Like Dust in the Wind
by Jack Lynch
Chapter 5
Malibu.
October
"It never rains in Southern California."
The music went around and around in his head. A large umbrella overhead, the gigantic amoeba shaped swimming pool in front of him. The sound of the waves crashing on Paradise Cove Beach just below, shrieking seagulls overhead. Adjacent to the pool, a sprawling Malibu mansion.
A long sigh. For Apollo, it should have been a sigh of contentment. But, he wasn't content. This wasn't where he wanted to be. But, he shrugged to himself, he had no other place to be.
Strange. Almost like being sold into slavery.
A few weeks ago, Gunther had tracked him down in the dressing room at Slammer.
"Get dressed. You're outta here."
"What?"
"There's a car waiting for you outside."
After being offered, more like directed, into the plush leather back seat of a Mercedes S-Class sedan, he tried to get a grip on his current circumstance.
In his wildest dreams, Apollo never thought the brief encounter with the mysterious Middle Eastern guy meant anything at all. But, he'd remembered the look in his eyes when he turned around and bent over. Detached, slightly bored, but also something else. A hunger or desperation.
Shown to his new digs by a man wearing a white tunic, he admired the plush surroundings. Shocked, he discovered all of his stuff, what little he owned, had been transferred to his room from the crusty apartment he shared with three other dancers.
Apollo didn't even see the guy for a couple of days. In the meantime, he just hung around. Ate, slept, watched some movies. Asked to put on a Speedo swimsuit, he was sent out to the pool where he was formally introduced to Amir.
Nice looking, Apollo confirmed to himself. Dark sunglasses, thin face, immaculately coifed short hair and beard, a modestly hairy chest, dark brown nipples. He wore a splashy pair of boxer style swim trunks.
Small talk followed by Amir politely requesting that Apollo remove his swimsuit.
Jamiil! Amir thought to himself. Beautiful! That long, pale dick. The head, possibly 3 centimeters in diameter. Fi ahsun alahwal! A perfect set of balls. The whole package waving hypnotically in front of him as Apollo uncomfortably shifted his weight from hip to hip. Just like that night in the club. In bright daylight, he looked absolutely delectable.
"On your knees." A quiet but firm order. Amir put his hands behind his head. He had wanted to go down on Apollo but one look at him made him so hard he needed to cum immediately.
The first of many blow jobs to come. It wasn't that bad, really. Amir smelled good. His thick wiry pubic hair tickling his nostrils was a bit off putting. Average cock. Nothing special. And, he came in buckets.
After it was over and Amir had collected himself, he motioned for Apollo to sit on the pool deck at his feet.
"Be good to me. I be good to you."
Apollo just looked up at him with a scornful expression on his face.
Omar watched from a second floor window. That boy was something else, he thought. His own dick stiffened but he fought back against his feelings. No way, was he ever going to give in to those impulses. That was for his boss. Someday, Amir's flesh would melt in the boiling waters of hell.
In the meantime, there was work to do. He swept down the long set of stairs to the main floor. Exiting the house, he went to the nearby security hut.
"Hey, Radio Shack. You got the phone ready for me?"
Feng, their Chinese IT guy, had also been watching the action on the pool deck. A panel of fifteen video monitors sat in front of him. He looked up at Omar with a glare and shoved the smartphone at him.
"Do you speak, Feng?" Omar asked in a high pitched giggle.
"Fuck off!"
Omar wound up and slapped the back of Feng's head so hard the force of it thrust his head squarely into the video monitor in front of him. He'd have a red mark there for the rest of the day.
Not bothering to put the swimsuit back on, Apollo padded up the steps to his room. When he walked in, Omar was there.
"Your phone," was all he said as his eyes drank in the boy's nakedness. He tossed it on the bed. "Get dressed. We go shopping and get you fixed up."
"I don't need nothin'."
"Ten minutes. Downstairs."
Apollo shrugged. After Omar left, he grabbed his phone. All of his contacts had been deleted. Only one phone number was listed: House. Likewise, several of the apps he commonly used were gone. Just for kicks, he typed Slammer into his browser. Nothing came up.
His shopping trip to Beverly Hills included re-wardrobing him in expensive shirts, pants, shoes, and underwear. In the middle of the shopping spree, he was diverted to a hair salon, Mèche. One of the stylists, a guy named Buddy, looked at him with a discerning eye. After a shampoo, Apollo sat obediently while a shower of little hair clippings rained down around him.
When he was done, amazingly, his hair wasn't that much shorter. Just, somehow, better. Still long in the back, covering his forehead in the front. But, it seemed to lay so nicely. Buddy's stern instructions included a bag full of various tubes and bottles of product. Combined, they would give his hair a clean shiny look, avoiding the greasy finish it usually had.
For the next while, Apollo settled into a routine. Some variation of fucking or sucking took place every few days. His butthole fairly burned after getting plowed a couple of days in a row. He took it, because he really had no other options. Once, Omar wrestled him out of bed in the middle of the night. Staggering as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes, he fell into bed with Amir. Almost, instantaneously, Amir straddled Apollo's chest pinning him on the bed. Apollo gagged a couple of times, not because he was that big but because Amir jammed his cock down his throat with such force. They woke up together the next morning, intertwined in each other's arms.
Amir's young and beautiful wives appeared now and then. Neisha and Oma, In their early to mid-20's, Apollo guessed. Always exquisitely made up, dressed beautifully and tastefully. Early on, the girls must have been either been clued in or figured it out. Amir's sexual proclivities were an open secret. They mostly steered clear of him. Only now and then did they even interact with him. When they did, they were demure and light hearted.
Shopping was the girls' lease in life. Breezing in the door, chatting and giggling, followed by their own personal assistants. Cass, big as a house, waddling as she carried a tall stack of boxes. An uncanny resemblance to Mama Cass from the Mamas and the Papas. Ebony, aptly named, the rope handles of several shopping bags hanging from her wrists . Coal black skin. Incredibly beautiful features, full lips defined by perfectly applied bright red lipstick. Not a hair on her, anywhere. A shiny bald head, eyebrows waxed off. A lithe figure with an attractive Black bootie.
Quantum Enigma. Rosenblum's book on where "physics encounters consciousness" lay open on Apollo's chest as he dozed by the swimming pool. When he asked if he could get it, Omar just shrugged. A couple of clicks and it was ordered from Barnes & Noble.
Another boring, but beautiful day. Amir had been gone for a couple of days, his departure unannounced and his return uncertain. Apollo's apparent status was on a "need to know" basis.
Back to the book. A few years ago, his parents actually enrolled him in school. They had to. Truant officers showed up at the shelter where they had been staying. Get him in school or social services was bound to take some action, they were told.
"Apollo. Named after the Greek god?" His math instructor asked. Mr. Westin was a strict teacher but also a nice guy.
"No. From the 'Rocky' movies. My parents are big Stallone fans."
Mr. Westin chuckled.
"Ok. Here, let me show you how to solve for this equation."
Apollo had no clue what was going on in most of his classes. Except math. He just got it. He whipped through most of the material. Westin just kept shoveling more and more advanced math at him. Within a few weeks, he was on the math team.
From there, he just sort of ate it up. He shoplifted countless books on physics and math from various bookstores, consuming them like cotton candy at the circus.
Just as he was entering a sweet round of REM, Ebony plopped down on the chaise lounge next to him. Topless, micro bikini bottoms. Small, firm breasts. Hard nipples. Laying on her side as she faced Apollo, a graceful curve to her hips. Shining, smooth, dark skin.
"Well, hello, big boy!" She breathed.
Apollo had forgotten he was laying out naked. He quickly dropped the open book on top of his junk.
The two of them had done some verbal sparring over the last couple of weeks. One or the other, they cracked each other up with their glib comments and sharp retorts. Apollo thought she was very bright.
Now, apparently, the equation was changing.
"Where's Oma?" He asked.
Ebony shrugged, "I dunno. Boy friend, I guess." She let out a high pitched giggled.
Apollo sat up a little straighter.
"Ummm…ya know I'm…" The word "gay" never got through his lips.
Ebony practically leapt off of her chaise lounge on top of Apollo. Lips crushing his, hips melded together. She reached under and pulled the book away so their parts could meet.
This was so unseemly, Apollo thought. He had no interest in this girl. Any girl. But, instead of crying rape, his mouth fell open as Ebony thrust her tongue deeply into it. Without thinking, he ran his hands down her back to her tight, round ass. When his fingers pushed under her bikini bottoms and dug deeply into her crack, she let out a long groan. Much to his own amazement, he became instantly erect.
Standing up for a moment to jerk the bottom of her swimsuit off, she looked down at a gasping Apollo.
"Shit, honey! That is one gorgeous piece of meat!"
Now naked, she jumped back on top of him, grinding herself into him. Her nipples were so hard, they felt like ice picks as they scraped against his chest.
For an instant, a long buried memory resurfaced. Just 14 years old, his parents had sold his teenage body to some woman they'd met. Transported by cab and left at her upscale suburban home, she'd methodically stripped him naked right in the front hall. She was slightly on the heavy side with generous hips and breasts. At his age, he was almost always boned up so it wasn't that difficult. But, he felt nothing. It just confirmed what had always been inside him.
Instinct took over. Apollo flipped her over on her back. Not caring to touch her pussy with his fingers, he simply pushed Ebony's legs wide open and entered her in one swift move. She was wet, more than ready. He thought being inside her would feel smooth and slippery. It was, but there was also a slightly gritty feeling as if fine sandpaper lined the inside of her vagina. It felt incredible.
She came almost instantly. Just before he orgasmed, she came again. Even afterwards, Apollo was still partially hard. He propped himself up over her, holding himself inside her as he caught his breath.
Finally, he rolled off to the side and looked at her. Tears were actually running off the sides of her face.
"Well. That was…something," Apollo said.
Ebony chuckled deeply.
In the security shack, Feng growled with satisfaction. He'd zoomed in to watch the action being broadcast from one of the wall mounted security cameras. When it was over, he smirked. After clicking stop on the record button he deftly dragged the video file into a super secret folder on an invisible drive. Good jerk off material for later.
Of course, Feng was obliged to share the video with Omar.
"Al'ama!" Damn in Arabic, followed by, "Fu-u-u-ck!" Omar shook his head as he looked over Feng's shoulder.
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