"My, don't you look spiffy this evening? Going to the theater?"
"Excuse me? Oh, I don't know exactly where we're going. Just wearing what I was told to wear. This is on someone else's nickel."
Nineteen-year-old American Jordie Nelson, dressed in a tux, was sitting alone at a table on the rooftop bar of the Rendezvous Hotel Sidney the Rocks, overlooking the Circular Quay and Opera House on the Sydney, Australia, waterfront. He had been approached for a drink order by a waiter. The two didn't know each other but they were of nearly the same age, the waiter a couple of years older, and Jordie had been here before. They both were gorgeous young men and recognized each other from what their preferences were. They clicked with each other on all cylinders. Jordie, a bit nervous in coming here felt he had an ally.
"Do you wish to order a drink, or are you waiting for someone? I'm Sam, by the way," said the hotel waiter.
"Yes, I remember you. I'm waiting for someone."
Sam, the waiter, had seen this unfold before, so he did know the other young man would be waiting for someone. He thought he could guess why too. That thought excited him, though. The young American was a gorgeous blond, with a face that was more pretty than handsome, a winsome smile illuminated by pale blue eyes, and a slim, fit body to die for. That he seemed to be a bit nervous and on edge hinted at an adventure to come, which, in turn, aroused Sam. Jordie had met older men here before, and Sam was sure he knew why. That excited him a bit and he got a vicarious vibe off the transaction.
Sam backed off and worshipped the young man from the drinks bar. The young man, Jordie, didn't have to wait for too long, though, before two older men approached his table. One looked to be in his late thirties, an Australian who was somewhat flamboyantly dressed and exhibited a big thuggish look, and the other one was an Arab, clearly identified by the pristine-white thawb, an Arab robe, and head scarf he wore, and somewhere in his forties. Jordie stood to be introduced to and inspected by the Arab. When they settled, Sam arrived to take their drinks orders.
When he returned with the drinks, Sam nearly blushed at the questions he heard the Arab asking, with the Australian supplying most of the answers in somewhat bald terms. Jordie was sitting there, looking demure. The Arab was stroking the young man's forearm with his fingers, and Jordie wasn't shying away. Sam was there long enough to determine that the Arab was somehow connected with a reception and concert going on across the Port Jackson middle harbor at the distinctive, iconic Sydney Opera House.
The Arab was a sheik, named Samir al-Garfeh, and Jordie was to be his escort at the opera house event. The sheik was staying here at the Rendezvous Hotel. Neither Jordie nor his Australian pimp, Alex White, were staying here, but Jordie was sometimes brought here to meet and service hotel guests. Sam already knew Alex White by name. This was a regular place he used to hook up escorts with clients.
They stayed for only one drink. Alex White didn't stay that long. After he left, the sheik leaned into Jordie and was obviously having a more explicit discussion with him.
Sam stood off to the side, thinking once again how spiffy Jordie looked in his tux and wondering how good he'd look out of the tux. He was still on duty three hours later, near midnight, when Sheik Samir and Jordie returned to the bar for a nightcap before calling it a night. He followed them at a distance when they left. He'd already checked out what floor the sheik's room was on, just two floors down from the rooftop bar, and managed to make it down the stairs and conceal himself behind a corner before the elevator opened and the two men exited. The sheik already was holding Jordie close beside him, palming one of the young man's buttocks cheeks, as they walked to the room, entered, and the door shut behind them.
Seeing a man palm another man's buttocks as they walked in public always gave Sam a jolt of sexual arousal and pleasure. He knew the possessiveness and the permissibility that reflected. He had visions of palming Jordie's buttocks himself.
Sam couldn't resist. After a few minutes he stole down the corridor and put his ear to the hotel room door. He already could hear moaning and what sounded like a snapping sound. And then the cry of "Mercy! Oh, shit. Oh, fuck!" Again, the snap of leather on flesh. He reached for the door handle, but then pulled back. This was a professional situation. No telling what the young man had agreed to or take--or how much of his cry was for effect, what a male whore would do to inflame a john.
Inside the room, Jordie lay on his belly, naked, on the bed. His wrists were restrained to the headboard, his arms raised over his head. The Rendezvous was a gay-friendly hotel and had special rooms for special clients. Sheik Garfeh, his thawb unbuttoned and flared, his well-muscled body dark skinned and hirsute naked underneath that and in full erection, was holding a bent over leather belt, and was reddening up Jordie's bare buttocks with it, as the fingers of a greased hand worked at opening the young man's anal canal.
"Oh, fuck. The fist... not the whole... SHIT!"
Once more Sam reached for the door handle, but pulled back.
Jordie was writhing under the attention. He was moaning and panting, but he was doing what he was paid for--giving the sheik his money's worth.
Sam could tell the moment when the sheik dropped the belt, climbed up onto the bed, saddled on the young man's hips, mounted him, penetrated, and began to pump. Jordie had cried out at the moment of penetration.
"Yes, Fuckin' YES. Put it in. Screw me! YES!"
Sam discerned the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping on flesh. In addition, the bed had taken this use before. It creaked, the springs singing a rhythm song of their own. The sheik settled down to a rhythmic motion. Jordie was contributing moans and periodic whispers of, "Yes, yes. There, like that. Oh, fuck yes. You're so fuckin' big."
Unhappy and frustrated that he was getting no piece of the action, Sam moved away from the door and back to the rooftop bar two stories above.
What a waste of a beautiful young man, he was thinking. He knew, though, that Jordie would be back and that there would be other opportunities for them to converse--and, he hoped, someday, to hook up.
* * * *
Sam had another opportunity to connect with Jordie a couple of days later when he pulled a dayshift at the Rendezvous Hotel's rooftop bar. Jordie was there, at the same table, again initially alone, and looking oh so sexy in white gauzy harem pants showing that he was wearing a red pouch jockstrap underneath, and a sexy red mesh crop-top athletic T-shirt, showing off how cut his torso was. His feet were covered with open-toed sandals, and there was a beach bag in the chair next to him with a beach towel peeking out of.
"Waiting for someone again?" Sam asked, knowing full well the young man wouldn't be here if he wasn't hooking up with another man.
"Yes, again."
"My name is Sam."
"Yes, I remember." Jordie was wearing dark sunglasses, he turned and pushed them down on his nose, taking a good look at the waiter, showing that he wasn't ignoring him. "I don't think I'd forget you." Was he flirting? Sam's stomach knotted and he took the risk.
"You look like you're off to the beach."
"Yes, I think so. Lady Jane Beach."
The knot in Sam's stomach lurched. Lady Jane Beach was a gay male nudist beach out on the tip of Walton's Bay. "You
think
