Thursday, November 13, 2008

Nighborhood Fag

Neighborhood Fag

Vinnie lived in the neighborhood and it was clear what he was, a fag, that the kids taunted and made fun of him as he skipped by on the streets. But the taunting was good natured and it was interesting how red and embarrassed I’d turn as we all called after him “Faggot!” then run away down the street, laughing and teasing each other to go back to him.

Vinnie was a hairdresser who ran his business from his apartment, just one flight up the stairs. Many older women paid him a call and his place was always packed with women gossiping and waiting their turns to get preened over.

I had heard he’d pay an easy five bucks for just sitting there as he’d blow you but I never knew a guy who did that; at least no one admitted that they did it. I sure was glad that no one saw how hard I had gotten, as they’d laugh and smirk over how much money Vinnie would give them.

Hell, but five dollars? I said to myself, intrigued over the easy money I could get. I wasn’t getting that nowhere else, that’s for sure.

I knew Vinnie took off on Saturday afternoons -- learned this from the guys -- so at 3pm I was standing in the outside doorway next to his, watching a woman leave his house; I knew that this was a customer, her hair was expertly made up that it looked like she was going out for the night, dancing and drinking…or something, but defiantly screwing..

I smoked two more cigarettes -- that should have given him enough time -- and entered his building.

The smell of perfume and hairspray was prevalent with each step I took up and neared his door. But the smell of women who had been there made my approach more enticing and alluring. My dick was hard and eager and if I just concentrated on that, how women smell, I’m sure I would let him suck and kiss me all night long, as long as my eyes would be kept closed. If I can’t see what he’s doing than it ain’t happening, right?

I listened; faint music hummed through the door which only added to the sexual tension I was feeling. I gently knocked on the door, waited an instant then knocked again, louder and firmer. I heard gentle footsteps shuffling to the door -- I thought of things feminine. The door opened…

Vinnie stood in a robe; his face creamed and adorned with makeup, something I had never seen a man in before and for a moment was surprised.

“Oh, my,” he said, all flustered. “But I can’t do you now, sweetie,” looking me up and down, but he gushed, “I’m waiting for my beau.” And he winked at me. “Come back another time, sweetie, like tomorrow, late afternoon.”

There was nothing to do but shrug and turn around and head back down…

But I still recall the scent of perfumes that were prevalent through the hall as I passed through the door and went back outside…

A pity I never dared to go back…


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