The Jerk-Off
by Jack Lynch
Chapter 5
Zoov.
"Yeah?" Dickie Lee growled into the phone. It was late afternoon, the day after the murder was discovered on Ledecker Island. Since then, boat traffic in front of his cabin was annoying, as people with way too much time on their hands, circled the island, hoping to get a glimpse of anything that was gossip worthy.
A simple "hello" wasn't really in his wheelhouse right now, especially this being the third call he'd gotten from Zoov since last night. He hadn't been able to tell him much then and he didn't have much more to tell him now.
Dickie Lee could hardly understand the guy in the best of circumstances. But, with all of the noise in the background, mostly girls chattering away in Hmong and a copious amount of loud music, Zoov's ranting was incomprehensible.
"I'll come by later," Dickie Lee finally blurted into the phone, using his thumb to click off the call.
He shook his head, pressing his hands against his ears, as if trying to quell the noise in his head. He was mostly in a fog at the moment, fueled by beer and several shots of Tequila. Last night hadn't come off even close to the way they thought it would. In fact, it was a fucking disaster. And now, he was totally freaking out.
It had started out pretty good. The two boys who had been transported from Zoov's place were nothing short of fantastic. A party favor, he'd been told. Two skinny little runts who fucked like there was no tomorrow. Those Hmong boys were something. Okay, technically not boys, but with Asians, who could ever tell? Zoov assured him they were legal. Maybe they were, certainly when you looked closely at their faces. The rest of them? Narrow hips, tiny nipples, smooth shiny skin. Blong had a stubby little dick, dark brownish red, about the size of a chili pepper. The other one, almost the opposite. Unusual for a Hmong, Nick was circumcised, his cock thick and more than six inches long.
Even still, Dickie Lee had trouble remembering their names. One straddled his face, the other sat so nicely across his abdomen, gasping softly as he lowered himself onto Dickie Lee's stiff member. The smell and the sensation were intoxicating. His cheeks rubbed against the creamy thighs of the smaller of the two, his butthole scraping against Dickie Lee's chin. The other one, sitting on his cock, groaned loudly as Dickie Lee thrust his hips upward. It didn't take long before there was milky goo all over the place.
A flash back to late winter, Dickie Lee was perched on a stool in The Bar, his ample ass flowing over the sides. Originally, he had planned to come in and have just one quick beer and a shot. That was, how many ago? The world was spinning delightfully in slow motion. He didn't even notice the man sitting next to him until his drink was delivered to him. Turning his head and squinting, he saw that he was some kind of Asian guy. Kind of square shaped, not really fat, but definitely not skinny. His face, also square, framed by rectangular glasses with thick black frames.
He didn't remember how even he got started talking to the guy. He sort of jabbered on, Dickie Lee grunting here and there. Did Dickie Lee know of any good places to party? His response, another grunt.
"I know a place," the guy said.
Dickie Lee sucked down a swallow of brew, staring at both of their reflections in the mirror behind the bar. His first thought— I gotta lose some weight . He was more than twice the size of the other guy. His second thought— where is this going?
"A place where you can have some fun—serious fun."
They looked at each other intently for a few moments.
Then he went into some details. A private club, just opened, buried deep in the woods. Girls, boys, your choice, all Hmong. Pay a "membership" fee and everything else was included, drinks, weed, music, cards. And sex. A variety of rooms, private and public. Nudity optional, but encouraged.
"First visit, complimentary," he said as he handed Dickie Lee a card. It came out sounding more like "Comp ri ment ary."
"What's this place called?"
"Zoov's."
"And, I take it, you are…"
"Zoov," he replied, smiling broadly.
Astonishing. That was one way to describe it. In Dickie Lee's way of expressing himself, it was fucking unbelievable! At the end of a narrow sand and gravel road, just off of a remote county highway, the rundown house was surrounded by a number of vehicles, mostly pickups, minivans, and SUV's, tucked between trees or parked across the small scrubby front yard. The only illumination came from a weak porch light. All of the windows had been blacked out.
The door swung open after he pushed the doorbell, Zoov greeting him with a nod. Inside, loud music, tracer lights running across the ceiling. Naked people. Or mostly naked. The patrons, all Caucasian men, with a Black or Latino guy and a couple of gals mixed in here or there, were the ones with nothing on.
The hosts and hostesses, as Zoov referred to them, were scantily clad. And, all Asian. The women were topless, most with pert little breasts and dark raisin like nipples. They wore the briefest of thong bikini panties on the bottom, their tight little asses almost completely bare, round and protruding, begging to be caressed, backs arched from the high heels they all wore. Dickie Lee conjured up a distant memory of pouring over his father's Playboy magazines, staring long and hard at the raunchy cartoons featuring naked little Asian girls with narrow slits for eyes.
And then there were the boys. Well, men supposedly. Equally slight, similarly clad. Naked, except for micro briefs, some with the backs cut out. A couple of them wore briefs so spare the fronts were more like flimsy socks that barely encapsulated their dicks. Smooth, tight little tummies, narrow shoulders. Dickie Lee had never had sex with another guy. Never even thought much about it. But, presented with this tantalizing array of young men, his mind and preferences quickly started shape shifting.
After Zoov gave him a few pointers, he left him to wander around. There was so much to look at he hardly knew which way to turn. Activity varied from room-to-room. Casual drinking and socializing in an area that resembled a bar, so jarring with most everyone naked or nearly so. He didn't recognize anyone. Probably people from the Cities or St. Cloud.
A hallway was lined with small rooms that were like dressing rooms, the doorways covered by flimsy drapes. Murmuring and grunting sounds emanated from a couple of them. Pushing one curtain aside just enough to take a peek, he observed one of the Asian girls sitting naked on a bench, her legs splayed wide open, one foot propped up on a wall. A woman with curly blonde hair, knelt before her, her face buried in the Asian girl's pussy. She shook her head from side-to-side, as she made loud slurping sounds.
Dickie Lee took a deep breath, loosened his belt, and a few seconds later, he was naked, too. He intended to join the two women, his goal to stick his stiff cock up that blonde's twat from behind. Before he could get there, however, he felt a hand wind itself around his dick. Looking to the side, he gazed bleary eyed at its owner, the cutest little Asian guy, a shy smile on his face.
"Hi, I'm Chu."
Dickie Lee couldn't help himself. He sort of melted, putting aside any preconceived notion that he was straight. Minutes later, he was fully involved in a fuck fest with him and two of his buddies.
That night stretched all boundaries. Dickie Lee engaged in every form of sexual play his imagination could have ever conjured. Sometime late that night or early the next morning, what's the difference? Dickie Lee sat at the bar, naked and limp. Not just his dick, every part of his being.
"You like, Muj?" Zoov asked.
Dickie Lee could only huff. He casually stroked his chest, blithely aware his tits were bigger than most of the girls in this place.
Later, as the sun was just appearing over the horizon, Dickie Lee drove his truck across the frozen lake to Ledecker Island. When he stumbled up the steps to his house, he didn't even notice the door was ajar.
"Who the hell are you?" He asked sharply.
A guy was lounging on his couch, his head laying on the arm rest.
"Someone who's here to give you a proposition," he replied.
Dickie Lee went immediately to a cabinet against the far wall where he kept a gun, just in case—and this was one of those cases.
"Don't bother, lumpy," the guy said, pulling Dickie Lee's weapon out from where he had it buried in the seat cushions of the couch. Pointing the barrel of the gun at a nearby chair he said, "Have a seat."
"Like hell!" Dickie Lee blurted after the guy told him how his "assistance" was going to be required so that his unnamed client could gain control of Ledecker Island.
"That's okay, fats," the guy responded. "Just a warning, though. Bad things can happen to good people."
Something about the way the guy spoke gave Dickie Lee the Willie's. It wasn't his physique. In fact, he was slender and not obviously muscular. The only thing that seemed to distinguish him was a kind of bitter smell, sort of like pepper. Not pervasive, just there. But, it was his demeanor that got Dickie Lee shook up. An ominous presence, quietly threatening. In even tones, he laid out the barest framework of a plan.
"You'll be presented with an opportunity," he said. "I suggest you take it."
Before he could respond, the guy left. Just like that. After hesitating for a moment, Dickie Lee followed him out onto his small porch. He was nowhere to be found, apparently having vanished into the woods.
Winter was slowly turning into spring. After Dickie Lee's next visit to Zoov's, the club's namesake sat down with him at The Bar to tell him the story.
He discovered the allure that Asians seemed to have when he stumbled, quite by accident, into a bar, aptly named The Gay '90's, in downtown Minneapolis. Nursing a gin and tonic, he observed a couple of Japanese college guys across from him being positively mauled by some of the Caucasian patrons. A bell or, rather, a gong in his case, went off in his head. Having just been laid off from a dead end job at an Amazon warehouse, he was casting around for something to do.
The girls and boys were imported from Hugo, the northern Twin Cities suburb where most of the Hmong had settled. He hung around the campuses of a couple of community colleges and nearby coffee shops, knowing exactly what he was looking for. In short order, he had a bunch of willing young men and women needing some extra money, a lease on a dump up in the north woods, and a plan.
"So, here's the deal," Zoov said to Dickie Lee. Grabbing a cocktail napkin and a pen, he made a rough but amazingly accurate drawing of Ledecker Island. A future haven, a whole island, dedicated to illicit sex and nudism, all based on the information contained in a packet that had been given to him.
"We build bar here with dance floor, huts over there for play, a spot for porta potties, large play pen, even a fenced off area for families with picnic tables and a volley ball court."
Dickie Lee stared thoughtfully at the sketch, nodding from time to time.
"Many games, other activities, all which have happy endings." Zoov smiled. There was no stopping him now. The ideas kept pouring out, the napkin drawing filling up with little squares, circles and dashes.
"What are ya gonna call it?"
"I think it be The Oasis," he said. "You like?"
Dickie Lee smirked.
"So how are ya gonna get control of Ledecker Island?"
"It easy," Zoov proclaimed. "You just talk brudders and sister into selling."
Dickie Lee laughed. "Fat fuckin' chance!"
Zoov just smiled back.
"You no worry. I got money. They will be glad to sell out to you."
"Well, you're gonna need a shit pile of cash."
"I have a bank. A very good bank," Zoov smirked.
"Who's that?"
Zoov smiled, but said nothing more for the moment.
"What are we talkin' about here?"
"A million each and you get free lifetime membership."
It suddenly dawned on him. This was the opportunity that guy was referring to.
The bank, as it turned out, appeared as Zoov was in the final stages of putting his club together. Exiting a gas station in Falcon Heights, north of St. Paul one night, a just opened bag of sunflower seeds in his hand. A big Black guy standing in the nearby shadows gestured to him.
"We got something you might need," he said.
"What's that?"
"Coin."
The guy's name was Tookie. He took him behind the gas station to introduce him to another guy, almost as big and almost as black. His name was Mingo. In short order, he laid out a generous offer. They, whoever they were, somehow knew all about Zoov's little project. Mingo called the people he was fronting alternately, either The Bank or The Outfit. The deal wasn't half bad. Unbeknownst to him, they had recently purchased the property Zoov was leasing. Pay a modest rent and they would supply him with all the working capital he needed. In return, they just wanted a forty percent share in the deal.
"Sounds high," Zoov responded warily.
"Not that high, considering we usually take fifty percent," Mingo replied.
Zoov shrugged. Just like that, his club was up and running.
A couple of well placed notices on some sex boards and, before long, business was booming. With money rolling in, Zoov was content. He assumed The Outfit was happy, too.
Not until late one night as he was tossing some trash into a bin behind Zoov's did he find out what they were really after. Taken from behind, his face was smashed up against the building. Somehow, he was locked in, barely able to breathe. Whoever it was spoke in a rough whisper.
"Here's the deal," he said. "There's this island, Ledecker Island it's called. We're gonna buy it and you're gonna help us get it."
"What do you need my help for?" Zoov grimaced as pressure was put on the middle of his back. He felt like he was going to pass out.
"Details are in the envelope on the ground next to you. That's all you need to know—for now."
Zoov started to slip to the ground, but a firm hand around his arm boosted him up so high he had to stand on his tip-toes. "You're gonna start by using a guy by the name of Dickie Lee."
"Who's that?" Zoov managed to gasp.
"You'll figure it out," he growled.
With that, he reached around and slapped something across Zoov's eyes.
Zoov started hyper-ventilating, thinking he was being blindfolded. But, just like that, the man was gone. When he stepped back and realized he was now alone, Zoov pulled what felt like a piece of paper away from his face. Turning it this way and that in the dim light, he discovered what appeared to be a $100 bill.
Still out of breath and stumbling, he managed to pick the envelope off of the ground and stagger back into the club.
Last night, on the way back from the horrendous discovery at Arthur's cabin, Dickie Lee could have sworn he'd gotten a glimpse of someone leaning against a tree. Just as he stumbled back into his house he heard the sound of a receding outboard. Trying to wipe the sight of that dead man out of his mind, he looked at the two boys from Zoov's who were waiting for him.
"You guys know anything about some bald White guy?"
They just stared at him.
"Well, he just got his head blown off," Dickie Lee muttered.
The two glanced at each other, walked quickly out of the house, and toward Dickie Lee's dock.
"You want me to take you back?" Dickie Lee asked, hustling to keep up with them.
Without a word, they walked to the end of the dock and jumped into the water. Dickie Lee watched them paddle away across the bay, on their way to the opposite shore.
"Guess not."
"What were you guys doing out there?" C.O.'s dad asked in an accusatory voice, his hands on his hips.
Thayer had beaten a swift retreat after they were jerked out of their moment. An awkward goodbye and he quickly launched his boat and sped away.
"Nothing! Nothing!" C.O. exclaimed. "He just stopped by to see how I was doing."
"And, how are you doing?" Rhennie's voice immediately softened. He was concerned about his son. The E.R. doc had told them to watch for signs of a concussion.
"Just tired, I guess. I think I'll lie down on my bed. I sort of got the chills from being out there, anyway,"
Rhennie watch him leave the room, a frown on his face. That boy had been acting strangely for awhile, especially around other boys. There were no girls in the picture either, which was particularly troubling since he was so damn good-looking. The girls should, by all rights, be all over him. Sure, he'd asked a girl to prom last spring but they hadn't seen each other since. When they asked about her, C.O. only provided a vague answer.
Lake traffic was heavy so Thayer didn't have any time to think about anything other than piloting his boat until after he'd docked it at his parent's slip near the public water access along Battle Point.
That whole thing was so stupid, he thought, in retrospect. Stupid and awkward. OMG, what if they had actually kissed! That would have been so weird! His lips tingled, just thinking about it. Impulsively, he ran his fingers around his mouth and lips, imagining what C.O. would feel like, taste like. Just like that, he was hard. A fuzzy romantic fantasy started to play itself out in his mind.
"Hey, jerk-off!"
Thayer was, well, jerked back to reality.
"Oh hi, Donald," he replied after he refocused his attention.
"You in dream land, bud?" He asked with a chuckle.
Donald Running was a kid from his school. Same grade. Bigger, he easily had a hundred pounds on Thayer. A tackle on the high school's football team, his skills were mostly limited to running around during games and falling on the nearest player, his own unique approach to tackling. Wide face, double or triple chins, acne everywhere on his face and neck, sporting a sunburn, to boot.
"No, I ah…" his voice just trailed off. Thayer shrugged the hood of his sweat shirt off and tousled his hair, pulling the navy fleece down below his waist to cover his hard-on.
"You heard anything more about what happened over there on Ledecker Island?"
"No, not really. I guess I missed it all last night and I've been workin' all day."
"My dad's brother is caretaker over there. He was the one that found the body."
"Your dad's brother?" Thayer had to think for a moment. "You mean Vern?"
"Yeah, Vern. I guess he's pretty shook up about it."
"Huh, yeah," Thayer nodded. "Hey, doesn't that mean he's your uncle?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Donald responded with a chuckle and a shrug. "I've only ever called him Vern." Then, he gave Thayer a squirrelly smile. "I got past the parental controls on our Wi-Fi," he said. "Wanna come over and watch some porn?"
Thayer immediately blushed. "Nah, that's okay."
Donald chuckled, "Yeah, I guess you're probably too busy rubbin' it out with Cutie."
"Jeez!" Thayer exclaimed, walking away as he shook his head. Maybe rubbin' it out, but not with Cutie , he thought.
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