Real Black Spandex Love Story 1

Eight-thirty. Late enough - the sun's gone down, the stores have been closed for hours, and the streets will be deserted. Quietly I slip out of the dorm - not that anyone would really care where I was going, and most of them know anyway. I head off down the hill - down into the heart of the city. As I expect, the streets are quiet - there's some noise coming from the bowling alley as I walk past, but not much.

I walk down a few more blocks, then turn to head behind the Atrium - down Broadway, to Monument Square. As soon as I round the building, I can see them standing there - on the corner by the pay phone, eyeing the cars that are circling the block. "Three times 'round the block" is the traditional signal. I notice a few of the drivers eyeing me as well - the tall kid with the deep auburn hair, dressed in snakeskin pants, tight black shirt, and black leather jacket - I cut a striking figure, a true creature of the night.

One of the drivers pulls up to the curb, and calls out to me - he's mistaken me for one of the hustlers. I flash a smile at him and shake my head - thanks, but no thanks. Even if I were interested, I have plans for the evening. I reach the opposite corner, and cross over to the group by the phone booth. I recognize them all - Chris, and Danny, and all the others. Over the past few months I've gotten to be friends with all of them - possibly better friends than I am with anyone up at school. We exchange greetings, handshakes, hugs... but my eyes keep scanning for one face - where is he?

A movement catches my eye - there, in the shadow of the candy store's doorway. The best this city has to offer - not just my opinion, either. I look at him appraisingly - the firm calves and thighs, the shadow cast by the bulge barely hidden in those tight button-fly jeans. The taper of his torso as the white silk shirt hugs his body. The unicorn on it's gold chain glistening where it lays on his smooth chest. The long blonde hair contrasting nicely with his sun-bronzed skin - a summer tan that has lasted late into autumn. Jamie.

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"How's tricks?" I ask, the pun long since become a standard greeting. He smiles, pearl-white teeth sparkling between darkly sensuous lips.

"Slow," he says. "Looks like it's gonna be another one of those nights. Feel like taking a walk?" He cocks his head to the side and winks. I grin, and wink back. "Sure, why not?"

We meander around the darkened streets of the city. Past the music hall, the bars, the off-campus fraternity house where the brothers are drinking beer out on the porch. They ignore us, and we ignore them. We talk as we wander from lightpost to lightpost. About the work I'm doing at school, his search for a day job, his plans for the future - our friendship, our relationship.

It's been three months since the night we met - the night I first saw him at the bars and convinced a mutual friend to introduce us. For my part, it was love at first sight; for him, something similar. At first I didn't know he was a hustler - it wasn't until I was headed home that night, after spending three hours just talking with Jamie, that the friend I had gone out with confronted me with the fact. Jeff was upset - he was older, and wiser, and had appointed himself my protector, but I didn't care - I was head-over-heels in love. Smitten. I spent the next day curled up on a couch in the student union with a pad and pencil, writing Jamie's name over and over and over....

The following night I met Jamie again out at the bars. We talked for a while, and then he breached the topic of his profession. I told him I already knew, and that I didn't care. He was surprised, but very happy. From that point on, we started seeing each other. Going out to the bars together, getting together downtown or up at school - and occasionally I'd go and visit him "at work." Like tonight. We've been together for three months, and it seems like we've known each other forever. In this time our relationship has grown to encompass every part of our lives - everything, that is, except sex. I haven't asked, and he hasn't offered. In a way, I am glad of this - I'm not sure how I'd respond if the opportunity presented itself. It's not like sensuality hasn't played a part in our relationship - it has, a large part - but not sex itself.

Two things have held me back. The first is that this is my first relationship with a guy - I'd had plenty of girlfriends back in High School, and my share of sex - but although I've fantasized about it alot, I've never had sex with a guy. The second is Jamie's source of income. While it doesn't bother me on an intellectual level, the threat of AIDS is always there in my subconscious mind. Of course, there's always safe sex, so the problem must really be my virginity....

"Hey, I need a shower. You wanna go back to my place?"

Jamie's question snaps me back to reality, as I realize that my mind has been wandering. I nod. We turn down the street, and head toward the apartment Jamie shares with his uncle. Ray is out of town, so the place will be empty. Up three flights of stairs, Jamie leading the way. I take my time, admiring the way his legs and ass ripple under the denim as he gracefully climbs the stairs.

He unlocks the door, and flicks on the lights. The apartment is much as I remember it from the other times I've been here - small and cramped. The entry/living room is Jamie's - off to the right is Ray's bedroom. To the left is the kitchenette and the door to the bathroom. Jamie's bed is against the far wall.

"Make yourself at home," he says,"this shouldn't take too long."

He heads off into the bathroom, and soon I hear the sound of the running shower. I take off my jacket, and toss it across one of the chairs, then flop across Jamie's bed. As I wait for him to finish showering, I thumb through some of the magazines that are lying around on the bed.

The water stops. The bathroom door opens, and he walks out wearing only a small tan towel wrapped around his narrow waist. His hair is still wet, water droplets sparkle on his skin. Watching him cross the room drives me wild. The smooth, hairless skin; the small, dark nipples on the well-formed, but not over-developed chest; the taper of his torso from his chest to the towel-clad hips; the long, athletic legs; and of course the package that the towel is barely hiding. He looks particularly vulnerable, and extremely edible - a gorgeous boy/man, he appears younger now, fresh from the shower. Seeing him like this, I forget that he is the older of the two of us.

He glances over to me, notices me watching him. He grins, a mischievous grin that makes him look even more boyish. "Should I bother getting dressed, or do you wanna fool around?" he asks. I remain silent, but slowly rise from the bed and cross the space that separates us. My right hand reaches out to touch his face - to caress his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. The left goes to his chest, to play with his right nipple, to run over his stomach, around his waist. I draw him to me, our lips meet, and open. Slowly our tongues explore each other's mouths, teeth, lips. His hands unbutton my shirt, as mine wander down along the base of his back, then over his towel-clad butt. The towel falls to the floor as he unbuckles my belt and opens the zipper of my pants. He starts to work the smooth snakeskin down - I break the kiss and grab his hands.

"Wait." He nods, understanding. I look at him again - oh, god, how I love him, how I want him. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly. Okay, I'm ready. Am I? Yes, I am.

Still holding his hands, I lead him back to the bed. We lower ourselves onto the mattress, hands rapidly exploring each other's bodies. I reach down with one hand to open the zippers on my black leather boots, then slip my feet out of them. Jamie slides my shirt over my shoulders and down my arms. We embrace - a long, passionate, violent embrace, which ends with us lying next to each other on the bed. Me in my open snakeskin pants and black spandex briefs, Jamie totally nude. I brush my fingers over his hairless body, as he runs his through the hair on my chest.

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