And he even came during Gangstas & Goths, EJ’s disastrous rip-off of Ruffnecks & Rednecks—but it wasn’t easy. During the entire shoot, he was mentally reciting the Lord’s Prayer, calling on the angels to protect him from any unholy spirits that surrounded his partner, who looked like one of the devil’s disciples: skin white as milk decorated with black eyeliner and black lipstick; black Doc Martens, black stonewashed jeans, black mock and a black cape; and wavy black hair styled in the shape of horns. That’s right, horns. But the tongue piercing saved the day (his chin, both lips, both nostrils, both ears, both eyebrows and his navel were also clipped). BuTay had never been kissed or tasted by a man with one—and it turned him on. And Damien (his given name; BuTay just knew he’d find 666 engraved on him somewhere) enjoyed eating ass more than fucking it—he spent ten minutes doing the former rather splendidly, fifteen on the latter with very lackluster results, then returned to the former for another twenty-five thrilling minutes. Since BuTay was lying on his belly, he didn’t have to look at Damien’s frightening face. Their fountains spouted at the same time.
But BuTay wouldn’t be cumming today. EJ was hell-bent on sticking it to him one more time, showing neither compassion nor sorrow over Kayo’s death or sympathy for BuTay’s loss. Placing him in projects he knew would fuck with him—or fuck him over. Now, this. EJ’s final chance to humiliate BuTay. And once again, someone else would be doing the dirty work. BuTay didn’t like his own sperm being on his body and only tolerated it being dumped on his back or legs or ass or chest by others (it’s expected in the porn trade). But this…this was just a half step away from pissing in somebody’s face.
Big hunched up. He huffed. He hollered, “I’m cummin’, yo,” seven or eight times (then cum already, motherfucker). He aimed. He fired.
He fell.
BuTay had pushed him off—and that was no easy feat. Big was a hulky dude, but BuTay managed to unpin his left leg.
As his dick ejaculated onto the floor, Big looked up, incredulous. “What the fuck, yo?”
BuTay didn’t answer. He slid off the bed, swooped up his clothes and barreled down the bunker steps, everyone watching in shock.
EJ was right behind him. He grabbed BuTay’s left arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
BuTay snatched it away. “Get your fuckin’ hands off me.”
“You are not going to fuck this up for me.”
“Hmph, I just did.” He began putting on his clothes.
“You better get your black ass back up there.”
“Oh. My Black ass? Careful, the red is starting to show on your neck.”
“Don’t try that race card crap with me.”
“You’re the one holding—and dealing—from that deck.”
“I’ve just about had it with you.”
“Oh? And what are you going to do with me, Massa?”
“I’m not your Massa. But you have been pimping yourself out as a slave to masters for some time.”
BuTay rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“What’s the line you use? ‘It’s my job.’ You’ve been using porn as an excuse to fulfill your desire of being possessed by us. But let a white man who doesn’t want to fuck you on camera or pay you for it express genuine interest, and you run in the other direction…”
“Who the fuck are you, Dr. Frances Cress Welsing? You just can’t let it go, can you? I don’t want your ass. I never wanted your ass. And why would I want your ass? But if a Negro doesn’t want your ass, something’s got to be wrong with him, right? And you don’t think you’re suffering from post-traumatic slave/ master syndrome?”
EJ poked at BuTay’s chest. “I expect you to fulfill your contractual obligations.”
“I already have.”
“I don’t know what makes you think you’re so special. We all have to do things in this life we may not want to.”
“I do not like my face being used as a toilet. But then, you already knew that.”
“Either you get back up there, or I will haul your ass into court.”
“For what? Refusing to be assaulted by sperm?”
“And I’ll let the IRS know about your under-the-table gigs.”
“Let’s not go there. You forget, I managed this bitch for a year. Who do you think I learned the shit from? They’ll be making a deal with me to get to you.”
EJ was stung but not stuck. He grinned. “And, I’ll make sure your secret is revealed. I’m sure your mother and father would love to get a collection of your greatest hits on DVD.”
Blackmail? How appropriate. But BuTay couldn’t be worried about it, and he wasn’t. He was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of feeling helpless. Tired of feeling alone. Tired of feeling lonely. He was disgusted with the whole thing and disgusted with himself. He wanted his man back. He wanted his body back; it hadn’t belonged to him in years, and he’d lost a piece of himself every time he gave someone a piece. He wanted to be able to tell his parents what he did for a living (“public relations” had been the usual line—and it wasn’t altogether untrue). He wanted to work on that Great American Novel, which he hadn’t written a single line of since becoming an actor. He wanted his life back. And if freedom meant that being a video ho’ would come to light, bring it.
Of course, he couldn’t let EJ think that would scare him. So he hit him way below the belt. “Secret? You mean, like having a four-inch dick and drugging others so you can get your pebble off?”
EJ fumed; the red was really showing on his neck now. “You stupid nigger!”
There was a unified, audible gasp from the gallery upstairs. BuTay thought: Was this lily-white crew genuinely shocked that he had called me such a vulgar name—or were they genuinely shocked that he had called me such a vulgar name to my face? BuTay knew the epithet—or something like it—would spew from his mouth sooner or later. It may no longer be fashionable or acceptable for white folks to just come right out and call a Black person a nigger, but that didn’t mean they’ve stopped. Some forget that it is the twenty-first century and let it rip (like Michael Richards and Dog the Bounty Hunter). But most dance around it—and it always comes down to you not knowing your place. It wasn’t until he had the gall to reject a white man’s advances or challenge his paternalistic colonial attitude—that buying his time meant that they were buying him—that BuTay went from being lovely, gorgeous, alluring, a dream/fantasy come true and all that to porch monkey, darkie, mud boy, jigaboo, Magilla Gorilla and the Big N.
BuTay knew where it came from, that it demonstrated just how much contempt they had for Black men (if not all Black people), and that he was and would have to be the bigger person and ignore their ignorance. EJ was no different. He may have thought he was a different kind of white man (don’t they all think that?), but he was still white. Once again, BuTay would have to rise above it and rise above him. But this time, because he knew the white man…BuTay really wanted to haul off and punch the shit out of him.
But Big beat him to it.
Wrapped in a white towel, Big happened to be standing just a few feet behind EJ. He snatched EJ up by the back of his collar, swung him around and bopped him in the left cheek (the crunch made everyone flinch, including BuTay). EJ soared into the air and flew over what used to be Evan’s desk and into the file cabinet.
Paralyzed with fascination (or was it fear?), the crew stood in silence, mouths agape.
“Who you callin’ nigger, cracker?” Big bellowed at EJ, who was knocked the fuck out. He turned to BuTay. “Man, ya shoulda told me that ain’t yo’ thang. This mo’-fo’ said you liked gettin’ shot in the face. No foul. You cool?”
Hmm…as many times as EJ hoped to lay my ass out behind that desk…
BuTay smiled at Big. “Yeah. Now I am.”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
SHANE ALLISON is the editor of Hot Cops, Backdraft, College Boys, Homo Thugs, Hard Working Men and Black Fire. His stories have graced the pages of several Cleis Press anthologies, including four lustful editions of Bes
t Gay Erotica. His first book of poems, Slut Machine, is out from Rebel Satori Press.
ERIC KARL ANDERSON is author of the novel Enough and has published work in various publications, among them The Ontario Review, Blithe House Quarterly, Ganymede, Velvet Mafia, and the anthologies From Boys to Men and Between Men 2.
JONATHAN ASCHE’s work has appeared in numerous anthologies, including Rough Trade and Muscle Men. He is also the author of the erotic novels Mindjacker and Moneyshots and the short-story collection Kept Men. He lives in Atlanta with his husband, Tomé.
DANIEL ALLEN COX (danielallencox.com) is the author of the novel Shuck, shortlisted for a Lambda Literary Award and a ReLit Award, as well as the novel Krakow Melt. Daniel writes the column “Fingerprinted” for Xtra and lives in Montreal.
MARTIN DELACROIX (martindelacroix.wordpress.com) writes novels, novellas and short fiction. His stories have appeared in more than a dozen erotic anthologies. He has published two novellas, Maui and Love Quest. He lives with his partner, Greg, on a barrier island on Florida’s Gulf Coast.
RAWLEY GRAU, originally from Baltimore, has lived in Slovenia since 2001. Translations from Slovenian include Boris Pintar’s short-prose collection Family Parables and Vlado Zabot’s novel The Succubus (translated with Nikolai Jeffs). He is preparing a translation from Russian of Evgeny Baratynsky’s poems.
JAMES EARL HARDY is the author of the best-selling B-Boy Blues series. His novella, “Is It Still Jood to Ya?” is featured in Visible Lives: Three Stories in Tribute to E. Lynn Harris. His one-man show about Tiger Tyson, “Confessions of a Homo Thug Porn Star,” won the Downtown Urban Theater Festival’s 2010 Best Short Prize. He lives in New York.
SHAUN LEVIN (shaunlevin.com) is the author, most recently, of Snapshots of The Boy. His other books include Seven Sweet Things and A Year of Two Summers. He is the founding editor of Chroma, a queer literary and arts journal.
JEFF MANN has published two books of poetry, Bones Washed with Wine and On the Tongue; a collection of memoir and poetry, Loving Mountains, Loving Men; a book of essays, Edge and a volume of short fiction, A History of Barbed Wire, winner of a Lambda Literary Award.
JOHNNY MURDOC (johnnymurdoc.com) lives in St. Louis with his partner of eight years. His interests include porn, comics and copyright law. Johnny’s own erotic comic is Crash Course. He writes essays for edenfantasys.com/sexis/, self-publishes the zine Blowjob, and was previously published in Skater Boys.
TONY PIKE’s erotic fiction has previously appeared in Zipper and Vulcan magazines in the U.K. and in the anthologies Dorm Porn II and Boy Crazy. He is looking forward to the publication of his first erotic novel, Summer Term Boys.
BORIS PINTAR, born in Slovenia in 1964, is the author of the novel Don’t Kill Anyone, I Love You, published in English under the pseudonym Gojmir Polajnar; of two short-prose collections, including Family Parables and of a book of essays on the Slovene theater.
THOMAS REES (nightmaresextape.blogspot.com), Ted to his friends, has had work published in The Swan’s Rag and TRY Magazine, as well as a collaborative work with Brooklyn-based visual artist Camilla Padgitt-Coles in the inaugural issue of Perfect Wave. He is working on a collection of fiction and lives in Oakland.
DOMINIC SANTI ([email protected]) is a former technical editor turned rogue whose stories have appeared in dozens of publications, including several volumes of Best Gay Erotica. Santi’s latest solo book is the German collection Buddy Action. Future plans include more dirty short stories and an even dirtier historical novel.
SIMON SHEPPARD (simonsheppard.com) is making his eighteenth appearance in the Best Gay Erotica series. He edited the Lambda Award-winning Homosex: Sixty Years of Gay Erotica and Leathermen; wrote In Deep: Erotic Stories; Kinkorama; Sex Parties 101; Hotter Than Hell and Sodomy! and has been published in more than three hundred anthologies.
NATTY SOLTESZ (nattysoltesz.com) cowrote the 2009 porn film Dad Takes a Fishing Trip with director Joe Gage and is a faithful contributor to Handjobs and the Nifty Erotic Stories Archive. His first novel, Backwoods, is forthcoming. He lives in Pittsburgh with his boo.
ROB WOLFSHAM (wolfshammy.com) is a twenty-four-year-old West Texas escapee. He has no idea where he’ll be by the time you read this. His work appears in numerous anthologies, including Beautiful Boys, Hard Working Men, Muscle Men and Best Gay Erotica 2010.
ABOUT THE EDITORS
KEVIN KILLIAN, one of the original “New Narrative” writers of the 1980s, is the author of many books of prose and poetry, including three novels (Shy, Arctic Summer, Spreadeagle) and three collections of short stories, the most recent of which, Impossible Princess (City Lights Books, 2009), won the 2010 Lambda Literary Award for Gay Erotica. Killian’s most recent book is The Kenning Anthology of Poets Theater, 1945-1985 (Kenning Editions, 2010), coedited with David Brazil; next up, a second volume of his popular Selected Amazon Reviews is expected this winter. Born on Long Island, he lives in San Francisco.
RICHARD LABONTÉ ([email protected]) was a gay bookseller for twenty years, has written book reviews for more than thirty years, has edited about thirty (mostly erotic) gay anthologies for Cleis Press and Arsenal Pulp Press and spends his weekends as a kitchen assistant preparing lunches and dinners for as many as sixty people. He lives on beautiful Bowen Island, a short ferry ride from Vancouver, with husband Asa Dean Liles and dog Zak. Several editions of the Best Gay Erotica series, which he has edited since 1996, have been Lambda Literary Award finalists, and two have won, as has First Person Queer (Arsenal Pulp), coedited with Lawrence Schimel.
Copyright © 2010 by Richard Labonté. Introduction copyright © 2010 by Kevin Killian.
All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, or television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Publisher.
Published in the United States by Cleis Press Inc., 2246 Sixth Street, Berkeley, California 94710.
eISBN : 978-1-573-44693-8
“I Dreamt” © 2010 by Shane Allison. “Beauty #2” © 2009 by Eric Karl Anderson, reprinted with the author’s permission from Ganymede Stories One, edited by John Stahle, first appeared in Ganymede #6 (January 2010). “Shel’s Game” © 2010 by Jonathan Asche. “A Nose Commits Suicide” © 2010 by Daniel Allen Cox, reprinted with the author’s permission from Xtra (May 2010). “Closet Case” © 2010 by Martin Delacroix. “The Last Picture. Show.” © 2007, 2010 by James Earl Hardy. “The Boy in Summer” © 2009 by Shaun Levin, excerpted with the author’s permission from Snapshots of The Boy (Treehouse Press, 2009). “Saving Tobias” © 2009 by Jeff Mann, reprinted with the author’s permission from Icarus 2 (Fall 2009). “Bodies in Motion” © 2010 by Johnny Murdoc. “And His Brother Came Too” © 2010 by Tony Pike. “Blossoms in Autumn” © 2005, 2009 by Boris Pintar; translation © 2009 by Rawley Grau, reprinted with the author’s permission from Family Parables (Talisman House, 2009), originally published in Slovene as “Cvetje v jeseni” under the pseudonym Gojmir Polajnar in Druzinske parabole (Ljubljana: SKUC, 2005). “Counterrevolution” © 2010 by Thomas Rees. “Hump Day” © 2010 by Dominic Santi. “Barebacking” © 2010 by Simon Sheppard, reprinted with the author’s permission from Sodomy! (Lethe Press). “I Sucked Off an Iraqi Sniper” © 2010 by Natty Soltesz, reprinted with the author’s permission from the BUTT blog (June 2010). “Attackman” © 2010 by Rob Wolfsham.
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