The Darker Side of Trey Grey

The Darker Side of

Trey Grey

By Tara Spears

T.O.S.O.L Books

Copyright © 2013 by Tara Spears

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and/or articles.

First printing June 2013

Cover art by Lou Harper

www.louharper.com

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Willie, Anke, Cam, Kim and all the others who read portions of this book
, and encouraged me to continue. I am not sure I ever would have finished without your steadfast support.

A special thanks to those at CC.

And lastly, to my husband for always putting up with me... even when I appear crazy.

_______________________________________

This book is dedicated to all who have suffered the degradation of child abuse.

Remember you are never alone.

_______________________________________

It had been a slow night and I’d sucked down half a pack of smokes waiting for another trick. As I leaned against my lamp post along Pac Ave, I took a long, satisfying drag, drawing smoke into my lungs. I thumbed the ashes to the ground, and glanced up and down the four lane road. Everything was beginning to blur. Traffic, airplanes, noise... all of it. One fucking trick. Maybe it was time to call it. I shook my head then paused.

“Hell-loo... what do we have here?” I muttered, catching the slow crawl of an ivory Cadillac riding the white line of the avenue, trawling. I didn’t move, appearing disinterested, one hand wedged tightly in my front pocket while my smoke rested on my other hipbone.

The car rolled to a stop fifty feet from me and I gave it a sidelong glance, just a flick of my face so the driver could see the goods. I was everyone’s type whether they knew it or not. Once they caught sight of my pretty-boy looks, they usually stopped.

The caddy didn’t disappoint and came cruising forward to halt in front of me. Taking one last draw to the filter, I inhaled then tossed the cigarette to the pavement. I released the toxins through pouted lips as I swaggered to the car. The passenger window came
down with a murmured hum.

I dropped down onto an elbow and leaned into the car, giving the well dressed, if porkish gentleman, my best impish half-smile. His eyes were sloppy and darted from me to the floor, to the windshield then the rear view mirror. First timer. But I had him. His fingers dug into his thigh as stipples of sweat appeared on his upper lip.

“I made a mistake.”
But he hadn’t
. “I... I was looking for someone. Yes, someone else,” he fumbled, his knuckles rounding while he licked his lips. 

“Too bad.” I stood, flipping the top button of my jeans open. “For three I could have made all your fantasies come true.”

I never begged. I never had to. Turning away, I swung my hips and headed back to the light pole I had been holding up.

“Wait...” he called.

I smiled but didn’t turn around.

“What... what does three buy me?”
 

I glanced over my shoulder at him, licked my lips slowly and said, “Me, anyway you want me.”

He nodded, his basset hound neck wobbling.

I pointed discretely to the corner. “Meet me in the second alley.” I strode around the concrete building with my hands shoved into my jeans pockets, fondling the merchandise, and getting it ready to show. “IT” knew his job and stirred to life.

Ten minutes later, and three hundred richer, I headed to my Camaro parked in Paradise’s lot. God, I loved johns like that. Living out a gay fantasy that had been brewing since they got their first woody. Let them slide in and seconds later they’re a quivering mess, crying from shame, and a satisfaction they had longed for far too many years. He’d be back... ones like him always came back.

The black cinderblock building squatted in the shadows and I pushed through the fuchsia door into the dim strip club. I tipped my chin to the bouncer standing guard inside the entrance. Benny wasn’t too bright, but he had big muscle, and an overly sweet affection for anything female. That made him one hell of a bouncer, and well liked by the dancers to boot.
 

“Hey Benny, where’s the boss?” I asked.

“Trey, my man, you do okay tonight?”

I nodded, questing Salvo’s location as I pointing towards the bar on the left, then swung my finger to the right, indicating the office door located at the top of a short staircase.

“Bar.” He gestured towards the polished wood monstrosity that took up half the rear wall of the club.

“Thanks, Benny.” I clapped his beefy shoulder on the way in.

I had barely settled onto a padded stool when a shot of Stoli slid down the bar. I grabbed the glass before it slid past and threw it back. Salvo finished with his customers then headed my way. He snatched the neatly folded twenty bucks from my fingertips before dropping my keys onto the bar.

“Want another?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, as Salvo grabbed the bottle and poured the clear liquid into the glass all the way to the brim. “Thanks for watching kitten.” I always thanked him even though I had been parking her here, and paying him, for four years now. But kitten was the closest thing to a relationship I had, so she was precious to me and worth the expense.

He grinned. “I can’t believe you call that beast of a car
kitten
.” He shook his head.

“When I stroke her just right, she purrs like crazy,” I told him seriously.

“Speaking of, Georgie wants to see you.”

I waved my hand dismissively, not in the mood for Georgie’s drama right now.

“Not tonight. I’ve got classes in the morning. Tell him I’ll catch him Friday.”

“You said the same thing two nights ago.”

“I know I did. It’s still two hours to close and I’m not letting him fuck me in my car.”

“He’ll be upset—”

“Yeah? Well, he’ll get over it. Tell him to get rid of that piece of shit bike and buy a decent car, then we’ll talk.” I frowned and added. “Besides I don’t like risking your business, even after hours.”

“Now that’s touching—”

“Fuck off.”

His eyes perused me as his lips quirked up. I’d known Salvo longer than anyone and I liked to think he was my friend, yet
I would bet my cherry-ass if I ever fucked him over it would be a mistake I would never forget. So I tried to keep things on a low frequency with him. Doing a john in his club always made me nervous, even if it
was
one of his employees and he said he was okay with it. I wasn’t. One slip and he could lose everything. Cops didn’t look too kindly on actual sex in strip clubs.

“Sorry, you’re not my type. Your tits don’t impress me, and your ass is too muscular,” Salvo said as he tossed a bar towel into a plastic crate on the floor.

“I’m everyone’s type once they’ve had me.” I downed the shot of Stoli, placing my hand over the glass when Salvo went to fill it again. “I’m outta here.”

“Back to the other woman?” he asked.

“Something like that.” The other woman being college.

Back in my dorm room at the U.W., I headed for the shower, evicting clothes as I went. Turning the shower on, I climbed in and let the hot spray work on my strung out nerves. After almost seven years turning tricks I still got the shakes at the end of the night. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t eradicate the memories of those first years under Willie from my mind. I worked for no one but myself now. Even so, the horrors were still as vivid as if they had happened yesterday.
 

I grabbed the plastic-bristled brush, scrubbing myself down until my skin rosed and felt raw, soaping up and rinsing off twice in the process. It was a tick I’d had since I was twelve. No matter how much I scrubbed, or how many showers I’d taken since, I never felt entirely clean.

I slammed the Lucite shower handle off, and grabbed the clean towel from the bar. Once I had myself dry, I threw the towel in my normal basket then headed to bed, ragged.

* * * * *

“
No... stop... ouch, it hurts.
” I woke with a start and felt
him
on top of me, pushing into me, and I was sobbing into the pillow, my face pressed there by a large hand fisted in my hair. It took me a full minute to realize I was the one jerking my dick roughly not Willie, and this wasn’t really happening. It was just another nightmare. 

I let go of myself as I rolled onto my back. That left me feeling too exposed and vulnerable. I curled around a pillow on my side
, waiting for the phantom pain to subside and the juddering fear to abate. That was three in as many nights. Not a record, but not good either. Just when I thought I had control again, the devil came a’ calling.

The dream finally sloughed off, allowing me to fall back to sleep.

Dawn slanted through the East window, but that’s not what woke me this time. “IT” was demanding attention. An occupational hazard. I didn’t get off doing tricks. I never had. And because of my past, recreational sex didn’t hold any charm for me. My tool didn’t demand often— every once in a great while— and this morning “IT” was screaming obscenities at me.

A glance at the green digital clock on my nightstand had me throwing myself out of bed. I tucked “IT” against my belly, and grabbed the plastic stool near the bathroom door on my way by.
 

I settled the stool into the corner before retrieving my lube from the rack hanging on the shower head. Sitting on the stool, leaning against the cold tiles,
not wasting a second, I squirted a generous dollop into my hand and went to work. I had forty fuckin’ minutes to get out my door if I wanted to eat this morning. And since I don’t eat before work, I really needed food. My stomach growled angrily at the possible injustice of remaining empty, and as if threatened, “IT” deflated a bit.

“Damn it.” I sighed heavily while I coaxed apologetically. “IT” had a mind all his own. He would find it terribly amusing to refuse satisfaction only to stiffen to painful intensity the second I walked into class, and then remain so all fucking day long. Wandering through the day with an obscenely large lump in my pants wasn’t my idea of a good time.

I had a full load of classes today and wouldn’t have time to come back to my room and pay homage. Another tick I had. I could only shoot off in my shower, and I had to disinfect the thing when I was done. My mind was so twisted, even my own semen was pestiferous, often times making me gag.

Closin
g my eyes, I blanked my mind, concentrating on the sensation of my hand sliding along my length. I felt the large veins begin to pulse, then throb, and my relief was tangible. When my thumb caressed the tip, my breathing quickened with my body. Another minute of rough handling had my leg kicking out as my ass clenched severely.

I aimed towards the drain, coming harder than usual, and the milky fluid hit the far wall. I began to gag as I squeezed my eyes tight to the sight of it sliding down the salmon colored tile.

I was off the stool in seconds, pulling the plant sprayer of bleach mixture out from under the sink. I hosed the shower from top to bottom, making sure I soaked the stool. When I turned to the wall I began to gag again. My teeth ground into my cheek until it bled in order to keep from throwing up. I rinsed the shower down with scalding water, and when I was comfortable it was clean, I adjusted the temp and climbed in.

Standing out of the spray, I soaked my privates with the sprayer and waited a minute, then began the routine of scouring myself.

Running the brush methodically over my skin, I noticed the water ringing the ivory drain was tinged pink.

“Stop... stop... stop,” I told myself and willed my fingers open, letting the brush hit the floor with a
thunk
. I rinsed myself off without even looking at what I had done to my own body. I already knew.

I grabbed a towel from the stack on the small table next to the shower, threw it out over the ivory bathmat then stepped onto it. I dried myself off with another from the stack then threw the blood-speckled towel into the garbage. I swiftly talced my chest and legs to arrest the seepage.

Dressed in dark colors, I picked up my wallet and keys from the tray near the door and headed out with fifteen minutes to spare. 

It wasn’t raining as I dashed across fiftieth to University Coffee, but it was damp
, and the sky was ugly. I took a minute to inhale a blueberry muffin, and suck down my caramel macchiato at one of the small square tables. It all settled in a sticky lump at the bottom of my stomach.

The events of the morning had me sullen and a little raw emotionally. I was getting bad again. I needed a week or two off, and I felt I could manage that if I worked Thursday this week too.

I lit up a smoke as I headed towards my economics class, needing to throw myself into something difficult yet completely normal.