The End of Billy Knight

by Ty Jacob

  She winked at him and delivered the last few lines directly to him, as though they were the only two people in the room. This time the words in the song felt like they were true. It didn’t feel like a game. It really did feel like she was mad for loving this young man in the crowd. She’d never felt that way before. Who was he? She had to know. She would have to come out immediately after her performance and meet him, talk to him. She hoped he wouldn’t run away.

  When the song was over, she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, pressing hard, wanting to mark him with a big red lipstick kiss. It would be easier to find him later. She noted, as she pulled away, that he didn’t blush. Instead he looked back up at her directly, confidently, as if those brown eyes could see right through all her layers of makeup, and he smiled.

  Beneath her large padded bra, Sasha’s heart did a tiny flip.

  Part Two: Working Boys

  9. Lipstick Emergency

  MIKE FELT TERRIBLY lost his first few days in Los Angeles. His initial high upon arriving faded quickly, and he had no idea what to do next.

  He got a room at the Gold Coast Motel, just at the edge of West Hollywood, forty bucks a night. Then he spent two days wandering around alone. He went into stores and tried on clothes he couldn’t afford. He bought food at a grocery store and ate in his motel room. During the evenings he had drinks in dark bars. At a place called Buck’s Saloon, he watched a group of biker men playing pool. They wore black leather, looked tough and dangerous. When they came up to the bar to order more beer, they were talking about antiques.

  By his third night he was very low on money. It was a Wednesday, and he stood outside a place called the Lucky Pony. There was music coming from inside, and laughter. He smiled and chatted with the guy at the door until he got in for free.

  He ordered just one beer, with the plan to make it last the entire night. When a drag show started, the first queen looked nervous, but the second one was big, fat, and hilarious, kind of charming. Mike liked that she didn’t seem to care how fat she was. She just got up there and did it anyway.

  It felt good when she pointed at him to come up closer to the stage, singing in his direction, kissing him on the forehead with everybody watching. Afterward she curtseyed to the crowd, and then once more to him. Just before she disappeared behind the silver streamers at the back of the stage, she turned to take one last look in his direction. He saw her do it. Drag queens turned him off, but he liked it when people were into him, even if he didn’t feel the same way back. It made him feel like he held some kind of power, like he was special.

  After the show was over, he walked to the opposite side of the bar and leaned against a black wall. The Lucky Pony was run down, but it was good to see all the people laughing and talking. On the wall behind him hung large glossy photos of various drag queens, each one signed as if they were celebrities. The DJ began playing music, and people danced in front of the empty stage. A mirrored disco ball reflected points of light across the floor and walls. A couple guys climbed up on stage and began dancing shirtless, showing off their gym-toned chests and arms.

  He turned his back to the room and counted the money in his wallet. He had only twenty dollars left. He knew the glove box was empty. Tonight he’d have to sleep in the car, although he wasn’t sure where it was safe. Tomorrow he’d need more money for food. There was no way around it. He was going to have to turn a trick tonight. He hadn’t had sex with anyone since the guy who came inside him, and he was scared.

  He faced the room again and examined the crowd. This wasn’t the right place. Most of the guys here weren’t going to pay for sex. They’d just expect it for free. He had to figure out where the hustlers go.

  “Hey, doll. Thanks for being such a willing victim.”

  He turned and there was the big drag queen. She’d put on a long, blond wig and some kind of burgundy evening gown. She was tall, over six feet probably. Everything about her was enormous – her head, her hands, her hair, her body. Along the edges of the dress he could see her protruding stomach, the rolls at her side, all of it covered in a layer of material that shimmered in the light.

  “No problem,” he said.

  “Let me get you a drink. To thank you. What’ll it be?”

  “Thanks, but that’s all right. I’m about to go.”

  “Go?!” She looked horrified. “I won’t have it! Surely you have time for just one little drink before you go running out of here like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight? Another one of those?” She pointed to the beer in his hands. “Good, now come with Sasha.” She grabbed his wrist firmly and began walking toward the bar.

  He allowed her to lead him. He would have one more beer, then go.

  “Ross,” she said to the bartender, “be a dear and get this hot little package a Miller Lite, would you? And a Gin and Tonic for me, a double.” As the bartender turned away, she lowered her voice and said, “You want a shot too? I’ll set you up.”

  “No, that’s cool.” Mike said.

  “Listen, doll. I don’t pay. It’s on the house. I’m Queen Sasha, and all you see is my domain.” She made a great, sweeping gesture which took in the entire bar, all the beat up tables and chairs, the walls painted black and the raised wooden stage, the glossy photos across the room and the disco ball above the dance floor. “Let me give you the royal treatment.” she said. “Tequila? Top shelf? Okay, we’ll do a shot together.”

  They did the shots there at the bar, side by side, before she even asked his name. When their empty glasses hit the bar, she squealed.

  “Oh! Look what I’ve done to you!” She held him by the shoulders and moved him into a stream of light shining down from the ceiling. “You poor, darling boy.” She turned to the bartender. “Ross, we’ve got a lipstick emergency here. Can you get me a glass of water and a napkin, pronto?”

  The bartender stopped in the middle of mixing a drink for someone else, and he got Sasha what she wanted.

  She turned back to Mike and said, “Doll, I have left my big, sloppy lips all over your dear, sweet forehead. Oh, what would your wife say when you got home?! How would you ever explain lips that large?” She was already dipping the white bar napkin in the glass of water and dabbing Mike’s forehead. “Hold still, dear,” she said, and held his chin with her hand for the second time that night. He felt her long plastic nails against his face. “Mommy’s made a mess of you,” she said, and stuck out her tongue, dabbing the napkin with her saliva, using it to wipe off his skin.

  By then Mike was laughing. She was too much. She was gross. She was funny. He liked her. He had the odd feeling that everything in his life had instantly become less serious. He was, in that moment, suddenly less sad. It was good. Mike was tired of being sad.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll never find a trick tonight if I go around looking like an idiot.” He didn’t care what she knew. It seemed like it was okay to be honest with her.

  “Oh,” she said, nodding slowly. “I see. You’re a working boy. Of course you are. With looks like that, you’d be a fool not to. I tried it once. Didn’t make a dime. What’s your name?”

  “Bill,” Mike said. “Your show was great.”

  “Thanks, Bill. But that Patsy Cline number of mine is as old as the hills.”

  “It was good. You’re good. Drag queens in Cincinnati, they’re not so good.”

  “Ah, corn-fed Midwestern boy, are we?” She looked at him up and down. “So tell me, at what point did LA become suddenly more beautiful with your presence?”

  “I got here a couple days ago.”

  “Oh! Fresh off the boat, and looking for a little money, eh? Fantastic.” She began to say something, and then paused. “Me, I’m from Nebraska originally, but I’ve been here over twenty years now. Just love it.”

  “Do they pay you? To sing? Or to pretend to sing?”

  “A little. Not much. Mostly it’s the free booze, you know. And the glory, the fame, of course. You know this isn’t a working boy’s bar, right?”
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  “I got in free, thought it would be fun.”

  “Excellent. All work and no play makes Bill a dull boy. Do you know where the working boys go?”

  Mike shook his head.

  “Pinky’s Boy Bar or the Green Carnation,” she said. “Pink and green, those are the colors for you. Or of course, there’s Griffith Park, but that’s strictly A-Y-O-R. Don’t go there, doll. I’ve heard bad things. At Your Own Risk, you know.”

  “No, nothing risky.”

  “Well, between the two bars, I recommend Pinky’s. More johns. I’ll show it to you later.” She raised her gin and tonic and clinked it against Mike’s beer.

  “Where is it?” he said. “This Pinky’s.”

  “Oh, you really are in a hurry to get to work, aren’t you? Why the rush? Stay here and talk to me.”

  “I’d like to, but I really do need to make some money tonight.”

  “Who says you’re not going to make it with me?”

  He looked at her. The only thing worse than having to suck off an old, fat guy, was having to suck off an old, fat guy in a dress. “Sorry. No,” he said.

  She visibly winced. “Where are you staying?”

  “I was at the Gold Coast.”

  “Ack! Horrible place. Cum-stained sheets.”

  “Well, I’m sort of running out of money, so tonight, if I don’t stay with somebody, I’ll just sleep in my car.”

  “Oh, please, doll. You can’t do that in LA. God only knows what will happen to you.” She paused. “Listen. I have a proposition for you.”

  “No,” he said firmly. Then, to soften it, he added, “I’m really sorry, but no.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m about to say.”

  “I need to go.” He reached out to set his half-finished beer down on the bar. He didn’t want to end up having sex with this overweight queen.

  “Well, that’s too bad, because Sasha knows a way you can make a little money, get a place to sleep, and you won’t have to hop in bed with a soul.”

  Mike froze.

  Sasha looked off into the crowd. “But you’ve got places to go, people to do...”

  “No, what is it?”

  She turned and looked back at him, pretending to be surprised. “Are you still here? I thought you were off to find yourself some shriveled old dick to suck.”

  “Okay, alright. Tell me what it is.”

  “Have you ever done video?”

  “Ah, sure.”

  “Well, you see, I have this little hobby. I direct jack-off videos. Now here’s my proposition. You come home with me, smile for the camera, take off your clothes like a good boy, and jack off while I tape it. Easy-peasy. Fifty bucks in your hot, sticky little hand.”

  “Yeah?”

  “When we’re done you can sleep on Sasha’s sofa, and if you’re real sweet you might even get breakfast in the morning. I make nice pancakes, just like my momma made back in Nebraska.”

  Mike looked down at her body.

  “Don’t worry, doll. I won’t lay a hand on you. Scouts honor.” She held up her hand. “Fifty bucks and a place to sleep tonight.”

  “You do hardcore too, or just jack-off?”

  “I direct some hardcore. I work for Cougar Studios. Why? Are you interested in doing hardcore?”

  “Fuck yeah.” He couldn’t believe his good luck.

  “You’re fast. From jack-off to hard-core in fifty seconds flat. Wait a minute. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. You’re legal. Are you a top or a bottom, or versatile?”

  “Bottom. Total bottom.”

  “Have you ever topped?”

  “Yeah, sure. If I have to, but I’d rather bottom.”

  “Well, Bill. If you’re real nice to Sasha, maybe she’ll consider your first little jack-off movie as a screen test.” She winked and gave him a devilish smile.

  10. A Natural

  WHEN SHE GOT Bill home she was a little shaky – something that hadn’t happened since her very first shoot. This boy was gorgeous.

  As she opened the door, she remembered with relief that she’d cleaned the day before. Normally she didn’t care what her models thought, but for some reason with Bill she wanted to make a good impression.

  She’d moved to this little place on Orlando Avenue shortly after starting at Cougar. It wasn’t much. The building was run down, but at least she had no roommates. There was one bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living room that was big enough to hold not only her large video collection, but a small bookcase full of books, her pink sewing machine and a large, faux black leather sofa. She was proud of this living room. The walls, which she herself had painted deep red, were covered with her collection of feathered masks, blue and green and yellow and orange, some with eyes outlined in sequins, some with noses like large beaks. She told Bill to sit down, and she pulled out her video camera.

  Sasha had upgraded to a shiny new VHS camcorder two years earlier. It was even lighter than her old Betamovie. The moment she pointed it at Bill, she knew he was a natural. He had an intense, piercing way of looking at the camera, as though he was thinking of all the dirty little things he would do with you, if he could just get you alone. The fact that Sasha was, in reality, alone with him, that she was so near to him as he took off his clothes, made her hard.

  He did everything she told him to, exactly as she said. He got down on his knees and arched his back, spread his cheeks, squatted over the camera and played with himself. His body was beautiful – tanned and nicely toned – but far and away the most amazing thing about him was his ass. It was the perkiest, most fuckable bubble butt Sasha had ever seen. If there was an ass that could launch a thousand ships, this was it.

  He never complained about the positions she asked him to get into, never grew impatient and, unlike most guys, he came precisely when she told him to, like it was a switch he could flick. He was in total control of his body, even if he was a little drunk. She was very impressed. She gave him his fifty bucks, slapped his ass lightly, and tucked him into bed on the sofa.

  When she finally stepped into the bathroom to get ready for bed, she was exhausted. She’d worn the evening gown throughout the shoot because it was so glamorous. She’d wanted to look good for Bill even if she wasn’t allowed to touch him. Standing at the bathroom mirror now, she put one hand at the front of her wig and slid it off slowly, with a long deep sigh, until it was Dale looking back, holding Sasha’s hair in his hand.

  Dale turned and placed the wig on a mannequin head that sat on the shelf behind him, then unzipped the back of the dress and let it slide down off his shoulders. It became a burgundy ring at his feet. Picking it up, he hung it carefully on a hanger on the back of the bathroom door. He took off the fake nails. Then slowly he unclasped the padded bra, damp and sweaty, and dropped it on the floor. He began removing the makeup with cold cream, rubbing gently in circles as he’d once read in his mother’s beauty magazine when he was thirteen, clockwise first, then counter-clockwise, trying to keep his skin toned. Finally he stepped into the shower and felt the hot water fall down around his waxed and hairless body. He thought of Bill out on the sofa, of the video they’d just made and – safe in the noise of the splashing water – he jacked off vigorously.

  When he stepped out of the shower, he put on a green silk robe and opened the door, moving silently into the living room. He stood behind the couch until his eyes adjusted. The light above the stove in the kitchen passed through the doorway and into the room, causing a faint glow off the red walls.

  Bill was already fast asleep. He had kicked back the sheets and was sleeping in his underwear – simple white briefs like a boy would wear.

  Dale watched the smooth skin of Bill’s chest slowly rise up and down. Such perfect skin. He wanted desperately to reach out and touch it. In the darkness he could just make out the shadow of hair on Bill’s legs. This somehow felt more intimate, just standing
here and watching Bill sleep, than it had the entire time Bill was jacking off in front of the camera. Here was this young man, twenty-three if he was telling the truth, and there was so much ahead of him. Dale knew logically that there were things ahead for himself as well, but certainly not as much.

  It seemed lately, as he moved through his days, that he was walking down a long hallway that became increasingly narrow with every step. It was impossible to undo things, to choose a different direction. There were fewer and fewer doors. Decisions he’d made years ago had led him to where he was today, this lonely man with a green silk robe and a stack of videos in the corner, staring at the tender, astonishing beauty of this boy. If it weren’t for Sasha’s steadfast optimism, he was certain he would fall into despair.

  He looked carefully at the line of Bill’s jaw. He wanted to help him. He wanted to use him. He walked toward his bedroom door and went in, shutting it tightly behind him in the dark.

  11. Staying for Breakfast

  MIKE WOKE UP the next morning not entirely sure where he was. Then he remembered the Lucky Pony, Sasha getting him drink after drink. He remembered making the video, remembered how fantastically naked he’d felt in front of the black camera, more naked than ever, but also powerful and good. Sasha had oo-ed and ah-ed in her evening dress as she filmed, and the masks on the red walls had felt like a crowd of eager strangers, watching him.

  He got up off the couch to pee now, and when he came back into the room he was surprised to find a fat man in a green robe sitting there.

  “Hi Bill,” the man said, smiling.

  “Ah, hi.” Mike noticed the eyebrows. They were Sasha’s, slender and neatly curved.

  “I’m Dale.” The man stood up and shook Mike’s hand. “Hungry?”

  Mike nodded. “Have any coffee?”

  “Coming right up.”

  Dale moved into the kitchen and started making coffee. Mike didn’t bother getting dressed. He walked into the kitchen in his underwear, leaned against the counter and looked at Dale from behind. The man’s ass was a giant blob of extra fat. His head was completely bald, except for a laurel wreath of stubble around the edges. His body was shaped like an avocado. His green robe came down around an increasingly wide trunk and stopped just above his knees. The legs below the robe were hairless, white, and plump. Mike thought of a mermaid. But instead of a fishtail this man had been cursed with a body that ended in two enormous blind, albino worms. His stomach churned.