Skin%
06 Interlude (in the key of Lust)
Jordie stood near the end of the stage, bobbing to the music and sipping the blue daiquiri someone had handed him. He was shirtless, with a silver chain and skull pendant around his neck, and wearing a pair of neoprene chaps over an orange jock. Ratch had sprayed his crew cut with some bright purple hairspray, and teased it into twisted little spikes.
A shirtless guy about his age came close, banging to the groove as well, and Jordie admired his red and purple mohawk and studded leather jeans.
"Hey," the guy said, sounding slightly stoned. He reached out to feel Jordie's stomach. "You're fuckin' hot, bro. And I really dig the tattoo. You must really love this band." He snickered, even as his eyes stayed fixed on Jordie's chest and abs.
"Yeah, I really do love these guys," Jordie grinned. He winked at the other boy. "You're a hot fucker too."
The other guy looked a little shy and bit his lip. "I don't have a sister," he smirked. "But I'll take you up on the rest of it."
"Ya want to go somewhere?" Jordie asked him, his eyes dancing. "I know a place, real close."
"Yah?" the guy responded, in more ways than one. "Fuck yeah, man. You're a fuckin dream come true."
Jordie bent down and flung the other kid over his shoulder. As the kid laughed his ass off, he ducked behind the stage and into the shop. "Using the back, Lulz," he said as he trotted past the grinning man.
"Don't use a rubber!" Lulz yelled after him, startling a couple customers in the shop. "How am I supposed to get grandkids if you use rubbers?"
Jordie woke the sleeping man in the recliner. "Dad, let's get you to bed," he said quietly.
"Did you have a good time?" the man asked sleepily.
"Yeah, Dad, I had a great time," Jordie grinned. "You didn't have to wait up for me."
"Well, it was nice of those guys to offer you the job and invite you to their concert," his dad said sleepily. "Wanted to thank them."
"You can thank them later dad," Jordie said, as he half-carried the older man down the hallway to his bedroom.
"Got to get up early for work," his dad yawned.
"No, dad," Jordie told him. "It's all taken care of, you can stop stressing over it. You don't have to work two jobs anymore."
"Well, you're still going to need stuff for college..." his dad mumbled as Jordie laid him down on his bed.
"I got it covered, dad," Jordie grinned. His dad looked up at him, in the early dawn light coming through the bedroom window.
"What the hell are you wearing, son?" he asked. He stared for a moment, then shrugged. "Looks damned good on you though." He drifted off to sleep.
Jose, Rob, and the other wrestlers exchanged smirks as Jordie came in and went to his locker. His back to them, Jordie started changing for practice.
It was long past the end of wrestling season, but the coach kept arranging "exhibition" matches with other schools, for the express purpose of attracting the attention of college scouts. The purpose was well-known in the area, and some scouts were so brazen as to demand line-up changes, in order to pit two prospective scholarship recipients against each other. It was the only place in the country where scouts could do this openly, and they took advantage of it.
"How was your weekend, Jordie?" Jose, or "Hose", asked snidely.
"Pretty good," Jordie said over his shoulder. "Got offered a job after graduation, they even asked me to start before then, part-time. Caught a concert with my favorite band, met some new people... Had a fuckin great time." He sounded very pleased with himself, as he chuckled.
Rob looked suspicious as Jordie took off the silver-and-skull necklace that none of them had seen before. "Anything else?" He'd had a really shitty weekend, and was in a nasty mood.
"Spent Sunday with my dad for a change, which was nice," Jordie shrugged. "Why?"
"What about the tattoo, man?" one of the other guys complained.
"Oh, that, " Jordie said, nodding slightly. "Yeah, I got a tattoo. Since you guys didn't specify, at the time of the bet, what the tatt was supposed to be, or where, I got something I liked. A bit bigger than the one some of you wusses suggested, but that's just tough tits, isn't it?"
"What'd you get?" one of the other guys asked, intrigued.
"It's a song title, one by my favorite band," Jordie smirked over his shoulder. He slipped on his jock and turned around, looking at Rob with a sneer on his face. "It means a lot to me, you see."
In an arc over his eight-pack, were the words, "Your Sister", in large block letters. Below this, in a single bar just above his navel, were the words, "Made Me Gay". Below that, in a convex arc, were the words, "And Now It's Your Turn."
Rob, whose sister had a reputation surpassing Typhoid Mary (according to public health), Lizzie Borden (according to urban legend), and the Whore of Babylon (testimonials provided upon request) combined, stared at the words. The blood rushed to his head and his eyes bulged. He started to shake and he clenched his teeth.
"You fucking homo queer faggot whore! " he screamed at the top of his lungs, attracting the attention of the coach, who had been around the corner. The coach stuck his head around the corner as Rob ripped the door off a locker and heaved it at Jordie. Jordie ducked, and the door embedded itself in the lockers, above his head and vibrating.
As Rob ripped the bench next to him out of the floor, the coach, followed by several other guys, tackled Rob and pinned him to the floor.
"What the fuck ha-" the coach started, but Jordie was ready.
"I am fucking tired of this shit," he told the coach angrily. "These fucking losers harass me day and night, until I can't compete worth shit or study for my classes. You make every fucking excuse for them, and then blame me for their screw-ups. My dad was right. We ought to be suing you and the school for the scholarships I lost out on, since Hose and Rob started running this team. Go fuck yourself!"
Jordie grabbed his clothes and duffel bag and stomped out of the locker room.
Students and teachers stared as he stalked down the hall, dressed only in his jockstrap, to the boy's bathroom, to change. When he came out, the principal was standing there.
"If you people say one more word to me, I will go to the papers and I will tell them everything you allowed to happen to me," he said, wiping tears from his eyes. He'd been laughing pretty hard in the bathroom.
"But-" the woman started.
"Do you really want to go there," Jordie warned.
"In view of the, ah, ordeal you've been through, we've decided that you can take the rest of the semester off," the principal told him, rushing her words. "You won't need to take finals, or go through the, ah, hassle of the graduation ceremony. And we will be glad to adjust your grades to reflect what they should have been, so there is no misunderstanding. I'm sure you'll find that your new grade point average would attract the attention of several very good colleges."
Jordie drew himself up and glared at the woman. "My dad has been looking forward to seeing me walk across that stage and receive my diploma, for the last thirteen years," he said quietly, as the woman's face went chalk-white. "You would take that away, from a single dad who has been working three jobs to support his only son?"
"No!" the woman said brightly. "You misunderstand. I just know that in these situations, others tend to blame the victim, and there are hard feelings and harsh words exchanged. But, really, we would be honored for you to go through graduation with your classmates, and we will do everything in our power to make it just as wonderful and memorable as it should be." Her grin froze on her face for a moment. "In fact, when the caps and gowns come in later this week, don't even worry about having to pick it up, I will drive it over to you myself."
"Fine," Jordie sighed, deflating. "I just want this all to be over, so my dad doesn't have to worry and stress over it and worry himself sick and..." He bit back a sob, and put his hands over his eyes.
"Why don't you go home, and relax, take some time for yourself," the principal told him, squirming. "Would you like me to get someone to drive you home? Oh, and I will give you a list of counseling services, so you can find ways to deal with this appropriately. Not to worry, the school will pay for any services you need, okay?"
"I have my bike," Jordie told her, subdued. "My motorbike. My friends gave it to me this weekend. Rob went nuts on me when he found out." Actually, Ratch had brought it over, built of spare parts and one of Wrecks's wrecks, Sunday afternoon. Ratch had also fixed Jordie's dad's old air conditioner as well.
"Okay, just follow me to the office," she told him. She scurried away as fast as her high heels could take her.
"Jordie! " a piercing wail in three-part harmony assaulted his ears, followed by the arms of three of the cheerleaders assaulting his body, in the form of a hug. "We were so worried about you!" "You are okay, aren't you?" "We were so terrified! "
Meanwhile, he felt hands dig into the pockets of the black jeans he'd worn out of defiance, and he looked down at the girls, confused.
"I don't know how you did it, but I'm naming my first baby after you," the head cheerleader muttered to him.
"If you weren't gay, I'd be doing my best to turn your pelvis inside-out," her best friend told him.
"Me too," the dumbest blonde in school told him.
"Oh, it was awful, but thinking of you helped me get through it," Jordie pouted as he gathered them into a big hug.
"Oh, god, are you sure you're gay?" the best friend gasped.
"Jordie, your hugs are better than sex," the head cheerleader whispered.
"And you're hot," the blonde nodded.
He'd barely taken two steps when one of the chess club geeks grabbed him by both biceps.
"Jordie, bro, I just heard!" the geek told him. He flung his arm around Jordie, and he felt something slip into his back pocket. "God, man, I was freaking, when saw them draggin Rob out, and people were saying you'd gone to the hospital. Man, I don't know what to say." His voice dropped. "Except any time you want a blow-job, just let me know." Jordie felt the boy's hand pat his ass.
"Thanks, bro, it means a lot to me," Jordie told him, hugging him back. "Know the tattoo shop, Skin%?" he whispered.
"Uh, yeah?"
"Meet me there during business hours, any time."
By the time Jordie made it to the office, his front pockets were fairly bulging and crackling.
"I don't fucking care, keep that psychopathic brat off school property," the principal was snarling to a white-faced police officer. "Oh, Jordie. Here's that list I promised you." She smiled sweetly at him.
"Ah, young man, we would like to get your statement, before you go," the police officer informed him.
"Jordie," the principal said politely but firmly. "The police have plenty of witnesses, as well as evidence from the scene. Not to mention the two officers Rob also tried to attack," she mentioned, through clenched teeth. "I'm sure there is no reason for them to continue Rob's campaign of harassment. I'm sure they recognize you've had a terrible ordeal, and only want to see you be able to put it all behind you."
"I just want to get out of here," Jordie complained bitterly. "I'm already late for my after-school job, and I don't want to lose it. I lose that, every chance of going to any college at all is ruined. Why won't you people just leave me alone?"
"Ah, no, that's fine," the officer nodded, his eyes terrified.
In the parking lot, as he put on the "shorty" half helmet Ratch had given him, he dug into his pocket and looked at the wad of bills. He shoved them back in and started the motorcycle, driving off.
"So how was school?" Wrecks asked chattily, as he walked into the shop.
"Worked just like we thought," Jordie told him. "And afterwards, the school was falling over themselves to make me happy." He shrugged. "It gets me out of, oh, four days of classes and three days of finals, but I get to graduate, and they'll change my grade point."
He put his helmet down on the counter and started pulling wads of bills out of his pockets. He dropped them, handful by handful, into the helmet. Wrecks whistled at the sight of all the fifties and hundreds. There were quite a few twenties as well.
"What the fuck?" Wrecks whispered.
"Has the Monster been busy today?" Jordie asked.
"Been quiet all day, why?" Wrecks asked.
"Kids started coming up to me in the hall, worried about my welfare, thanking me very quietly for whatever it was I did, and stuffing thank you presents in my pockets," Jordie told him. "And quite a few offers of sex." He reached into the back pocket and pulled out a prepaid credit card. "I'm keeping this one, he wrote his number on it."
"And the rest?" Wrecks asked.
"Mind if we have a graduation party here?" Jordie asked. "Use this to buy all the food and booze and shit.
"Was kind of planning something like that anyway," Wrecks nodded. "Go on to the back, your friend is still here."
"Friend?" Jordie asked.
"Red and purple mohawk?" Wrecks reminded him. "Pants that he can't seem to find? Name that he can't seem to remember?"
"Oh really?" Jordie grinned. He paused and frowned. "Really? Still? "
"Yep," Wrecks nodded. "I'd threaten to charge him rent, but he seems smitten with you. Go say hi, fuck around a little, and get back out here. I need to show you the register and shit. And the guys are due to start playing again in four hours. You're working half of that."
"Gotcha, boss," Jordie nodded, trotting down the hall.
He found his friend in the back, laughing.
"That is totally boss, man!" he said, looking down. He was standing flat on Dare's feet, while Dare stood upside down on his fingertips.
The main thing that struck Jordie about his "friend" was the word "long". Even though the kid was shorter than Jordie, everything about him seemed too long for the rest. His arms looked longer than they should be, his body looked longer, his legs looked longer... His teeth were definitely long, he had the smile of champion race horse, an impression furthered by his uncut cock. Maybe it was the effect of the tight muscles, looking like they were stretched too far on his frame. He wasn't scrawny, really... He just kind of looked like it.
"Having fun?" Jordie laughed.
"Got to practice to have control," Dare told him. The young guy jumped down off his feet, and Dare flipped upright.
"Hey," the young guy said shyly, stopping a couple feet from Jordie, rubbing his hands up and down his own thighs nervously. "I, uh, wanted a chance to hang with you some more, if that's cope with you."
"Hell yeah," Jordie said, pulling him closer. "I want to get to know you."
"Really?" the guy said hopefully. "I mean, like, I got kind of worried when you didn't show yesterday, and all."
"Well, I had to get home, or my dad would really worry," Jordie explained. "And I wasn't really scheduled to work, didn't know you were still here until just now. Last time I talked to you, you said you were going to head out too."
"Kinda fell out for a few hours," the guy admitted, sheepishly. "And after that, just kinda hung out, shot the shit with the guys, ya know?"
"Okay," Jordie nodded. "So, are you going to tell me your name?"
"Oh, man, I never did, did I?" he laughed. "Man, I get kind of zoned sometimes, and things kinda go right over my head, and I get nervous, and I start talking a lot, and I kind of forget what I was... talking about."
Jordie grinned. "You still haven't told me your name."
"Aw," the guy laughed, embarrassed. "Uh, friends call me Twang."
"Why's that?" Jordie asked.
"Aw, cuz, I know it's weird, and all, but I really dig it, I mean..." he trailed off as Jordie waited. "I, uh, play steel guitar."
"No. Shit," Shant said, sitting upright. "Where's your guitar?"
"Um. I dropped it off with a friend, just outside of town, he's like real cool, and shit, said he'd watch it for me. He knew I was going through a real tank time, you know, and he was the one who suggested hanging out for Fetish Week, thought it would-"
"Jordie, can I borrow your bike?" Shant asked.
"Sure," Jordie nodded.
"Lulz, where's his pants?" Shant demanded.
"Under the cushion," Lulz told him thumping the couch between his legs.
"How'd it get there?"
"I put it there, Shant," Lulz replied.
"Why?" Jordie asked.
"Because I didn't want him to leave," Lulz said. "I like him. Dare likes him. Wolf likes him. Jordie likes him. Everybody likes him. I want him to stay."
"Well, give him his pants, so we can go get his guitar," Shant told Lulz heatedly.
Lulz got up and reached under the cushion. He handed the pants to Twang.
"Hey, Jordie," Lulz said.
"Yeah, Lulz?" Jordie asked, as Twang skinned his leather jeans on.
"I really like your Twang," Lulz grinned.
"Haw! " Twang laughed. "Good one, Lulz!" He bumped his fist with Lulz's, leaving his pants hanging around his knees.
"Yeah, Lulz, I really like him too," Jordie laughed, slapping Twang on the ass.
