DANCING ON THE TUNDRA by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER XVI
"I really can't stay too long," Terry said as the two of them sat in a booth in a little corner tavern. The establishment seemed to reek of old world charm and provided the perfect setting for an intimate rendezvous.
"But you must be free till five," Collin objected. "You were scheduled in for photos till then." The waitress came by for their orders and the man in black requested a couple of imported beers.
"Well, yes, but I've got a lot of things to do," Terry improvised. The truth was, he found the photographer incredibly attractive and was trying to find an excuse to get away. The last thing he needed was to fall for a married straight man.
"I won't hear of it," Collin said quickly. "I've already seen about as much as I can of you. Now I want to get to know the man behind the body." He smiled disarmingly.
His charm took Terry completely off guard, and before he realized it he had spent an hour telling Collin his life's story. He glossed over certain facts and totally avoided others. His own insecurities made him steer clear of his sexual orientation. Finally he came to a halt, then realized he had been monopolizing the conversation. "I'm sorry," he apologized.
"Don't be," the photographer replied. "I love hearing your voice."
Terry blushed and stared down into his glass, watching the tiny bubbles cascading to the slightly foamy surface. "So tell me about you," he finally responded, looking up at the intense blue eyes focused on him from across the table.
"There really isn't much to tell," Collin answered. "I went to CCNY and majored in business. Now I run a photography studio."
"What about your wife," Terry asked, then felt guilty, like he was prying into the man's personal life.
Collin shrugged. "She's an actress. But let's not talk about her. I'd rather talk about you."
Terry blushed again. "We've already talked about me."
"On the surface, yes, but I want to know so much more. What made you want to be a dancer? Why did you come to New York? What's your favorite color? Do you sleep in pajamas or underwear? Are you gay? What kind of wine do you like? Would you have dinner with me this evening?" Terry's mouth dropped open as he was hit with the barrage of questions. He was completely taken off guard. "Well, I'm waiting for answers," Collin prompted.
"Okay, here goes," Terry replied. "I don't really know; I had a friend here; green; the raw; yes; anything red and sweet; and I don't think so."
Collin laughed at the replies. "How did you remember all that I asked and in the correct order?"
"I have an exceptionally strong and photographic memory. That's why I've always been a quick study on stage, learning the whole script of a play in just a couple of days."
Collin shook his head in amazement. "Okay, my turn to respond. Let's see if I can do it the same way as you. Oh; how close of a friend; I would have guessed a red tone; how exciting; I'm very glad; now I'll know what to order; and why not?"
"Because I hardly know you . . . and what do you mean your very glad?"
"I find you incredibly attractive. I've been wanting to jump your bones since early this afternoon when I first saw that hot body of yours in my studio."
"But you're married," Terry blurted out. The way Collin drew back made Terry instantly regret he had said it.
"Well, that's a long story, and one I'd just as soon not go into. Now, about dinner . . ."
Terry finally allowed himself to be talked into going to dinner with the charismatic man in black. They found a small Italian cafe and dined on ravioli and Chianti, then went for a walk through Central Park. Terry found himself liking the photographer more and more. As the evening wore on, Collin finally hailed a cab and the two climbed in. Terry directed the driver to his building and they ended up in Terry's bed.
The love making was sheer physical delight. Collin was obviously experienced and knew how to elicit pleasures from Terry that the young man had never experienced before. He relaxed and gave himself over to the pure, hedonistic thrills. Once he had experienced an orgasm, Terry then concentrated on providing just as much excitement for his new sex partner. He used muscles he didn't know he had and worked up quite a sweat as he performed over his new friend. Soon Collin was groaning with pleasure, and then, after an explosive climax, the two men relaxed in each other's arms.
"That was absolutely fucking fantastic!" Collin said as he nuzzled Terry's neck, kissing him gently. "Or maybe I should say fantastic fucking. Can I come back and do this again? I mean, I don't want this to be a one night stand."
"Would you like to spend the night?" Terry asked hesitantly.
"Can't," the man said bruskly, then rolled off the bed and grabbed for his black, bikini briefs. "The little woman will be expecting me."
"Oh," was all Terry could say as he watched his new love quickly dress. In a couple of minutes the man was ready to leave. He leaned down and kissed Terry passionately on the mouth, then abruptly stood and walked out. Terry wandered to the front door to throw the dead bolt, then went to the living room window and looked down at the street below, seeing Collin climb into the back of a taxi.
"So you want to tell me all about him?" Terry turned to see Wayne dressed in a white, terry cloth bathrobe, leaning against the archway into the kitchen.
"I'm so confused," Terry said as he dropped down onto the sofa. "Wayne, he was wonderful. I haven't met anyone that good since . . . well since a long time ago."
"Since when you were a freshman in college and had that short lived fling with that jock. What was his name?"
"Dan," Terry responded. "Yeah, I guess maybe it's been that long since I fell for someone. I've had sex, but I've never really connected. Not like this."
"Well, honey, that's great," Wayne said enthusiastically. "There's nothing that warms my innards more than the thought of a faggot in love."
"But he's married," Terry whined.
Wayne dropped down onto the couch beside him. "Then you have got a problem. Does his wife know?"
"Know what?"
"That he likes little boys? About you? Does she know anything?"
Terry shook his head. "I don't think so. We only met today."
"You are a fast worker, you little home wrecker," Wayne said as he jabbed his roommate in the ribs.
"That's it," Terry said as he stood up. "It was just a one- time fuck. I'm not going to be responsible for destroying a marriage." He slowly walked back through the bathroom and into his bedroom, filled with resolve. But once he climbed back into bed and could smell the scent of his lover still on the sheets and pillow case, his resolve began to crumble.
Terry was looking through the want ads two days later when he got a phone call. It was Marvin. The man had received the photos from the session with Collin and had already circulated them. He had two offers for Terry right away. Rand Studios wanted him to do some modeling and Marvin had also arranged for him to meet with a casting director that evening. Terry was so excited, he didn't even think to ask about the jobs but accepted immediately. Marvin gave him the address of the modeling firm and told him to be there at 1:00. Then he was to meet with Mr. Caselli at 7:30. He was to dress sharp and report to room 714 at the Hotel Edison in downtown Manhattan. Marvin said that Mr. Caselli would also be paying Terry an audition fee which he was to give to Marvin. It was sort of a kickback to the agency and would cover his 15% if he were to get a job out of this audition.
Terry quickly went to his room to pick out clothes to wear for his appointments. He assumed that the modeling agency would probably provide the clothing for him to wear. He had never really thought of modeling as being related to a theatrical career, but he could now easily see the tie in. As he fussed through his closet there was a knock at the front door. Terry threw a suit on the bed, then headed for the living room.
"Yes?" he called as he looked out the peep hole in the door. All he could see were roses obscuring the person holding them.
"Flowers for Rock Michaels," a voice called out.
Terry quickly slipped the chain and opened the door. "I'm Rock Michaels," he said as he reached out for the vase with the beautiful arrangement. "I wonder who they could be from?" he mused.
"Me," the delivery man said and parted the flowers that Terry now held. It was Collin on the other side of the floral arrangement. Terry was shocked into silence. "Well, aren't you going to thank me?"
"Thank you," he replied automatically.
"Aren't you going to ask me in?" the photographer persisted.
Terry wanted to be firm and tell him to be on his way, but Collin's expression looked so cute, a combination of hopeful anticipation mixed with a tinge of fear of rejection. "Come in," Terry said and stepped away from the door, putting the flowers on a small table beside the beat up couch.
Collin shut the door and stepped forward, reaching out to embrace Terry in his arms, but he was rebuffed. Terry stepped back and turned away. "What's the matter?" Collin asked as his smile faded away.
"I'm not so sure about this," Terry replied. "Look, I really like you a lot. But I don't want to be a home-wrecker."
"Then maybe we need to talk," the photographer said as he unzipped his black leather jacket, revealing a black sport shirt beneath. He sat on the couch and Terry perched on the arm of the sofa, not far from him. "In the first place you aren't a home- wrecker. I'm the one who did the pursuing. In the second place, there isn't really much of a home to wreck. My wife and I have a marriage more of convenience than anything else. We don't love each other. She goes her way and has her lovers, as do I."
"Then why do you stay together?" Terry suddenly felt uncomfortable the moment he said it. This man's personal life was really none of his business.
"I don't know really. Partly money, partly laziness. Neither one of us wants to take the effort required to untangle things and get a divorce."
Terry and Collin sat and stared at each other for a minute. "Well," Terry finally said as he stood up and went to the door, "thanks for the flowers. But I really have got a lot of things to do and . . ."
"Rock, is this a problem for you?"
"I hate that name. Call me Terry. And no, I don't think so. I think this is a problem for you."
"But can't you see I'm falling in love with you," Collin said.
He stood up and in a moment the two men were in each other's arms. Their passionate kiss seemed to last an eternity and Terry could feel his body beginning to respond sexually to the intensity of their embrace. He finally broke the kiss and pushed the photographer back. "Look, I don't want to be the other woman, okay?"
Collin laughed and pulled him close. "You aren't. You're the other man, and all man." He slowly slid his hands down, cupping Terry's ass and pushing their pelvises together.
Terry again pushed him back. "Collin, I really can't do this now. I have a job this afternoon and I need to get ready."
"What kind of a job?"
"Marvin got me a modeling job with some company called the Rand Studios. I'm supposed to meet with them this afternoon at 1:00."
"Rand?!" Collin asked in surprise. "Terry, we need to talk about your agent. Rand Studios is a producer of porno pictures. If that's what you want to do, that's fine, but if you're planning on having hot, erotic photos taken, why don't you let me do that."
Terry sat heavily on the couch. He felt devastated. He came to New York to be a serious actor and now he was being told that his agent was arranging to get him involved in pornography. "Are you sure?" he asked, hoping that Collin might be mistaken.
"Well of course I'm sure. Don't you even pay attention to your own books." The photographer bent down and retrieved a nicely bound "art" book that was supporting the short leg of the table holding his roses. He handed it to Terry as he moved the vase to the floor. The volume was one that Wayne had purchased and brought home. He liked to look at the photos while masturbating. Terry had glanced at the book before, but never really paid it much attention. He now examined it closely. The cover had a two toned photo of an attractive naked man posing so that his outspread hand just barely covered his genitals. The title, in gold ink, was "Hot Summer Men of Rand." There was no doubt about the studio, and there was not doubt about their intent as Terry quickly flipped through the volume. The publishers might claim it was art, but the carefully posed men in the book, most of whom showed huge erections, were very obviously photographed to excite and arouse.
"This is not what I wanted for a professional job," Terry said angrily, putting the book down. "I'm going to give that creep a piece of my mind," he continued as he grabbed for the phone.
"Better not," Collin advised as he stopped his friend. He convinced Terry that refusing a job might open him up to possible litigation for breach of contract. It all depended on what his agreement with the agency said.
Terry had a sinking feeling that he had definitely been had by the sleazy agent. "What can I do?" he asked.
"Miss the appointment. You're new to New York. You can't help it if you got lost in the city. Meanwhile, you need to relax. Don't get so uptight. Here, I'll help you." Collin reached over and began to massage Terry's tense shoulders. It felt so good, that Terry closed his eyes and leaned back against his friend's ministrations. Collin came close and began to nuzzle his ear. The photographer stuck out his tongue and gently and sensuously ran it down Terry's neck to the base where his shoulders flared out. All the time Collin kept his hands moving, his fingers kneading the firm muscles. He carefully slid his hands up under Terry's shirt and reached around to tweak the nipples on his chest. Terry emitted a groan of animal pleasure as the two men slowly sank down onto the couch.
Late in the afternoon Terry received a terse phone call from Marvin Williams asking why he missed his appointment with Rand Studios. He used Collin's excuse that he got lost while trying to find the address. Marvin strongly suggested that he not get lost that evening on his way to meet with Mr. Caselli, the casting director. He also again stressed the importance of collecting the audition fee that the man would give him. Terry hung up and immediately began to prepare for the meeting. He found a suit that flattered his thin physique, then gathered his portfolio of photos, notices and credits. At precisely 7:30 he was knocking on the door of the hotel room.
A tall, thin man of about fifty with slate grey hair opened the door. He was wearing a satin bathrobe. "Yes?" he asked in an imperious tone.
"I'm Terry Michaelson . . . I mean Rock Michaels. I have an appointment to see Mr. Caselli."
"That's me," the man said as he beamed a wide smile. "Do come in, dear boy." He stepped back to allow Terry access to the room. "Forgive me. I was just relaxing in bed. Perhaps you'd care to join me?"
The question took Terry by surprise. For a moment he was speechless. The man seized the opportunity to put a glass of champagne in Terry's hand, then proceeded to stretch out again on the double bed. As he did so, the satin robe gaped open exposing him. "Come join me," he said and patted the mattress beside him.
Terry stepped to the side of the bed and sat gingerly on the very edge. The man reached out, as if to embrace him, and Terry quickly stuffed his photos and resume in the outstretched hands. "As you can see, I've had quite a bit of dance experience. My most recent job was dancing in an off-Broadway . . ."
"I've seen the photos, dear boy," the man said with a sardonic grin. "You are here so I can sample your wares in the flesh, so to speak." Terry dropped to mute silence as Mr. Caselli tossed his photos aside. The man stared at him for a minute, then finally sighed. "Alright, I can tell I'm not going to get any enjoyment unless I do it your way. So you want to dance, then by all means. Go ahead."
Terry stood up and took a step back. "I . . . I guess I don't understand. I thought . . ."
"You're a dancer. You want to dance. Let's see your routine."
Terry was still a little confused. "But there's no music," he said.
"You want music? You got it." The man reached over and snapped on a radio that was sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. He fiddled with the dial until he found a station that was playing a heavy disco beat. "Now let's see what you've got."
"You want me to audition for you? Dance to that?"
"Yeah," the grey haired man said with a lecherous smile. "Strut your stuff. Make me hot." Terry put down his portfolio and began to move rhythmically to the solid beat. He felt awkward and uncomfortable trying to dance in the tiny space of the hotel room. He had no routine or number prepared and he wasn't dressed for performing in his suit and tie. But none of this seemed to bother his one person audience. "That's good. Yes, that's nice," Caselli shouted out encouragements over the music. "Great, now take your coat off. Let me see your muscles."
With a shrug, Terry slipped off his coat and dropped it over the back of a nearby desk chair and continued to dance. He executed a couple of jazz steps and then attempted a double pirouette, no small feet on the carpeted floor. "Hey, you really are good," the man said admiringly. "Give me some more. Take off the shirt and tie. I want to see your chest." Terry stopped his dancing and began to remove his tie. He should have been prepared he thought. He should have worn a leotard. If the man was hiring a dancer he of course would want to see Terry in dance togs.
"What are you doing?" Caselli asked as Terry pulled off his tie.
"You said you wanted me to take off my shirt and tie," Terry replied, suddenly feeling uncomfortably foolish. Maybe he had misunderstood.
"But you stopped dancing. You can't dance and undress at the same time?"
"Well, yeah, but . . ."
"Then do it! I'm paying you a nice fat sum for tonight and I expect a little more for my money than just sex. Williams said you could entertain me. Well, let's see some entertainment."
Terry stood perfectly still for a moment trying to digest what he had just heard. Apparently this had all been an elaborate set up. He was no more than a two bit hustler with Marvin Williams acting as his pimp. Suddenly, when this incident was coupled with the appointment at Rand Studios it all made sense. He was being pimped as a sex object. Terry began to rebutton his shirt and tie his tie.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" the grey haired man protested as he sat up on the bed.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Caselli. I'm afraid there has been a mistake. I was told you were a casting director and that I was interviewing for a part in a play." Terry continued to dress, picking up his jacket.
"A casting director?" Caselli mused as he leaned forward. "Well that's a new one. Actually I'm in the retail jewelry business. But for tonight I can be a casting director. Now, please, come audition for me."
"I'm an actor, not a hustler," Terry said as he gathered up his photos.
"And I'm a salesman. That doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other's company. I'll pay you well for your performance. I promised to make out the check directly to Williams, but if you want, I'll give it to you in cash instead."
Terry shook his head and stepped toward the door. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Wait a minute. I already paid a $50 deposit to your agency for tonight."
"Then maybe you ought to give Mr. Williams a call. Perhaps he'd be willing to come over and perform for you."
"Mr. Williams?!" The man cried out as Terry opened the door. "Are you kidding? Have you seen . . . Hey, come back here. We can work something . . ."
Terry closed the door firmly behind him and bolted for the elevators. He wasn't sure what he was going to do now. He had a contract with Bremen and Williams, but he knew being a call boy was not part of the deal. If his agency wasn't on the level, then he would have to break his contract and find someone else. As his elevator car sank rapidly to the lobby, Terry tried to figure out what to do next. He didn't want to go home and face Wayne. He couldn't bear the humiliation just yet, not while it was still so fresh from his encounter with Mr. Caselli. But where else could he go. He walked for what seemed like hours.
Eventually Terry found himself on the street in front of Collin's photography studio. The front was dark, but he could see lights on in the back. He tried the door but it was locked, so he rapped on the glass window. In a few minutes he saw a figure moving in the dark, then the door opened. "Terry, what the hell are you doing here?" Collin had answered the door. He was dressed all in black as he had been earlier in the day. It must be some sort of fetish or peculiarity Terry thought.
"I finished my interview with the casting director," Terry said by way of explanation. "I just needed to walk and get some air, and then I found myself here."
"How did it go?"
"Can I come in and tell you?" Terry asked. He was beginning to feel awkward standing on the sidewalk talking to Collin who was holding the door open just wide enough for him and standing in the way.
"Well, I'm kind of busy," Collin said and fidgeted uncomfortably.
Terry suddenly felt very foolish. He could tell his presence was making Collin squirm and he wasn't welcome at the moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I just thought . . . " Terry's voice choked off and he had to bite his lip to keep from breaking into tears.
"Collin, honey, who is it?" a woman's voice asked and suddenly an attractive girl in her early twenties came up from behind him, pushing the door open wider so she could see Terry.
"Oh, um, this is Rock Michaels. Rock, this is . . ."
"Felicia, darling," the girl provided, giving him an odd look. "Your wife, remember?"
"My wife," Collin added sheepishly. "Rock had me do some photos for his agent."
"How nice," Felicia purred. "Darling, our dinner's getting cold," she then whispered in Collin's ear.
"Well, I better be going," Terry stammered, feeling even worse than he had before.
"Yeah, well I should have those proofs for you tomorrow. I'll give you a call. Thanks for dropping by." The door closed firmly. Terry knew there were no proofs. Collin had been saying this for his wife's benefit. Obviously the marriage of convenience that Collin told him about seemed a lot more convenient than Terry was led to believe. He turned away and headed for a nearby bus stop feeling strangely disoriented and cut off.