Date: Sun, 25 Mar 2001 07:37:17 -0800 (PST) From: Zane Green Subject: Underground Angel: Part Six 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 also want to note that it is disgraceful that real children come to any harm in this world. Children are our future. In a story however every character is just a reflection of the author, all of these characters are just part of my own imagination, and I am a wise enough reader to realize the same is true with each story I read. I can't list all of the authors at Nifty I enjoy all I can say is write on....everyone. I was shaken up, and yet I wondered how many nights I would jerk off thinking of my experience in the tearoom. I was getting confused as well. The upper part of Grand Central is for the metro trains. I knew that John had to be referring to the subway below the street level. It was only 8:45. I can't believe that I serviced two strangers in the last fifteen minutes. For some bazaar reason I thought about my gross for my 15 minutes as a male prostitute. That would be $440.00 an hour or 880,000.00 a year for a 50 hour week. Of course I would most likely only last a week or two at that rate. I would end up giving most of the money to my lawyers...nah, not even worth while fantasy. It did remind me of my true business, the ad agency and I decided I had better call Len. I looked at the bank of payphones. I didn't even have a credit card so I had to push my way between one teenage girl fighting with her boyfriend over who was going to take care of their baby so she could go rollar-bladeing with her other friends, and one dude who was making something that sounded like he was either trying to sell drugs or encyclopedias I couldn't tell. They let me squeeze in to use the middle phone. I wiped the mouthpiece with my hand and fished in my pockets for change. The guy on the phone must have felt sorry for me. He pulled out a few quarters and tossed them over. I dialed Len at his home. After the second ring he picked up the phone. "Hey Len. It's me. "Where are you?" "Never mind that, I'm going to be all tied up tonight, and may not get in tomorrow." "What do you mean all tied up? Are you calling me from one of those S and M bars where they tie you on racks and wrap your scrotum in leather." "Len, I'm blushing." "I'm worried about you Kurt, you sound different. I called to stop your credit card and cell-phone bills by the way. They're cancelled, now. Are you staying out of trouble? I can't handle this! I don't know what you're up too." "Len, I'm just trying to help someone." "He better be worth it!" "He is!" "I still think you're going over the deep end! Listen, before I left the agency Jake called, you remember our Tranka soda client. "Yes, is he pulling the account?" "No, oddly enough, no thanks to you! He wanted to know if you needed any help? What in hell's name are you involved with?" "Tell him no, ahh wait maybe he can find out what private New England boarding school was expecting a foreign student that never showed up." "A student? Are you involved with a boy?" "Len, I can't hear you, something happened, there is a commotion behind me." "What do you mean?" "Police sirens, wait, the guy next to me said that someone was stabbed to death, a transit worker apparently." "Oh God! Go home Kurt, I can't take this! Kurt! Kurt!" I let the phone drop down as I realized that police tape was going up on track eight.