Summer was slow to arrive in New York. It had been a long, wet spring. New Yorkers complained about the gloom but it was more suited to his mood following the loss of his only real friend. New York became a lonely place to him.
Dave continued dancing at the Wonder Bar and occasionally supplemented his income by accepting an invitation from one of the bar clients. The men were always polite and respectful, but the sex lacked passion on his part. He learned to gently push them away from any talk of permanency. Especially on the subject of his being kept.
However, on most evenings, lying in his bed alone, he would begin stroking his swelling cock and as he jacked it, his mind would go to a pond hidden in dark woods. As his passion rose he could feel the lips of a stranger begin to suck him. The man-god's mouth slid up and down the shaft of his cock until, from deep inside him, there burst a pulsating flow that shot spasms of hot cum from his inflamed prick onto his stomach. He would lay there as his breath subsided before wiping himself clean. Then he could sleep.
One morning after returning from a workout at a local gym a letter from his mother in Atlanta had arrived. Typically, her communication consisted of chiding him for quitting school and pleading that he return from New York, which she considered the world's most dangerous place. Dave did his best to avoid telephone contact as she could become quite strident on the subjects of terrorism, crime, and violence, all of which placed him in immediate peril, she was convinced.
He had to lie about his income source and she thought he had found a career in marketing. Dave chuckled realizing that what he was telling her wasn't that far from the truth.
Aside from her usual nags and gripes, this letter contained an interesting bit of information. His father and Marilyn had separated and filed for divorce. Typical of his mother, this information was accompanied by no dates or other information; only the rejoinder that she had known it wouldn't work all along. The divorce could have been six months ago or last week for all she told. The young man's stomach still jumped with the news.
The young man tried to remain in touch with his dad, but the process was too painful, so he disengaged from communicating. His father was never good at staying in touch. And now that he was married again, Dave felt like an intruder if he thought of calling or writing him.
Hearing of his father's divorce left him hoping that he might hear from him. That evening at work he felt happier strutting around the stage than he had felt in months. He had winked invitingly at several men in the audience, inciting two invitations to go out afterward. One was from an older man he had seen before. He went.
"So you're originally from Atlanta," George commented over drinks in the man's apartment.
"Yeah," I replied, "and Texas" pausing, "sort of."
He generally didn't enjoy conversation with tricks and usually tried to keep it to a minimal. However George was a repeat client whose company he did enjoy, plus the man was always flush with cash.
Distinguished by grey in his temples, the man had remained in reasonably good physical condition for his age. Dave had no idea what George did, but there was an air of intrigue about him. "Maybe he's a mobster," he had thought when they first met. That would be an adventure.
Setting down his drink, George looked at Dave and said, "Why don't you slip out of that shirt you're wearing. I enjoy looking at your chest".
Removing his shirt he watched as George began rubbing his crotch. What he really enjoyed about George was the air of kinky sensuality the man had. He enjoyed playing games with Dave, and it always livened up the evening.
