Date: Thu, 22 Mar 2001 19:36:42 -0800 (PST) From: Zane Green Subject: Re: UnderGround Angel-5 Underground Angel: Part Five by Zane Hunter Green This story is copyright by the author. It can not be placed on a for pay site. It is a fantasy, and is not about anyone real. It has minor characters, and is intended only for a mature audience. Comments are very welcome and appreciated at ZaneG7@excite.com Flames will go up in smoke. I would like to thank my two friends for inspiring me as always with their stories. I stopped at the cash machine, and slipped some bills in my briefcase. Thanks to the mugging I was without my wallet. I had more important things on my mind than reporting lost credit cards however. I had a feeling Len was making all those phone calls for me. I was now on my way to Brooklyn by subway to the Transit Museum. I thought that I would be observant while jammed on the 2 train, and try to peek at my fellow passengers. My fears of gaping like a tourist got the better of me, and the more I saw the greater my heart went out to Sash, that he had been forced at such length to take shelter in this world, where to stare at someone was to invite hostility. Like other's around me I screened myself in a newspaper, in my case the Village Voice that I had filed in my briefcase the other day. I almost forgot where I was as I read about an award winning autobiography by a man named Andy. I started to think how I would obtain a copy, when the train entered Brooklyn and roared into the Borough Hall-Court Street station. This museum was an abandoned subway station, it had the musty smell one encounters deep in the gutted underground, but in contrast it had high ceilings and Italian tiles that were regal. I made a note to spend more time there someday. I saw myself guiding a beautiful young boy by the hand, pointing out what the subway looked like in it's heyday when it was filled with painted walls, and mosaics. The boy, who was of course Sash, would react with enthusiasm loving me for making a fairytale out of his sordid adventure. Sash would be the hero, and I the knight-errant. I would ... well I had to interrupt my thoughts. I had too much to do, and a total uncertainty of my plans. I wandered into a gift shop looking for maps. There were of course maps everywhere, on neck- ties and coffee cups, and shower curtains. I smiled as I thought about my last companion in the shower, he was so lovable as the water streamed down on his lean body washing the dirt and soot away, revealing a beautiful boy with a stiffy who wanted to caress me with soap Well I had to stop thinking about Sash and find some of the old maps. Unfortunately all of the maps were up to date. Then in the book section I spotted an out-of print book that looked like it had been sitting on the shelf since the museum opened. It was full of information about the systems, tunnels, and discontinued stations and lines. I had hit the jackpot. I quickly purchased the book from a chatty sales clerk and made my way down Livingston Street until I reached a small Greek coffee shop to study the maps in the book. I really would make a terrible detective, as I never noticed that I had been followed, until a MTA worker sat next to me, I looked at his uniform and read his name, John Cortofski. He was a burly man, with one of those old fashion mutton- chop mustaches. " Hi, this place has good gyros, the lamb is on the spit all day." He shared. "Do I know you?" "No, but I know who you are." "Believe me I am not some type of celebrity, there is nothing to know about me." He smiled broadly "I saw you at the Transit Museum." "You did, I didn't see you?" "Oh I was there, you interested in the old subway lines?" "Yes, you work for New York Transit." "Yeah, and, I give private tours." "What do you mean private tours?" "Of the tunnels, there's seven layers down you know, but even I have only been to four of them." "Oh?" "They say in the underground caves of New York there are humans with skin grown over their eyes." "And rats the size of donkeys too, I suspect." "Nay, just the size of a dog, the wharf rats." "Ugh, I hate rats." "I know, most people do. Sashcha likes them however, he can tame them with his voice." "You know Sashcha?" I tried to keep my voice from showing my excitement at hearing his name. "Yeah, we know that he went home with you, we're very worried about him you know. So he's not with you anymore?" "No." "And Sam said that he never returned to get his belongings." "He asked me to find Sam." I told him after he mentioned the name, kind of like a password. "Sam's hard to get to, however on my night shift I have a old train that I sometimes run down the closed line off Park Ave. You want to go for a ride tonight." "What do you mean a ride" "I keep a few of the old cars around, you know the ones with wooden turn-tables. I can go practically wherever I want in the old tunnels. I like to bring food to some of my friends who live in the tunnels. They look out for my business, and I take care of them. Enough said." "How did you know that I would be at the Transit museum?" I asked "Where else would one go for old maps? Sam told me to find you." He told me. "So how much for the tour?" "Usually a grand, but as you're a friend of Sashcha's, 20." "Where will I meet you?" I was almost beside myself having found a tour guide to the hell I had to enter to help Sash. " Look I'm not sure which gate will be closed tonight that I can use. I usually take an off line cab to my storage area. The best place to meet would be the men's room in the market terminal by Grand Central. Then I can tell you which gate I'll be waiting for you at. " "Won't it seem odd to be meeting in the men's room?" "Nay, that shit stop is a tea room. A lot of men hang out in there. You wait until the shoe-shine man has a red sign up, that means the bulls will be staying away for an hour or so, they usually do around 7:30, some of the wall street boys like a quick fix before they have to go home to their wives." "I wasn't going to get into the meaning of all this, and I wish I didn't have to. "So when the tearoom is clear go in there." He instructed "And I take mine with two lumps and cream" I tried to add levity to this increasingly bazaar situation. "What?" He asked "Nothing, so what time do I meet you in this tearoom?" I was envisioning men caressing cock everywhere as they discussed what stocks to buy. " Around 8:30 tonight, that's the best time to walk into the tunnels, Listen wait in the third stall in the men's room, that's the one at the end. I'll try to meet you there myself, I'll knock on the wall the number of the track. You know one knock if it will be one two if it will be gate two. "I get you, what if someone else knocks on the door?" I asked. "I'll say, I really have to go home now, then you will know it's me." "Ok, I think I can do that." I said with some hesitation. I didn't like the idea of hanging around a tearoom. " But, if something comes up I'll send a message with a friend. They'll tell you which gate I'll meet you at in Grand Central, then I'll be there at 9:00, that's when I start my shift." He said "What else?" I said liking the idea even less. "Go home and change, you don't want to look like you just stepped out of GQ." He instructed. "What should I dress like?" "Let's see, jeans, a sweater, nothing that looks new or good, and pack a flashlight." He said. I went to the brownstone and thought about calling Len and letting him know where I was going, but he was too much like a Mother hen, and I was afraid that he would bring me to my senses and talk me out of it. I almost did anyway as I was getting nervious about this ordeal. I mean this was real life, not a movie where everything is guarenteed to end up happily as Fred or John goes dancing out in the night. I have to admit that I almost quit until I looked beside my bed and saw a green cord, it was one of Sash's shoelaces and it was folded in such a way to look like a heart. I remembered his face as he looked at me in despiration and signed,"Find me". Those unusual violet-blue eyes looking at me like I was his best friend in the world, he had been trying so bravely not to cry as he was forcefully taken from me. I don't think anyone ever depended on me before, and he was a boy who deserved only to be loved, not left in the care of men who terrorized even me. I had to help him, I had no choice. I really didn't have any clothes that looked less than designer. Finally I uncovered a pair of jeans, and an old sweater that I used to wear in college when I went hiking. I liked tight clothes in those days I was such a show-off. I packed a flashlight, some matches, and a swiss army knife, a gift from several lovers back, that had no idea what to get me for Christmas. I never used it, and as we broke up two months later it had landed unused buried among my socks . I thought I was prepared. I would have packed some KY jell, and condoms if I knew what was ahead. I ordered a pizza, and played some music, feed Aries who was wolvishly hunger and helped me eat the mushroom pizza. Then I showered, shaved, and got dressed in the clothes that still miraculously fit, although I had to sacrific my boxers to get them on. The denim hugged my sack and I knew I would have a hard time if I got arroused, somehow though the thoughts of a tea room and going down the tunnels of Grand Central was not doing it for me. I walked to the site where I was to meet up with John. I noticed the shoeshine man outside, he had a red sign up so I took at deep breathe and walked in. I could only hope that John would be inside waiting for me. I cased over the urinals quickly. I had to take a piss so I got in the line up and pulled down my zipper. There were some interested eyes, but unfortunitly none of them were John's I therefore had to look occupied until the last stall was vacated. I washed my hands twice, then once again. Finally the door swung open and two men came out. I had only seen one pair of legs so I wasn't surpised that I had to wipe seamen from the toilet seat. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to spend much time in the stool until John tapped on the outer door. This was starting to remind me of the one time I went into a backroom down on Christopher street, but I was not sober at the time nor this restless. I almost wished I brought a printout of my favorite Nifty story to read. One about a young male dancer down in Australia. Instead I had to play the scenes in my head. I was just getting to the good part about the truckdriver and hamburgers when I heard a voice in the stall over one.That was when I noticed that the toilet paper bar was off it's hinge. "Pull it back" "What?" I asked. "The bar, move the bar the voice hissed. I then noticed the hole in the metal, it actually was sand blasted down. I was hoping this was the messinger John was sending, as I figured he was unable to come in here himself. He told me that he would send a way for me to know what gate to met him at. Well something was coming through the hole in the wall, it was a prick, a rather large one at that. I almost turned away until I noticed a number 8 on the shaft. It looked like the messinger had taken red lipstick, and had drawn an eight on the tender skin of his cock, okay a very creative way to send a message. I was about to leave when I heard the voice whisper "We're being watched, get down on the seat of the toilet, and twist towards me and start sucking my cock." Sure enough from my periperal vision I noticed someone peering over the stalls. I banged the toilet lid down, sat down and leaned over, and opened my mouth. and once again had a strange cock wanting to be blown. The number eight was greesy, and coming off on my lips. The cock was another thing altogether. It was warm and tender skin, but the atmosphere was dim, smelly, and embarrassing. I found a pressed mint in one of my pockets. I slipped it into my mouth and started to feel the added pleasure. The strange messinger also agreed. "This is good, very good! OH ohhhhh wow! He started pumping into my mouth which was now I was sure stained with lipstick and sperm. I really felt like a whore when 10 dollars came dangling down from the top of the stall. I looked up and the spectator was still watching. Well he would think I was just a slut who turned tricks. I was about to leave when I heard a new voice. "Hey boy pull down your jeans and press your anus against the hole so I can fuck you." I froze. "Listen I'll give you one hundred." At that more money floated down from above. I was ready to throw the money back and make a dash for it when I heard the man who was watching me say to someone below him. "It's just a whore, I want to watch him get screwed, then we'll look for our man elsewhere." "The boss won't like it if you linger in here, he's sure the man knows where the boy hid the box, we need to look for him" Damn I was going to have to service this patron of the tearoom. "Do you have a rubber?" I called. "Yeah, It's on, I'm hot baby, it's on... lets go, I want your nice sweet little hole pressed against the big hole in the wall." This was a nightmare, I slowly pulled down my jeans then I quickly spit on my hand and bend over to try and lubercate my asshole. This was not going to be any fun. My friends called me a slut because I always had my share of interest, but I had never done anything like this before. I had to keep in the back of my mind that I was doing it to help Sashcha, to to keep myself from getting killed. I guess it was getting around, that there was a new stud in town, although from the throbbing in my butt I was feeling more like a very humiliated bottom. After I serviced the man in the next stall, I finally realized that the goons had left. When I felt safe enough to go out there was quite a line of men waiting to go into the ajoining stall. "Hey you're not leaving yet beauty" One called out. This was not my idea of moonlighting! I ran out the door so fast I almost forgot to pull my jeans up. Who ever was next to use my stall had 110 dollars waiting for them wrinkled on the floor. I swore that going to the men's room would never be the same! Then I started walking calmly to Gate 8. I was now getting paranoid, I turned around thinking that someone was following me but I could only detect the press of late evening comunters.