Nut-Nut, The Slap & Tickle Show, And The Devil Himself, ​Crisco Jones. 

 I am being followed by the cutest little dog. En route to my newest “gig”, I am being stalked by a little brown dog. Actually, I am enticing him with a big bag of Orange Circus Peanuts. He loves candy. Don’t we all, though?   I‘ve got a new client. Actually, I am being paid by an old client, a man who I have never actually seen but has hired my services for his clients before. To service his clients if the truth is told.  A commodities broker. Which in this town:  if you are thin, under 30 and Gay you are a commodity, and the gay part can be waived.  This man or legend if you will, has a reputation as being a very shrewd businessman, who never stops smiling. He supposedly has big red glossy lips and often drools.   I have heard stories of people who tried to screw him, his huge smile and how they sort of disappear after that. I am a bit scared of this client. He goes by the name Crisco Jones. I have heard several theories as to where he got the name. Sometimes I choose to believe, ( despite all the facts telling me otherwise,) that some things do not exist in the world.    Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, and Fisting are 3 examples.   Regardless of his history. Adventures with Crisco are always exciting and the money kicks ass.  Perry will not be happy when he finds out that I am “trading sweetness” (my term for escorting), but I am only doing what I know how. When I know something different, I will do things differently.  My driver is obviously lost. Crisco always sends a car. The windows are tinted. This time I will be blindfolded. The location is secret.   For this time is different, special you might say. I am being paid three times as much for my” services”. I am going to THE SLAP & TICKLE SHOW. Very secret.  I have only heard people very whacked out talking about it.  I really do not know of anybody who has actually gone to one. It has all been second hand.  There are 5 roles for us working boys that will be filled tonight. 4 of us will be crowd control and the fifth is the main attraction. He has worked his way up to the main stage. He is voted on; you are selected to be the number one boi. He becomes the main event at the SLAP & TICKLE SHOW.   WHATEVER! Call me anything you like:  just pay in cash, small bills please, and if you see me in church, please don’t say hello.   The boi will put on a show for only 4 or five of the event producers and the leading Elder himself.  It will be a private show, no one has ever seen one of these, and us floor boys will be gone by the time that happens. You see, this is not the normal gum funky $40 poke behind the Dunkin Donuts. This is like finishing schools for us working boys, and I truly hope I am finished soon.   At the risk of sounding crass, can an ass fall out? Let us pray. Seriously! Stop reading this and pray for me for a second. I will insert a big gap in the text so that you can easily find your place again when you are through. Please do this, this old whore is tired. I would appreciate it so.         Thank you.  This dog is strange. He just sits there and stares at me. Sorta like he knows me or something.  Anyhow, I would love to take him home. Perry wants a puppy. Perry and I are back together now. So I will perhaps propose the idea to him when I get home.  The car is coming.  I can see it down the street. A black Rolls Royce. The door opens and I am asked to get in. As soon as I enter, a black leather hood is put over my head. Not being able to see, I can breathe easily. I am told to sit back and relax, I will be released of my headwear when we arrive, and Mr. Crisco Jones is satisfied that our location is unknown to us.  I am offered a bitter tasting warm beverage and find myself falling into a deep sleep. THE SLAP & TICKLE SHOW is very secret. The hired boys are very young….very young.   I mean young.    I can not stress how important it is that you realize how young some of us are. Young! So you do the math and realize why this is so secret. It is almost as if Digby fell through the looking glass.   We all awake and find ourselves in a very strange place.  Four of us young boys, nude, shaved, bathed, and woozy are all intertwined on a large bed. We soon realize we are in the showroom. The lower level, where we are is filled with the smell of opium, and the oversized bed we are now on. The room is dark, and the only thing really visible is the smooth white skins of our young hairless bodies catching the red lights scattered around the room.  An eerie chant is pumped through the sound system.  Us boys are feeling very lascivious, something in the sleeping potion we drank, I suspect.  We are all intertwined and slowly making love.  Around the perimeter of the room we are suddenly made aware of the presence of many older men. They have small masks over their faces. They are nude, erect and closing in from all sides. We realize what we must do. Us boys turn and face the perimeter of the room and welcome the men into our beds and bodies.  Now this is really the part I hate about being a prostitute. It is so hard to expect respect from people when we let these strange men enter our bodies and lose themselves in us.  Our actions speak so much louder than words. That is the reason why so many of us rip off our johns.   But hey… it beats an office job.  Us boys turn and face the perimeter of the room and welcome the men into our beds and bodies. An hour or so of this goes on. We have taken all of the men, several times. I hate my life sometimes.    We are all worn out. The elders of THE SLAP & TICKLE SHOW are not. The main event is about to happen. We are not allowed to be apart of this.  This is when the party moves to another room, we are paid our cash and we go about our ways.  The main event takes place on a small stage, elevated at the front of the room.   The curtains are drawn but small glimpses of light can be seen sneaking through the cracks. The music increases in tempo and volume, as the curtains are drawn. Standing center stage in a bright white shaft of brilliant white light is a young blonde boy. He can only be twelve, if that. He has a small strip of black leather covering his eyes. He is small, wet, and malnourished. He looks weak, yet the white lights give his young body an angelic glow. It is almost as if his innocence exceeds the perimeter of his body. I feel this strange need to place my palm along his cheek and tell him to go home, I’ll take his place. I am attracted to this young man, not in the way that these older men are, but almost as an older brother.  I want to protect him. His hands are bound above him.  The elders slowly leave us and descend upon the little stage. The curtains close around the boy being surrounded by the old men. The private meeting of the BOIS CLUB is about to begin.   Strip lights are turned on, and the rest of us “young” boys are left in the stark white lights staring at our wet, marked up bodies. I honestly feel very old right now. and we all prepare to leave. We are ushered into a locker room where we find our bags, fresh towels, complimentary bottles of penicillin, and fresh fruits and juices. We will be taken back to our homes in 20 minutes. We all ready ourselves in silence.  Grabbing my bag, I choose a shower out of the way in the back.   It is funny how gang bangs tend to make me isolate.   Alone in my dressing room I watch myself in the mirror. I watch the way I move, I am overwhelmed with thoughts. Perhaps it was the sleeping potion, but my mind is seriously racing.   “What are you doing? You can’t do this your whole life. You have the most beautiful husband at home. He wants better for you. You want better for you. I can see the life I want…a home in Victoria Park …a large porch… big windows filled with soft sunlight. …waking with my beautiful husband Perry…. Having careers… having dinner parties… paying bills… address labels with both our names on it… people leaving our yearly Christmas  parties and thanking us for yet another great time. .. I can dream this life so clearly. Between me and this life though, like a huge divide. I need to know how to get over to that side. “   But how?  I look up and see myself in the mirror.  I am covered in strange men’s fluids, and wonder why I can not seem to respect myself.   I wonder about God. I stop quickly, because it freaks me out to think about God whilst I am undressed or at sex parties.  Tickle Tickle! I look down, and my little doggy friend is licking my ankle and giving me that look again. How did he get here? He has been in my bag the whole time eating all of my circus peanuts.  Silly dog! He must have jumped in when I waiting for the driver to collect me. He is adorable and  has orange circus peanut all over his little brown face. And I swear he is grinning at me. I will call him Nut Nut.   Nut Nut, runs off barking.  Fuck it all to hell I say! I run after him, because I am sure to get in trouble for having him here. He is tearing off through the back of the shower room, and out a back door. God dammit! He is off, and I am following him through the back hallways of a rather large and ornate looking home. Lots of rooms and paintings.  And these floors that are really made of wood and not Pergo, like every one else I know. I am impressed.  Over a rug I trip and go rolling down the hall and land flat on my back. I look up and realize that my head is sticking through a curtain separating my body. My body is is one room and my head is in another strange place. I am looking up at the bottom of a table. I am in the Main Room. I might get to see the main event at the SLAP & TICKLE SHOW.  I can hear the grunting and heavy breathing of the elders, as well as a strange chemical smell, like that out of a high school science lab. I start to slide out of the room, when I see the most startling thing. Right in front of my face I see the little Blonde boy’s head stretched back over the side of the table. I jump and look into his eyes. I silently put my finger over my lips to let him know to be silent( which is very silly because he is gagged very tightly anyway ) We are staring into each others eyes. He is scared. I am scared. He has a very small tear running down his cheek, I watch it in slow motion as it rolls of his white soft face and lands on my soft white cheek to finally land in my eye. He slowly opens his eyes very wide; I think he is being penetrated again. I get so angry. Only this time, his eyes open so wide that I think they might fall out. I want to scream I am so enraged at these men for taking this boy’s….suddenly and slowly blood pours down both sides of his neck. Down and through his long blonde hair it pours slowly down onto my own. His eyes are still open…and still. He is still.   I am still. I do not move at all. I am frightened.   I sit for what feels like hours wishing I could disappear. I hear the Elders slowly, withdraw from the room. When I can see that all the men’s feet are gone, I get up off the floor and I swear to god, I see my small lifeless wet weak body bound to the table.  They killed a boy. I watch a part of me die. I cry.