Derry, Northern Ireland

Derry, Northern Ireland
A book I'm working on is set in this town.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

The Hell with it -- here's HUNTER

A small part of the growl of a story I've sort of been working on to let off steam.


“His name’s Tony.”

Vermin told me that when we parked the car on a street in one of those LA neighborhoods off mid-Venice where you don’t want to be out after dark. We’d found a spot in front of this old bungalow that looked abandoned. I wasn’t crazy about this, but Vermin’s ideas’re usually good so I was willing to a point.

“Looks like gang-banger central.”

“Hermanos Mayan.”

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?” I muttered. “They carry machetes.”

“Who doesn’t, these days?”

“Us! Vermin, this is NOT the pace a couple of whiter ‘n shit guys oughta be this time of night.”

“That’s why I brought these.”

He handed me a black hoodie and yanked his own on. I slipped into it and he led into the abandoned house’s yard.

“What’re we doing?” I asked, getting really nervous.

“I just wanna show you -- .”

“This is somebody’s place -- !”

“The bank’s. They foreclosed and tossed the people rentin’ it out. Then they gave up on it.”


“Nope. The fuckin’ bank’s in Germany and hthe loan’s covered by the Feds. They don’t give a shit about LA.”

We entered the house and sure enough, talk about neglect; if it’d had copper pipes or wires anyplace, they’d been ripped off by people scavenging for craps to sell, for sure, considering how shredded the walls and floor were. I heard rats and cats and all kinds of skittery noises and nearly fell face forward twice thanks to crap scattered all over the floor. I’ve never been so relieved as when Vermin led me into the back yard and over to an opening in the left corner of the fence. He put a finger to his lips and slipped into the yard, next door. I followed.

We crept up to a decent-enough stucco bungalow. Not much grass for the yard. Toys for a toddler scattered about. Folding chairs set up near an old cable-roller used as a table -- I never could figure out what those things were called. A couple of plants hung from hooks screwed into the eaves and were barely alive. The narrow windows had bars with vines growing up and over them, and a ten-year-old Corolla sat in a driveway barely big enough for it.

Vermin stopped and smiled then pointed to an ear. I listened but only heard a shower running. He grinned and nodded then whispered, “Right on time.”

“You’ve been here before?” I barely whispered back.

He nodded and held up three fingers.

Fuck, Vermin was a peeping tom! Why didn’t I know this about the little snake?

We slipped over to a window, my heart pounding. Never in my life would I have thought of me capable of sneaking a peek in somebody’s private home, but here we were, aiming to do just that. He held me back and looked in, first, carefully moving vines aside to do so. I heard the shower cut off and gripped his arm, but he all but jiggled with excitement. He motioned me over and stepped back.

I held my breath and looked inside. It was a small bedroom jammed with a queen-sized bed, dresser, chest of drawers, end tables and a couple of straight-backed chairs. A closet door was open and clothes hung from it. A pretty Hispanic woman sat on the bed, cross-legged, her hair long and black, her skin tawny, reading a folder of papers. She wore nothing but panties and a t-shirt.

I glanced at Vermin, pissed. Women were NOT on the menu, idiot. He frantically indicated I should look back so I did -- and a moment later caught a good look as one very naked Latino male exited the bathroom, still drying his hair. But I didn’t need a glimpse of his face to see that he was built almost exactly like what our client wanted, had next to no hair on his torso but a nice amount swirling down his legs and had a nice hint of that macho swagger. But the best part was, swinging from a thick bush was a long, lovely dick and set of balls to match. He was uncut, but experience told me he had the kind of foreskin that’d stop showing halfway into his erection.

“That’s Tony?” I whispered to Vermin. He nodded.

Then the guy took the towel off his head and my breath whispered from me. He had what I call a Tele-novella face -- all square cheekbones and bright eyes and perfect lips with a chin to make any man envious. Vermin punched me in the arm to say, “Told you so.”

“Your turn,” he said in Spanish, but without a Mexican inflection.

I frowned at Vermin. He whispered, “Colombian.”

“Is there hot water left?” The woman spoke in regular English, and not like it was her second language.

Tony nodded. “You still work?” No question English was his second language, and recent acquisition, probably.

“Gotta be ready for tomorrow’s meeting,” she said as she got up. “Gonna be a real winner, this time.”

Tony grabbed one of her breasts, playfully, and said, “I’ll help you to be less tense,” in Spanish.

She swatted his hand away, laughing. “Tomorrow. Not tonight.”

“You say this yesterday night,” he said in a seductive voice as he spooned her.

“I told you, not till after the meeting,” she giggled, pulling away. “Tomorrow night, okay?”

He sighed...and I nearly sighed with him, because he’d started to get a boner and what a lovely one it would be.

She vanished into the bathroom and he flopped back on the bed...and his dick flopped back with him. He started to play with himself and I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding, it was so loud. But then Tony dipped down next to the bed, showing his exquisite ass off, reappeared with a pair of basketball shorts and yanked them on.

Vermin nudged me and we backed away from the house. 
Dunno what's going on with this story, right now; just using it to be pissy in a way that'll make life down here easier.

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