Saturday, July 4, 2009

Dancing in the Dark by Jenna Byrnes

Unlocking his black SUV, Nick climbed inside. Checking his appearance in the rearview mirror, he nodded, satisfied. He still had the thickest head of hair in the group. Slightly overgrown, brown wavy curls wisped around his face and neck. His eyes were a clear, dark brown. He needed glasses to read, and it pissed him off, but otherwise, he didn’t feel his age. Daily workouts at the gym kept him in good physical shape. He was content, and wasn’t sure why Gil suddenly felt so old.

He fastened his seatbelt and pulled out into traffic slowly, driving with extra caution. He’d only had three beers, but didn’t want to take any chances. His record was spotless, and needed to stay that way.

The sunset cast an orange hue across the city, and he reached for his sunglasses. Slipping them on, the last of the blinding glare disappeared. Nick liked that time of night. He enjoyed cruising the neighborhood, watching the activity. Some New Yorkers preferred not to drive, taking busses or the subway everywhere. Nick loved being behind the wheel, having the freedom to go wherever he pleased.

He passed the Hub; the retail center of the South Bronx. Groups of people strolled casually down the sidewalks, taking advantage of the mild spring evening. Everything seemed quiet, without incident, and he drove on.

Several blocks further along, he spotted two men talking under a street lamp as it flickered on. Nick slipped into a no parking-loading zone at the corner, so he could pull up next to them. He pressed a button, lowering his passenger side window. “What’s going on tonight?”

The heavier of the two men leaned into his vehicle. “What are you looking for, sweetie?” He was greasy-haired, effeminate, and homely as hell.

Nick clucked his tongue and started to speak.

“He’s a cop, Sandy,” the man on the sidewalk muttered.

Sandy’s hands flew into the air as he scrambled back from the SUV. “I didn’t suggest anything. I just said hi.”

“It’s a bad idea to stand around on street corners, Sandy,” Nick told him, raising his sunglasses with one hand. “Maybe you ought to get on home.”

“On my way.” The man took a jogging step down the sidewalk, then stopped and looked at his friend. “You coming, Squeak?”

Nick glanced at the tall, thin man. His hair was short and spiked in front, cut up over his ears, but long, to his shoulders in back. “Nice mullet. I need to see your ID.”

Squeak rolled his eyes at Sandy. “Apparently not. Looks like Barney Fife wants to give me some shit before I go.” He leaned into the vehicle. “Do you have a hard-on for me, or something?”

“Show me ID, or get in the car,” Nick said firmly.

“Sorry, Squeak!” Sandy ran down the sidewalk, vanishing around the first corner.

“Fuck me.” Squeak opened the door and got in.

Nick took off without speaking, readjusting his sunglasses and driving purposefully down the road. He turned left, went a few blocks, and turned right. He finally tossed a sideways glance at his passenger. “Was that an invitation?”

“Oh, yeah.” Squeak smiled. “You never answered. Do you have a hard-on for me, or what?”

“Come see for yourself.”

The younger man leaned across the console between their bucket seats, and grabbed Nick’s crotch. “Whoop, there it is! Just for me?”

“Only you.” Nick cupped the back of his head, caressing. “Damned, new fangled automobiles. A roomy front seat used to make sex in the car so much easier.”

“My place is close,” Squeak whispered, rubbing Nick’s erection through his jeans.

“Your place is a room, and you share the bathroom with six other guys. It’s disgusting. No thanks. We’ll be at my house in a few minutes.”

“All right, then. We’ll just have to make do.” He tugged at Nick’s jeans, popping the snap open. Squeak unzipped the fly and slipped his hand inside.

“Jesus!” Nick groaned, sliding down in his seat to give the hand better access.

“Like that?” His fingers circled Nick’s bulging cock and squeezed.

“Duh. Yeah.”

Squeak chuckled, pulling Nick’s cock out into the open air. He drew the skin up and down. “You do like that.” With his other hand, he reached for the cock head and swiped a drop of pre-cum from the slit. He sucked the finger into his mouth seductively.

“Christ, babe. Don’t make me come, yet. It’d be a fucking mess.”

“I know.” Squeak released his staff. “And you’d rather make your mess fucking. I can live with that.” He moved back to his side of the car.

“We’re almost there.” He turned onto his street in the quiet, older neighborhood.

“I’ll shower fast.”

“I might join you.” Nick pressed the button on his garage door opener, and drove straight in. He lowered the door, relieved he didn’t have to shove his cock back into his jeans.