Boys of Two Cities Page 4

  “I’m not on the main unit, worse luck, but we’re kept on our feet all day.”

  “What’s the movie?”

  “It’s an adaption from some science-fiction novel called—would you believe it—Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep.”

  Gil frowned. “Never heard of it. Doesn’t sound like a selling title.”

  Jeff gave a deep-throated chuckle, the one that had once made Gil’s spine tingle in Rome. “Oh, it’s been changed to Blade Runner. Stars that guy from Star Wars, Harrison Ford. Should be about a four-month shoot.”

  “Gee, that’s good. I’m pleased for you. I’d love to work on something like that.”

  Jeff gave the boy a quizzical look, detecting something in his tone. “What are you doing with yourself?”

  Gil hunched his shoulders. “Not much. A day or two here…”

  “So if it were available, would you take a job on this one?”

  The light in Gil’s eyes was answer enough. “Is there one?”

  “Could be.” Jeff drew his black eyebrows into a thoughtful frown. “The kid acting as our unit’s gofer has gone sick. Actually, he trashed his pick-up stupidly and will be in plaster for months. I’ll check it out tomorrow and see if I can get you on.”

  Gil put his vodka down on a ledge and threw his arms around Jeff’s hard chest. “That’d be just fabulous.” He buried his head against the denim shirt, breathing in Jeff’s warm male scent. Jeff looked down fondly at the flop of blond hair, then ruffled the familiar silky tresses with his free hand. Gil hugged him harder, to bitchy interest from others on the patio who saw a rugged, handsome outdoorsman picking up a cute youngster—or perhaps being hustled by the youth.

  Jeff remembered the time he had showered with Gil in the boy’s hotel room in Rome and the proximity now shot arousal through his body. He sensed the same yearning in Gil, hoped he wasn’t imagining it. “Hey,” he began softly, “do you have any wheels parked nearby?”

  Gil pulled his head back, but held on to Jeff. “No. I don’t have a car. I took the bus out.”

  “Mine’s half a block away. What say we split from here and go to my apartment over in Blair Hills. It’s not far from your home. I can drive you home… later.”

  Gil reburied his head in Jeff’s shirt, so he barely heard the whispered answer. “Yes, please.”

  Jeff had been the first man Gil had ever had sex with, if he didn’t count the Italian customs officer who took advantage at Rome’s Fiumicino airport. But he hadn’t consented to that, whereas Jeff had driven him frantic with erotic curiosity as they had each other in Gil’s shower. For the first time since leaving London, Gil felt a bit happy—it was the prospect of renewing his acquaintance with Jeff’s great body. There could be no doubt from the admiring glances Jeff kept giving him while steering through the traffic that he had every intention of making it so.

  The apartment had the look of a short-term rental: standard furnishings and no personal touches on the walls or on the tables.

  “Is your shower fixed?” Gil quipped with a sly smile as he took off his denim jacket.

  Jeff laughed easily. “It was never busted, but how else was I to get into yours?”

  “And here…?”

  “Oh, this one works just dandy.” And with that he put his arms around Gil, spun him so they hugged spoonlike. Gil could feel the powerful thrust of Jeff’s cock and balls against his bottom, and snuggled back contentedly. Jeff nibbled Gil’s earlobe and whispered, “Ah, that beautiful firm young ass.”

  Gil chuckled. “You know in England they put an ‘rr’ in there so it sounds longer and rumblier. ‘Aarrrse.’ It’s kinda sexy.”

  “Funny people, the Brits, except…” Jeff trailed off.

  “You were about to add, ‘except for Mike.’ It’s okay, Jeff. Right now I’m with you, and that’s all that matters.

  Gil felt Jeff’s hands rove down over his abdomen, linger at his belt, then press on down to cup his stiffening cock. Then Jeff started to unfasten the belt, slowly, sensuously, taking his time to open the top button of Gil’s gray Levi’s. Gil pressed his hands behind him to reach for Jeff’s belt. “No,” Jeff commanded gently. “Let me peel you out of your clothes first. You can strip me after, then we’ll try out the shower.”

  Once he had pulled the fly zipper down, Jeff turned his attention to Gil’s shirt, releasing each button with a fricative scrape of fingernail against the bare skin beneath. Gil arched his head back onto Jeff’s shoulder and shuddered with pleasure as the other’s adroit fingers stroked his nipples erect. Jeff slipped the shirt from Gil’s shoulders and forced it down between them to the floor, then resumed exploring the chest and ridged stomach muscles. Gil kicked off his sneakers, toe against heel, ready for the next stage.

  Jeff slid his hands down over the boy’s briefs, hesitating for a second to stroke the length of cock before easing the tight jeans down to Gil’s knees. He came around to face Gil, dipping to his knees to pull the jeans down for Gil to step out. Jeff’s lips parted in promise as he reached up to remove Gil’s briefs, releasing that beautiful uncut dick from its cotton prison to bob free. He licked his lips, but held back from doing anything yet.

  “Your turn,” he said, standing.

  Gil smiled, relishing the naughty feeling of his nakedness beside the fully clothed man. Not that that lasted long. Gil was rather more eager to get Jeff out of his gear. First he pulled his shirt from the waistband of his 501s, unbuttoned it, and pulled it over his shoulder blades and off his brawny arms. As Gil began to unfasten the belt with one hand, he leaned in to tongue Jeff’s protruding nipples and traced the other hand down the fine dark line of hair that formed a traffic direction signal from his navel to where it disappeared into a private place. The metal buttons ripped open easily, indicating well-worn use.

  Suddenly, Jeff didn’t wait any longer, and took over stripping down so he could press himself, naked, cock to cock, with this radiant vision before him. So close, Jeff could see the sadness in Gil’s beautiful gray irises, traced also in the translucency of the skin about his half-closed eyes.

  The bathroom had a generous walk-in shower with plenty of room for them both. Steam filled the mosaic-tiled area in seconds, enveloping them in its warmth. In a repeat of Rome, Jeff soaped Gil all over and then Gil did the same for Jeff. They grinned and laughed outright at the carnal joy of toying with each other’s dicks and asses; Gil particularly enjoyed lathering up Jeff’s big hairy balls, then rinsing him off, rubbing the suds along his ten hard inches and imagining how they would feel inside him again. But first he bent over and stretched his mouth over the meaty cock head, then knelt quickly so he could lick at the underside, sliding the tip of his tongue up the sharp valley dividing the purple lobes. So taut, so smooth.

  He ran his tongue and lips down along the ribbed shaft to Jeff’s balls, lipping one then the other, knowing that what he was doing was making the other quake with delight. Jeff planted his feet well apart, giving Gil access to the ridge of tight skin between scrotum and ass. He hunkered down lower still, turned his head up and flitted his probing tongue over the balls and the very edge of Jeff’s dark asshole. He forced the tip of his tongue into as sharp a point as he could manage and thrust up into the crack. Jeff’s powerful sphincter muscles gave and allowed Gil to push right inside. Straining to his uttermost, Gil thrust, retreated, and drove up again until he felt the shaking of Jeff’s trunk and thighs.

  “Oh, oh, you’re doing it again.” Jeff loosed a deep groan as Gil tongued him busily. “You’ll get me off too quickly like you nearly did in Rome.”

  Gil knelt back. He flipped streaming hair out of his eyes, which glinted with a happy wickedness at odds with the angelic smile playing on his lips. He flicked his eyebrows archly, and then slowly swiveled around to kneel doggy-style on the tiled floor. The water showered down on his back, bouncing in hundreds of flying droplets off his rounded buns, which were offered up to Jeff. Gil felt Jeff kneel down behind him and knock his knees farther apart, a
nd then Jeff rubbed his broad fingers up into the cleft to work Gil’s asshole, an otherworldly agitation in his most private place.

  Jeff pressed his meaty weapon up to the hole. Gil strained to peer back and up to watch Jeff’s face through the curtain of water as he got ready to penetrate him. Once, there had been pain, now Gil’s cry was of gratification. Still, Jeff was—as he was reminded of what a silly British TV commercial said, Mighty Meaty, Matey—and he gritted his teeth. But Jeff was gentle even in his gusto and suddenly it got easier. He was subsumed in the wonder of having another person, for whom he felt great affection, in his body.

  When Jeff was in almost to the hilt he grasped Gil’s flanks and began to fuck him for real. They slithered about on the flooded shower base as Jeff yanked back on Gil’s hips, driving the boy’s body hard onto the rigid shaft of his cock. Gil grunted with each powerful thrust as the wind was shaken from him and yet each time he willingly let himself be pulled back again onto Jeff’s cock.

  Then Jeff held him down and fucked him from the hips, urging himself in harder each time. Gil’s abdomen suddenly clenched with a sensational explosion as the big fat cock rubbed at his prostate. Electrical sparks hit every synapse in his nervous system and he sank into a joy he hadn’t felt since he was last with…but he wouldn’t go there. Not now.

  Jeff’s fuck pace grew faster, more furious, as he pulled himself out to Gil’s thrumming asshole and then slammed back into the boy’s hungry passage as hard as he could. Gil heard above his own moans Jeff’s breathing become loud gasps and then with a deep groan of ecstasy Jeff exploded, pumping his hot jizz deep inside. Gil cried out in delight as he felt the hot cum flowing out in a warming glow to mingle in the swirling water.

  As had happened that first time in Rome, Jeff pulled his cock out and flipped Gil over onto his back, pushing his knees up and sliding him along the floor to bring the lovely long cock straight to his waiting mouth. Gil saw Jeff’s long tongue go to work, probing inside his foreskin, then folding it down to get at the glans beneath. Gil writhed as Jeff’s warm lips closed down around his hard rod and gripped it tightly. Jeff worked his way back to the sensitive tip, diddling his tongue in Gil’s cum slot and then fell down around it again. He started going faster and harder in a completely expert fellatio.

  Gil’s world dissolved in a hazy dream of steam and spray drowning his eyes and amplifying his desire. His balls ached to release their weight of cum. Suddenly he could bear it no longer, and crying out louder than before, ejected a long streamer of jism. The first gush sprang from between Jeff’s lips and fell back onto Gil’s heaving stomach. The second jerk squirted over Jeff’s thirsty tongue and Gil saw its whiteness highlighted against the redness of Jeff’s mouth as it went down his throat. Then Jeff went down hard on him. He gripped the root of Gil’s cock with his mouth and let his clenching throat jack the throbbing cock head. Gil thought he would scream with pleasure as he voided the remainder of his release into Jeff.

  “So, now you’ve unloaded one way. How about the other?”

  Gil sipped appreciatively at the coffee Jeff had just made. It was good, strong, and black. Jeff sat down on the bench sofa next to him, sensing that the boy would open up more if were not directly observed.

  Over the next twenty minutes Gil told Jeff of his experiences in London; the good times, the better times, and the worst. Jeff let him talk without interruption, but once Gil finished he made one immediate observation. His bass voice sounded grave. “The way it ended, that doesn’t sound like Mike, not the one I knew.”

  “How well did you know him?”

  Jeff raised his palms. “Not for that long. We’d been thrown together for a few weeks before you arrived on the scene. The sound crew was British, so I’d never met him before, but he’s one of those guys who wears his life on his sleeve. No shit. He got on with everyone. What you see is what you get. At least, that’s how I saw him. It was only after a while we realized he was actually one of Rosen’s boy-crew. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that Rosen picked an English sound crew just to get him to Rome. Then something came up that brought Rosen back here and Mike was suddenly free for a bit. I won’t lie… I took the opportunity, but I guess you know that.”

  Gil inclined his head in acknowledgment, but he smiled. “Yup. So did your camera operator, Harry.”

  “Ah yes, Harry. Always one for a boyish smile and a tasty ass to eat.” Jeff turned serious. “You said you ran into Rosen at Pinewood. Do you think he might have had something to do with your bust up with Mike? The man never liked his boys running around with others and, let’s face it, he really held it against you when he found out about you and Mike.”

  Gil shrugged. “I don’t know.” He stared into Jeff’s eyes as though the answer lay there. “He never mentioned Rosen, or anything. Just that we’d run our course and I had to go.”

  “Hmm. Don’t underestimate Mr. Rosen. The man maybe a highly successful movie producer, but he’s a bad motherfucker. I’m sure glad I’m not on one of his crews this time around. There are persistent rumors circulating Hollywood that he’s got his hands in some very dirty business. That’s where he gets his financing half the time.” Jeff watched Gil’s jaws working as he digested this.

  “When you say ‘dirty,’ what kind of dirty?”

  “They say that he uses his private jet to carry stuff, the kind the Drug Enforcement Agency would not approve of. I don’t know how true that is but—”

  “Smoke and fire,” Gil finished.

  “I also heard that he’s been dealing with some very unpleasant people based in Miami. If he is mixed up in the Cocaine Cowboy Wars between the Cubans and the Colombians, he might get caught in the cross-fire. And Rosen’s a greedy fucker. If he puts a finger wrong there—and I bet he will eventually—they won’t be happy with him. I know he has contacts in London, too… but I expect Miami does as well. Anyway, you keep well outta his way if you can. The man’s an animal.”

  Gil suddenly stiffened in alarm. “But what about Mike? Rosen threatened us. What if he’s in danger?”

  Jeff clenched his jaw. “He’ll be all right, so long as he keeps out of Rosen’s business.” He breathed out heavily, looking with concern at Gil. “You still really care for him, huh?”

  To Jeff’s obvious embarrassment, Gil’s eyes watered, filled, and overflowed. He flung himself down, head in Jeff’s lap, sobbing uncontrollably. The dam had burst by talking to another who knew Mike. Jeff sat back, stroking the shaking blond scalp, and gave Gil time to recover. He spoke gently after a few minutes. “Why don’t you try calling? You know the number?”

  Gil shook his head vigorously, which was still buried in the crotch he had so recently been licking, ashamed to look up. His muffled voice choked. “I can’t. He said he didn’t want me any more. I can’t phone him now.”

  “I could—”

  “No!” Then Gil sat up, knuckling his damp eyes. He gave a definite shake to flick the hair from his brow. “No. Jeff, please don’t. I won’t give you the number anyway.”

  “I reckon you need something to get your mind off things. If you won’t give me Mike’s number, give me yours and I’ll call you after work tomorrow. Let you know if I can get you some solid work. As a wise man once said, ‘the sooner you fall behind, the more time you have to catch up.’ It’s time to catch up. You’re bright and you’re far too good looking to fall behind.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Life’s a Drag

  “Hello my lovelies. For those of you who have not had the pleasure, Mrs. Shufflewick’s the name.”

  The Black Cap in Camden Town boasted the best drag acts in all of London. The gay pub was, as usual, packed out, with most of the customers howling with laughter at the legendary Mrs. Gladys Shufflewick, a typical East End dame of indeterminate late age and a loose Vaudeville mouth. His real name was Rex Jameson.

  Mike was not one of those joining in with the hilarity. He leaned against the side wall just inside the entrance, well through his third pint of
beer, and wondering why he had thought going out on his own to a busy pub would cheer him up. His asshole was still sore from the drubbing Rosen had given it. Hopefully the bastard would leave him alone for a bit. The drink was fuzzing up his brain, and he needed a clear head tomorrow when he went to see this Mundy guy at Pinewood.

  A storm of merriment rocked the hot atmosphere.

  “This is known in the trade as ‘untouched pussy’… which is unobtainable in the West End at the moment.” Guffaws. “You are very lucky to see me tonight, in the flesh, as it is well known that I am weak-willed and easily led…” giggles “…thank God. Ooh, last night I was sitting up in bed at about half past seven—mending a puncture… yes, I was… I had a blow out—not a blow through—a blow out… that’s the last time I’ll buy any of those rubber goods.”

  Mike was acutely aware of the lack of Gil by his side. How he would have loved this campy London humor, probably missing half the references with his Californian mind-set, but joining in with the shrieking and snorting of the audience of gay men ranging from late-teens to locals who had probably been regulars when the site was open country and prey to highwaymen.

  “He suddenly, without a word of warning, whipped out…” laughter “…you might wait until I’m finished… he whipped out this packet of picture postcards what he had brought back from the Middle East and oh my, I have never seen anything so disgust—have you seen one?” More cracking up all around. “Oh my God, they made me toes curl… fifty-eight different ways to shake hands. How those people get themselves into those different positions I’ll never know.”

  Mike shifted his position to ease his feet, and was aware that he felt unsteady. Too much beer on an empty stomach. He staggered slightly and backed into someone who had just come through the street door.

  “Whoa there! Hey, Mike.”

  Mike gave the newcomer a bleary look, then smiled. “Hey, Steve. How’s it going?”