No Experience Needed (c) 2007 by the author Nexis Pas
Vince spotted the new guy as soon as he opened the door. Two men in their mid-twenties had entered just before him, and Sid, the bouncer at the door that night, had nodded them in after barely glancing at their IDs. He devoted more time to the new guy, carefully checking both sides of the ID and holding it up to the light to match the picture against the real face. Even in the ill-lit room, it was easy to see why. The kid didn't look as if he met the Cinque Ports' minimum age requirement. The bar didn't admit anyone under 21, and it discouraged anyone who was obviously over 30. Sid must have had his doubts about the ID. He tapped it against the podium at the door and then spoke to the guy. The kid stepped to one side to let others in the queue in. Sid flipped his phone open and spoke briefly into it. The bar continued to fill as more people pushed in. The rain must have started again. A noisy group came in and stood at the door stamping their feet and shaking their coats like dogs ridding their fur of water. They laughed at Sid's mock protests as the bouncer theatrically brushed drops of water off his clothes. Vince could see the kid surreptitiously checking them out, as if he were making notes on how to behave in a gay bar. The mini-drama at the door had Vince's full attention now.
The door at the rear of the bar opened and Mike, the manager, threaded his way past the bartenders, his eyes automatically checking their speed and the number of customers lined up trying to get a drink. Mike pushed his way slowly through the crowd, stopping frequently to greet someone and say a few words. Some of the customers got a slap on the shoulder, others a hug or a finger poke. For business purposes, Mike was friendly and matey. It was considered a mark of distinction in the Cinque Ports to be noticed by him, and he dispensed his attentions carefully, hoarding that capital as if it were a precious metal. Anyone who did not quite meet the standards the Cinque Ports wanted to see in its patrons and dared to speak to Mike risked getting only a perfunctory nod of dismissal.
It took the manager at least fifteen minutes to navigate his way to the front door. Sid handed him the kid's ID, and Mike motioned the kid to step over. He looked at the ID and then at the kid. For a second Vince thought he would deny the kid entrance. A stray flash of light illuminated Mike's face briefly, and Vince could see that the expression of amused disdain on the manager's face as he handed back the ID. The kid said something to Mike. The manager half-turned to face the room and shook his head in exasperation. He shrugged and held up two fingers. The new guy could have two drinks and then he had to leave. Mike immediately turned his back on the kid and said something to Sid and to a man who had just entered. He had done his good deed for the day. He had devoted enough of his valuable time to charity that night.
The kid sidled into the bar. Vince watched as he found a spot about ten feet into the room and stood there with his back to the wall about as far from the action as it was possible to get in the Cinque Ports. The crowd pushed him further against the wall and shut him out. Again Vince had an impression that he was studying the others, trying to figure out how one behaved in places like this. In truth, the kid didn't fit into the Cinque Ports. It was set up and run to attract the fashionable, the popular, the good- looking, the well-off gays from London. It was a place to be seen, to be part of the scene. The kid was thin, dressed in a grey windcheater with the zipper pulled almost up to his throat. His hair hung in wet lanks from the rain and needed to be cut. Anyone in the crowded bar who bothered to look in his direction would dismiss him as a nerd. He was the type of person who made everyone else glad they weren't him.
The kid looked over at the crowd of people trying to attract a bartender's attention and get a drink. He smiled in resignation at his ill luck and obviously gave up any notion of fighting his way through that mob for one of the two drinks he was permitted. His hands played with the pull tab on the zipper, restlessly moving it up and down. The shiny metal caught the light. Some oddity of the lighting in the room made it flicker and wink at Vince. He probably was the only person positioned to see it, he thought. The brief smile and the flashing zipper made up Vince's mind for him. They were the signs he needed. Vince motioned to Eddie and held up two fingers in a V. Eddie nodded and swiftly pulled two pints for him, barely pausing in his work to toss the money Vince left on the bar into the till. Vince picked up the glasses and deserted his seat at the bar. It was taken before he had moved two steps. As he manoeuvred his way through the crowd, careful to avoid sloshing the beer, he conjured up his favourite mental image of himself. The lithe, sleek jungle cat stalking his prey, his eyes gleaming through the undergrowth, a dark shadow invisible to his chosen victim until the last second before he struck and pinned the hapless prey beneath his body. Vince was on the prowl, and he had his next meal in sight. Virgin meat, by the look of it. Just the type that Vince liked. Naive, innocent, ready to be used and then discarded. Vince didn't want one of the desirables,' the 10s' that thought they were doing you a favour by speaking to you. If he wanted a 10, he could look in the mirror. No, he wanted a guy who even in his wildest fantasy would never imagine that someone like Vince would stop in front of him and say, `Here, you look like you could use a drink'. Vince was already looking forward to breaking the kid's heart.
The kid stared at the glass of dark ale and then looked up into Vince's face. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in Vince's good looks. Vince raised the glass an inch and tilted it toward the kid in the here, take this, it's for you' gesture. The kid complied. Thanks.' He glanced shyly down. A sliver of Vince's chest was visible through his carefully opened shirt. Vince knew that the kid was getting a look at the hard inner edges of his pectoral muscles. He shifted slightly so that the shirt opened a bit more, to give the kid a taste of his future viewing pleasures. The flash of tanned skin seemed to embarrass the kid, and he tried shift his eyes elsewhere. But Vince had positioned himself to cut off the kid's view of the rest of the room. Vince was easily six inches taller and much broader through the chest and shoulders. The kid couldn't see around him or over him unless he bent down and peered around Vince's narrow hips, and somehow Vince knew the kid wouldn't do that. Vince moved closer and clinked his glass against the one the new kid was holding. `Cheers.'
The kid mouthed cheers' in return. Over the noise in the room, Vince couldn't hear the actual words, but the kid's lips formed the right shapes. Up close he was cuter than Vince had first thought. The kid had that fresh, unused look that Vince liked. He could see why Mike had relented and admitted him. With the right clothes and a better haircut, he would fit right in. A few visits to the bars and he would know how to dress. The daily workouts at the gym would follow. He would clean up good', as his old gran used to say. For tonight, however, he belonged to Vince. The kid didn't know it yet, but he did.
There were several dozen people in the Cinque Ports who could have warned the kid what that meant, but they weren't going to have a chance to tell him. Vince didn't doubt that several of his former chosen ones had noticed him cross across the room and understood what it meant when he stopped to talk to the kid. If the room had been quieter, he was sure that he would have been able to hear them gossiping about him. Probably some of them were already jealous of the kid. Others were taking pleasure in anticipating the not too distant day in the future when Vince had ensnared the kid and then dropped him and moved on. It was, Vince had once explained to one of his discards, all part of the service he performed for the new guys. He taught them the hard lesson everyone had to learn.
For now, it was time for the old charm, the animal magnetism. `My name's Vince.'
`Christopher Williamson.'
First point to me, thought Vince. Christopher Williamson was so new that he didn't know enough to give only his first name. Vince pretended he hadn't been able to hear over the noise and moved closer, leaning down and turning his head slightly so that `Chris'--he had already decided to shorten the kid's name--could speak into his ear. Chris repeated his name, and Vince smiled directly into his face. The kid's eyes darted away, and he took a sip of his drink to cover his confusion. Vince was gratified to see that he was having an effect. He was standing so close that Chris's arm brushed against his chest as he raised his glass. Let the kid have a feel of what he would soon be experiencing. Chris jerked back and apologized for the contact. Good, thought Vince, a quick learner.
Vince was reminded of a little puppy. This seduction was going to be fun. He started the process of making conversation, relaxing Chris and getting him to lower his barriers. Chris's ears soon got used to the loud music and shouted conversations, and he begin to treat it as so much background noise. Vince lowered his voice and isolated the two of them. Chris would soon cease to be aware of his surroundings. It is only a matter of time and my skills, Vince thought. He murmured on, the gentle enquiries into Chris's life, the nods of understanding, the sage hints from the slightly older and more experienced mentor, a few remarks in that ironic tone of his to insinuate that the two of them stood apart from the others. He soon had Chris relaxed enough to laugh and begin enjoying himself. Oh, I am smooth, so smooth, thought Vince.
Chris had a nervous habit of fiddling with the tab on the zipper on his windcheater. It was as if his free hand had to have something to occupy it. Vince was beginning to find it a bit annoying. In any case it was time to move things a step further. The next time Chris let go of the zipper, he reached over and pulled it down, making sure that the knuckles of his hand brushed down Chris's chest and across his stomach. The shocked intake of breath assured him that Chris's reactions were proceeding in the right direction. He let his hand rest on Chris's belt and flattened his fingers against Chris's stomach. The kid's flesh was firmer than he had expected. Nice', he said. Very nice.' Even the newest kid on the block would not mistake his meaning.
It was then that he first saw the flash of light around Chris's neck. Oho, the kid is wearing a chain, he thought. It was the perfect opportunity to let Chris know that Vince had arrived in his territory and was taking over. `What's this?' Vince grasped the chain and pulled it out from beneath Chris's shirt. The chain was a thin braid, intricately woven of silver threads. Attached to it was a small medal of some sort.
It belonged to my mum's great-grandfather. He was a soldier in India. Brought it back with him. I was named after him. It's the only thing of his I've got.' Vince held the medal closer to his face so that he could examine it in the dim light. The chain was so short that Chris had no choice but to step closer to Vince. Vince spared him a quick smile. It was just a cheap copper coin, Vince saw. The head of some forgotten ruler was barely visible on one side. The obverse had some writing in a script he couldn't read and an odd device that made no sense to him. It looked like a upright stone pillar of some sort. Nothing of any value, but it obviously meant a lot to Chris. He kept it so brightly polished that it was a wonder he hadn't worn it down to bare metal. Vince thought it would do for his trophy for this brief liaison'. Payment enough for his efforts. It's the thought that counts, he smirked inwardly, not its monetary value. It would soon join the other trophies in his curio cabinet, one for each relationship.
It's hot.' The coin was oddly warm in Vince's hands. You have a hot body.' Vince put as much heat into his own voice as he could muster, but the sound came out choked. The stale air in the room was getting to him. In any case, it was time to take Mr Williamson's education a step further. He touched Chris's neck as he lowered the chain back under Chris's shirt. He could see the outline of the coin beneath the fabric, and he touched it briefly. Even through the cloth he could feel the heat of the metal. Chris really has a hot body, he thought.
`Are you ok, Vince? You look flushed.'
`I'm fine. Just getting a bit close in here.' Vince did feel overheated.
`Do you want to get some fresh air? Cool off?'
About time you suggested we leave, thought Vince. And cooling off is the last thing on my mind. `Yeah, let's get out of here.' He placed his hand on the small of Chris's back and guided him toward the door. That idiot Geoff greeted him as they passed and lifted an eyebrow to let Vince know that he found Vince's taste questionable. Well, he's always been dense, thought Vince. Chris is worth a dozen of those losers he's with. Geoff made some remark behind his back. Vince couldn't hear what was said, but there was a definite note of satisfaction in the laughter that followed.
The wind was off the ocean that night. The rain had cleared the air. After the fug and heat of the Cinque Ports, the strong scent of sea came as a shock. The moon had come out once the clouds had cleared off. As they passed Paston Place, he could see down the road to the Channel and feel a cool breeze flowing up the street. `Ah, that feels good. Let's walk down to the front. I like to watch the waves. Maybe walk along the beach.' Mother Nature, his aide in seduction, thought Vince as he made the suggestion. A pity there was no sunlit meadow of flowery grasses to run through, but the council kept the municipal lawns closely cropped and the sun wasn't shining. The thought made his laugh.
`Something funny?'
Just happy to be with you, Chris.' The pleasantry rose readily to his lips. He was back on track. The fresh air had revived him. Well, it wasn't healthy to spend so much time in bars. The heat, the crowds, all the colognes and scents at war with one another. At least, the Cinque Ports didn't allow smoking, that would have made it unbearable. Vince stopped at the railing above the beach and leaned on it, looking out over the Channel. The lights of several ships were visible. He thought that he would like to take an ocean voyage some day. To some place where it was warm all year, and there was always sunlight and music, and the ocean was blue and clear instead of grey-green and dirty. The Caribbean, maybe. Anywhere away from Brighton. Chris stood next to him, his arms wrapped around his chest. Ah, you're cold. I wasn't thinking. My place is only a few minutes' walk. Come home with me.'
Even as he said it, he knew that something odd had happened. He never invited anyone to his place. That was his sanctuary. He never allowed anyone in it. He always insisted that they go to the victim's place. But he and Chris were already walking towards his door. It was too late to change. `Uh, Chris, you do understand what is going to happen, don't you?'
`I think so, Vince.'
`I have to ask. Have you ever . . .'
`No, this will be the first time. I have no experience.'
`I'm a top. Do you know what that means?'
Chris laughed. `I've been reading up on the subject. I've learned about as much as one can from the internet. I've passed that pub lots of times and I've always wanted to go in, but tonight was the first time I worked up the courage to actually push the door open. But I know you'll be considerate and patient and gentle, Vince.'
`Yes, of course.'
Ahead of them, Vince saw the woman who had the flat across the hall walking her dog. Mrs Peirce, that was her name. She always walked her dog at 10:30. Every night, always at the same time. The dog was well trained. It never tugged at the leash and always walked in the regulation position to its owner's left, following a short distance behind her.
As soon as Vince closed the door behind them and turned the lock, he gathered Chris into his arms and kissed him. Chris's body was so hot. The heat penetrated Vince's body and warmed him to the core. It was what he thought the tropical sun must be like, melting one's body. He had never felt so warm. It was as if he suddenly became aware that he had been cold all his life.
Their clothes came off quickly. Soon all that they had on between the two of them was the medal around Chris's neck. Vince touched it again. It had become even hotter. `Doesn't that burn?'
`No. It just gets hotter as I get aroused. It concentrates my heat and transmits it.'
Vince was never sure later that he recalled Chris's explanation correctly. But at the time, it made sense. It seemed only natural that Chris's medal would make both of them feel hot. I'm getting light-headed, thought Vince. Chris's body was so perfect. So smooth and firm. He even smelled so . . . what was that scent called? It was so heady, like cloves and sandalwood and . . . those other smells that filled the air outside Asian groceries. And his skin glowed so in the light, like copper, burnished copper that concentrated the light and the heat. He loved stroking it, loved letting his hands glide over Chris's body and make him feel good. The gasps of pleasure that escaped through Chris's lips impelled Vince to even greater efforts to arouse Chris.
`Vince, I don't know what to do. I mean, I've downloaded videos off the net and watched, but I've never done . . . I've never done any of that stuff before.'
Vince's gaze flowed down Chris's body to his groin. He seldom sucked anyone. His partners sucked him. He didn't know whether he could satisfy Chris, whether his technique would be everything that Chris deserved for his first time. It should be special for him, for Chris's first time. There had been that guy last summer who was so good at sucking. Jasper, that had been his name. Vince thought he could duplicate Jasper's technique. Perhaps Chris would like that. He would try anyway. And he would keep stroking Chris's body. He always liked it when his partners used their hands on him while they were sucking, stroking the backs of his thighs and his buttocks. Multiple sensory input, maximum overload, into the danger zone. And Chris's cock felt so good in his mouth, so good against his tongue and his lips and in his throat. Chris was so hot. He looked up and saw the medal hanging from Chris's throat. It swung gently back and forth. He couldn't take his eyes off of it. It was on fire, red with Chris's heat.
Vince lost track of time. At some point, Chris pulled him up and began kissing him, his tongue flicking in and out of Vince's mouth, penetrating him. `What position do you like best? In some of the videos I've watched, the guys face each other. Sometimes the bottom guy is on all fours. Sometimes they lie on their sides and the top penetrates the bottom from the back or front. Which works best?'
`I like to face the guy.'
`Why?'
Vince could hardly tell Chris that he liked to watch the spasm of pain on the bottom's face when his cock slammed into him. That he enjoyed thinking that he was really raping the guy and that the victim couldn't stop him. That he was so much more powerful than that guy he was fucking. `I just want to see the expression on your face.' It sounded feeble to him even as he said it, but it was the way he wanted Chris to take him.
Chris stood up and arranged Vince on the bed so that his butt was at the edge and his feet were on the floor. He stood between Vince's legs, his magnificent body pressed up against Vince. Vince moaned as he felt Chris cock brush against him, and without thought he raised his legs and placed his ankles on Chris's shoulders. The medal swung back and forth across Christopher's beautiful golden chest. Back and forth, filling Vince's gaze.
Vince didn't want to move. It was nearly two in the morning, and he was afraid that if he moved the wonderful lassitude that pervaded his body would dissipate and he would return to normal, whatever that was. Christopher nuzzled his neck gently and stroked his chest one final time. He eased his arm out from beneath Vince's shoulders. `I have to go. I'll see you tonight. Be at the Cinque Ports at 8:00.'
Vince nodded his agreement. He watched Christopher as he pulled on his clothes. Christopher bent over Vince and kissed him a final time and then left without looking back. Vince heard the door to his flat open and then close. Mrs Peirce's dog chuffed quietly from behind her door. Christopher said something Vince didn't catch but the dog didn't bark again. He knew he would see Christopher tonight at 8:00 when Christopher came through the door at the bar. He hoped that Christopher would see him.