Raw Recruits Page 4

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Pick-up Point

  Jimmy’s Bar, on the outskirts of Kingston, is known to many of the island’s inhabitants, though very few ever venture there. Among the locals Jimmy’s has a reputation as sour as an unripe lime. The bar also has an international reputation—that is if you belong to that rare breed of men scattered across the globe—adventurers and mercenaries. Even among the underworld of Jamaica the bar is rarely mentioned and never appears in any tourist guide. Indeed, the casual tourist or the merely curious who has listened to rumors about the place and manages to find it are politely but firmly declined entry. The only way to gain entrance is by prearrangement with the man himself.

  Jimmy prides himself on his reputation and those rumors, for they are nearly all true. The bar’s main purpose is to cater for men’s taste in pleasure, but not just any men. Jimmy’s admits only the military, campaign veterans, and especially arms for hire. And most particularly for men who take enjoyment in the domination of other men … or of being dominated by another man worthy of their submission to his desires. Most of Jimmy’s regulars don’t know the meaning of the word fear. Their work and their pleasure derives from long hard training of their physical abilities and the fine honing of their natural animal instincts. Jimmy has always been aware of this and that, while most of them would fuck the ass off a woman if the need took them, for the most part they seek the company of men like themselves, for only another man can offer a challenge to their potent maleness.

  The entry to Jimmy’s is sandwiched between a rundown real estate agency and a low-class brothel, both of which, not surprisingly, are owned by Jimmy. The alley outside his door is unpaved and littered with empty bottles, beer cans, and the trash from overturned bins. By night the alley is one of many in the neighborhood of the attractively but inaccurately named Tivoli Gardens that becomes the haunt of winos, and offers the darkness craved by those seeking casual sex. At one end the alley opens onto a busy back street while the other gives access, should anyone have the courage at night, to the maze that is one of Kingston’s more notorious slums.

  Luke and Harry were met at Norman Manley airport by a wiry taciturn Jamaican, who drove them at breakneck speed in an old peeling Cadillac across the causeway, through the Seven Mile district, to a restaurant in Kingston’s downtown. He waited for them while they ate, drank, and for Harry to change into a pair of tight-fitting running shorts (“Too hot for those long things”). Then it was only a short drive from the better part of town to an area of low-rise shanty houses. Now the car pulled up at the dimly lit entrance to the alley. The driver had given them only the vaguest directions as to where in the alley they would find Jimmy’s. As the two made to get out, he reached over the cracked leather bench seat and held out two small cards.

  “Give it de guy on de door,” he said in a singsong voice.

  They were hardly out of the vehicle when the driver sped off back toward the city.

  Luke peered at the cards and tried to decipher the inscription in the poor light. It bore a single emblem which looked like a stylized phallus and balls impaled up its length by a long slim dagger. He frowned for a second, held it out for Harry. His friend shrugged.

  “Looks painful,” he observed.

  They set off down the brooding passage. The barely sufficient lighting from the street behind quickly dimmed as they picked their way carefully through the litter. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust at the odor of stale fish, rotting trash, fouled drains, and sewer sludge mingled with those of the slum beyond. “Shit!” he cursed, “the stink beats even Gowanus Canal in mid-summer.”

  “The goddammed driver might have told us how far down this place is supposed to be.”

  The two friends had gone about fifty yards down the dark gulch when they were briefly startled by two shadows that writhed in the greater dark of a recessed doorway ahead. While there was insufficient light to see the gender of the two figures, it was obvious from the outlines that one was vigorously blowing the other.

  “Don’t stare,” Harry hissed. “We don’t want any trouble.”

  “And there was me thinking of joining in,” Luke replied in a low whisper.

  The standing shadow thrust an urgent groin backward and forward rapidly and the sounds of a wet cock fucking a saliva-filled mouth grew louder. There was a groan from the man and they saw him reach down and violently pull the head in front of him into his crotch. Gagging sounds followed as the two figures merged into one vibrating form.

  Luke and Harry grinned at each other in the darkness and Luke instinctively rubbed his groin, turned on by the hot, secret sex. The diversion lightened both their moods and took their minds off whatever awaited them at Jimmy’s.

  “Finally!” Luke whispered, as though to speak out loud might bring down some nameless horror on them. “This surely must be it.”

  The only features that distinguished the bar door from those nearby was a small lighted bellpush with the legend JIMMY’S scrawled on a piece of card pinned beneath it. The scratchy sounds of reggae played on a well-worn hi-fi came from the brothel next door. “Not much into iPods around here,” Luke muttered. He dumped his heavy kitbag and felt in his pocket for the pass cards the driver had given him and handed one to Harry, who stuck it between his teeth.

  “You don’t know where that’s been.”

  Harry shrugged. “I’m immune to foreign pathogens.”

  As Luke went to press the bell there came a muffled cry farther down the alley.

  “Another load of cum finding its mark,” intoned Harry. The cry came again.

  Luke thought he heard the word “bastards” and the sound of a trash can being knocked over.

  “Whoever it is don’t seem to be enjoying it too much.”

  Luke turned on his heel. “Let’s go take a look-see.”

  “I thought we didn’t want any trouble … oh shit,” Harry trailed off, as he followed in Luke’s footsteps.

  * * *

  Hugging their kit, the two set off at a trot down the alley. The noises came from around a bend toward the slum. As they reached the corner they slowed down, not wishing to spoil harmless fun if that’s what it was. The decision was not made any easier as they rounded the corner cautiously. In the dim light from a curtained window they saw three figures a few yards away.

  A tall powerfully-built Jamaican man, skin glinting with sweat, was just kicking off his canvas pants to leave him completely naked. Luke counted himself something of an expert in judging size, and this guy’s massive cock must have been, at least ten or eleven inches long. It stood out clearly outlined against a naked white figure bent double in front of him. For several seconds, Luke wasn’t sure what they were looking at until he realized that the white guy had his head trapped between the legs of another naked Jamaican. With one hand he held the white guy’s hands behind his back while with the other jerked himself as he watched his partner prepare to skewer the ass in front of him with his extended cock. The taller of the two spat heavily into both hands, greased up his cock well. Then he grabbed the pale thighs before him and slammed it home. His partner jacked himself violently.

  “Oh Christ, no, not that, bastards,” yelled the white guy as his ass was violated by the black weapon. Even in his anguish, his accent gave him away to Luke and Harry as a fellow American; young sounding at that.

  “No, no, aarrgh!”

  The huge black cock went in to the very limit and the force of the attack shook the boy’s entire frame.

  The boy’s apparent yelps of pain and fear galvanized Luke and Harry into action.

  “Get them!” yelled Luke, discarding his kitbag and carry-on.

  As soon as he saw two powerfully built men charging down the alley, the white guy’s captor stopped masturbating. He released his grip on the neck between his thighs, grabbed his pants lying nearby, and ran off into the darkness down the narrow passageway.

  Suddenly free to help himself, the white guy—who turned out, as Luke couldn’t help
noticing, to be a well-built youth of about nineteen or twenty—struggled upright. But the Jamaican kept a tight grip around his waist, his cock still deep inside. He hoisted his impaled captive off his feet and made to swing around to face the rescuers, using the young body as a shield.

  He was too late. At that moment Luke reached within striking distance. He aimed for the only vulnerable part of the man’s body still visible. With a leap into the air, he delivered a kick at the exposed kidney. The blow found its mark. The black guy grunted with pain and dropped his captive. He staggered and fell to his knees, clutching his side. His sticky dick bobbed horizontally from its sudden ejection.

  Harry kicked him onto his back, placed a booted foot on the exposed neck, and pressed down viciously.

  Luke administered the same treatment to the man’s exposed genitals. As he felt the boot in his groin the Jamaican ceased his groans and whispered hoarsely. “No man, no, ah was just havin a bit of fun.”

  “That’s okay,” Luke replied equably. “So are we. But this guy here didn’t sound like he welcomed your sense of humor.”

  “Hey man, how the fuck was I know the young hunk didn’t like a bit of cock. He was goin to Jimmy’s an everybody that goes there likes a bit of fun.”

  Luke saw that some of the man’s spirit was returning, so he ground his boot into his balls harder and said, “Well this one clearly don’t like your kind of fun, so fuck off before I open your ass up with my boot.”

  “Honky motherfucker,” the Jamaican hissed, “I’ll get more than your fuckin ass for this.”

  Luke gave him a tight-lipped grin and stepped back a pace. The big Jamaican pushed himself up off the ground onto one knee. Luke’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched the thoughts flickering behind the man’s eyes. For a moment it hung in the balance. Then, accepting with a grimace of bad grace that the odds were stacked against him, the Jamaican reached for his pants and climbed to his feet. The movement caused him obvious pain. He stumbled off down the alley, clutching his clothes protectively to his front. They watched him vanish in the gloom, struggling to get his legs into the trousers as he went.

  Luke and Harry waited until he was out of sight and then turned to the young guy propped against the wall. Luke thought he could see the sheen of tear streaks on his cheeks.

  “I sure am grateful to you fellas. That bastard had his … you know, up me. Can you fucking believe that!”

  The boy winced at the memory and bowed his head, the way he held himself making clear his embarrassment. Luke’s gaze wandered over the slumped body and he liked what he saw. A stevedore or scaffolder maybe, he thought. For a moment he felt a pang of guilt. Here he was, rescuer extraordinary, and already eyeing the boy up for a potential good hump. He glanced at his friend and saw that Harry was doing pretty much the same thing. Then his eyes settled on the boy’s cock and he felt a jolt of surprise.

  “Hey man, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, anything. I owe you.”

  “You never been fucked by a guy before, is that what’s bothering you?”

  The boy’s face tightened.“No, I mean I haven’t,” he whispered.

  “How’s it then that you’re a bit jacked up there?” Luke smiled as he nodded his head at the other’s midriff, wanting to appear as friendly as possible in the hopes that the guy would not be even more discomfited to tell them what his problem with being fucked really was.

  The boy flicked alarmed eyes down, saw his semi-erect dick, and flushed with shame at his condition.

  “What! Oh Christ. Hey man it’s nothing! Don’t you believe me? It’s probably shock or something.”

  “Or something!” Luke laughed lightly. He offered his hand. “It’s okay, we’re friends.”

  The guy hesitated, then shrugged and took the outstretched hand. “My name’s Brad,” he informed his new friends.

  “I’m Luke. This here’s Harry, an old buddy of mine from Afghanistan days.”

  They waited while Brad hurriedly dressed, and then Harry asked, “Were you really on your way to Jimmy’s?”

  “Yeah, but I never heard of the place before. I was s’posed to meet some dude there before midnight.”

  A thought struck Luke and he pulled out the pass card.

  “You wouldn’t by any chance have one of these?”

  “Er, yes.”

  Harry said, “Hey man, you must be joining the same outfit as us.”

  “How did you get recruited?” Luke asked.

  “I saw this ad in the Post and Courier. I lost my job in the port at Charleston a while back and was clean broke. I would’ve done almost anything for cash. I answered the ad and met these two guys at a private gym club. We had a … er … a talk, and I got the job. That was a week ago.”

  “You just … talked!” Luke was incredulous. “That all?”

  Brad reached out to scoop up his backpack and made like he was looking for something in its depths. “Well, yeah, man, what else shoulda happened?”

  Harry made a sound like a snort. “What did these two guys that you had a talk with look like?”

  Brad’s description left Luke in no doubt as to the identity of the interviewers. He arched his left eyebrow slightly as he swapped looks with Harry. Catching the unspoken exchange, Brad’s eyes opened wider in understanding. He looked from one to the other and blushed again in discomfort.

  It was easy to see that Brad didn’t want to admit his experience. Maybe he discovered he likes to make it with guys, Luke thought—hoped? He found himself suddenly feeling protective toward the young man, knowing at the same time that he wanted a chance to explore his smooth, hunky body. Later. “Guess it’s time we actually got inside Jimmy’s.” He grabbed his kit, swung it over his shoulder, and hefted his carry-on bag. “C’mon, guys, let’s go.”

  As they strolled back toward the bar, Luke looked around at Brad and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, buddy, maybe we’ll get a chance to talk about things later. You obviously passed the interview, even though I guess you’ve no military experience?”

  Brad shrugged Luke’s hand off. “No, I haven’t. And yeah because I’m a lot tougher than I look.” He gave Luke a defiant glare.

  “Okay. Let’s see what’s on the other side of this fucking mystery door.”

  He pressed the bell push.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jamaica Jimmy’s

  After a few moments a small panel set at eye level slid open and Luke passed their three cards through. A pair of eyes surveyed them briefly and then a bolt was drawn back and the door opened. Luke led the way in. It wasn’t until he was well past the threshold that he saw a man standing in the shadows, watching them from under eyes hooded by massive brows. The guy who had examined the cards, he presumed. He was a giant. His naked ebony chest shone with a gleam in the light of a single ceiling lamp farther down the passage. He reminded Luke of the Ethiopian slaves at the ancient courts of the Middle East—the ones that guarded the harem. He knew about them from his teenage reading—probably stuff he shouldn’t have gotten his hands on…

  He grinned tentatively at the big guy. “Howdy.”

  Silence. The man ignored him, shut the door behind them, and moved off down the hallway in a graceful, almost balletic glide. The trio dutifully followed his powerful back and were shown into a comfortably fitted office. Behind a large mahogany desk sat the sergeant.

  How did he get here so fast? When Luke had overcome his surprise at seeing him ensconced there, his first thought was to wonder if Jan was here as well. His ass was still sore from the double fuck the night before, as well as—he had to admit—aching for more.

  The sergeant almost smiled, one of those tight white-lipped affairs he seemed to specialize in. Ignoring the other two, he addressed Luke. “I trust you enjoyed the care and attention lavished on you by the flight attendant.”

  “How do you know about that?” Luke wondered if there were any more surprises.

  The sergeant’s smile w
idened by an eighth of an inch. “He works for us occasionally, keeping the recruits’ spirits up on the flight out here. I understand Harry missed out there.”

  “Yeah, but I got something else to chow down on.”

  The sergeant focused his steely gaze on Brad. Luke saw lust in the man’s tight-lipped smile, like an alligator eyeing dinner. “Ah, Brad. Of course, you came on a different flight. I hope you have remembered how to take orders.”

  Brad flushed. “Yes, sir,” he muttered, bowing his head.

  “Let’s hear that again … louder, boy!”

  Brad jerked to attention and stared straight ahead. “Yes. Sir!”

  The sergeant’s smile faded as he regarded the boy. His gaze dropped from Brad’s face to settle on the front of his jeans.

  “Good. All of you will stay here tonight. Rooms are prepared. Nothing fancy but enough for raw grunts. We leave for the island in the morning. In the meantime your fellow recruits are in the bar enjoying themselves, I suggest you do the same … while you can.”

  They turned to leave, but he called Brad back and Luke heard him say. “I may want to talk to you again later.”

  “Sir,” Brad answered unhappily.

  Not if I have anything to do with it. Luke instinctively placed a protective arm around the boy’s shoulder as Brad rejoined them, and pushed him in front of them, as though to hide him from the sergeant. The ebony giant led them silently out into the passageway, off into a second hallway, and to a plastic-strip-curtained doorway through which they could hear music and loud drunken voices.

  * * *

  They pushed through the curtain into the bar.

  Luke felt a surge of lust.

  Harry let out a long, low whistle of admiration.

  Brad gave a sharp intake of breath.

  Senses were assaulted. The first impression was one of overpowering maleness, even before they could make out individuals in the low bar light. The temperature of the room was generated more by the hungry heat of male bodies close to each other than by the humid tropical night. The smell of cigarettes, dope, and crotch and armpit sweat filled the air. As his eyes grew accustomed after the bright light of the office Luke could see a couple of dozen guys in the pit-like bar, a few steps below the doorway. Most of the men were at least naked to the waist, and all of them boasted hard dynamic bodies. Their sinews and muscles, even in relaxation, exuded a potent virility.