Jaysin 18, was a tall lanky kid, standing 6’ 5” and weighing about 170lbs and stronger than he looked. Pale skin, dark hair and dark brown, almost black, eyes gave Mike an exotic look which combined with his tall mohawk and goatee, got him a wide berth when he walked down the street. If you put a soccer jersey on him, he would have passed for a typical English hooligan. While it was the end of summer, Mike was wearing a t-shirt with a flannel shirt over it and worn blue jeans. People gave him a wide berth on the street but for some reason, married women found him irresistible and paid well for his services.
As the summer had passed, business had started to slow down markedly. A big feature story on one of the local TV stations about the traffic on South Pine in Cloverdale had slowed traffic a lot and then the local newspaper started printing the names and pictures of both the hookers and the johns. After that, Jaysin’s income has fallen off dramatically.
Jaysin had been on the streets for a couple of years and had seen too many beautiful people flame out too soon. He was still doing well compared to most of the people he knew on the streets with him. Most of them either snorting or smoking their income. Lives lost to low-quality drugs got from their pimp or robbing from their clients. Many of them had been found in abandoned squats surrounded by drug paraphernalia and a few murdered in deals gone wrong. The rent on his small apartment was paid for the summer but things weren’t looking so good for the fall. He needed to get a lot more business if he was going to pay for his place and the rest of his bills.
Standing in the bathroom looking in the mirror, he finished styling up his mohawk and thought about what the next color should be when he found himself looking at the clock. It was almost 8pm. “I gotta get out there soon if I’m gonna get some prime pie.”
Jaysin put on his tightest fitting pair of jeans and a tight t-shirt with a sleeveless flannel shirt over it. He laced up his knee high leather boots and looked at himself. “You look like a punk ready to stomp in some faggot’s head. Hell yeah!” he thought to himself as he turned off the light.
A lazy ten minute walk and he was turning on to South Pine Avenue. Traffic looked a bit busier than it had for a few weeks which gave him hope. He took up one of his usual spots. There was retaining wall on that corner that he’d sit on hanging his legs off. It was a busy intersection and he had plenty of visibility down both streets. There was plenty of traffic but no one was shopping it seemed. He jumped down off the wall and started heading farther north on Pine, into the heart of the city and deeper into one of the seedier parts of town.
Bartonville had been named after Jefferson W Barton at the turn of the 19th Century. Recently, it was more commonly known as Barterville as you could get almost anything on trade. Poverty was endemic along with drugs and crime. City and metro leaders had tried many times to break the cycle of poverty in Bartonville to no avail.
Jaysin was an imposing figure and didn’t draw much attention and he headed deep into Barterville. He knew of a couple of bars that were good business. They didn’t pay well but there was always a steady stream of housewives looking for a fuck on the wild side. Thanks to medical science and unscrupulous doctors, he had a steady stream of pills that could keep him going all night and enough condoms to fill a filing cabinet.
He looked over at the Drunken Wench and could hear the noise out on the street. Even though it was a weeknight, there would be a fight pouring out into the street soon. He looked over at the Black Dragon. He smiled as he thought of the MILFs that populated the place. He kept walking but noticed a new place one on of the side streets.
“The Painted Gnome” said the sign. He’d never heard of it but how bad could it be. He paused for a moment taking in the neighborhood and rethinking just how bad it could be.
He grumbled as he paid the cover and strode into the bar. He made his way over to the bar and ordered a shot of Loomin Whisky. It took a bit for his eyes to adjust and take it all in and it seemed like a decent place in a bad part of town.
He found a high top table in the corner and slouched back to show off his cock and balls, making it obvious that he was available. After a half hour or so, he realized that something wasn’t right about this place but hadn’t quite put a finger on it.
He got another shot of Loomin and walked over by the pool tables. As he did, it struck him like a thunderclap.
“I’m in a gay bar!” he thought just as a large rough hand reached out and grabbed his crotch. He pulled back and looked over at the guy who had just groped him.
“The Dude” as Jaysin had already branded him looked to be in his early 40s, well built, and clean cut. “Likely married to one of the bitches who pay me for a real man’s cock in ‘em” Jaysin thought and he sneered at The Dude.
Dude pulled out a wad of cash, “I’ve got $300 that says I can suck you off then you’ll fuck me senseless.”
Jaysin paused for a moment thinking about the implications of it all. I’m not into dudes but $300 is a lot of money for a trick.
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