Erotica Harem

Please don’t ‘read between the lines’ with my comments. I say what I think free of insinuations. I am a retired martial artist and retired police officer, thus I look at things differently.

I dislike the rating system. If required to do so to submit a review, be advised that I rate conservatively. I am direct but always respectful.

This is one person’s opinion. Keep writing and always have fun!


Title: Pretty Boy Dead

Chapter: 28

Author: Jon

Plot: Reporter Calvin Slade goes to the dancing bar to buy info.

Style & Voice: 3rd person via Slade and the author. SMIRK

Referencing: Consistent

Scene/Setting: The bar; private room

Characterization: Good. I'd like to know more about the dancer: tight ass, boned?; tatoos (maybe a cartoon character?)

Grammar: Gooood

Just My Personal Opinion: 1,649 Words.

Pretty Boy Dead
by Jon Michaselsen OOOOOOOOh, Jon! You mispelled your name! SMIRK

Chapter 28
Ace reporter Calvin Slade knew how to turn on the charm when needed to suit a greater purpose, this sounds telling. May be add a smirk to himself at how good he is. especially in a room full of tightly clad, mostly young men milling throughout the lounge this evening. He’d spent the last two hours perched on a stool fronting the main bar at Metroplex, engaged in clipped conversation with a few patrons and the bartender and on occasion scrutinized the dancers gliding through the room like the star of a one-man show on Broadway. Slade had observed each dancer stuck to their appointed spot at twenty-minute intervals before charging forth on some predetermined rotation of dancing venues. In the expansive lounge area, he counted upwards is "of" missing? twenty go-go boys or more, most displaying their sculpted torsos atop raised 4x4 foot mirrored cubes, others surrounded by admirers in the large anterooms flanking the circular walls; the oldest looked in their late twenties, the youngest just about legal age. Some emotion would bring this to life. IS Slade gay, bi, curious? Is he repulsed? Jealous? If I recall he's pretty old, right? in his 40s or 50s. Maybe a reminder, since so many are so young there. Is he standing out?

Slade caught the attention of one of the young entertainers who saddled up to his place at the bar once the music ended and suggested they retreat to a more secluded spot for some privacy.Who suggested to whom to go? The pronouns threw me. Slade paid his tab, slugged the last of his beer and followed the nymph-like fawn through a squash of bodies Love these descriptions and up the grand stairs to the mezzanine. Here, he paid the valet twenty-five dollars cash for the use of one of the twelve private lounges and shelled out another fifty bucks for a cheap bottle of champagne. Once inside the dark velvet lined room replete with twin mini sofas, video monitor and semi-circular, glass-top cocktail table, Chad the dancer instructed maybe he cooed and winked. Slade the reporter to sit back, relax and enjoy the show. It won't be 'telling' if u add dialog

The dancer stood in front of Slade and began a series of slow erotic moves intended to entice the reporter into withdrawing more cash as he proceeded to reveal the pleasure lying within reach. Circulating his smooth hips clockwise, Chad never took his eyes off Slade. The reporter enjoyed the grandstanding too, a perfectly choreographed charade of deception right up until Chad removed his Lycra swimsuit to reveal a bright green, impossibly thin thong. Oh Yum! Is there music?

Time to reveal my purpose for being here, Slade thought,maybe delete 'Slade thought' and put the thought in italics? and beheld a folded, crisp fifty-dollar bill between two fingers. “How long have you been dancing here,” he asked. Chad lowered to accept the cash between crooked, white teeth, an amazing balancing act in such a confined space even for this young dancer.

Chad removed the bill from his mouth and ran the tip of his tongue across plump lips. “About eight months, give or take.”

“Did you know Jason North?”

The boy flinched, but regained composure just as quickly. He slid the money out of sight. Out of sight to where? He's only wearing a thin sexy thong. “And if I did?” He asked, the tone matching the stiffness in his body.

“You’d be able to help me out by answering a few questions.” Slade offered a smile and reeled the pony in with even more cash. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Chad relaxed, but remained cool, withdrawing the bill slowly from Slade’s fingers. It disappeared as quickly as the first. Maintaining a protective distance, Chad asked, “You wouldn’t be a cop now, would you?”

“No, I’m not a cop, just a curious reporter looking into the young man’s death. Maybe you could provide some background information to help me out, you know, like who Jason hung out with, what kind of action he was into. That sort of thing.” Slade leaned forward. “I could even mention your name in the newspaper if you’d like.”

“I didn’t know him that good,” Chad cooed, intrigue sparkling behind doughy brown eyes. “There are lots of dancers working here. It’s hard to get to know everyone.”

Slade studied the boy’s ample crotch and glanced up to seeAT smiling eyes leering down at him. “What can you tell me about him then?”

Sensing renewed interest in what he no doubt was well-paid to offer, Chad inched closer, continuing to play the game. “Jason was real popular with the customers, but a jerk to the rest of us dancers. Health freak, too intense, worked out his body all the time. Up tight hyphenated? attitude, thought he was it. Claimed to be the real deal, man.” Chad scoffed. “Whatever.”

“Did he have any friends here?” Slade let his eyes roam along the soft contours of the young man’s hips.

“Just one that I know of, a dude named Johnny Cage. Come to think of it, I ain’t seen him since I covered his shift for him last week.”

“When was that,” Slade asked, absorbing the taunt body perched mere inches before him.

Chad cocked his head and stared up at the ceiling, as though searching for the answer in the dark tiles. “Thursday night, I think. Yeah, that’s right, ‘bout midnight or thereafter. Johnny said he got an urgent call on his cell and needed to leave for an hour. My shift was over, so he asked me if I could cover for him until he got back. I hadn’t lined up a date—if you know what I mean--and needed the cash.” Chad’s forehead scrunched. “But, like I said, he never came back to the bar, so I covered the rest of his shift.”

Slade nodded and traced his index finger along the lines of the dancer’s stomach. “Any idea what the call was about? Did Johnny mention who the call was from?”

“No, he didn’t say anything other than it was urgent,” Chad said, easing closer, encouraging the reporter to enjoy the body before him. “Wasn’t my business to ask, so I forgot about it, you know? You learn to keep your mouth shut about what goes on around here.”

“What else can you tell me about Jason North?” Slade asked, producing another crisp bill for the taking.

Chad ran a forefinger along the seam of the tiny garment strapped well below his navel, a tease suggesting where he wanted the new bill deposited. “Everyone knew that Jason was Carmine’s boy-toy, that is, until a couple weeks ago. A bad falling out if you believe the whispers around this place. Word is some ugly shit wet down. Didn’t last long, though. A dude named Matt took Jason’s place in Carmine’s bed. He dances here too.”

Slade slipped the cash into the pouch of the dancer’s g-string.Above it was a thong “Was Jason in any danger? Do you know why someone would want to kill him?”

“How should I know?” Chad grunted, grinding his hips closer. “He probably fucked somebody off,off? or over? paid the ultimate price, you know? Got what he deserved.”

“Is that the word around here?”

“You know how these queens can be, everyone’s got his own fucking story, but nobody really knows for sure. Most figure he got popped by a john, man. Happens all the time in this line of work, you know,” he said, indifferently. “He should have been more careful.”

Chad hiked a leg up on Slade’s knee. It seemed unnatural how the boy managed to maintain perfect balance without even breaking a sweat. Big space here. or should it be a new para.? “Do you about the guy who caused the ruckus in here last night? Young and skinny, pretty blond boy.”

“Hopper? Everybody knows him. He’s a real shit and a thief too. He worked here until a about a month ago. Bad news, man. Carmine fired his ass ‘cause he’s tainted.”

“Tainted?” Slade asked.

“The gift, man. Hopper’s got AIDS. Carmine tossed his ass out before he ran off the clientele. Should have done it sooner, if you asked me. Bad for business, you know?”

“Know where I might find this Hopper?”

“Ask the cops, I hear they’re looking for him, too.” Chad relaxed his tough, street-wise stance. “Look man, I don’t know. He hangs out on the streets, don’t really have a place to call home. Last I heard, he was hustling up at the Male Room on Monroe. Try there. You just might get lucky.”

“Yeah, I know the place.” Slade smiled, producing a final twenty-dollar bill. He slipped the cash beneath the linen holding the boy’s thriving manhood. “Thanks for the help, dude.”

“Don’t mention it,” Chad muttered, surprised as Slade rose and exited the room.

[]

In a hidden room not much larger than a broom closet, recessed within the mahogany paneled walls of the owner’s office, two men scrutinized images on the color monitor, listening carefully to the voices through headphones covering their ears. The screen imbedded in the wall represented one of a dozen or so surveillance cameras cloaked throughout the pleasure palace. Spying eyes proved necessary for ensuring profitability in a place where enough cash changed hands each week to feed a small army. The men watched as the affable reporter offered his final bill to the young dancer.

Carmine had enough. He ripped the earphones off and threw them against the monitors, bits of plastic falling to the carpet. Leaning back in his leather chair, the shrewd owner fired up a fat Cuban cigar and stared long and hard at the image of the man he knew only by reputation. Carmine scoffed at the reporter’s gall and his lack of respect. Calvin Slade needed to be warned of the consequences meddling in other people’s business, Carmine’s business. Jon, this seems too much like a TV or movie script. Why would the big guy, Carmine, by coincidence be watching what went on in one particular room? That's why the lower paid people are for; the enforcers.

Exactly what manifestation such a warning might ensue engrossed the two for several minutes before Stewart charged from the room ahead of his boss to inform the dancer his services were no longer needed.