Like Dust in the Wind
by Jack Lynch
Chapter 3
Slammer.
Bored. Apollo slumped naked in a chair, lazily tying a swizzle stick into knots. The dressing room, if you could call it that, was a small narrow room running along the backside of Slammer.
He'd been on the road for nearly a year since leaving Carey and the East coast behind. First, in Portland, where he'd been dispatched with three other guys to dance at a club long on customers and short on nude dancers. They'd slowly wound their way down the coast to California. San Francisco for more than three months, now in Los Angeles.
Just turned 17, a fact he carefully hid from the clubs where he danced, especially the first one. Barely 16 at the time, no pun intended, when he managed to get that first job dancing in the nude. Just 5'6," skinny, a boy like figure, he knew his fresh meat appearance would be popular. Mostly hairless, slim hips, boy butt.
Long, stringy, dirty blond hair, falling across his face. Narrow, almond shaped blue eyes. Thin face, pointy chin. Somehow, heredity had been generous, yielding an over-sized joint. His circumcised cock was nearly 7 inches, even when limp. Pale, thick, with a big head. Surrounded by a full set of balls.
He only did it for the money, of course. Had to. Homeless most of the time, his parents self-professed hippies. They mostly panhandled, his mother holding down a part time job as a bar maid in a titty joint. When times got really tough, he was expected to do his part. Sell his body. There was only so much he could take. After a drug infused beating from his father, he had enough. So, he split.
Apollo first encountered him as he sat on the ground in a boulevard median. His father, holding a cardboard sign, panhandling for money. Carey walked by, just staring. Apollo was annoyed and felt humiliated, to say the least.
A couple of days later, Apollo saw him again out of the corner of his eye. He was getting butt fucked for fifty bucks by some old creep down by a lake. Carey watched everything from behind some bushes.
Apollo got naked and jerked off with him a couple of days later at that same secluded spot. After they'd both cum, some deeply buried feeling inside made him snuggle his head into the crook of Carey's neck. A rarely felt pleasant moment.
Slammer was either the pinnacle or the bottom of the heap as far as male strip clubs go. Dancing was a minor attraction. Hardly anyone watched when it was Apollo's turn to get up on the small stage. Most of the time, the patrons were too busy fucking, sucking, and pissing on each other. If they wanted, guys could be just as naked as the dancers. A lot of them were.
Suck-a-torium, Waterworks Zone, Orgy Room, and Meat Up Booths. Indoor and outdoor slings. Thankfully, management prohibited its workers from engaging in actual sex. But, they couldn't be bothered bouncing customers for grabbing a dancer or an occasional finger sneaked up the butt. When Apollo wasn't performing, he was expected to deliver trays of watered down alcoholic drinks while he let the customers paw him.
"Aps, you're up! Get out there!" Gunther yelled sharply as he stuck his head in the door.
One of Slammer's managers and, if you could believe it, not even the slimiest of the bunch. Obese, grayish brown scruff to match his close cropped hair, beady eyes, unusually large lips, meaty hands. He'd recently been promoted from bouncer.
As soon as he sauntered out to the main area of the club, he was grabbed, of course. Some prick abruptly wound his fingers around his joint. When Apollo slapped his hand away, the guy asked him for a private dance. The price: $50. Quickly negotiated down to $20. Taking his hand and leading him to a Meat Up Booth, Apollo pushed him down on the bench. Standing before him, he lazily shook his booty, raising his arms over his head now and then.
When the guy tried to grab his cock, Apollo pulled away. "That'll be another $20."
"Get hard for me," the man demanded in a hoarse voice.
"Ten bucks."
After he forked it over, Apollo gave himself a couple of jerks and his dick obediently came to attention. The man lazily stroked his own cock through the thin material of his bikini briefs as he stared at Apollo through hooded eyes. A few more shakes of his hips and Apollo got out of there. He wasn't going to wait for the guy to try to put it into his mouth.
Amir bin Turki al Saud sat observing from a nearby corner. Olive skin, dark eyes, short black wiry hair, a tight coarse beard. His face, more oval shaped compared to the square fat faces of most of his relatives. People would probably describe him as handsome. 33 years old, two wives. His sexual preference a closely guarded secret. If they ever found out he was gay, he'd likely be dead. But, he wasn't the first queer member of the royal family and he wouldn't be the last.
His small entourage stood on either side. Finn, his personal assistant. Every royal family member wanted at least one American PA. It was satisfying to know you had an infidel to suck your toes, not literally, but figuratively. In fact, if that's what he wanted, Finn would probably do it. Blond, Nordic, linebacker build. He'd thought a few times about fucking him but he liked it better if he was just a servant. Why let him into that part of his personal life?
Omar, his body guard. Skinny, wiry, oily. He talked in a high pitched, whiny voice with a thick Arab accent that usually irritated Amir. But, when it came to protection, the guy was an animal. Anyone trying to cross Amir in any way was first met with a squeaky warning. Most people laughed it off. He sounded ridiculous. But, forced into physical contact, he became a wild man. More than once, Amir had seen him beat a guy to a pulp.
Apollo had just stuffed the crumpled up bills into a lockbox on the nearby wall. Each dancer had their own secure box for depositing tips. A hand softly touched his arm. He turned to see a good-looking blond surfer type guy. Well! This was refreshing, Apollo thought. Someone other than the old fat farts that populated the club.
"Would you come with me?"
He followed him to a dark corner where another man stood. Some Middle Eastern type. Deep in the shadows, a third man slouched against the back of the booth. He could barely make out his face. Apollo just stood there. Both blond surfer guy and the other guy looked to the sides, watching the crowd, apparently showing no interest in him.
As his eyes adjusted, Apollo could make out the third man's features a little better. Also Middle Eastern, good looking and in good shape. He wore an expensive looking black t-shirt. A Rolex adorned his right wrist.
Slightly built, long dirty blond hair that fell over his ears and eyes, smooth pale skin, tiny nipples, a small innie belly button, looking even smaller because of the treasure below. Graceful, but narrow hips. His cock, a thing of beauty. Long, thick, circumcised, thank God. Big head. A set of full looking balls hanging below. His package bobbed slightly, swinging from side to side, as he shifted from hip to hip. One hand grabbed the elbow of the other arm, a sign that he was a bit uncomfortable. Amir had to resist every temptation to drop to his knees and swallow him whole.
"Turn around," he said.
Apollo smirked, "I will, for twenty."
He would do it for ten, but it wouldn't hurt to at least put it out there.
Amir glanced at Finn who, in turn, extended a hand out to Apollo, dropping some money into his hand. Glancing down quickly, he could see that it was a $100 bill.
With a shrug, still holding onto his arm, he turned around. Look straight ahead for a moment, then twisting his head around to look back at the man.
What a cute boy butt, Amir thought! He was hard in just a couple of seconds. Slightly dimpled on both sides, a nice hairless crack, the slender curve up to his waist. He wondered how old he was. Barely 18, if that. He kept his serious expression, slightly nodding in approval.
"Spread your legs and bend over."
Apollo chuckled. He was about to ask for more money but, before he could, another $100 bill was extended toward him. Taking it from the guy, he obligingly spread his legs and bent over far enough to touch the floor with his fingers.
A perfectly round, pinkish brown, puckered asshole. Apollo's balls dangled enticingly between his legs.
Amir licked his lips.
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