"Dog Days" 6
Tricking.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, August 2005
Brian followed the trick to his car, which was parked on Barker Place, where there were no streetlights. The car was a dark blue Honda Civic.
Brian shook his head. What was it with queers today? Everyone wanted to be safe. Normal. To blend into the crowd with all the straight, middle-class clones. And this guy was no different. A dark blue Honda Civic guy.
The trick unlocked the door and started to get in. But then he stopped. He looked around, fearfully. "What was that?"
Brian listened. In the distance he could hear a siren. But you heard sirens constantly in the city. Stockwell's Stormtroopers were busy at every hour of the day and night, especially downtown.
"It's nothing," said Brian. "Let's get going. I don't have all fucking night."
Brian slipped into the passenger seat and unbuckled his belt. He took out his dick, which was already half hard. He glanced at his watch. It was getting late. He hoped this guy was talented enough to get him off quickly.
But no such luck.
The trick was nervous and he sucked cock nervously, stopping intermittently to glance around. He couldn't concentrate and that threw off Brian's own concentration.
"Listen, is this going to take forever?" Brian finally asked. "Because if it is, I have to go."
"Wait," said the trick. "Can't we go to my place? It's only about five minutes away. Then we could have the whole night to kick back. And no one would bother us there."
"I don't want to go to your fucking place!" Brian said in exasperation. "I don't want to watch a video with you, or look at your home movies, or make popcorn with you! I want to get my dick sucked! And that's all! So if you can't do it, then fucking forget it and I'll take off."
"Sorry," said the trick as he watched Brian button up his jeans. "Let me give you my number. I still want to get together sometime."
Brian shook his head in disbelief. "You must be fucking kidding."
"No, really," the guy insisted. He fumbled in his pants to take out his wallet. "I know I have some paper in here." He opened the wallet and searched inside.
"What's that?" Brian frowned as he saw something in ithe trick's wallet. He put his hand out to grab it.
"Don't do that!" the man cried. "It's nothing." He paused. "It's not what you think."
But Brian took the wallet and opened it. There was a badge inside. And ID. "You're a cop. A fucking cop!"
"So what?" the trick replied. "So what if I am?"
"Are you undercover?" Brian's heart was beating wildly. "Is this a set-up?"
"If it was, I'd have performed a lot better," the cop moaned. "No, I'm off-duty. Jesus! I kept thinking we were going to get busted. Then my ass would really be in the fire!"
"Your ass?" said Brian. "What about MY ass? I don't give a fuck about your ass! What do you think you're trying to do?"
"Trying to get laid," said the cop, softly. "And trying not to get caught at it."
"You're pathetic," said Brian, disgustedly.
"I know." The trick took his wallet and shoved back into the pocket of his pants. "But what the hell am I supposed to do? What?"
"I don't know," said Brian, thinking about how he had helped Jim Stockwell get elected. About how the campaign had been floundering until Brian took it over. He'd been so smug when Stockwell won. He'd only been thinking about all the promises Gardner Vance made him if their client won. New accounts with cash to burn. Huge bonuses. A New York office that Brian would head.
Some of it had come true. They did have many new clients and the agency was making a lot of money. But when it had come time to open the New York branch of Vangard, Gardner had chosen another man -- a younger man recruited from a local agency who already knew the territory and who would bring them some high-profile Manhattan-based clients.
But as for everything else that came in the wake of the election... Brian had made a big mistake and he knew it almost immediately. Stockwell packed his administration with homophobes and right wing nutcases. He let the cops loose on Liberty Avenue until it was little better than a police state. And he chased people back into the closet in droves -- or made it impossible for them to come out in the first place.
"I don't know what you should do," Brian reiterated. "Quit. Leave town. Fight back. Whatever the fuck. But don't involve me."
Brian got out of the Honda and slammed the door behind him. He walked back up to Liberty Avenue. The sirens in the distance sounded louder now. Closer.
Too close.
Brian kept walking.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, August 2005
Brian followed the trick to his car, which was parked on Barker Place, where there were no streetlights. The car was a dark blue Honda Civic.
Brian shook his head. What was it with queers today? Everyone wanted to be safe. Normal. To blend into the crowd with all the straight, middle-class clones. And this guy was no different. A dark blue Honda Civic guy.
The trick unlocked the door and started to get in. But then he stopped. He looked around, fearfully. "What was that?"
Brian listened. In the distance he could hear a siren. But you heard sirens constantly in the city. Stockwell's Stormtroopers were busy at every hour of the day and night, especially downtown.
"It's nothing," said Brian. "Let's get going. I don't have all fucking night."
Brian slipped into the passenger seat and unbuckled his belt. He took out his dick, which was already half hard. He glanced at his watch. It was getting late. He hoped this guy was talented enough to get him off quickly.
But no such luck.
The trick was nervous and he sucked cock nervously, stopping intermittently to glance around. He couldn't concentrate and that threw off Brian's own concentration.
"Listen, is this going to take forever?" Brian finally asked. "Because if it is, I have to go."
"Wait," said the trick. "Can't we go to my place? It's only about five minutes away. Then we could have the whole night to kick back. And no one would bother us there."
"I don't want to go to your fucking place!" Brian said in exasperation. "I don't want to watch a video with you, or look at your home movies, or make popcorn with you! I want to get my dick sucked! And that's all! So if you can't do it, then fucking forget it and I'll take off."
"Sorry," said the trick as he watched Brian button up his jeans. "Let me give you my number. I still want to get together sometime."
Brian shook his head in disbelief. "You must be fucking kidding."
"No, really," the guy insisted. He fumbled in his pants to take out his wallet. "I know I have some paper in here." He opened the wallet and searched inside.
"What's that?" Brian frowned as he saw something in ithe trick's wallet. He put his hand out to grab it.
"Don't do that!" the man cried. "It's nothing." He paused. "It's not what you think."
But Brian took the wallet and opened it. There was a badge inside. And ID. "You're a cop. A fucking cop!"
"So what?" the trick replied. "So what if I am?"
"Are you undercover?" Brian's heart was beating wildly. "Is this a set-up?"
"If it was, I'd have performed a lot better," the cop moaned. "No, I'm off-duty. Jesus! I kept thinking we were going to get busted. Then my ass would really be in the fire!"
"Your ass?" said Brian. "What about MY ass? I don't give a fuck about your ass! What do you think you're trying to do?"
"Trying to get laid," said the cop, softly. "And trying not to get caught at it."
"You're pathetic," said Brian, disgustedly.
"I know." The trick took his wallet and shoved back into the pocket of his pants. "But what the hell am I supposed to do? What?"
"I don't know," said Brian, thinking about how he had helped Jim Stockwell get elected. About how the campaign had been floundering until Brian took it over. He'd been so smug when Stockwell won. He'd only been thinking about all the promises Gardner Vance made him if their client won. New accounts with cash to burn. Huge bonuses. A New York office that Brian would head.
Some of it had come true. They did have many new clients and the agency was making a lot of money. But when it had come time to open the New York branch of Vangard, Gardner had chosen another man -- a younger man recruited from a local agency who already knew the territory and who would bring them some high-profile Manhattan-based clients.
But as for everything else that came in the wake of the election... Brian had made a big mistake and he knew it almost immediately. Stockwell packed his administration with homophobes and right wing nutcases. He let the cops loose on Liberty Avenue until it was little better than a police state. And he chased people back into the closet in droves -- or made it impossible for them to come out in the first place.
"I don't know what you should do," Brian reiterated. "Quit. Leave town. Fight back. Whatever the fuck. But don't involve me."
Brian got out of the Honda and slammed the door behind him. He walked back up to Liberty Avenue. The sirens in the distance sounded louder now. Closer.
Too close.
Brian kept walking.