to Marcus.  He had to have strength enough to hold the tears back.

“Do you have enough?”

“I’ve got a little of what I was selling, some cash I was going to pay him, a few things but nothing of real value.”

Marcus reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a roll of bills wrapped in rubber bands.  The wad had been stuck together for some time and was old and not bills recently taken from a cash machine.

“There’s three grand there in small bills mostly.  That’s the best I can come up with right now from my squirrel fund.”

“I need more than this,” Conrad said.  “I can’t live like I did before when I was on the street.  I can’t go back to that.”

“Do you have some place you can stay for a while?  I can get you some more money unless you find some of your own.”

Conrad slouched in his seat as he tried to think over his friends in life, someone the police and the gang wouldn’t know about, couldn’t find through a simple background check.  There was one name that came to mind, they had been close once for a brief time but never stayed in contact.  It would be easy enough to track him down.

“Yeah, I might know someone,” Conrad said.

“Good, take the car and drive out now, as far as you can.  No one knows what you’re driving so don’t get panicked.  You find a place off the main road somewhere and crash for a few days to sleep this off.  We’ll stay in contact through my second burner phone, no one knows about it.”

“This guy, he lives-”

Marcus silenced him with a finger.

“I don’t want to know where.  You need to get safe, let this blow over, and I’ll contact you.”

“Thank you,” Conrad said.

“Come here,” Marcus replied.

Conrad leaned over to hug Marcus but was lifted to his lap where they embraced and kissed as the older man ran his hands under the younger man’s shirt to his shoulder blades where he grasped at the skin there.

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Shadow's Night - Prologue Going Home (Excerpt)

After shooting a man while on a bender of drugs he was supposed to sell Conrad flees the city and goes to a place where he believes no one will find him, the home of Simon Winters, an old cellmate from his years in juvenile detention.  But he knows he can’t stay for long and Conrad’s greed inadvertently causes Simon to confront his past and his life in a small town where memories run deep.  How will Simon survive Conrad’s path to darkness? 
Eight years ago...

They’re going to remember me, Simon thought as he walked out of his high school headed home, anyone messes with me they’re going to remember it.  I might not be big, I might not be strong, but if I have to fight, if it comes down to it, then I will scar them in some way, I don’t even have to win, just leave them with something so they remember.  He thumbed the knife in his pocket.  His jaw was tight and shoulders raised. 

The school year had started easily and he was looking for a new start after the summer he had but over the last few weeks, intermittently, a group of boys, led by his new archenemy Josh, had begun teasing him.  The first time he had mistakenly thought as they drove by and honked the horn it was some kind of hello and he had even, foolishly, waved back but he regretted that the next day and successive days when they would pass.  They honked at him, yelled at him, threatened him, and even tried to swing at him with their hands and a baseball bat.  

That was bad enough, but then it became something else as he passed Josh’s house.  He hated that house.  That house had been the site of his great embarrassment just that summer.  The year before he had become infatuated with Josh’s sister Lucy who was in the same grade.  He thought it was mutual.  She flirted with him every time they were together, more when they were alone.  She had been flirtatious and he had been awkward.  She would touch and rub against him.  He wanted her badly and had even asked her out but she politely refused.

It started with an impulse to see her, maybe something romantic like throwing stones at her window.  It was easy to find but he didn’t have the courage.  However, he found that sometimes, especially if he waited long enough he could see her undress. 

It was his secret until his mother followed him one night.  He was in the darkness with one hand down inside his pants waiting to see her again.  His mother was quiet, or else he was too absorbed, but she grabbed him from behind.  He let out a scream of panic that became screams of pain as she struck him.  The neighbors opened their front doors.  Lucy came to the window.  His mother pulled him to their front lawn.  By then Josh and his father were on the front porch.  He remembered Josh was in his boxers and for a moment he wasn’t sure who should be more embarrassed.

He thought for a moment his mother would make him apologize but she didn’t.  She dragged him away and back to their home, made him bare himself, then spanked him with the belt that had been left hanging in his father’s office.  He felt as if his sin, his mischievous act, had been beaten from him that night as the pain was burned into his flesh.

Sometimes he wanted to try and rub that pain as he passed by the house except he was usually too distracted by Josh and his friends.  Sometimes he thought they would run out and chase after him but one of the boys had another idea.  They got eggs.  It became a sporting event.  Any day they got back before he passed they would throw eggs at him, only once coming close enough to get splatter on his pant cuff.  He started to think about a day when it got worse.  He said something, they said something, or maybe they thought of something else.

It was the same as the time before when boys in his same grade made him take off his jeans and hand them over after school.  He had to walk the rest of the way in a pair of white briefs, trying to cover himself with his hands and shirt, sneaking through yards if he could but risking double the exposure.  The old people in the neighborhood watched their yards like a hawk ready to confront anyone who dared cross their manicured, green lawns.  He managed to sneak inside and up to his room without his mother noticing and he thought it was over.  The next day at school all his classmates knew.  Most didn’t say anything directly, just whispered behind his back, but others, other boys, they teased him, especially in the locker room.  Eventually the principal found out and confronted the boys, making Simon recount the incident in front of them.  The boys were threatened with suspension and his mother was told but little else came of it.  His mother only tried to console him when he got home.

But he vowed to himself that it was a once in a lifetime event.  He would only be humiliated like that once.  The next time someone might get over on him, beat him, strip him, but he would fight and he would mark them, leave a scar in some way.  He ran his thumb over the backside of the blade enjoying the feel of the blunt edge of the metal.  He had one plan for how to react.  He wasn’t going to flash it.  He wasn’t going to threaten them.  His advantage was that they thought they had the upper hand. 

He walked along the familiar route, head down.  The boys’ car passed him.  He felt a lump in his throat.  He got within 100 yards and for a moment he thought about trying to go some other way, but they’ll know I’m chicken, he thought, so he continued on.  He walked steadily as he usually did. 

Even when they threw the eggs he didn’t try to jump around and dodge them.  He let them hit as they usually did, but then he found himself doing something else.  He turned and gave them the finger.  It was a motion, a gesture that he felt ripped him from path in space and time, pulled him into some intangible present.  The boys yelled and taunted, grabbed at their crotches and flipped him off.  But he didn’t walk away.  He stood there for everyone to see, all the neighbors.  The boys began to call for him, invite him, and feeling half-possessed he walked in their direction.  He took his hand from his pocket as he stepped onto the grass. 

“Come on pervert,” Josh yelled.

He didn’t want to fight them, not really.  He wanted them to stop.  He wanted to confront them.  He was the new cowboy in town and they were the bad guys.  He paid little attention to anything else, just them, but especially Josh.  He didn’t notice the grass, the birds in the trees, a bright blue sky, an airplane passing over, just them.  He got within ten feet and stopped.  There were five of them and Lucy, she was on the porch.  Had she organized this as some revenge?

“What do you want pervert?” Josh asked.

“I want you to stop,” Simon said.

Josh mocked him, adding an extra lisp to the phrase.  Everyone laughed.

“Quit it,” Simon said.

“Or what?”

“It’s not right,” Simon said.

“Why don’t you walk away so we can have some more practice,” Josh said.  “We still have about a half dozen eggs that needs used.”

“No.”

“What did you say?  I’m giving you a chance to walk away from this.  You don’t want me to kick the living shit out of you.  I’ll do it.  I will beat you senseless, maybe pull off your faggot clothes, make you walk home naked.  Post some pictures of that on the internet, spank your ass.”

“You’re a moron,” Simon replied.  “You sound like a faggot talking about pulling off my clothes and spanking me.  Is that what your dad does before bed?”

He didn’t know where the last sentence came from, his skin burned from the intensity of it.  He had crossed over another threshold.  There was no going back.  He thought to run away, but when he looked for a path, a direction out, Josh was too close, they all were.

“My boys here are going to kick your ass,” he said.

Simon stepped back but readied himself.

“Your boys?  You need boys?  Are you too much of a faggot to fight me alone?”

Josh pulled at his shirt, up over his shoulders and off, threw it to one of his friends.  Several years older he had been going to the gym regularly.  His muscles were impressive, if not intimidating. 

“Do you like this faggot?”

“Leave me alone,” Simon said.

“Or what?”

Josh’s friends began to circle him and Simon dropped his back pack to the ground beside his feet, stepped away so he wouldn’t get caught on it.  He stared at Josh but was wary of the young man’s friends so he kept his attention open, ready for any move.  But the friends didn’t act, they weren’t ready to participate.  They wanted a show, a performance of Josh beating Simon.  He readied himself by raising himself on the balls of his feet.  He noticed Josh was more flat footed, over confident. 

When Josh moved to grab him he let himself be over taken but grappled back a little trying to hold him enough, slow him down.  He wasn’t prepared for the blows to his back, his sides, his face.  Punches and slaps meant to embarrass not severely harm, not initially.  Josh tried to manipulate him into a headlock, a chokehold, but he fought back, escaped.  They circled each other.  Simon didn’t throw one punch.  He knew he couldn’t get past the long arms and guard of his opponent.  He waited until they were locked up again before he tried his one move by pulling Josh to the ground.  It was a Judo move he had read about.  He didn’t expect it to work.  He fell atop Josh who was quick to roll with him until he was on top.

“I’m going to fucking tear off your head and shit down your neck,” Josh said between grunts.  He grabbed at Simon’s arms, his wrists, but Simon had one last move.  He reached for his pocket.  “I’m going to mess you up.”

Josh didn’t notice.  He laughed as he slapped and toyed with his prey.  It was the opening Simon needed as he pulled his knife out.  He flicked open the quick action blade and stabbed up into Josh’s soft belly.  He was surprised by the feeling of it, the moment when it hit and went straight into him, then when it stopped. 

Warm blood ran down over his hand, onto his shirt, he could feel it against his skin.  “What the hell?” Josh said.  He pulled himself away and Simon held onto the knife.  Josh almost got to his feet but fell back on his ass.  He looked around before his head hit the green lawn. 

“I’ve been stabbed,” he said.

Simon pushed himself away, first he sat up, then he got to his knees.  He cleaned the blade of his knife on his jeans, looked to the rest of them, but everyone else was in a panic.  Two of the boys were on their phones, Lucy ran to her older brother, grabbed at him.  She wailed and cried.  He had crossed another threshold.  He thought about running home, hiding somewhere.  He thought about the attic but there wouldn’t be enough time.  He knew he couldn’t hide from this. 

Police were being called.  No one else wanted to fight.  He threw the knife into the dirt before him making it stick up, available for use but also making him unarmed.  He didn’t have a choice in what would happen next, he told himself.  If Josh lived or died he didn’t have a choice, the past was some violent moment that would pull through the rest of his life.  He felt like he wanted to cry but stopped himself.  There was no weakness, he had been weak once but never again.

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