It started like some kind of comedy. I was small-timing it for weekend cash -- I think I still had a real job back then. Probably something like video store clerk. Anyway, there's this tattoo parlor maybe 6 blocks from the rathole I was living in at the time, straight cash business, a lot of under the table bullshit.

The kinda place twelve year olds walk out of with full back tattoos, so I knew there wouldn't be a camera. I went in nice and easy, the place had 8 locks, but none of them were any good. It didn't take long for me to get in.

I was figuring on an easy score. Probably not too much, but the place stayed open till 2 and 3 in the morning, so wasn't anybody heading to the bank or anything at closing. I knew I'd have at least enough to drink the good shit down at Tubby's.

So I walked in, headed straight for the back, around the chairs, around the tables, trying not to get spooked by the stupid-assed pictures on the wall and the way the lights on the passing cars made 'em look like they were moving, and I stepped on a squeaky tile and the next thing I knew there was this *snick* sound followed immediately by something cold and sharp poking my neck.

"You just take it nice and easy, picture boy and gimme the money."

At least, that's what Fenster told me he'd said later on. What I heard was something like... like what everybody else hears when Fenster talks. Like somebody made a Cuban lounge singer smoke an ounce of hash, then put marbles in his mouth, then forced him to sing America the Beautiful.

Fenster has this *lazy* thing going on with his speech, like he's way too bored to actually move his lips when he talks. Or his tongue.

So I basically just figured I had some kind of tattooed freak behind me, hopped up on testosterone and good, clean pain and waiting to show me, narrow-assed little punk that I am, what happens when you break into *his* establishment.

I swear, by the time I had enough balls back to breathe with the damned knife at my throat the guy was 6 foot 8, 400 lbs, covered in swastikas and skulls and crudely drawn naked women from the time he'd spent in fucking Attica for murdering a busload of ninjas with his bare hands.

So I said, "OK, OK, take it easy pal, I just made a mistake, I'll be going to turn myself in now and give a hefty donation to the bikers of America..." And on and on and on.

All I got in response was more mumbles and another poke to the neck.

I could see it in my head clear as day. I'd be strapped down to the table and there'd be this huge fucking needle -- I fucking hate needles -- jamming into my forehead again and again as he tattooed something horrible up there for all time. Maybe he would just write a lot of nasty shit really really small.... "Hey, I'm sorry, guy, no need to get violent. More violent. Look, I'll just be leaving, and I'll never commit robbery again, I swear."

"Shuthfuggup. You here..." That was all I caught, but I heard the guy laughing a little and, most importantly, putting the damned pigsticker away.

So I took a step or two forward, very slowly, and turned around, also very slowly, and found myself face to face with Fenster for the first time. He had his hair slicked back like something out of a movie, and he was wearing this black satin shirt and tight black jeans and black boots. With heels. And he was laughing his ass off.

Definitely not Attica boy. I started laughing myself. "Christ, what a fucking cockup... wanna just split the cash, fifty-fifty?" I was young enough to feel generous about my night-time activities.

He did this little gesture thing, something like 'after you' with a completely unnecessary hip swivel that made me break up a little more and then I continued on to the back of the store, popped open the antique cash register, and gazed upon the glory that is a nicely filled tray.

"Mmmm... lovethat smell..."

It was getting easier to decipher him. I just sorta replayed everything he said at 16 RPM instead of his perpetual 78. Besides he was sniffing the money, so we were definitely on the same page.

Me, I... I guess I was watching him. I couldn't make out his features too well in the dimness, and I knew I should've been glad of that, but it was messing me up a little. I remember I told myself I was just convincing myself that he wasn't gonna up and transform into Atticaguy and tattoo a huge diseased pussy on my head, but that was bullshit.

See, he was smelling the money and I was smelling him. He may have looked like a refugee from Solid Gold or some shit but he smelled... good. Some kind of expensive shit like the girls I used to scam in high school would get me for Valentine's Day and our one month Anniversary Day and on and on... He smelled like that, and that black satin shirt was open down to his collarbone, and I could see a pulse in his thin, smooth throat.

It fucking *killed* me that I couldn't really tell what his complexion was. It was one of those times I knew I'd spent too much goddamned time in prison for my own good. I started thinking about what *his* time had been like. I may not have been able to tell exactly what color he was, but I knew he'd been in prison.

You can always tell, you know. It's in the way people do the things they like. *Savoring* it, you know? I'd done time, but I don't think I'd done enough by then to really have that look... I don't really know, though.

Anyway, he caught me looking and the damned knife was *right* back at my throat, which suggested he'd gotten along in prison just fucking fine. "Goin' back on the deal?"

"Huh? Fuck no."

"What the fuck you starin' at?"

I don't what it is... it's just easier to tell the God's honest truth to someone I just met than it is with anyone else. Most of the time you can count on them just laughing it off anyway. "You."

Fenster laughed again, put the knife away again, shook his head and started counting out the money, fast and easy. I watched him do it, looking for the cheat. He had a ring on his pinky finger that seemed just a little too big for his long, slim fingers. Fast, nimble fingers. I was glad I didn't have any of my own money in my wallet, fingers like that.

When he was done there were two neat, even piles on the dingy looking counter. I pocketed mine, he pocketed his, and then I reached out to shake his hand. I remember having this stupid fucking grin on my face, all the fear adrenaline still in my body *and* money in my pocket.... he took my hand, squeezed it, and held onto it. Waited until I looked him in the eye again.

"Fenster." Came out perfectly clear, purringly clear like some big cat. He smiled at me, a real no-doubt smile, white in the dark.

"McManus."

"Want some?"

I don't know if I even blinked at him. Next thing I *do* know is that he let my hand go just long enough to fucking... *press* into me. That isn't the word, but fuck it. One minute he was there, and the next minute he was *there* and suddenly I'm packing. I smelled him right up close, and under the expensive cologne was this heavy scent that was like cigarettes and something else, and something else that was a little sweet, and him.

I didn't kiss him, I just sort of... rubbed my face against his. He was smooth-shaven, I wasn't. I liked the way I could feel my stubble moving around against his skin. He responded by rubbing his whole body against mine and *fuck* but if he hadn't dropped to his knees right after I would have. I know I would have. He smelled so fucking *good*...

He pushed his face up against my jeans and breathed. Laughed when I jerked. The counter's edge was kinda digging into my spine so I braced my hands behind me and pushed back.

Then he looked up at me from under these... these *sooty* eyelashes and his eyes were darker than everything else in the whole damned store.

"You want a suck?"

I felt my eyes get wider like part of me was actually surprised by the question. Fenster has a way with shit like that, always has. He don't say much unless he's pissed off or freaked or something, and when he *does* talk the things he says are just... he's got a way of making me sit up and pay attention.

But anyway, Fenster had it under control. Opened up my jeans and tugged my jockeys aside and took me in like it was nothing. All I knew was that his mouth was so wet and hot it almost hurt to think about, and then he grabbed my hips and pulled me in before I could even get my shit together enough to thrust.

The fucking counter creaked in my fists I was squeezing so hard and he just kept sucking me. And looking at me. I couldn't deal with those liquid black eyes and that mouth stretched around my cock. I closed my eyes but that just meant I could focus on what I was feeling and hearing... Christ, so fucking *wet*, like he was drooling for my dick, fucking hungry for it, wanting to gobble me right up...

I bucked at him but his hands were strong, kept me mostly still. In the end I just let him work me and tried not to scream when I came down his throat. And then he kissed *me*. Left some of my own come on my tongue and started grinding against my hip. I went to reach for him but he just grabbed my wrists and held them against the counter.

I felt my dick trying to twitch and groaned a little.

"I got a bed."

"Yeah?" He was still moving against me like he had all the time in the fucking world. I figured out that he was dancing to the music blasting from two buildings down and I fucking *needed* him naked *then*. I struggled a little in his grip, just to make sure he knew what I wanted.

"It's close. I'm gonna fuck you, pretty..." Purred into my ear fast and perfectly clear, and then his tongue was there, pressing in wet and hot and slick and I stayed there until he let me move.

When he did I walked right out of the store, feeling my oversensitized dick scrape a little uncomfortably against my underwear. All I wanted to do was lay back somewhere and let my dick get used to life outside our new friend's mouth again, but I kept walking. I guess I could've begged off. I'd gotten off *and* I had a pocket full of money, but this guy...

I just wanted him naked. I couldn't think too far beyond him being naked. I pictured a bed, and I pictured his body, golden according to the streetlights. He was lean, almost skinny, but he moved like he had some muscle on him, though at the time it could've just been because of the very obvious hard-on he was sporting.

He walked in rhythm, too, this sort of not-quite-sway that seemed liquid somehow, like he was just pouring himself down the street. He kept looking over at me and grinning like a kid. I liked the grin. I liked the grin a whole fucking lot.

His apartment was a fourth floor walkup, complete with incredibly loud neighbors. The tile was warped and water-damaged in places, and the stairs smelled like piss. All very familiar, except the people were screaming in a different language. Sometimes it still freaks me out that I don't live anywhere that smells like piss anymore.

Fenster walked up the stairs ahead of me, just walking normal, I know, but all I could do was watch his ass. I hadn't felt like that since puberty smacked me right upside the head just as summer was starting and people were walking around half-naked in the streets... shit, I was just fucking horny again.

And then we were inside, and it was perfectly Fenster. I mean, the lighting was hazy and warm wherever possible, the place was spotless, and it smelled good. And there was even music playing somewhere, quiet. It was like the place was just waiting for him to get back. I can remember everything from that night.

I remember that he got me a beer, and I remember that he didn't give me any time to drink it before he slipped behind me and started kiss-sucking on the back of my neck. Wet, just like before. I let my head fall forward and braced myself on his wall. I knew what I was acting like, but I just didn't care enough to stop. And Fenster... he was good about it, you know?

Didn't give me shit for punking out so bad, just kept mouthing me, touching me... I could feel him searching out all the spots that made me jerk, smiling against my skin when he found one. I remember at one point my shirt was rucked up under my pits and my pants were around my ankles and I was still braced against the wall. I saw an image of myself in my head and I think I tried to blush.

But Fenster was still moving around back there, still biting and sucking. I knew he was leaving marks but I just didn't give a shit. I hate saying stuff like this, but sometimes it just... works. And this worked. Worked so well I wound up smearing his nice clean wall with my precome when he finally grabbed my dick after all the torture.

"Ready?"

"Fuck yeah..." I know I sounded like some teenaged punk... but I wasn't all that far from being one, so fuck it.

"Bed's back here..."

When he moved away my whole back felt cold and I realized that he'd stayed right *there* the whole time. Close. I turned from the wall, putting all my weight back in my legs and nearly staggered. My dick was reaching for the sky again. I wondered how much blood was getting to my brain. I finally stepped out of my jeans while he watched me, pulled my t-shirt up and over my head. My hair fell over my eyes, heavy with sweat, and I brushed it back in time to see him adjusting his bulging crotch almost roughly.

He was still fully dressed, the sonofabitch. I basically pounced him and did a really bad job of opening the buttons of his shirt until he reached in to do it for me. I did better with his pants and Fenster's dick was just waiting for me, thick and cut and peeking out of his black silk boxers and drooling. We'd waited way too long -- there was no way he'd get inside me without both of us shooting our wads before anything really good started.

He was holding on to both my shoulders and squeezing. I could see him shaking, trying not to thrust. I felt something twist low in my gut and that was it. Fuck the bed.

I pulled Fenster down to the floor and let him roll us around some. He made a sound like 'mrrrrrr' when our dicks brushed and then he was holding me down or maybe bracing himself with a hand on my chest and screwing down against me, slick and sliding against me. I rolled my hips up and met him thrust for thrust, ass scraping the carpet and hands slipping on his smooth, sweaty skin.

He was moaning and grunting continuously by that point, or maybe he was saying words that I just didn't catch. Either way, I couldn't take my eyes off him, off his over-bitten lower lip and the way all that weirdly elegant muscle moved under his skin. I couldn't hold back anymore, I grabbed his ass and pulled him in tighter to me, grinding up and up until Fenster spilled between us.

The feel of his come, the way he was suddenly all loose and bendable... I wanted to make it last. I flipped him over and held off as long as I could. What did me in was the look in his eyes when I focused on his face. Lazy and... pleased. All easy like I wasn't just some punk who was robbing the same place he was.

He rolled up into me and I lost it, groaning, on his belly.

Rolled over just far enough that we wouldn't be too stuck together, because, see, I knew. I'd be staying the night. That look... he put his arm on me and let it rest there.

I could see how it was gonna be, kind of, and I had to make myself stop thinking about it, it was so good. I knew I wasn't going anywhere.

And I never really did.