This story is set in the fictional city of Trenton, New Jersey. Yes, there is a real city by that name, but other than being a state capital on the Delaware River, it bears little resemblance to the city in this story. While a few of the places mentioned may exist in reality, all of the characters and events are fictitious.
If you are under age, or live in an area where reading stories that include sex between males is illegal, or if you're not into this type of story, please leave. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at NJMcMick@yahoo.com.
Chapter Nine
I spent the rest of the day Monday walking the streets of Trenton, desperately looking for a job. It was more or less like the day I found the job at Frank's, except this time I didn't find anything. I stopped in every coffee shop, luncheonette, restaurant and fast food place I came to, looking for work as a waiter, busboy, dishwasher, short order cook, floor sweeper, anything they might consider me for. None of them considered me for anything.
Tuesday morning I went to the library first thing to check the newspaper. I didn't have any money to waste buying one when all I needed was the want ads. There was an ad for a catering place on Route 1 near the mall that was looking for waiters. I hated having to spend money on a bus ride out there but at least I knew they were hiring. I went back to the rooming house and changed into the most decent looking clothes I had and then caught the bus out of town.
The place wasn't very big but it was one of those that only held catered parties like weddings. It looked like they could hold a couple at a time as long as they were small. I filled out the application and then waited in the office. There were several other guys waiting as well, most of them wearing white shirts and black pants, the usual waiter's uniform. I realized that I would have to buy clothes like that if I got the job. The only money I had was next week's rent, but if I was sure of getting paid something by Friday I could spend a little of that. I was finally called in to another office to be interviewed by a large black woman. She motioned for me to sit down while she looked over my application.
"Dishwasher, huh? Well, I see you do have some serving experience." I hadn't left off the coffee shop this time. "That's really what this position is all about. You're more a server than a waiter. You don't have to take any orders, though customers often make requests of you. Eighteen, that's a little young, though. We prefer our waiters be over 21. Most of our functions have open bar or cash bar so people help themselves, but occasionally wine is served at the tables. You wouldn't be able to do that."
"I could work with someone older, taking on some of their work if they handle the wine for me."
"Yes, it's not really a problem. We do have some waiters who are under age. You realize that due to the nature of our business there are no tips, so you'd be on a straight hourly wage? Your hours would vary from week to week depending on how many events we had scheduled, so you'd be working anywhere from five hours a week up. Time and a half for anything over forty, of course, though that rarely happens. You provide your own shirts and pants, plus a black bow tie and shoes."
"That sounds okay to me. When can I start?"
She smiled. "My, you're an eager one, aren't you? Okay, everything here looks good and you look good. Give me your Social Security card and another form of ID that I can copy for the files and you're hired. You can start Thursday night, five o'clock."
"I haven't got any ID, but I put my Social Security number on the application."
"No ID at all?"
"Um, no, my wallet was stolen a while back and I haven't gotten around to replacing anything."
"Well, we can't put you to work without it. Think you can get me something by Thursday?"
"I don't know. I can try. Can't I start anyway and get it for you later?"
"Sorry, no papers, no job. There are lots of illegal immigrants looking for work in this field."
"But I'm not an immigrant of any kind, legal or illegal."
"Obviously not. But we've had a few problems in the past and the INS is keeping a close watch on us. We have to make sure we have the right documentation for every employee." She smiled at me. "Go down to the Social Security office and see what you can do. I'll hold your application until Thursday."
I couldn't believe it. I'd come so close. I got up and left the office feeling more depressed than ever, probably because I was so sure I had it. I walked the half-mile to the mall, figuring as long as I was out that way I'd see if there were any jobs there. I didn't feel like looking, but I knew I had to. Again, I had no luck at all. There was almost no one hiring, not even in the food court. In the human resources department of one of the major department stores they explained that because there were several colleges in the area, the kinds of jobs I was looking for were usually snapped up by students early in the school year, but then became available later on as some students quit. They suggested I come back for Christmas season. If I didn't starve to death before then.
By the time the bus got me back into the city it was too late to go to the Social Security office, but I made up my mind to go first thing in the morning. I was kicking myself for not having done anything about replacing my card earlier. Since I knew my number and that's all Gert had asked for, it hadn't occurred to me to get a new card. In the morning I asked Lucille where the Social Security office was and got there not long after they opened. Once I filled out the form and took it to the old man at the counter I was in for another shock.
"A new card? No problem. You should get it in the mail in a couple of weeks."
"The mail? Can't I get one today?"
"Is it an emergency?"
"Yeah, actually it is. I've been offered a job but I need the card. No card, no job."
"Okay, we can issue one for you if you need it now. I'll need some kind of ID, preferably a birth certificate, passport or drivers license."
I was getting totally frustrated. "I haven't got any ID. That's why I need the card."
"I'm sorry, but unless you can prove that you are," he looked down at the form, "Jeremiah Coy Walton, I can't give you a card in that name. All we can do is mail it to the address we have on file for you." He looked at the computer screen. "That would be in Chester, Pennsylvania."
"No!" I shouted, a lot louder than I meant to. "I mean, I don't live there anymore so I wouldn't get it. If you have to mail it please use the address I wrote on the form."
The man smiled kindly at me. "I'm sorry, son. I know how frustrating this must be for you but these procedures are in place to protect you, to keep someone else from getting a card in your name. The only thing I can suggest is that you go to the city hall wherever you were born and get a copy of your birth certificate. You can probably order it over the Internet if it's too far to travel. Then you can come back and get a new card. Hopefully, that job will still be open for you."
I walked out of the office in a daze. It had never occurred to me how undocumented I was. With no form of identification, none of the usual cards, it was like I didn't exist. I went to the library to see about ordering a birth certificate on the Internet. I found the official Pennsylvania state web site without any problem but felt like screaming when I read the instructions. There was a fee of $10.00 and orders over the Internet had to be paid by credit card. That left me out. Birth certificates could be ordered by mail or in person at a state office in Philadelphia, but until I was 18 the only person who could get mine was Ralph. In other words, I was fucked.
I went back to my room and laid down for a while, wishing I could fall asleep so when I woke up I would discover it was all a bad dream. I stared at the ceiling feeling lost and helpless. That feeling passed after a bit although I was still little depressed. But I got up and forced myself to get back out on the street. My only chance was to find another job at a place like Frank's, someplace small that wouldn't be so fussy over paperwork. I had stumbled onto one job like that; in a city the size of Trenton I should be able to find another.
I spent the next two days searching. I had thought that standing at a sink forty hours a week was tough on my feet, but that was nothing compared to walking miles every day. More than once I was told to come back in a few weeks, that something would probably be available then. Twice I was told that they'd filled a position less than an hour before I walked in. That was worse than just having the door slammed in my face.
On Friday afternoon I went to see Lucille. I asked if there was any way she could let me go a week or two without paying rent. I explained that I was expecting a large unemployment check soon and I would pay her in full when I got it. I even showed her the paperwork from the unemployment office. No deal. As sweet and ditsy as she usually was, she was a bear when it came to money. I paid her the rent, leaving me with four dollars to live on for the rest of my life, or so it seemed.
I hadn't eaten all day so I went to Burger King and spent a quarter of my life savings on a cheeseburger. As hungry as I was, I had trouble getting it down. Two cheeseburgers a day had been my diet for a week. I walked down to the river and sat on my rock. I'd been looking out at the river for answers ever since I got to town and hadn't found any. But now I knew I was down to the wire. I needed an answer and I needed one now. I looked downstream at the Route 1 bridge. That was one answer. The river must have been a mile wide at that point and plenty deep, judging from the size of some of the boats I'd seen on it. Since I couldn't swim, all I had to do was jump from the middle of the bridge. The river would take care of everything. In spite of all of my problems the past few years, I'd never contemplated suicide before and I couldn't seriously consider it then, either. I never thought of myself as terribly upbeat, but deep down there was some kind of optimism in me. No matter how bad things got, I felt there was always some way out. But where? I just couldn't see it this time.
One of the things I found hardest to do was to ask for help. For some reason I always thought it was a sign of weakness, that I was supposed to be able to handle things on my own. It had been hard enough for me to ask every guy I knew in the house and several I'd never met if they knew of any jobs in town. I sure couldn't ask any of them for a loan, no matter how small. I thought about Norman. The day I met him I asked him for money for food and that was so hard for me. I knew that if anyone would help me, he would. He was due back on Thursday, so all I had to do was hang on six more days. Then I would beg him for help if I had to. I had to accept that I couldn't make it on my own. But how was I going to eat for six days on three dollars?
It was starting to get dark and aside from deciding not to jump from the bridge and to beg Norman for money when he got home I wasn't coming up with any brilliant ideas, so I got up and headed back toward town. As I neared the cruising area I saw a couple of cars parked along the road and a few guys hanging around. The old guy in the Volvo was there and as I started past the car I froze when I saw the two twenties in his hand. It looked like a fortune to me. I just stared. It was another answer, though I wasn't sure I could do it. It was better than the bridge, though.
"So, are you interested in making some money?" His voice brought me out of my thoughts.
"Uh, I'm not sure. What would I have to do?"
"Well, it's pretty much up to you. If you let me suck you, you can have one of these. If you return the favor, you can have the other."
Neither sounded very appealing but what did I expect? And a blowjob is a blowjob, right? And forty bucks would carry me through until Norman got home.
"Okay, sure, why not."
I heard to door lock pop on the passenger door. "Hop in." I opened the door and gingerly got into the car.
"So, which would you like to do?"
"Um, both, I guess." I didn't want to do either but as long as I was doing it I might as well get all the money I could.
"Great! I'd better blow you first, though. After I come I pretty much lose interest in sex. Take it out."
"Here? Won't somebody see us?"
"It's dark and there's almost no one around. Besides, everybody knows what people are doing in the cars here anyway. Nobody's gonna be shocked."
I unfastened my belt, unbuttoned my jeans and pulled down my fly. I pulled my soft dick out of my boxers and squeezed it a few times. It didn't respond.
"Don't tell me a kid your age needs Viagra?"
"Give me a minute, okay? I'm a little nervous." I leaned back, closed my eyes and played with my dick. I tried to forget where I was and think about that last night with Manny. Thinking about his thick uncut brown cock got to me and I finally started to plump up. I felt another hand on my hardon.
"Damn, that's huge. I hope you don't mind if I don't get the whole thing down my throat."
"Nah, whatever."
I felt the car shift as he moved and then he took me in his mouth. I again thought about Manny, forgetting whose mouth it was that was really on me. I was thinking that he didn't suck anywhere near as good as Manny or Marcus, but it still felt pretty good. As soon as Marcus popped into my mind I felt a tightness in my balls.
"I'm gonna cum," I whispered.
He pulled off me and stroked my shaft a few times and I started to shoot. Holding a handkerchief over my head he caught my cum, preventing a huge mess. He took a whiff of the handkerchief and sighed.
"Okay, your turn."
I fastened my pants as he unfastened his. He'd put the money on the console between the seats so I picked it up and put it in my pocket, then bent over to take him in my mouth. His dick was only about six inches and not very thick, not anywhere near as big as either Manny or Marcus, but I still had a problem with my gag reflex. I struggled to get it under control as I gently bobbed up and down on him, sucking him as well as I could. Again I tried to pretend it was one of my two previous lovers, but it wasn't easy. After a minute he put his hands on my head and began pushing me down harder, shoving more of his length into my throat. I was gagging and gasping for air, with tears running down my cheeks, when I tasted his cum. I tried to pull off but he held my head firmly in place as his dick throbbed in my mouth. When he finally finished and let me go I sat up. I felt my stomach churning and threw open the door and jumped out.
I staggered behind a tree, gagging as I heard his car start up. I bent over and threw up, losing his load and what was left of my cheeseburger as well. As I did, I felt a hand touch me lightly on the back of my neck as I wretched. When I was empty I stood up and found myself facing a cute blond All-American looking kid a few years older than me. He handed me some tissues and I cleaned off my face.
He smiled at me. "Feeling better, now?"
"Yeah, I guess. I think something disagreed with my stomach."
He nodded. "That's putting it mildly. Say, how about some toast and tea? It might help settle your stomach. Always works for me."
I looked around. "Where?"
"Obviously not here in the park, dummy. There's a coffee shop right across the highway that's pretty good. C'mon."
He seemed like a nice guy and I was going that way anyhow, so I followed him. He didn't say anything else until we were seated at a table in the café and placed our orders. Then he held his hand out across the table.
"I'm Rod. And you're...?"
"Jerry. Look, I hope I didn't disgust you back there. That's not a very good first impression."
"That's okay. If I'd sucked off that old guy I probably would have puked myself."
I must have looked as horrified as I felt.
"It's cool, Jerry, relax. I'm a working boy myself. I've seen you down there a few times but I didn't realize that you were one of us."
"I'm not a hooker." I resented that he assumed I did that all the time.
"But you are Blanche, you are." Rod laughed. "Sorry, I'm a Bette Davis fanatic and I couldn't resist using the line. Anyway, what I meant was, you just took money from that guy for sex, right? He did pay you, didn't he?"
I nodded and felt my face flushing. I was sure I was beet red.
"From the way you're acting, I'm guessing that was probably your first time doing it for money with someone you weren't into, right?" I nodded again. "Even so, taking money for sex makes you a hustler, which is the word for male prostitutes, by the way. So you are one, at least for tonight."
"It was just a one-time thing. I was broke and the money was too tempting."
"Hey, don't feel like you have to get all defensive. I told you, I'm a hustler myself."
"You do this for a living?"
"Well, not exactly. I'm a junior at the College of New Jersey. I'm on a scholarship and my family doesn't have much money. My freshman year I had a part-time job for spending money, but the pay was shit and the hours were so long I barely had time for school, much less a social life. Then I found out about this place. One or two tricks a week and I have all the money I need."
"But how can you stand it? Isn't it pretty disgusting?"
"Well, like I said, I only need a little to get by, so I can be pretty selective. It's not so bad once you get used to it. Just think about something or someone more exciting when you're doing it."
"Yeah, that's what I did."
"A little hottie like you should be able to do a lot better than that Volvo guy. When I saw you with him I figured you were probably a newbie so I thought you could use some advice from an old pro like me. Aside from not being very appealing, that guy doesn't pay enough. Oral action should pay at least thirty. And fucking costs lots more, if you're gonna get into that."
"You fuck out there in the woods?"
"It's not the ideal situation, either in a car or in the bushes so I don't do it often. But if a guy is hot and he's willing to pay seventy-five bucks, I'm not gonna turn him down. Sometimes a guy wants to take me back to his place. I only do that with someone I'm really into and never the first time I meet him."
In spite of the experience I'd just had I felt myself getting hard as I thought of this hot college guy in front of me fucking some guy in the ass. Or did he get fucked? Either way, it turned me on thinking about it. I forced myself to stop thinking along those lines.
"And one other thing if you're gonna get into fucking. Condoms. Some guys will tell you they're negative and offer you a few extra bucks to do it bareback. Don't do it. The risk isn't worth any amount of money."
"Well, sure, I'd never do it without a condom. But like I said, this was only a one-time thing. I don't think I could do it again. Just sucking was bad enough. I don't think I could ever get into fucking with someone like that. Besides, isn't it dangerous? Not just the sex with strangers part, though I would guess that is, too. I mean, prostitution is against the law. I've never seen cops down there but don't you have to worry about that?"
"From what I've heard the cops used to be a problem in the park but then one night a few years back some hot-shot politician got arrested for soliciting. He pulled some strings and got the charges dropped and covered it all up but ever since then the cops have left the place alone. Still, it's a good idea to be a little discreet."
"So how do you tell someone you're a hustler and not one of the guys who are there just for fun? You're really hot and I'll bet you have guys who aren't into paying coming on to you all the time."
"If someone propositions me, I just tell him that I'm working and leave it at that. If he's still interested, we talk activities and prices in a round-about way."
"I still don't think I would want to get into that."
"Well, I'm not trying to talk you into it, but if you need money and don't find it too objectionable, it's not bad now and then. I just thought I'd give you some pointers. You look like a nice kid and I'd hate to see you get taken advantage of."
The waitress brought our order and we talked a while. He told me stories of some of his adventures, some funny, some very hot. He was so casual about it all. When we left the coffee shop he gave me a hug on the sidewalk.
"Take care of yourself. And be careful if you decide to pursue the profession. I'll keep an eye out for you."
"Yeah, so will I."
"One last thing, by the way. Is Jerry your real name?"
"Of course, why wouldn't it be?"
"Well, if you're going to be working the park you might want to come up with a working name. I find it better to keep this part of my life separate from the rest. My real name is Dave, but don't let it get around. My girlfriend would have a cow if she ever found out about my job."
"Your girlfriend?"
"Yeah, I'm bi. I've had boyfriends in the past, but right now I'm seeing a really hot babe. She knows I'm bi, but not that I'm peddling my ass to buy her dinner."
"Okay, then I'll just call you Rod if I see you in the park." I had a sudden inspiration. "And you can call me Coy."
"Coy? I like that." He looked me up and down. "Like I said before, I'm not trying to talk you into anything, but you could do very well in this business, Coy."