Dating Rules and Pretty Fools Chapter 10
Dating Rules And Pretty Fools – Ch. 10
By Laura S. Fox
Copyright © 2023 Laura S. Fox
All Rights Reserved
Gay Erotica
Intended for Mature Audiences Only
This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age.
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Chapter Ten – Until You Become Nothing But A Dot
He liked the smell of sex, but not as much as the man lying in his arms, completely abandoned and gone to the world. Hudson brushed his hand through the silky strands of Otis's hair over and over, hating the moment when he would have to wake up his precious charge and send him back to his place with a pat on his delicious rump. He would have to do it anyway. How often had he thought with his dick in his life? Not that many times. But now was one of them, and, if he indulged in this kind of satisfaction too much, there was a high chance he'd get burned.
And not only him. He had a responsibility, whether he liked it or not, toward his nosy neighbor. No, it wasn't a matter of like and dislike, because he liked it too much already. Hence the problem. He patted Otis on the shoulder, lightly at first, and then more firmly. Otis grumbled in his sleep, so unlike his usually over-the-top polite self that it made him laugh. The shaking of his body finally convinced the sleeping beauty to wake up.
Otis blinked and stared at him. "Did I fall asleep?"
"Yes." Hudson traced the lean curve of Otis's back, still unwilling to let the beautiful man in his arms get up and leave. Again and again, so unlike him. No matter how attractive the guy he slept with was, he didn't care about waffles in the morning and satiated kisses. Once the deed was done, they both hit the road.
"Did I snore?"
Hudson laughed. "Maybe a little." Otis touched his nose in surprise. He was way too easy, so Hudson laughed more. "Not really. You are a very polite guest, even when you sleep."
"Thank you. That's a relief."
"Why so?" Even making casual conversation of the strangest kind filled the space of the dingy apartment to such a degree that Hudson didn't want to allow his guest to take his leave.
"According to certain commercials, your spouse might file for divorce if you don't solve your snoring problem."
It was so like Otis to pay attention to commercials and take them at face value. So he decided to offer a reply that would be in line with the same reasoning. "Even if you snored, we wouldn't be in any danger. In order to get a divorce, we'd have to be married first." Otis's candid stare was just too much. Hudson pinched his smooth cheek and kissed his nose. "I'm afraid I need to take you back to yours. I assume you need your beauty sleep just as much as I do."
"No amount of sleep will help," Otis delivered in a convinced tone.
"Help what?" Hudson asked.
Otis didn't reply, but the way he pulled his bangs over his left eye left no room for guessing. That wouldn't do. They weren't strangers anymore, were they? He raised his hand and brushed the blond bangs out of the way. "You're beautiful as you are, Otis."
Otis looked to the side. How could a grown man like him still feel embarrassed when given compliments? Well-deserved compliments, on top of it all. "Don't ask me," he murmured.
"I won't," Hudson promised. Was it a burn scar? It pulled at the skin around it and the raised aspect, as well as the coloration, reminded him of what he had seen before in some victims from a case a long time ago. What could have caused it? Otis had no other similar scars on the rest of his body, which made the detective in him imagine horrendous scenarios. That scar could very well be the result of a deliberate wound cause by a hot object held against the skin.
A wedge was splitting the comfortable space they had been sharing up until now, and Hudson regretted it, although he knew that it was for the best. "Come on," he said, "let's get you dressed and back to your place."
Otis didn't protest. He kept his eyes down as he carefully put each article of clothing back on he had removed only earlier with so much shy enthusiasm. Hudson batted his hands away and buttoned him up. When he reached the last, he caressed the heart-shaped buckle.
"Do you want it back?" Otis asked.
"No. Why would I?"
"Because I'm not completely honest with you. I can't--"
"It's all right," Hudson interrupted him. If they got into any competition who was the less honest between them, Otis would lose by a landslide. "And this," he said, caressing the leather strap and only slightly touching the skin above it, "looks way too nice on you to take it back."
"Thank you," Otis said primly. He put his hands by his side, fists closed.
Hudson recognized the signs. So, he took the clenched hands into his and watched as the expression on Otis's face changed as he kissed one and then the other. "I'll take you to your apartment."
"I live only a few doors away," Otis protested, too meekly to mean it.
Hudson knew what was happening with him, too. He was a dog sniffing a scent. He wanted to know more about Otis. He could lie to himself that it was for the sake of his investigation, to get to know his neighbor intimately enough to uncover his secrets, such as what could have caused that scar he tried so hard to hide. What importance could that have for his detective work? None whatsoever, but it didn't stop him from taking Otis's hand in reassurance. "Just let me get some pants on."
***
Hudson wanted to know about the scar. Of course, anyone who got close, mostly by accident, was dying to know how he got it. `Dying to know' was a very strange expression; nobody really died while trying to gain knowledge of various things, unless it was to identify what mushrooms were poisonous and which weren't by means of ingesting them or something similar.
He wanted to be alone and touch the old scar again. He hated it but knew that he wouldn't ever get rid of it. Lies, he could tell plenty to himself. But it wasn't fair to get rid of it, even if he had the money to do so, even if he revolted against it and what it stood for.
Hudson was so nice and neighborly, to want to take him back to his apartment, to ensure that he got there safely, the way people did when they cared. He wanted so much to experience that feeling more, to revel in it, to bottle it up if he could and keep it for later. The pressure of the heart-shaped buckle against his throat reminded him of the beautiful gift Hudson had given him tonight.
This was safer than he had felt ever since grandma had passed away. She had been so kind to him, contradicting him even though he knew he was to blame, only because of the goodness of her heart. But she must have been lying, or otherwise, why couldn't he be convinced of the truth of her words? She was lying because she loved him and she didn't want to see him sad all the time. So many days, in the beginning, dragging him out of his room so that they could eat together and listen to the radio and even dance when a waltz came on.
He shook his head. The more he thought of her, the sadder he became tonight. He remained turned away while Hudson put on a pair of jeans and one of his skin-tight t-shirts. He welcomed the warm hand on his shoulder. Maybe one day, he'd find the courage to tell his new friend everything and leave it up to him to judge and decide whether Otis was still someone he wanted to be friends with.
That begged the question. "Are we going to be friends?"
Hudson laughed softly. "I like to think that we are there already. What remains is to become even better friends. What do you think?"
Otis nodded eagerly. "Yes, I would very much like that."
***
Friendship wasn't exactly what he had in mind when looking at those plump inviting lips and that hypnotic eye. Yet, it had to do. He was getting too close, as things stood.
Otis opened the door to his apartment and then half-turned toward him. "Can you still drink coffee at this hour?"
"I'd better not. Wait, are you asking me to pay you a little visit?"
"Yes," Otis confirmed. "I don't have coffee anyway. I will bring some from work."
"Just for me?" Hudson asked.
"Yes."
He wasn't surprised anymore. So no, no one was allowed to snatch this precious boy from his grasp, for as long as he could help it.
As soon as he was inside, he noticed the large mirror leaning against the wall. Otis avoided it with seemingly practiced ease and then stopped. "I'm sorry about the mess. I guess it needs to be put on the wall, but I don't know how to do it."
"I'll help you," Hudson promised.
He followed Otis into his small bedroom. It was sparsely appointed, and only the good taste in pastel colors for the few furnishings in it saved it. There was barely any room to maneuver, and the credenza he had brought in that day only caused the space to shrink even more. It wasn't his place to comment on Otis's choices for interior decoration, although he doubted that was what motivated his neighbor to make such choices. What had he said that day? That he needed to bring in some beautiful things?
The next thing he noticed was the array of various glass figurines that took up a thin shelf. He carefully picked one up and looked at it; it was a tiny mouse staring up with begging eyes, a small piece of cheese between its front paws. To observe all those details, he needed to bring it close to his eyes, that incredibly small the glass figurine was.
"That cost a real fortune," Otis said with pride in his voice.
"Oh. I should put it back then," Hudson replied. He had no idea how much a thing like that could cost, but he didn't want to break Otis's heart by breaking it by accident.
"It's all right. I can tell you are very careful with other people's things." Otis came close to him and began pointing at the other miniscule figurines. "That pig, I got three months ago. It was a good week at work and I had plenty saved from before. And that crocodile was a real steal. I bought it at a 21% discount."
"They are so small," Hudson expressed his astonishment. "You know," he joked, "for someone into the heavy stuff like you, I was expecting something else from your bedroom."
Otis put the tiny mouse back as it were and stared at him in surprise. "What do you mean? What heavy stuff?" Hudson pointed at his neck suggestively. Otis touched his choker. "Is this heavy stuff? You didn't let me have the studded one."
"You're not a vicious dog to train you with that kind of thing," Hudson replied, playing into dangerous territory as if nothing else mattered.
"Hmm," Otis grunted and pursed his lips. "Is it bad to be easy to train?"
They weren't supposed to be having this conversation. They were just coming from the hottest sex Hudson had had in weeks, no matter how tame it must have seemed compared to his usual man on man action. He turned the conversation toward safer topics. "Why do you like these things so much?" No one had a collection of animal figurines smaller than a human fingernail without having a real appreciation for that sort of craftsmanship.
Otis leaned over to observe his treasures up close. "Don't you think it would be nice? To be so small that you could move through the world without getting noticed? And then, when someone wanted to look at you, really look at you, they'd notice all the little details about you? I have a magnifying glass if you want to look at them some more," he added while straightening his back.
"Another time. I hope you'll invite me over more often now that we're not strangers anymore." Hudson smiled to reassure his eccentric neighbor of his best intentions.
"Without a doubt."
For a few moments, they stared at each other, saying nothing. Hudson caressed Otis's cheek slowly. "How small do you wish you could be?" Otis stared back, unblinking. That was another unnerving thing about him, but Hudson was getting used to it. "As small as that mouse? Don't tell me you'd wish you were invisible."
Otis shook his head slowly. "No. But small enough to forget."
That must have been a slip of the tongue because as soon as the words left his mouth, he pursed his lips and looked away. Hudson pulled him into a hug and a kiss. "Good night, Otis. See you around."
***
Otis lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time after Hudson was gone. No one had come into this room before. It wasn't the right place for having someone over. There was no space to sit, except on the bed. And if they sat on the bed, together, that meant—
He touched the heart-shaped buckle again. He loved it. Grandma had always made such a big fuss of his birthday. She'd loved going all out, cake and decorations, and, of course, the gifts. One thing he hadn't said to Hudson earlier was that the oldest piece in his collection, the blue seahorse, had been a present from her. She had told him at the time that seahorses were symbols of good luck, and he had believed her. That had been the last of his birthdays they had spent together. Afterward, she had fallen ill, too ill to bake him cakes and buy him beautiful glass figurines.
Hudson said they were friends now. He believed it desperately; not just trying to believe it. Grandma had used to say that, too; that you needed to believe in things, such as seahorses that meant good luck. That must have been why he had met Hudson. Yes, sometimes, it was enough to believe.
***
He was a man with a job now. Watkins had established a routine for him, and he was in charge of populating the business' website with artistic pictures of the models, in all sorts of racy getups and postures. That was the easy part. As long as he had to deal with people like Angel, who seemed to know exactly what they were getting themselves into, he could guard his emotions well.
That wasn't the case at the moment. He hadn't seen Jasper since he had left him in tears that night. He had tried to ignore the plea in the watery eyes, steeled himself against it because he couldn't blow his cover just because the boy ended up getting used more than he thought he deserved.
He adjusted the focus on his camera, while Jasper lay on the red sofa in front of him. The crimson velvet made his pale skin appear vulnerable. The shadows of veins underneath the skin caused him to look like a statue slowly being brought to life. His eyes were red, the lids inflamed, and the marks around his neck from when Angel had choked him while holding one knee pressed hard against his crotch were still visible.
"Are you all right?" Hudson asked, pretending that he still needed to fiddle with the camera.
Jasper closed his eyes and then turned his head toward the door, his eyes wide. Like a startled animal, Hudson thought. "Yes," he replied in a meek voice and faked a smile.
"Do they hurt?" Hudson asked, pointing at the marks around his neck.
Jasper touched them gingerly and winced as he pressed one with the tip of his forefinger. "No."
Another lie. And his eyes kept darting toward the door, as if he was expecting someone to burst through at any moment and hurt him. With steady moves, Hudson walked over and opened the door. He stepped outside and looked to both left and right. There was no one there. It didn't mean that invisible eyes weren't watching them. He expected it. Jasper, in his ignorance, must have had no idea of where to look.
He returned and closed the door. He leaned over Jasper, crowding him under the pretense that he was explaining to him how to pose. When he was close enough, he whispered in his ear. "After our little session here, meet me at the café around the corner."
"Okay," came the barely audible, scared whisper. Once Hudson was back in his place, behind the camera, his tone turned forced and playful. "Want a piece of all this?"
Hudson grinned for show. "I'd rather not. We both have a job to do."
***
He checked his phone for the time. If Jasper didn't appear in the next half an hour, he would have to believe that the young man hadn't understood the real message hidden behind their small secretive exchange in the red room. For now, patience was required.
He had chosen a table as far from the windows as possible. Getting chummy with boys he intended to wrangle out of the hands of those suspicious individuals wasn't something he wanted to be known for. One thing that helped was how crowded the place was at that hour. And he had kept his jacket on to hide his tattoos. The personnel seemed too busy taking orders from delivery people and day workers to pay attention to him, but he liked to play it safe.
To his right, an elderly couple was sharing a small cake with a candle impaled in it. They seemed lost in their own world, talking in soft voices and laughing from time to time. What did young people say today? Relationship goals? Hudson shook his head. The other table close to him was filled with a group of hip youngsters that didn't appear to be employed. That explained why they could afford to waste time like this. Still, even that rowdy bunch got up and left after a while.
Hudson was about to call it a bust when Jasper rushed in and searched for him with the jerky motions of a chased rabbit. He got up from his seat and waved at him until the boy noticed him. Jasper drew his head into his shoulders and hurried toward him without looking directly at his table. He was stealing nervous glances left and right and, when he sat at Hudson's table, it was easy to see that he was trembling.
Hudson didn't have to push Jasper into confessing what was going on.
"Man, you gotta help me," Jasper whispered, his eyes pleading, his entire body hunched forward.
"What with?" he asked. If this was some sort of trap, he needed to take his time to read the troubled youngster in front of him.
Jasper blinked a few times, eyes darting to the side, out the large windows, over the elderly couple still indulging in their anniversary cake and quiet conversation. When he turned his head toward Hudson, his eyelashes were wet. "Those people are crazy," he whispered.
"How so?" Hudson asked in the same icy tone.
Jasper threw him an incredulous look. He pulled back a little. "Did you want me here so you could screw me?" he asked.
There was real hurt in those eyes. And desperation. And terror. Hudson didn't need any other confirmation. If he was reading this one wrong, Jasper deserved an Oscar and needed to ditch his porn career for Hollywood. "No. I wanted you here to hear why you're so scared."
Jasper hesitated. Now he was the one suspecting Hudson. "You're not with them, are you?" He leaned over the table again. "You don't seem to be... I mean, they just hired you, right?"
Hudson gestured for Jasper to come near. He pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. "Sit by my side so we can talk."
The boy obeyed without making a fuss about it. His shoulders were still hunched, and he moved like a scared, beaten dog. He slid into the seat next to Hudson, pressing against him. He looked down and began talking rapidly. "I thought they just liked to play rough, you know? I mean, you've seen Angel. He's a demented fuck. He almost killed me that time. I swear to God, if he'd done it, they wouldn't have cared."
"Slow down, Jasper. Tell me what you've heard."
"How do you know I've heard something?"
The hesitation and lack of trust were natural. However, now that he had the confirmation that something was happening at Twinlight, Hudson didn't want to dally. "Call it intuition. Come on, man, you look like you're about to jump out of your skin. Tell me everything. I will help you."
"Do you promise? Can you?" Jasper asked in a pleading voice.
"Yes and yes. Now spill it. The faster we move, the better. But first, tell me everything you know."
Jasper linked his hands and pressed them with his knees. "I heard them talking. About fresh meat. They were talking about me. They said I wasn't pretty enough to keep."
A pregnant silence followed. "And they didn't mean they were going to fire you," Hudson said calmly.
Jasper shivered by his side, so Hudson draped an arm around him. For anyone who looked, they were the picture of any couple sharing a latte in a café. He pushed his cup toward the boy. "What were they talking about?" he asked calmly.
"I don't know exactly, but they were talking like... I don't know. Like they wanted to put on a show with me. At a new place."
Hudson's ears perked up. "What place?"
"Till The Sweet End," Jasper replied. "So they called it. And they laughed."
"Slow down," Hudson advised him again. "Who were they? Watkins and who else?"
Jasper bit on his bottom lip and winced. "I was behind the curtain and was supposed to have gone on a break. So I didn't see them. There were at least two other guys. One sounded like he was the real boss. He had a strange voice."
"Strange how?" Every little detail mattered.
"He sounded like a robot," Jasper replied. "I've never heard anyone talk like that before. I thought, at first, that Watkins was playing with some machinery or something. But their conversation... that didn't sound like something a robot would talk about."
Hudson had his theories about the robot-like voice, but he wasn't about to offer Jasper a crash course on them. They had no time for that. "Okay, continue. You say there was someone else there, besides Watkins and this boss of his."
"Yeah, but he didn't talk very much. They both treated him like he was their servant. It could have been one of the bouncers, but I didn't have the guts to look."
"Tell me more about their conversation. Till The Sweet End, you said?"
"Yes. They said they could use me as the debut piece. They talked about... making it last. Making me last." Jasper's voice turned so quiet that Hudson had to hold him really close to hear him. "They used words like finished, done for, like that. And then, the bouncer guy asked if... when he would have to get rid of the body."
Hudson schooled his face into a neutral expression and looked ahead, taking in the daily noise of human existence, so oblivious to the darkness lurking in the shadows. "What did they say next?" he asked.
"Didn't you hear me, man?" Jasper asked anxiously. "They made it sound as if I was the body."
"The bouncer mentioned the body," Hudson reminded him.
"Does it matter?" Jasper's voice came out as a frightened squeal.
"Yes. Everything matters." It mattered because otherwise, cases got dismissed, and murderers walked free.
"The one with the robot voice told him off. He said something about him being distasteful or something like that. But he did talk about a body!"
"When is this debut supposed to take place?" Hudson asked.
"Are you nuts? I need to fucking disappear!"
"I will make it happen," Hudson said calmly. "But I need all the details you can give me. And if you want to disappear so much, how come you haven't tried to run?"
"You think I haven't tried?" Jasper swayed between desperate and angry. "But they put that guy Jackie on my case. He sticks to me like glue."
Hudson worked his jaw. Jasper wasn't playing him, but he wasn't that bright either. "Where is he now?"
"I told him I was going to get a coffee and promised him one, too."
"Was Jackie with the boss and Watkins that time when you overheard that conversation?"
"I don't think so. That guy can't keep quiet for a minute."
Hudson stood from his seat and took Jasper by the arm. "We need to leave now."
"Oh, fuck," Jasper whispered. "Oh, no."
Hudson looked ahead, knowing already what to expect. Jackie was pushing through the waves of people, his eyes already on them.
He threw one arm over Jasper's shoulders and smiled. "Let me do the talking. Everything I say, your only job is to agree with me. And do it without looking like you're about to get lynched."
"Easy for you to say, man. Fuck, I'm done for."
"No, you're not." Jackie was barely a few feet away and grinning at them.
"My man, Vegas," Jackie said and offered his hand. "So nice to see you. How's work?" He winked and then turned his head to look at Jasper.
Hudson took the offered hand and shook it hard enough to make Jackie focus on him. "Good enough."
"Awesome for me, too. I'm in charge of watching Jasper, you know?" Jackie let go of Hudson's hand. "Make sure he doesn't want for anything."
"That so?" Hudson asked. "He just told me you sent him on a little errand."
Jackie rubbed the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. "He offered. Hey, man, what's with you?" he asked, his attention trained on Jasper now. "Have you been crying or something?"
"It's his mother. He just got the news. Terminally ill."
"Yeah," Jasper whispered softly and looked down. "She's got it bad."
Jackie's face metamorphosed into what looked like genuine concern. "Ah, man, I'm so sorry to hear that. Fuck, is there anything I can do? Just name it."
"Jasper needs to go be with her," Hudson continued. "And he needs to go now."
"Sure, sure," Jackie said but he didn't sound convinced. "I should call the boss and tell him--"
Hudson grabbed his arm. "You can tell him later. Now, we're going to take Jasper to the bus station and send him home."
"Okay, okay, sure, but just let me grab my bitter fix. Two minutes. I know these guys," Jackie promised and hurried toward the counter.
Hudson began talking quickly while slipping Jasper one of his cards and all the cash he had on him. "We go to the bus station, and you buy two tickets, in different directions. We'll load you into one of them, and then, I'll grab Jackie. You get down and climb on the other. Call me as soon as you can so that I can ensure your safety."
"They might find out. They might squeeze the truth out of you," Jasper whispered.
"So don't let me know that second destination. I'll find a way to keep Jackie in the dark while you buy the tickets. This way, they won't be able to squeeze anything out of me."
"Why are you doing this?"
Hudson remained silent for a moment. "It's my job," he said curtly and smiled as Jackie returned with a sealed cup in his hand.
***
"Poor guy," Jackie said and shook his head as they left the bus station.
Under the pretext that they both needed to be back to work ASAP, Hudson had dragged Jackie away just as Jasper boarded the first bus.
"You know, my momma passed away a couple of years ago, too," Jackie continued blabbering.
Hudson was all eyes and ears but pretended to be preoccupied by other stuff. "Yeah, that's tough."
"Man, you're all ice," Jackie complained. "I mean, you've never lost someone like that, huh? That must be it. I barely kept from crying in front of Jasper right now." He looked out the car window and sniffled. "But you, you're the big man, right?"
"What can you do?" Hudson said with a shrug.
"How the fuck am I going to break the news to the big boss?" Jackie continued his lamentation after a couple of minutes of silence.
"About what?"
"About Jasper taking off like that. He told me that Jasper would be our first hot number for the new club."
"What new club?" Hudson asked, acting as if he was hearing about it for the first time.
"He hasn't told you? Damn, big man, you're not one of the guys yet. That means you should work harder. Anyway, I'll tell you because I like you."
"Lucky me," Hudson said and offered Jackie a grin when the guy turned to stare at him. "Come on, shoot, what new club?"
"It's still in the works, but it's going to be huge," Jackie bragged. "Jasper needed some serious training before the big opening, and I guess the boss needs to find a replacement now."
Details, details, details. He needed more of them, but he couldn't act too eager. "Too bad his momma got ill."
"Yeah. Anyway, it's a couple of months until then. They'll find someone else, I bet," Jackie said.
"And what's the name of the club?" Hudson asked as if he was just making conversation.
"Right, I didn't tell you. Till The Sweet End. Pretty neat, huh?"
Indeed. Hudson looked away so that Jackie didn't see his nostrils flaring. Fresh scent. And he was on the hunt.
TBC
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