Date: Thu, 8 Mar 2007 23:26:51 +0000 (GMT)
From: Nexis Pas <nexispas@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: No Experience Needed

No Experience Needed
(c) 2007 by the author
Nexis Pas

Vince spotted the new guy as soon as he opened the door. Two
men in their mid-twenties had entered just before him, and
Sid, the bouncer at the door that night, had nodded them in
after barely glancing at their IDs. He devoted more time to
the new guy, carefully checking both sides of the ID and
holding it up to the light to match the picture against the
real face. Even in the ill-lit room, it was easy to see why.
The kid didn't look as if he met the Cinque Ports' minimum
age requirement. The bar didn't admit anyone under 21, and
it discouraged anyone who was obviously over 30. Sid must
have had his doubts about the ID. He tapped it against the
podium at the door and then spoke to the guy. The kid
stepped to one side to let others in the queue in. Sid
flipped his phone open and spoke briefly into it. The bar
continued to fill as more people pushed in. The rain must
have started again. A noisy group came in and stood at the
door stamping their feet and shaking their coats like dogs
ridding their fur of water. They laughed at Sid's mock
protests as the bouncer theatrically brushed drops of water
off his clothes. Vince could see the kid surreptitiously
checking them out, as if he were making notes on how to
behave in a gay bar. The mini-drama at the door had Vince's
full attention now.

The door at the rear of the bar opened and Mike, the
manager, threaded his way past the bartenders, his eyes
automatically checking their speed and the number of
customers lined up trying to get a drink. Mike pushed his
way slowly through the crowd, stopping frequently to greet
someone and say a few words. Some of the customers got a
slap on the shoulder, others a hug or a finger poke. For
business purposes, Mike was friendly and matey. It was
considered a mark of distinction in the Cinque Ports to be
noticed by him, and he dispensed his attentions carefully,
hoarding that capital as if it were a precious metal. Anyone
who did not quite meet the standards the Cinque Ports wanted
to see in its patrons and dared to speak to Mike risked
getting only a perfunctory nod of dismissal.

It took the manager at least fifteen minutes to navigate his
way to the front door. Sid handed him the kid's ID, and Mike
motioned the kid to step over. He looked at the ID and then
at the kid. For a second Vince thought he would deny the kid
entrance. A stray flash of light illuminated Mike's face
briefly, and Vince could see that the expression of amused
disdain on the manager's face as he handed back the ID. The
kid said something to Mike. The manager half-turned to face
the room and shook his head in exasperation. He shrugged and
held up two fingers. The new guy could have two drinks and
then he had to leave. Mike immediately turned his back on
the kid and said something to Sid and to a man who had just
entered. He had done his good deed for the day. He had
devoted enough of his valuable time to charity that night.

The kid sidled into the bar. Vince watched as he found a
spot about ten feet into the room and stood there with his
back to the wall about as far from the action as it was
possible to get in the Cinque Ports. The crowd pushed him
further against the wall and shut him out. Again Vince had
an impression that he was studying the others, trying to
figure out how one behaved in places like this. In truth,
the kid didn't fit into the Cinque Ports. It was set up and
run to attract the fashionable, the popular, the good-
looking, the well-off gays from London. It was a place to be
seen, to be part of the scene. The kid was thin, dressed in
a grey windcheater with the zipper pulled almost up to his
throat. His hair hung in wet lanks from the rain and needed
to be cut. Anyone in the crowded bar who bothered to look in
his direction would dismiss him as a nerd. He was the type
of person who made everyone else glad they weren't him.

The kid looked over at the crowd of people trying to attract
a bartender's attention and get a drink. He smiled in
resignation at his ill luck and obviously gave up any notion
of fighting his way through that mob for one of the two
drinks he was permitted. His hands played with the pull tab
on the zipper, restlessly moving it up and down. The shiny
metal caught the light. Some oddity of the lighting in the
room made it flicker and wink at Vince. He probably was the
only person positioned to see it, he thought. The brief
smile and the flashing zipper made up Vince's mind for him.
They were the signs he needed. Vince motioned to Eddie and
held up two fingers in a V. Eddie nodded and swiftly pulled
two pints for him, barely pausing in his work to toss the
money Vince left on the bar into the till. Vince picked up
the glasses and deserted his seat at the bar. It was taken
before he had moved two steps. As he manoeuvred his way
through the crowd, careful to avoid sloshing the beer, he
conjured up his favourite mental image of himself. The
lithe, sleek jungle cat stalking his prey, his eyes gleaming
through the undergrowth, a dark shadow invisible to his
chosen victim until the last second before he struck and
pinned the hapless prey beneath his body. Vince was on the
prowl, and he had his next meal in sight. Virgin meat, by
the look of it. Just the type that Vince liked. Naive,
innocent, ready to be used and then discarded. Vince didn't
want one of the `desirables,' the `10s' that thought they
were doing you a favour by speaking to you. If he wanted a
10, he could look in the mirror. No, he wanted a guy who
even in his wildest fantasy would never imagine that someone
like Vince would stop in front of him and say, `Here, you
look like you could use a drink'. Vince was already looking
forward to breaking the kid's heart.

The kid stared at the glass of dark ale and then looked up
into Vince's face. His eyes widened in surprise as he took
in Vince's good looks. Vince raised the glass an inch and
tilted it toward the kid in the `here, take this, it's for
you' gesture. The kid complied. `Thanks.' He glanced shyly
down. A sliver of Vince's chest was visible through his
carefully opened shirt. Vince knew that the kid was getting
a look at the hard inner edges of his pectoral muscles. He
shifted slightly so that the shirt opened a bit more, to
give the kid a taste of his future viewing pleasures. The
flash of tanned skin seemed to embarrass the kid, and he
tried shift his eyes elsewhere. But Vince had positioned
himself to cut off the kid's view of the rest of the room.
Vince was easily six inches taller and much broader through
the chest and shoulders. The kid couldn't see around him or
over him unless he bent down and peered around Vince's
narrow hips, and somehow Vince knew the kid wouldn't do
that. Vince moved closer and clinked his glass against the
one the new kid was holding. `Cheers.'

The kid mouthed `cheers' in return. Over the noise in the
room, Vince couldn't hear the actual words, but the kid's
lips formed the right shapes. Up close he was cuter than
Vince had first thought. The kid had that fresh, unused look
that Vince liked. He could see why Mike had relented and
admitted him. With the right clothes and a better haircut,
he would fit right in. A few visits to the bars and he would
know how to dress. The daily workouts at the gym would
follow. He would `clean up good', as his old gran used to
say. For tonight, however, he belonged to Vince. The kid
didn't know it yet, but he did.

There were several dozen people in the Cinque Ports who
could have warned the kid what that meant, but they weren't
going to have a chance to tell him. Vince didn't doubt that
several of his former chosen ones had noticed him cross
across the room and understood what it meant when he stopped
to talk to the kid. If the room had been quieter, he was
sure that he would have been able to hear them gossiping
about him. Probably some of them were already jealous of the
kid. Others were taking pleasure in anticipating the not too
distant day in the future when Vince had ensnared the kid
and then dropped him and moved on. It was, Vince had once
explained to one of his discards, all part of the service he
performed for the new guys. He taught them the hard lesson
everyone had to learn.

For now, it was time for the old charm, the animal
magnetism. `My name's Vince.'

`Christopher Williamson.'

First point to me, thought Vince. Christopher Williamson was
so new that he didn't know enough to give only his first
name. Vince pretended he hadn't been able to hear over the
noise and moved closer, leaning down and turning his head
slightly so that `Chris'--he had already decided to shorten
the kid's name--could speak into his ear. Chris repeated his
name, and Vince smiled directly into his face. The kid's
eyes darted away, and he took a sip of his drink to cover
his confusion. Vince was gratified to see that he was having
an effect. He was standing so close that Chris's arm brushed
against his chest as he raised his glass. Let the kid have a
feel of what he would soon be experiencing. Chris jerked
back and apologized for the contact. Good, thought Vince, a
quick learner.

Vince was reminded of a little puppy. This seduction was
going to be fun. He started the process of making
conversation, relaxing Chris and getting him to lower his
barriers. Chris's ears soon got used to the loud music and
shouted conversations, and he begin to treat it as so much
background noise. Vince lowered his voice and isolated the
two of them. Chris would soon cease to be aware of his
surroundings. It is only a matter of time and my skills,
Vince thought. He murmured on, the gentle enquiries into
Chris's life, the nods of understanding, the sage hints from
the slightly older and more experienced mentor, a few
remarks in that ironic tone of his to insinuate that the two
of them stood apart from the others. He soon had Chris
relaxed enough to laugh and begin enjoying himself. Oh, I am
smooth, so smooth, thought Vince.

Chris had a nervous habit of fiddling with the tab on the
zipper on his windcheater. It was as if his free hand had to
have something to occupy it. Vince was beginning to find it
a bit annoying. In any case it was time to move things a
step further. The next time Chris let go of the zipper, he
reached over and pulled it down, making sure that the
knuckles of his hand brushed down Chris's chest and across
his stomach. The shocked intake of breath assured him that
Chris's reactions were proceeding in the right direction. He
let his hand rest on Chris's belt and flattened his fingers
against Chris's stomach. The kid's flesh was firmer than he
had expected. `Nice', he said. `Very nice.' Even the newest
kid on the block would not mistake his meaning.

It was then that he first saw the flash of light around
Chris's neck. Oho, the kid is wearing a chain, he thought.
It was the perfect opportunity to let Chris know that Vince
had arrived in his territory and was taking over. `What's
this?'  Vince grasped the chain and pulled it out from
beneath Chris's shirt. The chain was a thin braid,
intricately woven of silver threads. Attached to it was a
small medal of some sort.

`It belonged to my mum's great-grandfather. He was a soldier
in India. Brought it back with him. I was named after him.
It's the only thing of his I've got.' Vince held the medal
closer to his face so that he could examine it in the dim
light. The chain was so short that Chris had no choice but
to step closer to Vince. Vince spared him a quick smile. It
was just a cheap copper coin, Vince saw. The head of some
forgotten ruler was barely visible on one side. The obverse
had some writing in a script he couldn't read and an odd
device that made no sense to him. It looked like a upright
stone pillar of some sort. Nothing of any value, but it
obviously meant a lot to Chris. He kept it so brightly
polished that it was a wonder he hadn't worn it down to bare
metal. Vince thought it would do for his trophy for this
`brief liaison'. Payment enough for his efforts. It's the
thought that counts, he smirked inwardly, not its monetary
value. It would soon join the other trophies in his curio
cabinet, one for each relationship.

`It's hot.' The coin was oddly warm in Vince's hands. `You
have a hot body.' Vince put as much heat into his own voice
as he could muster, but the sound came out choked. The stale
air in the room was getting to him. In any case, it was time
to take Mr Williamson's education a step further. He touched
Chris's neck as he lowered the chain back under Chris's
shirt. He could see the outline of the coin beneath the
fabric, and he touched it briefly. Even through the cloth he
could feel the heat of the metal. Chris really has a hot
body, he thought.

`Are you ok, Vince? You look flushed.'

`I'm fine. Just getting a bit close in here.' Vince did feel
overheated.

`Do you want to get some fresh air? Cool off?'

About time you suggested we leave, thought Vince. And
cooling off is the last thing on my mind. `Yeah, let's get
out of here.' He placed his hand on the small of Chris's
back and guided him toward the door. That idiot Geoff
greeted him as they passed and lifted an eyebrow to let
Vince know that he found Vince's taste questionable. Well,
he's always been dense, thought Vince. Chris is worth a
dozen of those losers he's with. Geoff made some remark
behind his back. Vince couldn't hear what was said, but
there was a definite note of satisfaction in the laughter
that followed.

The wind was off the ocean that night. The rain had cleared
the air. After the fug and heat of the Cinque Ports, the
strong scent of sea came as a shock.  The moon had come out
once the clouds had cleared off. As they passed Paston
Place, he could see down the road to the Channel and feel a
cool breeze flowing up the street. `Ah, that feels good.
Let's walk down to the front. I like to watch the waves.
Maybe walk along the beach.' Mother Nature, his aide in
seduction, thought Vince as he made the suggestion. A pity
there was no sunlit meadow of flowery grasses to run
through, but the council kept the municipal lawns closely
cropped and the sun wasn't shining. The thought made his
laugh.

`Something funny?'

`Just happy to be with you, Chris.' The pleasantry rose
readily to his lips. He was back on track. The fresh air had
revived him. Well, it wasn't healthy to spend so much time
in bars. The heat, the crowds, all the colognes and scents
at war with one another. At least, the Cinque Ports didn't
allow smoking, that would have made it unbearable. Vince
stopped at the railing above the beach and leaned on it,
looking out over the Channel. The lights of several ships
were visible. He thought that he would like to take an ocean
voyage some day. To some place where it was warm all year,
and there was always sunlight and music, and the ocean was
blue and clear instead of grey-green and dirty. The
Caribbean, maybe. Anywhere away from Brighton. Chris stood
next to him, his arms wrapped around his chest. `Ah, you're
cold. I wasn't thinking. My place is only a few minutes'
walk. Come home with me.'

Even as he said it, he knew that something odd had happened.
He never invited anyone to his place. That was his
sanctuary. He never allowed anyone in it. He always insisted
that they go to the victim's place. But he and Chris were
already walking towards his door. It was too late to change.
`Uh, Chris, you do understand what is going to happen, don't
you?'

`I think so, Vince.'

`I have to ask. Have you ever  . . .'

`No, this will be the first time. I have no experience.'

`I'm a top. Do you know what that means?'

Chris laughed. `I've been reading up on the subject. I've
learned about as much as one can from the internet. I've
passed that pub lots of times and I've always wanted to go
in, but tonight was the first time I worked up the courage
to actually push the door open. But I know you'll be
considerate and patient and gentle, Vince.'

`Yes, of course.'

Ahead of them, Vince saw the woman who had the flat across
the hall walking her dog. Mrs Peirce, that was her name. She
always walked her dog at 10:30. Every night, always at the
same time. The dog was well trained. It never tugged at the
leash and always walked in the regulation position to its
owner's left, following a short distance behind her.

As soon as Vince closed the door behind them and turned the
lock, he gathered Chris into his arms and kissed him.
Chris's body was so hot. The heat penetrated Vince's body
and warmed him to the core. It was what he thought the
tropical sun must be like, melting one's body. He had never
felt so warm. It was as if he suddenly became aware that he
had been cold all his life.

Their clothes came off quickly. Soon all that they had on
between the two of them was the medal around Chris's neck.
Vince touched it again. It had become even hotter. `Doesn't
that burn?'

`No. It just gets hotter as I get aroused. It concentrates
my heat and transmits it.'

Vince was never sure later that he recalled Chris's
explanation correctly. But at the time, it made sense. It
seemed only natural that Chris's medal would make both of
them feel hot. I'm getting light-headed, thought Vince.
Chris's body was so perfect. So smooth and firm. He even
smelled so . . . what was that scent called? It was so
heady, like cloves and sandalwood and . . . those other
smells that filled the air outside Asian groceries. And his
skin glowed so in the light, like copper, burnished copper
that concentrated the light and the heat. He loved stroking
it, loved letting his hands glide over Chris's body and make
him feel good. The gasps of pleasure that escaped through
Chris's lips impelled Vince to even greater efforts to
arouse Chris.

`Vince, I don't know what to do. I mean, I've downloaded
videos off the net and watched, but I've never done . . .
I've never done any of that stuff before.'

Vince's gaze flowed down Chris's body to his groin. He
seldom sucked anyone. His partners sucked him. He didn't
know whether he could satisfy Chris, whether his technique
would be everything that Chris deserved for his first time.
It should be special for him, for Chris's first time. There
had been that guy last summer who was so good at sucking.
Jasper, that had been his name. Vince thought he could
duplicate Jasper's technique. Perhaps Chris would like that.
He would try anyway. And he would keep stroking Chris's
body. He always liked it when his partners used their hands
on him while they were sucking, stroking the backs of his
thighs and his buttocks. Multiple sensory input, maximum
overload, into the danger zone. And Chris's cock felt so
good in his mouth, so good against his tongue and his lips
and in his throat. Chris was so hot. He looked up and saw
the medal hanging from Chris's throat. It swung gently back
and forth. He couldn't take his eyes off of it. It was on
fire, red with Chris's heat.

Vince lost track of time. At some point, Chris pulled him up
and began kissing him, his tongue flicking in and out of
Vince's mouth, penetrating him. `What position do you like
best? In some of the videos I've watched, the guys face each
other. Sometimes the bottom guy is on all fours. Sometimes
they lie on their sides and the top penetrates the bottom
from the back or front. Which works best?'

`I like to face the guy.'

`Why?'

Vince could hardly tell Chris that he liked to watch the
spasm of pain on the bottom's face when his cock slammed
into him. That he enjoyed thinking that he was really raping
the guy and that the victim couldn't stop him. That he was
so much more powerful than that guy he was fucking.  `I just
want to see the expression on your face.' It sounded feeble
to him even as he said it, but it was the way he wanted
Chris to take him.

Chris stood up and arranged Vince on the bed so that his
butt was at the edge and his feet were on the floor. He
stood between Vince's legs, his magnificent body pressed up
against Vince. Vince moaned as he felt Chris cock brush
against him, and without thought he raised his legs and
placed his ankles on Chris's shoulders. The medal swung back
and forth across Christopher's beautiful golden chest. Back
and forth, filling Vince's gaze.

Vince didn't want to move. It was nearly two in the morning,
and he was afraid that if he moved the wonderful lassitude
that pervaded his body would dissipate and he would return
to normal, whatever that was. Christopher nuzzled his neck
gently and stroked his chest one final time. He eased his
arm out from beneath Vince's shoulders. `I have to go. I'll
see you tonight. Be at the Cinque Ports at 8:00.'

Vince nodded his agreement. He watched Christopher as he
pulled on his clothes. Christopher bent over Vince and
kissed him a final time and then left without looking back.
Vince heard the door to his flat open and then close. Mrs
Peirce's dog chuffed quietly from behind her door.
Christopher said something Vince didn't catch but the dog
didn't bark again. He knew he would see Christopher tonight
at 8:00 when Christopher came through the door at the bar.
He hoped that Christopher would see him.