Taking In Strays (9 page)

“Thank you,” Peter finally said as he stood up and carried his dishes to the sink. He rinsed them out, but didn’t wash them completely, leaving them in the sink. Turning to Donny, he yawned and scratched fingers through his crew cut.

“I don’t want to seem rude,” Peter said, sounding as tired as he looked, “but I’m beat. I need to get some sleep.”

“It’s not rude at all,” Donny assured him. “You go ahead. See you at breakfast.”

Peter nodded, still looking apologetic, and then headed off to his bedroom. He stretched and yawned as he walked, joints popping and muscles rippling. Donny watched him go with his mouth open slightly, appreciating the show.

When his door closed firmly behind Peter, Donny was off to his own bedroom, definitely needing to
take care of business
. Not even feeling miserable could stop a rock hard erection and a building need to shoot his load.

Peter’s show of pure masculinity was front and center in Donny’s fantasy as he shoved down his pants, palmed his erection, and leaned one hand on the bed as steadied himself to jack off. He imagined grabbing Peter and shoving up his tank top. He imagined licking and kissing that wonderful skin, mouthing a pebble hard nipple, and nuzzling under the man’s arm to smell his rich scent. Peter would moan, free an impressive cock, and let it bob free, dripping fluid, as Donny ran hands over him and prepared to—

Donny groaned, deep and low. It was almost a whine of frustration as he filled his hand with hot come. He had wanted a longer session. Turning and sitting down on the bed, he felt light headed, breathing hard and wondering what the hell had happened to his strength. Looking at his dripping hand, he felt grateful that at least that part of him was working.

There was a knock on the door that startled Donny.

“Are you all right, Donny? I thought I heard something…”

Donny looked at his dripping hand. His cock shrank in trepidation as if ashamed. He didn’t think that he had been that loud, but his release had been strong and the subject of his fantasy extremely hot.

“I’m--” Donny’s voice went hoarse. He cleared his throat and finished as he levered himself off the bed and headed for the bathroom, “I’m fine, Peter. There’s nothing to worry about.”

He turned on the water and washed his hands in the sink.

“Okay,” Peter said, still sounding worried. “Call me if you need me.”

Peter’s footsteps retreated down the hall as Donny turned off the water and leaned on the sink. “I needed you a couple of minutes ago,” he sighed and then studied his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror.

He looked flushed with sex and tired. He raked still wet fingers through his wild, dark hair and watched the drops drip down his face.

“He doesn’t want you,” Donny whispered to himself harshly. “He’s never going to want you. Get out of his life.”

It was like whispered magic; an oath to get his act together and to stop making the people around him disappointed and miserable. Starting tomorrow, he would get out and test himself. He would call Dan and set up that appointment for a job interview. He would find another place to live. He would pretend that he was totally recovered, whatever it cost him.

Chapter Five

The next day, Donny stayed in bed until ten a.m.

Listening to Peter make his breakfast, shower and dress, and close the front door firmly behind him to go to work, gave Donny a great deal of time to convince himself not to see the man before he left for the day. It wasn’t easy. Wanting to see Peter’s kind face, those blue eyes, and hear that deep voice make small talk was part of it. Seeing Peter spit and polish in his uniform, gun in its holster, night stick at the ready, and with cuffs tucked on his belt, had a definite appeal as well.

“You’ve got it bad,” Donny muttered to himself as he put on the best hand-me-down clothes that Dan had provided for him and tried to not look as sick as he felt. That was the reason for avoiding Peter that morning. If Peter reported to Dan that Donny was still sick, then it might be days before Dan would let Donny do any of the things that would make him independent.

A phone call to Dan, with a glass of water close to hand in case his voice became rough with sickness, was something that Donny attempted before his late breakfast.

“Dr. Daniel Parker. How may I help you?”

“Uh,” Donny almost swore as he had to clear his voice. He took a drink of water, and then tried again. “This is Donny.”

“Donny!” Dan seemed genuinely pleased to hear from him. “Is there anything that I can help you with?”

“Yeah, there is.” Donny locked down on his courage and said, “I feel really good today.  I want that job interview and I’m ready to start looking for a place to live. Can you set those things up for me?”

“Today?” There was incredulity in Dan’s voice. “I saw you yesterday. You didn’t look so hot.”

Didn’t
and
hot
were two unfortunate words to place in that last sentence. It made Donny rake back his hair with his fingers and straighten self consciously. “I took it easy and slept a lot last night,” Donny replied. “I don’t feel sick at all this morning.”

Dan seemed apprehensive about that claim. “I could drop by again for lunch and take a look for myself?”

“And lose most of the day?” Donny pressed. “I’m fine, really. How hard can an interview be? I sit. I answer questions. I go back home.” Donny winced. No, not home, he thought sourly. This wasn’t his home. It was Peter’s.

Donny heard the sound of paper shuffling and then Dan said, “Hold a minute while I make a few phone calls.”

“I’m good. Go ahead,” Donny replied.

While easy listening music serenaded him, Donny gratefully reached for the tissue to blow his nose.

Finally the music cut off and Dan said, “Peter told me that he didn’t see you this morning. That you were still sleeping when he left. Didn’t I tell you yesterday not to rush things? You can’t succeed if you set yourself up for failure, Donny. Trying to deal with a job and moving into a new home is stressful enough without doing it while you’re ill. I’ve also told you that you can’t work handling food if you’re sick.”

“I feel fine, Dan,” Donny lied. “I’m all right, really I am. Please, set me up for the interview.”

“I did, but I don’t feel right about this,” Dan complained. “You have an interview at The Capresian seafood bistro at 2:00 p.m. If you need a ride, I’ll pick you up and take you there.”

“No, I can get there on my own,” Donny assured him, though he wasn’t feeling as confident as he sounded. “Give me the address.” After Dan gave it to him, he asked, “About that place to stay…?”

“I think you should get the position first at the bistro,” Dan replied. “I’ve only found some rental sharing situations. You’ll need proof that you can pay rent on your room.”

“Of course,” Donny agreed, though inwardly he was feeling just how low he had fallen. The climb back up wasn’t going to be in leaps and bounds. It was going to be in the company of men packed into a rental sharing arrangement, working a job cleaning fish, most likely, and dressed in hand-me-down clothing that didn’t fit him.

“Interview tips,” Dan said, shaking Donny out of his moment of self absorption. “Make eye contact. Shake hands firmly. Dress as best you can. Take any job they give you. If you do well, they’ll eventually give you a better position. Show up on time, work hard, and look interested.”

Donny would have like to retort that he didn’t want to move up in a fish bistro, but his self esteem had taken enough knocks by now that he wasn’t sure that finding something else later was going to be an option.

“I’ll make you proud,” Donny replied and half meant it as a joke. Dan took it seriously.

“I’m proud of you for pointing yourself in the right direction, Donny. I’ll be even prouder when you succeed at turning your life around for the better. Call me after the interview, all right?”

“All right,” Donny replied and wondered at the tightness of emotion in his chest. Did he really care that much for Dan’s approval? His interest in Peter’s opinion was understandable, but this man was almost a stranger.

It was awkward hanging up. Donny stammered something that sounded lame, unsure how to express himself when he was so confused. Dan didn’t seem to mind. He said goodbye with his usual cheerfulness.

Donny had chosen a sky blue polo shirt that was a little worn at the collar and a pair of khaki pants that looked like Dockers, but were actually some knockoff brand. He considered everything that he put on too good for interviewing for a job that probably entailed cleaning fish or scraping plates, but he was bowing to Dan’s expertise. Maybe the bistro liked well dressed fish gutters?

The son of the Mayor was going to have a job gutting fish. If anyone found out, Donny had the feeling that his father might have a strong negative reaction. A fleeting thought was discarded almost as quickly. Donny doubted that any embarrassment could induce his father to take him back. He would suspect that Donny was embarrassing him on purpose. Buckling under that kind of blackmail wasn’t in his father’s DNA. More than likely, he would keep calling Donny an imposter and photoshop pictures of him in South America with loving non-existent relatives.

Black hair combed flat, wiry body in plain clothing, and tissue stuffed into a pocket, Donny didn’t think anyone would recognize the always well dressed, edgy looking son of the Mayor. People who used to know him wouldn’t believe for a second that he would decide to take a job like this one. He could hardly believe it himself.

Pausing in front of the open door to Peter’s room, Donny found himself looking inside for the first time. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed tightly. Donny’s room might have been livened up by a painting, but this room was all Peter’s. Dark browns and creams ruled from the bedspread to the carpet. The wood of the dresser and the nightstand was a dark mahogany.  Donny didn’t find it boring, though. Instead, it was comforting, masculine, and illustrative of a man who had a career that gave him all the excitement that he needed. When he came home, Donny realized, Peter probably enjoyed winding down in a soothing décor.

The bed was made, but had a depression in the blanket on one edge, as if Peter had sat there while putting on his shoes. Donny found it hard to resist the urge to put his hands there, to lie down and… what? Curl up on that spot like a cat finding a warm spot?

Donny blushed and turned away. He was just desperate for a lifeline, he told himself. He didn’t want to go it alone, or find out that he just couldn’t cut it out there without his father’s money and influence. Peter was the perfect target for a man who wanted to cling. Peter was strong, competent, and more than willing to take care of Donny. Donny didn’t doubt that he could use Peter ruthlessly and the man would probably let him. It’s what Dan feared and was determined to prevent. His attraction to Peter would fade, Donny was certain, once he was working and supporting himself. He would wonder why he had even looked twice at the man, when someone like Peter had never been a blip on his radar before.

His thoughts rang false, but Donny ignored an inner sarcasm that wondered why he bothered lying to himself. Instead, he decided to go to his interview early. Not only would it take time to find a way there, but Donny didn’t want to walk straight in without knowing what sort of place he was interviewing for. It might, he thought, be a place where even someone as desperate as himself, might not want to work.

Donny was almost disappointed when the bistro turned out to be clean, well established, and serving an upper middle class clientele. It was a broad faced brownstone, squatting between more elegant high rises. It had either been a warehouse in another incarnation, or a great deal of money had been spent in creating that wharf side façade of worn wood, gray decking, and windows that were uniform and utilitarian. The sign was a stark contrast, a beautiful affair that read, in elegant gold script, The Capresian Bistro.

Donny blew his nose and dropped the used tissue into a bin as people on the crowded sidewalk moved around him. He watched the bistro from across the busy street, working up his nerve, as the employees moved tables and chairs outside. It wasn’t open for business yet. That was actually reassuring. Donny was nervous enough without having to navigate through a crowd of diners.

“Hey, sweetheart,” a man said as he came to stand very close to Donny. He was dark, tall, and had wide shoulders under his expensive suit. His tight cap of dark hair had been decorated with tribal designs on the sides and a diamond glittered from one ear. His deep, dark eyes seemed almost feral as he sized Donny up like a potential meal.

“Not interested,” Donny growled and moved a step away, hunched his shoulders, and jammed his hands into his pants pockets.

“Don’t be that way,” the man crooned and leaned a little to be at Donny’s height. “You look like you’ve been on the street for awhile. You’re so thin and pale. I can get you some steady cash. You have an interesting look. People at my club get bored with the same menu of buff boys.”

He was a well dressed pimp, Donny realized with a sick feeling in his stomach. The man had mistaken Donny for someone out on the street and desperate. Was he that obvious? His next question of ‘
why was a pimp in a well to do district?’
was answered when the man took a step closer and put a friendly hand on Donny’s shoulder. He said, as if telling Donny a secret, “I just delivered one of my boys to a client. If you do well in the club, I can put you in the beds of wealthy men and women who will show their appreciation with their bank accounts. I assure you, this isn’t a seedy, hole in the wall, sex market. My establishment is well known for its professional standards. That’s why we’re preferred among those in well to do circles.”

He looked familiar. Donny groped for that elusive memory. He found it when the man laughed in a light, melodic way that was obviously practiced. He had been at one of his father’s boring parties. Boring because his father only invited stuffed shirt politician’s and businessmen who could further his ambitions. Donny had avoided them religiously, refusing to be trotted out like a prize colt and introduced as his father’s
heir
. Donny remembered hurrying through the well appointed grand hall of their home, to avoid that very thing, when the pimp’s laugh had caught his attention.