Dating Rules and Pretty Fools Chapter 5

Dating Rules And Pretty Fools – Ch. 5

By Laura S. Fox

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 Five – Twinlight

In all honesty, Hudson had been expecting that call. He picked up, pretending that he didn't know who was calling, although he had saved that number in his phone the moment he had received the card from those gloved hands.

"Mr. Vegas," Watkins called from the other end. Not a question, not a greeting.

"Yes, this is he. Who's calling?" Hudson asked.

"I paid a visit to you the other day. You were unhappy with my appraising your merchandise."

Hudson moved his phone from one ear to the other, to gain time – and pretend that he still couldn't place the man calling. So, the asshole hadn't forgotten about seeing Otis at his place. "Merchandise?" he asked. "Oh, Mr. Watkins. I apologize. I should have saved your number. Business has been crazy lately."

"I can tell," Watkins said dryly. "Your website is booming with newcomers. And yet, you've sent not one our way."

Our way. Of course. Just as he had thought, Watkins was an underling, one with some leeway, without a doubt, but still a subordinate. "What can I tell you? It seems like only college kids with a sense of adventure drop by. They're not exactly your type, if I recall correctly."

"But you did have a few of those," Watkins said airily. "A young man. Jasper, I think his name is."

Hudson frowned. He hadn't published the photos he had taken of Jasper and his other friend at The Bouncing Bunny. What was Watkins playing at? And had Jasper already found his way into that cold man's clutches? Hmm, his moves at that seedy club must have been watched and reported.

"He's not particularly attractive," Hudson argued, without asking how Watkins knew about the boy. He had to pretend to be pretty stupid, too, or at least too full of himself to take a moment to think things through. "I thought your standards would be higher."

"Oh, he'll do," Watkins said airily. "For what we have in mind for him."

"And what might that be?" Hudson asked, pretending that he wasn't really interested and was just asking out of politeness.

"How about you pay a visit to our select club?" Watkins proposed.

Something was fishy. Watkins either suspected him or wanted something else from him. It didn't matter. He intended very strongly to pay a visit to that select club, whatever hellhole it would be. "I'm busy... and it looks like our businesses don't really align," he said, the opposite of what Watkins was expecting from a babbling fool like him.

"Oh, but I do think they could align very well," Watkins insisted. Hudson could easily imagine the cruel smile at the other end of the conversation. "If you saw what kind of entertainment we offer, you'd definitely be more able to select the proper candidates for us. Consider it a business proposal, one in the making, Mr. Vegas."

"Of course. If you put it like that, I feel very much obliged."

"You know," Watkins said after a short, measured silence, "you intrigue me, Mr. Vegas. At first glance, I'd say you're from the rougher part of town. Any town. But upon closer inspection, you strike me as someone with an education."

Of course. A shmuck. Someone who put on a few tattoos and tried to make it big in the porn industry, while having not a clue about the real players. Hudson very much liked to believe that his assumed persona had already fooled a shark like Watkins. However, he wasn't willing to walk blindly into this. Or to trust Watkins in everything he said, for that matter.

"I went to college. However, accounting felt too boring for me. Plus, I have the inclination to make bigger bucks than I would just working my ass off nine to five every day," he offered the explanation Watkins was looking for.

That appeared to satisfy the man on the other end. "That's refreshing, Mr. Vegas. It's not often that we meet your kind in this line of business. I look forward to getting to know you better."

Hudson was counting on that `we'. If there was someone above Watkins who wanted to know him, he was ready for it. "Same here, Mr. Watkins. Send me the details, and I'll pay you a visit at the soonest."

"How about tonight?"

Things were moving. Hopefully, not fast enough that he didn't get to get Jasper out of some terrible situation. However, he doubted Watkins was willing to show him their most dangerous type of entertainment from the get-go, provided that his business was part of the human trafficking ring. He was, after all, someone to be known and weighed for the moment.

***

Hudson had called him beautiful. Otis still turned that simple word over and over in his mind, while going about his cleaning duties. The shift would soon change, and he would be on the floor, waiting on customers, but, for now, for the extra cash Mr. Smith was giving him, he did some other chores. All in all, life felt pretty good. So, when his shift truly started, he brushed the hair out of his smaller eye without being reminded by the manager or Missy.

He saw Jackie at his usual place and walked toward his table with confidence. He had let Missy know that he didn't want to hide from such a loyal customer anymore and promised that he would always split the tips he got from the young man with her. Missy had patted his cheek in a motherly gesture and told him that, as far as that table was concerned, the tips would be all his, since it was because of him that the guy was dining there so often.

Jackie's face lit up as he walked over with the menu in his hands.

"Good evening, sir," Otis said pleasantly. "We are happy to see you again."

Jackie grinned and batted his long, curly eyelashes. "For real? And don't call me `sir'. Weren't you saying I was too young for you?"

"I apologize for that. I shouldn't have insulted you."

Jackie waved. "Water under the bridge. Hey, what would you say about a little bit of dancing?"

"Dancing? Here?" Otis looked around. The restaurant owner took great pride in offering a pleasant quiet atmosphere, a reason for which the establishment catered mostly to seniors, and all that, without putting obscene prices on the menu.

"No, not here obviously," Jackie said and laughed. "Although, I wouldn't mind waltzing you all over the place."

Otis was impressed. He offered the menu he was still holding. "Do you know how to do that? Waltz?"

Jackie laughed again. He seemed like a very happy fellow. "I like it more when hip action is involved."

"So you prefer Latin American dances?" Otis asked, more and more intrigued by Jackie's abilities.

"You bet. But I don't mean just that. So, what do you say? Once you finish your shift, of course. I'm taking you out to the Twinlight. Do you know it?"

"No, I cannot say that I know of such a place."

"I work for the big boss there," Jackie said while nodding, although Otis hadn't asked anything else. "So, getting in is no problem at all." He flattened the air with one palm to make a point.

A night of fun and dances? Otis had never had such a thing before, but it sounded exciting, and he had always wanted to try it, at least once. However, was what Jackie proposing an invitation to a date?

He sighed. "I cannot go on dates."

"Hey, who said anything about a date? It's just friends having fun," Jackie said.

Oh, so it wasn't a date. Otis felt relieved. "If it's about fun between friends, can Missy come, too?"

Jackie seemed to ponder for a bit, his eyes blinking a few times. "Yeah, sure, why not? Although, you know, it's that kind of place. She might get hit on by some sisters."

Otis puzzled over what Jackie was saying. Why would Missy be courted by some nuns? And then, slowly, he remembered some of the things he had read on the internet. "I will ask her if she'd be bothered by that. But first, please let me know what you would like tonight."

Jackie offered him another big smile and began ordering.

***

Hudson took in the big sign over the large doors. It all looked so legit, right? He had seen enough in his life to know that it wasn't enough to prove Watkins and his business as being clean as a mountain spring. The young people waiting in line were dressed in hip clothes and the sounds of laughter and carefree banter filled the evening air. Definitely, this crowd didn't appear to be the kind to attend extreme porn shows. He moved along the red rope until reaching one of the bouncers keeping the crowd at bay at the entrance. "Vegas, for Mr. Watkins," he said.

It looked like the bouncer didn't need to check his name on a list and let him in right away. There was no servility in how he did that, which meant that Watkins hadn't advertised him as some big shot visiting. If anything, the bouncer appeared to scan him head to toe as if he wanted to make sure he'd be able to identify Hudson in a lineup. Okay, that was fair. To these people, shady or not, he was an unknown quantity at the moment. That meant that the moment for weighing and measuring was upon him.

The somewhat gaudy neon lights from outside didn't do justice to the interior. The inside lights, switching gently between sexy crimson and aquamarine blue, enveloped everything in a soft blanket. There was a dance floor in the middle, redolent of late seventies discos, surrounded by tables and what looked like plush sofas. As expected, a pair of stairs, opposite facing, led to a higher floor where more tables and sofas could be seen at a glance. That was where the big guys usually sat, from what Hudson knew of night clubs.

The few patrons already inside were migrating between tables and the dance floor, and that provided no justice for the people waiting outside. But it was, again, something natural for that kind of place. Until a certain hour, when the real fun began, people had to be made to wait so that they didn't notice the expensive price tag on the drinks or the simple fact that they could dance with their friends anywhere else.

He noticed Watkins at one of the tables on the upper floor right away. The man was dressed in a dark suit and had one arm resting on the frosted glass bannister that separated the table area from the open space below. Hudson would bet that the man was waiting for him, hence his very insistent invitation from earlier.

He hopped the stairs two by two, and winced at the top, as if he had strained himself too much. Watkins turned and took him in with a thin smile on his face. "Mr. Vegas. You found your way."

"Your club is one of the hippest at the moment. It wasn't hard," Hudson offered. "I'm eager to see what kind of entertainment is available. However, I must say that I'm a bit surprised. I was expecting young men in leather, ready to ignite the senses."

Watkins laughed, but the amusement didn't reach his cold eyes. The soft lights of the club, along with the music thumping through the walls, like the beating of a heart, appeared to not touch the man. In that environment, he seemed alien to his surroundings, a preamble to a horror movie, a foreshadowing of dark things to come.

"We offer special entertainment to special guests." Watkins didn't invite him to sit. Instead, he gestured at him to follow as he got up from his seat.

Hudson threw another cursory look around and walked behind his host. As he suspected. The soft-lit nightclub for the hip generation served as nothing but a front for something a lot less legit. At least, the signs pointed in that direction so far.

Soon, they were walking down a corridor painted in red appointed with a long plush carpet in the same color. The music from the club was slowly fading; even the air appeared to change, a bit cooler. Hudson shrugged his shoulders for a moment.

"You might be willing to change your mind about your little protégé," Watkins commented.

"What protégé?" Hudson asked, feeling a cold snake coiling in his gut. He absurdly thought of Otis and his beautiful eye. "You mean, Jasper?"

"Yes. The boy is quite a natural," Watkins said. "And he's the main dish tonight. Ah, one more thing." He turned just as they were about to enter a door with a keypad to the right. "You won't mind a little frisking before entering, right?"

"No, of course not," Hudson replied. He looked away as Watkins punched in a code. He had other means to get through that lock if need be.

A bouncer stepped outside on cue and patted him down without a word. Hudson held his arms up, allowing the man to feel his body for any concealed weapons. When the bouncer inspected his left calf, he held in a breath although he knew the very thin blade he had wrapped around it was impossible to detect unless someone intended to undress him completely, and not even then quickly enough.

The man gave him a short nod and turned toward Watkins to do the same. Then, he stepped away and put his hand on the door knob. As soon as the door opened in front of him, a different kind of music hit Hudson's eardrums, a mix of punk rock with modern elements, sounds made by a machine, not an instrument. The interior design of the room also appeared industrial in inspiration from which it must have been taken. The scene in the middle had metallic structures in the corner, seemingly much needed for sustaining the ceiling from which different devices hung.

They weren't in use at the moment. Jasper, who Hudson immediately recognized by his pale skin since his face was turned away from the door, was wearing nothing but a black harness, and a buff man in his late twenties was holding him by it while thrusting into him with what seemed like erotic abandonment.

"Real sex," he commented, while Watkins guided him toward one of the tables.

Hudson had to blink to adjust his eyes to the darkness engulfing the entire space around the scene. In contrast, the place where Jasper and his partner were putting on their performance was so harshly lit that it made it all look like a strange hospital room mixed with the elements of a BDSM dungeon by a weird interior decorator.

As he looked around, he could tell there were other customers already at their tables, protected by the darkness. He couldn't stare openly, because Watkins was surely watching his every move and would quickly assume the worst of him. He pretended to focus on the sex scene in front of him, leaning forward and pursing his lips, as if he were a professional plumber examining the work of an amateur. "I had no idea he would be up to something like this," he said.

"He told us about you. The man without a cock," Watkins said, without commenting on his remark at all.

Hudson turned his head toward his host abruptly, mimicking surprise. "That's not very nice of him." He couldn't see Watkins' face, but he didn't need to while his other senses were on high alert.

Watkins laughed. "Don't worry. I never trust the word of a whore. Especially when it's not what I'm looking for when I'm interested in a man." He paused for effect. "What I'm interested is whether or not he has a good pair on him. So, my question for you this evening, Mr. Vegas, would be this: do you have big balls?"

"Don't tell me you want me to show them to you," Hudson replied. "I only undress others for a living, not myself."

"Don't take it so literally, Mr. Vegas. For now, let's enjoy the show. We'll talk about things later."

Hudson leaned back into his seat, pretending he was satisfied with that enigmatic reply. The buff young man pulled back, apparently finished with Jasper. Cheers and whistles erupted from the audience. All in good fun, it seemed. Hudson frowned as he watched Jasper, who seemed to be breathing hard after his earlier exertions. His skin was covered by a sheen of perspiration, and even his hair was wet. What he noticed as he moved his eyes downward made Hudson frown even more. "No condoms in the house?" he asked directly after a short, thought-out, grunt of disbelief.

"We test our models regularly," Watkins offered affably. "Now watch, Mr. Vegas, how real money is made."

A muscular man dressed in nothing but a skimpy jock strap jumped into the scene and grabbed a mike hanging from the ceiling. He played at the impersonation of a commentator at a sporting event as he brought the mike close to his lips. "A round of applause for our young novice, gentlemen," he called out. "Now, who wants to see him get fucked by an even bigger cock? Place your bets, gents, place your bets."

Hudson set his jaw hard but angled his head toward his host. "That's quite an interesting concept. How far does it go?"

He didn't need to see Watkins's face in the dark. He could bet the scumbag was grinning. "As far as our dear customers still have money in their pockets. We don't do credit cards."

No wonder there. Was Watkins showing him something illicit? He had either done a background check on Hudson and bought into the fake persona, or he intended to intimidate him or worse by the end of the performance.

He could wait. Not an easy thing to do while watching Jasper getting straddled by another muscular man and hear him gasp and moan, not entirely sure that it was pleasure he was seeing and hearing. In the meantime, his brain was working in overdrive as he took in everything there was to glean from his surroundings.

***

"Wow, this place is it," Missy commented as she took in the interior of the club, shaking her big mane of red to and fro. "But you know, Jackie, I hate you. You should have let us go home and change before coming here. I'm in my street clothes, you know?"

Jackie laughed as he took both Missy and Otis by the shoulders. "Otis told me you're not into carpet munching. And the guys here won't have eyes for you. So why does it matter what you're wearing? By the way, girl, you're fine as frog's hair."

"Eww, shut up," Missy protested. "Is that how you gay dudes compliment a woman?"

"Frogs don't have hair," Otis contributed to the conversation in his own way.

"Hey, that's an expression I learned from my mum," Jackie protested. "And it is a compliment, so you two stop splitting hairs."

"A frog's hairs?" Otis inquired politely, although he knew for a fact that frogs really didn't have any hair whatsoever.

Jackie squeezed his shoulder. "You're so funny, Otis, I swear. I've never met anyone like you. Now, you two go up to the bar, while I'm doing the rounds for a moment. Oh, and tell the man it's all on my tab. Go crazy."

Otis followed Missy dutifully to the bar that looked so pretty with all those beautiful bottles lining the wall behind a tall man mixing a drink in a tall glass that he felt rightfully intimidated. The barman was impressive, not only in height, but in how muscular his upper body was. He had a green Mohawk and studs in both ears. All in all, he looked like someone from a movie set.

Otis watched Missy as she hiked herself up on a chair and did the same. When Missy placed her hands on the bar, crossing them slightly, he mimicked the move to the letter.

"Twins?" the barman asked as he finally turned his eyes on them. He appeared to stare at Otis more.

He was in a new place, so he had covered his eye so that no one felt offended by it. Not everyone was like Hudson, who thought he was beautiful regardless of his asymmetric eyes, or Mr. Smith, who cared about him not losing his eyesight.

Missy scoffed. "Thanks for the thought, but unfortunately, I didn't share a womb with this gorgeous boy right here." For reasons Otis couldn't figure out, she nudged him in the ribs. Ah, she probably was making him pay attention to the proper etiquette.

Since the barman hadn't talked to him directly, he opted for the tried and tested. "Good evening, sir. May we have a glass?"

The barman smirked and put down the drink he had been mixing. It appeared that it was early and not many customers were crowding the bar at the moment. "Hi, gorgeous boy," he drawled while placing his elbows on the bar and leaning forward. From up close, Otis noticed that he was wearing contacts, a mesmerizing type that reflected the lights of the club in kaleidoscopic patterns. "Call me Utah. Not `sir'."

"Utah, like the state? Is that where you're from?" Otis asked, surprised by such an unusual name.

"No. It's just what I was born again as," Utah said and winked at him. "Your glass, gorgeous, what should it contain?"

It was normal for someone in the customer service business to talk like that to their patrons. It was conducive to good tips, Missy had assured him, so Otis made a point to notice when the regulars at their restaurant were wearing new clothes or had their hair done, especially the ladies.

Utah's question, however, left him a bit dumbfounded. He turned toward Missy, needing help. "What should we have?"

"I don't know about you," Missy said and slammed her small hand on the bar, "but I'm in the mood for a dirty Manhattan. Oh, and put it on Jackie's tab. We're with him," she added and grinned at the bartender.

Utah rolled his eyes. "That guy, I swear." He shook his head. "And you, sweetheart?" he asked, turning toward Otis. "What would you like?" Then, in a low whisper. "The sky's the limit. Order the most expensive stuff. I love watching Jackie sweat."

Otis had absolutely no clue why Jackie would sweat over his choice of beverage, but he felt it would be impolite to ask for something expensive only because there was someone else paying. He communicated his point of view right away. "What is the least expensive?"

Utah made an incredulous face. "That would be water. It's free."

Otis nodded enthusiastically. "Then I will have a glass of water."

Utah stared at him in disbelief. Then, he turned his head toward Missy. "Is he for real or just pulling my leg?"

"He's the real deal," Missy confirmed. "Salt of the earth, our boy. He wouldn't take a dime he didn't earn."

"Wow," Utah said and looked at Otis again. "And people say miracles don't happen anymore. What's your name, sugar?"

"Otis."

"Cool beans. You know what, Otis? I'll bring you a Cosmo. And it's on me, not Jackie."

"But--" Otis started to argue, but Utah wagged a finger at him in warning.

It looked like he couldn't say `no' to that. He very rarely drank alcohol. It was only one drink, though. He wouldn't get drunk or anything.

***

"I believe you've seen enough of the show to understand what kind of entertainment we're selling here," Watkins offered in a confident voice and touched Hudson's forearm. "Now, I will refer you to one of our employees so that he can show you what kind of work we have in mind for you."

Hudson didn't like being placed in the care of a subordinate, but, at the same time, that was an opportunity. If he happened upon a blabbermouth, it was all for the better, unless, of course, Watkins had in mind that taciturn bouncer who had frisked him earlier.

They were back in the corridor now, although Hudson had a hard time stomaching the fact that he was leaving Jasper there, paying a lot more for what he was earning than he should. Only for the time being, he promised himself. He needed to keep close to the place now more than ever, while still keeping an ear to the ground, in case he was on the wrong track. There were many things to tackle, but he had always been good at keeping a cool head while multitasking.

***

They were now in an anteroom that held a secretarial desk, a vertical file cabinet with two drawers, and huge potted plants in the corners. Watkins walked over to the cabinet and pulled out something. He threw the folder on the desk and reached for a pen inside his suit. "Before we proceed any farther, Mr. Vegas, I need you to sign an NDA."

"Sure," Hudson said with a shrug.

"Sign it with your real name," Watkins reminded him. "As fortuitous as Vegas sounds as a name in this business, I don't assume that's what it says on your driver's license."

"You're right, and of course, I'll use my real name." John Adam was about to sign an NDA with the devil, or at least one of his acolytes. Just a normal day at the office. His fake ID was ironclad.

"And now," Watkins said as he put his pen back and closed the folder after Hudson signed on the dotted line, "let me introduce you to your role in our lucrative business. You'll be our photographer, since we need to promote our business, as they say, in a more artistic fashion. These are the times we live in," he added with a shrug.

No one had asked him if he wanted said role, and Watkins had behaved as if it were a done deal. He didn't mind; the idea was for him to turn into a dutiful minion so that he could ascend through the ranks. It was also easier to be in touch with gossip on dark matters if he was closer to that world, in case Watkins was just a shady live porn peddler and not much else. Somehow, he doubted it. Fresh businesses usually looked forward to expand, and that meant hiring every piece of shit willing to get their hands dirty.

As if on cue, as soon as Watkins finished talking there was a loud knock on the same door through which they had walked just earlier. "Come in," Watkins called out.

Hudson turned to see a young man in his twenties, wearing a black suit and a knowing smirk on his face. He was attractive in a boyish way, and maybe his thug career, which appeared to be in store for him, was only in its freshest years.

"Did you want me, boss?" the youngster asked while eyeing Hudson shamelessly.

Hudson had seen that look plenty of times. So, Watkins hired guys with the same inclinations as the clientele. Was that good for business? That was one point to ponder over.

"Jackie, this is Mr. Vegas," Watkins said shortly. "He's here to take pictures of our highest sellers. You'll take him to the red room."

Jackie seemed really interested in the new Mr. Vegas's addition to the family. He took Hudson's hand, although he hadn't offered it, and shook it vigorously. "We have the best models here, Mr. Vegas," he said. "Come on, I'll show you everything."

Hudson shrugged and followed.

"We'll discuss your remuneration after we see the first sets of pictures," Watkins told him on his way out.

"No problem," Hudson said airily and followed Jackie into the hallway.

"You don't have to worry about that," Jackie talked quickly and gesticulated. "The pay here is absolutely awesome." He kissed his fingers with a loud smack. "And, you know, the boys are also top notch. I've had a few of them, and damn, they're worth every penny they earn here, if you know what I mean."

Obviously, Jackie thought he was made of the same stuff as the rest, and it didn't matter to him that Hudson wasn't replying to his chatter with the same enthusiasm. "Are there many boys here?" he asked.

"Around twenty, give or take. But they come and go, you know?" Jackie offered.

"Really? Where do they go?"

Jackie shrugged. "As they say in other businesses of this kind, they graduate."

Gut instinct. They didn't call it that for nothing, because Hudson felt the snake in his abdomen coiling tighter. "What does that mean?"

"You know. They take a bunch of money and go and spend it on vacations and shit. It's not like they can work here forever."

They liked them young... was that what Jackie was trying to tell him? Hudson painted his face with a leering smile and leaned toward his companion. "Do you mean, they're, you know, young?"

Jackie stared at him, and Hudson wondered if he hadn't overstepped and taken the young man for a fool too quickly. "Eighteen is the gold standard now," he explained. "Hey, you don't have to worry, man. What we do here, it's all above board. I know, because I did that kind of work for a while. Then, they promoted me," he said with pride and straightened his back.

"Do you mean, that kind of work?" Hudson gestured vaguely.

"Yeah, I stripped, I sucked, I fucked," Jackie continued to brag. "But I was already twenty-four when I got here. Not young and pretty enough, not big enough to be one of the bulls. Don't feel bad for me, man. I get to fuck the most gorgeous guys in the house. Now, let's put you to work, `cause the boys are waiting for you." Hudson nodded as Jackie held a door open for him. "You don't mind if I leave you to your thing, right?" he added. "I'll come back in half an hour."

"No, not at all." That was actually for the better, Hudson thought before stepping inside.

TBC

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