Date: Mon, 11 Feb 2008 16:55:26 -0500
From: Jonathan Brandis <jbrandis@myself.com>
Subject: Darren's Summer, Part 1

DISCLAIMER

This is a work of fiction, the places, people and situations depicted are
not real.  This story involves a college age male enticing young teenage
males into consensual sexual activities.  If such subject matter is illegal
where you live or if you are offended by it, do not read it.

DARREN'S SUMMER, PART 1

Darren had taken the programming job with the census bureau to pay off some
traffic tickets and help with his college expenses.  He never thought it
would help him pick up boys, but by the end of his spring semester
employment he began to notice patterns in the census data that would do
exactly that.  When summer arrived and the project ended, Darren drove home
with his closing paycheck and a stack of CDs containing census data he had
copied when no one was looking and slipped into his backpack.  It was all
public information, but would normally have cost him several hundred
dollars.  A nice bonus, he thought as he drove home from the creepy
government building for the last time.

He spent several long nights sorting and searching the data in different
combinations, when suddenly an inspiration hit.  It was so simple he
wondered if anyone who shared his secret craving had ever tried it before.
Using the program he had written over the summer, Darren searched the
database for neighborhoods with the most unmarried females as "head of
household," the lowest per capita income, the highest percentage of renters
in multiple family dwellings (governmentspeak for apartment buildings)
built before 1970, and the largest number of males between 13 and 17.

In those dry-as-dust census statistics, Darren saw his opportunity.  Cheap,
rundown older apartments.  Harried single mothers working two or three jobs
just to make ends meet, and no time to keep an eye on their kids.  Divorced
fathers out of the picture, ducking alimony.  And packs of bored, broke
teenage boys on the loose with no adult supervision.

By the next morning, his laptop screen listed two neighborhoods, one only
about ten miles away from his tiny bachelor apartment near the university.
Score, he thought to himself as he slurped some soggy Cheerios from a
plastic bowl and stared at the screen.  The nearby neighborhood that his
program had obediently located sometime during the night was going to be
Darren's playground for the next three months.  He clicked the mouse and
highlighted the name on the screen: Wilton Heights.  Fuckin' score, Darren
thought to himself, and felt his dick start to stiffen in his boxers.  This
was going to be one bitchin' summer.

He cruised through Wilton Heights around mid-morning on Monday, driving
through row after row of empty carports behind low-life apartment
buildings.  Mom's at work, Darren thought with satisfaction as he turned
down another back alley, and Dad doesn't even exist.  Around ten o'clock
the first of what he knew would be a flood of bored adolescent males
started to filter down from the apartments into the alleys and streets.
They were exactly as Darren had pictured: shaggy-haired 'white trash' kids
in worn jeans and black t-shirts with names of punk and heavy metal bands,
either barefoot or in ratty, dirty sneakers.  Skateboards appeared, and the
carport alleys echoed with the sound he loved: skateboard wheels on rough
asphalt pavement.

It was a hot summer day, and as the temperature rose, the black t-shirts
started to come off, revealing the incredible variety of shapes and sizes
of teenage male bodies that Darren craved.  Large nipples and both 'inny'
and 'outy' belly buttons were everywhere.  By noon Darren had zeroed in on
one apartment building that seemed to have mostly younger boys he estimated
were between 13 and 15.  He jotted down the name of the apartment complex
in his notebook.

The boys seemed to be attracted to a tiny mom-and-pop liquor and grocery
store opposite the apartments, and Darren noticed several skateboards lying
wheels-up near the entrance.  Curious, he crossed the street and went in.

The store was dark, with unappealing merchandise lined up on dusty shelves.
Dimly lit coolers contained beer and bags of party ice.  An elderly Middle
Eastern man sat silently reading an Arabic newspaper next to the cash
register.  In a cluttered alcove at the back of the store, Darren noticed a
small bathroom with its door slightly ajar, and two ancient arcade-style
video games surrounded by shirtless boys.  Tinny music and sound effects
blended with laughter and adolescent voices as Darren approached.

He watched with interest as two of the boys, he guessed around 14 or 15,
opened one of the lighted coolers against the opposite wall, each taking
out a tall can of beer.  To his amazement, they took the cans to the
counter, where the elderly proprietor took their money and made change with
no more interest than if they had purchased candy.  After a while, another
boy around 14 walked to the counter, asked for a brand of cigarettes, and
handed his money to the owner in exchange for a cellophane-wrapped pack.
When the boy returned to the video game alcove, he lit a cigarette and
passed it around to his friends.

No wonder they like this place so much, Darren thought.  He stepped over to
one of the game machines, where a cute, shirtless boy of maybe 13 was
playing a space-war game while a friend watched.  Darren noticed he was
slightly overweight but was starting to get a few muscles.  He quickly
lost, and as the game played its silly loser music, the boy searched the
pockets of his jeans for another quarter and quickly said "Fuck, I'm out."

Darren stepped forward and fed the machine a quarter, and the game came
back to life with a barrage of lame sound effects.  "Thanks, dude," the boy
grinned as he resumed his play.  "I'm Tyler."

"Mind if I watch, Tyler?" Darren asked, and the boy grunted an
unintelligible reply.  The college student leaned against the machine and
stared at the boy's bare chest and stomach, particularly admiring his large
swollen nipples and 'outy' belly button.

After a couple of nervous glances Tyler asked, "you gonna watch the game or
me?"  Darren let his silence answer for him as the continued to look
lustfully at the boy's shirtless body.  To Darren's delight, Tyler nudged
his friend with a wicked grin but continued to play the game, allowing the
twenty-two-year-old to go on enjoying the view his quarter had paid for.

As Darren's eyes wandered down to the inch of bare skin between Tyler's
navel and the waistband of his boxers that was visible above his low-slung
jeans, the two boys at the other game machine turned and headed for the
filthy bathroom in the alcove.  Suddenly the elderly proprietor shouted,
"Hey, one at a time."  The bathroom, or at least preventing multiple
customers from entering it together, seemed to be the only thing the old
man cared about, Darren thought.  After the two boys had used the restroom
-- one at a time -- the elderly man went back to perusing his foreign
newspaper.

During the hour he had spent in the store, Darren noticed two adults had
entered the store, purchased six-packs of beer, and left.  Unfortunately,
he realized, this meant he couldn't count on any privacy in the back aisle
of the store, certainly not enough for what he had in mind.  Any fun he
intended to have would have to be in the restroom, which the old man
apparently watched like a hawk.  He had a bold -- actually crazy -- idea,
and after making sure no other customers were about to enter from the
store's tiny parking lot, he approached the elderly storekeeper.

Darren swallowed hard, unsure how the old man would respond to what he was
about to say.  Nevertheless, he decided, complete honesty was the only way
to make this deal work.  He pulled a fifty dollar bill from his wallet, and
placed it on the counter as he spoke softly to the Middle Eastern man.

"I come here because I like boys," Darren said in a near-whisper.  The old
man grimaced slightly, but after glancing at the fifty, waited silently for
the rest.  "If I take a boy to the bathroom, I want you to leave us alone."
The man thought it over for a moment, picked up the fifty and returned to
reading his newspaper.  When Darren returned to the video games and the
boys, he noticed the elderly proprietor wasn't even watching him.

Tyler's quarter ran out just as Darren approached.  The boy who had been
with Tyler had joined the others at the machine nearer the restroom.
Dropping another quarter into Tyler's machine, Darren watched him restart
the game, and began speaking softly to the handsome boy.

"You live around here?"

"Yeah," the boy replied.  Without taking his eyes off the game he added
that he lived in the apartment building Darren had written down the name of
earlier while driving around the neighborhood.  "We're all four from
there."

Darren nodded.  "How old are you, dude?"

"Thirteen."

Darren had guessed right.  He noticed the teen was speaking softly too,
almost in a conspiratorial tone.  He glanced once more toward the counter;
the old man wasn't watching.

"Could you get into makin' some easy money, Tyler?"

"Hell yeah."

END OF PART 1