The Hoover

"A lot of rich older guys come down here to meet up with guys like me. You don't have to be embarrassed. I understand guys like you. I'll let you have this for two hundred bucks."

I hadn't really intended to have any contact with it at all, and now he was asking two hundred dollars.

"No. I really don't think so. I think you should go."

"I'm between jobs," he told me. "I could really use the dough." And he was masturbating the length of his erection right next to me. I couldn't not look at it. But I also couldn't do anything about whatever crazy desire might be coursing through me.

"I have to get home," I apologized. "I'll come back next week."

"No. I need the money now."

"Please," I said.

He shrugged his shoulders and reached his arms down to adjust his pants. I thought he was just going to tuck it away, but he reached into his tight right pocket and pulled out a switchblade, which he then switched open.

"I would really hate to have to hurt you," he said. "Give me your wallet."

"Please," I said again.

"Give me your fucking wallet and be quick about it," he ordered now in a very unfriendly voice. I handed him my wallet. He kept the knife poised in my direction while he studied all my papers. I had over five hundred dollars in my wallet. I knew I shouldn't carry so much cash. From now on I would be more careful. I also would not be visiting strange taverns in a depressed part of town in the late evenings after this. I was hoping he would just take the money and go. Yes. Go, before stabbing me in the chest or pressing the cigarette lighter into my face. The lighter was in his lap. It had gone cold, but he only had to plug it in for a moment.

"Melvin Spenniker," he observed, having seen my name and address on my driver's license and all the other vital documents which one must carry today. I hoped he would not take my credit cards. I also hoped he would not make me drive to an ATM machine and draw out funds from my account, which I would then have to hand over to him under the threat of bodily harm. If I ever got out of this, I would have learned a lesson. It wasn't even fair. I hadn't done anything.

He lifted the bills out of my billfold, and carelessly flipped it back onto my lap. He counted them and smiled.

"You were stupid, man. I would have let you suck my cock for two hundred. It would have been cheaper. And I have a real nice cock, as you can see. Next time, maybe you'll know a little better."

"There won't be a next time," I said stiffly. "And I don't suck cock," I informed him.

"Suit yourself," he said. He stubbed out his cigarette in my ashtray, but hadn't yet put the lighter away. Finally, he put the lighter back in its hole, but instead of removing his hand, he again pushed the lighter in again. I was terrified. But then he reached into his shirt pocket and drew out the pack of cigarettes. He shook one out of the pack and lifted it to his lips. The lighter popped out. He took the glowing hot implement and touched it to the end of the new cigarette. Again he drew deeply, finally exhaling a cloud of blue-gray smoke over me. I knew that the smell would remain in my car for years.

He held the lighter in his hand, the burning end facing me. "And remember. If you every tell anybody. Like go to the police. Or anything. I know who you are. I know your name. I know where you live. Got it?"

"Yes." I said. I had indeed gotten it. He gave me his last cruel, sneering smile and opened the right hand door. Before he got out he leaned toward me holding out the lighter, but he was only reaching in front of me to put it back in its socket. Thank Heaven. "Nice to meet you, Melvin," he said. "Remember. Any time you want to pay me to suck my cock." He laughed at me, as he groped himself.

The moment he was out of the car, I snapped all the locks down, and placed my key in the ignition. I was so nervous that I scraped the side of the next car as I hastily backed out of the narrow parking space. I saw him laugh at me. The minute I was clear, I revved the motor and sped off. A half hour later I got to my apartment. And was I ever glad to be home. I never wanted another experience like that.

I took a hot shower and got into bed. I turned out the light and tried to fall asleep. It had been so unsettling. In one night, two different men had wanted me to suck their cocks. They had thought that I had come into that establishment for the express purpose of finding cock to suck. Was there something about me?

It was hot. I threw off the blanket. It was chilly. I pulled up the blanket. And why had I gotten so aroused when it was all happening? More arousal than I had ever felt in my entire life. I would go back to Maloney's. I would pay the two hundred dollars. I would find out what it was like. No. I would never go back to Maloney's. I could be killed if I went back to Maloney's. It was dangerous.

It was hot. I threw off the blanket. It was chilly. I pulled up the blanket. I fluffed the pillows under my head. Try as I might, I could not get comfortable. I could not fall asleep. I needed desperately to sleep. I could not fall asleep.

I had had two highballs at Maloney's, which should have made me sleepy, but they must have worn off. The fright had overcome their soporific effect. Maybe if I had another drink.

I got up and went into the living room. My liquor was in a cabinet there. I rummaged. I found a bottle of gin. Why did I have gin? I never drank gin. I was not a drinker at all. Why did I have a liquor cabinet?

I opened the bottle. It took five minutes and a sharp knife to get the damned seal off. I poured myself a stiff one and swallowed it in two gulps. Uggghhh. Horrible. Why do people drink this stuff? I sat in a chair holding the bottle for ten minutes but I still wasn't feeling sleepy, and god I needed to sleep. I poured a stiffer one and swallowed it in four gulps. I put the bottle back in the liquor cabinet and went back to bed.

Yes. It was working. I was feeling a little dizzy. Nauseous and dizzy.

At first the room was spinning, but gradually the spinning evolved into a free-floating airiness. I was on a cloud somewhere wafting through the heavens. Where was the cloud taking me? I was anxious to find out.

I was in the country with my binoculars looking to sight a blue-billed Peckerling, a bird I had never heard of, but I knew was nearby. It seemed very important now that I catch sight of the Blue-Billed Peckerling at least in flight, if not in his nest. I had no idea what he would look like, but I was certain I would recognize him by his blue bill.

As I pushed through the brush, a cluster of fearful birds, flapped into the air. I looked hopefully, but they were all sparrows. Not one blue bill. But wait. Wasn't that one? Way off there, near that other cloud? But now my cloud had reversed direction and was floating away from it, and eventually it was so far away, that I could not focus my binoculars sufficiently to identify the bird.

But then I was suddenly in the theatre. The very theatre. I recognized it clearly. I had been here before. A great happiness overcame me. I was anticipating a wonderful performance. But first I knew I would have to use the rest room. This time, having been forewarned, I did not even ask the lady at the box office where the rest room was. I knew where it was. It was down the street, then a block over, then across an intersection. Over there was a collection of run-down storefronts. Above one would be jagged block letters identifying the name I sought. THE HOOVER. The men's room was in THE HOOVER. I was frightened and excited at the same time. I was going to go into THE HOOVER, and I was going to go into the rest room hidden behind the far side of the bar.

I went in the door. They seemed to be all the same trashy-type rough-looking men who had been here on my last visit. They seemed to be country folk. I didn't know country folk, but I knew that these men were all country folk. I was sure that they all did hard labor on farms and ranches, pitching hay, tending cattle, and were all somewhat inarticulate. Most of them were angular. I have always liked angularity, and their facial hair made them look mysterious and dangerous. I felt my wallet in my pocket. Why had I brought my wallet? I should have left it home.

I ordered a highball at the bar, and stood there drinking it. I wondered when I would dare to go into the men's room. Only ten feet away. So close. So close. If I could only get to the men's room and see what would happen before my eyes snapped open. I somehow knew I was asleep, and was clinging to my sleep desperately. I knew that this was where I needed to be. In THE HOOVER.

Suddenly a handsome young man with a rakish blonde moustache moved next to me. I looked at him and smiled, and he smiled back, tipping his beer bottle at me. When he smiled he didn't look so mean anymore.

"This your first time here? I ain't seen you before."

"No," I answered. "I was here before. Once before."

"You picked a good place. We got a good crowd here. A lot of nice fellers," he told me. I was glad to hear that, and I was glad he was being so nice to me.

"My name's Luke," he offered, stretching out his hand.

"Melvin," I told him, shaking the proffered hand. "I did not give him my last name. I had not become that trustful. And, anyway, he hadn't told me his last name.

"So what brought you to THE HOOVER?" Luke asked me cagily, his eyes narrowing.

"I have a ticket for the theatre," I explained.

"This ain't no theatre," he laughed.

"I know. I know. I needed to use the men's room, and it seems they have no men's room in the theatre. They sent me here."

"How about that?" Luke said, swigging a swallow of beer.

In his slim angularity, there was a sensuality, which was beginning to beguile me. His teeth were a little crooked. His eyelids drooped a little. He was obviously uneducated, and yet I felt so drawn to him. He took another swig of his beer, and I watched his bony hand as he lifted the bottle. He was so lean. More than lean. Skinny. I knew his legs would be long and skinny inside his jeans, but he had the most beautifully rounded firm buttocks pressing against the aging material that had grown thin and weakened perhaps through sitting on hard leather saddles.

"I have to get back to the theatre before the show starts, I should really use the rest room now," I said.

"Mind if I come with you, Mel? I need to get rid of some of this beer. Make room for more." He howled at his own joke.

"That's okay," I said. But I was nervous. I would have trouble going with someone standing next to me. I knew that.

"Okay, then." He set his empty bottle down on the bar and threw an arm around my shoulder in comradely fashion. I had never had a comrade before. I liked it. We walked to the men's room and went in. It looked a little different than it had the last time I had been in here. Maybe a little bigger? It was probably just my imagination. How could it have gotten bigger? But weren't there only two urinals here last time? I could swear there were only two then. Now there were five.

I walked to the one at the far end of the room, hoping Luke would take the furthest one away. Why crowd together when we had so much space? He took the one right next to mine. I almost knew he was going to do that. We were looking into each other's eyes, when I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his hands taking it out. If I looked I would be able to see it. I wanted to see what it looked like. But if I looked he would know things about me, so I couldn't look. My heart was pounding. I looked down. I looked down and saw

sunlight coming through the half-closed blinds. It was morning. I had somehow slept through the alarm and now I was late for work. I jumped into my clothes, and raced to my car without even thinking of breakfast. Only later, on my coffee break, did I start to recall fragments of my dream.

And then I remembered it clearly. I remembered Luke. The way he had thrown his arm over my shoulder. If only I had not had to leave so suddenly, what might have happened between us? Would I have done things I had never done before?

I could barely wait for the day to be over. I wanted to get back to THE HOOVER. I wanted to take up just where I had left off last night. He had been standing right next to me, and I was just about to look down at what he was manipulating with his hand.

But it was too early. I wasn't hungry but I forced myself to eat a little dinner. I watched the local news. I watched the national news. It was all depressing. It was not where I wanted to be. Finally, I felt it was late enough that I could in good conscience turn off the television and retire for the night.

It was hot. I threw off the blanket. It was chilly. I pulled up the blanket. I fluffed the pillows under my head. Try as I might, I could not get comfortable. I could not fall asleep. I needed desperately to sleep. I could not fall asleep.

I went into the living room and poured myself a stiff one and swallowed it in two gulps. I poured myself a stiffer one and swallowed it in four gulps. I shouldn't let this get to be a habit. I didn't want to become an alcoholic. I only wanted just once to spend the night, the whole night, in THE HOOVER.

I was a little less nauseous tonight, but the spinning began. The world was warm and comfortable and cozy and spinning. And I was in Las Vegas. I had heard about this fantastic slot machine at the Beau Riviere Hotel. The one nearest the last window of the cashier's cage. I would be rich. I had cashed in all my assets and had brought them with me.

I went to the Beau Riviere, but I had never been there before because I had never been in Las Vegas before, and I didn't know which slot machine it was. There were a lot of slot machines nearest to the last window of the cashier's cage. Suddenly I heard bells ringing and I heard the sound of a woman's voice. She was shrieking.

"I hit it," she screamed. "I hit it. I hit the forty-two million dollars. I'm rich. I'm rich."

While I was stupidly looking around, she had found the magic machine. She had beaten me to the forty-two million dollars, which I had gone there to win. I felt sick.

I felt sick and got up and ran into the bathroom. I fell on my knees and retched into the bowl. Nothing came up. Just some saliva. Or gin. Or gin flavored saliva. I could not keep drinking gin like this. I was in a hot sweat all over. Finally I felt a little better and washed off my face and dried it. What a terrible dream. To have not won forty-two million dollars when I had been so close. If I had just gotten to that machine a minute before she did, it would have been mine.

I got back into bed and brooded about my bad luck. But now I was standing across the street from the broken jagged block letters that spelled THE HOOVER. Maybe I was going to get lucky after all. I went into THE HOOVER and ordered a cocktail at the bar. I think the men there were beginning to think of me as a regular, and accept me. I didn't feel like such an outcast any more. I felt as if I finally belonged someplace.

And I didn't have to hurry back to the theatre tonight. I hadn't stopped there first to buy a ticket, so I had all night to spend in THE HOOVER. What adventures would befall me here? I needed a comrade to guide me through the rites. A brother. Where was Luke? I didn't see him. I really wished that he were here.

I felt an irresistible siren call from the men's room. I was desperate to go in there, but I wanted to go in with Luke and he wasn't here tonight. I would have to go in alone. I was a little nervous. I pulled myself together and decided to go for it. I set my empty glass down on the bar. I could still taste the gin on my tongue. I walked casually towards the men's room door. Not looking left. Not looking right. I went through the door.

"Where ya been, man? I been waiting for you. You totally disappeared on me last night." It was Luke. He was standing at the urinal exactly as he had been the night before. I was really glad to see him.

"You were waiting for me?" I asked shyly.

"Hell, yes, man. Can't do this alone. Gotta have a little company. Gotta have my buddy with me. Right?"

"Right," I answered, the warm glow of companionship spreading through me.

"Well, step on up, man. What are you waiting for, a gold-printed invitation?

I laughed, and took my spot to the left of him. I turned my face sideways and we looked at each other. The crooked teeth and the droopy eyelids now seemed unbearably sensual to me. I wanted to wilt against his lean strength. I wanted.....I wanted.......I wanted to look down.

I looked. He was holding it. Gently playing with it. It was only semi-erect, but still very large. And it was beautiful. I had never thought of a penis as being beautiful. But now..........I wanted to touch it. I wanted to hold it. To feel it grow to iron in my grip. But what would he think of me if I did a thing like that?

"Go ahead, man," he said gently. "I know you want to touch it." I stretched out my right hand and gently massaged him. He closed his eyes and sighed happily. He even lit a cigarette and began puffing on it contentedly. I reached into his underwear and handled his hairy heavy testicles.

"Nice, man. You really know how to please a guy," he told me. And I was so pleased to hear this.

I dropped to my knees in front of him, as he turned to face me. It was now clear that we were not there to use the facilities, but for other purposes.

It was so hot and hard in my hand. And so straight. And so beautiful. And now a little drop of moisture appeared on the knob. I was captivated by it. I knew I wanted to taste it. I wanted to taste Luke. I wanted to take Luke into my mouth. I wanted to take Luke's penis into my mouth.

"Go ahead, man," he encouraged me putting tender pressure on the back of my head. I opened my mouth and

the alarm went off. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Another day at work. Another fucking day. And who knew when or if I would ever get back to THE HOOVER.

I could not live my life like this. Filled with strange unfulfilled dark desires. I needed to become more proactive. If this was what I really wanted, well, then maybe I should at least experiment. I tried to work, but I was nervous all day long and kept making stupid mistakes. I had decided what I was going to do that evening. I was going to go back to Maloney's.

I had had two chances at Maloney's to do what I evidently wanted to do, and I had messed up on it. But this time I was going to Maloney's in a different frame of mind. I knew what I could find there and now I wanted it.

I ate a light dinner and dressed for Maloney's. I wore a pullover shirt and slacks. No suit and tie. Even so, I would not be dressed as the other clientele. I took my driver's license out of my wallet, which might be something I might need, and I took some cash. Around two hundred and fifty dollars. Fifty dollars would cover any drinks I might buy, and if two hundred dollars was the going rate for what I wanted to do, here it was. I put my wallet in the bottom dresser drawer.

I parked my car tightly between two others behind the bar. I hoped that tonight I would not have to make such a hurried departure that I would scrape one of the neighboring cars. I walked down the dark alley to the street and entered Maloney's.

There was a Tacklers game on the TV and most of the guys sitting at the bar were watching it and cheering. There was a pool game going on in the far corner of the room. I looked around hoping to see the construction man who had offered to let me suck him off on my last visit. He had been quite nice looking, and clean, and seemed to be a decent guy. I didn't see him. I also did not see the handsome white-faced, blue-eyed, black-haired man who wanted two hundred dollars to let me suck him, and had then taken five hundred because I wouldn't give him the two hundred.