young gay guys, Ricky shot him down and said it had to be family oriented. Besides that,
someone had probably done this already. When Leyland suggested a jerk-off club, Ricky just
laughed and rested his head on the table. A few minutes after that, Ricky suggested a new type of
restaurant, where people only paid what they had to give instead of paying set prices. If you had a lot of money, you paid higher. If you were just a struggling student or you were unemployed,
you paid almost nothing. Leyland threw an empty water bottle at him and laughed. He told Ricky
that if anyone ever did come up with a concept like that they’d go broke within the first month of
business. “People,” Leyland said, “are all the same. They all want it for free. And the ones with
the most money will wind up paying less than those with the least amount of money.”
When the doorbell rang, Ricky was glad to get up and answer it. It was growing dark
outside and his eyes were tired from staring at the computer screen. They’d been hoping to get
new ideas on the web. But they weren’t getting anywhere, because Leyland kept coming up with
ideas that involved sex, alcohol, gambling, or pot.
Ricky yawned and walked into the front hall. He opened the door and found Glen and
Tiffany standing on the front steps smiling at him.
Glen said, “Your parents are gone for a few days, aren’t they?” His hand was pressed
against Tiffany’s ass. It didn’t seem to bother Glen that her muffin top was bulging over her low
rise jeans.
Ricky nodded yes. He looked at Tiffany. Her head was down, her hands were folded, and
she was kicking an acorn away from the doormat with her pigeon-toed feet.
“Can we go upstairs?” Glen asked. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Ricky sighed and stepped away from the door. “I’m working in the kitchen with Leyland.
But no one is upstairs.” He wished they hadn’t asked. He’d never been able to say no to his
friends, especially Glen. He was the best-looking guy in school and Ricky would have done
anything just to make out with him in the backseat of a car. He would have done anything to go
upstairs with Glen and roll around on his mother’s and father’s bed. But Ricky didn’t really want
them screwing around in his house. If they wanted to screw around, why couldn’t they find a place on their own and leave him out of it? It was bad enough he knew he’d never get into the
backseat of a car with Glen, and now they had to rub it into his face.
Glen reached for Tiffany’s hand and pulled her into the house so fast her head jerked and
her midriff jiggled. It looked as if Glen was afraid Ricky would change his mind. “Thanks, man.
I’ll owe you one.” Then he pulled her upstairs, turned right at the top, and disappeared.
Ricky frowned and walked back to the kitchen. If only Glen would pull him up to the
bedroom that way, life would be perfect. He wasn’t asking for much, just one quick romp in the
sheets.
After that, Leyland and Ricky tried to work on coming up with ideas for the project, but
after a half hour of listening to the bed knocking into the wall in the bedroom above them, Ricky
shut his laptop and jumped up from the table. “Let’s get out of here. I’m tired of listening to this.
It’s making me crazy.”
“It’s getting to me, too,” Leyland said. “I’ve seen Glen in the locker room. He’s hung like
a fucking horse. I could swing from his cock. And to think that dumb bitch is getting all that
great dick is driving me up the motherfucking wall.”
Ricky shrugged. Ricky had seen Glen’s dick, too. Tiffany wasn’t bright, but she was
stacked like a brick shithouse and wasn’t shy about spreading her legs. “At least she sounds like
she’s enjoying it.” He’d never heard such wails and moans. Each time the headboard slammed
into the wall, Tiffany let out a scream that sounded like a dry, squeaky fan belt on an old car.
So Ricky stood up, grabbed his jacket, and shouted to the ceiling. “I’m going out. Please
lock the door when you’re done.”
When Leyland stood up, there was a loud knock from above. Then Tiffany screamed out
something the sounded like, “Okay!” But it could have been another moan. On the way out to the garage, Ricky reached for the keys to the minivan on a hook next to
the back door. But he hesitated for a second and removed the keys for the Porsche instead. He
lifted his fist and clenched the keys. He slapped Leyland in the back of the head and said, “Kiss
my fucking ass. We’re not riding around in a minivan tonight.”
* * * *
They drove down Route 46, through Dover, New Jersey, then east toward Denville.
When they reached Wayne, near the Willowbrook Mall, a couple of wise guys in an old Mustang
pulled up to them at a red light and starting making snide comments. One shouted, “Look at the
two pretty boys driving around in daddy’s car.” Another one flipped them the bird and said,
“Aren’t they a cute little couple?”
Ricky had been driving with such care that a rabbi could have circumcised a baby in the
backseat. He’d driven below the speed limit, he’d followed all the rules of the road, and he’d
forced Leyland to wear his seat belt. But when these guys started harassing them, he looked at
Leyland and smiled. Leyland smiled back and nodded. And when the light turned green, while
the guys in the old Mustang were still shouting at them, Ricky slipped the car into first gear, hit
the gas, and took off. The tires screeched. Leyland grabbed the door handle and bit his bottom lip.
By the time the driver of the mustang stepped on his gas, Ricky and Leyland were out of site and
driving up the ramp to Interstate 80.
Instead of taking Route 46 home, they took the interstate. Ricky didn’t want to take any
more chances with his father’s car and taking the interstate was the safest, fastest way home.
When they pulled into the garage, lowered the door, and the car was safely parked, Ricky got out
and took a long, deep breath. But his relief didn’t last long. Leyland walked up to his side and patted his back. “Let’s
go inside and check out that website where they have erotic services listed.”
Ricky gave him a look. “Huh?”
Leyland turned to the door and said, “Look, you’ve been good. You took the Porsche out
tonight. But that’s not enough. You have to open up and start saying ‘kiss my fucking ass’ more
often now.” Then he walked into the house and left Ricky standing there with his arms spread
out and his palms facing forward.
When Ricky went into the kitchen, Leyland was already sitting at the kitchen table with
the laptop open. He did a search for the website that offered erotic services and clicked to the
male/male section. Ricky grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat down across
from him. Though he didn’t want to admit this to Leyland, he was a little curious about this
website, too.
“Listen to this one,” Leyland said. “This guy writes, ‘Twenty-six-year-old looking for hot,
horny young guys. Sixty dollars for one hour. Must be eighteen or older, clean, and disease free.
Not into pain at all. Perfect for beginners. Serving New York and Northern New Jersey. You
host.’” Leyland smiled and wrote down the phone number. “This one is perfect.”
“You
host
?” Ricky asked. Sounded like one of his mother’s Tupperware parties.
“It means he’ll come to you instead of you coming to him, asshole.”
Ricky laughed and shook his head. “The ad is kind of ambiguous. And he didn’t even
include a photo. This is why people from Jersey get bad reputations: they answer online ads like
this!”
Leyland shrugged. “But he’s cheap. The rest all cost over two hundred and fifty an hour.
How bad could he be? He’s only twenty-six, he’s clean, and he sounds responsible when it comes to safe sex. And he’s willing to come to New Jersey. You can’t go wrong. Are you going
to call or should I?” He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and flipped it open.
“No one is going to call,” Ricky said. “This guy could be hideous, asshole dickwad. He
could be a freak or a serial murderer.”
Leyland shrugged and laughed. “So what? Just close your eyes and let him suck you off.
Maybe just get a hand job. You’re not going to marry him, shitface.” He handed his phone to
Ricky.
Ricky sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “No way. I’m not paying for sex. I’d
rather not have it at all.”
“It’s the chance of a lifetime, man,” Leyland said. “He comes right to your door, you play
around for an hour, and you give him sixty bucks. What more could you want?”
“No way.”
Leyland stood up and walked to the other side of the kitchen. “Then I’m calling.”
“Yeah, right,” Ricky said, laughing and waving his hand. He thought Leyland was
bluffing. Like that time Leyland said he’d send a love note to this great-looking guy in school.
He’d chickened out that time, and Ricky knew he’d chicken out this time. Leyland was like that.
He talked a bold game, but rarely ever followed through.
“Watch me dial,” Leyland said. He looked at the paper where he’d written the number,
then dialed.
Ricky still thought he was joking. But when he rattled off Ricky’s name and address to a
voice mail and said, “I’ll be home all night waiting for you,” Ricky jumped up from the table and
ran to where he was standing. “You didn’t just call and leave my name and address with a male prostitute,” Ricky said.
“I know you didn’t do that.”
Leyland smiled and nodded. “It’s for your own good.”
“Call back and cancel,” Ricky said.
“Nope.”
Ricky smiled. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know.”
“Give me the phone and I’ll call back.”
Leyland closed the phone and shoved it down the front of his pants and into his
underwear where he knew Ricky wouldn’t go. “I have to go home.” Then he turned fast and
jogged down the front hall, leaving Ricky standing there with his mouth open and his arms
dangling at his sides.
Chapter Four
Later that night, the doorbell rang and Ricky’s entire body froze. It was one of those long
drawn-out bells that sounded like the chimes in Westminster Abbey. He was sprawled out across
his bed sideways, legs together, toes pointed, and back arched. His laptop sat in front of him, and
his left hand was wrapped around his dick. He’d been jacking to porn about frat guys, using his
left hand this time to make it feel different. No one ever knocked on the front door after nine
o’clock at night. There was an unwritten law about that sort of thing in the suburbs.
The only light in the house came from a small gooseneck lamp on his desk. He released
his dick and closed his laptop. He jumped out of bed, pulled his jeans up and packed his erection
to the right. He squinted and scowled; the head was sensitive because he’d been on the verge of
climax. When he went to the closet to choose a shirt, he decided on a long, loose polo that would
cover his crotch. As he put on his socks and sneakers, his dick remained erect and he wasn’t sure
how long it would take for it to go down. All this fuss just to answer the door.
[M1]
On his way downstairs, he felt a sharp thud in his stomach, as if someone had just
punched him.
He reached for the doorknob and asked, “Who’s there?” in a timid voice. He’d thought
about not answering and pretending no one was home. But that wouldn’t have been right.
Leyland had made the call and this person had come all the way out to New Jersey for nothing.
“It’s Dawn,” a deep voice said. “I’m the one you called earlier.”
Ricky took a deep breath and blinked. He’d been under the impression Leyland had
called a male prostitute, not a female. “
Dawn
?” “That’s what I said, honey.”
It sounded like a man. But what man calls himself Dawn? So Ricky opened the door
slowly. When he looked up his head jerked back and his eyes popped. Standing in his doorway,
in the middle of his neat, cookie-cutter subdivision, was the tallest, blondest she-male he’d ever
seen. Actually, it was the only she-male he’d ever seen in person, up close. Dawn wore a black
knitted mini-dress that hugged every curve in his body, tall black stilettos, and a long brassy
blond wig. His thick, long masculine fingers were tipped with long red nails that curved down
like commas, his pierced ears had long dangling earrings, and his lips were bathed in ruby red lip
gloss.
“Hold on one second,” Ricky said. Then he slammed the door shut and ran into the
kitchen to call Leyland. His hands were shaking and the thud in his stomach grew more intense.
