Into the Wolf's Den

"He's musical--a dancer," Carlos had said. "I've heard him play, and he is only at the beginning but he has the touch." Lobo had turned his eyes on Scott and Scott saw more interest there than just in the playing of a guitar. But the man was magic on the guitar. His fingers playing on the instrument had a sensuality to them that make Scott think of those fingers playing him that way and he was aroused. There was nothing handsome about the man but he had a sense of control and danger--and, yes, sensuality--about him. Scott was trembling as they spoke. He kept looking at the long, strong fingers on the man's hands and imagining what they could do on his body.

As he was thinking that, Lobo reached out and caressed Scott's forearm with the fingers of one hand. Scott shuddered, being conquered in just that gesture. He was being played as expertly as the man played his guitar. He knew that if Lobo wanted to fuck him, Scott would let him. And Scott had the distinct impression Lobo wanted to fuck him.

Scott visited the Wolf's Den twice more in the weeks he was with Carlos, and each time Lobo came to their table during a break. Little was said, but much was conveyed with the eyes. Carlos was fucking Scott both before and after bringing him to the club, but in the club Carlos drifted back when Lobo came to the table, deferring to the older man. It wasn't difficult to conclude that Carlos was pimping for Lobo. It also wasn't difficult to conclude that this was leading to Scott on his back and Lobo on top and inside him.

With his eyes Lobo was establishing a deeper interest than teaching Scott the guitar and, with his eyes, Scott was conveying a "yes." On the third visit, Lobo took Scott's hands, one after the other, and traced the fingers with his own, gauging, it appeared, whether or not Scott had magic in his hands for the guitar. Electricity went through the young man when Lobo did this and must have conducted to Lobo through his fingers because he grunted and said, "You say you could come for a lesson on Tuesday afternoons--that you weren't working then. 2:00 here, next Tuesday. I will teach you, but there is something you must establish before we pick up the guitar."

What had to be established, it turned out, was that Lobo had to fully own a student and bring the passion out of the student before he would work with him on the guitar. His apartment was above the Wolf's Den club. The bassist's apartment was above his. The bassist, Ernest Gonjalez, had left Cuba with the Lobos, and he and Juan Lobo shared everything, including young men who wanted Lobo to teach them guitar.

* * * *

Lobos fucked Scott first, Carlos having come to the apartment with Scott and sitting there, touching Scott while Lobo was doing so in preparation and murmuring to Lobo what Scott would do for him, based on all of the training in sexual techniques Carlos had given Scott. They were both fondling Scott, which made him think that perhaps they were going to fuck him together. He was trembling at the prospect of that.

"He gives fine head," Carlos had said, and then Scott demonstrated that that was true.

"He'll open quicker if you finger him and suck on that nipple"--which also was true.

It became obvious to Scott that Carlos pimped for Juan Lobo. But Scott didn't care. Carlos was there, standing at Scott's head at the ottoman they put Scott on on his back and held Scott's ankles, his legs spread and raised toward his head, when the guitarist first penetrated him, nuzzling in between his spread thighs, holding a beer-can thick cock as he placed it in position, and then thrusting inside. Scott cried out at the unexpected pain of it, but quickly settled down, overwhelmed by the passion of it. Holding Scott's waist between his hands, Lobo began to pump him immediately, anxious to get first fuck of the young man accomplished. Lobo came quickly, but moved into slower, more languid sessions, putting Scott on his back for a slow missionary fuck and, later, going on his back himself for Scott to saddle himself on the master guitarist's hips and ride his cock. The two subsequently fucked like long-term lovers.

* * * *

Carlos disappeared soon thereafter, and Scott never saw him again. He didn't answer phone calls and he didn't open the door to his apartment when Scott tried to find him there. He didn't return to the beach, either. He obviously had served his purpose--to pimp for Juan Lobo. When Lobo grew tired of Scott, it was clear that Carlos would train another fresh young man and bring him to the Wolf's Den.

Juan and Scott weren't alone when they were fucking, though. Ernesto Gonjalez was there, too, watching... and waiting. When Juan had fucked and breeded Scott on the ottoman in the missionary position in their second coupling, he withdrew and Ernesto, turning Scott on his belly, mounted the young man in the doggy position and fucked him as well. Later the two shared the young blond, sandwiching him between them in a standing position, Scott's knees hooked on Juan's crouching thighs and Ernesto crouching behind, and both dicks inside him, thrusting in rhythm of the recorded guitar music in the background of Juan Lobo in concert.

Juan did take time out from fucking the young man to give him guitar lessons. Lobo was an excellent teacher and he must have thought that Scott had more promise than just to provide a tight, willing channel, because in the five weeks Scott came to and for Lobo Scott became quite good at the classical guitar.

The young man became quite good with submissive male-male sex too. He was good enough that Juan shared Scott with his father, Julio. Julio was an old-school dominator and Scott suffered when the sixty-two-year-old man fucked him, but the old man taught the young blond to endure it and to give good fuck when it was demanded. Julio also taught Scott that a riding crop could produce high arousal.

The day came toward the end of the summer when Scott came to the club for a lesson only to find that Juan Lobo and Ernesto Gonjalez also were gone. They had left on tour, he was told. But, of course, they hadn't said anything to Scott about doing that. He had come that day with a serious question to ask. He had come to Florida for a bit of adventure but not knowing what to do with his life when the ballet classes ended. A door was opening to him, though. He was offered a principal's position in the Miami City Ballet. If he continued to do some lifeguarding, he could live off the stipend for this for a couple of years before aging out of ballet roles. Perhaps he could teach ballet himself then.

But he loved playing the guitar. He wondered if he did it well enough to play in clubs himself like Juan Lobo did and Carlos had said he sometimes did. He was going to ask Juan that day whether he was good enough to make a living off that.

Juan Lobo was gone. His father, Julio, was there, at the club, though. And after fucking Scott, he introduced him to another Cuban, a bodybuilder type of thuggish, but sexy looks, who had watched Julio fuck Scott in a standing bull position.

"This is Luis--Luis Hernandez," Julio said. "He works for me. He can work for you too. He will arrange for you to go with men for the next month. If you impress him, he will take you to New York and you will make very good money."

It wasn't a request. Neither Julio Lobo nor Luis Hernandez was the sort of man who had to make requests. The summer lifeguarding would extend for another month. Scott would not have to decide on the Miami City Ballet position until that time. He also presumed that he could walk away from the pimping offer too if he found he didn't like that. But for a month, exploring whether he would like to sell his body to men for good pay--men like he'd been giving it away free to? One thing he had found was that the man who covered him didn't have to be young and fit. He had to have a good cock and to know how to use it. Juan, Ernesto, and Julio--and even the thuggish Luis--had that. Maybe enough of the paying men Luis came up with in Little Havana over the next month would meet that criteria to keep Scott satisfied. Once Carlos had started to hump him, he'd found he couldn't get enough of it.

He could keep his options open on that decision for a month.

* * * *

The fucking of the two--the dancer, Scott Blake, and the older ballet master, Vasily Komorav--was an act of beauty. With soft Spanish guitar music playing in the back, the two were entangled, facing each other, with Vasily sitting the bed, legs bent and Scott nestled into his lap, facing him, with his ankles on the older man's shoulders, his toes gracefully pointed, and Vasily grasping the younger man's wrists and the two rocking together in a smooth rowing motion to the music. Both were naked, and trim, yet well-muscled. Both were premier male ballet dancers.

Scott had had a more formal audition, focusing on dancing technique, earlier in the afternoon, but both knew he had to pass this audition as well. They were doing this in the late afternoon because Scott had two sets of exotic dancing to provide at Club Havana, a New York Chippendales dancers-style gay male club in the Chelsia section of New York City. Vasily, who was assessing Scott for a principal's position in the American Ballet Theatre, would pick Scott up at the club later, they'd go clubbing, and eventually, if everything worked out well, they'd wind up back here in the bed in Komorav's apartment.

Scott had been working for six months at Club Havana, owned by Julio Lobo, and had been brought here from Miami by Luis Hernandez, the Lobo organization pimp who had pitched him to work in the family's escort business. Although Club Havana specialized in a masculine, muscle-men Chippendales review, Scott and two other male ballet dancers were mixed into the routines. All of the dancers at Club Havana were handled by Luis Hernandez and also rented by the hour.

Those plans didn't work out, though. The dancers were cleaning up in the dressing rooms after their Club Havana performances and Scott was telling one of the other ballet dancers, Pete, that he probably would be out all night--Pete was his roommate, but a submissive, like Scott, so there were no entanglement problems there--when Luis came in.

"I've lined you up to go clubbing with a guy visiting from Miami after you've gotten dressed," he said to Scott.

"I can't," Scott responded. "I've got--"

"This ain't a request," Luis said. "He's Cuban and an old friend of Julios. He picked you off the menu. Be at the stage door in fifteen minutes."

Scott had already learned--a bit painfully--that the pimp, Luis Hernandez, didn't request. With a sigh, he called Vasily Komorav on his cellphone and they spoke for a few minutes before he rang off.

The date was named Martinez. No first name was given. He was short and fat and looked old enough to be a contemporary of Julio Lobo, so Scott assessed him to be in his sixties. He smoked cigars and drank heavily and Scott wasn't looking forward to getting alone with him after the clubbing. But that opportunity never came to pass.

The second club they landed in that evening was named Wolf's Den North, and Scott should have known before they walked in that it would be one of Julio Lobo's clubs. That left room for natural surprise that it was a near duplicate of Juan Lobo's intimate setting guitar club in Miami's Little Havana--complete with Juan Lobo on a small platform playing his guitar, backed up by Ernesto Gonjalez on the double bass.

Juan seemed as disconnected for the audience and in his own world as he had been in the Miami club. Scott tried to be conspicuous and draw the guitarist's attention to him. The man had abruptly walked out on Scott when Scott thought they had a very good thing, sexually, going. It hadn't been Scott's idea to end the relationship. But the few times Juan looked out into the audience, his attention passed Scott by. After a few minutes Scott figured out why.

He could see that when Juan Lobo looked out into the audience, his attention was going to one particular table. Scott looked at the table and his eyes were completely opened to what he'd been doing for the last nine months--that he'd let himself be drawn in the wolf's den male prostitution. He even had the revelation, by example, about what a short-lived option that was.

There were two men at the table Juan kept looking at. One, to Scott's great surprise was Carlos Perez, the man who had seduced him from off the beach in Miami, taken his virginity to men, trained him in sexual techniques, handed him over to Juan Lobos and Ernesto Gonjalez, and then disappeared. The other man was much younger, probably no older than Scott had been when Carlos recruited him as a submissive in the Lobo family's world. And he was blond and willowy and looked like a dancer. He and Scott clearly could be twins.

Watching Juan Lobo look at the young man and the worshipful way the young guy looked back, Scott saw his Miami summer unfolding yet again--but for this young man, not Scott. Scott had quickly been pulled into a deeper world of prostitution. They had used the same method in getting the young guy this far that they had used with Scott. He had a guitar case by his feet. He probably was being promised guitar lessons from Juan as long as he was nice to Juan--and then later, without really being asked for permission, nice to the double bass player too--and then to men of the Lobo family's selection, and within months, like Scott was, to any man who would pay.

Scott could see that it was too late to try to intervene for the young guy at the table. There was little chance the guy would believe how fast he could descend by taking guitar lessons from Juan Lobos--and learning to play the guitar that way was the big plus of having done this.

Excusing himself from the cigar-smoking Cuban who had brought him there by saying he needed to go to the men's room, Scott left the club. On the street he called Vasily Komorav.

"I find I could come back to your apartment tonight after all--if you still want me. And it's a yes to the offer." Then he held his breath. This was his chance to change direction, to start withdrawing from the wolf's den.

There was no long pause, and Scott let out his breath in relief.

"Yes. Come over now. And I'm glad you'll take the principal's position I offered you at the ballet."

Scott was escaping from the wolf's den while he still could.