The Thief
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The Thief
by Larkin
Peter was dressing to go out. It was late but in the city it never mattered. He pulled on a clean black tee shirt and threaded a belt through his pants and was out the door. He took the A train down to the Village.
It was a small dark intimate bar. The man told Peter his name but he instantly forgot it. They walked along Greenwich avenue. The man was cheerful and glad to have company.
Before they had left the bar, he had whispered in Peter's ear. "You don't have to reciprocate. I really don't mind."
Peter didn't look directly at him and nodded silently. He hadn't intended to reciprocate anyway. The man was shorter, in his fifties and balding. He wore an over sized sweater that hid his paunch and wore shoes with small gold plated buckles on them.
It was a small apartment on the second floor of a nice building. Peter climbed the stairs and was let in through a doubled locked door. The interior was a dark mini palace full garish antiques and oriental rugs. A dim multi-colored lantern hung from the ceiling giving the room an mystical and eerie light.
A voice from the kitchenette, "What can I get you to drink?"
Peter said, nothing. He didn't plan to stay long.
The man had lowered himself in front of Peter and stroked his thigh between his legs. There was a pause that went on too long for Peter's comfort. He looked down at the man. Peter's face lacked all emotion.
In a soft but firm voice, he said, "It's ok, do what you want to do, I won't think any less of you."
Peter didn't think much of the man to begin with. It was understood that he was getting a blow-job for money and that was the sum total of it. Being emotionally detached made it all the more lurid. He took out his half erected cock and shook it in front of the man's face. The man looked up at him and passively opened his mouth. Peter rudely stuck it in. This sort of encounter brought out the worst in him. He had contempt for the man beneath him and it stiffened his cock completely. He held the man's head with both hands as if it was some nameless object and fucked it hard. He roughly pushed the man away and then gestured him back on his cock for more. The man behaved as if he was being abused and humiliated against his will but they both knew that was exactly what he wanted and it was what Peter was getting paid for. Peter could feel his cum welling up inside of him and his cock stiffened even more. In and out of the man's mouth it went and he was getting close.
Peter said, "You want it?"
The man still had his mouth open. He didn't move while Peter masturbated into his mouth and let the syrupy cum fall in his mouth and across his face. Peter had full filled his task and was glad to be done with it. He was shaking his cock out in the man's face when the man suddenly clutched his chest and looking up at Peter, gasped and fell forward on to the floor. A strange gurgling sound came from him and then he was completely still.
"Oh shit! The motherfucker's dead. He must have had a heart attack."
Peter had no idea what to do. He stood there for many minutes. After more time had passed he finally knelt down next to the man and turned him over. He was blue. There was a contorted expression on his face as if he had been in awful pain and his eyes were open. The effect was unsettling. Peter guessed that he was dead.
He thought, "Motherfucker! I still gotta get paid.."
He went through the man's pockets and found a fold of bills.
He counted out the two that was owed him and then counted the rest.."Three, four, five hundred..."
He thought about it for a minute then put all the money in his pocket and got ready to leave.
Peter thought to himself, "He's not going to need the money, but I know I will."
He stopped just before he was going to open the door to leave. He turned around and surveyed the small apartment. "I better see if there's anything worthwhile before I go.
Peter found a shopping bag and started picking up some of the knick knacks made of glass and different color enamels that were all around the apartment. There were crystal birds and carved animals. He had no idea what they were or how much they were worth but he could find out later. He searched drawers and the closets. He was just putting a brightly colored egg into his bag when he saw the man sitting up.
"Just what do you think you are doing!"
He stopped, stunned to see the man alive again.
The man's voice was shrill, "I treat you like a friend and bring you to my home and now you are robbing me."
Peter looked confused, "I thought you was dead."
"I'm not dead. Now give me my things before I call the police."
He gave the man the shopping bag filled with his treasures.
"You would have walked out of here with all my beautiful things. I am sorry I ever met you. We could have been great friends and now I can never trust you again."
He struggled to his feet and Peter came over brushed off his clothes and tried to organize the man's collar.
Up close to the man Peter spoke in a calming and friendly voice. "We can still be friends and anyway, If you was dead, what difference would it have made? Wouldn't you rather see me get something than someone else?"
The man gave him a vague, slightly mischievous glance.
Peter said, "If you're alright, I better go, ok?"
The man walked Peter to the door. Before leaving, they embraced. Peter promised the man that he would come to visit again..
He never did.