fukkn

Stumbled out of the bar into that dank alley which smelled like rotted garbage and festering urine. The night was halfway over. While I was in the tavern, it must had rain. The uneven bricks of the back alley were glistening in a translucent glimmer. I fished a cigarette out of my pocket with intoxicated, numb fingers, lit up. I lean my head back and blow gray smoke up into a cloudy sky with ample partings so the stars can look down and judge me. "Fuck you." I mutter and almost fall. I hold onto a lamp post covered in flyers to support myself. The beers and tequila shots were taking their toll. I was truly screwed. Truly damned.

"Hey. You spare a smoke?" A voice out of the darkness hissed.

Goddammit, I don't want to be bothered. I want to get home. First I gotta piss.

I didn't answer the phantom and wobbled over to the filthy dumpster, whipped out my junk, and relieved myself. Cigarette precariously dangling from numb lips, I zipped up and half-assed a scan for police patrols. On one end of the alley, a group of loud frat boys stumbled by gregarious as they often are.

"Can I bum a smoke off of you?" The voice asked again.

I gazed over to a dark corner filled with shadows and dread. He slithered out of the inky blackness in grungy clothes and frayed sneakers. His blond hair was disheveled and he was sniffling. The boy was on something. It was his eyes. His eyes gleamed in the half-light, burning with sadness and despair and evil as hell addiction. 

"What?" I snapped. I felt like Fagin all hunched over and bitter and shitty.

"Do...you...have...an...extra...cigarette?" He said slow and drawn out as if speaking to a retard. Funny thing, he was.

I mumbled 'Oh yeah' or something like that and handed him one. He took it in slender fingers, dirt under the nails. He was slight of build and I wondered the last time he ate.

"So, what are you looking for?" He asked coyly.

Ah yes, the general question of every male prostitute in every alley of the world.

"Death." I grunted.

"Oh don't say that. Life is good. It is wonderful and full of great times." He smiled broadly.

I blearily gazed at him and saw him in a new light. Here standing in front of me was a beautiful, homeless youth and in lieu of all his hardships he currently endured, he still remained positive. I was like that once. Before beaten down by lovers, and friends, and trust, and mishap decisions, and misguided circumstance. Before my mind went and became toxic and corrosive in bitter, self-loathing.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, pointing to the 24 hour cafe open on the opposite end of the alley. "I need to get some food in me to suck up this alcohol."

"I am hungry." He said, smiling. "Been drinking, huh? You drink a lot?"

"It's all I have left and even that is becoming a bore." I snarled as I began stomping down the alley.

We cut into the shop. Ordered food and strong coffee. Took a booth at the wall. The place was empty except for the lonely hobo with a dog and a deranged homosexual on a laptop. We sat for sometime not talking.

"I'm James." He finally said.

I introduced myself the best I could but was so drunk and depressed instead of coming across cordial it came out loathsome and obscene. I drank my coffee in silence until our sandwiches arrived. The boy ate in gusto.

"Haven't eaten in a while?" I asked as I watched him devour his meal.

"Not good anyway." He managed between chomps of pre-processed flesh.

Outside the rain began and the late night revelers dashed under awnings and into doorways. I looked at James. Rentboy to be sure. But, I think it was forced in way of certain living arrangements. Or perhaps he was simply a sex addict. A lot of them are. They won't admit it. But, they are.

"I was thrown out of this place today." I said glancing around the coffee shop.

"The cafe? Why?"

"There were a couple of heroin addicts I was talking to in research of a new book. Because I was in association and, basically because the barista is an Imperialistic bitch, I was asked to never come back."

"And, yet you're here." He laughed. "Wait. New novel? You're a writer?"

"Yes." I croaked. "A curse."

"Wow!" James gushed. "I never met a real writer! What do you write?"

"Garbage." I grunted.

"Oh...come on. It can't be that bad."

I sighed. Took a sip of coffee, poked at my sandwich. "You have a place to stay? It's raining outside and it's late. I need to get some sleep."

"Actually, I am couch surfing with some friends over on 4th. A bunch of tweekers. The girl who runs the house and I got into an argument. So, right now...the rain is my blanket."

I looked off into the darkness beyond the grime streaked pane window. The intermittent flash of summer lightning. The glow of yellow lamps igniting sheets of cascading rain. I took a cigarette from my pocket, offered it to James. Removed one for myself, lit both.

"You can stay at my house if you wish." I stated. "No funny business. Unless you are up to some funny business."

James leaned over the small table and asked in hushed tones, "Are you gay?"

I continued to look out the window, slouched against the wall in the booth, "Aren't we all?"

We finished our meal and briskly walked over incandescent pools and dribbling rain to my apartment a few blocks away. I opened the door and invited him in. He took in the place, like a good hustler, making sure there were no sinister weapons or weird sex gadgets. I saw in his face he was relieved that the place was somewhat bare - bed, bookshelf, table, a couple of chairs, clothes neatly hung in an open closet. Nothing to hide.

He turned to me, "You mind if I take a shower? It's been a few days."

I said sure and gathered him a clean towel and an unused bar of soap. I lay on the edge of the bed, smoking a damp cigarette, watching the shadows move across the ceiling from passing cars outside. Through my experiences in Mexico, as long as he was in my house, I wasn't going to let him out of my sight. I could use a shower, too. But, I was certain as soon as I walked out of the bathroom, anything of value I had would had been long gone.

James walked out of the bathroom with a green towel wrapped around his scrawny torso.

"Let me see if I can find some pajama bottoms for you." I offered.

"No prob." He quipped. "I like to sleep in the nude."

Convenient. I offered him a beer from the fridge and we chatted a bit as he lay under the thin blanket. He said something of getting enough money for a bus ticket to return to Las Vegas. He had family there. I didn't bother questioning why he didn't hit his family up for the fare. After, I finished my beer, I peeled off my damp clothes and slid under the blanket. He was shivering and so was I. Wordlessly, he snuggled next to me, muttering that my body was warm. His torso was so boney. In the half-light of the room, he turned towards me and slid his arm across my chest, his erection thumping against my hip.

"Fuck me." He breathed into my ear.

We began kissing. The taste of saliva mixed with coffee, beer, and ham swirled in our mouths. James kissed my chest, playing with my erect nipples, making his way down to my cock. Like a champ, he sucked my dick like something I needed in a long time. It felt as if I was in heaven. He definitely was a professional. I got to the point I couldn't take it any more and rolled the blond onto his stomach. I parted his cheeks and rimmed him for a good twenty minutes. He squirmed and gasped as I loosed him up. I flipped James over onto his back, placing his feet up onto my shoulders. Spitting into my palm, I lubed the head of my cock up and slowly pushed it in. He clung to me like a monkey as I rapidly rutted and lunged into him. His ass muscles tightened and grasped my dick as I thrust - literally sucking my cock into him. I couldn't hold back any longer. I yanked out and sprayed him with my semen. A second after, as he masturbated wildly, he unloaded his pent up frustrations onto his self. It was a work of art. I snatched my cell phone and snapped a pic before he could hide his face.

"Hey!" James laughed. "You should ask before doing that!"

I plopped next to him, placing my phone onto the endtable. "How about first thing tomorrow morning, we head over to Greyhound and get you that ticket to Vegas?"

"For reals?!" He beamed, lying next to me, propped up on his elbow. "You'll do that?"

"And more." I said morosely. "Now, let's get some sleep."

The last thing I saw before I dozed off was that the clock read 3:54am. Covered in semen and sweat, we both fell into a deep sleep...

Needed. Much needed.