Can't Buy Me Love

by Chris Kenry

  “Nothing too bad,” he said reassuringly. “We’ll just give him a good scare and then send him on his way.”

  I shook my head doubtfully, but had to admit I was excited.

  “You’d better be careful!” I said. “He’s not some nelly little businessman. He’s big and mean and he moves fast, so don’t take any stupid chances.”

  He nodded impatiently, pushed me into room three, and closed the door.

  The two pairs of handcuffs from the fantasy closet, both lined with fake leopard fur, were laid out neatly on the bed. Marvin unwrapped the stockings, cut off the control-top panties, and gave us each a leg, which we pulled over our heads. Vince unwrapped the rope, and he and Craig mugged and posed in their stockings.

  At nine-thirty-five we heard voices in the hall, and Marvin turned off the lights. We stood silently and watched the screen. In a moment they entered the room. The picture was somewhat grainy, but it was definitely the same guy who had attacked me: tall, dark-haired, and broad-shouldered. Ray closed the door. As it had with me, and as it had with Johnny, the encounter began innocently enough: he and Ray touched, kissed, and had some verbal exchanges, but then Carlyle pulled away and took something from his pants pocket. He held a small vial up to the light and tapped the edge of it with his finger before offering some to Ray. Ray shook his head.

  “What’s he got?” I whispered. “Poppers?”

  “No,” Craig said excitedly. “I think it’s coke!”

  And sure enough we watched amazed as Carlyle calmly tapped some of the powder onto a magazine cover and shaped it into a thin line. Salvatore zoomed in on him. He then rolled up a twenty-dollar bill and deftly snorted the powder up his nose. Again he offered some to a beaming Ray, who politely declined. They kissed again and Carlyle patted Ray on the ass. Then, without any warning, the whole scene changed. He grabbed Ray’s head, kissed him hard, and then threw him down on the bed. He removed his own clothes quickly and, standing naked now, he grabbed Ray by the neck and forced him down toward his ridiculously large cock. About a minute later, Carlyle pulled Ray back, kicked him to the floor, and dragged him over to the bed by his ankles. He pulled him up by the hair, kissed him hard, and then pushed him across the room causing him to hit the wall concealing the camera. We heard Ray’s head hit and all gasped nervously as the mirror rattled but did not fall.

  “This is bad,” Marvin whispered, placing his hand on my shoulder. And it was bad. It was like a horribly one-sided All-Star Wrestling match, and I was horrified as I watched it.

  Ray was now struggling to get away, but Carlyle had him again, this time by one arm, which he twisted sharply behind Ray’s back. He tripped him, and Ray fell face-first onto the floor.

  “Let’s go!” I hissed.

  “No!” Sal said, blocking the doorway with his outstretched arm, his eyes never leaving the screen. “No! He hasn’t given the signal and I need more tape.”

  I looked over at Vince and Craig. Despite their muted features I could tell they were worried too. I looked back at the screen.

  Carlyle had Ray back up and I saw that his nose was bleeding. He turned his head toward the camera consciously and Sal zoomed in, giving a close-up view.

  “See, he’s okay; he’s still working with me.”

  I looked back at Marvin, who was attempting to bite his nails through his stocking.

  Ray was now begging him to stop, repeating again and again, “I said no! Please stop!”

  “Let’s go now!” I said, and Craig moved toward the door. Sal jumped up this time and blocked the door with his body.

  “No! Don’t you see what he’s doing? We need this! This is what makes it rape! Just wait! He’ll give the signal!”

  We held back. Craig fiddled nervously with the rope, and we all leaned in closer to the screen. Ray was on his back now and Carlyle was sitting on his chest. He’d pulled Ray’s legs up in the air, exposing his ass. I looked down, not wanting to watch, but that only made the voices, one pleading, the other rough and degrading, all the more audible. Then Ray’s tone changed and I heard him cry out Sal’s name. I looked up. Carlyle was just about to enter him.

  “Now!” Sal yelled.

  Vince threw open the door and we all burst into the room, adrenaline rushing. From behind me came a deep, guttural scream, and I was pushed aside like a rag doll as Marvin—the Nelly Green Giant, the big sissy—charged past me into the room and pounced on Carlyle’s back. He grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, threw him on the floor, and plopped down on his chest. We were all momentarily stunned.

  “Come on!” Marvin barked up at us. “Get him tied up!”

  We snapped out of our shock and I quickly cuffed Carlyle’s ankles together, while Vince and Craig each took one of his arms, brought them together behind his back, and did the same. Once cuffed, Marvin pulled him up by the hair and led him stumbling over to the bed, where Vince and Craig were now ready with the rope. Until then Carlyle had been too surprised to speak, but now he’d found his voice and he was yelling.

  “You better fucking untie me now, goddamnit! I’m gonna kill you fags when I get out of this!”

  Smack! Marvin’s huge paw came down on Carlyle’s cheek, à la Stanley Kowalski.

  “Shut the fuck up!” he boomed, as all the resentment for the years of schoolyard bullying and merciless teasing bubbled to the surface. Marvin looked around and picked up Ray’s underwear from the floor. He wadded them up and stuffed them in Carlyle’s mouth.

  “That’ll shut you up!”

  I looked around for Ray but he had left the room. We all taunted Carlyle, Vince and Craig pulling the ropes tighter and tighter.

  “We’re all gonna fuck that virgin hole!” Vince said.

  “Yeah, we are!” Craig chimed in. “And without condoms!”

  “Or lube!”

  Carlyle’s eyes flashed wildly, whether from anger or fear I couldn’t tell.

  “Your ass is gonna be wider than the Grand Canyon by the time we’re through with you!”

  Ray appeared a moment later, his face still bloody. He had evidently been to the fantasy closet, because he held in his hands what we jokingly referred to as “the floor model.” It was an impossibly large dildo, resembling a traffic cone more than a penis, and was something Marvin’s/ Chet’s clients liked to be threatened with, but until then it had never been used. Ray tossed it over to a grinning Marvin, who tried to catch it but missed. (Some things you just can’t change.) Then Ray beckoned me into room two and shut the door behind me.

  “Wasn’t that great?” he said, jumping up and down excitedly. I smiled but was still so distressed by what I’d seen on the monitor that I could hardly share his gleeful enthusiasm.

  “Are you all right?” I asked gravely, looking at the blood he’d splattered around. “That scared the crap out of me!” I took him in my arms and held him tightly, oblivious to the blood and the noises from the next room. Not wanting to let go of him and not quite sure why.

  “Yeah, I’m all right,” he said, and I felt his arms encircle me. “I was pretty scared toward the end there, but I’m okay.” He held me tighter and ran his hand up and down my back, and I thought it odd that he seemed to be reassuring me—and that I needed reassuring.

  “I’d better get cleaned up,” he said, pulling back and grinning at me. “I got blood all over your shirt.”

  I led him to the bathroom, sat him on the toilet, and dabbed at his nose with a wet washcloth. It was still bleeding and looked like it might even be broken, and his right eye was beginning to swell. He winced when I touched it, and we both noticed that I was shaking. He took my hand in both of his and held it tightly.

  “You all right?” he asked, smiling.

  “Fine. I just got scared, that’s all. Watching it and not being able to stop it was almost worse. You sure you’re okay?”

  “Never been better!” And he lifted up my chin and kissed me. We heard a crash in the next room.

  “I’m fine,” Ray said, “but I don’t think
our friend is. Maybe we’d better go and call off the beast. Jesus, Marvin scared me more than Carlyle!”

  Back in room two, Carlyle was hog-tied on the floor. Vince and Craig each held an end of the rope while Marvin knelt on the floor in front of Carlyle’s face, vainly trying to stuff the floor model into his mouth.

  Ray flashed the lights on and off.

  “Fun’s over!” he said, and Marvin looked up at him with an expression of true disappointment.

  “Let’s get him out of here.”

  Reluctantly Marvin replaced Carlyle’s underwear gag, and Vince and Craig loosened the rope and removed the handcuffs. They stood him up and Marvin twisted Carlyle’s arm behind his back and escorted him down the hallway and then down the stairs. I went ahead of them and opened the door. Carlyle was struggling, but when he did so Marvin twisted his arm even harder.

  At the bottom of the stairs Marvin stopped, removed the underwear gag, and planted a dainty kiss on Carlyle’s lips and then stuffed the underwear back in his mouth. He then pushed him, still naked, out into the parking lot and stood blocking the door with his arms across his chest. Carlyle got up, pulled Ray’s underwear out of his mouth, and put them on, glaring and cursing. Craig came down the stairs with a pile of clothes and tossed them out to him. We all stood and high-fived as he dressed and then got in his car. As he was pulling away, screaming at us through the windshield, Marvin blew a kiss and gave a feminine little wave.

  The next day the rest of the plan was implemented. Ray and Sal were busy editing the tape so that it showed nothing but Carlyle doing lines and raping Ray, and I was busy getting James ready for his role as a UPS delivery man. The uniform was too big for him, and I was busy trying to pin up the legs so they wouldn’t drag on the ground when he walked. That plain brown uniform was by far the most in demand for fantasies. It had also been the most difficult to come by, and, as I readied it for its use in a blackmail scheme, I realized why.

  Warren had given me the home address of Johnathan Oswald Carlyle the third, so we decided to deliver the tape there. It would have been better, I thought, to deliver it to his place of business, but alas, not surprisingly, he was not currently employed. We wrapped the tape in an old paper grocery sack and made it look official with an address and some smeared rubber stamps. I wanted to write a note, and I thought we should ask for money. After all, he was a Carlyle, and who ever heard of blackmail without money, but I was dissuaded from this by Ray and Sal, who said that was the way to really get into some trouble. This way we had nothing linking us to the tape and, after all, it was just supposed to scare him.

  I completed James’s outfit with a brown baseball hat and clipboard, on which I attached a pad of the official-looking graph paper Hole made me use to chart my monthly financials. Then we got in my car and I drove him to the address. It was in lower downtown, near the baseball stadium, and not all that far from the building where Andre and Hole lived. James went to the door, was buzzed in quickly, and then disappeared. I was scared as I waited, since I hadn’t even considered what to do if he didn’t come out again. Should I go in after him? Call the police? But as I sat there worrying I didn’t even notice James skipping from the building toward the car. He opened the door, jumped in, and I drove off as quickly as I could.

  “Oh, my God, that was fun!” He panted, removing the cap and shaking out his long mane.

  “Was he there?” I asked anxiously. “Did you see him?”

  “He was there, all right, and he’ll probably be there for a while. At least until his face heals. His jaw’s all swollen and he’s got a big scrape on his forehead.”

  “That must be from the parking lot,” I said, thinking back to the night before. “And he didn’t suspect anything?”

  “Not a thing. Look,” he said, proudly showing me the clipboard. “Got a signature and everything.”

  It did not take long for Carlyle to respond. We had not even returned to the office when my cell phone rang. I answered it and out came a barrage of threats and profanity. He was so angry he was not even making sense, and all I got was some shrieking that sounded like “Fuckin’ kill prick bastards!” and “Lawyers, police, nail you to wall!”

  I held the phone away from my ear and looked wearily at James.

  “I think he watched the tape,” I said.

  “Johnathan!” I yelled, but he went on. “Johnathan Oswald Carlyle the third,” I singsonged. “Please stop cursing, or I’ll have to hang up.”

  He went on:

  “You’re all gonna fuckin’ fry when the police get hold of you, you fuckin’ assholes! Blackmail me! You’re gonna pay like you never paid before!”

  I grew annoyed by this spoiled-brat tantrum and swerved sharply into an alley, skidding the car to a stop.

  “Now you listen to me!” I yelled, startling James. “If you want all that publicity then you go to the police! Go right ahead! I understand they know you pretty well. I’m sure they’d love to watch a tape of you soliciting prostitution, snorting coke, and committing rape. I’m sure Daddy and Grandpa would love it even more, and imagine the press you’d get! Just imagine! ‘Carlyle heir caught in another, yes, yet another messy scandal!’ Reporters dream of a person like you fucking up! And you have, my friend. You have fucked up royally! If I ever even catch wind of you roughing anyone up again, you can bet the police, your family, and the press will all receive their own personal copies of your film debut.”

  I hung up, and couldn’t help thinking how terribly unsatisfying it is to hang up on someone with a cell phone. There’s no cradle on which to slam down the receiver. Just the push of a button and bye-bye. I took a deep breath and looked over at an astonished James.

  “Dude, that was awesome!”

  I was nervous for a while after that, but Ray assured me nothing would come of it, and when a week passed and nothing did, I relaxed a bit and went on with the daily routine. In addition to turning tricks, we finished editing Missionary Positions, and were waiting for the packaged tapes to come back from the manufacturer. I was also working closely with Hole on my quarterly taxes and the final draft of my business plan for submission to the microbusiness review board.

  As planned we all went down to the free clinic to get tested for STDs. Johnny was worried about his results, but all the guys rallied around to support him, telling stories of their scary experiences with the HIV test that had come out okay in the end. We all got HIV tests, of course, but while we were there I thought it would be a good idea if we also got tested for the big three: syphilis, gonorrhea, and chlamydia. The tests for all three can now be administered by simply drawing blood, but this is a recent innovation and was not available when we got tested. Then it was still done by taking cultures from the inside of the penis, which are obtained by inserting a tiny metal Q-tip up into the urethra and scraping the sides. It is as excruciatingly painful as it sounds, and even now I cringe just thinking about it. On that day I’m afraid I did more than cringe. The nurse drew my blood for the HIV test with no problem. Then I stood up, dropped my drawers, and she went to work with her sharp swabs. The first one was bad; I gritted my teeth and my eyes teared up. The second was worse, and I felt sweat break out on my upper lip and forehead. Of the third I remember only the sharp pain as she jabbed it in with as much gentle tenderness as a jackhammer operator. The next thing I knew someone was shining a light first in one eye, then the other. My head hurt terribly.

  “Jaaack.”

  I squinted my eyes open. There was a very bright light overhead and I could see some fuzzy figures shuffling around me.

  “Where am I?” I asked groggily.

  A soft, lilting voice responded, “Why, you’re in heaven.” A voice that despite its sweetness sounded very familiar.

  I sat up quickly and looked around. My sister Carey stood beside me, laughing hysterically.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to the aged doctor on my other side, who was regarding her with an annoyed expression. “I’ve always wanted to say that, and he is my
brother.”

  “You’re in the emergency room,” the doctor said soberly, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You passed out in the clinic and hit your head on the filing cabinet, so they brought you over here to have it checked out.”

  He shone the penlight in my eyes again.

  “It doesn’t look like you have a concussion, but why don’t you rest here awhile and I’ll check back on you in a few minutes.”

  He left, and Carey and I were alone.

  “You bitch,” I said, smiling and rubbing the bump on my head.

  “I’m sorry.” She laughed. “I couldn’t help myself.”

  I lay back down.

  “You have quite the attractive fan club in the waiting room,” she said. “Two of them, a big guy dressed like Paul Bunyan and a skinny guy in gloves, got so pushy we had to call security. They’re waiting outside.”

  I groaned, but laughed slightly as I pictured Ray and Marvin.

  “What’s going on, Jack? Who are all these guys?” she asked.

  I rubbed my head. “Subcontractors,” I mumbled.

  “What?”

  “Just some of my friends. We all came down together to get HIV tests.”

  “You don’t think you have it, do you?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

  I shook my head. “No, but it never hurts to get tested, eh?”

  She looked at me, trying to read my face, and for a while we said nothing. The doctor returned, looked at my eyes again, and said that when I felt like it I was free to go. I got up and tried my legs. Carey helped me to the door and to the waiting room, where all the guys crowded around me asking if I was all right. I nodded and introduced Carey.

  “Guys, this is my twin sister, Carey.” They all went silent and glanced nervously back and forth at one another. Carey looked questioningly at me. I shrugged.

  “Did everyone get their tests?” I asked. They nodded.

  “Good,” I said. “Then I guess we can head back.” I kissed Carey on the cheek and knew she’d be grilling me about all this again, probably before the day was over.