The End of Billy Knight

by Ty Jacob

  Mike felt someone slap him lightly on the ass now, and he turned around.

  “Hey there.” It was Rafael.

  “Where’d you go?” Mike asked.

  “I was in the bathroom. Sorry.” Rafael was big and dark, with a broad chest. He was wearing a black tuxedo and a shiny red bowtie. He sniffed and brushed his nose.

  Mike shook his head. “Let’s go sit down.” He started walking toward the theatre doors without waiting for an answer. Rafael followed. The crowd narrowed at the doors, and Rafael stood close behind him, his hand on Mike’s ass again.

  People began jostling to get through the doors and grab a good seat. Mike paused to let Gloria Glimmer step in front of him. Her dress sparkled and her low voice came back at him booming. “Thank you, Billy.” She sounded like a football player. “At least there’s one gentleman in the crowd tonight. All these old fags forget their manners when there’s an award on hand.”

  Mike and Rafael ended up sitting next to some production coordinators they’d never met. They told Mike that they loved his work, and he thanked them. Then he turned away and settled in.

  When the curtain came up, a beautiful drag queen began lip-synching to Ethel Merman doing “There’s no business like show business.” The queen’s name was Amanda Manning, and she had on a long green dress with a high slit that revealed surprisingly feminine legs. Mike had met Amanda twice. She was far too thin and gorgeous to be doing Ethel Merman. Sasha should be the one up on that stage.

  Rafael leaned over and said, “She almost looks real.” His eyes were wide.

  Mike kept staring at the stage and just said, “Yeah.”

  Out came ten buff dancing boys. They were bare-chested and wearing purple spandex briefs with matching feathered hats and boas. Amanda was surrounded in a sea of feathers and muscle. She fell back and two of them caught her, lifted her up above their heads and carried her to the front of the stage. Mike wondered how many buff boys it would take to carry Sasha. They all danced and twirled, and it became clear that each dancing boy had a shiny silver letter on his ass. At the end of the number they lined up and began turning around to push their muscle butts out at the crowd. Their tiny briefs spelled out the words “SILVER DICK” in metallic letters. Amanda took a bow in the space between the two words, and the curtain came down.

  Rafael clapped frantically. “She was great!” He was yelling to Mike above the din of the applause.

  Mike nodded slowly and continued staring at the stage. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rafael’s fawning smile. There was a time when he wondered if he loved Rafael, but that time had passed.

  Rafael’s company was fine, good enough, at least when he wasn’t snorting coke, which Rafael did too frequently for Mike’s taste. But often, like tonight, Mike couldn’t help feeling annoyed with him. With only two films under his belt, Rafael still spent too much time staring starry-eyed Mike’s way. Yet they always had great sex, and there was nobody else for Mike that he could see, at least not now. He absentmindedly lifted his hand to the jacket pocket that held the bartender’s phone number.

  When Mike thought about it, which he tried not to do too often, he was sometimes able to admit to himself that what he really wanted was somebody who could make him feel the way Kerry once had, back in the early days. But now whenever he remembered Kerry he cringed.

  A few years ago he’d bumped into Burt at the Manhole Sauna and had asked about Kerry. He couldn’t help himself. The words just came out into the mist of the steam room as he and Burt sat next to each other wrapped in their white towels. Mike learned that Kerry was still in Paris, in Burt’s apartment by the Eiffel Tower. It became clear that Burt was firmly established as Kerry’s sole keeper, that Kerry had managed to become one of the elite escorts whose sponsor paid for everything. Mike knew it would be costing Burt somewhere between $10,000 and $20,000 a month just to keep Kerry.

  Mike himself held his clients at arm’s length – even his regulars. They could only contact him through the agency. He had no desire to give himself over to just one sponsor the way Kerry had, or even to a few sponsors who would share him, as some guys did. Sponsored escorts always said they still maintained their freedom, but he didn’t believe it.

  What Burt had said next hurt most. “Kerry is such a tender fuck.” Mike’s stomach heaved at the words. “I shouldn’t even put it like that,” Burt added, and then spoke more slowly, wistfully. “He doesn’t fuck. He makes love.”

  That was the moment Mike finally decided that he’d never really had anything special with Kerry at all, not even briefly, that the gentle way Kerry had fucked him had nothing to do with the way Kerry felt. It was simply a question of technique. Mike left the Manhole that night without even jacking off. He didn’t feel like it anymore. He just went home.

  Now, as the applause for the skinny Ethel Merman finally died down, Mike saw that a small podium had been set up on the stage. Out walked the Master and Mistress of Ceremonies, a sexy man and woman dressed as Tarzan and Jane. It was Miles O’Beef and Lady Lesbos Lavender. Having them as MCs for the night had been somewhat controversial. The Silver Dick awards were just for gay films, hot man on man sex or solo scenes only. Miles and Lady Lesbos only did bi and straight films.

  Miles’ career had been established on the fact that he looked a bit like Miles O’Keeffe, who’d played the lead in the 1981 Tarzan film. But Miles O’Beef was well known for not caring what he fucked. He just needed a place for his sizable dick. His first and most famous film was the ape-man spoof he did with Lady Lesbos called He Swings Both Ways. Although Miles had never made an exclusively gay film, there was no denying that he was beautiful, so he was popular with the Silver Dick audience.

  As far as Lady Lesbos went, rumor had it that her name was a lie, that in her private life she had no lesbian proclivities at all. She just had sex with women on video to get the straight men hot. Even so, the fact that she could deep throat a guy as big as Miles and take a dick up her ass better than most of the gay men in the room gave her a great deal of esteem with this crowd.

  Miles and Lady Lesbos were making jokes and saying what an honor it was to be hosting the Silver Dick awards. They spoke surprisingly well and almost seemed like real actors, which Mike figured must be why they were asked to MC. When they introduced Larry Jones, who founded Stud Studios back in the early 70s, they called him the granddaddy of gay porn. Jones came up to present the first award and said, “To be honest, I’d much rather be somebody’s daddy than their granddaddy, but at my age I’ll take what I can get.”

  They started giving away all little awards first: Best Set Design, Best Lighting, even Best Food on Set, which Mike thought was pretty stupid. He pulled out a pen and a piece of paper and handed them to Rafael, saying, “Would you mind doing it? I told Dale I’d write down the winners.”

  “No problem,” Rafael said, and began dutifully taking notes.

  Looking along the row in front of them, Mike started counting how many people there he’d had sex with. Only three. Up on stage, set designers and lighting guys walked off with their shiny Silver Dicks in their hands. Every once in a while there would be a break between awards where they’d have another act. A comedian came out and did stand-up about the industry. A bunch of dancers did some kind of modern dance which made no sense to Mike, but the guys wore almost nothing and they looked hot, so that was cool. Miles and Lady Lesbos changed costumes a few times. A priest and a nun. A prisoner and a lady cop. Eventually they got to the more interesting awards, like Best Wrestling Video, Best Leather Scene. After that came Best Flip-flop, where the bottom and topped switched places midway, and then came Best Orgy.

  When they announced the winner of the Best Solo Scene, Mike perked up to hear the presenter call out, “Antonio Savage!” People started clapping and up walked Tony, the old waiter from Exposé. He accepted the award with the director and cameraman, and said, “Mostly, I’d like to thank my girlfriend for all her support.”

  Finally they came
to the nominees for Best Three-way. Mike was up for this award. He’d spent two days skewered like a rotisserie chicken in an expensive house in the Hollywood hills, and he was glad all the hard work had led to a nomination. The film, Confessions of a Hollywood Pool Boy, had sold well, and he’d been the star, but that was almost a year ago now.

  He sat on his hands as the presenter read out the other nominations for Best Three-way.

  “Mark Adonis, Max Pole, and Randy Scott in Dick Him When He’s Down, directed by Montgomery Boss, videography by Derrick Lamont. Enrique Verga, Ramón Fuerte, and Alfonso Gómez in Spanish Harlem Hunks…”

  The competition Mike was most worried about was from Spanish Harlem Hunks. It was a hot scene with three gorgeous men in an alley. He eyed Enrique Verga sitting up toward the front of the theatre, eager to collect his Silver Dick.

  “Good luck, Mike,” Rafael said, and squeezed his hand.

  The presenter said, “And the winner is…” then made a big show of opening the silver envelope in his hand. “Spanish Harlem Hunks!”

  Mike began clapping enthusiastically. It was the only way he could think of to hide his disappointment. He felt Rafael’s hand squeeze his leg.

  One of the production assistants to his left immediately leaned over and said, “You should have won, Billy.” Mike gave a pained grin and thanked him.

  Rafael leaned in from the other side. “I’m so sorry. At least you’ve already got a couple Silver Dicks under your belt.”

  Mike nodded slowly and continued staring straight ahead. He’d won two awards before – Best Newcomer in 1989 for Big Top Bottoms, and Best Leather Scene in 1990, when he was strapped into a sling and worked over by a guy wearing nothing but a black leather vest and a biker cap. Still, he would like to have won Best Three-way as well. He took solace now in the fact that the two awards that mattered the most to him tonight were still to come: Best Sexual Performer, and Best Director.

  Best Sexual Performer was Mike’s last chance for an award this evening. He didn’t think his chances of winning were very good. In the short history of the Silver Dicks, the Best Sexual Performer award had never once gone to a bottom. The industry still lionized all the big, macho tops.

  Mike wanted the award, in part, because of Luke Champion. Luke won Best Sexual Performer in 1991, and Mike thought that if he himself could win it this year, he’d finally be able to get Luke to agree to do a scene with him. It would be like being the Homecoming King and Queen together, only better. It would secure his place as a superstar.

  Rafael started whispering into his ear. “You are so great. You’re the best.”

  Finally he turned to look at Rafael. He knew this was why he kept Rafael at his side – this constant adoration. Deep down, Mike needed it.

  Before they’d met, Rafael hadn’t made a single movie, and sometimes Mike wondered if the real reason Rafael picked him up at the Tricky Dick’s a year ago was professional interest, a way to start a career. Within five minutes of being introduced, Rafael had said that he wanted to do porn. As they rolled around in bed later that first evening, Mike suspected that the sex was some kind of audition. It hadn’t bothered Mike. If Rafael was trying to prove what a good sexual performer he was, Mike certainly benefited from the demonstration. He’d been benefiting ever since.

  Up on stage now they gave away the awards for Best Music, Best Editing, and Best Videography. Rafael jotted down the names and titles. Finally it came time to announce the winner of the Best Sexual Performer. Mike felt his palms beginning to sweat. Rafael reached out and put a hand on his arm.

  Miles and Lady Lesbos stood on stage dressed as a doctor and a nurse and announced the presenter. It was Luke Champion himself. He swaggered out in his tight leather tux, smirking at the cheering crowd.

  “Each year at the Silver Dicks,” he said, “some lucky guy wins the Best Sexual Performer award, like I did two years ago.” His voice was low and steady. He flashed a cocky smile at the audience, and somebody whistled. “The award is given for work that sets a standard in the industry for high quality sexual performance. This year’s nominees are…”

  Mike knew this list by heart. Rick Hunt, a top. Derek Rockland, a top. Brett Titan, a top. And finally, last but not least, him. He was nominated for his work in Midnight Barracks, where he’d serviced a roomful of army guys in the final scene.

  He tried to tell himself he should just be happy with being nominated. It was good to be in such company. The other nominees were all highly regarded in the industry. He told himself it was okay to lose, but he didn’t really believe it. He wanted that award.

  Luke Champion finished reading the list of nominees. He cleared his throat as he slowly opened the small silver envelope. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m very pleased to announce to you that the winner of the 1993 Best Sexual Performer award goes to none other than the incredibly talented…” Here he paused. He cleared his throat again. Then he leaned forward and spoke directly into the microphone, lowering his voice further and speaking louder so that the words reverberated around the theatre. “Billy Knight, for his work in Midnight Barracks!”

  Mike felt like he’d been jolted in the chest. Everyone was clapping. Some were whistling. He was only vaguely aware of Rafael hugging him as he stood up and then began stepping over people to get to the end of the row. Several different hands slapped his ass as he went by. When he finally got to the aisle, it felt like the stage was a mile away, and he concentrated on not tripping, on moving down the faded red carpet smoothly and negotiating the steps up onto the stage with as much confidence and sex appeal as he could muster, given the swirling in his head and the tightness in his chest.

  Luke held out the Silver Dick – its smooth and chrome-like surface reflecting all the lights, the long shaft and the perfectly round silver balls. Mike swore there was something new in the way Luke stared at him as he approached the podium. His dream fuck was actually smiling at him, almost leering, and as Mike took the award in his hands, those thick arms reached around him and gave him an enormous hug right there on stage, brushing dark stubble against his cheek. It was all so abrupt and unexpected that Mike held the award awkwardly with one hand as he put the other around Luke’s wide back. For a moment he became lost in a wall of muscle, and what nobody in the audience heard that night were the two words Luke whispered into his ear. Congratulations, kid.

  Mike hadn’t prepared a speech, but he knew who he wanted to thank most of all. “I’d like to thank Steve Logan of Cougar Studios for his part in launching my career, and all the others I’ve worked with as well, including Gavin Kennedy of Magnum Man and Joe Butch over at Hard Bodies. But most importantly I’d like to thank Sasha Zahore, who has helped me and supported me more than anyone I’ve ever known in my entire life.” He wanted desperately to be able to express how much she meant to him, but he wasn’t sure how to put it. There was something big inside him where his thoughts of her lived, right next to his thoughts of Dale, something so large it felt beyond measure. “I carry her around inside me,” he blurted out. It was an odd thing to tell this audience, in this moment, but he paused and nodded to himself. That was it. That was what he felt for her. He gathered himself and moved forward. “Also, a huge thanks to my fans. I’d like to take this opportunity to make an announcement, something my fans will like. I’ve got a new movie coming out soon, The Best of Billy Knight: the Cougar Years. It’s gonna be hot. Check it out.” He gave his most charming smile and lifted his Silver Dick in the air. “Thank you so much.”

  The audience applauded wildly as he walked backstage. There was a photographer waiting for him, and he posed for a quick publicity shot with the Silver Dick in his hands, which was just a stand-in award. After the shot he had to give the award back to the photographer. Mike would have to pick up his own Silver Dick, with his name engraved, from a warehouse in Burbank the following week.

  Miles and Lady Lesbos were already announcing the next presenter as Mike slipped quietly back into the audience. People whispered cong
ratulations to him as he slid down the aisle toward Rafael, who gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and said, “You are my star.”

  Mike waited impatiently as they gave away the award for Best Assistant Director, then Best Videographer. Finally there were only three more awards to go: Best Director, Best Sex Scene, and Best Video of the Year.

  The Best Director award was making him anxious. He’d been worried about it all night, almost more than he’d been worried about his own nominations.

  Larry Jones came out again, this time to present the Best Director award, but he began by talking about what it was like to direct porn in the 70s, how it was completely illegal and how they had to keep their locations a secret so the cops wouldn’t raid the sets. Larry seemed excited, like an old man rambling on about his youth, about the good old days. Finally he read the nominations. “And the nominees for Best Director are: Weston Pierce for When Cops Go Bad, Blane Handsome for Man Quest, Taylor Cooper for Lumberjack Jack-off, and Sasha Zahore for My Swim Coach Loves Me.”

  Mike’s heart was thumping in his chest. He leaned back in his chair as though he were about to fall. He wanted it for Sasha so badly. Rafael leaned in and touched his arm again.

  This was the third time that the name ‘Sasha Zahore’ had been read out in a list of nominees for Best Director. She’d never won. Earlier that night Mike had tried to convince Sasha to come with him to the ceremony, but she absolutely refused, barking, “Why should I go? So they can snub me again? The motherfuckers.” She stayed home. Mike called up Rafael at the last minute and asked him to take Sasha’s place.