SOME GUYS NEED A WARNING LABEL

Excerpt from the novel THE PRICE OF DICK By DAN SKINNER
Buy Link:  www.amazon.com/Price-Dick-Dan-…

The next day I slept in late. I’d thought I’d set the alarm. I hadn’t. Perry and Anthony had slept in as well. When I awakened, the two of them were still buried in their sheets and pillows. Dick’s bunk was empty. His clothes were also gone. As I stumbled to the too-bright kitchen to start some coffee, I saw that he was nowhere in the bunkhouse. I glanced out each window and could see no trace of him in any direction. That was curious. Where could he disappear to in a landscape that provided nowhere to hide?

Half an hour later as I got breakfast cooked and on the table, and the two other models had joined me in the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of the wayward cowboy-wannabe tromping his way along the gravel road from the direction of the farmhouse and horse barn. His hands were tucked deep in his pockets. He wore an intense expression. He didn’t need to voice it. I knew he was out there living in the Wild West world of his mind. In my own dream life I’d be rich, own a penthouse in New York City overlooking Central Park, and never have to worry about money again. I couldn’t even imagine someone fantasizing about living in the boonies, isolated from humanity, stepping in horse and barnyard shit every day and working their ass off dawn to dusk. That took a special kind of crazy. Dick’s kind of crazy.

He joined us at the breakfast table, looking macho with his growing scruff of deep black stubble on his cheeks and chin. Perry and Anthony stared at him as though bewitched, feeling victorious at attaining the unattainable. It made them want more. No one was ever satisfied with a small taste of a rare treat. I’d use that for some more smoldering scenes: some vignettes in the barn, in the open fields behind hay bales, and in the cab of a tractor. Later in the evening I’d use the bunkhouse itself. I’d brought two oil lamps that would lend a turn of the century feel to the shoot. They didn’t know it, but they were about to endure eight solid hours of prick tease and foreplay by way of a photo shoot.

It was arduous but fulfilling work. I’d never taken so many spectacular photographs. Each time Dick and I worked as a team I felt like we were raising personal bars on our creativity. When I realized my own work visually entranced me, I knew I was achieving a new level of artistry. I was proud of myself. I was proud of us. This type of work would have never been possible without his input and approach. He brought out something unique in every model who worked with us. Artistically and sexually.

Yes, the guys fucked and sucked their way through the entire three days, but it was the sublime moments I caught in between the carnal bits that made the process invaluable. You don’t get physical responses like these from models who didn’t know each other. They needed to bond, become intimate. The body language then became something different. Moments of genius accidentally discovered in reality.

On the last day, the contented smiles from Anthony and Perry were not just for a job well done, but because they felt victorious. They’d both been fucked by a ‘straight’ man. Dick had, in fact, nearly broken Anthony’s bunk when he plowed the young man’s very white, very small ass. They got lost in the momentum and in the rigorous rhythm had split one of the bed slats. After dragging the mattress to the floor, they finished the sweat-drenched encounter. Then Perry took over. By the time it was done, the boy’s cheeks had a much more vivid rosy color. We repaired the bed as best we could. I’d make an excuse to explain what happened to our host and offer to pay for damages. I knew a man of his means wouldn’t accept, but it was the courtesy of gentlemen.

As we packed up the car, I was head-dead. I couldn’t think of another thing to shoot or anything we possibly could have forgotten. We’d covered all the possibilities. All I could contemplate was my soft sofa in the apartment, cool sheets over my head and sleeping nonstop for an entire day. Dick would drive. I didn’t have the wherewithal required to perform even that mundane task.

I had to return the box of props Willie had loaned to us for the shoot. Just as evening approached, Dick drove us back to the farmhouse. We saw the elderly man at his usual post in the chair on the porch. He was drinking from a half-filled glass of milk. He lifted a gnarled hand to wave.

I retrieved the box of props from the trunk and carried it up the stairs toward him. He rose. It was a painful motion for him. He held stiffly to the back of his chair and pushed himself into an upright position to grab a cane hooked behind it. He straightened, turned and opened the screen door to the house and gestured me inside.  I heard him shuffle in behind me slowly, the screen door slap shut.

I looked back to inquire where to set the box, and I froze at the seriousness in his gaze.

“I need to say something to you, J.J. Privately.” He cast a glance at the door to make certain we were alone. Then those humorless eyes were on me again.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, concern blooming inside me. My first thought was that something had happened to Tina, his daughter.

The cane brought him two steps closer to me so he could speak in a hushed tone. “It’s that young fellow that came up here with you. What’s his name Richard? Dick? Is he a close friend of yours?”

My heart did an unexpected flip-flop against my breastbone. What was this about, I wondered? “He’s my roommate,” I answered. I’d almost said business partner as well, but held back. Something in the timbre of his voice filled me with apprehension.

“Is he right in the head?” Willie said it with such gravity that my tongue felt paralyzed. “I mean, do you think he’s trustworthy?”

My brain was putting two and two together. I suddenly knew where Dick had vanished to yesterday morning.

“He was up here to see me yesterday morning. I just came out to have my morning coffee. And there he was sitting on my stoop like he was waiting for me.”

I sat the box on the table and used my hand to wipe away the sweat I felt pop on my forehead. All of this felt like an eerie film. The type I don’t like to watch.

The scratch of Willie’s cane brought him a foot closer to me. I could see the dried milk over his moustache. “I’m not going into the whys and wherefores of what happened with this young man because I’m a gentleman, and think of you as a friend.” His eyes flinched a little as he held back that secret. “But I’m gonna do what I think is a favor to you and share something from the wisdom I've gained while living on this planet for some seventy years; that you need to find a path to walk that this young man is not on. You need to find some separation from this...this...” he was holding back words that I could only guess at. “From him as soon as possible and never look back.”

It felt as though roiling poison had flooded my stomach. My imagination couldn’t even fathom what could have possibly happened between the two of them to bring this warning from the old man.

He went on. “In my day, we knew people like him and had a name for them. Flimflam men. He’s got the looks and the slick tongue and he can spin a mighty tale for you, but he’s got nothing but snake oil in his suitcase. I’ve dealt with more than my fair share of them and I’ve seen them in all shapes and sizes, but nothing like this,” he held his tongue again from releasing what I was sure would be a curse word. I tried to say something, but couldn’t get anything out but his name. He stopped me there.

“No good can come to you in the company of someone like him.” He shook his head and glanced back at the screen door. “This is a private conversation between you and me. As friends. But if you got your life messed up with his, you’d best unmess it directly and get a good safe distance away. His type of people don’t improve with age. Their bad deeds just get more clever. And the more clever they get, the worse it gets for you. They make you think you’re a friend, but to them you’re just another stone to step on to cross the pond.”

I heard the car horn honk. It roused me from the dread I felt.

He nodded, moved to the side to open my path back to the door. “There are some people on this earth that do nothing but lie to and use other people. They roam door-to-door looking for those who will believe their lies and buy what they’re selling.” He touched my arm, “Keep your hands in your pocket on this one, J.J. Walk away, or better yet, run!”

The second honk from the car drew me quickly back outside. I think we both bid goodbye to each other, but in all honesty, I can’t remember.

 

 

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