A Cascade of Rueful Incidences

Chapter 4 - Deceptive Defender

The stranger that so unexpectedly saved Rhett from the clutches of Tanner and his best client kept him lying on the floor of the cubicle for quite some time. The boy had time to calm down. Tears dried on his cheeks, and the bit in his throat melted away.

Rhett was relieved, of course -- he had got out of the dangerous situation unscathed -- but he was also mortified.

Tanner was a stranger I just met. I shouldn't have gone with him anywhere, he silently scolded himself. I was an idiot, and it almost cost me dearly.

Why did I follow him so meekly? Did I really trust in him? On what account? Just because he "saved my ass" from Mr. Gold?

Why did he even intervene in the matter? I should’ve asked why he did that. No complete stranger would take such an interest in me, not without an ulterior motive.

Well, I know exactly what Tanner's motives were, don't I? For being such a fool, I deserved the lesson.

Wait a minute, you moron! Did you learn nothing? Am I heading into more trouble? What are the motives of this man? Rhett wanted to kick himself. I should ask what he wants and not take his claims of wanting to help me at face value.

But, what choice do I have? Out there, Tanner and Ken are looking for me, and where could I go anyway? And... Damn, how will I get my coat? Tanner took the ticket. I didn’t even think about it, back then, at the rack.

In retrospect, Rhett couldn’t believe the level of his idiocy. At least, I have my wallet, he thought in disgust with himself.

And, I’ve got my cell, he recalled in a sudden moment of clear thought. I can send a message to Ronny and Wade.

Sure, and what should I tell them? That I can't take care of myself? That, as soon as I hit Liberty Avenue alone, I'm up to my ears in trouble and in need of rescue? I would never hear the end of it. No, I’m going to walk out of this shit using my own wits, come hell or high water.

Whatever this man may want, as soon as I’m out of this place I’ll part ways with him. There are people on the street. He can’t make me go anywhere with him. And then I’ll call the guys.

I’ll get out of this. I’ll be okay.

With a plan of action, Rhett settled to wait. There was still some shouting out in the corridor, and he heard a couple of doors slamming, but nothing of the tumult sounded alarming. Soon, the man beside him pulled himself up from the floor, and Rhett followed suit.

“I think it’s safe to leave now,” the stranger whispered. “Let me check.” He walked to the door and opened it a tad. Then, without a sound, he beckoned Rhett to follow him out.

At the door, the two fugitives stopped for a second; then they sneaked out into the dark corridor and in a hurried step walked down to the door and out. Rhett didn’t see a glimpse of either Mr. Kutchner or Tanner as he and the stranger walked to the coat check. The man took a ticket out of his pocket and turned to Rhett with a hand extended.

“Uh… I haven’t got the ticket…” Rhett stammered with heat creeping up his neck.

“You didn’t let...”

Mercifully, the man didn’t complete the thought, but Rhett could easily guess what he would’ve said. He kept his eyes cast down as the man told the girl behind the counter that his idiot of a companion had lost the ticket.

“OK. If you can tell me what there is in the pockets you’ll get your coat,” the girl said with an indifferent, barely polite smile. “And, give me the description of your coat, boy.”

Rhett did as he was told, and soon the girl came back with a coat matching the description.

“Here: a dark gray, woolen, hip length coat with a scarf tucked into a sleeve and a chocolate bar in a pocket. Do you remember the brand of the bar?” she asked.

“Snickers,” Rhett muttered and got his coat. As he put it on, he cast a suffering glance at his snickering companion.

“You ready, boy?” the man checked. “Let’s get out of here.”

Rhett was happy to follow the man to the busy street outside.

*****

The man didn’t stop as he and Rhett stepped onto the sidewalk. He set a quick pace that would take them far from BoyToy in a short amount of time. Rhett wanted to leave his company, but the man saved his ass, literally. It didn’t feel right just to hit the road without as much as a thank you. So, Rhett followed his savior down the street.

For the first time, Rhett took a good look at the man, from behind, though. He was of a moderate height and build, his dark hair was short, and his coat was pretty much similar to Rhett's own gray parka. Contrary to Rhett's jeans, the man wore dark gray suit pants. How old is this guy? Rhett wondered as the man led him around a corner and through a side alley to another street parallel to Liberty Avenue.

The escape went on, from a street to an alley, from an alley to a street. As they walked around about the tenth corner, the man finally slowed down and soon stopped.

“Are you okay, boy? I hope I was in time, and they didn’t have the time to harm you,” he asked, finally giving Rhett a good look at his face.

He was an older guy, in his mid 40s in Rhett's estimation, and while his features were pleasant, there was nothing striking about them. An ordinary looking, older guy. But, a stranger, Rhett reminded himself.

“Yes, I’m all right. You were in time, Mr.…?”

“Jones. Fred Jones. And you are…?”

“Rhett…”

“Rhett…?”

“Just Rhett.”

“So mysterious,” Fred chuckled. “But, it’s no big deal. There is a more pressing matter to deal with: we need to get you out of these streets, Rhett. Kutchner and Montgomery are here, somewhere. They mustn’t get a whiff of you.”

“Where could I go?” Rhett couldn’t help asking even though he wanted nothing but to leave Fred and the whole sorry incident behind already. But, he couldn’t think of a place where Mr. Kutchner and Tanner wouldn’t find him.

“There’s only one place that is safe: Babylon,” Fred said with a finality that sent shivers running down Rhett’s spine. Somehow, the tone of Fred's voice hammered home the fact that he wasn’t in safe waters yet.

“Babylon?” the boy asked, afraid but, at the same time, harboring a hidden hope. If he was really, really, really lucky, he might be heading into an adventure beyond his wildest dreams. Babylon! Neither Ronny nor Wade has ever been there, and maybe…

“Yes." Fred's answer pulled Rhett out of daydreaming. "Kinney has permanently banned access for both of them. In his club you’re safe.”

“But, I’m not old enough…”

“Let me take care of that; I know most of the bouncers. I’m sure they’ll let you in when we tell them about your encounter with the two bastards.”

“Do you have to…?” Rhett didn't like the idea.

“It’s best that they know, Rhett. Kutchner and Montgomery may be banned, but they have friends that are not. You’ll want the bouncers on your side, boy.”

“I guess…” Rhett said, taking a frightened look around. Any men milling about them could be sent by Mr. Kutchner.

“Don’t worry about your reputation. Even if the bouncers would spread the story, your troubles with the chicken hawk and his provider won’t make more than a slight ripple on the grapevine. You’re not the first boy that has been harassed by those two. And I’m afraid you won’t be the last, either.”

“How can they go on, preying on boys like that? Why won’t people stop them?”

Rhett shivered. He recalled the feeling of being forced to do things he didn't want to do, and he remembered how it felt to expect frightening things to happen to him. Despite his struggle to keep the memories out of his mind, the feeling of being completely without the means or the power to prevent those things from happening took the focal point in his thoughts. He felt helpless again.

“What do you suggest that could be done about people like them?” Fred asked gently.

“Police?”

”Would you tell the police your story? What accusations could you make against Kutchner or Montgomery? Did they, actually, commit a crime? Did they abduct you? Were you forced into the club? Were you forced into the cubicle?”

“Uh… sort of.”

“Yeah, sort of. And, you sort of went willingly, too. And, even if you were forced, even if you had been raped, how could you prove it? Believe me, there aren’t many people in that club that would testify against Ken Kutchner. He is too rich and too powerful. He has too many friends in high places.”

“But… He has to be stopped!”

“People have tried.”

“Not hard enough!” Rhett couldn't keep his voice steady.

“People have died. Rhett, boy, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, here. Or with whom...” Fred put a hand on Rhett's shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

"But..." Rhett started, but couldn't go on. What could I say that Fred didn't already know? I'm just a boy, a fifteen year old boy. What do I know?

“But the important thing is that you’re safe now," Fred said in a reassuring tone of voice. "And I intend to keep you safe, too. Let’s go. Babylon is not far from here.”

”Okay,” Rhett said, feeling very small and inexperienced. 

"And if you take my advice, dear boy, make friends with some more experienced guy and let him teach you the ropes. Any gay boy needs a mentor," Fred chuckled with a twinkle in his eyes. "And now, let me take that role, for a few hours, tonight. Let's go to Babylon."

"Okay," Rhett said with new resolve. Fred's advice reminded him of his friends, Ronny and Wade. They were his mentors. He wasn't as inexperienced as Fred assumed.

I’ll take your advice, Fred Jones, he thought. For now, I’ll follow your lead, but in the club, I’ll find my own way.

*****

"Tell me something, Fred," Rhett demanded as he and Fred walked to Babylon. "Why did you come to my rescue? I mean, you don't know me. Why did you intervene if that Kutchner guy is as powerful and dangerous as you say?"

"I didn't actually come to your rescue; that effect is simply a by-product. My goal was to ruin Kutchner's plans for the weekend."

Rhett swallowed. "The weekend?"

"You didn't think he was buying your services for a few hours, did you?"

"The weekend?"

"At least. More like for a week or two. Kutchner enjoys his chickens well done and tender, so to speak. When he kicks them out they are perfectly broken to become Montgomery's rent boys."

"Rent boys?" Rhett remembered hearing the term recently, but couldn't recall the context.

"Montgomery is a pimp.”

“A pimp? But…?”

“I see you're familiar with the term.” Fred smiled crookedly. “Not all the whores are female, Rhett. Montgomery runs a shady business of selling the services of a bunch of young, male whores: his rent boys." 

Rhett had known what Tanner wanted from him, but his knowing had been of a hazy kind. He hadn't wanted to put the fragments of thoughts together, into a clear-cut mental image. He still didn't want to. The incident in the cubicle was too close, his memories too raw. Concentrating fiercely on the needs of the present, he had prevented the frightening memories from surfacing. Fred's words burst the bubble. The picture became frighteningly clear. "I see..." he said.

Rhett's wildly churning thoughts affected his walking. He got slower, he staggered a couple of times, and his feet took him from one side of the sidewalk to the other in an errant, zigzag pattern. Soon, there was a sizable cap between him and his companion. Noticing that, Fred turned back and with a few hurried steps was at the boy's side. "Rhett?" he asked in a worried tone, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Rhett shivered and looked at Fred like he had never seen him before. "What do you want from me?" he whispered.

"I want nothing from you, Rhett. I'm no pimp, I promise. I'm not looking for boys to sell to the Kutchners of this world. My interest in you springs solely from the fact that I hate Ken Kutchner."

"Why?"

"The bastard fucking infected me," Fred pushed out between his tightly clenched teeth.

"He did... What?"

"What do you think? That he gave me a bad case of flu?" Fred said in a mocking tone; then he palmed his face and took a deep breath. "Sorry, Rhett. I'm angry, but I shouldn't take it out on you. Because of him, I'm HIV positive."

"HIV?" Rhett swallowed. Oh, God! Did he save me from HIV and AIDS, too?!  

"You got it," Fred said bitterly.

"I'm sorry," Rhett said, keenly feeling the inadequacy of the words.

"Shit happens." Fred waved a hand. "But, consequently, Kutchner doesn't frighten me anymore. How could he, now? He has already killed me; how could anything he did top that?"

Rhett came up with some rather unpleasant options, but he didn't voice them. In comparison to the facts Fred told him, notions such as "Kutchner could harm your family" or "he could get your accounts frozen" seemed like something that could happen in a cheap TV-show. "I understand," he ended up saying.

For a while, the conversation dwindled, but before the club was in their sight, Rhett came up with another question.

"Fred," he called with a slight hesitation. "I've been wondering about something. You being an older guy... Uh... I don't mean that you're old, but..." Rhett shut up. He was just digging himself deeper into the hole.

Fred chuckled. "I'm older than you, that's an obvious fact, so your choice of words doesn't offend me. Go on."

"It's about Kinney..."

"Of course it is," Fred muttered inaudibly. "Some things never change."

Rhett saw an odd grin flash on the older man’s face. “What did you say?" he asked.

"Nothing. Sorry. Go on:  ask your question about Kinney."

"You see, I just recently learned that he is the legendary former stud, the one that held the title for over a decade. I was wondering what it was like, with one man being the stud for so long. Was it very... different from now? Were you here, in Pittsburgh, at that time? I mean, did you see him in action?"

"Yes, for both of your questions: I was here and I did see him in action."

"Were you one of...?" Rhett started but didn't have the nerve to finish the sentence.

“One of his tricks? No. Thank God, I didn’t meet his standards.”

“You’re glad? How so? Didn’t you want him?”

“Hell, yes. He was the most attractive bastard around, but if he ever had fucked me, it would’ve been the end of my dreams, and me,” Fred said with a little, reminiscent smile.

“But… I don’t understand. If he was such a great fuck, and everyone seems to think that he was, why would you say that?” In Rhett's opinion, Fred was contradicting himself.

Fred seemed a bit distracted but answered anyway. “To understand, you’d need to have known Brian back then,” he said.

“Did you know him?! Really know him?” Rhett was excited. “What was he like? Was he such a bastard as…?”

Fred jerked out of his thoughts and turned to look at Rhett. “Damn!" he mumbled. "No, I didn't know Kinney any better than an average Joe. What gave you such an idea?"

"The way you called him by the first name..." Rhett wondered why his companion seemed a bit disgusted. "I just got the feeling of... I don't know... of like he was family or something."

“Well, he sort of is: a part of my Liberty Avenue family. I feel close to all people here, to a certain degree. But no. I didn’t know Kinney, not him, not the man. I knew the stud. Everybody did. What I meant to say was that to understand why I didn't want to fuck him you’d need to know what kind of a stud he was and some things about the people involved with him.”

Despite Rhett's keen interest in the legend of the Stud, Fred's answer only slightly disappointed the boy. It didn't really matter that he couldn't get more intimate information about Kinney. He didn't need it for anything. Kinney wasn't an active player anymore, and Rhett's interest was based on mere curiosity.

“Do you mean his policy not to fuck anyone more than once?” he asked Fred.

“Somebody told you about that?" the man chuckled. "That’s a part of it, yes. I didn’t want to be one of his rejects. Some people didn’t mind, but to me it would’ve been a hard thing to live with.”

“Ah… Why? Were you…?”

“Was I in love with Brian Kinney?” Fred burst out laughing. “No! That’s not it. Some men fell for him, but not me. No, it was about expectations: what I wanted and what he wanted were as far apart as planets. I wasn’t looking for a mindless fuck with a stranger, and that was all that he wanted from a trick.”

“Okay, I get that. But, you said that it was just a part of the reason why you didn't want to fuck him. There was something else?”

“Yes. The more important reason: I fell for Kinney's best friend.”

“Oh… I see.”

“Yeah. I don’t think it would’ve improved my chances with Michael if Brian had fucked me.”

“Are you and this guy…?”

“Michael. No, it never happened. He had a huge crush on his best friend and never even noticed me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t bother, boy,” Fred laughed amiably. “It was many years ago. My crush on Michael died of a natural cause: I fell for another guy.”

Rhett laughed, too. “What happened with his crush on Kinney? Did he get the man?”

“I don’t know what happened with his crush on Brian – maybe Michael is still in love with him – but he did get a man. After several years of pining for his best friend, Michael fell in love with one of his best friend’s rejects.”

“You got to be kidding!”

“It's no joke. Ask anyone!” With an expression of mock seriousness, Fred put a hand over his heart. "Considering the number of Kinney's tricks, what other choice did he have?"

Rhett found it hard to believe, but truth often is stranger than fiction so, maybe, it really happened as Fred said. "I hope you found one of the rare exceptions to the rule," he laughed.

"I was lucky enough to find such a man, thank you." Fred laughed, too.

”And Kinney?” Rhett returned to his original subject of interest. “Was he in love with his friend?”

“I don’t think so, no," Fred said firmly. "If Brian Kinney has ever loved anyone it wasn’t his best friend.”

“Wasn’t?”

“During the last few years of his time as the stud, he had a fuck buddy of some kind, but the guy moved out of town. Since then no name has been attached to Kinney’s.”

“He had a what? What did you call him? Fuck buddy? What is that? Some kind of a boyfriend? And... He was with this guy at the same time as he was the stud? How would that work?”

Fred chuckled at Rhett's sudden flood of questions. “I haven’t got a clue," he answered to the last one. "It was a strange relationship. But, I’ve got a hunch that it didn’t work very well, since the guy left and never came back.”

"What was he like?"

"Justin? He was a nice kid."

"A kid?"

"That's what was so strange about it: Justin was nothing but a kid. Kinney's twink he was called. Kinney was about thirty when they became an item; the lad was about ten years younger. Kinney had never shown any interest in getting involved with anyone, and then, all of a sudden, he is repeatedly seen with that adolescent boy. What made him so special? I have no idea."

"I couldn't imagine being with someone that much older," Rhett thought out loud, then he blushed. "I mean..."

"Don't worry. I know exactly what you mean. Most people found it very disagreeable, disturbing even, you know, that there was such a wide gap between their ages. The consensus around Liberty Avenue was that Kinney's twink wasn't old enough to be exposed to all the aspects of the life of a gay man like Kinney."

"I wasn't thinking about that," Rhett said. "Not at all. I just don't think that there would be much of anything I could share with a guy that is so much older than me."

"With a guy like me?" Fred chimed in.

"Well... Kind of." Rhett grimaced. "You are about my dad's age, and he can't stand the music I listen to, he has no interest in my favorite films, he finds the TV-shows I follow too childish for his taste, he thinks that Facebook and Twitter are stupid and that the time I spend with my PlayStation is wasted in nonsense, and he hates my friends. He doesn't like even my favorite foods. There's nothing we can do together. Would it be any different with you?"

"It could be, but maybe not. Most likely, you'd hate the music I listen to, you'd find my favorite movies boring, the TV-shows that have me hooked would have too much adult themes for your taste, my expectations of privacy and quiet for the duration of the endless phone calls I would have with my friends would drive you nuts, you wouldn't understand why I waste so much time reading books, and you would find my friends boring, old farts. And, for sure, you wouldn't enjoy the healthy diet I absolutely need, to keep in shape. How could you have anything in common with an old fart like me?"

How indeed? Rhett blushed. The way Fred put it together, showed him the flaw in his thinking.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't think that you're an old fart..."

"Maybe you don't, but for certain, you think that your father is one." 

Rhett nodded in thought. "I get it. You're saying that I should meet him in the middle ground instead of expecting him to come to my side of the field."

"That's the way it works in every relationship: between a child and a parent, between you and your friends, and between any two people in love with each other. You better learn the trick real quick." Fred smiled as he looked at Rhett. "Who knows? The middle ground might surprise both you and your father if you give it a chance."

Rhett was lost in his thoughts for the rest of the way to the club.

*****

When Rhett and Fred arrived at Babylon the evening was turning into night. In front of the building, the pavement was crowded with people that more or less patiently were waiting for their turn to enter. Without a hint of hesitation, Fred walked right through the crowd and confidently greeted the bouncer.

"Hello, Henry!" he called, apparently knowing the man well. "How's the night?"

"Hi, b..." Henry stopped to clear his throat. ”Sorry. Hi, Fred. It's a full house, as usual. Is he with you?" Henry turned to nod at Rhett.

"Rhett here? Yes. Let's step aside for a moment. We need your help with something. The boy ran afoul of Kutchner and one of his tail-lickers earlier tonight."

As soon as Fred told Henry about Rhett's encounter with Tanner and Mr. Kutchner they were allowed into the club. Inside, Fred oozed the same air of self-confidence as with the bouncer. He walked through the crowd giving a smile here, a word there: like he owned the place, Rhett thought. He wondered if he ever would feel as confident as Fred.

The man led Rhett through a lobby much like its counterpart in BoyToy. The same atmosphere of excitement and anticipation seemed to permeate the walls in both places. The atmosphere was also infectious: Rhett was positively feeling giddy.

As they left their coats to the care of a young man at the coat check, Fred made sure that Rhett got a ticket, too. Rhett smiled his heartfelt thanks. Apparently, Fred was nothing like the jerk, Tanner.

Soon, Rhett found himself in the main room of the club. Equipped with the experience of the other club, he wasn't completely overwhelmed, but he came close. BoyToy was a big place; Babylon was huge. From the entrance, Rhett couldn't see the other end of the room. Adding to his challenge in getting a sense of the place was the fact that the interior was three dimensional. The back of the room was hidden from Rhett's curious eyes by a number of raised podiums where scantily clad dancers showed off their assets, and at both sides, Rhett saw stairs leading to the balconies the railings of which glistened in the murky recesses above the dance floor.

From where Rhett was standing, it seemed that the bottom floor was one huge dance floor, and it was packed with people. Some were women, some were men, but all of them were older than Rhett. In BoyToy, he felt like he was one of the guys. Here, he was feeling like someone's baby brother: a youngster in need of a babysitter. Music blaring out of the loudspeakers was similar to what he heard in BoyToy. It had the same hypnotic, repetitive rhythm to which he could dance forever and ever. Rhett wondered if he would find the courage to wander among the dancers. He wanted to, but what would the people think of a kid like him?

Rhett soon noticed that the dance floor at the bottom floor wasn't the only one. On the balconies, there seemed to be smaller dance floors, for different tastes in music, maybe. From afar, it was impossible to tell for sure, but Rhett assumed that the differences in lighting and decor indicated areas designed for differing activities. What those activities might be he couldn't even guess, but it didn't stop him from imagining some rather wild things taking place.

Comparing the two clubs, Babylon and BoyToy, Rhett understood that Mr. Kinney's place was meant for more developed tastes than Mr. Randolph's. The atmosphere in Kinney's place, without doubt, would titillate even the most demanding tastes, and the entertainment made available would satisfy a much more diverse clientele than that of BoyToy.

"Tag along, Rhett," Fred raised his voice above the hubbub, startling Rhett out of his musings. "I'll introduce you to the bartenders so they'll know why you're here tonight and you'll be able to order something to drink."

They walked through the crowd milling about the busy bar beside the main dance floor.

"Thirsty?" Fred asked after the introductions, turning to Rhett. "I could order you a drink, a non-alcoholic one, mind. I don't want to cause trouble to Wayne, here."

"Okay, thanks," Rhett said, but remembered then the lesson learned and hurried to add, "but I'll pay for it myself."

"That's wise of you. You wouldn't want to owe money to a perfect stranger," Fred readily agreed. "What would you want? A Red Bull?"

"Okay."

Afterwards, a bottle of frosty beer in his hand, Fred was leading Rhett towards an area where there were tables when he suddenly stopped. "What am I thinking?" He shook his head. "I guess, you'd enjoy dancing more than keeping me company," he went on, grinning.

"I..." Rhett started hesitantly. Of course, Fred said exactly what Rhett had been thinking, but how could he leave without seeming unappreciative of Fred's invaluable help? On the other hand, a young, hot man dancing nearby was staring at him with obvious interest. The hot stuff had an inviting smile if Rhett had ever seen one.

"Go ahead; I don't mind," Fred laughed. "Give me your drink: I'll take it to the table there," he pointed with a hand. "You won't need it on the dance floor, but afterwards, you'll find it more than tasty."

With a happy grin, Rhett handed the can to Fred and joined the writhing mass of dancers.

*****  

Rhett didn't dance alone for long. The man with the inviting smile joined him, and soon others noticed the newbie, too. The men tried to steer the boy towards the center of the floor, but Rhett resisted their attempts. He wanted to keep Fred's table and Wayne's bar in sight. Once bitten, twice shy, he was unwilling to wander far from his two anchors in the unfamiliar place and among complete strangers.

Even though his dance partners in Babylon were somewhat older than those he danced with in BoyToy and therefore he was afraid that they would have expectations far from his comfort zone, he found the most of them content with just dancing with him. In addition, there seemed to be a couple of men that made the effort to keep him safe. Some guys offered to show him the "backroom", whatever that was, and some others suggested activities he had never heard about before, but such guys were few and far between, and before he had time to get nervous, his keepers showed up and told the guy to "fuck off".

Feeling safe enough, Rhett danced like there was no tomorrow. The heart-beat-rhythm energized him, the attention of the men surrounding him made his head spin, and the warm, sweaty bodies against his own did wonderful things to his nether regions. Rhett didn't want to stop, but after awhile, he had to draw back from his admirers and find his way to Fred's table. As the man predicted earlier, Rhett was more than happy to gulp down the now pocket-warm drink.

"Thank you, Fred," he said, saluting the man with the emptied can before he put it on the table top. "You aren't dancing," he ventured to comment as the man smiled at him.

"No, not anymore. I don't want to dance alone, and there aren't a lot of guys my age here."

"You could dance with me," Rhett said.

"Thank you, but I think I'll pass your kind offer. I would just frighten away all your admirers," Fred answered, grinning widely.

Rhett grinned, too. He hadn't really wanted Fred to join him. He was just being polite. "It's a shame that there aren't dance partners that would match your taste in men," he just said.

"Well... I was never any good at it, anyway, so no big deal."

For a moment, Rhett watched the dancers, thinking about Ronny and Wade. They would give anything to be here with me. Hell, for a change, they would give anything to be me!

It’s too noisy here to make a call, but I should send them a message. But, they wouldn't believe me. They would never believe that guys such as Paul and Dale and that red head and so many others would want to dance with me.

The men were beaconing from the dance floor, wanting him to come back. Smiling widely, Rhett waved back but turned to Fred who was talking with some guy.

Fred knows a lot of people here, and he knows the personnel, too. He is sitting alone, but people stop to speak with him all the time. Still, he is a lot older than most people that come here. I wonder...

"Tell me, Fred, would you?" he said as Fred's acquaintance left. "If the guys your age don't come here where do they go? I mean, I have never heard of a club..."

"That would cater to the aging gay people? There are places, and some of them you might call clubs, but in general, the so-called club scene is for young people."

"I'm too young and you're a bit too old?"

"That's it. You'd need a couple of years more, and I'd need a couple of years less."

"From about 17 or 18 up to what? 30? 40?"

"After the 30th birthday things start to change. Most guys stop coming here before they turn 35. Or at least they come here only for some special occasion, like tonight."

"I see." Rhett took a moment to think. "What do you mean when you say that things change?" he asked.

"In your 20s, you're young and free and sexually in your prime. Also your looks, your sex-appeal, is at its peak during that decade. You're a sought after partner for casual sex, you're an interesting unknown and therefore, a possible life partner, and you're still excited by new things. You'll love to have crowds of similar, young people around you.

"In your 30s, you'll no longer be a part of such a crowd. You'll no longer be a youth: you'll be a mature man. Your hairline starts to recede, your middle starts to extend, and crowsfeet start to appear at the corners of your eyes. You'll lose your admirers to the younger men. It doesn't really bother you. You've become jaded: there are few things and few men that excite you anymore. Adventures and escapades are for younger men. You look for something else to keep you satisfied: a partner. Your potential as a partner is well known, and if you're still without a partner, there must be something wrong with you. You're supposed to have a steady job and a partner that satisfies you, sexually and in other aspects of your life. Youngsters find you and your settled ways boring, but you wouldn't have it any other way."

"Really?"

"No." Fred cast a look at the bar and greeted someone there. "The real life is more complicated, of course, but that is what is supposed to happen to you, what is supposed to take place in your life. Whether it does or not is irrelevant: you'll find that as you get older the expectations people have about your life will change. People change their attitudes according to their ever changing expectations."

"I guess..."

"But, your admirers are throwing dagger-shaped gazes at me," Fred said in mock fright. "I think it would be the safest for me if I let you go back to them now."

"I guess I'd better go. I wouldn't want any harm to come to you because of me," Rhett answered in kind.

"I'm going to get another drink; I could get a drink for you, too, at the same time."

"I'll come with you." Rhett wasn't going to let even Fred pay for him. "My so-called admirers can wait another ten minutes."

"Let's go then."

Getting the drinks took longer than Rhett assumed, but soon enough he got to the dance floor again, and as before, Fred was nursing his drink at the table. They kept to that pattern. Compared to going from the dance floor to the bar to get a drink, Rhett preferred to have one waiting at the table. The queues at the bars were long.

Rhett enjoyed every minute of the night. He didn't turn into a skilled dancer in those few hours, but hour by hour, he gained more self-confidence. Every passing hour made him feel a bit less overwhelmed and a bit more like he belonged there. He was living a dream.

*****

The night of Rhett's friends Wade and Ronny had not taken a turn into better. They had tried to talk their way into Babylon, but apparently their tongues did not possess the necessary slickness. The bouncers had turned them back from the door without any regard to the fact that they had been freezing their butts in the queue for the better part of an hour.

After that disappointment there had been little choice left. Of course, there were more clubs, for example Meathook, Maneuvers in the Dark and Backstage, but the boys knew better and kept away from those. On one hand, it was more than a little unlikely that they would get in. On the other, they didn't even want to get in. Those places were dangerous for twinks like them. A friend of theirs had been taken to a party in Backstage by some guy he barely knew. Poor Marty had been drugged out of his wits and then gangbanged. After three weeks, he was still in hospital, in the psychiatric ward. 

So, the clubs were out of the question. The boys needed to find a place that would welcome boys their age and, in addition, would be safe. As late in the night as it was, only two places qualified. The first was the Liberty Diner, the only diner that was open through the night, but they didn't want to return there. The diner was a good place to start a night, but only really young boys would spend the whole night there. Ronny and Wade considered themselves past that phase. They were no kids.

The other place was a bar. Of course there were several bars on Liberty Avenue, but excepting one, boys their age were not welcomed as customers. To serve alcohol to minors meant court trouble, and the bars did their best to avoid the attention of officials. The exception to the rule was a place called Yellow Lantern. The bar was favored by nobody. It was a tiny place, and unfortunately situated in an alley leading nowhere. The interior was shabby, showing the signs of years of negligence. The owner, a fellow called Stag, didn't card the customers. He was happy to get any. The money of youngsters paid the bills as well as the money of grown men.

Left without a decent choice, Ronny and Wade walked to Yellow Lantern. Soon they stood before Stag, placing their orders. The man didn't blink an eye. He just took several bottles from his old fridge, poured the beers in huge pitchers of the German style and, as soon as the money changed hands, the owner shooed the boys away from the counter. They took a table by the only window. The glass was dirty, and outside there was nothing to see, but the boys felt a bit less claustrophobic sitting by a way out.

They were not the only customers. At a back table, two guys about their age were talking quietly, and an older man was sitting by the bar, talking with Stag. None of them paid any attention to Ronny and Wade.

"What a splendid Halloween this turned out to be," Wade sighed, brushing his finger along the rim of his pitcher.

"Yeah." Ronny took a sip of the beer and grimaced. The beverage was not very good. "I can't understand this. Usually, getting into BoyToy doesn't give us any trouble, and from what Leonard and Toby keep telling us, it's not that difficult to get into Babylon, either. Why are we here?"

"It's like there was a curse on us, or something," Wade muttered.

Ronny snorted. "You and your superstitions. What do you think we did? Offend some fairy, maybe?"

"Don't laugh!" Wade wanted to slap the snide grin from Ronny's face. "Why couldn't there be someone, a spirit or something, who for some reason or other, doesn't want us in the clubs? Spirits are everywhere."

"But not in this sty since we are here. Or... Wait! Maybe this was your spirit's plan from the very start," Ronny said in his best imitation of some bad actor. "It wanted us to come here!"

"Stop making fun of me!" Without a conscious thought, Wade took a firm grip of his pitcher.

Ronny chose not to heed the first sign of storm building inside his friend. "And what about Rhett?" he taunted. "But, of course! The spirit wanted him, not us. It has taken Rhett away from us, imprisoned him into the high tower of Babylon!"

"Oh, shut up, you moron!" Wade raised a hand, only noticing the big pitcher that rose with it when some of the beer splattered on his hand and on the table. The pitcher went back on the table top with a thud. "Fuck!" the boy shouted sending drops flying everywhere from his wet hand.

Ronny laughed. "What are you doing? Giving a share of your beer to the spirit? Do you think that it'll give Rhett back if you get it drunk?"

"Don't play with the things you understand nothing about," Wade hissed. "It may well be that some spirit has jinxed Liberty Avenue. It's All Hollow’s Eve: the night when the spirit realm and the living realm come closest together. Don't underestimate the powers that are at large tonight."

"Wade, pal, calm down! I'm just pulling your leg; you know it. Take your head out of your ass already." Ronny had had his fun and it was time to pour some oil on the waves. "Wady-Wade, my man, you're really a nice guy, but I wish your mother had never found that group of witches. You'd better stop listening to her nonsense. That belief system may have had some merit in the times before modern science, but there is no scientific evidence of spirits. You know that as well as I do."

"You don't know anything," Wade said in frustrated tones as Ronny had known he would do. Their several former bickerings had taught Ronny that he needed just to mention modern science and Wade would find nothing to say.

In morose thoughts, Wade looked at the other two young men sitting there, at the back table. "Do you think they are here for the same reason as we are?" he awkwardly changed the topic.

"Now, how would I know that?" Ronny asked with a mellow smile. "Maybe they are lovers that find no other place where they can be together."

"Moron," Wade said with the first dawning of a smile.

"It's possible. People fall in love, you know." Ronny grinned and took out his phone, dialing. After a moment, he shook his head. "Still out of reach."

"Do you think that happened to Rhett? That he found some guy and fell in love? Tonight?"

"It would explain why he turned off his cell. I bet he's tucked somewhere with his beau and doesn't want to be disturbed."

"We'll hear all about it tomorrow."

Wade was smiling openly again, and Ronny grinned back. "To tomorrow," he said, raising his pitcher.

Wade raised his and took a sip. "But this night sucks; there's no denying the fact," he said.

"At least the beer is cold." Ronny put the big glass on the table top, shaking his fingers.

"True. Stag may run a place from hell, but he's got a frigging cold refrigerator," Wade laughed.

The boys emptied a few more cold bottles from Stag's storage and, in the wee hours of the night, found their unsteady way to Ronny's and crashed there.

*****

"Fred, look!" Rhett pointed a hand somewhat towards the dance floor where people were dancing in a pouring rain of glistening confetti; then the floor buckled under his feet. "Pretty," he said as he swayed towards Fred.

Glancing at the hand grasping his shoulder, Fred commented dryly, "Very pretty."

As soon as Rhett righted himself, Fred took the can of Red Bull he had kept an eye on for the past thirty minutes and handed it to Rhett. "Here's your drink. Drink it up; you seem a bit dehydrated."

Greedily, Rhett took the can and lifted it to his lips. He didn't quite manage that, though. Instead, the can came in contact with his nose, and some of the content splashed onto his face. The sudden wetness startled Rhett; he looked at the can as if it had bitten him.

"What's the matter, boy?" Fred asked as Rhett swiped off the sweet liquid with the back of his hand. "Has the dancing taken all your strength?"

"No-p." Rhett shook his head. "It was zz...just and ac-ik... Aczhi...shident. An aczhident. It was an ac-ci-dent."

What's the matter with me? Rhett asked in his thoughts. It's so difficult to speak...

A man in a pair of yellow pants missing most of the seat area redirected not only Rhett's line of sight but also his line of thought. Those cheeks look nice...

"I see," Fred smiled. "Try to get the rest of your drink into your mouth, will you? That gooey mess doesn't look nice on your face."

Rhett brushed a finger along his cheek, and then stuck the finger in his mouth. "It's shtickhy," he said, startled. "Shweet, but shtichky." He tried again, this time managing to get the drink into his mouth.

"Maybe, it's not such a bad thing that you've got the sweet stuff on your cheek. Somebody might like to lick it from your face," Fred suggested with a devilish smirk.

"Arman might." Cross-eyed, Rhett tried to locate the red-head with whom he had been dancing for the better part of the night.

"Go, get your man," Fred laughed. "I'll get you another of those." He pointed a finger at the empty can of energy drink Rhett had just set on the table. A couple of cans ago, Rhett had stopped insisting on paying for his drinks.

With a wave of his hand, the boy was gone for another twenty minutes or so. Fred went to the bar.

"Another?" Wayne asked as he appeared at the counter.

"Yes, and one more ice tea for me," Fred said with a grin. "And a glass of water."

"Water? Or 'water'?"

"What do you think?" Fred said with an evil smirk.

"Coming up, sir!" Wayne's smirk was equally evil.

At the table, Fred emptied his glass of the amber colored drink; then he poured a portion of the Red Bull into the glass and refilled the can with the 'water'. A moment later a waiter whisked away the two glasses.

*****

Rhett was dancing with his red-headed crush. The rhythm of the music was quick, but there was nothing quick about his moves. Following his partner's lead, he tried to gyrate his hips, but that was a mistake. He almost fell: his hips went to one direction, his knees to another, and his feet were stuck in place. The feet were so heavy, he couldn't move them. It felt like the floor had turned into a sand dune, and every step he took seemed to suck him deeper into the sand. All he could do was to shake his head and shoulders. His arms hung there, at his side, moving without control. He had forgotten that he could actually do something with them.

It was so hard to think. The lights above were slicing through the dimness like thunderbolts, making it hard to see and even harder to understand what he was seeing. In a sudden torrent of red light, he lost sight of Arman for a moment. As the light turned away, Arman found him and pulled him against his chest, laughing.

Rhett didn't mind the laughter. He rested his heavy head against Arman's shoulder and closed his eyes. The lights were too bright.

*****

Blinking his eyes, Rhett found himself standing still in the middle of dancing people. He was alone.

Where did Arman go? And when? he wondered. Did he say something? I don't remember.

He turned to look at Fred's table and was happy to find the table still there.

When did I have something to drink? Has it been awhile? I'm thirsty, I think.

Rhett started to walk towards the table, but for some reason, his feet took him way off course. Instead of the table, he was heading to the bar. As hard as he tried to take control, his legs didn't cooperate. The people that kept stepping into his way didn't help, either. He tried to walk around them, but apparently, they found it funny to keep bumping into him. He didn't find it funny; he was getting angry.

"Rhett?" someone said, taking him by the arm.

Alarmed, he squinted at the man that, so suddenly, from behind, had stopped him. The face in front of him swam between the beams of light, hidden in the shadows. The hair was dark, but did he know the man? "Who?" he pushed out.

"Oh, dear. Come on, Rhett; it's me. Now, let's get out of here."

"Can't. I nee-aed to go to Fled, there," he waved a hand towards the door out, "at 'is table. He'sh got my hdrink. I nee-ed to hdrink: I'm de-hydratadad."

"I really doubt that, pal. Anyway, as you see; Fred isn't there anymore. Come with me now."

Rhett didn't quite understand what the guy wanted, but why not? "Okay," he said.

Rhett followed the friendly back. It was a nice back, a nice gray back, in a nice gray shirt. Very nice shirt. It felt soft against his cheek.

"Rhett?"

Did someone talk to him? The voices were coming from a galaxy far, far away.

"Rhett, wake up; I'm not a pillow."

"Rhude," he commented on the hands that were shaking him.

"Get a grip, now, boy! Try to keep on your feet," the person with rude hands said. "You wanted to see the back room, remember? I won't carry you in my arms over the threshold like some fucking bride."

Back room? What back room? It was a nice back, soft. Why does it need room? Rhett wondered in the privacy of his thoughts.

While Rhett's brains worked on the mystery of back room, his legs took off. Since they decided to follow Rude-hand, so did the rest of him. Suddenly, something glistening appeared in his path, startling him out of thought. In a vague sense of alarm, he tried to avoid colliding with the thing, but it was too late. As he finally came to a stop, the first contact was over. The thing felt cold, yieldy and liana-like as strands of it moved aside a bit at his touch, but that was just the first impression. Next thing, the strands swung back, with a vengeance. The liana-like things struck Rhett at his shoulders and arms, making him wince. "Outch!" he complained and tried to push the heavy and clingy strands away from his body. It didn't help at all: the strands just swung back and struck at him again.

A hand appeared from somewhere, took Rhett by the arm, and pulled him out of the clutches of the evil liana-thing. In the clear, the boy shook himself, trying to get rid of the lingering feeling of being tangled in something alien. Then he took a look around, to no avail. It was too dark to see: the blue and black shadows in front of him didn't make any sense.

"Sorry, Rhett. I shouldn't have let the chains swing back at you. You didn't get struck in the face, did you?" the nearest black shadow said.

As before, he couldn't see the face, just a mop of dark hair, but from the sound of the voice, Rhett recognized Rude-hand. Again, the man had his hands on him. Pulling back, he tried to understand what the man meant. "Ch... chains?" he managed.

"At the doorway."

"Doorway?" Rhett didn't see any doors or doorways.

"Oh, boy. You're really out of it, aren't you?"

"Out?"

"Out like a yard lantern," Rude-hand chuckled. "Well. Since that was the idea, I shouldn't blame you, boy."

"Blame?" Was there a door to blame for being out?

"Don't worry about it. Now, we'll go down there, to the back wall."

"Wall?" Rhett looked around, but there were no walls, just shadows and shadows of shadows.

"Let's go. And don't bother with talking," Rude-hand took his hand again and pulled him forward. "People don't come here to talk."

Good, that he could do. "Okay," he said, happy again.

As they walked through the room, some of the blue shadows in front of Rhett started to make sense, and he took a closer look, intrigued. The shadows were men: in pairs, in threes, in fours. He saw cocks and butts. No, strike that! Actually, he was seeing bare cocks and bare butts everywhere!

"Fuck!" he breathed.

"Well, what did you think the back room is for?" Rude-hand laughed.

"Fuck!" Rhett repeated as he stumbled on over the foot of some guy.

"What the hell!" the owner of the leg exclaimed and turned to scowl at Rhett. "Watch where you go."

"Sh... sorry," Rhett said, but the fellow didn't listen.

The guy was staring at Rude-hand. "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in! Didn't expect to find you here."

"The trick or treat night; where else would I be?" Rude-hand laughed. "How is it going, Todd?"

Apparently friends that hadn't seen each other for awhile, Rude-hand and Todd prattled awhile, catching up. Rhett stood by, trying to follow, but as the discussion progressed to nowhere, the boy grew bored. After a moment, his eyes started to wander to the more interesting things in progress: the fucking.

A few feet away, his back towards Rhett, a guy was leaning against a pole while another was on his knees in front of him. Rhett didn't really see what the men were doing, but the submissive posture of the kneeling man made him feel awkward. He turned away, but it didn't help. Another couple, an even more disturbing one, came into view. Their positions made him think about dogs mating. Again, Rhett turned away, but there was no escape. Yet another scene attacked his sensibilities: a big fellow was ramming into a slender, young boy, grunting at every thrust, his face twisted in a grimace. Rhett couldn't see the boy's face -- was he enjoying it? How could he? Rhett winced as he imagined what it would feel like to be in the boy's place.

Rhett turned his attention back to Rude-hand and his friend. A bright blue lamp was right behind Rude-hand's head, casting a deep shadow on his face, but the other man was bathed in the light. He had a kind face.

"We're still the same people," Rude-hand was saying.

"Leopard and spots..." Todd grinned. "It's good to see so many old, familiar faces here tonight."

"Who are you calling old?"

The discussion was still boring. Rhett yawned. The discussion went on, but the boy didn't even try to listen anymore.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his hip, and for some reason, the floor was at the level with his face.

Why are all these people upside down? Rhett thought. And, why do they have four legs...

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