Life Struggles (Life Stories Book 1) (10 page)

I crossed over to the West Bank and started in the direction of a bunch of local campgrounds. I'd found them when doing a column on tourism in the local area, but it turned out very few tourists used them.

I found one with a forgettable name that was $30 a night for a campsite. I stopped, found a restroom to take a shit, and then went in search of food. A sort of kiosk sold hot dogs, hamburgers, grilled chicken sandwiches and cokes. I took one of each and wolfed them down. Next I walked back to the car and climbed into the front passenger seat. I left the engine and air conditioner running, set an alarm for 9:45, put back the seat and either passed out or slept.

Nine forty-five sure came early that night. Despite the air conditioning it was still warm and muggy. I quickly brushed my teeth and shaved, then headed back into the city. I stopped at a liquor store and bought a fifth of their best vodka. I had finally achieved middle shelf.

Somebody was pulling out as I arrived, so there was actually a parking place available at Club Wonderland. I doubt that will happen again during this incarnation. I checked for my panic button, cash, driver's license, two burner phones, car keys and locked the car.

Kitty had described the area as “kinda seedy.” She certainly admired it more than I did. “Slum” would have been a better description, but some decent people actually lived in slums. “Cesspool” maybe?

There was a short line at the door. All prospective patrons were males, as expected. I was surprised by the variation in age. One guy looked to be in his late sixties, a few looked fourteen. I was among the older half of the clientele, but not by as much as I had figured.

Eventually it was my turn. I offered up my driver's license and three twenty dollar bills out of my rapidly disappearing initial stake. I was expecting change, but was disappointed. Fifty for the membership and ten for the night. After this I could get in for the rest of the year for only ten dollars. Something to look forward to. I guess.

I was given a green arm band. I hoped it meant straight. It actually meant I was over 21 so I could be served my own vodka. Speaking of which, the fifth was confiscated and my name written on it. I read “Evan Mocadoo.” Well, I've been called worse. Oh, I also got a locker key on a stretch band for my wrist.

I encountered a patron on my way in. He looked me up and down then turned away. Gosh, Briefs Boy had called me handsome! What was wrong with this dude? The fourth patron I encountered said “Hi,” so I decided to presume on his friendliness to get directions to the lockers.

The whole place was darker than my comfort zone, but the locker room at least had some light. I quickly stripped to my new white briefs and donned a towel before removing them. Everything went in the locker including all but about $35. I clutched that in my hand, knowing I would have to pay for the cokes and whatnot.

I tried walking around, then tried standing against a wall. The parade reminded me of the poem on the Statue of Liberty: Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore and I will give them a membership to Club Wonderland.

Eventually I went out and sat at the bar and asked for a coke with some of my vodka.

“Name?” The bartender looked bored. Even as handsome as I knew myself to be, I must not have been his type.

“Evan Mocadoo.” Slipped off my tongue like it was what my mother called me. Speaking of my mother, I wish she were here right now. I'm scared and I want my mommy.

Eventually a guy my age and twice my weight sat down next to me. I'm not a prude, but some people simply should never be seen naked. By anyone, including themselves.

“Ron,” he introduced himself

“Evan.” I could at least be civil.

“Wanna play?” Ron sure was a bashful fellow.

“Not right now, thanks.” Evan Mocadoo was waiting for someone younger and thinner. A lot younger and a whole lot thinner.

People came and went. The teenagers generally kept out of the bar area because they couldn't drink alcohol. Eventually someone matching my approximate target description exited the back area. He was accompanied by a guy at least three times his age who thanked the target. Target kissed his “date,” and looked around. He spotted an empty seat next to me and headed over.

Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that? When he rounded the corner of the bar I could see all of him. All naked him. All naked him with a dick I couldn't ever aspire to even if I bought every one of the e-mail spam devices guaranteed to lengthen my penis. He gave me a megawatt smile and sat down.

“I'm Trevor,” he said. Luke had told me that most of them were named Troy or Trevor or something similar.

“Evan. Can I get you a drink?”

He glanced at his wristband, which was red. If mine meant over twenty-one I had to assume his meant something else. “Ah, you know, I'd sure like one, but…”

I called to the bored bartender. “Three cokes, two with vodka for me, one without for my young friend.”

I paid for the cokes and tipped the guy, then transferred one of the alcoholic beverages to Trevor.

He grinned at me. “Thanks, man.” He swallowed about a quarter of the glass in his first gulp without choking. This must not be his introduction to alcohol.

How do you start a conversation while wearing a towel with a King Kong-dicked naked teenager who obviously made his living on his back. Or his knees, or in some other position. I wasn't real familiar with the mechanics and reminded myself to ask Luke for the Reader's Digest version. Next year, or the year after.

“So, how are you Trevor?” Lame. My mind was blank.

“I'm just fine, honey. How are you tonight? Looking for something special?” His hand was under my towel and on my dick. This was the first time a guy who wasn't a medical professional had touched my dick since I was in diapers and had no say in the matter. I swallowed hard.

“Ah, I'm good. Something special? Like a different drink?” Fuck I wished my mind would work even half as well as his hand was working my prick.

“Something different, for sure.” Trevor slid closer and increased the under-towel activity. I was hoping I wouldn't get hard, but that didn't seem to be a problem. I probably couldn't get hard right now from a blowjob by Cheryl. And she was an expert.

“Look, you want to head into the back for a little while? We could just talk. Or something.” His grin was a leer. Oh my fucking God.

“Ah, Trevor, later for sure.” Promises, promises. “Look, I'm more into watching. I just came out, and I've got some fantasies I want to fulfill. Have you ever done porn?”

He laughed. “Nah, but I'm not averse to it. What kind are you talking about? I don't do golden showers or scat.”

What the fuck were golden showers? I think I know what scat is, but … oh. Showers of yellow liquid. I got it. Yuck.

“No, just kinda straight sucking and fucking. I've got money and I'm trying to cast a private porn film just for me. I need maybe four or five good-looking guys your age. Interested?” What am I getting myself into here?

“Yeah, sure. You like to watch? Maybe a friend and I could come home with you and let you watch. Or take part if you want. With both of us.” Trevor's leer had turned into a grin. He smelled money.His hand seemed to be almost ready to give up on my shriveled dick, though.

“Maybe. I just want to look around some. And, one of my competitors is in town looking for the same thing. Have you run into anybody like that?” This was the real issue.

“Nope, never heard of it. Hey, Sammy.” He called to another white boy across the room. “You hear of anybody coming here to cast a porn film?”

Sammy walked around the bar to join us. Thank God he was wearing a towel.

“Nah. Who wants to know?” Seemed like a reasonable question.

“My friend Evan here wants to know. He's trying to cast a porn film with guys our age and says a competitor is in town doing the same thing.” At least Trevor had a decent memory.

“I'll go ask around.” I handed Sammy the other vodka and coke, and kept the virgin one for myself. He took a sip and grinned. “Be back shortly.”

While Sammy was asking around Trevor finally gave up on trying to get me hard. With his hand at least.

“Hey, Evan, you seem uptight. Would a quick blowjob help?” The thought of it caused my balls to shrink up toward my body, and not in a good way. My dick shrank to nano-size. I probably couldn't get a blowjob from a gnat.

“Not right now, thanks.” I took his hand and extracted it from my crotch. Trevor looked like this was a natural occurrence, which heartened me a little bit.

Sammy walked back out. A taller guy, a few years older, bare chested and in briefs, stood in the doorway looking in our direction. It was too dark to make out his face.

“Bob over there's done some porn. He said he'd ask around tomorrow.” Shit, I didn't have a tomorrow. My forty-eight hours were up in about twelve or thirteen. Fuck.

Sammy leaned over and kissed Trevor (thank God no attention on me), then moved to whisper something in his ear. Trevor looked at me and nodded.

“Hey, Evan, how about if Sammy and I put on a free show for you in back? Then you'll know what you're getting.” I could not turn this down without blowing whatever cover I had left. Shit. Blowing. Undoing?

We walked through the door into the back. They led me to a dark room that had an open door. As I stepped in I found a knife at my throat and a voice I recognized was speaking in my ear. “Motherfucker, you outed me to my work. You're going to pay.” Then the lights went out.

Chapter Eleven

Water was thrown in my face and I woke up. Trevor, Sammy and Blowjob – the guy from this afternoon – were visible in the faint light. My clothes were on the floor and Blowjob was examining the panic button.

“I seen one of these before. You're working with the police, motherfucker. Well, this one won't do you any good.” He put it on a table, and then turned to me.

“How the fuck did you know I was gay?” A few things were finally making sense, but that didn't make me feel any better. I had called the guy “Blowjob,” not knowing he was gay. I was just looking for some kind of disrespectful name to call him. He evidently didn't like being disrespected. Or having his boss learn he was gay.

“Ah, I didn't, I just, you know…” His fist in my face shut me up. This was not looking good.

“Then you came to Wonderland stalking me.” Oh. Paranoia and anger. And fists. And a knife. What comes after “return library books” in the inventory?

“I oughta cut your balls off.” I decided against correcting his speech. One should never use ‘oughta’ in place of ‘ought to.’ Every first-year journalism student knows that.

Blowjob motioned at Trevor and Sammy. “You guys have some fun. I gotta get me some toys.” I doubted he was thinking of Barbie Dolls.

“Evan – that ain't your real name, it's Ethan, found it on your driver's license. You're gonna get real fucked up tonight. Maybe just real fucked. Depends on what Bob wants to do with you.” Trevor wasn't beaming his smile at me, but his teeth were showing. I didn't like this.

“Bob said we could have some fun.” This was from Sammy.

They rolled me over on my stomach. “Áve María, grátia pléna, Dóminus técum. Benedícta tu in muliéribus.” It was all I could think to say.

“Stop fucking speaking Spanish and unclench your ass, motherfucker.” And here I thought Trevor liked me.

Trevor worked on unclenching my ass while Sammy kicked me in the side. Must have looked like fun because soon Trevor let go of my ass. He and Sammy practiced the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies on my body. Actually, it was the Dance of the Sadistic Dumb Fairies, and it hurt. It hurt really bad. I felt a rib break, then another one.

“Stop that shit and open him up.” Blowjob, or Bob, had returned. The pain was nearly overwhelming. I just hoped nothing important had been ruptured.

The two boys each took one cheek of my ass and pulled. “We're just gonna start him off slow.” That was from Blowjob Bob.

I felt something rubbery and pointed at my anus. It crept inward a few millimeters. God that burned. It was withdrawn and then shoved in harder and further. The third time it must have been most of the way through my anus and approaching my rectum. The burning in my ass drove away the pain of the broken ribs and the kicks. I heard a grunt.

“Close enough.” I heard something scrape across the (table?) and felt a fairly soft thwack on my ass. OK, I could do this. The next hit was murder. He was driving the thing into me with a hammer.

I screamed and begged for mercy. I started to cry. This was the worst physical pain I had ever felt in my life. I knew then I was going to be raped and murdered. If I could pay them to reverse the order of that I would.

“Butt plug's in. Roll him over again.” That was Blowjob Bob.

One of the boys slipped and stumbled against the table. Something hit the floor with a metallic sound. And then a siren went off.

“Fucker! I ought to kill you now. Hurry guys, grab his shit and get out.” I was in too much pain to understand what had happened. I heard hands scraping on wood, picking things up and dropping them. “Get the fucking money!” Blowjob Bob was yelling. And not at me for a change.

Something hit me on the side of the head and I passed out. I woke up in a moving vehicle. At least I'll have a minute or two with no added pain.

I tried to take stock of my surroundings and absolutely failed. The seat had an expensive-feeling velour on it. It was dark. I was in pain. That's all I could figure out.

We stopped and somebody got out. The door slammed and we took off. I could hear another car starting. We moved and I passed out again.

I woke up when the light came on. Somewhere over my head was all I knew. I was dragged from the car and held upright by someone while somebody else used my torso as a punching bag. I could feel a couple more ribs break, and something gave way inside my abdomen. Then the puncher worked over my face, and suddenly stopped.

“You're dead, motherfucker.” I felt something puncture my upper chest and go into my shoulder. Then another puncture into my right leg and another matching one into my left leg. A boot stomped on my hand. “Die!” was all I heard when the worst pain of the night enveloped me. I passed out.