PEG BOY (25 page)

 Santiago
entered the parlor to find that he was not late, but in fact, was early. Only
Richard and the Mute were there. Soon they were joined by several other boys,
followed by the twins who were led in by McIntyre’s men. Both looked like force
had been used to get them there.

Flowers had
been placed about the room. Lamps only glowed in the center space and the
perimeters were in shadows where couches and divans were discretely hidden. McIntyre
stood at the bar with a glass of champagne in hand.

“Step up boys,
have a drink. Soon our customers will arrive and I want you to be in the pink,
bursting with a glow that will radiate your youth. And for Christ’s-sake,
remember you are
not
whores! You
will
be little innocent boys
unsure of what the men are after, coy and seductive with your pretty eyes and
asses always close enough for them to see but not too close enough for them to
touch too soon. We will make them yearn for you! You must give them just enough
of promise without appearing too knowing. Keep yourself innocent until they
begin making love to you. Then do well what you have been taught! Remember what
you have learned in the past few days. Remember!”

They drank,
some in deep anticipation of the new adventure and others knowing already what
it would bring. Each boy was naked and carried his own towel on his arm to be
exchanged after every encounter. In that manner an accounting of each boy’s
activity could be logged in his name.

“Draw the
curtain, Huang!”

McIntyre
motioned to the Chinaman, who pulled at a rope that drew apart a red velvet
curtain. The stage was lit by a row of candles along its edge. Ten stools were
lined side by side. It was a small stage with the stools no more than two feet
apart and three feet high. Each stool had a wooden peg embedded in the seat
with a potion of it protruding below. Each boy was assigned a stool according
to his correspondingly sized peg.

“There they
are boys! Find your stool..., look for the number that matches your peg. Grease
it up and have a seat. Oh..., I almost forgot.”

McIntyre
snapped his fingers and the Chinaman brought out some water-pipes.

“Before we get
down to business let us have a little toast. To our success!”

A
nthony
Boles was forty-five years old. He was a successful man, was married, and he
loved boys.

At twenty,
Anthony had come to California from the northern coast where his father had
owned and operated a trading post that dealt in goods exchanged for furs and
whale-oil. Most of the business had been with Russian vessels. Anthony Bolen
had spent three years on a ship as a cabin-boy sailing the high seas. His
father had recognized the wanderlust in his son’s eyes and had allowed him the
initial voyage with a ship’s captain with whom he had done business. That
Captain had quickly perceived the boy’s loneliness and ambivalent sexuality,
and had become father and lover to the lad. At eighteen, Anthony had returned
home to take over his father’s business when the man died.

Shortly after
his arrival Anthony met his wife, a Russian girl of no great beauty, but built
for the difficulties of the northern wilderness. Soon after the marriage he
became dissatisfied with the cold, damp weather of the region and chose to seek
a warmer climate. Anthony Bolen sold what he could and abandoned the rest, and
with his wife and new-born son, boarded a ship for the south. When they docked
at the little town on the bay and he understood what was happening there, he
saw his opportunity in the growing needs of the area. Anthony established
himself as a major supplier of household goods and cloth. He branched into
importing lumber for the boom town when he saw how scarce it was in the
surrounding countryside. Eventually two sawmills were opened in the eastern
hills. In two years Bolen became one of the wealthiest men in San Francisco.
The Bolen Building, a large wooden structure built close to the waterfront on
Washington Street, housed a store, warehouse, and a small hotel frequented by
seamen.

Anthony loved
his wife. He loved his children. He fell in lust with the boys he bedded. He
often bought them off the street or along the waterfront, but this source was
not discreetly to his liking. Then he began using the services provided by
Belle Pendergast and Samuel McIntyre when they became available. He had taken
particular care to disguise himself when he had used the streets but with McIntyre’s
and Belle’s boys, his money and influence insured privacy. He paid them well
and treated the boys with kindness and respect. Everyone liked Anthony Bolen.

Anthony fell
in love when he met Vincent. He found the boy to be unusually attractive,
bright, and a joy to be with. They grew close and something of a friendship
formed between them. Vincent had been McIntyre’s boy. McIntyre was not one to
promote exclusive relationships so Anthony began to see Vincent without the
bordello owner’s knowledge and set sums of money aside each time they met. Then
he met Santiago.

From the first
night he set eyes on him and saw the small frame, the long, angular face with
the coal-black eyes that flashed with a Latin passion, he became obsessed with
the vision of the boy. Not a moment passed, not a sun set without having his
thoughts filled with Santiago. And as he visualized him he became overwhelmed
with the passion and it was this passion and the fear of it that had kept him
away from the boy for so long.

Anthony had
decided to attend McIntyre’s first night opening. The thought of a peg-house
aroused his curiosity and appetite. He had made the excuse of attending a
meeting with several ship-captains to negotiate cargo. His wife had looked
suspicious but as always, had nodded and had asked no questions.

It was with
shock then that Anthony Bolen stood before a small stage and saw, as the
curtain opened and the line of naked boys seated on their pegged stools were
revealed, the boy who had so captured his heart some months before. Santiago,
his face brooding, eyes flashing, his sex partially aroused, excited by the
event, stood out from all the rest.

Anthony knew immediately
that he intended to have the boy at
any
cost. He stood mesmerized,
looking at Santiago’s slender body and graceful flanks, the partially turgid
cock and silken chest with hardened nipples. Anthony’s breath came in stifled
gasps and without touching himself, he had an orgasm. He could not take his
eyes away from Santiago, those eyes..., penetratingly sexual, finding the soul
of the man who could not look away, and he knew that the boy had seen his
private vulnerability.

When Santiago
had noticed Anthony Bolen, he had nodded as a sign of acquiescence. Bolen
immediately approached McIntyre and bought Santiago for two hours for the price
of one hundred dollars an hour. It was the most he had ever paid to spend time
with anyone! McIntyre had noted Bolen’s excitement and had taken advantage of
it, having decided to demand a high price for Santiago of anyone who sought
him. The boy was easily the most handsome and best physically endowed of his
boys, and the most versatile.

With a bottle
of wine in hand, they retreated to Santiago’s room. Santiago was pleased that
Bolen had purchased his services. He had thought often about his gold nugget
and of the man who held it, wondering if he would ever see him again to get it
back. In Vincent’s absence Santiago’s only contact with Bolen had been severed.
Now he felt relieved and he felt comfortable in the man’s presence as he
remembered what Vincent had said of his gentleness and kindness.

“By God,
Santiago, I am so pleased to see you here. You know boy, seeing you on that
stage caused me to have an orgasm. I’m still wet with you. But for now it is
not necessary for you to sit there naked like that, although I do love looking
at you that way. Please, put some clothing on if you would be more comfortable.
I can wait for the proper time.”

“You really do
not mind?”

“Please..., I
want you to be comfortable.”

“
Gracias
...,
but it is I who is supposed to worry about
your
comfort, Señor. Thank
you for thinking of me.”

“So my boy, we
meet again!”

Santiago put a
finger to his lips to indicate a need for discretion.

“I never know
who may be standing outside my door,” he whispered. “Be cautious of what you
say!”

Bolen
continued the conversation in a lowered tone. “I simply wanted to reassure you
that a certain object is still in my hands and will continue to be safe with me
until you decide you want it.”

“I can leave
it with you, yes?”

  Bolen
nodded.

“How should I
contact you, should I need to?”

The man
withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket. He began to draw a map.

“These are the
streets outside this building. If you follow this route and come to the corner
of Kearney and Washington streets, you will walk along Kearney and toward the
waterfront. There, you will see a large brick warehouse on the left. You will
find someone there day and night when I am not present. You can always reach me
there.”

Santiago
studied the map then tore it in little pieces. “I will be there to see you in
not too long, I hope. But there are things here that I need to do.”

Bolen looked
at Santiago and leaned close.

“You like
doing this, don’t you!”

“I do.”

“Is it the
drugs he gives you?”

“They help!”

“But there is
more to it?”

“Yes, much
more. I do not wish to talk here. I have my reasons, and one of them is this
one...”

Santiago came
to Bolen and sat in his lap and put both arms around his neck. The bulge
beneath the thin fabric of Santiago’s pants moved the cloth as it began to
rise. He wiped the sweat from Bolen’s brow and smiled, his gleaming teeth
parted by a protruding tongue that came close, touching the man’s ears, his
neck, his mouth.

Two hours
passed as though they had been minutes. Anthony Bolen was not sorry he had
spent the money and had received more than he had expected. Always alert to
opportunity, Santiago’s mind worked on how he might use Bolen to his best
advantage. He made love to Anthony Bolen with an intent and ardor that left the
man exhausted and the smile on his face as he drank the wine that Santiago had
just poured, told him he had succeeded.

“You make me
want to come back, Santiago!”

“But I
do
want you to come back! Are you still seeing Vincent?”

“Yes. You and
he were quite good friends, were you not?”

“Yes, I think
so. I miss him, even if he did have something to do with the time I was beaten
and robbed. He saved my...,” but Santiago did not say the word out of fear of
being overheard. Bolen understood.

Santiago sat
crossed-legged on the bed, looking into Bolen’s eyes.

“You like him
very much?”

“Yes, I do...,
very much. He is a good boy in many ways.”

“You like me?”

“Yes I like
you
very
much!”

“More than
Vincent?”

“Why? Would it
make a difference if I did?”

Santiago
shrugged, drinking the last of the wine.

“I want you to
like me.”

“But I do!”

“When will you
come back?”

“As soon as I
can get away again.”

“Are you going
to see Vincent soon?”

Bolen saw
Santiago’s jealousy. But Bolen had to admit that Vincent could not match
Santiago’s looks or ardor.

“I will be
seeing him in two days. Is there anything I can tell him for you?”

“Yes, tell him
I miss him. I am sorry we do not live together anymore.”

“He speaks of
you quite often, too.”

“What does he
say?”

“He said he
liked you too. But I think it went a little deeper than what he was willing to
admit.”

“What do you
mean?

“I think his
caring for you went beyond friendship. I think he was beginning to fall in love
with you.”

Bolen saw the
boy’s surprise.

“Yes, he all
but told me that. You did not realize it, did you?”

“What did he
say?”

Time had
passed and Bolen began to dress. He took a folded bill from his pocket and
placed it in Santiago’s hand, putting a finger to his lips, and continued in a
whisper.

“Vincent was
happy when he was passed on to Belle because he disliked working for McIntyre.
He also said that another reason he was glad he left was because he disliked
getting emotionally involved with anyone, and that was happening. At first I
was silly enough to believe he was referring to me, but then he started
speaking about you and the manner in which he spoke showed that he cared a
great deal for you. You see, Vincent does not want to have to need anyone. I
know that sometimes he resents me because he
does
feel a dependence on
me.”

“I did not
realize Vincent felt that way.” Santiago was startled by the revelation.

“I know,”
Bolen walked to the door. “He seldom makes his feelings known.”

Bolen took
Santiago’s hand. “Thank you,” he said, kissing the boy’s forehead. “I would
like to come back to see you. Sometimes McIntyre gets nervous when a customer
shows too much interest in one boy, and he makes that boy less accessible. But
in this case I think the correct sum of money will convince him to be more
tolerant. Still, we must not show too much enthusiasm for each other.”

Bolen opened
the door as one of McIntyre’s men approached.

“The boss
wants to see you in his office,” he pointed a finger at Santiago. When he was
gone, Bolen kissed the boy again.

“Take care of
yourself my little friend. I will give your regards to Vincent.”

Santiago
inserted his peg and went to McIntyre. As he passed through the parlor he
looked for the twins, but they were not to be seen. There were several groups
of men and boys sitting alone or with others, all seemingly enjoying themselves
in games of cards and dice. Champagne flowed freely and waterpipes of opium
smoked continuously.

McIntyre was
in his office sitting at the divan with the naked Mariposa at his feet. The
room was filled with the heavy and sweet smell of the drug. The mute, his eyes
barely open, leaned drunkenly against McIntyre’s legs.

“Aw..., come
in my boy..., come in. Here, have some!”

McIntyre held
out the long pipe stem.

“You wanted
me?”

“Sit,” the man
commanded. “Have some, then we will talk.”

Santiago
puffed as he filled his lungs with the smoke and let himself be carried by it.
He sat in the chair opposite McIntyre, his bare feet feeling the luxurious pile
of the carpet. The room was hot and dark, with only one small lamp lit.

“Well lad you
seem to have become one of our favorites. Three men have asked for your
services tonight. Our Mr. Bolen was willing to offer the most money however, so
we sold you to him. You like him, don’t you?”

“
Si
...,
he is a good man. He is a kind man.
Si
..., I like to be with him.”

“Good...,
good. Yes, you like to be with him. Perhaps he will come back to see you, eh?
We will be able to command a very good price from him. Our Mr. Bolen is quite
captivated by you. Be sure you do what is necessary to keep him interested!
Now..., I want you to be a good boy and get yourself washed. There is another
gentleman who wishes time with you. You do not look too tired, and the gentleman
who wants you is interested in what you can do to him with this...”

McIntyre
grabbed Santiago’s penis, visible beneath the thin gauze trousers.

“This time, it
is not your ass that you are to offer. Fuck him well. I know this man and he
will demand to be treated harshly.”

Santiago
looked worried. “But..., I am not sure I have much left in me.” He pointed to
the bulging crotch. “It may not come up as easily this time because I came two
times with Mr. Bolen.”

“You will do
your best to ensure that it does, boy. Do whatever it takes, but get hard again
long enough to make him feel it. Fake your orgasm if you must, but fuck him
until he screams.”