by Mike Price
Joe had been apprehensive at first, he was not gay, or at least, he was pretty sure he wasn’t, and had enjoyed it when he and a couple of girls had gone into a shed and shown each other their ‘privates’. He remembered the girls’ eyes when he had become aroused, a look of apprehension mixed with excitement. The feeling becoming more intense as they fumbled with each other, none of them quite sure what they were doing, but knowing it engendered a warm feeling; but an old man, playing with your dick, that was another matter entirely.
Danny had said he just looked on it as job, just the same as delivering papers, except you didn’t get soaking wet or frozen in mid-winter and the pay was far better!
Joe had wanted a computer, all his friends had one, but his mother had told him flatly there was no chance and there were no ‘uncles’ on the scene at the present time he could butter up too. It would take ages to save up with the money from his paper round and that would be if he gave up smoking as well. He decided to give the ‘Danny’ scheme a try; if he only did it enough times to pay for the computer then he could stop.
He remembered the first time as though it was yesterday. Danny had by now established some regular clients and he let Joe meet one of those, by taking his place.
The car pulled up at the kerbside, and the man lowered his window, he had been expecting to see Danny and was surprised when Joe bent down to greet him.
“Trevor?” Joe asked, it was not the man’s real name, but one he had given to Danny.
“Where’s Danny?” a look of worry creased his brow.
“He’s got a cold, asked me to stand in for him,” Joe realised the words sounded foolish, but could not think of anything better to say.
“Get in then.” It was an order not a request.
Joe went to the passenger’s door, opened it, and settled in the front seat. Trevor moved off and drove out of the city towards Berkswell. Once in the country, he found an entrance to a field which was partially hidden from the road and pulled up. Trevor switched off the engine and got out of the car, opened the rear door and got back in, waving to Joe to follow him. Once settled on the rear seats, he undid his flies. Joe’s eyes focused on the erection that had burst from the man’s trousers. Christ, he thought, he’s enormous!
Half an hour later, Trevor dropped Joe back in Coventry, ten pounds richer. That’s what I call easy money, he had said to himself; he had felt no desire, no excitement, it was just a job.
The money was easy and soon Joe had regular ‘customers’ of his own. One man had asked him to suck him off and Joe had refused, but when the man offered to double the money, his inhibitions disappeared, after all, he kept telling himself, it was just a job. Soon, he had saved enough money to buy a computer. He liked having plenty of money in his pocket and by now had ditched his paper round, he was making far more in this new venture. He had told his mother he was still doing the paper round and had got himself a Saturday job as well, when she had asked how he could afford to buy a computer. The money gave him a feeling of empowerment, and he made up his mind he would leave school as soon as he was fifteen and get a proper job.
By the time he had reached fifteen, he was six foot and looked over eighteen. He had not been questioned when he and Danny had gone into a pub and ordered drinks, although they had always made sure that they never went into any of their local ones, just in case they were recognised. Both had left school that summer, but getting a job had not been that easy and they had signed on at the job centre. Joe’s dream of earning ‘proper money’ disappeared in the aftermath of the credit crunch, but he still had his regular ‘clients’.
It was Danny who suggested if he wanted to find some new punters, then the best place to start would be by visiting Rainbows, the pub which catered almost exclusively for gays.
Joe was not sure, he was not gay, but the lure of increasing his income overcame any reservations.
He had met Danny for a drink on the Friday and after a couple of pints with whisky chasers had decide to give it a try. Danny had said he would go with him, but at the last minute had cold feet and left him just outside the entrance to Rainbows.
Joe was wearing a white ‘T’ shirt and jeans. His muscles rippled under the tight shirt and, with his curly hair, looked like a young James Dean. He certainly looked older than his fifteen years, more like nineteen.
He entered the pub, and walked up to the bar and ordered a large whisky, the effect of the earlier drinks was beginning to wear off!
A number of men were sitting around the room, some in couples, others either on their own or in larger groups, they had all turned to look at him as he walked in; he was new kid on the block.
He sat there gripping the glass as though it was providing some kind of protection. A young man came over to him and tried to make polite conversation, but it was obvious he was just trying to chat him up and Joe was not there to make friends, he was there to make money! He had been in the pub for about an hour, and was on his third whisky and he could feel the effects slowly taking hold of his body. He decided that maybe this was not the best idea Danny had ever had. The only response he had received was from these bloody queers trying to get a date with him.
He slid off the bar stool and walked to the door. The cool evening air hit him as he went out onto the street and he swayed a little, the spirits having an effect on his legs. He suddenly felt a strong arm supporting him. He turned to see a middle-aged man, probably late forties, by his side.
“You okay, son?” the man asked.
“Yeah… fine, thanks.”
“I’ve got my car just round the corner, would you like me to drop you somewhere?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Joe allowed himself to be led to the man’s car, a dark blue Renault, about two years old. Joe looked a little closer at the man, he was not dressed in way out gear like a lot of the customers of Rainbows, but wore a blue shirt with fawn Chino’s and brown shoes. He was shorter than Joe, about five nine and had the start of a paunch. His hair was dark with the first signs of grey showing in flecks to the sides and to his temple. His face was one of those that were easily forgotten, the only distinguishing feature being his bushy eyebrows, but he had a kindly smile and Joe did not feel threatened.
“Look, if you want to sleep it off, you can come back to my place.”
Joe suddenly sobered up; he could here alarm bells ringing in his ears. The man saw the worried look in Joes face.
“Don’t worry I’m not going to rape you.” He laughed, but not in harsh way. “I was watching you in the pub, you’re not gay, are you? I can tell.”
Joe felt strangely reassured he was not being threatened; the man must be just friendly.
“You’re a good looking lad and you went into Rainbows knowing it was a gay club, am I right?”
“Yes, so what?”
“That means you went in there for a reason and my guess is that you’re on the look-out for a punter who’ll pay you for your services, yes?”
“So what if you’re right then?”
“I’m willing to pay, what do you charge?”
“Twenty for a blow job.” Joe was now in full control of his faculties.
“And how much for full sex?”
Joe was taken aback, he had never considered full sex, but hell did it matter, after all it was just a job.
“Fifty quid,” he heard himself saying.
“Okay, let’s go back to my place.”
They got into the car and the man drove off to his flat.
Joe never did get the man’s real name and strangely never saw him again, but after this first initiation, he would make Rainbows his main pick up point, for nearly all his future liaisons. The regulars did not seem to mind and stopped trying to date him, leaving him to service the lonely ones amongst their midst who could not seem to be able to date naturally.
He still turned up at the job centre, but with little enthusiasm, after all, he did not need to work with his extra-curricular activities providing a regul
ar income.
Now he had hit the jackpot and once he had his motorbike, it would be bye-bye, Martin.
Chapter Eighteen
Martin was looking forward to seeing Joe. The holiday had been fantastic and even his relationship with Maddy had been good, but he could not get Joe out of his mind. It was like being hooked on a drug, he needed his fix.
He phoned Joe’s mobile and arranged to see him on Friday, then phoned Tony to say he would be coming to Kenilworth for a routine visit and was there anything happening he ought to know about. Tony had said that things were quiet, and there really was no need for him to come up as he had nothing new to tell him, nor were there any functions to attend. Martin said that it was fine, but he would call up anyway as he wanted people to get used to him being around, but Tony did not have to call in.
That evening, he casually mentioned to Maddy that Tony had been on the phone and he wanted to discuss some promotional work to get his name across in the area. He had suggested bringing a photographer to take pictures for an article, in the local magazine; he had wangled with the editor.
“I told him about your present, and said I would bring my new camera and tripod, and we could do our own pictures. If they turn out to be rubbish, then we can always get the professional in. What do you think?”
“Good idea,” she said with little enthusiasm in her voice. She was not really interested and was disappointed, they had only been back five minutes, and he was off to the bloody Midlands again.
“I’m only going overnight Friday so if you want to go anywhere on Saturday, go ahead and arrange it, and I’ll make sure I’m back with plenty of time to spare.” He knew how she felt about his foray into politics and made sure that it did not inconvenience their social life.
“Fine, I’ll sort something out,” she said without looking up from the magazine she was reading.
Martin took his time driving up to Kenilworth. He had decided to go up via the M40 for a change, as he had nothing to do until Joe came, there was no need to race along. He had asked Joe to come earlier and said that he would buy an Indian takeaway so that they could have a meal together. This would be a first as Martin was usually out early evening and Joe had never previously arrived before eleven o’clock.
Joe, having decided over the holiday, that the arrangement would only last until after his birthday at the end of March, was going to make the most of these three months. Although the weather was cold, he intended to cycle over from Coventry, but still sting Martin for the taxi fare, that would bring him an extra £80 per visit.
Just after nine o’clock, the intercom buzzed and Martin unlocked the door for Joe. When the young man entered the apartment, the table was laid and the curry was already served; two cans of lager were half poured.
“Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold and you can tell me what sort of Christmas you’ve had.” Martin beckoned to the chair and Joe sat down.
They ate in silence, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts.
“That was good,” Joe said as he pushed the plate away from him and opened his third can of lager.
Martin smiled, it was not often the lad showed any form of emotion and he was pleased his suggestion of a ‘take away’ had been so well received.
Joe did not want to talk about his own Christmas, after all, it had been nothing special, and he had spent most of the time with Danny and Jimmy at one of the city bars.
He did feign interest in Martins stories of the ski slopes and the fun he had enjoyed. Maybe, he thought to himself, once I’ve made some money I’ll go skiing with the fucking jet set.
Martin cleared away the dishes while Joe sat watching him, having first helped himself to cigarettes from Martin’s silver case.
“I’ve got something to show you,” Martin said, as he finally wiped the kitchen surface clean and switched the dishwasher on.
“I can guess what that is,” Joe said with a laugh.
He is in a good mood, Martin thought, let’s hope it lasts.
“I didn’t mean that. I had a present for Christmas.” He walked across the room and opened the bag that contained the camera and tripod. “I thought we could have some fun and take a few pictures, if we don’t like them, it’s easy to erase them and we can print the ones we like on the computer.”
“Whatever,” Joe returned to his monosyllabic method of communication.
“Would you pour us both a large whiskey while I set up the camera in the bedroom?”
Joe got up from the chair, and poured two large glasses of scotch and followed Martin into the bedroom.
Martin had taken snaps before, but did not class himself as a photographer; the first few pictures were either out of focus or chopped off Joe’s head. He took a series of pictures showing Joe in an ever-decreasing state of undress, until he was completely naked. He then got Joe to repeat the performance with Martin as the subject.
Their glasses were empty and Joe was dispatched to replenish them. He returned with the glasses almost full. The half-empty bottle wedged under his arm.
Martin had set up the tripod and fixed the camera to it, pointing it at the bed.
“Come on,” he said laughing, the whisky beginning to take effect. “Let’s try a few action shots.”
“But how can you take a picture of us both?” Joe looked puzzled.
“Ah, it’s got a timer on it so I can press the button, but there is a delay before it actually takes the picture.”
He grinned giving Joe a knowing look, which implied he knew exactly what he was talking about.
Joe was also starting to feel the effects of the drink and his initial reticence had disappeared. What the hell, he thought, if it keeps him happy what do I care.
After a number of, what Martin had described as action shots, they fell into the bed both giggling like school girls.
Martin got up, and took the camera into the living room where his computer was and connected the camera to the machine. Joe could hear the whirring of the printer as the pictures fell into the tray.
After a couple of minutes, Martin returned with the pictures. The camera had been set up at an angle and, although the ‘action shots’, left nothing to the imagination, you could not actually see their faces, both of them having their heads pointing away from the camera.
“You’d better keep them somewhere safe, don’t want your wife seeing them,” Joe said.
It was the first time Joe had ever mentioned Martin’s wife. Although the subject was not taboo, it was just neither of them ever raised it. Martin felt a small pang of guilt, but told himself it was not being unfaithful; it was not another woman so Maddy did not have a rival in the true sense of the word.
“I’ll keep them in the drawer by the bed; it’s lockable, so even Mrs Black can’t open it.”
The whisky bottle was, by now, three quarters empty, and both of them were tired and drunk. Within in minutes, they were fast asleep.
Martin woke with a start and turned on the light to look at his watch. It was four thirty. Joe was still fast asleep next to him. He shook the lad until he eventually woke.
“Joe, it’s four thirty, you had better go before the neighbours start moving about.”
Joe turned over, his head pounding from the effects of the whisky, and pulled the bed clothes up around him.
“Joe, come on, you’ve got to get up. Shall I call a taxi?”
Joe suddenly came alive, the last thing he wanted was a taxi, he had his bicycle downstairs; the thought of the extra £40 he would make overrode the ache in his brain.
He slowly rose from the bed and dressed.
“Don’t worry about calling for a taxi, I’ve got my mobile, I’ll walk over to the hotel and call one so it will look as though I’ve stayed there.”
“Good idea. Here take this; it’ll cover the taxi fare and those new trainers you were talking about.”
Martin gave him a bundle of twenty-pound notes. Joe did not count them, but guessed there must be between two and three hu
ndred pounds, he would check once outside.
“Right, see you; give me a ring when you’re coming next.” Joe grinned at the double entendre,
“Yes, bye.”
Joe went to the door and without turning back, left, pulling the door shut behind him.
Martin sat for a few minutes, thinking to himself. It was always the same, little or no emotion, just a perfunctory goodbye and the boy was off; no warmth, no feeling, nothing. Martin wondered if there was any future in this relationship, that perhaps it would be wise to stop now, but however sensible the thought sounded, he could not shake off the desire to see Joe again and just hoped that the lad would change as things progressed.
Chapter Nineteen
Throughout January and February, all the papers were speculating on when Brown would call the election. It had to be before the end of June and most of the pundits were predicting early May, which meant announcing the date in April to give a month for canvassing.
Martin had decided to take the bull by the horns and hopefully catch his opponents on the wrong foot. He had phoned Tony to arrange a number of meetings in both Kenilworth and Southam, during the latter part of March and through April. Tony had queried if this was allowed, but Martin told him there was no law against inviting the public to hear a speaker address them. The meetings would be low key to start with getting more intense once the election had been formally announced.
“Look, I’ll be with you on the 12th March, we can discuss it in more detail, and that gives you some time to find some locations for the meetings and book the halls. I’ve transferred £10000 to the account we set up and as you’re a signatory, you can use it as you see fit. Be at my apartment at six o’clock and leave yourself free for at least three hours, okay?”
“You’re the boss. I’ll get cracking straight away.”
Martin rung off, then immediately phoned Joe.