Date: Thu, 13 Sep 2007 14:55:02 +1200 (NZST)
From: Nick Cramer <antinous48@yahoo.co.nz>
Subject: Chris Trousdale my bodyguard, part 1

The 'Chris' in this story is based on Chris Trousdale as he appears in
pictures on his Myspace page -- punkish, in scruffy jeans.  But the story
is purely fiction, and implies nothing about the real Chris Trousdale, his
habits or his sexuality.

There are two further instalments to come.  But comments on this first one
are welcome -- to antinous48@yahoo.co.nz.

CHAPTER 1. A FRIDAY EVENING STROLL

An evening stroll had seemed like a good idea an hour
before, but now I realized I was thoroughly lost. It
was Friday night in Gotham City, and I had just
arrived from London for a business meeting on Monday
-- the most important assignment I had had so far, as
a rising twenty-something bank executive. I now found
myself in a dimly lit street of decaying buildings,
with no idea how to locate the bright lights of my
smart hotel. Who was there to ask? In the gloom I
could see no one except a young man with punkish hair
lounging against a grim graffiti-covered wall a few
yards away. He was already looking towards me in a
way I didn't quite like. But what choice had I? I
walked up to the young man, trying to appear
self-confident.

It was he who spoke first. 'Got a light?' he asked.
He was a tough-looking young guy, about nineteen, who
looked thoroughly at home in this grim neighborhood.
My eyes traveled up: dirty sneakers, faded and torn
blue jeans, a brown leather belt, an inch of
underwear, then ... his unbuttoned jacket revealed a
tanned hairless torso, husky and well-proportioned. On
a chain round his neck dangled a cross and what looked
a miniature pair of handcuffs. But he was smiling
now, which made him seem less threatening. 'No, sorry,
I don't smoke', I said, trying not to wonder what this
young man was planning. 'But ... I'm looking for the
Hotel Bristol. Can you help me?'

His smile broadened. 'You foreign?' he asked. 'Yes,
British,' I answered; 'I've just arrived in Gotham
City and ...'

'Hotel Bristol!' he interrupted: 'That's not far from
here. But for a stranger in a suit, in this part of
town -- ' He shook his head warningly. 'But no
problem, I'll take you there!' So saying, he grasped
my arm and steered me firmly round. I found myself
walking back the way I had come with this young man on
my right. The young man's left arm was draped across
my back, his hand gripping firmly my left shoulder,
and his body was pressed close against mine as we
walked.

I tried to think quickly. There was still no one else
in sight. A glance sideways confirmed that my
self-appointed guide, though not tall, was solidly
built. He responded to my glance with a cocky lazy
smile again, now at closer range. He was handsome,
and I could tell he knew it. He had a straight nose
and a small mouth with full red lips. Across his high
forehead, long spikes of greasy-looking dark hair fell
untidily, and lank strands extended down his neck to
meet the collar of his jacket. But by wearing his
hair in a way that on most people would have looked a
mess, this young man seemed to be saying to the world:
'Hey, see? I don't have to bother! I look stunning
anyway!' The same applied to the scruffy sideburns
and three-day beard -- they just served to emphasize
his strong square jaw and his cleft chin. But most
riveting of all were his high cheekbones and the
penetrating gaze of his long-lashed dark eyes under
their slanting brows.

The unspoken message of that taunting smile was clear:
'You're afraid of me, but you know you've got no
choice. If you try to get away, I'll knock you down
and steal your wallet. But if you play along, there's
a chance I'll get you back to your hotel safe and
sound, in return for which you'll give me some money,
pretending to believe a hard-luck story that I'll tell
about my sick mother (or something like that).'

My response to this unspoken message was to say: 'Uh,
thanks -- silly of me to get lost ...'

'No problem!' he said again. 'I know every street in
this part of town! My name is Chris!' And he paused
to take my right hand in a firm grip and shake it.
'And I'm Nick!' I replied.

As we shook hands, I could see at close range the
contours of his muscular chest revealed by his open
jacket. I was beginning to find something exciting in
this adventure. There are worse experiences than
walking along with a cute tough nineteen-year-old's
arm draped round one's neck in a friendly fashion,
even if the friendliness is a pretence. And if
muggers are round, I thought, they'll think twice
about hassling the two of us ...

I was wrong. As we passed a dark alleyway, a figure
in a leather jacket suddenly appeared in front of us
and said something to Chris. I didn't understand
Chris's reply (I think he was speaking Spanish), but I
could hear his cold disdain. Then I looked over my
shoulder: a tall powerful-looking thug in a white
singlet loomed threateningly behind us. Chris saw him
too, and reacted fast with a massive upper-cut to the
thug's chin. I saw the thug collapsing into the
gutter while his leather-clad friend gawped in
amazement. But I had no time to stand and stare as
Chris grabbed my arm roughly and yelled 'Come quick!',
dragging me after him across the deserted street and
round a corner. We stopped outside a dimly-lit bar
and Chris rubbed his sore fist. 'Ow! That hurt! But
we got away! We'll be safe in here!' he said.

It was a smoky bar, and I could tell by the smell that
it also served cheap food. 'Hey thanks,' I blurted
out. Whatever Chris's intentions had been, he had
clearly saved me from something worse. 'Those guys,'
he replied, 'they wanted me to help rob you. But
don't worry, I'll get you back safe to the Hotel
Bristol, OK?'

'Let me buy you a meal first, Chris', I said. 'I'm
really glad I met you!'

'A meal? Fine!' said Chris. I followed my
self-appointed guide and protector, and we sat down
facing each other in a narrow booth by the wall.
'I'm glad I met you too, Nick!' Chris went on, leaning
across the table and giving my shoulder a playful
punch. 'It's not every day I meet a real
smart-looking Englishman! I'm privileged, man!'

I searched for irony in Chris's voice and look.
Certainly it was there. Chris knew that I didn't know
how a streetwise guy like him might try to exploit
that 'privilege'. But at the same time his smile
seemed warm, with genuine interest and friendliness in
it. The booth was so narrow that our knees could
scarcely avoid touching under the table.
Instinctively I pulled my leg back, but Chris shifted
so that our legs just happened to touch again. I felt
the gentle pressure of his knee against mine. He
didn't seem to mind, and I certainly didn't mind
either. We gave our order to the waiter. Then there
was a pause. Chris leaned back and looked steadily at
me, a quizzical expression in those penetrating eyes.
I realized that I had a hard-on, and blushed. In
Chris's smile there was now a hint of amusement -- but
friendly, not scornful.

'How long are you in Gotham City, Nick?' I told him.
Then: 'Time for any sightseeing?' he asked.

'Well, maybe ...'

'... 'cos I'd be happy to show you around. Tourist
sights, or ... places off the beaten track. Whatever
-- you name it. Like I said, I know my way around.'
His smile turned into a broad grin as he stretched
lazily, pushing his shoulders back and his chest out.
Then he draped one arm casually along the top of the
booth by the wall. His unbuttoned jacket fell open to
reveal his nipples, standing out darkly against his
tanned chest and drawing attention to the contours of
his pecs. For the first time I got a proper look at
his belly. His abs looked firm, but there was just a
hint of a bulge around his navel. Chris's body, I
could see, was not that of a muesli-eating fitness
enthusiast, with elegant designer muscles. Instead,
it was the body of a boy who had grown up strong by
necessity, looking after himself in a rough
neighborhood.

Our food and beer arrived. Chris was clearly hungry.
He concentrated on eating his massive hamburger and
French fries, and we talked little. I ate my
sandwich, wondering where Chris would have eaten that
evening -- or whether he would have eaten at all -- if
he hadn't met me. Then Chris leaned back again in his
seat and looked at me seriously. 'Time to get you
back to your hotel, eh, Nick? It's getting late!'

I was relieved. Chris seemed to read my mind. He
fascinated me, but I would be glad of the comfort and
security of my hotel room to reflect on the evening's
experiences. Outside the bar, he put his arm round my
shoulders again as we walked. I could tell he was on
the alert, but there was no sign of our earlier
attackers or of any other suspicious characters.
'You've had a scary introduction to Gotham City,
Nick!' he said. Again he seemed to read my mind.
'But not all bad, I hope?' he went on -- and when he
turned to look at me, I saw this time in the serious
expression of eyes and lips something new. He seemed
younger, hesitant, almost pleading. The thought came
to me in a rush: 'This boy wants reassurance! He
genuinely wants me to like him!' I blushed again,
thankful that in the dark street Chris wouldn't be
able to tell. I played safe with a joky response.
'Well, I've encountered two bad guys and one good guy
so far! So you're right -- not all bad!'

We rounded a corner. Suddenly we were in a wider
street with brighter lights, and I saw the neon-lit
entrance to my hotel just fifty yards ahead. As we
reached the imposing entrance, Chris spoke: 'OK, Nick,
so you'll meet the good guy again tomorrow! Here at
the Bristol, in the lobby at noon!' He presented it
as a matter-of-fact statement, almost a command, but I
could sense his anxiety. If I said no, Chris would
handle my refusal coolly -- but that would cost him an
effort, because he very much wanted me to say yes.
'Of course I'll meet you, Chris, how can you doubt
it!' -- that's what I longed to say in reply. But I
knew that that would be a mistake, because I needed to
be cool too. That was an unwritten rule in our game,
and each of us would have been uneasy if the other had
departed from it. So what I actually said was: 'Sure,
Chris, you can give me that guided tour you promised!'

Chris beamed with pleasure, then waved goodbye and
walked off to ... I had no idea where. Would I really
see again that scruffy but gorgeous young man, and
feel again his knee pressed against mine and his arm
round my shoulder? In my comfortable room at the
Hotel Bristol that night, it took me a long while to
get off to sleep. It was just as well that I didn't
know what was in store, or I wouldn't have slept at
all ...