Date: Mon, 29 Dec 2008 09:10:04 -0500
From: James True <duncan_true@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Merchandise Part 2

This story is copyright 2008 by the author.

The following is a work of fiction, and it involves sexual situations
between men. The author appreciates any and all feedback about the story
and the events depicted, as well as the general subject matter of sexual
slavery.  I hope you enjoy the story.

The Merchandise Chapter 2

Paul led Jim to a Subway shop on 8th Avenue, south of the bus terminal.
They ordered some sandwiches and drinks and sat down at a table to eat.

Paul was good at sizing up the kids he met, and it was his estimation that
Jim was new at hustling, and unsure of himself.  That should make things
easier, he figured. He can be more direct. So he decided to take a direct
approach, and said, "Now, Jim...tell me the truth.  You weren't really
waiting for someone, were you?"

"Of course I was."

"I don't think so.  I've seen runaways before." Jim's expression indicated
that Paul's guess was correct.  "Don't worry, I won't turn you in to the
authorities. I was once a runaway myself, and feel an obligation to help
other runaways."  It was a lie, of course, but he figured it would be a
quick way to earn Jim's trust.

"Well, yeah.  I ran away from home up near Watertown.  How'd you know?"

"There is a certain look and you have it.  I can't explain it. Maybe one
runaway can always identify another. What were you running away from?  Were
you in trouble?  Did you commit some sort of crime?"

"Oh, no...nothing like that.  No.  I just had to leave home.  My mom died
last year of lung cancer for all the smoking she did, and my step-father is
an alcoholic.  My father left my mother before I was even born and we
haven't heard from him since. Not that my mother really looked for him.
But living with my step-father... I just couldn't stand it anymore."

"Was your step-father abusive towards you?"

"Well, he did hit me if I did something wrong or was not quick enough when
fetching a beer for him from the fridge.  But that was the extent of it. He
did try to be a good father, but the alcohol, you know."  Jim was hoping
his hard-luck story would solicit enough sympathy to instill in Paul a
desire to help him.

"Don't you have any other relatives you could have gone to?"

"None near.  My aunt, my mom's sister, lives out in California somewhere,"
Jim lied, but he didn't want to appear too desperate. "I came to New York
hoping to earn enough money to afford a ticket to go to her."

"You ran away without any money?"

"Whenever my father was passed out on the couch, I managed to take a few
bucks from him.  He never noticed if such small amounts were missing. I
saved up for the bus ticket here, but I don't have much."  Jim didn't want
to reveal that he had over $300 in his backpack.

"I see.  So, now you are in the city, where will you stay?  How will you
find a job?  How old are you, anyway?"

"Old enough.  I'm 18."

"Don't lie again.  You look 16."

"I guess I'm young for my age.  But I have a driver's license."  With that,
Jim took his license out of his backpack to show Paul.

Paul figured the license was probably a fake, but played along. "Eighteen.
You are officially an adult then.  You don't need any excuse for leaving
home.  You don't need to go to California if you don't want.  You can make
a good start of a new life right here in the city."

"Well, sure.  I guess.  But I don't know anyone here."

"Sure you do. You know me, don't you?  Tell me.  Do you have a place to
stay?"

"No, I was thinking of finding the Y, hoping to get a room there." Again,
Jim didn't want to appear too desperate. But he didn't want to have the
opportunity pass.  He was not sure how best to get across the idea that he
is willing to allow this guy to suck his cock, and was also willing to fuck
him in exchange for a meal or a place to sleep.

"Naw...if you don't have much, you don't want to waste money there if you
don't have to.  Tell you what.  I own a brownstone up in Harlem, and I have
it all to myself.  I have a spare bedroom you can use for a few days until
you decide what to do."

Jim did his best to hide the fact that he was almost stunned that Paul was
so quick to make his offer. This was far easier than he expected.  Maybe
too easy. Despite his confidence in himself, Jim knew he was somewhat naive
and certainly did not want to be taken advantage of.  Paul may be more
interested in robbing him than helping him.

Paul added, "My friend that I was waiting for won't be here until at least
tomorrow...and I like having company.  What about it?  It's much better
than the Y.  And you'll be safer."

"Well...I don't know.  I don't really know you."

"You think I'm some psycho?"

"No, of course not." But he did wonder.

"Good.  Then it's settled," Paul said before Jim could voice any further
objections. "You can get a good night's sleep, and tomorrow start looking
for a job.  I even have a few ideas about that and might be able to help
you find something.  Nothing exciting, and you'd barely make minimum wage,
but it's a start." Paul knew he had hooked him, and was now reeling him in.

"I don't know what to say.  I didn't expect to find such kindness in New
York."  Jim was still not completely sure, but what could he do?  He could
stay at the Y as a last resort; he did have $300.  But, then, Paul DID pay
for the sandwiches.  Would a thief or a killer feed you before he robbed
and killed you?  Maybe there are good Samaritans in New York City after
all.

"You'd be surprised.  New Yorkers are not all anti-social.  But the city
can be dangerous. When I first came to the city as a runaway, I was lucky
to run into someone who helped me.  Now it's my turn to help someone.
You're lucky you met me.  I see a bright future for you."

As they got up to leave the restaurant, Jim's unanswered questions swirled
in his head.  Is this guy as altruistic as he seems?  Will he want some
kind of payment for his kindness, and if so, what? Jim suddenly realized
that this guy may want more than Jim is willing to give.  "What if he wants
me to give him a blow-job instead of the other way around? What if he wants
to fuck me?" Jim wondered. He decided it was too late to ask Paul what he
wanted in return for a meal and a place to sleep.  He'll have to learn to
find out these things before future encounters go this far.  He figured he
could always leave if Paul asks him to do things he didn't want to do, and
he would be no worse off than he is now.  Besides, he has already gotten a
meal out of this guy.

Paul took Jim to the subway station and they headed up to Harlem and his
brownstone.  Paul had bought it cheaply during a city auction, and had
converted it to a two family home. Paul lived on the second and third
floors, but did not rent out the first floor and basement.  He didn't need
to since his occasional job paid so well, and his privacy was important.
He didn't need tenants who might ask too many questions.  Paul led Jim up
the stairs to his second floor living quarters and opened the door.  Jim
looked around, somewhat amazed.  "Gee...I thought all New York apartments
were small.  Your living room is a nice size."

"Yep.  I got lucky when I found this.  Here, put your things here," Paul
said, pointing to the couch.  "It must have been a long day for you, all
the way from Watertown.  Want a beer?"

"I don't know...after seeing what alcohol did to my father, I kinda decided
not to use the stuff." Jim really didn't want to get drunk and do something
he might later regret.

"Oh, come on.  One beer won't hurt you," Paul said as he brought out two
bottles from the kitchen.  "Here, enjoy it."

Paul was insistent, practically placing the bottle in Jim's hands.  Jim
finally decided that one beer won't do any harm.  He knew he could handle
one or two beers with no problem.

Jim sat on the couch with his beer.  Paul wanted to sit on the couch next
to him, but decided to go slowly, so as to not spook the kid, and to keep
him guessing, and instead sat on an easy chair.  "Well, this is my place.
Please consider it your home until you get a job and find your own place."

"What about your friend?" Jim figured Paul had lied about meeting a friend
at the bus terminal as an excuse to start a conversation with him. But Jim
decided it wise to keep up the pretense.

"Don't worry, there's plenty of room.  I have three bedrooms, one for
myself, one for my friend, IF he gets here, and you can stay in the third."
Paul said.  "I bet you feel dirty after that long bus ride.  Have some more
beer and I'll get some fresh towels for you, and you can take a shower."

"Thanks, Paul.  I think that would feel good."  Jim thought that here is
where Paul will make his move, maybe joining him in the shower.

Paul went into guest the bathroom and laid out some fresh towels for Jim,
then returned to the living room.  "All set.  Enjoy your shower.  I left a
robe in there for you so you won't have to put your dirty clothes on after
the shower."

Jim went to the bathroom and closed the door.  He was sure Paul would
follow him, and was a little surprised when he didn't.  Jim couldn't figure
Paul out. Although he had enough opportunity since they got to his home,
Paul hadn't done anything to suggest he wanted Jim to do anything sexual.
Jim was beginning to wonder just what Paul wanted.

Paul took the opportunity of Jim's shower to open Jim's backpack and look
inside.  The wallet containing the driver's license and $300 was there, as
were a few changes of clothes and some toiletries, and that was it.  "Poor
kid," thought Paul. "Maybe I AM doing him a favor after all."  Paul was
relieved to see no indication of any drugs, not even cigarettes.  The last
thing he needed was a kid going through withdrawal.  Paul took the backpack
and placed it in his master bedroom closet, out of the way.

Paul went to the phone to call his boss.  "Good news," he said. "I think I
found something suitable for you.  I'll start the training tomorrow."  The
boss thanked him, and Paul hung up as Jim came out of the bathroom wearing
the robe Paul supplied.

"That felt good.  Thanks for the robe."  It was a short robe, going only
down to the mid thighs, and Paul could see that Jim had a beautiful pair of
muscular legs.  Nice, he thought. Jim was a little relieved seeing that the
robe was so short.  Maybe all Paul wants to do is look at him.  He had read
that some fags get off just by looking at young boys.

"Here.  Give me those dirty clothes.  We can do laundry tomorrow morning,"
Paul said taking the clothes from Jim and putting them into the hamper in
his room.

Jim sat down on the couch again and finished his beer.  This time, Paul sat
next to him.  "So, tell me, Jim...what sort of things do you like to do?"

"Do?  What do you mean?" Jim thought Paul was finally getting to some
sexual suggestions, and turned in such a way that the front of his robe
opened up to display his cock.  But Paul seemed to just ignore it.

"I mean for job hunting.  What are you good at?"

"Oh! Well, I don't know.  I've worked on a farm, but there are no farms
here in the city.  But I can do physical labor.  I can also cook...When my
mom first got sick, it was either learn to cook or have pizzas every night.
I did manage to get a high school diploma, so that should help in getting a
job."

"I would guess so.  I have a few contacts in the city that might help.
Yes, Jim...I see a brand new life in store for you."

Jim, tired of trying to figure Paul out, decided to be more direct in
sending out a signal that he was willing to do some sexual favors.
"Thanks, Paul.  You are so kind and generous.  Is there anything I can do
for you?"  Jim asked, placing his arm on the back of the sofa behind Paul,
and leaning over towards Paul, as if to kiss him.

Paul was tempted to take Jim and kiss him, but decided it was better to
wait; to stick to his plan of keeping Jim guessing, and thus on edge. Paul
said, standing up to remove temptation, "Don't worry.  I'm sure you will
pay me back in many ways over the next few weeks."

Jim wondered just what Paul meant. He looked over Paul again, and was
almost disappointed that Paul did not seem interested in giving him a
blow-job or being fucked. Paul was quite good looking in his tight jeans
and t-shirt, after all.  Jim just could not understand what was happening,
and decided to make one last effort to get Paul to make his move.  "After
that shower, I'm feeling quite tired.  Do you mind if I go to bed?"

"Not at all.  Let me get you some pillows, sheets and blankets.  I'll show
you to the spare bedroom and help you make up the bed. And then, tomorrow,
we'll begin your training for your new job."

Jim wondered what Paul meant by that, since he didn't have a job, but
figured he must just mean Paul would give him tips on job-hunting. Paul
helped Jim make the bed in the spare bedroom, with Jim thinking this was
Paul's last chance to make his move.  But nothing happened.  Paul simply
said, "Good night, Jim.  See you in the morning," and he left the room,
shutting the door and leaving Jim alone.  So Jim took off the robe, turned
out the lights, and went to bed, completely puzzled and a little horny.

To be continued.

The stage has been set. In the next chapter, Jim will begin to learn
exactly what it is he has gotten himself into as the sex starts.  Comments
about this story are greatly appreciated.