Lost and Found: Erotic Pets Read online

  “Scared to fuck it up again. I shouldn’t have let my boy...”

  “What? Shouldn’t have let him work? Go out alone? Come on man, you know you don’t want a pretty boy staying at home all pampered.”

  I scowl. “Do I have no fucking privacy? Even a bloody foreigner knows how Rob died?”

  Nick shrugs. “The guys care about you.”

  I mutter something sour.

  “Let them. John: let people love you. What’s so fucking hard about that?”

  “Piss off.”

  “Charming! You, mate, need someone to teach you a lesson. None of those guys will say it to you. But you don’t need to get laid. You need to get loved.”

  I’m ready to smash his nose again, but he’s ready for me -- his mouth is over mine. Our teeth bump and clash, and I taste blood as he wrestles me flat to the ground and jams his tongue in.

  Shit. He’s got the mechanical advantage and I can’t lever him off.

  “Say it, John. Say you need love.”

  I try to knee him, but he’s ready for that, too.

  “I’m going to keep kissing you until you admit it.”

  Pressing my stubborn button never works, and although I don’t want to kiss him again, I’m not crying uncle.

  Hell. I’m between a rock and a hard place here. He’s a rough, exciting kisser, and I’m kissing him back. Shit.

  “Say it,” he breathes every so often, but I’m not giving in. Not even when he starts grabbing my ass.

  “Pervert,” I say.

  “Any port in a storm,” he says smugly, and yanks my zip down. “Face it, John. You like this. Or you’d say you want love, and have me stop.”

  It’s hard to deny being aroused when your prick is springing out of your jeans as soon as it’s released, but I do my damnedest to resist... oh, who am I kidding... I grab his ass and unzip him in turn.

  We’re rolling in the mud and leaves again and this time we’re pulling frantically at each other’s pricks, and brutally kissing each other. We hump each other’s thighs and slam ourselves into the dirt. Nick stops kissing long enough to bite my shoulder hard, and I yell and spurt onto his damp dirty T-shirt, and a few seconds later his come is hitting my belly.

  We’re gasping, and I’m almost sobbing.

  “Say it,” says Nick softly.

  I moan, and to my own infinite amazement say, “I want to love someone.”

  “And?” says Nick sternly.

  “I want someone to love me.”

  “Then let them, you ass.”

  I growl, and we break our clinch. We’re filthy so we jump back in the creek to get rid of the mud, leaves, blood, and come. We walk back through the woods together, dripping, and commiserating about owning boys. After the last hour, I’m no longer surprised to learn he’s a serious owner. He’s left his boy in England for a month.

  He grins. “Jos is revising his dissertation and preparing for his PhD defense. I’m a distraction for the poor boy. Figured I’d give him a sabbatical from me while I visited some old friends. It’ll be his last bit of freedom for some time.”

  The fireworks are still going on so we make it to the back porch unnoticed. Nick’s bag is in the living room since he’s been sleeping on the front porch and we both get into dry clothes. We move to the porch and act as if we’ve been there with cigars and scotches all along. Twink sees us, and scampers over.

  “Ben wouldn’t look for you,” he says indignantly. “He said he’d check if you were alive after the display.”

  Nick laughs. “Smart man.”

  “Sirs, I didn’t tell anyone else, but... um...” He stares at us.

  I touch my eye and Nick touches his nose.

  “Tetherball,” says Nick, and twink dissolves into giggles. His own tetherball injury from Nick is still resplendent.

  The fireworks are doing their final bursts, and we take advantage of the explosions to blend back in around the fire. Kyle has been released and Laurie is showing he can be a good friend -- he’s massaging Kyle’s cramped thighs for him.

  ***

  No one says anything in the morning even though I do have a black eye, and Nick’s nose is swollen. Simon runs a finger down it and snaps it back into alignment. Nick gives me a look.

  “Si’s done that for me before.”

  “I bet,” I mutter, but we preserve our truce. I want things calm, as Tommy’s owner is coming over this morning.

  He and Mike had a phone conversation, and he’s indicated he’s willing to listen to reasonable offers. He’s promised Tommy won’t be in trouble for asking to leave, and Tommy has given us no reason to think his owner is vindictive.

  To my surprise, Tommy’s owner arrives in a minivan. He’s in his forties, and looks tired. He shakes hands, and we sit down. I notice he has a wedding band on, but I don’t say anything. He nods amiably enough at Tommy, but says, “You know kid, any other job you can do is going to take you ten years to earn enough to pay me back.”

  “I know,” says Tommy wistfully. “I’m just tired of being a whore.”

  “If you can give me your loan balance and thirty percent of your projected earnings for the next two years, I’ll wipe it clean.”

  Tommy sighs. “Are you still delivering me to the Brentley job this afternoon? I’ll put my scooter in the back of the van if you’ll give me a ride there.”

  “Not so fast,” says Ben. “We’ll buy him for the loan and ten percent.”

  Tommy and I are equally amazed. I hadn’t thought the guys would actually offer to buy him. I thought they’d just put pressure on his owner to release Tommy like they did to get Jamie’s owner to disappear.

  They dicker, and then all too fast, Ben is giving him an envelope and the guy is leaving. He pats Tommy on the cheek and says, “Be a good boy, now.”

  Tommy looks at Ben in a minor panic. “What...?”

  Ben grins. “You’re property of our foundation. You can work for us while you figure your life out.”

  “Ben! We’re meant to be rescuing boys, not pimping them.”

  “Did I say he’d work as a rent boy?” says Ben rolling his eyes. “He’s your new live-in.”

  “My cabin is not a fucking pet sanctuary!”

  Ben slams his fist on the picnic table. “You challenged us to put our money where our mouths were. We have. Now, you bloody well step up to where we put the money.”

  “Ben,” I hiss. “I don’t want this.”

  “Six months,” interrupts Mike. “You and the boy sign a six-month contract. He figures out what he wants to do with himself, your group helps him get there, and then he can start repayments. John -- you’ll have got him trained in some financial self-discipline by then.”

  Tommy has nodded already.

  Oh, fuck. I have a boy.

  Some of the guys leave after lunch. I was more than ready for the guys to leave after a week of company -- even Mike and Chris -- except now I’ll be alone with Tommy. He’s nervously adjusting to the idea that he’ll be running my kitchen tomorrow. He’s opening up cabinets and checking on things. Between the packing and Tommy fluttering around, I’ve had enough. I go back to the porch. Ben is marveling that Tommy’s owner was married. Mike laughs.

  “Nothing wrong with marriage, dude.” He waves a beefy paw, and I realize his steel ring is on his left hand and that Chris has one, too. “Canada last year.”

  We’re saved from having to do awkward macho congratulations as we’re interrupted by twink and Chris. Chris is giving me a hug and saying “Thank you, it’s the closest thing to Rob knowing...” I frown, and twink scoots out of reach.

  “Sorry, Dr. Fell, sir. I thought Chris would like a copy of your doctoral graduation photo.”

  I’m about to yell at them both, but the emotion in Chris’ eyes stops me. Mike is also shaking his head very slightly.

  “Charlie thought it would be like showing Rob that you made it,” says Chris solemnly.

  I take a deep breath, and just say I knew it was a mistake to l
et Ben and twink talk me into going to my Ph.D. graduation and an even worse one to have let them come and take a photo of me in my academic robes.

  Chris has put the photo into his bag already, and Mike’s standing to shake my hand goodbye. Their departure provokes a few more into going. Nick’s going to stay with Simon and Laurie for a week, and he hands me his card with a, “Come and visit if you’re ever in England.”

  I go back inside -- Dexter, Tommy, and twink are in the storeroom squawking about something.

  “Dex -- we’re leaving!” yells his owner.

  Dexter shoots out giggling. He looks at me, and giggles even more, and runs out of the door. Ben and I trade looks, and head for the storeroom. Guilty squeaks greet us. The contents of my mom’s steamer trunk are strewn around and twink has his nose in a photo album.

  I recognize the cover as the one covering my pre-school years, and groan.

  “I like your Harley better than your trike,” manages twink before I clip his ear, bend him over the trunk, and spank his ass soundly.

  “You still owe me a good fuck, boy,” I hiss in his ear as I finish. “You wait until the next time Ben loans you out. I’ve got a sling and a St. Andrew’s cross now.”

  Twink doesn’t look at all contrite as he wriggles away and seeks Ben’s amused shelter.

  “What were you doing in my things, brat?”

  Tommy shuffles. “It’s my fault, sir. I saw your sewing machine, and I was going to make a moving in present with the bandanas since I won’t need them any more. I thought the sewing supplies might be in the trunk...” He hangs his head.

  I frown. “Boy, you belong to me. How can you give me a present? I own you already.”

  He shuffles, but also looks reassured that I said aloud that I own him.

  “Get to work.”

  Tommy tidies hastily while I walk out with Ben and twink. Twink is babbling about what we can do at next year’s retreat, and I give him a pissy look. As if I’ll do this again! We arrange to meet in a week for them to witness whatever contract I and Tommy cobble together. After they leave, I need some solitary space, so I walk down the track to my mailbox. I’ve finally lived in one place long enough that alumni magazines are catching me. I flip through as I walk back and feel dispirited by my classmates’ lives listed at the back.

  The little pink Vespa looks ridiculous parked next to my Hog, and I shake my head. I can hear the sewing machine whirring as I climb my cabin steps. It sounds homey and welcoming, but it doesn’t feel that way. Tommy’s just a temporary boy.

  I loiter on the porch and sort through the rest of the mail. All junk except for a postcard of Folsom Street. A big ‘Brad’ scrawled on the back with an honest to God San Francisco postmark. I laugh. God, he’s a stereotype already, but at least someone’s figured out what they want.

  Lost and Found 2: Exotic Pets

  Copyright © 2008 by Syd McGinley

  ISBN: 978-1-60370-418-2, 1-60370-418-3

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Torquere Press, Inc.: Single Shot electronic edition / June 2008

  Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680