The Lanai was typical of southern California because its twelve free-standing housing modules ringed its perimeter. The complex was unusual because of its size, which occupied about a third of a square block, and the exceptional attention to detail and expense devoted to making The Lanai an oasis of botanical beauty and lush tropical tranquility.
Units at The Lani ranged in size from one-bedroom up to two-storied, three-bedroom apartments with cathedral ceilings and loft bedrooms. Every unit had a balcony and a fireplace. Lavish, thick, almost rainforest-like landscaping grew taller than the buildings around, between, and throughout the complex. A gym, a steam room and sauna, a large swimming pool with deck areas offering both sun and shade and a group-sized hot tub were only some of the amenities.
As nice as The Lani was, I knew I wouldn't be there long. Shortly after settling in, I started looking for a permanent home in the hills above Sunset Blvd. I first visited Los Angeles as a twenty-one-year-old but didn't stay long. Even then, I was smart enough to know I couldn't stay without becoming a washout, drug addict, or some other kind of loser. I left knowing I wanted to eventually live in Los Angeles, but not until I could do so comfortably in a house in its hills away from the craziness below.
I lived at The Lanai for eighteen months while the house I bought in Nichols Canyon underwent extensive remodeling. Besides being beautiful and pleasant, The Lanai was populated by friendly people of diverse ages, races, backgrounds, and cultures. Life at The Lani was relaxed, enjoyable, and even fun. Everyone helped make it so. Everyone except one disruptive to the point of being nasty teenage boy. His name was Tommy.
Tommy, who I estimated to be about sixteen when I first encountered him, lived with his father and a brother who looked to be about a year or two younger. I never saw any evidence of a mother being present.
Tommy made life unpleasant for just about everyone. He put dye in the hot tub. No one could prove he did that, but we all knew it was him. Several times, weights and other equipment in the gym had jam or jelly smeared on them to the extent that it was obviously done intentionally. Again, not something that could be proven to have been done by Tommy, but no one doubted he was the guilty one. The complex had secure underground parking. On several occasions, cars, including my Benz SL, were broken into.
Complex management and residents talked with Tommy's dad, but there was no improvement in the disruptive boy's behavior.
What angered me most was that Tommy seemed to take particular pleasure in inviting friends to the pool and then, when he knew there were LGBTQ residents present, inciting his friends to loudly tell homophobic jokes and use such slurs to torment nearby people.
I had heard about this but was never around to personally experience it until one afternoon when I happened to be at the pool when Tommy and four of his friends arrived. There were a lot of people around the pool, only a few of whom I knew to be gay. Even so, it was only minutes before Tommy loudly launched into the telling of what he thought to be a hilarious "gay" joke. His buddies chimed in, and an ugly but thankfully short bout of homophobic humor ensued.
To anyone watching, as Tommy and his friends carried on, I lay on a lounge reading a book. Behind the lenses of my Ray Bans, my eyes never wavered from Tommy. He was definitely a young punk who thought he was bad-assed. But he was also a hot young guy acting up and screaming for attention. I suspected he would probably get attention in ways he didn't enjoy someday.
I eventually found the house I wanted, bought it and began extensive remodeling. Eighteen months after moving in at The Lani, I moved to my home on Astral Drive. Life was good. When the lease on my Benz expired, I flipped it for one on a Porsche Boxter S.
Late one night on my way home from an enjoyable and profitable evening spent with other Beverly Hills - Bel Air Poker Club members, I was stopped at a traffic signal on Santa Monica Blvd. at N. Sweetzer St., just a block or so from The Lani.
As I listened to music, I glanced at a young guy who looked about eighteen or nineteen years old and was standing on the corner to my right, obviously hustling. It took a couple of seconds for me to recognize him because he had matured quite a bit, and when I did, I almost laughed out loud. Right in front of me on a Santa Monica Boulevard meat rack corner stood straight bad boy Tommy peddling his ass, or at least his dick.
Before that thought cleared my brain, he noticed me looking at him.
"Nice car," he yelled to me, smiling.
Interesting, I thought. It's been a year, at least, since I moved from The Lanai. Karma put Tommy on this corner tonight. He has to be at least eighteen now and has no idea who I am because I have a different car.
"Nice boy," I yelled back through the open window, smiling back at him.
"You want to give me a ride?" he asked?
"You may not be going where I am," I teased.
"I could be," he grinned.
"Sure, get in," I said as the light changed.
He practically leaped from the sidewalk onto the passenger seat.
"Damn," He said as his little butt settled down into the leather bucket. "How fast will this go?"
I threw the Porsche into first gear and gunned it enough to force him back against the seat.
"Fast," I replied, looking straight ahead.
As we drove east on Santa Monica, he told me his name was Tommy. Yes, I thought, it certainly is. I did give him a couple points for not lying. That surprised me. He also informed me he was hustling. I love it when a boy assures me he is not a rocket scientist. He told me he needed to get that out of the way before we got too far away from "his corner" in case I decided I didn't want to pay or drive him back. I assured him that I understood.
I told Tommy I didn't mind paying, but I wanted to know how much and what I got for my money.
Tommy was about as good a hustler as he was a thug. His first give was that I could suck his dick for forty bucks.
Forty dollars, I thought, so that's what street trade was selling itself for nowadays.
I knew Ron, my long-time "Boy" and partner, was staying at his girlfriend's place. The cards had favored me that night. Why not treat myself to an evening of having Tommy pay for his years of misdeeds? I would do that, but I wanted to haggle with him first.
I got Tommy down to thirty dollars. Although he was straight and had never done so before, he would suck my cock thirty bucks, but I couldn't cum in his mouth, and I could do whatever I wanted to him except fuck his ass, he said.
