Hard Sell
Authors: Kendall Morgan
Hard Sell
by
Kendall Morgan
Published by Tulabella Ruby Press
Copyright 2015 Kendall Morgan
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.
Other titles by Kendall Morgan:
Twinks in Bearland
Keeping Score
Rough Cut
Spooky Ginger Love
The Last AIDS Patient
Cover design: 3 Rusted Spoons
Editor: Cassandra Pierce
Hard Sell
Chapter One
The road curved slightly to the left before it straightened out again, revealing a sign that read
Stratford Acres
. Every time Wes Mitchell saw that sign he smiled. This time was no different, and he turned his Hyundai Azera onto the gravel drive and followed it until the farmhouse, barn and outbuildings loomed into view. He parked next to a handful of other cars on a grassy area near the house. As he got out of his car, he could see coils of smoke emerging from the grills out back. He heard whoops of laughter and shouting. The Midsummer Sangria and Sausages Cookout was in full swing.
Wes’ friends, Gary and Jeff, owned the farm and often held parties there. The cookout was a much-anticipated annual event. Wes, Gary and Jeff were Midwestern boys who had gone west—Gary and Jeff to San Francisco, Wes to Los Angeles—to live openly as gay men, but they had come home around the same time about fifteen years ago. They wanted to be with family and live a quieter life, while still being themselves as much as they could. Gary and Jeff, a longstanding couple, bought a farm from one of Jeff’s relatives on the outskirts of Urlack and had been raising Berkshire pigs for the last several years. Urlack, a small Midwestern city, may have lacked some of the amenities of San Francisco or Los Angeles, but it had enough for them.
Wes walked around to the back and saw several guys who were regulars at Gary and Jeff’s parties. Jeff waved to him.
“Hey, Wes! You got the sauce?” Jeff said.
Wes took a jar out of his backpack and held it aloft. “Right here!”
Wes was rightly proud of being one of the top real estate agents in the area, but it was his barbecue sauce that made his friends and family smile. Selling real estate paid the bills, but making barbecue sauces had recently become a passion that fed his creative side. He always brought a few jars with him to Gary and Jeff’s cookouts. Today, he brought one containing a white barbecue sauce. That’s what Jeff wanted to use to finish the chicken legs and homemade chicken sausages he was grilling. He also brought with him jars of sweet onion sauce, mustard sauce and a habanero-ghost chili pepper sauce. One of Wes’ friends described the latter as a fiery fiesta for your taste buds.
After dropping off the sauce with Jeff, Wes headed to the buffet table set up on the patio. He loaded up his plate with a pulled pork sandwich, cole slaw and baked beans. He grabbed a beer from the cooler and scanned the crowd gathered in the backyard. Lately, maybe within the past year, whenever he came to one of Gary and Jeff’s parties, he had started to wonder—no, he was hoping he’d meet a really great guy. He’d been single, mostly by choice, for too long. The dating pool for gay men in Urlack was small, although there had been a few contenders. None of them had worked out.
Maybe this time,
he thought. He sat down at a picnic table next to a guy named Ben and caught of strong whiff of mosquito repellant that Ben had applied liberally. Ben was a new addition to their little clique that included Wes along with Gary and Jeff as well as a handful of other gay guys from in and around Urlack.
Wes coughed dramatically. “Pretty heavy-handed there with the cologne, Ben.”
“Oh, ha ha, such a comedian. I’ll be eaten alive out here if I don’t spray it on thick,” Ben said. “Welts from insect bites are not a good look for me.”
“Well, if I weren’t immune to the dubious charms of mosquitoes I’d hope I could get some protection just by being in your vicinity.” Wes took a bite of the pulled pork sandwich. It was perfect. “My compliments to the chef!” He waved at Gary who was playing the good host, checking on his friends as they tucked in to the meal.
“Thanks, man. I think it’s the best one I’ve ever done,” Gary said. He leaned down between Wes and Ben and whispered. “Sammy is especially succulent, don’t you think?”
Wes chortled. He saw Ben’s eyes widen.
“You
name
them? You name them, then kill them and eat them?” Ben was very close to getting shrill.
Gary cackled and strode away.
Wes shook his head. “He’s yanking your chain, Ben.”
“What?” Ben looked torn. The pulled pork was delicious, but clearly the thought of eating something that had had a name made him queasy.
“He’s testing you. He does it to everybody. Don’t let it get to you,” Wes said.
Ben kept chewing, apparently deciding that excellent pulled pork shouldn’t be wasted. “Asshole.” He grinned.
Gary and Jeff’s barbecues were popular with the gay men in the area. As a group, they tended to skew older, most of them being in their forties and up. A few younger guys showed up once in a while, usually as the boyfriends of older men. Wes noticed a few younger men were here tonight. One in particular caught his eye. When the man smiled a small dimple appeared just to the right of his mouth.
Cute guy, very cute,
Wes thought. He suspected the younger man was in his early thirties.
Jeff sat down next to Wes to finally eat a bite or two before he had to return to being an attentive host.
“Who’s that?” Wes asked.
“Who’s who?” Jeff said.
“The new young guy. The one with the brown hair talking to Jason. I haven’t seen him at any of your parties before.”
Jeff looked in the direction that Wes had motioned. “Oh, him. He’s Jason’s latest pick-up. I think they met at Big Ed’s.”
“Really?” Wes asked. Big Ed’s 24/7 XXX Emporium was a place where men met and had a good time with each other, but they didn’t usually go on a date afterwards.
Jeff nodded. “I think ‘pick-up’ may be a bit of an exaggeration. I think Jason just mentioned the party in passing while they were perusing the porn selection at Big Ed’s. He’s hot. Too hot for Jason, actually. He’s probably more interested in the party than Jason. You like him?”
“He’s got possibilities,” Wes said. “Does he like older guys?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
*
A bit later in the evening, Wes joined a conversation going on with Jason, Jesse, Ben and a few other men. They were sitting in the gazebo that Jeff and his dad had built. The conversation ranged from the latest movies and trendiest TV programs to possible candidates for local elections to the best anal lube. At one point, Wes found himself sitting next to Jesse. Jason had excused himself a few minutes before. The solar-powered lamps set around the gazebo started to light up as dusk settled in before giving way to night.
“Gary and Jeff have got a really great spread here,” Jesse said.
“That they do. I’m Wes Mitchell.” He offered his hand. The two men shook hands.
“Jesse Ekstrom.”
“Pleasure meeting you,” Wes said. “This is your first time here, right?”
Jesse grinned. “Yeah. Does it show that I’m such a newbie in Jeff and Gary World?”
“It’s not that. It’s more that I’ve been to every one of Jeff and Gary’s soirees, and I’m pretty sure I’d remember you if you’d been here before.” Wes hoped it didn’t sound too much like a pick-up line, but then would it be so bad if it did?
“Well, one thing’s for sure. I bring down the median age here, just a little bit.”
Wes thought he heard a mischievous yet playful edge in Jesse’s voice. In the golden glow given off by a nearby lamp, he may have even seen a naughty flicker in Jesse’s brown eyes. Wes laughed.
“You’re right,” Wes said. “This can be a bit of an AARP homestead.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself!” A guy named Philip had piped up. “I will always be 30, and no one can tell me different! I’ve got the receipts for my skin care regimen to prove it!” Philip preened to the delight of the guys in the gazebo.
At that moment, Jason returned and wedged himself between Wes and Jesse. He handed Jesse a drink. It was all Wes could do not to laugh out loud. Jesse was so not into Jason, but Jason was into Jesse. That was clear, but Jason did manage to do a good job of monopolizing Jesse. It wasn’t until Wes was leaving the party that he got a chance to talk to Jesse again.
“Where’s Jason?” Wes asked as Jesse walked with him to his car.
“In the bathroom, I think,” Jesse said. “Look, it was nice meeting you.”
Wes stopped next to his car and leaned against the driver’s side door. “Same here.”
He imagined what he would have done had he met Jesse under the same circumstances ten or twenty years ago. He would have placed his hand on the front of Jesse’s pants, very close to the bulge he could see forming there now. Jesse was standing close enough to him to do it. He didn’t think Jesse would mind. He’d never met a man who had minded, but he didn’t do it. It was too late. He pushed the button on his keychain to unlock the driver’s side door and opened the door, and then he realized that Jesse was still standing there. He was saying various numbers.
“What?” said Wes.
Jesse looked away. He may have blushed. The darkness made it hard for Wes to see.
“It’s my phone number. Just my number. If you want to give me a call,” Jesse said.
“Your number. Okay. Say it again, slower this time.”
So Jesse gave him his number. Wes thanked him and got into his car.
Maybe it wasn’t too late,
he thought. As he started his car, he saw Jason coming around the house from the backyard.
“Your minder is looking for you,” Wes said out the car window.
“Yeah. I’ll see you around.” Jesse turned and walked away, meeting Jason halfway across the front yard.
Chapter Two
When Wes had introduced himself to Jesse, he had called himself Wes Mitchell, and that was technically correct. His birth certificate said Wesley Charles Mitchell, and he had spent most of his life being called “Wes.” Years ago he had used another name, and he didn’t want anyone to know what that was. If anyone knew, he was pretty sure that his list of regular real estate clients would find someone else with whom to work. Gary and Jeff already knew. His other friends would probably be supportive, but he had the feeling that his mother would be heartbroken. And who knew what other crap the denizens of Urlack could come up with.
Wes hadn’t just left Los Angeles. He had left West Hollywood and the porn industry. He had been a porn star, not one of the biggest, but he was pretty high up there. He came home to Urlack fifteen years ago for two reasons. The first reason was that he was burned out on drugs and sex. Hell, when he left his porn career behind, he couldn’t even get his dick hard anymore. He needed to stop fucking, snorting, licking, injecting and inhaling. Making porn sounded like fun to most people. It was at times, but making porn turned sex into work and really sucked all the fun out of it, no pun intended. And a lot of porn stars died of unnatural causes. He didn’t want to be a headline with a needle in his arm or a gun in his hand or anyone else’s. He didn’t want to die of AIDS. He also came home to take care of his mother. She had just had a stroke, and she needed him. Wes believed that they had saved each other’s lives.
His mother had recovered to the point where she could live alone for the most part but needed some help with heavy lifting and building maintenance. They lived together in a two-flat. Wes had the upper apartment, and his mother had the lower level. Just after her stroke, she needed him to do everything. Wes had initially grumbled, but caring for his mother had allowed him to get to know her and relate to her as an adult. He grew to like her for who she was. She wasn’t at all surprised when he came out to her a year after his return. He couldn’t live with her and keep the fact that he was gay from her. He didn’t tell her about his porn career. He thought she’d find it shocking and be disappointed in him, although he wondered from time to time if he underestimated her.
When he had come out to her, she had said to him, “You know, I lived through the ‘60s, just in case you have more to tell.”
On Sunday night, the day after the barbecue, he drove past Gary and Jeff’s and went even farther into the country to Big Ed’s 24/7 XXX Emporium. About thirty years ago, the owner of a failing family farm decided that selling land to a guy who wanted to open an adult bookstore was a way of giving the finger to the food corporations that wanted his land. The corporations still ended up with some of it, but they had to work around Big Ed’s.
Wes came here several times a month unless he had a party at Gary and Jeff’s to attend or a “date” with Lucy, his office assistant at the real estate sales office he owned. He parked his car behind the single-story black building along with about fifty other cars. Some men sat in their vehicles, unwilling to go in because they were either too cheap to pay the five-dollar admittance or liked the greater risk associated with waiting in a parking lot that everyone knew was under surveillance by local law enforcement. Men would strut around and tap on each other’s windows, especially on a mild night like tonight. When Big Ed, or whatever the owner was calling himself this week, hadn’t paid off the right people, at least one of those men would be an undercover cop.
Wes wasn’t quite sure why the police never bothered themselves with what went on inside, but they didn’t. He strolled in and paid five bucks to Marge, who sat, as always, in a small chamber protected by bullet-proof glass. Marge, a tiny, elderly African-American woman, had worked there for years and was there most nights. She appeared fragile and harmless but took no shit. Cash only. No checks, no credit cards, no food stamps. She could spot a fake ID from a mile away. A lot of the regulars felt a great deal of affection for her.
Wes lingered briefly in the front room with its displays of sex toys in packages illustrated with beautiful people. Truthfully, not much had changed since he was in the business. The colors had changed with the times, and the newer glass dildos were like works of art. The double-headed dildos were still ridiculous. And then he saw it.
A photo of Wes Western was framed on the wall as July’s vintage porn star of the month. That was him, but much younger. Wes Western was Wes Mitchell’s dirty secret, and he crouched down in the photo, dick in hand. As always, he had a neatly trimmed beard and nicely groomed chest hair. Wes Mitchell thought he looked pretty good these days, and he was enjoying getting older. Honestly, though, the word “vintage,” kind of smarted.
He made his way to the back room into its warren of little cubicles, which had their own video monitors and consoles for requesting various films. These got wiped down by the cleaning crew on a regular basis, and each cubicle was big enough for, at most, two people to have awkward, sweaty sex. If you didn’t want to be quite so close, the dividing walls had holes about the right size and height of the average man’s dick and balls.
Wes chose his cubicle and requested the latest SminaTina video. SminaTina made videos that were of halfway decent quality, mostly filmed in East European countries. Most gay porn companies had gone east. It was just easier and frequently cheaper. Some U.S. states were requiring adult film performers to wear condoms. Wes agreed with this in principle. He’d known too many people get sick and die, but wearing a condom for hours on end was more difficult than it sounded. And, yes, Wes could have watched the video in the safety of his own home. This was more fun.
As
Butt Sharks 15
started playing on his screen, he heard someone enter the cubicle to the left of his. He heard moaning and grunting all around him. The video title flashed by. After a cursory glance into each other’s eyes, the performers began fucking.
Foreplay hadn’t been a strong suit in Wes Western’s movies, but modern porn didn’t do any at all. And he missed the story set-up they used to do. So, there never was much of a story, but there was something. He had liked kissing some of the guys he had acted with. A few had hang-ups about kissing, but most were pretty open to it.
Now Bobby Hawkes, real name unknown, had been a great kisser. Wes had done four movies with Bobby. In one movie, they had played cops, beat partners, who seemed to always find a way to have hot, steamy sex on the job, which was bad policing any way you looked at it. Wes and Bobby kissed a lot in their movies, and Wes had had a thing for Bobby. He thought Bobby might have felt the same way about him, but the industry really wasn’t set up to encourage or nurture that kind of intimacy. Thinking about Bobby, even after all these years, never failed to arouse Wes. Truth be told, his memories of Bobby were more of a turn-on than
Butt Sharks 15
.
He heard a knock on the wall coming from the cubicle on his left. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his hardening cock. He pushed it and his balls through the glory hole in the wall. He could feel his dick getting harder as whoever it was in the next cubicle started stroking his shaft. The hand on his dick was warm. It moved gently at first and then got harder. The hand tickled Wes’ hairy balls. Wes moaned. His breathing became heavier.
“Suck it,” he said, pushing his chest closer to the wall. “Suck my cock now.”
Then he felt a tongue. The tongue licked all around his cock’s head before running the length of the shaft and back to the head again. The mystery man wrapped his mouth around Wes’ cock and pumped up and down. Wes’ groans joined the chorus of men in the Emporium.
“Oh, yeah, suck it good,” Wes said, his back arching.
The mouth pulled away, and Wes could feel hot breath on his cock.
What the hell? What was the man doing?
thought Wes. He was so close to coming. “Hey, no fair stopping before I’m done.”
The mouth returned to Wes’ cock. The wet warmth felt so good. The mouth moved up and down some more, and then Wes came. Porn had taken away some of his love of sex, but it came roaring back just then. His jizz was flowing again, and right now it was landing in a mystery mouth.
“Oh, yeah, thank you,” Wes said, pulling his dick and balls out of the hole.
Men at the Emporium did a lot of grunting, moaning and groaning. Wes always liked to say, “thank you.” Occasionally he got an intelligible response. He didn’t know what to do with what the mouth in the next cubicle said next.
“You’re welcome. By the way, I know who you are, Wes Western.”
Wes tucked in his dick and balls and zipped up his pants. He stood there for a moment. Had he heard that right? No one had said Wes Western’s name in years. Honestly, seeing his old photo in the front area of Big Ed’s was the first time he’d thought about him in ages. No, it couldn’t be. He heard the mouth next door leave the cubicle. Wes didn’t want to risk a confrontation. He didn’t want to risk his secret getting out. Wes Western didn’t exist anymore. Wes Mitchell stood there and watched
Butt Sharks 15
until the video stopped, and the credits rolled. Another guy took the place of the last mouth and knocked on the wall. Wes didn’t respond.
