Which is stupid.
Not sure where this will end. It's going to be one of those stories where anything could happen. It's a straightforward kidnap and rape, then release. Nicky could wind up liking what happened and blackmails Rett into continuing the charade. It might even turn around and Rett be the intended target with Nicky as bait. Or both could be.
I'm going to let the story tell itself and see where it goes on its own. Right now, I have about 5000 words in place, with more ready to go. Here's some of them:
-----
I found out his full name was Nicholas McNevin Chase. From some small town in Nebraska that I don’t think is there, anymore. Very corn-fed, middle-American background. Moved to LA straight out of high school and, thanks to his amazing looks, landed modeling jobs, straight off. Even got an agent with connections to the big-dog advertising groups. His casual masculine grace and obvious heterosexual sensuality made him big. Got him on sit-coms and cop shows in a walk-on basis. Not the best of actors, but workable.
What I liked most about him, aside from his Greek-god physique, was how he didn’t shave his body like so many other guys did. He had lovely whispers of hair over his pecs and belly as well as up and down his legs. Nor did he get caught up in the latest male coif-fad but kept himself simple and eternal in look and style.
Of course, he had a slavish gay following on YouTube, Tumblr, and a dozen other sites of varying decency and reach. And of course there were all kinds of questions about his sexuality, but nothing absolute. He was seen with women, palling around with men, traveling all over the world to do his job. He was the epitome of impossible expectations.
He was also known to be a real asshole to anyone who recognized him and wanted a selfie or something. I happened to catch one encounter, on the pathway.
I’d set up cameras to record during the time he normally zoomed past and got some fine images of him in all his glory. But on one occasion he nearly ran a woman down. Had to jump into the sand to keep from hitting her. He was pissed, of course. How dare she get in his way? Then she recognized him as he brushed sand off himself and became apologetic and tried to get a photo of him on her cell phone, but he grabbed the phone from her and threw it onto the beach. Then off he went as she scrambled to retrieve it.
Making my lust for him even more glorious.
Of course, Ben and Liam being the observant critters that they were they caught on to my obsession with Nicky and once even let me know when he was using the skate park for his pleasure. After that, I made a point of being close by and, when Nicky did divert himself to rolling and running and jumping and all the attendant nonsense, I’d get some lovely shots of him. Always in shorts. Always shirtless. And never falling. Which I found remarkable. But not one cut or scrape ever appeared on his amazingly smooth skin, that I could see.
I know he noticed my interest. After a couple months of me appearing at the park while he was there, he cast me sharp wary glares and kept on with his business before scooting away. I think he figured I was just paparazzi.
What he didn’t know was...well, I was scoping him out to see the best way into his pants. And I don’t meant just to suck him off; I mean ass and...well, he had the epitome of that infamous movie saying, “You sure got a purty mouth.”
And I didn’t care whether he wanted to do it or not.
Which, of course, begged the question...just how far was I willing to go to get into Nicky’s pants? The answer? To be honest, I had no idea.
For the first time in my life I had money, a career I wanted, respect from people who mattered, nothing worse than a speeding ticket on my record, and access to any number of guys I might want. Even better? I was still young enough to enjoy it.
So why was I obsessing over a man I didn’t even know...and seriously considering the possibility of raping him? Was I being arrogant. Narcissistic? Self-destructive? No idea.
It was a new notion to me and where I knew I should be feeling revulsion at even the thought...I didn’t.
Which I do not understand.
I’ve always thought of myself as an empathetic kind of guy. Sure, I’ve got a temper and attitude, but it’s not the core of my being. Caring about others is. Or was. But my growling need to have Nicky in my bed, no matter what, made me wonder just how serious I was about caring for the well-being of others.
And my head and heart told me flat out, Depends on what you want, just like with anyone.
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