"OK, that enough for me for now," Gabe called out, tossing the frisbee one last time to the other Tulane student. Once free of the disk he loped over to the walkway in New Orleans' Audubon Park to the park bench, where he'd left his backpack, running shoes, and T-shirt. He'd been out on the park green in just shorts for the past half hour, tossing the plastic disk around. He'd probably have been burned to a crisp if his muscular torso and legs weren't already tanned to a golden bronze.
As the nineteen-year-old blond and hunky Tulane sophomore sat on the bench to pull his shoes on, a dark-haired man in tailored white shirt and slacks came over to the bench. He'd been in the area for some time, looking at the activity out on the green from several angles, where Gabe had been tossing the frisbee with another older, but well-built man. The newly appearing dark-haired man stood out because he was dressed more for the club or the office than for a stroll in the New Orleans East Carrollton district park. He was probably in his early forties, slim, dark-haired, and well cared for. He also noticeably had made a beeline for the same bench Gabe went to when he saw the young man leave off the frisbee play and head for the sidelines. As he approached the bench, his eyes followed Gabe's tossing partner over a hill and out of sight.
"Gabe?" he said as he approached.
"Yes? You are Craig?" the young man said.
"Yes. Was that your father or someone special you were throwing the frisbee with?"
"No, just a guy who I ran into out here in the park who had a frisbee and no one to throw it to."
"So, not your boyfriend."
"No, I don't have anyone. Certainly not that way, if that's what you want to know."
"You are comfortable being with older men, though?"
"Yes, no problem. So, my not having been with anyone yet is important to you?"
"Yes, it's crucially important. You need to understand that. You wish to continue the conversation?" Craig Singleton, a downtown New Orleans lawyer asked.
"Yes, if you do," Gabe answered.
"May I sit?" Craig asked.
"Yes, please do."
Craig did—not too near where Gabe was sitting. Gabe reached down to his backpack and pulled his T-shirt up, preparing to put it on.
"No, please don't," Craig said. "I like you that way. That's a deep tan, though, isn't it? You aren't that tan where you haven't been exposed to the sun, are you?"
"Yes, it's tan. I swim, though, so all is tanned except where a Speedo covers." Gabe was amused Craig was asking about the tan, and he could see the man tremble a bit. A fetish of his, perhaps? Gabe needed to remember that.
"You moved beautifully out on the green as you were playing catch with that frisbee," Craig said. "Please, leave the T-shirt off."
"OK, if you like. But you have your shirt on. It's only fair if—"
"You're right. It's hot out here. And if it will help you decide. I don't think I have anything to hide." Craig slowly unbuttoned his shirt, pulled the tail out of his trousers, shrugged out of the shirt, and draped it over the back of the bench between them. "Is this OK? Does this keep your interest? I don't look too much the older man?"
"That's fine, thanks. Very nice. You must work out."
"I do." He flexed his muscles—his chest was filled out, tapering down to a thin waist, the abs sculpted. Swirls of curly black hair encircled his nipples, and a line of hair ran down into the waistband of his trousers. "You OK with a hirsute man?"
"On you, it's great," Gabe answered. "You're a sexy man."
"As are you. All of you. The tape was quite impressive. So, the contrast between the tan and the lightness where the Speedo doesn't cover wasn't some sort of optical illusion?"
"No, I'm quite pale across the hips," Gabe said, smiling at Craig. He didn't have to say that that meant his crotch, genitals and all, were highlighted by the contrast with the tan.
Craig smiled back. They paused, looking out at a volleyball game forming not far from them. At length Craig spoke again. "Gabriel." He pronounced the name slowly, lovingly.
"Yes, that's what Gabe is short for," the young man answered. "My parents are devout Catholics. The family's been from New Orleans for generations."
"It's a lovely name for a lovely young man. Angelic was the term I was thinking of when I first saw you on the tape—before you . . . did what you did and went down on your knees to whoever was holding the camera. He looked like he was a lot older than you are."
"He is. He's in his forties."
"And you and he haven't—?"
"We covered that. He got a blow job that day. Nothing more. And he wasn't supposed to share the tape."
"But he was in his forties, and you were good with that?"
"Yes."
"I'm in my forties. Just. Very early forties."
"That's fine. It's more a question of being in shape. And you're in great shape."
"Good to hear," Craig said. "I do try to keep up." He let his breath out. He knew he was in great shape, but what was important was that this luscious piece he was working on making knew it. He paused and they did a little dance of looking out onto the park briefly at the volleyball game forming up and then at each other before gazing out onto the green again. "You are of age, are you not?" Craig finally asked.
"I'm nineteen. I'm a college student."
"So you said on the tape. Just being super cautious. I'm forty-one, but I do stay in shape."
"I can see that," Gabe responded. The man was being nervous about his body, but Gabe could see no reason so far why he should be. Was he signaling that his equipment was small? That didn't matter that much either—it probably would be good, what was important was this being Gabe's first time.
There was another pause. They watched the volleyball game for several moments, both working at giving the impression they were interested in the game, while both were really interested in this encounter. Craig moved a little closer to Gabe on the bench, to where, laying his arm across the back of the bench, he was able to touch the tip of Gabe's shoulder with the fingers of a hand. He stroked Gabe's bicep with his fingers and Gabe didn't pull away.
"Over seven inches. And thick."
"Excuse me?" Gabe said, looking startled.
"I'm seven and a half inches—and thick. I thought you should know that right off the top, so it doesn't shock you later."
Gabe almost laughed. It indeed was what he'd been thinking about. But, in response, he kept with the program. "I'm afraid I don't know much about the sizes."
"That's above average, I think," Craig continued, "and if it's your first time . . . you are a virgin to anal penetration, you have posted . . . that's a factor to be careful of. You stressed that on the tape you put on the Internet—that you'd never had it in the ass before. I will . . . I would be very careful, though, for the first time. I want you to know that up front. Later, if we continued, you'd adjust to me. I do normally like to be a little forceful. But at first . . . and what you did on film, with whoever was holding the camera . . . I wondered."
"I've given and taken blow jobs, but no, I've never taken it up the ass before," Gabe said. "And I didn't know until you called that Sam had put the tape on the Internet and on that local site with a hookup offer. He was right. I haven't done anal before. After I told him I'd never done it before, it was his idea to sell my first time, but I didn't even know the tape was on the Internet before we discussed that."
"On the tape. You said you were a virgin because he wanted to fuck you then?"
"That's right. But he didn't. Just the blow job. He did me too. He didn't put that part of the tape up on the Net."
"You didn't want to give it up to him—your ass?"
"No. I didn't even think about giving it up to anyone until he'd told me I could sell it."
"But you're here. You answered the call and agreed to meet me."
"Yes, I did."
"And I mentioned that my interest was in being first—to pop your cherry. That's what it would be called with a woman. I don't know what it's called with a young man."
"I don't know what it would be called, either, but I get the idea. And, yes, you did mention you were interested in doing a first time."
"And I said I wanted it bareback."
"Yes, you did."
"And we're still sitting here, talking."
"Yes, we are."
Craig moved closer along the bench. His hand went to the back of Gabe's neck, under the young man's gathered pony tail. He lightly massaged Gabe's neck, and Gabe let him. There was a long pause again, as they both were suddenly interested in the volleyball game. The players were young men, most of them handsome and cut and most of them just in shorts.
"So, there's no question that I could get a BJ from you? It's just the rest of the way that we have to discuss?"
"Sure, I'll suck you off for fifty. That's no problem."
"But we can discuss more . . . all the way?"
"Sure."
"We didn't settle on a price in the e-mail exchanges. You said that, since you'd never done it before . . ."
"That I had to check out the rate," Gabe finished the sentence for him.
