Chapter 3

It was a slow night at the club -- which wasn't unusual -- and the minutes dragged into hours. Wade played the piano slowly and listlessly and stared over the mahogany toward the bar, the same bar with the same crowd night after night, and wished only that midnight would hurry up and arrive so that he could go home to Rick.

There was a fair-sized crowd -- but still it was the same crowd -- and Wade watched the men doing their old routines up at the bar or in the lounge. He was growing tired of his job, and sometimes he wondered why he even bothered with it. He really didn't need the money. He supposed he just needed something to do with himself, some kind of work.

One of the advantages of working in a gay bar was being able to observe the customers. They were so excessive, so extremely ridiculous or extremely funny or extremely sad.

Wade glanced inadvertently over to his left and saw an old friend walk into the lounge. At first, out of instinct, he was glad to see the fellow, a good-looking young man named Greg. But when Greg began crossing towards the piano, Wade suddenly felt unnerved by the prospect of a conversation. Rick was on his mind tonight, and he wasn't in the mood for gossip and talk of old love affairs. Too, none of Wade's friends really liked Rick. Most of them didn't consider Rick worthy of being his lover, and some of Wade's friends even found Rick crude and obnoxious and told him so to his face. Greg was one of those who told him so -- frequently.

Wade grew momentarily defensive as Greg approached. But the man had a wide smile on his face, a smile with warmth and genuine sincerity in it, and Wade let himself smile back.

"How are you?" Greg asked, coming to stand beside the piano.

Wade brought the song he was playing to an end, then nodded. "I'm fine. And you?" He reached for his drink. "What have you been doing with yourself?"

Greg shrugged, "Not much. You look bored, Wade."

"Yes, I am bored."

"You should quit this job. God knows you've got plenty of money to live on without working."

"I've got to be doing something, Greg. Can't just sit around. Besides, I like music."

"Hell, you should go to New York... go somewhere that could do you some good. What's a musician doing in Los Angeles to begin with?"

"Guess I haven't had much time to think about that sort of stuff," Wade said. "A career or anything like that."

"Has Rick been keeping you all that busy?"

"Don't start in on Rick, Greg."

"Ah," Greg shook his head with mock despair. "They call it love. Or do they call if masochism? Well, if you really enjoy the suffering and feel that you deserve it, buddy, then I suppose I shouldn't find fault."

"Cut it out, Greg. All right, so Rick is a little bit selfish and demanding."

"And suppose he doesn't have a job and he cheats with other guys..." Greg quickly added.

Annoyed, Wade went back to playing. "It's my own business, Greg," he said. "I like making him happy, so what's wrong with that?"

"I just like you too much to see you get treated like shit by that bastard," Greg said. "You'd think he at least wouldn't cheat on you. Not the way you treat him. Hell, anytime he's the least bit horny, he snaps his fingers and you dive into his crotch or drop your pants to relieve him. And he even comes in the bars and talks about his tricks. Really, Wade, I wish you'd start facing some facts about Rick."

"I love him, Greg. And he doesn't cheat all that much. Now I'd rather drop the subject."

"Okay. What are you doing after work? A bunch of us were thinking about getting together at my place tonight."

"Thanks, Greg, but I'll probably be busy. You see, tonight is Rick's birthday and I was going to take off early and..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get the picture. Take him out to a nice midnight dinner, wine and dine him, then hop in the hay."

"Greg, I..."

"Look, kid, I understand, believe me, I do. We'll make it some other time, right?"

"Right, Greg."

"See you around."

"See you, Greg."

As he watched his friend walk off, Wade felt even more irritated. He knew that he should have told Greg to go to hell, but deep inside he knew that what Greg and his other friends said about Rick was not so far from the truth.

But he was hooked on the guy, that was what none of them could seem to understand. They could not see the uncontrollable need he had for Rick, they could not see how deep that hook was in him. They could not understand how one seductive look from Rick, even an occasional warm, off-hand remark, could stir his blood to the boiling point and obliterate all the pain Rick caused him other times. Even when he knew that he was being used by Rick, just the fact that he was there and living with him was all the promise and reward that Wade needed.

It scared him, though, particularly when other people intimated him, as Greg had done tonight. I scared him that the pain of Rick's hook hat become not only tolerable, but normal, expected. It scared him that he could no longer even picture their relationship on any different level, that he no longer even anticipated a change in Rick or himself.

As always, he put the negative thoughts from his mind. He would think about it all later, much later. It was Rick's birthday and he had planned a special evening for the both of them. They would be together tonight, he would make Rick smile, would make Rick happy tonight.

He couldn't get the conversation with Greg out of his mind, couldn't forget about it all night. But as the hours passed and the time grew closer to the moment when he would be with Rick, Wade decided not to let it bother him, thought only of Rick, and forced his mood to shift back into a pleasant frame of mind.

The bar was quieter than usual, so he left even earlier than he had planned. As he walked out into the warm spring air and over to the parking lot to his little sports-car, Wade felt the familiar stirring in his groin, felt his cock hardening in his pants at the simple knowledge that the minutes were moving faster and faster toward that moment when he would be with Rick in bed. As he drove down the streets and out on the freeway, he felt his prick with one hand, outlining its hard impression in his trousers, and recalled fondly a night when he had jerked Rick off as he drove down the expressway late one night, the tension and furtive, reckless excitement of the experience. He was getting hornier, and hornier.

Wade was surprised to see that all the lights in the house were out except one in the bathroom upstairs. It seemed a little early for Rick to have gone to bed, even taking into consideration the fact that he probably didn't remember that it was his own birthday.

Silently, Wade crossed the lawn until he was in front of the door. He slipped his key in quietly and, opened the lock and went inside.

He had just started up the dark stairs when he heard it. It was like a knife in the dark. There were voices coming from the upstairs bedroom.

"No, Rick. No, please... it hurts!"

"Go ahead, you little faggot, spread those legs. Shit, baby, this ain't the first time... you know you love to get fucked by me." It was Rick's voice.

Wade ran up the stairs, ran frantically, totally beside himself with feelings of rage and jealousy he didn't think he was capable of harboring. He knew what he would see and he knew that it was going to hurt him, but he had to see for himself.

There was a boy he had never seen before on the bed, a very young, very little boy, surely not over eighteen years old. He was very pretty, long, shoulder-length brown hair, a face like a fashion model. He was on his haunches, leaning up on his elbows with his back turned to Rick and his head turned down to the bed. Rick was on his knees behind the kid, fucking him dog-style. He was right in the middle of a thrust when Wade walked into the room and turned on the light -- his big cock was half buried in the boy's widespread ass.

Rick seemed a little annoyed that Wade had interrupted his ass-fuck. He scowled a little and said, "What the hell are you doing home so early?"

Wade could not speak, he only stared down at the floor.

"Well," Rick chuckled, "at least you got here in time for some entertainment. I want you to meet someone." He slapped the kid on his ass and said, "Hey, Billy, look up for a minute." Billy raised his face, a bit sheepishly, and held Wade's eyes. "Billy," Rick said, "this is the guy that gets my dick every night. Wade, this here is Billy. Real little whore, regular bitch in heat. Just seventeen and fucks like a pussy already. I've been fucking him off and on for about a month or two now... he picked me up on a street one night, believe it or not. Yeah, this little kid picked me up. Really something, isn't he? Took me into an alley and sucked me off behind a garbage can... right downtown. Ain't that right, bitch?" he laughed, slapping the kid's ass harder this time.

"That's right, sir," the kid said in a thin, strained voice.

"Hell," Rick said, "if I'd known you were going to be coming in early, Wade, I'd have fucked him already and gotten his Nellie-ass out of here. But as it is well, you might as well get in on it too. Come on over here and play with my balls while I fuck this bitch."

Wade stood against the wall, glowering furiously.

"Ah, shit," Rick grimaced. "Don't tell me you're mad?"

Wade said nothing, only stared.

"All right," Rick said, "have it your way. Give me one minute and we'll talk it over." And with that he returned his undivided attention to the ass that was raised up so high for his convenience. He patted the ass a couple of times and then, as if oblivious to Wade's presence, with singe-minded absorption, he began to complete what he had started with Billy. He drew back his flat, taut hips and then lunged forward with all his might, rocking the squatting figure all over the bed. Billy moaned and whimpered a little bit. In a hurry now, anxious to get his rocks off and see what Wade had to say, Rick barked gruffly at the teenage boy, "Don't move you bitch," and then proceeded to assault the tender young asshole like a battering bull, slamming his big cock into the asshole as far as it would go, right down to his huge, hairy balls, and then withdrawing to the very tip of the cockhead before whamming it home again. It only took him about five thrusts; he groaned and began to come. Bored with the teenage trick even before he had finished coming, Rick ripped his prick out of the butt, jerked it out ruthlessly and without concern for the discomfort it caused young Billy. Globs of his sticky white come spurted in jets down the backs of the kid's thighs as the head of the cock came tearing out of the puckered lips.

Rick grabbed a towel and began wiping his cock off. "Get out of here," he said to Billy, who rose, embarrassed and a little frightened, and hurriedly began to dress, even though Rick's hot sperm was still dripping from his asshole and running down his practically hairless legs.

The moment the kid had gone, Wade stared murderously at Rick and said, "You bastard."

Rick rolled his eyes, genuinely perplexed and angry that Wade could find fault in his behavior. "What the fuck," he shrugged. "That kid means nothing to me... just a nice tight asshole is all. Nothing to get upset about, Wade."

Wade went towards the man. He drew back his arm and, without thinking, slapped Rick violently across the face. The slap was more of a shock than anything else; Rick turned livid with fury, raised his naked arm, and backhanded Wade swiftly and calculatedly across the chin, knocking him backward, causing him to reel sideways and crash into the wall. He felt the blood trickling down his chin, tasted it from the gash in his upper lip. It did not even hurt, though; somehow, it was all just very humiliating.

"Don't you ever hit me again, you fuckin' cocksucker," Rick said to him in an oddly calm, dark voice.

Wade looked at his feet, almost crying. He was ashamed and miserable, this was not what he had wanted at all. He reproached himself for having gotten so upset. After all, he knew, just as everyone did, that Rick was not faithful to him, had never made any promise to be. It was just that Greg had disturbed him so by what he had said in the bar and the fact that this was the first time he had actually caught Rick bringing another boy to the apartment that he, Wade Matthews, paid the rent on. And, too, it was supposed to have been such a good night... all his plans.

"I'm sorry, Rick," Wade heard himself apologizing, knowing that he was a fool to do so, but only wanting the ugliness to be over with, wanting to be able to pretend that what had just occurred in this room had not happened at all. He went on, making it even worse, making himself an even bigger fool in Rick's eyes. "I know it was all my fault," he said. "Please don't be angry with me, Rick, not tonight... I..." His voice trailed off dismally.

"Cocksucker," Rick said quietly, in the same dark, ominous voice, "I think it's about time you and I got down to the nitty-gritty about a few things. I'm gonna take you somewhere tonight. To a little party I happen to know about across town. It's about time you learned a few things about me, baby, and learned to accept me for what I am... I'll guarantee you one thing, too. It's not one of them namby-pamby, Nellie-ass camp parties that your kind of friends throw, either. You interested?"

Wade felt a chill rush through his limbs; he felt a little sick and weak at the knees. He had to go. He knew he had to go. It was for Rick, Rick demanded it. The plans he had made for the birthday celebration would have to wait, perhaps tomorrow night.

"Do you really want me to go, Rick?" he asked softly.

"I invited you, didn't I."

"All right, then, Rick. Whatever you say."

"Okay, baby," he said, reaching over and grabbing Wade behind the neck to pull him close. Wade noticed that his grip was tighter and more forceful than before, somehow even more insistent. Wade felt a thrill of anticipation run down his spine.

They pulled up in front of the house where the party was to be held. It seemed a very average place, a large house on a good piece of property about fifty yards back from the highway.

"This is it?" Wade asked quizzically as they pulled into the driveway.

"Sure. What did you expect?"

"I don't know. I just thought for some reason that it would be... I don't know... different."

"It will be different, don't worry about that," Rick told him.

When the doorbell was answered, Wade felt another tingle of excitement go through him. The man who answered the door was very big and muscular, a man with a craggy, bellicose face, deep-set eyes, and an exquisitely developed body shown off in a white T-shirt and a pair of tight, faded Levi's. Beneath the flimsy T-shirt his chest could be seen. It was covered with thick mats of dark, curly hair. He looked at Wade for a few moments with cold, incisive eyes, shifting his lingering gaze over the full length of the young blond's body, then back up to his face. A vaguely seductive look flickered across the rugged; hard-set face as the man turned to look at Rick and nod his approval. Rick introduced the man as Clint, and they all moved inside.

The house was very warm inside from the presence of so many bodies.