Randy lay back down. “How about you just stand there and inspire me.” In this position, he was looking right up my shorts. “I see London, I see France…” he began.
“Just lift,” I said. And he did, impressively, his body a perfect symphony of strength and symmetry.
And he was right-he didn’t need the spot at al.
I stood there for two more sets, and we made some smal talk. Randy continued to flirt outrageously, and I continued to remind myself that I didn’t come here to get laid. I needed to know what he knew about Al en’s death.
I was trying to figure out how to bring up Topic A when Randy sat up.
“Your turn.” He took two plates off each side. This I could handle.
I lay on the bench and grabbed the bar. Randy’s crotch loomed like heaven above me. His cotton-enclosed cock coiled menacingly.
It seemed to be growing.
I felt myself hardening in sympathetic response.
“Look at you down there,” Randy whispered huskily. “So fucking sweet and creamy. Such a smooth milkshake of a boy. I could slurp you right up.”
I put my hands on the bar to lift, but my blood seemed to be rushing elsewhere.
“I could rip those shorts right off with my teeth,”
Randy purred.
My eyes were riveted to his growing crotch, which seemed to be lowering.
Growing and lowering.
Then al of a sudden his half-hard cock slipped out of his underwear and flopped on my forehead.
“Hey!” I sat up suddenly.
This is when I learned A Very Important Lesson that should be part of every SAT study course: In an accident where a rapidly ascending big head impacts a slowly descending little head, the little head is going to get hurt.
Or, in simpler turns, when you head butt someone in the crotch, it’s gonna hurt.
“Shit!” Randy screamed. He grabbed his bal s and doubled over. “Holy fuck!”
I jumped off the bench and put my hand on his back. “Sorry, sorry, I got kind of startled.”
“Ow!” Randy hopped up and down a little before crouching again. “Fuck me, that hurts!”
“OK, OK,” I said, “I’m sorry.” I waited a few minutes until he seemed to be breathing normal y again.
“I feel terrible,” I said, flinging back my bangs and biting my lower lip. It’s one of my most seductive moves. “Let me buy you a protein shake and make it up to you.”
Randy nodded. “You got it, little man. And then we can talk about why you real y came here.”
“What do you mean?” I asked him.
“You didn’t come here just to work out, did you?
You think I aced Al en Harrington.”
Holy shit. “I do?”
“Wel, I figured as much when you saw me there that night,” Randy said.
“I did?”
“In front of his building.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, wel, sure, I saw you and al,” I lied again, “but, you know, I didn’t think, wel, did you?”
“Come on,” Randy said, extending his hand. “Let’s get that drink.”
Fol owing Randy to the gym’s cafe, I tried not to be distracted by two things: 1. his admission that he had been to Al en’s apartment on the night of his death, and 2. his perfect, muscular ass. Focus, Kevin, focus.
We ordered protein shakes (I hadn’t actual y done any working out, so I got the best-tasting and least healthy one), and sat in a booth.
Randy started. “So, do you real y think I kil ed Al en?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I took a long sip of my shake. Stal ed. But Randy just waited.
“Wel,” I said, “no, of course not.”
“But you’ve seen me pretty angered up, right?” He was referring to the night he almost beat a deaf guy to death on my behalf.
“Were you angry at Al en?”
“Maybe I should be charging you for this information.” Randy grinned. “You know my time is costly, right?”
I took a dol ar out of my pocket and slid it to him.
“Nice, try, creampuff. I was thinking more along a trade.” Randy’s foot, which he managed to slip out of his sneaker, landed in my lap. “Maybe take it out on your ass. You look real sexy in that little pair of underwear you’re wearing.” He slipped the dol ar into his bag.
Once a hustler, always a hustler, I thought. Not that I was throwing any stones.
“It’s not underwear,” I said, trying to ignore his toes scraping up and down my crotch. “They’re gym shorts.”
“Look like underwear to me.”
“My mother said the same thing.”
Randy’s foot began tapping against my bal s. I felt myself start to swel.
“Your mother?”
“It’s a long story. She’s kind of living with me now.”
This revelation was so startling that Randy stopped moving his foot.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish.”
“Poor little dude.” Randy looked genuinely sympathetic. “You got yourself a whole world of troubles, don’t you?”
I nodded.
“Wel, then, I guess I’l stop torturing you.” He smiled, evil y. “Unless you like to be tortured, little dude.” He started with the foot-tapping again. “A little teasing. You like that? You like to be teased, little dude? It feels like you do.” His voice was getting a little husky.
I was ful y hard now. I knew he knew it, too. Damn, he was good at this.
“You know how much I like you, Randy.” I decided a little flattery might help me get the subject back where I wanted it. “Damn, you’re like the hottest guy I’ve even been with. I know Al en thought so, too. He never stopped thanking me for referring you.”
That stopped the foot again. “Al en,” Randy said.
“That is some fucked up shit.”
When in doubt, plunge right in. “So, what were you doing there that night?” I asked.
“Al en and I had a date,” Randy said.
I remembered the Budweiser I’d seen in Al en’s refrigerator. It was for Randy! But he also had two wine glasses set out. So he must have been expecting someone else.
“How was it?” I asked.
“How was what?” Randy looked puzzled. Wel, he looked more puzzled. He always looked a little puzzled.
“The date.”
Randy started the whole foot-rubbing thing again.
“What are you, the cops?” He pressed against me.
“Is this your nightstick?”
I let out a smal moan.
Randy grinned.
“Come on, man,” I said.
“You want more, baby?” Randy purred. “I could eat you up real good. Let me take you home and lay you out like lunch.”
Randy was distracting me with his food fetishes again, but also with that damn foot and the sexy huskiness of his voice. What were we talking about again?
“Or I could just do you right here,” Randy continued. “Slip right under this table and pul down those little white briefs you’re wearing. Take you in my mouth. Would you like that, baby? Think anyone would notice? Think they’d watch? Bet that would make it even hotter.”
I was about to lose al conscious thought when I realized what Randy was doing.
I sat back, pul ing away from him.
“You’re hustling me,” I told him.
“Huh?” Randy looked
I looked at him angrily. “You’re playing me. Dirty talk and that sexy whisper and that tricky little foot of yours. I’m not one of your customers, Randy.”
Randy’s face crumpled like a little boy’s, “I’m just doing what guys like me do, Kevin. Don’t you like it?”
“Of course I like it. But I’m not here for a goddamn foot job. I came here as a friend.”
“Why?”
“Because Al en was my friend, too, Randy.
Something terrible happened to him and I just want to know what it was.”
“You real y cared about him,” Randy said.
I nodded.
Randy looked even sadder. “I did, too, Kevin. He wasn’t like the other guys. He would talk to me, you know. He always wanted to know how I was, if I was taking care of myself. He used to try to teach me stuff, about investing, shit like that. Told me I had to think about my future. He always wanted to help me, you know?”
I nodded again.
“But of course, I never took him up on it, right? Big stupid Randy. Al muscles and cock and no fucking brain. That’s what everyone thinks, right? Wel, you know what? They’re right. That’s me, always thinking about the next workout, the next trick, the next hit.”