Date: Tue, 28 Jun 2011 23:56:02 -0400
From: wild wing <wildwing66@hotmail.com>
Subject: Jason's Dilemma  -  Chapter nine

Mike was soon as excited as I was.  But initially he was dumfounded as to
why I felt we had found Jason.  I spent five minutes explaining the magic
book and Jason's love for the author Dermot Clark.  I also told Mike that
every boy I'd met on the street had a nickname.  It seemed Jason had chosen
one too.

"I hope the boy told you his name and how I would meet him," I stated.

"To tell you the truth I was so convinced it was a bogus call that I didn't
pay much attention.  Let me see....," Mike continued.  "Yes, now I recall.
He called himself Shaker and he mentioned some street.  He said you knew
where it was."

"Was it Walden Road?"

"That's it!  He said Walden Road," Mike confirmed.

I slept very little that night.  I was too alive with nervous energy, torn
between hopes of finding Jason and fear that this new lead would come to
nothing.  In the morning I bought a paper and chose a fine restaurant for
breakfast.  It was the first time I had splurged since my arrival, but I
should have saved my money - I don't think I tasted a bite of my food.

Breakfast over I realized I had time to kill before the planned evening
rendezvous.  I decided to look at Walden Road in the daytime.  Perhaps I'd
get lucky and find Shaker immediately.

The street was much as I expected.  With the cloak of night lifted I found
an ordinary commercial street just off the beaten track.  A series of small
office buildings marched down both sides.  Some were quite smart but most
were past their prime.  I walked the three block tract twice.  I didn't see
a single youngster.  I was wasting my time.

I decided to visit a popular park on the river front.  I threw a few stones
in the water and then watched a young family feed a flock of ravenous
ducks.  I sat on a bench and began to plan the future.  It was so simple.
I would find Jason tonight, drive home tomorrow, and we would live happily
ever after.

Dusk found me back at the top of Walden Road.  Since it was Thursday I
didn't expect too much action but it soon became clear there was some
activity nonetheless.  I got out and began to walk.

The very first alley produced a boy who looked as if he had crawled out of
a sewer.  He had an ugly scar on one cheek and he was in obvious need of a
barber.  When he noticed me staring at him he began groping himself with
two hands.  By outlining his organ through his pants he was showing me that
he was well hung.

"Want some action mister?  I don't charge much," he drawled.

"I'm looking for Shaker," I responded.  "There's twenty bucks in it for you
if you can point him out to me."

"Hmmmm, Shaker?" he mouthed.  He needed the twenty bucks, for he screwed up
his face as if deep in thought.  Finally he shook his head and admitted,
"Nope.  Can't say I ever heard of 'im."

I moved on.  I interviewed three more boys and received the same
discouraging results.  I started to wonder if this was some ugly ass hoax.
Just who was this elusive Shaker?

The fifth boy completely reversed my spirits.

"Shaker?  Yeah, I know him.  Nice guy.  We sucked each other off a couple
of times."

I explained, "I got a twenty for you if you can point him out to me."

"You won't find Shaker here tonight.  He's got this gig every Thursday.
Some rich judge has a room in a hotel near here somewhere.  They have a
bath together and then Shaker gets fucked for a cool hundred."

"Friday then?" I stated in desperation.

"Yeah, sure.  I'll tell Shaker you're looking for him and we can both be
here about four tomorrow afternoon.  Okay?"

I returned to the motel empty-handed but uplifted.  Tomorrow had to be the
day!  I could feel the disappointment in Mike's voice as I gave him the
news.  I tried to cheer him up by saying how sure I was that I would be
successful on Friday.

For the first time in a week I awoke the next morning with the sun
illuminating my room.  It added to the warmth I already felt.  It was all
going to be downhill from here.

After breakfast I visited the gay village for the fourth time in a week.
It seemed different somehow.  I noticed the bright Christmas decorations
everywhere.  I also found two quaint boutiques and a well stocked gay
bookshop.  I realized it wasn't the village that had changed.  It was me.
No longer was I the stranger desperately looking for his lost love.  I was
simply a tourist soaking in the pleasures of the neighbourhood.  Even the
myriad faces now took on a life of their own.  They were real people and
not shapeless forms that either resembled or didn't resemble my Jason.

I decided to take no chances and arrived at the rendezvous site early.
Sure enough as I pulled up my contact from the previous evening stepped out
of the alley.  A slight handsome youngster followed him.  He couldn't have
been more than fifteen.

"Hi.  This here is Shaker."

Shaker smiled a little and nodded his head up and down.  I looked at him
closely.  Try as I might I couldn't recall him being one of those
recipients of my ten dollar bills.

I handed a twenty to the first boy.  He promptly vanished without even a
thank-you.  Shaker meanwhile had made himself at home in the front seat of
the vehicle.  He pulled out a dirty copy of my poster from his pocket and
showed it to me.

"My bud gimme this.  This the kid you're looking for, right?"

"That's him!" I agreed.

"And I get two hundred if I show him to you, right?"

I nodded again.  "Exactly!"

"Show me the money," Shaker growled.  He was displaying the same rough
exterior that all these kids apparently needed to survive.

I pulled out ten twenties and made a fan of them.  I then peeled off two of
them and handed them over.  "You get the rest when you show him to me," I
explained.

"He ain't in too good shape you know."

A pang of fear gripped me.  "What do you mean?"

"He's gone over the cliff man."

"Over the cliff?"

"Yeah, he's popping pills like crazy.  Way too many.  I seen it before.
It's bad."

"Take me to him," I ordered.

We drove ten blocks or so with Shaker pointing the way.  We pulled up in
front of a dilapidated three story office building.  The front door was
boarded up and a large sign proclaimed `Private Property. Trespassers will
be prosecuted.'

Shaker led me down a narrow alley beside the building.  We reached an eight
foot wooden fence surrounding a small backyard.  One of the boards had been
pried off and by bending low we accessed the weed strewn yard.  A worn path
led directly to the back door.  It was jammed open about a foot or so and
by slithering sideways I was able to follow Shaker inside.  An overpowering
stench of urine and human faeces accosted my nostrils.  I felt a wave of
nausea.  We made our way down the hallway past open doors.  I heard voices.
A heavy argument was in progress behind one door while loud snores emanated
from another.  I realized the building was a hobo hotel.  The air was more
tolerable now but it still stunk with that peculiar odour combining wet
plaster, mold and old newspapers that all neglected buildings seem to have.
We climbed the stairs avoiding broken glass and beer cans on the way.

Reaching the top floor Shaker pointed to the second door.  "He's in there."

I stepped in and found the room completely empty save for a dirty brown
sleeping bag lying near the window.

"Where?" I asked.

"There," Shaker responded, pointing to the bag.

The bag moved ever so slightly and then I noticed a mop of curly brown hair
sticking out of the top of it.  I'd recognize that hair anywhere.  It was
Jason!

Shaker already had his hand out.  I filled it with the remaining twenties.

"Thanks mister," he mumbled.  "If you ever need a good blow job let me
know."

He spun on his heels and I was left alone with my Jason.  I sat on the
filthy floor and gently shook the shoulder of the sleeping form.

"Jason, Jason, wake up.  It's me, Ben."

He didn't move.  I carefully moved the bag back a little to reveal his
face.  I recoiled at the sight.  His cheeks were hollow and an ugly dark
bruise sat under one eye.  His mouth was agape and I could see that half a
front tooth was missing.

I shook him harder and he stirred a little.  When his eyes remained closed
I shook him as hard as I dared and shouted his name.  He opened his eyes
slowly.  They were glazed and it appeared he was looking through me rather
than at me.  His face remained expressionless.

"Hi mister," he mouthed quietly.  "You want sex?"

"Jason.  Please!  Wake up!  It's me, Ben."

"I want a hundred dollars if you want me to cum in your mouth.....," he
droned.

There was absolutely no emotion in his voice.  He was on autopilot.

"......and a hundred dollars if you want to fuck me."

This is awful, I thought.  I had to get him out of there and back to the
hotel.  I tried to drag him to his feet.  He was dead weight and smelled of
body odour.  With difficulty I succeeded.  He staggered a little.

Still speaking in a monotone he slurred, "We goin' to your place?"

"Yes Jason.  We're going home."

He put out a grubby hand.  "I need fifty first."

I thought I might get him to cooperate better if I played the game.  I
extracted a fifty and he stuffed it into his pocket.

I literally dragged him to the door where he suddenly resisted and insisted
on going back.

"What is it Jason?  What do you want?"

Without a word he retreated back to the sleeping bag.  He reached into the
bottom of it and retrieved two old white plastic grocery bags full of
heaven knows what.  I knew he would never have left home without his
haversack.  It was pointless asking what had happened to it.

Thirty minutes later I drove into the Red Lion parking lot.  Jason hadn't
said a word since getting him into the car.  He had stared straight ahead
but I had the feeling that he hadn't seen anything.  He held on to his bags
tightly as I guided him to the room.

As soon as I closed the door he began to strip.  He was like a robot.

"We're having sex now right?" he intoned.

Since I wanted him in bed I agreed.  He continued to peel off his rags.  I
winced.  He had lost thirty pounds and you could count his ribs.  Somehow
he still looked beautiful.  When he slipped off his underpants I gasped.
His penis was completely flaccid, a condition that was entirely novel to
me.  It hung like a pendulum and the glans was wrapped in its cocoon.  It
couldn't have been more than a shade over three inches in length.

Without a word he lay on the bed and waited for me.  I continued the game
by stripping and lying beside him.

"Jason, it's me, Ben.  I'm lying here beside you."

He stared straight up at the ceiling and said nothing.  He shivered a
little.  I got up, found a sheet and laid it over him.  I lay down beside
him and began to cry softly.  His breaths were shallow and the sheet barely
moved.

Unable to sleep I eventually got back up.  I wandered over to his bags.
For some reason beyond my comprehension I began to empty them item by item.
I came across an old T-shirt.  I could just barely make out a wolf print on
the front of it.  I got to the bottom of the second bag and stared at the
final item.  I picked up a worn paperback.  The cover was missing and there
were several loose pages but I recognized it.  It was his magic book.

I didn't know why but I carried the book back to the bed and lay down
beside him once more.  I turned to one of his favorite chapters, the one
where Amotuk and Robert build their cabin in the secret valley.

I began to read out loud putting as much emotion into the rendition as I
could.  Jason remained stoic, still staring upwards.  I made it to the
bottom of the fourth page when a shaky hand reached out and turned the page
for me.  I looked at him staring at me now.  There was still no spark of
recognition in his eyes.  I read on.  When I reached the bottom of the next
page he reached out once more.

I turned to him and cried softly, "Jason, are you there?  Do you know me?"

"It's Ben isn't it," he slurred.

"Oh yes Jason!" I wailed.  "We're going home!"

If I expected Jason to suddenly come alive and hug me I was sadly mistaken.
His eyes remained glazed and there was no emotion in his voice.

I lay there stroking his face, "Jason, Jason, please!  Come back to me."

"Read some more," he replied in a monotone.

I did his bidding and returned to the book.  I read another forty-five
minutes before I looked over and realized his eyes were closed.  He was
asleep.

I sighed, reasonably satisfied.  I knew Jason was in there, somewhere.  I
was convinced he would come back.  After all he had recognized me.  Once
again his book had spun its magic.