In the Ring by James Lear

Author:James Lear
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2018-04-03T16:00:00+00:00

09

Getting inside Tom Jackson’s ass was not going to be easy. Jackson was not like the rest of the lost boys. Jackson was a well-balanced, intelligent young man with healthy self-esteem and no obvious signs of emotional distress. He was using Vaughan every bit as much as Vaughan was using him. He knew Vaughan’s secrets, and in return for absolute discretion he could pretty much name his price. One word from Jackson and the whole Vaughan empire would be blown to pieces. He must be one hell of a fuck. I intended to find out.

I was in reception at four o’clock sharp. Jackson kept me waiting for twenty minutes, then came out of the office looking as crisp and clean as the moment he’d walked in. He was on the phone, acknowledging my presence with a nod of the head. You’d never have known this was a fuckmeet. I like these little games. I like the guys who pretend they don’t want it. It makes the conquest sweeter. I like to look into their eyes when the last bit of pretense melts away. And then, when all dignity has been fucked out of them, they show me the truth. Yes, Tom Jackson, in your tailored shirt and your ass-hugging slacks, I will break you down.

I was hard. I stood up and let him see. He glanced down, then up, nodded as if he’d been reminded of a business appointment, and continued his conversation. It was dreary stuff about venues, insurance, security . . . I tuned out, and watched his ass as he leaned against the desk, sticking it out at me, reminding me of the prize. It worked. My mouth was watering as I thought of how good it would taste when I ate him out before sticking my dick in him . . .

“Okay, Greg. Are you ready?”

I must have looked more than usually stupid as I came out of my daydream. “Huh?”

“Let’s get out of here.” He put on his jacket.

It was dark in the street, the air full of dirty drizzle.

“Where are you taking me?” he demanded.

“What?”

“Are we going for a drink? It’s too early for dinner.” He looked at his watch: stylish, steel, expensive. “Well?”

“Where do you live?”

Jackson ignored the question. “I suppose you don’t know Manchester very well yet. At least, not the kind of places I would like.” He looked me in the eye. “Unless you’ve been well briefed.”

That gave me a shock. I acted dumb. “The only places I know are the Manchester Arena, City Fitness, and the pizza place near my flat.” What the fuck did he mean, briefed? Was he on to me? The idea flitted across my mind that he, too, was a mole in the Vaughan operation. Surely someone would have warned me. I raised my guard, while trying to look stupid and horny. “If you’re hungry, I’ll buy you a pizza after I fuck you.”

“Oh, Greg, Greg,” he said, in a mocking voice, “if you think I’m going back to whatever dump you call home for a shag and a takeaway, you are very much mistaken.

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