Call Boy

I took a train over to Manny's. The boy called me up and said how about it... in his sexiest, huskiest voice. I'd settled on the couch with Josh. We'd smoked a couple of pipes. I wasn't sure if I was going, or not. I sat back on the couch and thought about catching PT. I'd always expect him to come by PT because he hasn't got a car, but I hadn't done it once in the time I've not had a car.

But then Josh convinced me when he said, Aren't you going over to your boyfriend's place, with a kind of a snarl. He spat the words out in frustration, as the guy he's been (trying to) seeing had cancelled, yet again and Josh was, shall we say, really up for it. It looked to him like I was just taking my guy for granted.

Now I wouldn't exactly say that it was spite that got me off my arse, but it wouldn't be far wrong.

Yeah I am, I said, as I got to my feet.

You are? said Josh.

I'd never caught a train over to Manny's place before and since I get the car on Saturday - yay - I kind of thought I should, at least once. You know, so it looks good... better. Besides, if I stayed home it would only be Josh moaning about Paul the Slav.

Yes, I said... because I, um, er, can. Big smile. Ha, ha. See you. Another big smile.

The trains were late at Parliament and everybody looked cross and frustrated; tired, sweaty faces staring at the television screen - well, at least they are used to that - in vain. People were on their mobile phones telling loved ones how late they were going to be, or just whining down the phone at them. Some one to talk to. never be alone. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, who cares, I thought. May be it is a conspiracy between the train companies and the phone companies to bolster profit.

How cute are the train stations on the Broadmeadows line; Kennsington, New Market, Ascot Vale. Just adorable, picture book style.

Manny was gabbering on about the beautiful Stuart when I got there. Stuart had given Manny all his old videos, as he's replaced them all on DVD. There were boxes of them.

How does he afford to, well, live? I asked.

He'd kill me for telling you, said Manny. But...

So, the beautiful Stuart is a male prostitute. I should have thought of that (not sure why, actually?); nice car, nice apartment, no visible means of support.

He paid me cash for my Mk2? Was that a give away?

Hot arse. Gymed body. Alleged, big, thick cock. Handsome face.

Manny said it would cost $400 to watch him and Stuart make out. I laughed.

Blue eyes. Cropped hair. What else is a boy to do with all of those natural advantages?

Stuart is studying nursing at uni, I guess the two could be compatible occupations - both looking after the well-being of others.

I thought Stuart was like Manny and lived on welfare, study grants, hand outs. Manny is Greek, so of course he lives on a pension, but Stuart has money and nice things, and isn't perpetually broke, which tends to point to either hooker or drug dealer. Apparently, the former, a high class call boy, at 30. I'm sure his mother is proud. He used to work at the casino, it's where he first started getting offers. He is a very good looking, sexy boy, I'm not surprised. He just oozes sexiness, naturally. Before that he was a chauffeur for a prostitute. I've never made the connection, before. I just thought he went to uni.

Manny reasoned that he'd only have to do two clients per week, which would only be two hours in the whole week...

What else am I going to use my gym-toned body for? said Manny. Four hundred dollars and I've doubled my pension.

Of course, Man.

Stuart says he could set me up with two clients.

Yes, Man.

I slid my hands up his T-shirt and twisted his nipples. His eyes glazed over. He kissed me passionately.