Page 2 of The Butler

I spotted a cardboard box stacked on a file cabinet beside his desk. There was a coffee mug he’d given me my sophomore year that had a bumblebee on the side sitting on top of various other personal effects. The wordsbizzee beescrawled on the side stood out like a long-gone, sweet memory of good times when we were a couple. Which actually was only ten minutes prior when I’d knocked on the door.

“My stuff?” I whispered.

He nodded.

CHAPTER ONE: Deklyn

One Year Later

The screen protector on my cell phone resembled a giant spider web with all of the cracks. I still used an iPhone 9, and it was at least four or five generations behind, but it couldn’t be helped. I was broke and the future didn’t look all that financially lucrative. The fact that I wanted to push the pillow further to my right to see who was blowing up my cell, was certainly inconsiderate considering the guy currently railing me from behind was giving it the old college try. “Yeah, stud. There it is. Yeah, baby,” I moaned. Perhaps some vocalizations would let him know I was awake.

The lug nut I’d picked up at the gym earlier was turning out to be a complete dud. What was it about gym gods and their attitudes during sex? Was it because they knew we lusted after their bodies so much that being good at the deed was secondary? Brad, Brody, Biff, whatever the fuck his name was, was holding my hips tightly and proceeded to pound away as if his life depended on it.

“Dude, thanks for the invite. I wasn’t sure if you were one of the high-priced escorts that frequent the club or if this premium ass would be free,” he huffed between thrusts. “I don’t get paid for another week, so, yeah, man.” It seemed he’d partaken in some of that expensive-boy ass before. I actually wished I was an escort. At least then I wouldn’t be two months behind on the rent for my crappy, 300-square-foot studio.

My hand reached for the cell, and I slid it across the comforter to a position beneath my face. I may as well read the texts while Roidy–was that his name?–continued his one-note assault on my ass. “Oh yeah, stud,” I added to keep him from noticing my disinterest. I seriously needed to stop picking up random dudes. It had become apparent that no amount of sleazy sex would get me over Tom. My goal of bettering my life was undermined with each cheap slap of my ass. “Get it!” I yelled, just in case he noticed I’d zoned out on him.

Starr: He’s in LA. Boat in Cabo. Can U B there in two days?

The first text was eleven minutes ago. Roidy, as I now referred to him mentally, was another hyper-muscular guy whose cock had shrunk to the size of a seven-year olds due to his overuse of steroids. Everyone knew I was cynical, but geesh, lay off the cheat juice, folks. If I opened my hole for another three-inch-dicked muscle boy again, I may as well learn to top.

Starr: Where the F are u, Dek?

I tapped the phone again to check the current time.Should I moan again?Text two was seven minutes ago. Me and the gym hookup had been in my apartment for fifteen minutes. After figuring out that he had the IQ of a gnat, we got down to business. His foreplay moves consisted of him flexing his incredible body for me, then pulling me close and almost suffocating me while he squeezed my ass cheeks, stating that he needed to tap that. I led him the eight feet from my front door to my mattress that lay in the corner right outside the bathroom. After tossing him a condom and a bottle of lube, I assumed the position. Today’s choice wason-all-foursdoggy style since my phone had been buzzing and I might have to respond. I doubted my hookup would notice me reading texts considering he couldn’t keep his eyes off the guy in the full-length mirror propped against the wall. Himself.

“Fucking hot, right,” he asked, waking me from boredom. “Most dudes totally dig my body.”Was he talking to me or the dude in the mirror?

“Yeah, man. So good,” I half-heartedly agreed, moving my ass suggestively and staring at the cell phone’s shattered screen, barely able to read the texts clearly.

Starr: Captain needs a manifest. R U in or not?

“Alright, stud. You have one more minute of my time. I’ve got shit to do,” I said, looking back across my ass at the sweaty stranger. He was very hot but his hairless half-incher was barely registering in my ass. I had really sunk low and today was another major reminder that my life sucked.

“Fuck, dude! I don’t like being rushed when I’m performing,” he protested.

“I suggest you get your performance going because I’m unplugging you in about a minute.” I could be an insensitive asshole as of late, but the texts meant a paycheck, and I needed one dearly.

“I can’t fuck under pressure,” he complained.

I disengaged from his penny-candy sized dick, rolled over, and stood up. “Sorry, but time is up.”

“You’re a dick, man,” he grumbled, trying feverishly to come as he jacked his micro-cock. “At least suck me off.”

I stood in the doorway of my bathroom and pointed to the door. “Let yourself out.” I closed the door to the bathroom and waited for him to exit.

“Fuck you, pretty boy!” he yelled through the thin bathroom door. “You sucked anyway. I have better things to do than waste all this on you.” The apartment door slammed shut barely a minute later. If all you wore were gym shorts with no underwear, and a torn tank top that resembled a chick’s thong, you could make quick exits. He’d worn his tennis shoes while we fucked. Another clear sign he was a douchebag. I needed to respond to Starr before I lost a chance at a paycheck.

Me: Yes I’m in. How many days of work?

I stared at my sent message and the bubbles below it while waiting for Starr to answer. Two more minutes passed. The thought of losing work on a yacht and all the cash that went with it, panicked me.

Me: I need the fucking job! Hello???!!!

Starr: It’s about time U answered. You’re booked already. I covered for your ass and said you were available. I knew you’d take the fifteen hundred a week offer.

Me: Lifesaver. Love U. When do we need to be on board?

Starr: Leave LAX at 6 today. Helicopter from Cabo to boat already off the coast of Mexico. Set up 36 hours. Mr. D on the boat in two days.

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