Hipster Brothel (contemporary gay romance)

by K. A. Merikan

  “Oh, really?” Mr. A shook his head and pointed to the box on the ground. “Do they include crawling back to my place? Because you’ve left an awful lot of stuff.”

  Jo leaned against the side of the door, and the acidity of his gaze should have melted Mr. A in an instant. “If you’re only here to give him his stuff, why didn’t you leave yet? Can’t you see we’re busy?”

  Mr. A frowned at him. “That’s between Mr. B and me. Why don’t you get lost?”

  A fire started in the pit of Mr. B’s stomach. “Don’t you talk that way to him! And he’s right. You could have just called and told me to pick up my stuff.”

  Mr. A pointed to the train car. “I know you hardly have any signal here, so I wanted to be helpful, but this is exactly what your problem is, B. You were surprised I was looking outside of our relationship when you always spend time with him. Jo this, Jo that.”

  Mr. B was embarrassed for Jo to have to witness this, but there was no way around it now. “Well, we’re not fucking.”

  Mr. A shook his head. “That’s beside the point. You claim I abandoned you, but it’s your heart that wasn’t in our relationship for a while now. But now you can be clingy with whomever you want, and I won’t have to endure your accusatory stares. Staying apart will be better for both of us, and someone had to be a man and make that decision.”

  “Good!” Mr. B choked out. “Being tied down was in the way of my new business venture anyway!”

  “Well, good for you. What kind of business will that be?”

  Mr. B licked his lips and stole a glance at Jo. “I will be selling the ‘Lumbersexual Experience’,” he said and raised his eyebrows. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I think having a boyfriend was blocking me from taking the plunge.”

  Mr. A chewed on this for a few seconds. “So you’re gonna be an escort.”

  “Y-yes.” Mr. B raised his chin, hoping his beard wasn’t too messy to look respectable, even if there was water trickling from the hairs and onto his chest. “But it will be much more than that. We’ll be decking out the train car, we’ll have a tobacco bar, some good books for chilling out...”

  “We?” Mr. A laughed out loud. “Is Jo gonna be your pimp? This is precious.”

  Jo walked down one step but didn’t go all the way to the grass, strategically remaining with his head just that bit higher than Mr. A’s. “How such a douchebag could ever catch Mr. B’s attention is beyond me.”

  Mr. A rolled his eyes, as if that comment did nothing to him. “Whatever. If the experience has good enough reviews, I might pop in myself to have a taste of it. You know how it is, nothing tastes as good as something old trimmed with a bit of something new.”

  Jo snorted. “As if. You won’t be able to afford Mr. B.”

  Mr. B nodded. “And it will be exclusive anyway. I’m not a fucking slot machine. I’ll be choosing who I approve to stay with me. Like they do on Airbnb.”

  Mr. A shook his head. “More like Airbrothel.”

  “Just go, okay? Take the hint, A,” hissed Jo, and Mr. A finally stepped back, raising both his hands, as if to show he was giving up.

  “Update me on your progress, Mr. B.”

  Mr. B didn’t have anything left to say, so he just watched Mr. A turn the corner and waited until he heard the engine start again. He took a deep breath, letting tension out along with all negative thoughts. What a disaster.

  Jo’s hand slid down his forearm, slowing down at his wrist, but then Jo’s fingers curled around his hand and squeezed. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just bitter.”

  Mr. B grasped Jo’s hand, trying not to feel weird about standing next to him naked. At least after the encounter with Mr. A he wasn’t afraid he’d get turned on. But then he remembered how in the shower Jo had stood so close to him, how his own thoughts had drifted to kissing Jo, and he slipped his fingers out of Jo’s grasp.

  “Oh, my God, Jo. I’m sorry about the shower. No wonder Mr. A was getting ideas. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. You know I’d never perv on you, right?”

  “Right. Don’t worry. I don’t care what he thinks,” Jo said, but he pulled his tunic a bit lower down his naked legs.

  Uncomfortable was the last thing Mr. B wanted Jo to feel around him. “He was just being an asshole, trying to create a rift between us.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Jo said and gave Mr. B a somewhat forced smile.

  Mr. B needed to watch himself more. There was nothing wrong with appreciating Jo’s physique, but the sudden drumming of his heart in that shower was a whole other thing altogether. “I need some pants,” he said, deciding to change the subject. “I can’t believe I had to argue with him like this!”

  “Hopefully, this will be the last you see of him,” Jo said and retreated into the car, picking up his pants off the table.

  Mr. B pulled out some fresh clothes. “Exactly.” He wasn’t even all that heartbroken about the breakup, because it had been brewing for months, but what upset him so much was that it pulled the ground from beneath his feet. He hadn’t been single in years, and he didn’t even know where to start with this new chapter of his life.

  Jo was silent for several moments, swiftly putting on yesterday’s clothes. They still looked the bomb. Jo could wear a burlap sack, and everyone would think it was the peak of street style.

  “So... how serious are you about this idea? I kinda thought we were kidding around last night,” Jo said in the end.

  Mr. B gave it some thought, now wishing he had some of the cookies left to help his brain function. Wouldn’t it be exciting to be wanted so much guys paid to be with him? “I want change. I want to explore new sides of me.”

  “Yeah, but...” Jo leaned against the table and pulled the makeshift hood off his head, letting the fabric pool on his shoulders. “Maybe you should rethink that. It’s your life, and maybe this would be a bit too much right after such a long relationship.”

  “No. I need to throw myself in the deep end. Don’t look at me like that. There’s nothing wrong with sex work. Why do I always have to be considered the boring guy? I’m not boring. I’m adventurous, I love sex, and I have this place to make it all into an expensive, cool, innovative experience.”

  Jo blinked and stood up straight. “I never said there is anything wrong with sex work. I have the utmost respect for people who choose to do this kind of job. I’m just not certain that it’s something for you. I’m worried.”

  “Well… I won’t know until I try, right?” Where was his bloody pipe when he needed it?

  Jo’s hands dropped. “I guess not.”

  Mr. B forced a smile to his face and slapped Jo’s arm. “Oh, come on. Don’t make that face. This is good. This is new and exciting. We’re at the cutting edge of prostitution.” Would the joke work?

  Jo smirked and rubbed his face with his hands. “Oh no, the puns are coming.”

  Mr. B’s smile widened. As long as they kept it fun, this would all be okay. “The guy comes in, and I’m like ‘would you like some coffee with that wood, sir?’.”

  Jo wouldn’t look at him. “Will you be trimming bushes as well?”

  Mr. B laughed out loud and patted him on the back. “That’s the spirit!”

  Chapter 3

  After three weeks of endless work, the train car Mr. B meant to use for his new business venture was taking shape. With the interior scrubbed clean, varnished, and refurbished with furniture he’d made himself, he congratulated himself on a job well done. Jo spent virtually all his time off work helping Mr. B with the renovation, and slept next to him every night when he didn’t have to be at work early the morning after.

  With the summer in full swing, it was a pleasure to stay out here, close to nature, despite the property lacking a real bathroom, but Mr. B was thinking forward and had already looked into various heating and energy-saving options, which would prove necessary in winter. Despite all his complaining about the lack of Wi-Fi, in the end Jo admitted that it wa
s kind of nice to just unplug and work together, without any outside interference. At least there was an electricity generator on the premises, so they could still listen to music or use their computers for off-line stuff.

  Mr. B was just finishing work on the shelving unit for the tobacco bar when he heard Jo’s bicycle bell.

  “What did you want to show me?” he called out from outside, referring to the message Mr. B had sent him a few hours past. Moments later, he entered, with his black hair in an artistic mess, looking both stylish and comfortable in the black drop-crotch pants and sleeveless shirt.

  Mr. B stalled and looked him up and down. “Christ! Do you have to look this cool all the time?”

  Jo blinked and looked down. “I bought all this in a store, come on,” he said and gave Mr. B a friendly slap on the back, even though the slight flush on his skin made him look embarrassed with the compliment. It was probably just the result of the long bicycle drive, but Mr. B liked to think he could affect his friend’s vanity this way.

  “I know, I know, it’s effortless for Jo Lau to look like he’s ready for his photoshoot.” Mr. B waved his hand. “I’m almost done with the tobacco bar!” He pushed his thumbs under the suspenders he wore over bare skin because it was too hot to bother with a shirt when he was working in the tin can of a train car. He should probably work on adding more ventilation to the space, if he were to demand a high price for the experience of staying here with him.

  Jo chewed on his lip and quickly joined him by the shelves. He glanced at the suspenders—real vintage leather after all!—before transferring his attention to the jars with labels. Not all contained tobacco yet, but it was a start.

  “I think you’d need a couch here, so that two people could smoke together and hug, or something.”

  Mr. B wiggled his eyebrows. “Or something. That something, will be a whole lot of fucking. This place will be a steaming hot inferno of lust once I’m done with it.”

  Jo chuckled and massaged the base of his nose. “I don’t doubt that,” he said and opened the salted caramel tobacco jar, pushing his nose inside. He hadn’t shaved for the last few days, and now his black stubble was scratching against the glass.

  “Come on, I’ll show you how I’ve imagined it so far.” Mr. B gestured for the door and rushed out into the sun outside. He actually needed to buy some sunscreen because he’d burned his nose and forehead yesterday from spending so much time outdoors.

  Jo followed him, looking at the new table made of reclaimed wood in appreciation. “Will you be offering food as well? Organic sausage hash?”

  Mr. B grinned and wrapped his arm over Jo’s shoulders. “I will definitely be serving organic sausage. But seriously, I’ll have snacks, sandwiches, maybe I’ll get a deal from that local bakery close to your place. Their stuff is so good. Did you bring me any of those salted caramel pretzels?”

  “Both with and without chocolate,” Jo said and put his bag on the table, pulling out both the paper bags with the bakery’s logo. “You’re working so much you need all the fuel you can get.”

  Mr. B was salivating already, but the food would have to wait. He was too excited about showing Jo more of his work.

  “So, you come round for the Lumbersexual Experience. I mean, the proverbial ‘you’,” Mr. B said, and they looked at the train car together. Now that he looked at it, the view hammered home that he really should have started with repainting the outer walls, but he’d get on with that soon enough. “Imagine a campfire burning outside. I’ll be digging up a firepit here at some point. I’ll have fairy lights all over the place in the evening, so it will set the mood before you’re even greeted.”

  Jo nodded and pushed his hands into his front pockets, regarding the train car as if he tried to imagine how it would look at night. The warmth of his body was such a pleasant fit under Mr. B’s arm that he decided not to deny himself.

  “Waiting with chilled beers,” added Jo.

  “Yep. I’ll have a questionnaire for the guest to fill out before they come over. I will know if they drink alcohol, if they’re allergic to anything, or have any specific needs that have to be met. This way I’ll be able to tailor the experience to them. Are they up for topping, bottoming, what do they want to get out of the evening, you know?”

  Jo frowned. “So... if you’re a gay sex worker, will the guests come here to bottom as well? Is it as common as the other way around?”

  Mr. B decided it was time to lead Jo inside. “I’ve researched a bit, and clients hire escorts for all kinds of stuff. Many gay guys do blowjobs only. But you know me, I’m a people pleaser.” He laughed. “I can imagine a lot of guys looking for this kind of experience could actually want to bottom, or suck me off, because the lumberjack persona has such an alpha vibe.” Though when he said it out loud, a weird knot tied itself in his stomach.

  “Right,” said Jo, somewhat flatly, but he didn’t try to untangle himself from the embrace. Was he uncomfortable with talking about gay sex? He’d never seemed to before. “I can imagine that’s the case.”

  Mr. B pulled away, set on infecting Jo with his enthusiasm. “So you come in with the Lumberjack”—it somehow felt better to talk about it in third person—“you chat, maybe flirt a little already, he leads you to the tobacco bar,”—Mr. B showed off an array of freshly cleaned vintage pipes—“or, if they don’t like smoking, there’s cookies and sandwiches. I might get some paleo options as well, just in case.”

  “And vegan,” Jo reminded him with a scowl of distaste. “As ridiculous as that is when you come in here for the meat.” He shifted closer to Mr. B, and their shoulders touched by accident.

  “I guess the meat is the most important thing on offer at the end of the day.” Mr. B patted his chest with a grin and walked backward. “So you move on further into the car, and you get a whole array of choices.” He made a broad gesture to the sofa he’d upcycled himself with new upholstery made out of secondhand blankets, and then made another sway of his arm toward the large bed at the back of the car. He’d installed a large tree branch above it and sprinkled it with fairy lights and small bird taxidermy. Now that he thought about it, this bit of decor might not be all that vegan-friendly.

  Jo exhaled. “I love that bed. I would have chosen the bed for the main act,” he said, brushing his long fingers over the side of the sofa.

  Mr. B’s chest filled with excitement at the praise. “So, say you choose the bed, and you’ve marked in the questionnaire that you want blowjobs and topping.” He sat on the bed and spread his legs. “We can start off here. I pull off the suspenders first…” He slid his arms out from the leather straps. “I was thinking about this actually. It would make more sense to open the clips, but it’s sexier if I keep them on, just hanging there. What do you think?” He looked up at Jo with a frown. His friend was the style guru after all.

  Jo’s expression was difficult to read, but he nodded, pushing his hands farther down his pockets. His face was so handsome with the high cheekbones, the angular jaw, and the thick, perfect eyebrows over dark eyes. “Yeah, it’s way sexier. Makes you look... relaxed.”

  “And that’s how I will be. Suave, relaxed, chilled out like I’ve done this a thousand times. I could even still be smoking my pipe. I’ll just try to feel the mood, you know?”

  “Yeah, smoke, definitely,” Jo said, and his gaze went to the pipe on the table nearby. “Like a real lumberjack on his evening off.”

  Mr. B grabbed the loaded pipe and lit it with a match, instantly calmed down by the smoke that filled his lungs like a cloud of sweet warmth. “So I’m sitting here, suspenders down, smoking, and I rub my dick, and I’m like ‘I’ve been hard at work chopping wood all day, and now I just wanna fuck.’”

  “You deserve someone to take care of your needs,” whispered Jo, curling his shoulders slightly.

  “Unless you wanted me to suck you off, then I’d pass you the pipe, and be like ‘All I could think about at work was gi—’”

  Jo got to his knees and
leaned forward, surprising Mr. B so much he spread his thighs wider without thinking. Was this actually happening? More importantly, what was happening?

  Mr. B watched Jo, with tension making his whole body freeze. “S-so yeah, that’s where you’d kneel. Maybe I should p-put a rug by the bed…” he mumbled, unsure what to do.

  Jo stared at him, his eyes so wide he looked as if he might turn around and flee at any moment, but a decision must have been made, because he suddenly put both his hands on Mr. B’s thighs and slowly moved them up, following them with the rest of his body.

  Mr. B couldn’t choke out a word, too overwhelmed by the surge of speculation rushing through his head only to wipe out all rational thought with a spike of arousal. What he should be doing was asking Jo what this was about, laughing it off, or telling Jo he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. He should be worrying about their friendship, or about confusing Jo with his unnecessary intro to the brothel.

  And yet he was silent. He breathed hard, completely mesmerized by Jo’s lips, and dark, unfocused eyes.

  Jo exhaled softly when one of his palms reached the front of Mr. B’s jeans. He stared at it, hypnotized, but didn’t hesitate to gently massage Mr. B’s cock through the denim. In the most surreal of moments, he started pulling down the zipper with his other hand.

  Mr. B exhaled deeply through his nose and had enough brain power to put away the pipe. How was this happening? Should he stop it? Did he want to stop it? What pushed Jo to do this? Had Jo thought this through? But Mr. B wouldn’t voice any of those concerns, too absorbed by Jo’s intent moves, which made Mr. B’s cock painfully hard in a split second. He wanted to dip his dick in Jo’s mouth so bad his whole body heated up like a furnace. He’d never realized just how badly he craved it.

  Jo opened Mr. B’s pants and tugged on the denim, prompting him to raise his hips. Mr. B stifled a moan when the fabric rubbed against his cock as it passed a bit lower, uncovering the tenting fabric of his underwear. Jo took a deep breath and leaned in, touching the curved length with his nose and mouth. Was he smelling Mr. B’s arousal? There wasn’t enough time to ponder on that when Jo opened his mouth and kissed Mr. B’s junk through the colorful cotton.