This is part 3 of a ten-part story. I'd welcome your comments and even suggestions for future plot twists and turns. justinnewjersey@yahoo.com Peace, Justin.
I cleaned myself up and came out of the locker room. I walked over to the bar and sat down on a stool, away from everyone else. It was an hour or so before the dancers would come in. I sure didn't feel like hanging out with these faggots, but without my wallet, I started to think that working tonight might be a good idea. I needed money for the El to get home. But the idea of paying Miguel his cut and seeing him later really pissed me off.
The one bartender who was friendly to me said he had heard I was in the back, that Miguel had been through and said I must be sleeping one off back there. He asked me if I wanted a beer, but I said I had forgot my wallet. He slid me one anyway. I was learning that if you were young and blond and smiled, these queers would cut you slack.
He asked me where my shirt was and I said I had lost it. He kind of snickered, and said it must have been a helluva party for the afternoon. I was just sitting at the bar wearing jeans and my boxers were sticking out. Pretty soon he pulled a nasty looking sleeveless tee shirt out from under the bar that somebody had left behind.
It had been cut off so it was a few inches above my belly button, but I put it on. It said something like, I'm a drama queen, but I didn't know what the fuck that meant.
Pretty soon Rashid came in. We had a beer together. I told him I was stuck down here without my wallet and stuff to dance in. He snapped the waist on my boxers and said something like yeah dude, you know they won't let you work in that straight boy shit.
Rashid said he didn't have any boxer briefs but he'd lend me a pair of red bikini underwear. I laughed when he pulled them out, but he reminded me I was in a spot so I stuck them in my back pocket. He said he'd front me the fee for Miguel, who'd be by soon.
Rashid said he heard that Robby had been escorting for Miguel, but that he had blown a lot of the money he made on drugs and was into Miguel big time. Miguel was apparently looking for Robby so Robby had disappeared.
He said that the place Robby and I had been renting was owed money too, money Robby had blown on crack. Miguel had paid off the guy, and packed up a couple of boxes of clothes that belonged to Robby and me and took them.
This was worse than I thought. Robby was turning into a drug head and a fuckin fag hooker and now neither one of us had a place to sleep. That motherfucker Miguel had raped me and now he had all my clothes, my wallet, and my cell.
We went back to change and I had just pulled on the red bikini underpants and was still wearing the cutoff drama queen shirt when Miguel came in. Besides Rashid and me Miguel had dropped off his new dancer, a body builder type from Russia.
The sight of Miguel made me furious. I had told Rashid a little about having a fight with Miguel but not about what he did to me. Rashid knew I was pissed. Miguel just smirked at me when he came in. I wanted to rush him and beat the shit out of him, but I felt pretty fuckin foolish with what I was wearing, and Rashid grabbed my shoulder and said something about chillin and my needing money.
Miguel stopped in front of me. What a motherfucker he was. You should have seen the evil grin on his face. He said he wanted his money. I pulled the fifty Rashid had lent me from the pocket of my jeans that were laying on the floor.
Everyone could feel the tension in the room. Then Miguel told Rashid and the Russian kid to get the fuck out the locker room. He towered over me and just kept smirking as he stuffed the money in his pocket. Standing in front of him wearing just that sissy underwear was almost as bad as when he stuck his cock up my ass that afternoon. He looked at my outfit and just shook his head.
Finally he told me that we were going to make good money together. I just stood there like a fuckin idiot. He said that he had my shit from the room, and that I was to come over to his place tonight to get it. He said he'd pick me up after the club closed and I was done dancing.
I asked him if he had picked up my wallet, and he said yeah, it was with the clothes. Same with my cell. Then he leaned right into my face. I could smell the sweat on his body, and the cigarettes on his breath. His long, black hair nearly touched my mouth.
He said, look kid, we're gonna make some serious money. It's a bitch of a world out there, but I'm gonna take care of you. Just don't cross me. I don't wanna hafta rape that little blond boy ass of yours again to keep you in line.
I almost raised my fist and punched him. But something in me took hold and said you are at the bottom of the pile dude. Your life can't get much more fucked up. Robby's AWOL, you got no place to sleep, no wallet, no cell, no clothes, and you're standing in front of this big Latino dude in nothing more than a faggot's red bikini underpants.
Something told me I better dance for Miguel tonight, and let him take me to my shit at his place later. I was still mighty pissed at him, and he scared me with his dark eyes, violent temper, and threats, but something also said if I could hang in with him and his shit, there was money to be made.