Backseat Devil

Tag: Feathers in Houston

Chapter 11 – Bright Blue Sparks

He is laying between Brit and Derrick in a king size bed staring at the sloped popcorn ceiling of her townhouse loft trying to talk out the world in real time.

Your religion sounds like a joke.

His religion does not!  I mean there are some areas I personally I don’t understand.  But look, you have done all this hard work for God and your church over the years… and you wanted to spend this small section of time to find out about yourself.  You are dedicating the rest of your life to working at the Watchtower factories.  It doesn’t sound like it’s in God’s best interest to punish you via your father.

And if he did… time to get a new god.

Brit throws a pillow at Derrick, You’re not helping.

Yes, but he has a point.  And you’re right too.  It’s just… a lot to process.  He goes into surgery tomorrow.

Brit bounces out of bed, Get dressed, boys.   I know exactly what you need.

Don’t say a makeover.

Please… yeah, don’t say a makeover.

We’re going to the zoo.

Four hours of walking around found Brit bounces out of the park with an ice cream in one hand and a stuffed bear in the other looking like the happiest puff of blonde curly hair in the world.  James freed his mind a little bit and was back to making jokes. Even Derrick has left the realms of his normal pouty demeanor to an area that almost resembles goofiness.  As the zoo was mostly empty it felt good to run around like he owned the place and relax among the energy of the wildlife and foliage.  The trio exiting are relaxed, engaging, and more balanced then when they entered.

There is a page that comes in and James talks on the pay phone while the other two make plans for the evening.

I have to over to the hospital.  Dad wants to go over a few things before his surgery tomorrow morning.   

Brit gives him a big hug.  Derrick sandwiches him in.

Keep your chin up.

Thanks, guys.

Let us know if  you need anything.

Will do.

The next two days progress at a pace so slow it seems that each exhalation of the lungs take a full minute to extinguish   One factor he hadn’t counted on is the idea of mortality that looms over a person’s head upon hearing the word “cancer”.  James and his mom didn’t talk through much of this time as his mother becomes an emotional vacuum of sorts in times of trauma so he really isn’t kept informed about the technicalities of the operation.  The surgeon is nice enough to seek out James, and give him updates the morning of the surgery.  He stands with David in the corridor and talks with the doctor about the procedure.  He assured both young men that something like colon cancer was not hereditary, and it is something neither should worry about until they are in their forties.  It is good to have David by his side as he is able to ask questions when James cannot.

When his father comes out of surgery he has the pleasure of hearing something along the lines of “I think we got all of it.”

Relief.

Not just relief, but movement, freedom to progress past the stagnate state of staring at blurs flying by, unremembered conversations and dump trucks filled with sympathy and well wishes piling up on top of him until he was buried alive with the weight of nicety and compassion.  It was comforting to an extent and it is completely understandable why his mother has a sort of addiction to this level of sentimentality, but he finds it uncomfortable and wanted to focus more on the movement of getting past this.  The influx of human emotions were neither helpful nor harmful as James was void of emotions until there is resolution, so the padded pillows of cards, flowers, and covered dishes are just reminders of how helpless he really was against the situation.  And with one sentence from the doctor, the air in the room begins to flow and he finally feels his own heart beat.

Upon seeing his father awake and cracking jokes, the rest of the internal organs made their appearance in full volume.

Geez, I’m starving.

You haven’t eaten much in two days.

I know.  It’s amazing I was able to cum.

What?

Nothing.  We have a ton of food at the house.

Soggy green bean salad and tuna casserole?  No thanks, scoffs David.

You know I have to eat all of that.

That’s because you’re nice.  I’m not.  So let’s get some real food.  My treat.

You mean your dad’s treat.

Whatever.  

“Real food” to David is the pecan-crusted pork chop at America’s Restaurant to which James answers with the duck tortellini in basil sauce.  A plate of grilled vegetables and potato-battered calamari is split between them.  It feels like the first meal of his lifetime as they eat in silence.  Riding home means new consumed energy is hard at work constructing a better, more peaceful him.

After a week of his father’s recovery he saw something he had never seen before in anyone with such supernatural potency.  Steve was beaming with heartfelt appreciation for everything and everyone he came in contact with.  His smile can be felt from the other side of the construction site and with each “congratulations” and “welcome back” he would return with talking to each person individually with grinning gratitude.

Take life by the horns.

Yes sir.

Again this is good encouragement that James needed at the time but with adverse application.  A few weeks later he finds himself at the front desk of Feathers once again.  Enter a tall, thin man in his mid-forties with dark blonde and slight grey messy hair escorted by a young James-height swimmer-built kid with bright blue eyes, a gorgeous smile, and light blonde hair under a blue tartan Scottish cap.

Hello there.  My name is Jack and this is my friend… for today, umm…

Ollie.

Yes!  Ollie.  This facility, it’s just like a brothel or what?

James tries to contain his annoyance.  This is often a question asked a little later in the conversation not right away, and not with such blatant lack of decorum about the matter even if it was just a preventative measure to keep the cops from busting the place.  Added to the tension was the fact that he really wanted to rip the clothes off Ollie right then, and there and it is slowly turning into animosity that this person… this… Jack… would be fucking Ollie sometime later in the day and he would not.

(Professionally) No.  This is a private modeling and fetish facility where you can get a hot oil back rub or private dance with any of our models.  We have a variety of theme rooms.  You pick a model and a…

I just want to get fucked.

Anything you want you will need to discuss with the model you choose.  We have the best dungeon in Houston.  I’m sure there are more than a few things that can make it up your ass if you were looking for that.  But we are not intending…

But, I mean, “private modeling” is ambiguous at best and you have condoms on the desk.  There has to be someone who can fuck me.

Our point is to offer a safe place for people to explore fetishes.

What if my fetish is to be fucked in the best dungeon in Houston?

James was almost laughing at this point.  If this was a cop, he was good.  I’m not going to discuss sex with you here because we are not selling sex, as prostitution is illegal in the state of Texas.  So if you are going to insist on this particular subject I am forced to respond with “try an escort.”

Jack smiles at the maneuver.  What about you?  Do you escort?

(Pause.)

One night out at the Rich’s an older muscle guy had approached James and asked him to dance.  He said ‘no’ lying by saying he was “working” and waiting for a client.  The man replied by saying he didn’t need to pay for it, but still patted James on the ass as he walked away.  James thought he was in the clear.  As the night went on and the non-existent client failed to show up, the man returned, and this time he was more persistent, so much so… he was willing to pay.  James had no choice but to maintain the lie.  Everyone at Feathers and the Gold Room has clients on the side… it is where the real money was at.

He felt his pager in his pocket as he mulls over the question Jack asked.  No, I do not.

Jack thinks for a second.  Ollie is staring at James with the biggest smile.  Any hardened exasperation somewhat melted into timid nervousness.  This of course, is noticed by Jack.

Okay, here’s the deal.  It’s my birthday today and I’m having a party over at my place all night and I want you to be there.  I know you don’t want to talk sex because of legality reasons, but I am inviting you to my home and I want you to bring someone with a big dick.  I will pay them $100.00 per inch.  You will get $200.00 for every person you bring me.

He takes out a business card holder and removes a card.  On the reverse he writes down “$100.00/inch” and his cell number sliding it through the reception slot.  Okay?  That is for you.  Ollie will be there and he is helping out with party supplies and such, all of which I will share with you.

Billy walks into the reception as Jack shimmers with delight.  Who is this?

This is Billy.  If you would like to see more of Billy, it will be a $40.00 membership fee good for six months, plus a $40.00 entrance fee for today.  That goes for both of you.  Plus whatever you would like to spend on yourself with the model.

You mean a tip?

Oh, for Christ’s sake man!  We just went through this with sex, don’t make me dance around the subject of tips.  

(Laughing) Okay, okay.  I get it.  I want him in the dungeon.  He pulls out a wad of cash and pulls out $80.00 and hands it through the reception slot.  Entrance for one, please.  

James puts the money in the register and pulls out the application fee.  I need you to fill this out.

I don’t have time for this.  Jack takes out his driver’s license and hands it to Ollie.  Fill this out, please.

Okay.

Wait, I need to have the person…

Look.  It’s my birthday, and I’m horny.  I’m going to pay you a lot of money for a lot of dick.  So I think  you can let me grant me this one thing and let my friend here, fill out the paperwork.

Private time with Ollie?  Yes, please.  He buzzes the horny man in and Billy takes off with him down the hall.

You are a strapping man.  How big are you exactly??

Wouldn’t you rather have James? He’s better in the dungeon than…

James is for later.  (Fading.) Right now I want you.

Ollie fills out the paperwork carefully, making sure his handwriting is precise and accurate, which was difficult because he was looking at James and smiling most of the time.

Can you come out here and talk or no?

The door is on a buzzer system, if I go out there, I’m locked out.

Oh.  Too bad.

I can stand at the door though.  

Seeing Ollie’s reaction was something that froze James.  He was safely behind glass, distant, away from whatever he was desiring, but once the door opened he, his energy, his eyes were going to be live and in person in front of him.  It made him nervous to the point where he had to be reminded of what he was doing.

So?

Oh yeah.  Sorry.

He takes off around the corner and the opens the door with trepidation.  Ollie moves in close.  James can smell his Irish Spring… a scent that normally sent him into hives is now something tickling the nose playfully.

Are you going to come over to Jack’s tonight?

I don’t know.  Would you notice if I wasn’t there?

Ollie moves in closer.  Yeah.

James couldn’t focus.  He was smiling.  I… well… 

Am I making you uncomfortable?

Yes… NO!  I mean… I’m nervous.

I’m sorry.  Ollie backs up a little to give James room to breathe.  It worked.

This was the first time where he understood the phrase “when sparks fly”.  He had been noticing intense energies from people who were focused on him, who instantly fell in love or wanted to save him from all… this.  Now, it’s different and he was feeling the same attraction toward someone else and the combination of the two energies made it difficult to inhale at first.  Once he had a little space to breathe he was able to regain composure.

It’s okay.  It’s just that… when you’re close, all I want to do is kiss you.

Ollie’s square jawline transforms into one round grin.  He moves back in closer.  I have no problem with that. 

Audacity, in all it’s forms, is something James is trying to become a master of, but it’s easier when one’s emotions are kept out of the line of fire.  This is completely different.  His heart is pounding with the force of a jackhammer while his dick was throbbing uncontrollably.  He forgets everything he ever knew about the technicalities of kissing – all charts, graphs, instructions, practice sessions and techniques disappeared from reach at this pivotal moment when everything else seemed like a rehearsal for this one performance.  He wants to impress, as he has spent his life impressing people and going above and beyond.  He wants to impress, as he knows this guy has had a lot of sex and somehow he has to compare with history.  He wants to impress so these blue eyes will come back for more.  He wants to impress… but he forgets how.

James has spent his entire life void of this uncomfortable giddiness.  He has already come to the conclusion that it was a myth or at the very least something homosexuals do not have the capacity of knowing.  How does one come face to face with a feeling they didn’t know exists and yet still… function?  He was frozen staring at the scene afraid to attack it with force for fear it may disappear at any moment.  It was blowing up his brain uncontrollably and yet he didn’t give a flying fuck.  He tried to be the top guy in control once more, and with his right hand placed behind Ollie’s head, he pulls him in and kisses him with a softness that surprised both guys standing in the doorway.  He tasted like metal and cigarettes mixed with a soft gummy tongue that took the breath right out from the lungs and replaced it with warm coy saliva.

Ollie leans in and James backs up against the door frame.  As soon as their raging hard-ons touched, James knew he was good to go, and once the trigger is let loose, the soft passionate embrace turned into an animistic cannibalization of this complete stranger by pushing him against the door itself and penning him with a force that seemed to vibrate throughout the building as he held on to the door with one hand and the guy’s head with the other.  James did not know where this was coming from but it was hot, and he felt there would be little control left if this went too far.

He pauses for a moment… and goes back to the soft passionate kissing before releasing Ollie from his grip, his lips, and his eyes.

Whereas James is a little frightened by this force he tries not to show it as Ollie seems very much in control, and smiles with a slight smug glad to see you had that in  you sense of satisfaction.   This kid did not seem as overwhelmed by the lengthy exchange, and this worried him, I am no where near this guy’s league.  He had been experimenting with the boundaries of people both mentally and physically but never really considered testing his own and this… force was something overpowering and exciting.  This guy had boundaries that made it feel as if James was throwing a Nerf ball on the field of the Astrodome… and this of course, makes him a challenge.

He puts their heads together and stare into each other’s eyes.

Dude, that was hot.

Thanks.

What’s your name?

James.

I really want  you to come tonight, James.

Okay, he says like a lost puppy.

They kiss some more, slower, almost lip lovemaking in the music of appreciation.  The more they grind the more erect he becomes.  He didn’t even know this level of erection was possible.  How have I been missing out on this for so long?  WHY have I been missing out on this for so long?

Time had faded into oblivion and is only resurrected due to a noise that comes from the dungeon.  I’m pretty sure that’s Billy’s orgasm. 

Ollie snapped to attention.  The mesmerizing exchange halted and a shift in the room occurred.  Neither person was sure if they were doing something wrong, but there was a realization that they just might be.  Jack was apparently paying Ollie for the day and night so this could be a douche move on James’s part.  The guys kiss each other once more and go to their respective stations, one behind the reception desk and the other on the lobby side of the window.

Well that was well worth it.  You will get another thousand if you come to my party tonight.

The  door to the lobby swings open and Jack looks well stuffed.

Hope you had a good time.

I did, and thank you.  This, is for you.  He takes out the now reduced wad of cash and extracts two $100.00 bills and hands it through the window.  Will I be seeing you this evening?

He’ll be there.  (Wink.)

I MAY show up.  (Smiling at Ollie.)  Where is this place?

I will draw you a map.  Ollie, take my phone and call your guy for the… stuff.  

Ollie takes the phone and dials as he walks to the opposite corner of the lobby.  Jack draws a map and gives verbal directions James doesn’t hear.  The guys leave.  Billy has been standing behind James without his noticing.

What was that all about?

His party tonight.  I don’t know, you going?

No.

How did you get a thousand dollars when you’re nine inches?

I was talking about the exchange between you and his guy friend, escort, boy, whatever.

Billy, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

You could see those sparks from space.

Really?  

James, don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes you’re the dumbest smart guy I know.

(Laughing.)  I know, I know.  This is the first time I’m letting stuff… I don’t know… emotions just… get some exercise.

 It’s adorable, actually.  Good to know you’re human.

Did you just call me “adorable”?

Shut it.  So you going to see him again?

Yep.  I guess I’m going to a party tonight.

James P. Perez © 2013

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Chapter 9 – Cancer

He enters the darkened room to the man stripped naked and positioned on the leather kneeling pad with his head lowered, as instructed. He walks over to the wiry-haired balding aging man with two restraints in one hand and puts one on each of the man’s wrists, strapping them tight as was demonstrated to him just hours earlier. Taught from childhood to always be polite, it was something that came as a second nature. Even in this facility it is expected one show some semblance of courteousness.

Are you ready for this?

Are… are you asking me?

James thought to himself, fuck… he’s already in character.  Butch it up.

(Forcefully slow) Yes… I am… asking.

(Giddy) Yes, Yes sir.

James tries his best not to burst into laughter. It is time to embrace the role. He puts on Nine Inch Nails mix on the CD player to try to get into the mood and bring some depth to his voice as his tone is naturally at a level that is often mistaken as female.  He thinks, Let’s test what this man is into, shall we? It seems that years of Jehovah’s Witness training and family relocations are starting to pay their due rewards at $150.00 per thirty minutes sessions.  With such, there is almost a comical level of performance anxiety.

(Loudly) Why are you smirking?

Sorry sir.

You disgust me.  Get your ass over to the cross.

The man obliged while sporting the biggest erection.

Ok, James thought, he likes humiliation. Still, there’s, like, 50 different kinds of humiliations.  Focus.

He grabs the back of the man’s long hair and pushes it against the wood of the Saint Andrew’s cross.  He saw the man’s eyes roll back in his head mouth the world “yes”.  James stations himself in back of the man where he cannot be seen and mouths the words, “oh my god” to no one in particular.  He tries to regain focus.

(With anger) Stop smiling!

Yes sir.  Sorry sir.

The man’s penis is rubbing against one of the beams and is precumming on the wood.  James uses the horse riding crop to smack his dick, resulting in wide eyes and shock, following with warmth in excitement and pleasure.  This is something the young Witness had never seen before – and the energy vibrating off the man was thick and dense with a peaceful serenity, the exact opposite reaction one would think a tied up man being whipped would be non-verbally expressing.  Still, this man was intensely aroused and wanting to make sure this went the way he wanted, Master decided to close one door… at least for this particular man.

(Smacking his dick again)  You will NOT be shooting your load in front of me.  Is that clear?

(Excited more) Yes sir.

In fact, your penis is so disgusting I can’t even LOOK at it.

(Precumming more) Sorry sir.

James walks away amazed at this.  This is kinda fun.  In some ways he always wanted to get back at older men ever since his molester… this seemed like a perfect solution.  Putting down the riding crop and picking up the teasing paddle he wonders how this marvelous circumstance hadn’t been tapped before.  There was nothing about this that wasn’t fantastic.  However, he couldn’t get over the calming relief the man was emanating  from his core.  What the hell happened in this man’s life to cause him to need such force to gain peaceful sexual arousal?  James wasn’t turned on, but in some ways he was… mainly at the novelty of the situation.  He puts that out of his head for the moment, Focus.  He also picks up the club.  My penis isn’t getting anywhere near this guy, but for the kind of money he’s paying I might as well tease him with something.  The man seems to get off on not getting any, so the Master is going to accommodate.  After all, he had been taught to be polite from childhood.

Half and hour later, James is staring at a blush-red, slightly warped ass under a scarred back and above throbbing thighs.  Oops.  Maybe I went a little hard.  It didn’t matter.  Detaching the man and taking off his restraints reveled the largest eyes he had seen on anyone.  He was still in mask and had to keep in character until the slave exited… So again, he resisted to urge to burst into laughter with a child-like snarl.  He took the man’s underwear from the floor and shoved it in his shocked-open mouth.

You’re not wearing these home.

The man nods in obedience.

Get dressed.  Now.  Get out out of my sight.

The man puts on his clothes, still with a large erection, hands shaking out of excitement.  Master resists the impulse to give the man a hug and tell him it will all be okay… but it seems a little late in his psychological development to have any real benefit on his life, Plus it will probably send mixed messages as I am still in a mask.  

It takes seconds before a wet spot develops in his jeans.

And you are going to walk in front of all those people with your fucking wet jeans… because that’s how pathetic you are.  GO!

The man again nods quickly and James can tell he wants to smile, but restrains himself.  He left out the door and hurried down the hall.

Clean up was minimal and James was walking down the hall to the reception room to find Ozzy, Brittany, Sterling, and Billy sitting in fearful astonished silence and all eyes were almost in tears as they gazed blankly at the person who dominated the audio atmosphere of the entire building for over thirty minutes.

Well, he was a sweetheart. 

No one knows how to respond.  Ozzy finally breaks the stillness with I can venture to say that was a satisfied customer.  He left with the biggest smile and an even bigger boner.  

Dude…

The sound… was…

Everywhere.

We thought… we…

(Pause.)

We thought we needed to call an ambulance.

He beamed from ear to ear.  It’s not often one can strike fear in the hearts of a diverse group of miscreants.  He decided to ride the wave.  I worked up an appetite.  Who  wants to buy me dinner?

Brittany was the first to chime in, That shit isn’t going to work on me.  I’m still pretty sure I can take you.

Billy was next.  I will buy you whatever you want just as long as I don’t have to hear those sounds… ever again.

House of Pies it is.

Billy took him out to eat and it is there he first meets a local mini-celebrity Chinese drag queen of her own making named China Doll who had taken a liking to James while her performing onstage at Rich’s, but their first meeting was the evening James happens to be downing a full meal while sitting across from a still audio-traumatized Billy.

You beat people? At that little pink place? Oh girl!

It is horrible.  Billy  is still traumatized.

It pays the bills.

You don’t have any bills! You live with your parents!

Wait. Girl. You telling me you beat people in a dungeon… and live at home with parents?

Plus…

(To Billy.) Don’t. (To China Doll.) Yes. And you should send whoever that… Hindenberg was in your opening act last night over to my dungeon so I can beat some rhythm into her.

Oh, GURL! You bad!

Just trying to help.

Try all you want, that poor bitch was dropped on her head one too many times.

(Laughter.)

James’s chivalry requires his rising upon the entrance and exit of a lady… but the air kisses are something new.

It would be two days before he hears the final verdict from the real master himself.  It came in a voice message.  What the hell did you do to him?  He’s totally in love with you, now.  Anyway, good job.  If you want, there will be more to come.  Or… not come, I guess… in Ken’s case.  He told me about that and somehow… it turned him on more.  But, good job.  Glad to have someone at that place I can use and trust.

James puts away the phone very satisfied with himself.  After the evening he and Derrick drive over to the Gold Room to meet up with Brittany as Derrick wanted to go out after she was finished with her work at the mother club.  Initially James agreed, but on the way he remembers work he has to do on a Kingdom Hall.  Shit, I need a pocket calender.

Entering the Gold Room is somewhat of a rap video in real time.  They didn’t have the same protective reception set-up as Feathers – they only had a freestanding desk in the waiting room and open door from the lobby.  All the girls at the ‘private lingerie modeling’ facility knew of the other business venture, but only two had actually been to Feathers, so a visit from workers at the ‘boy’s club’ was always met with a sense  of wonderment and accommodation, especially when it came to the story of James.

Not only was it captivating to the women who worked there, but the customers as well, some of them long-time patrons who had never seen other non-paying males get so much attention from the ladies.  This particular night there are three men waiting in the lobby as the boys walked in, and throw smiles at Kendra, the brunet looks stunning.  James gives her a kiss on the cheek followed by Your breasts look amazing  extracting a blush and chortle while shaking her head and looks back at the stunned men sitting in a row of office chairs confused about what they just saw.

The theme rooms lined the hallway on the right while the left side opens up to a lounge area in two parts, the leather couches and televisions playing ESPN near the front, and a pool table next to a wet bar serving only mixers in the middle with rest rooms and offices beyond.

Can I get you boys anything to drink?

I’m fine, Derrick said, holding his mandatory bottle of water.  Then he thinks for a second.  He’s a 19 year old, “bisexual” in a room filled with gorgeous half naked women with tits pushed to the chin being offered free alcohol from a bottle some customer brought in.  Is there whisky?

I know there’s at least one bottle.

I’ll take a whisky and coke.  (To James)  Why not?

Anything for you?  Maybe take you to the dungeon and fuck the gay out of you?

I wouldn’t fuck with James and the dungeon.

I heard.

James is startled at how turned on Tiffany is by him.  It wasn’t that he was more attractive than Derrick, he wasn’t… it was that he was an untouchable challenge with a cute, innocent look about him that made it impossible to resist the urge to dirty him.  Now with word of the dungeon scenario spreading, there is now a combination of confusion and eroticism that seems to mystify everyone in the room, he looks like an angel, but we heard he’s as dirty as all of us.

James smiles with his best David impression, I’ll just take water.

Tiffany retreats with an obvious display of cunning disappointment.  Behind the scenes, a business like this is a running lesson of the insecurity of women.  Each one has to compete with the other in order to be chosen for a session, so each one makes themselves look desirable based off what they think men want.  He guesses maybe this is information they were told by guys over the years.  It’s an enigma that covers over the profound truth of the matter:  All these women are fucking gorgeous and then they ruin it with layers of Tammy Faye make-up and combustible hair towered in ways that makes one question the structural integrity of the fiber and follicles rather than noticing the eyes of the beautiful woman underneath.

Or so it would seem.  What do I know?  I’m gay.

Hey, the pool table’s open.

The two boys played pool while waiting.  The deception that is being presented doesn’t stop with the girls’ presentation.  Whatever fantasy they are presenting, the reality is that the girls are the most powerful people in control… at all times.  Each room has a hidden panic button and is video taped.  The panic button alerts a rather large bouncer who remains hidden away so as to give and air of innocence, but he’s there… and he’s fucking huge.  Only three or four guys are allowed in the lounge at one time.  These girls had done it all and seen it all, and they are not going to take any shit from any business man with a gold card.

Brittany was finished with her client and bounced up kissing both boys on the lips, adding hello, daddy in James’s ear while patting him on the ass.  This does not go unnoticed by Tiffany.

Why does she get to fondle you?

Here, if it will make you feel better, I have this for you.

James reaches into his right front jeans pocket and pulls out a baggie of coke.  With his left hand he cups her right breast from below and massages it gently while slyly sliding the baggie into the bra from the top.

Is that what I think  it is?

Yes.

You’re forgiven.  She kisses him on the cheek and scurries off then turns around.  Are you sure you don’t…

No.  It’s yours.  Enjoy.

Thank you!  She continues off to the bathroom almost whiskfully.

Brit is annoyed.  You know this is a drug free work environment.

He gestures with his hand toward Derrick.  And yet you are serving alcohol to minors.

Touche.

Where are you getting all these free drugs?

Everywhere.  People leave them behind in the room, usually in matchbooks with phone numbers.  I don’t know.  Just all over.

They are giving you coke so you will call them.  If you’re not going to do the drugs, you should at least give it back.

Really?  

You could be selling it, you know.

As of now, they are going in the toilet.  So at least this way it goes to good use.

You are making these girls impossibly addicted to you.

It’s great, isn’t it?

You wanna go out when you’re done?

Sure!

I can’t.  I have a whole set of redlines I have to draft.  Plus, I’ve been getting in pretty late, it would be nice to get a decent night’s sleep.

Pussy.

Okay, but leave Saturday open.  We’ll do something.

Sure thing.

He leaves through a barrage of lifted and separated tits and a rainbow of red lipstick kisses and drives into the night back to Parrot Avenue, Rosenberg.

The next morning he is heading into the bathroom when he sees his mom exiting the master bedroom followed closely by his father.

Morning.

Hey, your momma is taking me to the hospital.  

What’s wrong?

Oh nothing.  I just saw something a little strange in the toilet this morning.  It’s probably nothing.  Just wanna get it checked out, that’s all.

Okay, well… keep me posted.

Hurry Steve.

Don’t forget about Trish’s party.

That’s today?

Yep.

Steve points his finger to the air at head height and gives a slight shake of the head with a smile.  Then we’ll be there.

Hurry, Steve.

I’m coming, Blanca!  Just a minute.  Steve turns back at James and gives him another smile and a wink before heading into the living room.  Get to work.  

Dad, keep me posted.

Of course, son.

Five hours later James is sitting on a wooden park bench at the back of Trish’s house with David, Amber, and the twins.

This party sucks.

Katy, look.  Kristy points to David and James wearing similar blue polo shirts.

I know.

James receives a call on his pager and asks to use the house phone.  He listens to his mother’s words intently.

He hangs up the phone.

He walks back to the bench.

He sits down.

He gives a slight lean to the right so his shoulder rests with weight on David’s shoulder.

My dad has been admitted to Memorial Herman Hospital.  They think he has a tumor in his large intestines.

James P. Perez © 2013

Chapter 8 – Master Lolita

This is the rack, I built it all by hand.  It’s made so you have to crank three times as much as it pulls apart and that clicking sound is more for audio effect, so don’t grease the mechanism… it’s suppose to be that loud.  I haven’t finished it so for now only use it with the person facing up.  Until I add more bracing, don’t use it for sexual situations… it cannot hold two people.  And try to keep the one person under three-hundred pounds.

This is the Saint Andrew’s cross.  It is very stable, you can hang a person off of each beam and it still won’t move.  You notice I used the same hooks that I have at the rack, so once you get a slave into the restraints you can move them from station to station without a problem.  With this, you can face the slave however you see fit although back toward you builds greater anticipation faster in a shorter amount of time.

The whipping post is just as it sounds.  I don’t have any restraint hooks on it, but there are these attached to the wall here… and here.  I will go through the whips in a second.

The stockade is on a raised platform and lower so the slave has to hunch over, but their ass is still at a good striking height.  There is no lock on it, but it doesn’t matter, the top is heavy and if the slave has restraints on their wrists they cannot pull them out.

The spider web isn’t tied down.  It’s more for feel… nylon rope against the skin type thing, very sensual.

Different is the chain link fence.  It looks weak and typical, which is the point.  But it’s tied a lot stronger than it looks.  It’s away from the wall so you can tie the slave on that side there, and hoist from the bottom.  The pully and wrench are tested for six-hundred pounds, so don’t worry.  

Over here we have whips and butt plugs.  Let’s start with the pewter and work our way across.  Please be mindful not to disrupt the order…

James tries to not look like a cat caught on the highway.  This is a lot of information for him to take in and rapid-fire format is not necessarily the best way for memory to harbor anchors.  James tried to use visual memorization to keep track, and the slave in his mind was already crushed under the weight of leather and pewter before making it half-way through the room.

Cattail whips are all in the wrist.  Don’t do a simple thrust… pop your wrist at the end…

This was not the day he had planned.

James, wake up, dear.  I don’t want you to be late for your meeting.

Yes, mom.  I’m awake.  What’s for breakfast?

What would  you like?

French toast, eggs… scrambled.  A little cheese on top.

You got in very late last night.

I know, I’m sorry.  I just had a lot to do.

I’m taking these to the laundry.  And why do they smell like smoke?  Are you smoking?

James was now fully awake and sitting up calmly.

Don’t worry about the clothes.  I will take them with some other things.  I have to separate.

You?  Doing your own laundry?  It’s good to hear you’re being responsible.

And I’m sorry about the smoke smell.  Everyone at work smokes in the break room, it just comes with the job.  

Who needs computer help in the middle of the night?

It’s Houston, mom.  People get off work at all hours, you know.

Well I don’t like it.  And you better get everyone at work to quit smoking.

I will try.

Well hurry up, mister.  Breakfast will be ready in 30.

Thanks, mom.

As soon as the door is closed and he hears commotion in the kitchen he retrieves his jeans from the floor.  The contents of the pockets replays the early morning hours:   Two baggies of white presumably cocaine, $200.00 in cash, two matchbooks with phone numbers written on them, and what seems to be a corner of a cigarette pack with a third phone number. One of the numbers was the cute raver kid he fucked in the parking lot of Rich’s, but he had no clue which one.  I have got to stop going out with those crazy girls after work.

He heads into the bathroom and starts the shower.  Throwing the phone numbers and bags of coke in the toilet.  I feel someday this is going to be a painful memory.  

After breakfast he drives into the office and prepares for a design meeting for next Kingdom Hall to be ‘quick-built’ in Caldwell, Texas.  He had spent the previous day making the necessary changes to the package the elders in Caldwell had chosen and personalized the information to make it site-specific.  Several sets of 11×17 prints had been made but yet to be bound.  Preliminary financial ledgers will be coming with the committee members when they arrive.

James is starting the binding process when Brother Sherwood enters.

Here you go, James.  And we have made a small change to the restroom area.  It’s not much.  Is it possible to get that reprinted before the meeting or no?

Consider it done.

Brother Sherwood was a tall, older brother with a soft ‘gentle-giant’ quality about him set against the kind bright eyes of a steady demeanor.  He may seem ‘soft’ in ways but somehow powerful enough to be a pleasant grounding force in any room he entered.  For such, there wasn’t much James wouldn’t do for him, so a small drafting change and replacing two sheets in a dozen sets in under an hour seems as inconvenient as low mumbling background noise.

James takes apart the binding strips of the sets he started and slides in his knee chair to the drafting station to make the changes.  The brothers are beginning to arrive, he hears.

Print.  Print.

Copy.

Double check.

He removes the old sheets from each set just as Amber walks into the door.  This looks a mess.

Great!  I need an assistant.  

You don’t have to be manic.  They will wait on  you.

I know, I just don’t want them waiting on me.

The two finished the packages and delivered to the conference with minutes to spare, meaning he had to go for the extra dramatic flair of delivering each set to each elder personally while greeting them.  Brother Sherwood always noticed the extra effort.  It was something James was honestly very appreciative of.

Thank you, James.  I don’t know what we’d do without you.

He smiles and bows a slight you’re welcome/no problem in the brother’s direction before exiting the conference room and subjecting Amber to the torturous OCD-laden operation of cleaning up the office they (he) had just jumbled.

Four hours and a change in wardrobe later he enters Feathers with Billy in tow after the two had dinner together outside on the lawn at Rice University.  Ozzy and Sterling are sitting behind the desk and the boys are buzzed in.

Ozzy approaches the duo in the hallway.

We have a problem.

You’re hair looks fine, James blurts out.

Hush you.  Master Don has an appointment for this evening and he can’t make it due to an emergency at work.  Real work.

I’m still not understanding the “we” part of the problem.  

Just have Don cancel.

He is the master after all.

“Master Don commands you to reschedule…”

“… Or you’ll get a beating.”

“… Or you… won’t… get a beating.”

I’m not sure how that works.

I’m not either.

Ollie waits until the two are finished.  I’m going to slap both of you. 

It is explained that this was a once-a-month event for the client while he is in town.  Master Don is not a full time Master, but rather a manager at a large retail store up 290.  Master will be coming by in 30 minutes to explain to someone how the dungeon operates and (Master’s main concern) how it all gets cleaned.

I’ll do it!  Brittney appears from break room and kisses James on the mouth.  Sorry, just had a sandwich.

Tastes so much better than before.  (To Billy) The other day she ate out a girl… to orgasm… and then kissed me on the mouth.

Billy is nervous around Brittney as a norm, but this information has him motionless as he stares at her eyes for the first time since they met.

You mean you…

I’m bisexual, yes.

Billy is almost frozen with joy, and says quietly, I would love to eat out a woman with you, someday.

I’m certain that can be arranged.  (Back to the conversation) So what are we doing with the dungeon guy?  I love spankin’ a little ass.

Ozzy is not longer paying attention.  He is stuck on what James said and is now green in color, obvious even in a low-lighting and pink walls.  His expression is stuck in mid-gag with eyes fixed off into unknown space.

You need to go get some water, I will fill her in.

As everyone files into the reception area they notice Sterling’s reaction to the conversation wasn’t much better than Ozzy’s.

Do you need some water as well?

(Half-laugh) I’ll be fine, just don’t look at me.  

It is explained to Brittney what the situation was with the dungeon rental and how the combination of her lack of penis and over compensating (albeit lovely) breasts would prevent her from adding solution to this particular problem.  Billy doesn’t want to confuse his sexuality any more than what he’s already toiling with.  Ozzy doesn’t even like passing the room and insists the door remains closed so as to avoid visual offense while entering the break room.

Sterling finally broke his silence.  Look, I haven’t done shit like that since Carter left office.  James, you should do it.  You’re the one wanting to learn about all this.  

What better way than from the master himself?

Plus I think you’ll look cute in leather.

No.

Broaden your horizons!

You will make twice as much in tips.

And it’s only for 30 minutes.

Oh my god. THIS is the peer pressure they always talked about in school.  How am I getting this after I graduate?

Encouraged by his giggling everyone begins to chime in at the same time, Do it James/You know you want to/All the cool kids are doing it/The first step is always the hardest.

Look, Ozzy finally said with finality, it’s your decision… but I think you will find it a lot more educational then sexual because that is just the way your mind works.

And, Brittney had to add, you’re not going to be part of the gang unless you beat some old man ass.

Both, are strong arguments.

Master Don enters with dark hair and a dark mustache, initially unassuming but upon standing still garners a rather inelastic energy without being overbearing or obvious.

So who’s our guy?

All heads pointed in the direction of the glass slowly turn toward James.

That would be me.  

Good.  Let’s get started.  As he is buzzed in he fishes out a small leather mask from his pocket.  Here, you’re definitely going to need this.

Why?

Because you look like you’re fucking twelve.

James P. Perez © 2013

Chapter 6 – Tickle Me Pink

He had circled the block three times and is sitting in the parking lot of a dark pink building with his hands seemingly glued to the steering wheel.  There was a weeks worth of phone calls, downloaded videos, online stories, and medical chart diagrams laying out the inner workings of the lower gastrointestinal system of the male anatomy.  He had incidental sex a few times in the past year, usually from the Galleria in totally innocent situations.

No wonder the obscene phone caller came from the Galleria.  These people are wanting sex all the time.

After each incident James would run home and analyze everything like a football play book.  He would go minute by minute in furious scrutiny trying to understand the physical aspects as well as the mentality of those using intentional online “looking for now” rushness or the incidental mid-shopping “I wouldn’t mind some of the sex this afternoon, let me just purchase these jeans, grab a latte and… are we going to your place or mine?”

Who has a life so leisure that they can just haphazardly reassign an hour of the day for spontaneous sex and coffee?

He does, apparently while trying to mind his own business shopping for clothes.  But for what he is trying to achieve, he’d rather be a little more scheduled than random.  Being a perfect child meant his life is compartmentalized into equitable groupings so as to accommodate everyone’s expectations adequately, and then to exceed them with minimal effort.  He is much more comfortable with the idea of working at a place where anything of a sexual-type nature is in a rhadamanthine setting in the reserved rooms of a fetish facility recently converted from a dentist office.

The old large intricately carved wood panel door with a horizontal spiral handle is less of an issue since the front of the establishment faced Westheimer Road, meaning someone is going to see me, move your fucking ass inside.  Entering the Tickle Me Pink box of a waiting room meant sanctuary… a sanctuary with an overstuffed love seat, a wood occasional chair, fake banana tree, a pepper of small tables salted with magazines, a hidden camera bubble, and a receptionist sliding glass window with a ledge.  Behind the window sat Ozzy.

Hello.  Welcome to Feathers.  How can I help you?

(Cast of Characters.)

Ozzy: A 26-year-old six-foot tall slightly goth thin-frame obviously out guy with medium length brown hair sometimes combed close to the head and sometimes slightly awry, but always with a bleached streak of bangs running across his face and behind his ear.   He is a costume designer wearing various hand-constructed clothes and unique alterations to store bought apparel accompanied with deconstructed accessories.  His smile is as captivating as his poise.  Even the way he eats his sandwich is in distinct grace.   He has opinions about everything from Madonna’s recently famous Gaultier cone corset to the suits and hair in the Nine Inch Nails “Closer” video James is currently obsessed with.

The eloquence of his current persona is somewhat of an achievement.  As a young child his mother had killed his father with an ax for cheating on her.  She was still a free woman by reason of insanity as she made a pitcher of iced tea before calling the police on herself.  In high school he and his best friend ditched the band trip they were suppose to go on and instead took a bus to New Orleans.  After enduring a hideous stench in the room for two days and countless complaints to the hotel staff, it was discovered there was a dead body under the bed.  He didn’t see the body, but he did notice her red patent leather high heels that were nice, but entirely too cliche for the situation.  The police were called and news cameras followed.  They left New Orleans thinking their parents had seen the story on television.  They had not.

William: (Called “Billy” most often) A 24-year-old six-foot-two thick but muscular straight frat boy from Rice university with dark wavy hair dangerously close to the “mullet” direction.  His big brown eyes sparkle with amusement and bewilderment as everything in life excites him.  He is going to school for theater and often brings his books to work.  He is currently trying to produce and direct a one-act version of Blood Wedding.  Although his ‘jock’ appearance and presentation would suggest he is of limited depth, reality states he is insightful of the world around him and is captivated by the symbolism and metaphor used in this particular play.

Though he is straight, he understands the idea of mechanics in sexual situations and is usually mystified by the gay culture as culture.  He enjoys a boyish eagerness to experiment without crossing the boundaries of being “too gay.”  He is hardworking and paying his own way through college.  His loyalty and determination are matched by his compassionate sense of unyielding ethics.  For such, he often engages in moralistic right/wrong discussions when it comes to the gay men, culture, the community, and etiquette.

RJ:  A very straight five-foot-eight 33-year-old impeccably well defined man with dark brown hair, deep grey/green eyes that beams glimpses that something naughty is going on in his mind all the time.  He is ruggedly beautiful in almost a model fashion and scruff that makes him look as if he just walked in from a orgy with all the Playboy playmates for that year every time he enters the room.  He is furry, but trimmed perfectly… not too smooth, just enough to give off a very down to earth sexual charisma.  He is quite intelligent and well-spoken making him an engaging person to talk to regardless of the subject.  This natural quality helps in his line of work as an escort for women, and a non-sexual escort for men.

His girlfriend works at the Gold Room which is the long-established ‘mother club’ of Feathers and she suggested this particular job to him.  He is not attracted to other guys at all, but has no problem with them in sexual situations since he and his girlfriend were swingers and male-to-male contact is something of a regularity, but not boner-inspiring.  He is a good hearted being and lacks spurious intent both to himself, and those around him.  To complete the picture, he rides a Harley motorcycle that he takes as much care with as he does his body and his woman, and often enters work with a leather jacket over a tight button up shirt.

Sterling:  A six-foot-two-inch 42-year-old skinny greying mustached out-and-proud gay man, and the largest penis in the building.  At first glance he seems like the typical smoking homo-left-over-from-the-80s, possibly a background extra for Marlboro Country one would find drinking his grievances away in the corner of a gay dive bar in the middle of the day.  As a human being, he is the antithesis of the first perception although he had been known to slip into the stereotype on occasion.

He is beyond kind and gracious, he is knowledgeable with humility.  He has lost many friends while others were barely in grade school watching the first waves of AIDS on television.  He gains charitable delight in his volunteering and helps the community in various aspects.  His sharp, keen sense of perception combined with his observation skills makes him fun to be around whether in private talking about the news, or people watching at a sandwich shop.  There was not a part of the gay community he does not have an intimate understanding of, and a warm appreciation for.

Derrick:  A five-foot-nine-inch well-built muscular broad-shouldered and freshly out 19-year-old with reddish-brown hair in a buzz-cut that is about the same length as his chin-strap beard.  He has limited experience with men and still likes women thus putting him in the ‘transitional bisexual’ phase many questioning teens go through.  He is quiet, soft, gentle, and with his deep set brown eyes tries to absorb everything faster than he is able to digest it.  He carries a lot of worry and secrets with his walk, presumably with his family.  The result is that he is a man of few words who always seems to be pouting in a relatively cute manner.

He doesn’t drink or do drugs.  He works out, eats well, and always protects himself, even so much as bringing his own bottled water from home.  There seems to be a troubled past that was beaten out of him and his reclaiming some foundation after such exhaustion makes his steps and movements purposeful and assured.  Though he is still working with matters of morality and justice, matters of heart and romance are kept under lock and key.

Brittany:  (is not her real name) Is a transplant from the Gold Room and stands somewhere between five-foot-ten and six-foot-two, depending on the heels she was sporting.  She has a massive head of blonde curly hair and the largest natural breasts most people will ever encounter in their lifetime.  In high school she was a large girl, and everyone made fun of her.  She usually kept a jovial attitude about the situation never showing how much it cut her.  By the time she was 24 years old, she had lost a considerable amount of weight and flaunting a rock-hard, albeit still curvaceous body.  The one place where she didn’t lose any weight… her tits.

As a person on the outside, she is a confident, hot, blonde bisexual bombshell who purchased her own town home, drove a new Mustang convertible, filled her life with fun and adventure from fine dining to evenings at the theater.  She is insistent on being honest on her income tax.  On the inside she was pure effervescence on a sub-atomic level.  She is observant of the world around here, and is eager to help strangers should they need assistance.  In high school she was listless and passive.  Once she started a work out regimen,  the neurotic scheduling became part of every aspect of her life, including how she was saving to pay for college.  She doesn’t drink or do drugs.  She finds the good in everyone and a silver lining is always to be seen no matter what situation is thrown at her.

Feathers is a fantasy and fetish establishment that caters to gay men.  We have a variety of themed rooms you can choose from, you pick your model, and you have a good time.

So… is there sex involved?

We are not a brothel or in the business of selling sex.  We just provide the fantasy or fetish, and any particulars you would like can be discussed between you and  your model.

Are you hiring?

James P. Perez © 2013