The Darker Side of Trey Grey (21 page)

He hadn’t wanted to do it, but as I rambled, tears streaming down my face, he changed his mind for some reason. I’d thought about it often over the years, and I knew without his kindness that day, my life could have ended up very differently.

“Salvo, my friend, if it works out that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

His dark eyes narrowed mindfully for a moment. “All right then, I’ll cover for you for a few weeks. That’s it though. After that you better tell him, or if he shows here I will.” He slapped the bar again, much lighter this time, and straightened.

“I need at least two weeks.”

He tossed a rag from one hand to the other as he sucked on his teeth then grinned. “I’ll give you three. Starting tonight.”

I smiled back, sliding him kitten’s keys, “Thanks.” I said as I turned and left.

It was cold tonight and I hugged my arms around me, sucking down a smoke as I strode to my corner. Salvo had given me three weeks of protection, and I hoped it would be long enough, but I was doubtful.

I had it all figured out before Justin had walked into my life, and now I had to work out a new plan. Finals were coming up then it would take a few more weeks to secure a paid apprenticeship. Internships had been filtering in, but I needed a paid position, and so far none of them offered a salary for the interim. Lila’s job offer flitted through my head and I let it keep right on going. I wasn’t desperate enough for that.
Yet.

I raised my head, and my attention zeroed in on my lamppost with arrow like precision.

“Damn it, when the hell did he get back, and what’s he think he’s doing on my turf? Little fucker,” I muttered under my breath.

The kid had shown up about a year ago. All five-foot-six of him, and he looked all of twelve. However, the girls and I came to the conclusion he was closer to sixteen, maybe seventeen, and definitely a runaway.

He was unscrupulous and dangerous, and when he disappeared last fall, no one missed him. He would do anything for a buck or a hit, and he was loitering on my corner like he owned it. The little bastard. Thankfully he had always been afraid of me, so evicting him should be easy.

“Hopper, what the fuck are you doing here?” I called to him as I strode across the side road, throwing my smoke to the ground. He leisurely rolled around the post to face me. As I got closer I noticed he was whacked out. Judging from the sores on his hands and face he had been deep for awhile.

And God did he stink. Even upwind I was overwhelmed by the mangled scent of piss, dirty sex, and very old sweat. How could anyone get close enough to fuck him, let alone pay for it. Then again, I don’t take the dirty, desperate, or dangerous, and he does. 

“Ah man, I figured you for gone. I been working this corner for a week now, and not hide or hair of you,” Hopper whined.

“Yeah? Fucking with my clients? I bet you told them I was gone for good didn’t you, you little maggot. I would also bet someone told you to move your sorry ass off here more than once.”

He glanced up at the light as he held on and swung back and forth at the end of his arm. “Mmm... maybe, I don’t remember.” He grinned.

Lying piece of shit. I knew Marie would have tried to evict him. 

“I’m here now and I own this corner. You know that, so get lost,” I said in a sharp tone.

“I’ll blow you for it?”

I scoffed disgusted, and was pretty sure “IT” shrank against me in fear. “I wouldn’t let you touch me if you were the last
thing
on Earth. Now get the fuck out of here before I throw you in front of a truck.” I stepped menacingly towards him, and he jumped back.

“K, no need to get your panties in a bunch.” He turned, giving me the finger over his shoulder as he sauntered down towards Marie’s territory. That was a poor choice on his part. She wouldn’t put up with his cock-n-bull crap. She’d just punch him.

I shuddered as I pulled out a few sani-wipes then proceeded to wipe down my post. How did someone get so disgusting? 

I had just finished cleaning the post, and was about to light a smoke, when a silver-blue crossover screamed around the corner then slammed to a stop. I put my cigarette back in the pack as I walked to the passenger door. I opened it and slid in.

Before I even had the door closed, twitchy grabbed my hand and pushed it against his crotch with a watery, stuttered groan. Damn. These after fight fucks could go one of two ways. Rough as hell or he would break down crying. Knowing him, I braced for some of both.

In a weird twist he banged me against his car standing up, which he’d never done. I figured he had his reasons. He didn’t start with the emotional waterworks until he pulled out, and dashed to the driver’s door. I barely had time to move out of the way before he backed out of the alley so fast, the crossover’s nose swung around almost hitting the chain link fence along the other side.

I cleaned up, buttoned my jeans, and headed back to my corner. It had to have been a fight with his wife. I never understood why people turned to me in times of duplicity. I would think it would only make things worse in the end.

The evening grew ever stranger. Three five-minute BJs in a row, then a lesbian couple with a Volvo wagon, a strap on, and a gay boy fetish. But Jesus, where else could I make eleven hundred in an hour. If all my nights were like this I could walk away before finals.

I was working on my first smoke since twitchy when a maroon mini van shot around the corner, stopping in the shadows a ways down the alley. I watched it while I finished my smoke. The van didn’t move, nor did the driver exit or wave at me.

I dropped my smoke, stepped on it, then headed down. Every once in a while I would get a horny gay boy too nervous to make the first move, and they were usually driving mommy’s car. They didn’t seem to understand I was a sure thing.

Even though I was positive this was that type of situation, I stayed near the fence and moved cautiously towards the driver’s door. The headlights and interior lights were off, but the parking lights were on. The dash lights illuminated the rather husky person huddled over the steering wheel in an unbecoming green glow. For a moment I thought the driver might be sick, or having a heart attack, then she lifted her head and wiped her face. She was crying.

She hadn’t seen me yet, so when I tapped the window she shrieked and jumped. Thank goodness the girl was still wearing her seatbelt or she might have ended up stuck beneath the dashboard on the other side of the van. She calmed down, cracking the window only far enough so we could hear each other.

She was a big girl, and looked to be around eighteen or nineteen. Her face was sweet, and the blush coloring her cheeks only accentuated it. I was glad she had found me rather than Hopper or one of the other boys down the way.

There was a reason Marie and I could pull the big bucks, and she was sitting in a mini van twisting her fingers so hard I was afraid she was going to break them. We had compassion for our tricks. If they needed some time, coaxing, encouraging words, we gave them whatever they required to be comfortable.

“Sweetie, are you here for me?” I asked, offering a kind smile.

She shook her head and her fawn hair fell, veiling her face. “No. I was...” she trailed off as she tucked her hair back behind her ear.

“You changed your mind, and that’s okay. This is a big deal, and you shouldn’t do anything you’re not ready for.”

Her wide eyes turned to me, blinking several times before she spoke. “I’ve been ready for a long time,” she said sounding incensed. She looked at her hands, and untwisted them. “So... you would still... after seeing me?”

I leaned against the van thinking about my next words carefully.

“I see a young lady who is shy, maybe a little scared, that wants to become a woman,” I said, hoping I didn’t offend her.

“I’m not a virgin. I had sex once,” she said quickly. “Um, you’re really cute. I think I’m a little scared you won’t like me.”

I smiled at her. “Sweetie, I already like you because you’re pretty and honest. But I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret tomorrow.”

She blushed and giggled. “You called me pretty.” I nodded at her. “Oh God, I really want to have sex with you. Um, how much do you charge?”

More than she could afford I was sure. I swallowed the naughty laughter trying to escape, and licked my lips, deciding I wanted to make her fantasy come true. I had done a few charity fucks in the past, but it had been a long time since I had felt charitable. I was feeling generous tonight. Maybe this was penance for my treachery.

“How much were you thinking?”

“Um, a friend told me I could get laid for around a hundred and fifty,” she said with her face screwed up as if she was in pain.

Ouch. Her friend was right though. Most of the boys down the way would have done her for that or less.

“A hundred and fifty it is,” I told her, trying not to cringe as I said it.

I wouldn’t feel right sending her off to be screwed like a piece of meat, and that was the best she would get down the Avenue.

“I have a few rules though. No kissing on the lips. I reserve that for my special someone. I’m here to pleasure you, not myself, so don’t get weird when I don’t come. And we do this my way, okay?”

She nodded rapidly, trying not to giggle as she unlocked the doors, and struggled with her seat belt. I walked to the other side, shucking my jacket before opening the side door. Shit, the girl had been planning. The rear seats were removed and a sleeping bag was spread on the carpet. At least I wouldn’t get banged up.

She wanted missionary so she could see me, even though I was sure I needed to do her doggy-style with a reach around in order to make her orgasm. But I relented... for now.

She smelled like a fruit-smoothie everywhere, and I was thankful she took such pride in her hygiene. We started face-to-face, and then I convinced her to let me do things my way. My way worked, even though she was embarrassed over where my thumb ended up.

The girl was a bit of a hellion when she orgasmed. She swore profusely and ground against me, drawing it out as long as she could, before she collapsed and began crying. I stroked her back not minding the extra minutes. Somebody was seriously missing out with this girl.

I had come to the conclusion long ago that most straight men wanted two women. A thin pretty thing to show off in public, and pose gagged in the bedroom where they could look at her while they screwed the big girl’s brains out. Fat girls were a fun fuck, and I didn’t know very many guys who didn’t covet them in private. Out in public was another story all together.

She quit crying, wiping her face with the sleeping bag then became self-conscious and covered herself. I turned away, peeled off the empty condom, and tugged my jeans on. I ran a wipe over “IT” quickly, not wanting to offend her. She had actually been a pretty clean fuck considering her size.

“Thank you for making me feel special,” she said with a sniffle. “I know it was above and beyond.”

I turned and smiled at her. She was a
very
sweet girl. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not special. And don’t ever let anyone use you,” I said as I grabbed my jacket then slipped out the side door. I wasn’t sure why I said that last part, but it seemed the right thing to say to her.

I walked to a dumpster and finished cleaning up, then lit a smoke, waiting until she pulled away before I headed back to my corner.

I was huddled against the lamp post, sucking down another smoke, and trying not to freeze, when a skinny
ZZ Top
wannabe rolled up on a Harley. As I strolled over, I noticed he wasn’t wearing pants under his snug smooth-grain chaps. The guy must be fuckin’ freezing. His jacket barely covered his ass, or his pencil dick which happened to be standing admiringly proud in the cold.

I looked the guy over, not sure what he wanted. He was straight. There was no doubt about it. I had done a lot of open-minded straight guys, but I was getting a strong homophobic vibe from this one.

His eyes took me in. “You’ll do.”

“Do for what?” I asked.

“Don’t get snappy with me you little prick,” he said. I was about to tell him to fuck off when he chuckled and said again, in a much more salacious tone, “Yeah, you’ll definitely do.” 

All right, maybe my first impression had been wrong. “What do you want?” I asked in as seductive a tone as I could muster at that moment.

“Gay boys give the best hand jobs, right?”

That’s all he wanted? I was about to give him my price when he added, “I want you behind me on my bike.”
 

Something about his tone had me asking, “Stationary or moving?”

“Moving. Is that a problem?”

“Well, it puts me in possible danger if we should crash.” I tried to maintain a teasing attitude, but the thought of being splattered all over the road was disconcerting.

“Kid, for a fucking kick you think I’d put my bike in jeopardy?” 

He had a point. The thing was probably worth as much as kitten, maybe more.

“All right, two-fifty and I require you wear a condom.”

He gave me a surprised look. “Whatever— just makes your job harder. Climb on.”

“Cash,” I told him.