Served With a Twist

by Jet Lupin

  Copyright © 2019 by Jet Lupin. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical

  means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The

  only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Jet Lupin with stock photo by Unsplash

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely

  coincidental.

  Not to be redistributed.

  Jet Lupin

  Visit my website at www.jetlupin.me

  Other books by Jet Currently Available

  Nasu

  Enrai

  Chapter 1

  “S

  ee you tomorrow.”

  Cut waved at his coworker’s back as she hurried down the street. He was eager to get home before the dome light powered off for the day. The nights were stretching on longer, while the days got shorter. He wasn’t ready for the seasons to change, but this crazy world they’d settled on didn’t care what he liked, and neither, it seemed, did anything else.

  Tonight really felt like it was going to be “the one” with that regular who always came in wearing fancy suits. A real sharper. Flirting with the patrons wasn’t exactly looked upon favorably by the management, but if the right customer wanted to slip Cut their number, he’d risk getting chewed out by the boss. Fancy Suit was the right kind of customer. Tall, golden brown skin, and eyes that reminded Cut of spring storms back home—his favorite kind of weather. Those eyes had been all over Cut tonight, watching his every move for hours. Then, he left without saying a word.

  Cut hadn’t imagined those looks. Nearly every time Cut glanced his way, the suit’s eyes were on him, before he hurried to look somewhere else. Maybe he’d come to his senses. What did Cut have to offer someone like that, anyway? Certainly not money or height. His charm had gotten him this far, but there was only so much it could do. At least Fancy Suit had left a tip behind.

  He wasn’t anything to sneeze at, either. He took care of his deep copper skin, and though he wasn’t the biggest or the fittest guy around, put him in the right outfit and even the suit would be panting after him. But visually, he didn’t stand out and there wasn’t much he was willing to do to change that. There were mods to make him taller than 5’6, to change his eyes from their deep brown to any fantastic color he chose, but despite how others saw him, he liked himself. They had to get with the program or get gone.

  Not sealing the deal with Fancy Suit Hot Ass had dampened his mood some, but it wasn’t going to keep him from Cut’s mind. He’d looked so good it hurt. The suit he wore tonight was one Cut had never seen before. It was a steely gray blazer and pants with a charcoal colored shirt underneath. Like all his clothes, it was tailored to hug his broad frame. Even if the man had never spoken a word to Cut, he would have fallen in love with the way those suits hung on him. It seemed like he came by straight after work, his slicked back hair starting to curl in rebellion of the product that had held it in place all day; the top buttons on his shirt undone let his neck breathe and revealed a few wisps of trimmed chest hair. He always came alone, always sat at the bar, thick forearms resting on the counter. He always got the same cocktail—a whiskey sour with extra sour mix—and he sipped it for the entire visit. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, he was always pleasant, if a little tired. But he hadn’t had to speak at all. Cut was grateful for the chance to ogle him. He was like something out of a fashion magazine. Way out of Cut’s league.

  Cut had to be careful. Weeks without a better partner than his left hand (and occasionally the right) had him getting hard at the slightest suggestion of anything naughty and that man provided so much fuel for naughty thoughts.

  Cut paused a moment to find a better resting place for his burgeoning boner and then he was on his way.

  Working in the 800 block of the Rose District wasn’t the most lucrative job, but it meant he spent less on his commute, which meant more money in his savings account. The domed colony Izanami had been a fun way to burn through what had been left of his twenties, but Cut was coming up on 33. With nothing holding him here, it was time to consider his next move, or he’d be turning 40 before he knew it. And he wanted to move upward, not just forward.

  The 800s weren’t so bad. They butted up against the 900s, the start of the Heights where the money lived, yet was close enough to the Burrow that everyone else called home. That might be the place to search for a job that paid enough that he could actually save money. He had to look the part first. That meant clothes, getting rid of his jewelry, and maybe his hair too. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that level of change, but it was something to think about.

  Cut’s place was in the Castor District, a 20-minute walk away if he stuck to the main paths, but darting through one of the long alleys that separated the Rose and Ether districts, the haves from the have-nots, shaved it down to a neat 15.

  As he came up on the alley’s entrance, he noticed the people walking by it picked up speed, their gazes fixed forward, never wavering in its direction. He didn’t blame them for ignoring it. Despite lying in the shadow of one of the wealthiest blocks in the colony, it was a place of ill repute. If you were banned from the brothels, or you wanted something less than legal, and you didn’t care about how it was procured, you came here.

  He stopped at the alley’s mouth, looking back the way he came. From here, it was impossible to tell the difference between the districts. Who had the money? Who didn’t? From the people walking by, it was hard to tell except for those who were making an effort. In his little neighborhood back on Earth, that’s how it worked; everyone was equal, no one better than the other, but wherever there were people in large numbers, there was inequity. Not ten years ago, this had been considered the frontier. Little by little, it was becoming like the world he’d left behind. At least he was able to keep himself fed now. That was the important thing.

  On a normal evening he powered right through, keeping his eyes to himself, but tonight he intended to make a purchase. Thoughts of that regular would keep him up, if he let them. He’d take care of it, but the comedown afterward was so… depressing. After the moment had passed, he’d remember that he was sleeping in that cold bed alone. It almost made jerking off not worth it. But not tonight.

  He’d get some Lift to take before and by the end, he’d be too buzzed to be sad about his current lot in life.

  He made his living interacting with other people, yet they remained a mystery to him. You could never know fully what went on in someone else’s head; what they were thinking, what they wanted, but a lot of the time. Trying to figure it out was exhausting and futile, which was why, for going on a year now, he hadn’t been in a committed relationship. That didn’t mean his experience with casual things was much better. Those were as tricky to maneuver as the odd, empty feeling that hounded him afterward. He knew he was stuck and had to make a concession one way or another. He just didn’t know how.

  He walked slowly, scanning either side of the alley for someone who looked like they were dealing, but were in it for the money rather than the trouble. Everyone was sketchy here, including Cut, but dealers were on another level. They wanted to stand out, and they did the most to accomplish it. They often had color shifting tattoos on their faces and tinted eyes. There was no telling the clubbers apart from the bored, spoiled brats who liked to pretend that they needed to be out here, so public security tended to leave them alone. Locking
up the wrong kids was trouble they didn’t need. As long as there was no dealing in front of them, the Green Stripes turned a blind eye.

  A dealer found Cut first and waved him over. She was easily six feet, and her tall neon orange hair added another four or five inches. She wore shades even though the station was powering down for daytime hours, the lights dimming around them. She tipped her shades down and raked Cut over with an appreciative gaze. As if he needed another reason for his cock to be uncomfortable. He hadn’t caught a look like that in months. Too bad she was on the job.

  “What are you in the mood for, hot lips?” Her breathy voice registered as sultry to Cut’s ear. “I’ve got it all: sparkle, moonstone, daydream. What’s your poison, baby?”

  Hot lips? That was a new one. “Lift. Just a few grams.”

  She fell quiet a moment, the inside of her shades casting light on her face as she connected to the net. “You mean moonstone. I’ve got you.” They were always changing the names of these things. Cut made a mental note of the updated vernacular for however long that lasted. “Five grams’ll run you about 50 ICD, but I’ll knock it down to 40 ‘cause you’re so cute.” She winked at him before she reached into a pouch at her waist and pulled out a baggie filled with small periwinkle pebbles. “I’ll even throw in a dazzler for free. To remember me by.” She opened the bag and dropped a red tablet inside.

  There was also a small square card affixed to the outside of the bag with the hieroglyphs of her barcode printed on it. If the stuff was good, Cut would scan the code and add her to his contacts. Fifty was a hell of a price, but if it was worth it, she’d have a regular customer. For all the cloak and dagger, this was still easier than getting the legal equivalent.

  He brought up his forearm and transferred 40 ICD from his pod. She scanned it, and once the transaction was complete, she smiled again. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

  Cut tucked the baggie into an inner jacket pocket and kept going. Lingering wasn’t a good idea. Anyone who caught a whiff of what little money he had was bound to try to sell him something he didn’t need, or worse. He wanted to get home to his empty apartment, take care of business, and fall sleep, in that order.

  As the end of the alley neared, he started to speed up when someone darted out of an offshoot and barreled into his shoulder, almost knocking him to the floor. There was no way the guy missed him, no matter their difference in stature. The guy gawked at Cut as he got to his feet, as if he was seeing him for the first time. Cut silently egged him on, wanting him to make the first move, but he turned back around and continued on his way. Cut sucked his teeth. “Prick.”

  He dusted himself off and was ready to continue on his way when something down the offshoot caught his eye. He walked over to the object and flipped it over with the toe of his boot. It was a brown leather shoe, real leather by the feel of it. He picked it up and just ahead was its mate. He kept walking, collecting items as he went. He found a cross-body bag made of more expensive leather too, a pod encased in a thick protective purple shell, and a deep gray jacket that was oddly familiar. He bent to pick up the jacket when a sound from up ahead startled him into dropping it. Was someone in trouble? Or was it some sort of secret rendezvous? Either way, he ought to check. Just to be sure.

  He crept further down the offshoot. The sounds got louder as he neared the bend. Groaning, guttural voices saying things he couldn’t quite make out were… Was someone fucking back there?

  There were at least two people, but there might have been more. He could barely handle one partner at a time. He would have been impressed if they weren’t in some filthy fucking alley. The whole situation was a hard pass for him.

  If all these items belonged to the participants, they’d hopefully be grateful that their stuff hadn’t gotten stolen. He set all the items in a pile right at the corner. Good deed for the year done. He’d go on his way, and not peek in on people getting it on, live and in the likely sweaty, writhing flesh. Their bodies slick against each other as they worked together for release…

  Maybe he should check to be absolutely sure…

  His boots soundlessly met concrete as he crept towards the edge. Slowly, he stuck his head around the corner for a better look.

  Two rough-looking men stood over a third who was on was knees to the floor, his skin slick with sweat. The standing men had their cocks out, shoving them into the kneeling man’s face. One man’s thick calloused fingers gripped the bottom’s hair firmly, while the other held one of the bottom’s wrists. The kneeling man’s free hand was braced on of the other men’s legs, whether to hold himself up or pushing away, Cut couldn’t tell from here. His shirt hung in tatters from his waistband.

  In some part of Cut’s mind, peeping on a scene like this should have been hot. A stacked guy taking on two comers? Cut had seen his share of videos like that on wank sites. But something about this felt different. Wrong. The bottom’s back had red marks on it, and he was dirty as if he’d been rolling around on the ground. His feet were bare. Cut glanced back at the found items. Were all of these things his? This looked like a robbery turned into something more sinister.

  What stopped Cut from charging in was the chance he was reading the situation wrong and this was all part of an elaborate scene. People were into some weird shit. He might interrupt and piss some people off if he got involved. But if he did nothing, this guy might get hurt.

  When one of the men yanked on a fistful of dark, curly hair, that made the bottom yelp in pain as he tried to twist out of his grasp, the decision was made for Cut.

  These alleys were a dumping ground for all sorts of unwanted things. It didn’t take long for him to lay hands on a length of discarded pipe. It was going to be two on one—Cut wasn’t counting on the big guy to be of any help. Catch them off guard was the only way he’d be able to break this up. And it didn’t seem like they’d noticed him yet.

  Cut held his weapon level, ready to swing if it came down to it. He took a deep breath, and ran around the corner shouting at the top of his lungs. He threw a little bass in for good measure. “Hey!” The sound of his own voice echoing back at him startled him, but he pressed forward. “Back off!”

  The men didn’t spare time to look up and access the situation. They released the man, turned, and ran towards the other end of the offshoot. With nothing left to hold him up, the man collapsed to his hands and knees.

  He let the head of the pipe hit the ground and loosened a hand from around it, his joints aching from the strength of his grip. He flexed his fingers and touched the man on the shoulder. “You alright?” Cut leaned a closer to see if any damage had been done to his face, but wound up falling on his ass instead.

  It was the sharper from the bar!

  Fancy Suit Hot Ass!

  The man sat up slowly and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He stared down at Cut. Between them was a very angry, very dark erection. Fancy Suit turned his back to Cut as he hurriedly tucked himself away. “Why did you do that?” His voice was croaky and raw.

  If Cut hadn’t already been on the ground, the man’s words would have put him there. Cut used the pipe to get on his feet. “You mean saving you? Those guys—”

  “I paid them to do that.” Fancy Suit continued to kneel, his face turned away.

  Cut sputtered. “You paid them? To do what? Kick your ass?”

  “No… not that part,” Fancy Suit said, kneeling, avoiding eye contact. “Things just got a little out of hand.”

  Cut would rather have this conversation eye-to-eye. He extended his hand and, surprisingly, the man took it and used it to stand. Cut had to tilt his head back to keep his eyes on his face. For an instant, he thought he saw recognition flicker in Fancy Suit’s eyes, but then he turned away again, as if nothing had happened.

  “You shouldn’t pick up strangers around here.” Cut wouldn’t have recommended picking up strangers at all, but he was trying really hard not to judge. Intellectually, he understood kink, that
there were people into some…stuff, that he would have found distasteful, but as long as they kept it to themselves, it wasn’t any of his business. “Safe and sane” was the credo he’d heard associated with that, if he was remembering right, but Fancy Suit’s actions had been neither safe nor sane. Not simply because of whatever nasty bug you could pick up, but because he was so obviously wealthy. One needed only to look at his accessories to size him up. Those men had probably had his measure from the first words they’d said to each other. It was only a matter of time before they demanded something he couldn’t give.

  “If you’re going to do this, be smarter about it,” Cut said.

  The man stalked over to where Cut had dropped his belongings and snatched them up from the ground. “Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do with myself?” he said, his voice warbling badly.

  Of course he’d take this poorly, some rando breaking up his fun, and lecturing him. Cut wasn’t always this preachy. But Cut was no one and knew nothing about him. Not even his real name. But that didn’t mean he was wrong for not wanting to see someone—even a stranger—endanger themselves the way he had done.

  That’s what he was thinking, but that’s not what came out of his mouth.

  “I’m someone who can help you do that sort of thing safely.”

  Fancy Suit stopped, his fingers tense on his blazer’s buttons. “How is it you think that you can help me?” he asked quietly.

  Cut looked him in the eye, and for the first time, the man held his gaze. There was no denying that this was Fancy Suit from the bar. “You already know the answer to that.”

  Cut didn’t know the answer to that. He had next to no experience with kink, let alone this specific one. He didn’t know why he was digging himself deeper into this hole but in that moment, he would have said anything to get this guy out of here and on his way home. This felt like the right thing to do, more so than anything he’d done in his life to date. He clenched his hands at his sides, bracing for Fancy Suit to call him on his bullshit.