The Troll Whisperer (2 page)

I already told u. I like cute boyz who are
loud. Ur cute. Now I want u loud.

There was an even longer pause this time.

I didn’t make this video to provide sexual
gratification.

Well now u tell me. Too late, already came.
Thanx for the boner! bye.

Oscar laughed again. He checked on some of
his other troll bait while he waited to see if Noah would respond
to that. While he was waiting, he checked on his long-con trolling
over at a pick-up artist website. He was particularly proud of this
project. He had done his time in the forums under the name,
allthepussy
, playing along with everyone, not saying
anything too outrageous (although he would have had to go really
over-the-top to stand out among these assholes). He’d done it for
two whole months. Once he had been accepted into the community, he
began to post about a revolutionary new technique he’d figured out:
since smell was the most primitive of all human senses, all a guy
had to do was casually touch a woman’s nose on their first
encounter and she’d go crazy with desire. He posted from a few
other accounts testifying that it really did work, and slowly but
surely, other guys began chiming in that they, too, were getting
mad pussy from bopping women on the nose. He figured they either
actually tried it and got the drink in the face that they deserved
and were too embarrassed to tell the truth, or they were the type
who never tried any of the magical “pick up” techniques and just
liked to say they did. Oscar read a post by this one dude,
alphamale1974
, who bragged that he had banged three chicks
in one night with this technique. Oscar laughed so hard beer came
out of his nose.

The night could have ended there. It might
have, if Oscar hadn’t cracked open a fourth beer. He couldn’t get
Noah out of his increasingly buzzed head, so he made a new YouTube
sock—
ASMRFan567
—and commented with that.

Hi! I really liked your video! I can’t
believe it’s the first one you’ve ever made— you’re a natural!

Noah was still online, apparently, because he
answered almost immediately.

Thank you so much!

Oscar wrote back
, Please don’t let guys
like up4it get you down; he’s just trolling you.

Oh, I’ve heard of “trolling.” :) I won’t let
him bother me. He must be a very sad person to spend his time
upsetting others.

Oscar grinned. He typed gleefully:
Oh yes.
Very sad. Hey, do you take requests?

I hadn’t considered it yet, but
certainly!

Good. I was wondering if you would maybe
take some peanut butter and spread it on toast. I think the knife
against the toast would be an awesome trigger.

Well, it’s not really what I had in mind,
since I want to focus on nurse role-play, but I’ll consider it.
:)

Great! And when you’re done, could you smear
that peanut butter all over your chest?

A long pause.

I don’t think that would make a very good
ASMR trigger.

Yeah, I know, but it would be kind of hot.
I bet if I licked it off of you, I could make u loud
.

There was not much of a pause this time; he
caught on quick.

You are in violation of the Terms and
Conditions of YouTube, and I will be flagging your comments as
inappropriate and reporting both of your accounts.

Awww. U mad? :(

No response. Oscar finished his beer and let
out a belch of triumph. Well, that had been fun. He was feeling
pretty sleepy. He opened his favorite porn site to jerk off before
going to sleep. He found a good video of two guys going at it in a
locker room. He spat in his hand and began to stroke himself.
Halfway through the video, he paused it and clicked back over to
Noah. He was looking directly at the camera, as if he were really
in front of Oscar. With his left hand, he pushed play. “Hi, my name
is Noah,” the video of Noah intoned softly. “I will be taking care
of you today.” Oscar rewound it and played that part again as he
moved his right hand faster. He kept doing it until he came with
surprising force.

He wiped the come off of himself with a sock
from the floor, which he threw right back where he got it as soon
as he was done. That still left him sticky; he really ought to take
a shower. He waded through the laundry to the bathroom, turned the
tap on the shower, and stripped while waiting for the water to get
hot. Being dirty was fun, but at the same time, a nice hot shower
felt pretty good. When he was finished, he got out and sniffed the
towels until he found the one that was least moldy. They all
smelled pretty bad. He took stock of his laundry situation; it was
dire. With a deep sigh, he resigned himself to a terrible fate:

Tomorrow would be laundry day.

****

Oscar slept until eleven. It was a luxury
he’d been enjoying since he’d started working graveyard shift, but
as of Monday, he was back to the early shift. At least he had
Saturday and Sunday off again; having his days off in the middle of
the week always felt weird. He woke up a little fuzzy; he wanted a
cup of coffee, but his kitchen thwarted him again. He had no clean
mugs, no way to clean them with a full sink, and his coffee pot was
too nasty even for him. Goddamnit, he was going to have to wash
some dishes, too. He spent most of his time cleaning up other
people’s shit at the sewage plant— the last thing he wanted to do
on his day off was clean up his own.

He stacked the dishes on the counter and went
to work. After thirty minutes, he finally had enough cleared to
make a cup of coffee. When his head felt less fuzzy, he liberated
his laundry basket from the dirty clothes that had buried it. He
piled a more reasonable amount in and began his trip to the
community laundry room. The bright light of the sun made him
squint— looked like it was going to be yet another disgustingly
perfect day in paradise. He took the basket to the laundry room,
dumped the clothes on the folding table, and then headed back for
more, making five trips in total. After loading his laundry card
with forty dollars, he returned to begin the ordeal. He claimed
four washers and was about to take the last one when he heard
someone come in the door. Normally he would have just taken it
anyway, but he happened to turn around to see who he would be
pissing off today.

It was Noah.

Oscar dropped the laundry basket in surprise.
Noah immediately put his own down and crossed the room to Oscar.
“Here, let me help you with that.” His voice was louder this time,
but it still had that sweet quality that Oscar had masturbated to
last night. He panicked for a second, but he quickly realized how
stupid that was. There was no way Noah could know it was Oscar
fucking with him last night.

Noah finished gathering the clothes. “Should
I just put them in the washer for you?”

Oscar just stared at him for a moment, his
mouth hanging open. It felt unreal, as if a character had popped
out his television set. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

Noah surveyed the rest of the machines.
“Looks like I’ll have to come back later,” he said as he loaded
Oscar’s clothes into the washer.

“No!” Oscar said, surprising himself. This
was strange and embarrassing and probably the worst idea he’d ever
had, but hell, if Matt Bomer popped out of his TV, he would
definitely try to fuck him. Why should this be any different? “No,
you can have this one.”

“That’s very considerate of you, but I’ll
just come back later.”

“No, it’s cool— I mean I already have laundry
in the other machines, so it’d be a dick move on my part to take
the last one, right?”

Noah looked again at the washers, then around
the empty room. “Are you using all of them?”

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah,
I guess I got behind on my laundry.” He felt himself blushing. What
the fuck? He never blushed, because he was never embarrassed.

Noah arched his eyebrow, but he looked more
amused than disgusted. He retrieved his basket from across the
room, placed the clothes in the washer, and added the soap. He was
about to put in his laundry card, but Oscar stuck his own in.
“Here, it’s on me. I put like forty dollars on this thing.”

Noah smiled. Christ, he had dimples.
Dimples
. “Are you this nice to everyone, or am I just
lucky?”

“You’re lucky,” Oscar said. Now it was Noah’s
turn to look a bit flummoxed. He retreated with his basket to the
other side of the room, pulled out a textbook that he had carried
at the bottom of his laundry basket, and began reading. Oscar
didn’t want to come on too strong, so he sat at the other end of
the room. He just watched Noah for a few minutes. Noah took out a
notebook and a pen and began to take notes. In between notes, he
would put the pen in between his lips, nibbling at the end with
those plush lips…

Thankfully, his phone buzzed just then. He
welcomed the distraction. It was a text from Jeremy.

U want to go drinking tonite?

Oscar texted back.

Not with u. u left me with a $75 tab last
week when you left with that skank. Pay up dickface or fuck
off.

Jeremy responded:

Better a dickface then having actual dicks
in my face.

How is that an insult? i love dicks in my
face.

Why dont u suck mine?

As if i would let ur diseased dick anywhere
near me. ur a walking std.

There was a long pause in which Oscar
definitely did not sneak another peek at Noah. His phone buzzed
again.

How about I pay u $30 and ur drinks are on
me?

Deal.

Cool. see u tonite.

He put his phone back in his pocket and
contemplated his next move. This was going to be a challenge. A
laundry room was not a sleazy nightclub, and neither of them were
drunk. They were also not exchanging messages on Grindr. Those were
the two primary ways Oscar got laid. He was pretty sure Noah was
gay, but he decided he’d better test it before he went further. He
took off his tank top and threw it in his remaining pile of
laundry. The movement caught Noah’s eye. Oscar stretched his arms
up, displaying his toned, tattooed body. Noah’s pale skin turned
bright pink; he put his nose back in his textbook but kept looking
up, his gaze scurrying away quickly each time as his face grew even
redder. Well, that answered that question.

Where did he go from there? He should
probably start up a conversation. “So,” Oscar said. “What are you
studying?”

“Biology 101. I just started at San Diego
City College.”

“Oh yeah? What are you majoring in?”

“Nursing.”

Of course he was. “So, are you new to the
area?”

“Yes, actually. I’m from New Hampshire.”

“Wow. That’s a long ways away.”

“Yes,” Noah agreed. “Are you from here?”

“Yup. Born and raised in San Diego.”

“This area is beautiful,” Noah said.

“Yeah, I guess, but you guys have those trees
that get all colorful and shit in the fall. Must be nice to live
somewhere where things actually change. Nothing changes here.”

The conversation petered out after that.
Oscar thought over what he had learned. New to San Diego, new to
college, new to the Internet— what else was Noah new to? He
casually examined Noah’s clothes. He wore khakis and a polo shirt,
despite it being ninety degrees outside. He was very polite and
well-spoken. He was as far away from home as he could manage while
staying in the United States, and he was also living in a cruddy
apartment which suggested no parental support. Ex-fundie, Oscar
decided. Or maybe Mormon. Was he out of the closet yet?

Oscar took out his phone and played a game
while Noah studied for a little while longer. Eventually, Oscar’s
wash finished. He took the wet laundry and piled it into the
dryers. A few minutes later and Noah’s wash was done as well; he
put his clothes in one of the dryers, too. They both stood beside
each other, a little closer than was necessary. Oscar breathed in;
Noah smelled very faintly of Pine-Sol, but it wasn’t overwhelmingly
chemical. Just nice.

When he had finished loading, he stuck his
hand out to Noah. “I’m Oscar.”

Noah took his hand, his skin surprisingly
rough. “Noah,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Their hands lingered together for a few
moments. Noah broke the grip first and retreated, returning to his
studying. Oscar considered him. Yes, this was definitely a mutual
flirtation, but where to take it from here? His gaze lit upon the
vending machine in the corner. Inspiration struck him. He crossed
the room and purchased two Snickers bars.

Casually, he sauntered over to Noah. “Here,”
he said, offering the candy. “Brain food.”

Noah smiled shyly as he accepted it. “Thank
you.”

Oscar went back to his seat, feeling
triumphant. This was going well, but he still couldn’t think of a
subject for conversation. They’d already covered the weather. He
ate his Snickers bar and threw the wrapper in the trash, like a
good boy. He returned to his seat and got out his phone again;
maybe there would be another opportunity to talk when the laundry
was finished.