Kate was never happier than when a new boyfriend finally allowed her to dress him. She knew she had good taste, after all, wasn't she always turned out perfectly? After a hard morning in the stores Owen stood in front of her, looking the way she had always wanted him to; gone were those wretched over-long, loose skate pants. No more long sleeved t-shirts with the elbows blown through. The olive chinos, flat fronted and easy in the leg showed off his firm buttocks and mountain biker's thighs to perfection. Kate knew he was a little self-conscious in "city clothes" as he called them, so she hadn't forced him into the fine charcoal wool pants she had preferred and had struck a happy bargain with the chinos.
In place of the nasty baggy t-shirt was a light v-necked cotton sweater over a fine, tight t-shirt that clung a little to his skin. "...are you sure this looks... right, K? I'm not sure, it's all a bit, you know, different."
"Different better, sweetie, much better." Kate hit him with her 150 watt smile and Owen smiled back, plucking at his pectorals and shifting in the Birkenstocks she had decided on in the store a block down from the loft.
"Time for lunch I think, hon. You want seafood?" Feed him up on protein and then finish off the clothes hunt in an hour or two.
"Seafood would be great. How much is this stuff anyhow?" Clouds of doubt scudded across his lightly tanned face "I've only got fifty bucks on me..."
"Don't worry, I'll charge it. Let work pick up the tab." Working as a stylist had its perks. Cheap clothes, frequent changes of scenery and the perfect pick up line for men, Kate smiled to herself and passed the corporate charge card across.
Owen was a real find. A tour of the local skate parks had turned up a whole gallery of "characters". Guys whose main objective in life appeared to be accumulating as many scars and piercings as possible. Kate had put models in Givenchy in front of them and used them as the perfect urban backdrop. After all, what could be more urban than a 19 year old with a home-done crop, an ear full of rings and the scars of gashes he and his friends had sewn up?
One of them had been cute enough to interest her; she had already nabbed Owen's number by then, and had decided to try one of these ripped up youths for size. After the shoot she'd packed the models and photographer off and turned her attention to the guy who she'd asked to stick around when they wrapped.
Al, Alex, whatever he called himself, had a tear that ran up his ribcage that fascinated her. He said that he had been riding a concrete wall downtown when he had hit a peg planted by the building's facilities people to catch out skaters. He said he had been lucky, that he'd only caught his side, rather than crack his head. "Ain't no home fix for a busted skull," he'd said, brightly.
Happily, Al was a clean "dirty skate boy" and had cheerfully jogged off into the shower at her apartment when she had suggested it. While Al showered Kate had slipped out of her clothes and into the fine silk robe she favoured when entertaining. She found a fresh thong still in its wrapper and quickly changed into it, enjoying the slightly stiff feel of the new cotton against her.
He came back into the main room wearing a pair of trunk style boxers he'd found in the laundry cupboard and proceeded to show her every scar he had. It was an impressive collection. From head to foot he was a light patchwork of new and fading scar tissue.
Only after she had expressed what he must have considered an appropriate level of interest in his gruesome gallery, did Al consent to drop his shorts. As Kate had suspected he wasn't long, but his filling cock had the look of being good and thick. What surprised her was what he called his "prime cock jewel". Just behind the head of his prick a bar, finished in two heavy silver globes, was becoming apparent as his foreskin began to slip back.
"Chicks dig it." Al had announced. He had also trimmed his pubic hair, the better to display the work, she assumed.
That is never going in my mouth - Kate had thought. Her orthodontic work had cost her parents a couple of thousand dollars and she wasn't going to risk it.
"Bet you've never had one like that." Al had been watching her face and had a smirk in place.
"Not quite. Didn't it hurt?" She asked looking up from the piercing to his cheerful face.
"Like a mother, wouldn't lose it now though. Wouldn't be the same, looking down and not seeing it there."
Kate was fascinated, appalled and fascinated and had drawn a little closer to get a better look. The heavy bar ran right through his shaft. She could see the way the skin had re-grown around the length of surgical steel and reached out to touch it.
"I thought it would be cold." Kate suddenly felt foolish, standing there with a scarred up skater's ornamented dick in her hand.
"Nah, too close to the body to be cold. Feels different to the rest though, doesn't it?"
Kate had to agree that it did, the hard steel of the bar was counterpoint to the warm flesh that surrounded it. Kate's mouth began, involuntarily, to water and she ran her tongue tip over her lips. She looked up into Al's smiling face.
"I guarantee that I won't chip your teeth. Hasn't happened yet." His eyes crinkled with mirth.
How Al had known? Kate wasn't sure. She guessed that other women had expressed the same fear to him and Al had quickly learnt to reassure them and go easy.
"Want me to sit on the bed?"
Again he had beaten her to it. He's done this before she concluded. Al had been the only one to talk to her like a normal human being; the other guys at his particular park seemed to think non-skaters weren't really regular people. They'd taken the offered money and done as the photographer had asked, but that was it. There had been no further connection. Al had been upbeat and had joked with the photographer's assistant and Kate. She was at a loose end and had decided to take him home. Al had been quite willing to be fed by the magazine lady, and was quite unconcerned when she had suggested they go back to her apartment after the food.
