Date: Thu, 12 Dec 2002 10:06:55 -0600
From: Michael Yost <myost@charter.net>
Subject: Real World Chapter six

Daniel came running in.  Josh was on the floor.  Blood and whip cream
dribbling down his nose.

"I'm sure Pete didn't slap Josh around," Daniel told Ace, hiding a laughing
smile behind a frown.

"Ah the big wimp, I guess he wouldn't beat up daddy," Ace cried profoundly
disgusted and disappointed, "Daddy plays football like Brent.  Pete's a
skater boy."

Thoroughly revolted Ace yelled, "Sissy!"

"I'm not a sissy," Pete cried, turning red, "Ace where did you learn such a
world?  "Sissy" isn't a nice thing to call someone."

"Sissy, sissy, sissy," Ace taunted him.

"That's enough boys," Damion sighed, pulling the blanket from the bed,
using it to staunch Josh's bleeding.

Ace crossed his arms on his small chest, staring critically at Pete clothed
his baggy converse skater pants, his wool beanie, and his voluptuous
Tee-shirt.

Why does daddy like Pete more than he likes me, Brent, and mommy? Ace
angrily thought, Does he like Pete more than he likes me too?  Like mommy
liked Jesus better?

Running to Pete, Ace gave him a good kick in the leg then he went running
for his bedroom screaming, "Sissy, sissy, sissy!"

"I'll get him," Daniel assured Pete, "he needs to apologize."

"No, I mean, I, I guess.  Could you just explain to him it's not a nice
thing to say?  I mean. He's just a kid.  It's all right," Pete blurted out,
wilting, wishing there was a huge hole he could hide into.

"It's not all right," Damion said sternly, " Any thinking adult knows a
young boy who is misbehaving needs to be dealt with quickly.  Daniel will
handle Ace.  Now exactly what happened here?"

Christov danced to blaring Grateful Dead tunes.  He was miles away swaying
upon a cracked sidewalk flanked by rows of pawn shops, porn stores, and
taverns.  A head phone stuck on his head.  Dutifully following him was a
middle aged man, tanned, not ugly by any means, an expensive hair cut, a
little more time spent at his gym was needed to firm up his little gut.

"Let me get this straight for fifty dollars you'll let me suck your dick?
For sixty you suck mine.  Got it?"

"Got it," Christov said lamely, batting his flashy false eye lash at him.
His oiled right ass cheek peeked provocatively out of a cut out hole in his
tight jeans.

"What will you let me do for seventy?" the swain panted.

"Nothing. I'm not into anything else but sucking.  I love to suck,"
Christov said lazily, licking his cold lips.  For show he attacked a small
clothes pin to his left nipple.  The pain was decent, really it was just an
ornament.  Christov liked the stares it attracted. His other nipple held a
tiny barbell, and a gold ring.  His silver Saint Christopher was cold
against his corpse-cold, naked chest.  He also wore St. Benedict Crucifix
which protected the wearer from poisons, a garnet rosary, a Saint
Maximilian Kolbe wooden scapular, and a gris-gris charm.

Nastily, the older man laughed.  His breath hot and rank in his alcohol
drenched mouth.  His nose still was tingling from a strong snort of
cocaine.  The glamorous half naked boy, he was no older than seventeen in
the older man's mind, whirled and danced around like a white flame
belonging to the night.  One of those Goth boys. Usually Goth boys wasn't
to his taste but this one was so painfully alluring, and so alive.  The
older man fingered his hand gun hidden in his pocket.  He liked them that
way.  Boys who were all lively.  They were the easiest to persuade to do
what he liked when a cold hard piece of steel was jammed into their pretty
mouths.

It was all play acting.  He liked to scare hookers.  Make them do stuff
they didn't want to do.  It was hard to find something they weren't willing
to do.  All it took was the offer of a little more money and he could put a
brick up a street hooker's ass if he wanted to.  No, the thrill was the
fear he put into a hooker's eyes when he made them think it was going to be
their last night on earth.  He always paid with a brand new hundred dollar
bill afterwards.  No one got hurt, except for maybe a cut lip, black eyes,
bruised ribs.  Nothing permanent like a bullet hole through the head.

"I have a room I can take you to.  You a cop?  You have to tell me the
truth because I asked.  If you don't it's entrapment."

"Hey you already offered to have sex with me for money," the man snorted.

"I was kidding; And let's get our facts straight.  You came on to me.  Are
you a cop?"

"No, I'm not a cop.  Not even and off duty cop," he said jovially.

"Thank God.  Cops make me nervous,' Christov said, "I'll suck you off.  I
like guys who pay for their dates.  Understand?  Sixty will do;"

Taking the trick to a porn shop, Christov said, "You want me to suck you
off in one of the booths?  Goon in.  Put some quarters in the slot and you
can watch a porn movie while I'm blowing you off. "

Christov gestured to a heavily curtained booth where a trap door was
hidden.  Alan, the owner of the porn shop, would dispose of his trick's
dead body for him later.


"No, I want privacy," the man whispered getting impatient.

"They all want privacy," Christov said, "Don't they Alan?"

Alan, a young man just as pale as Christov, wearing dark sun glasses just
like Christov's, smiled his vampire smile.  He said, "That they do.  The
newest issue of "Blue Boy" magazine is out.  Hot boys with meat on them.
Make your tongue sweat, Chrissy."

"I'll purchase a copy on my way out," Christov said, grinning at his trick.
Christov greedily licked his pale lips.  "Come on partner. Lets' make our
own filthy movie."

"Now your talking," the customer growled hungrily, fingering the bare patch
of Christov's ass.

"Don't touch just yet.  You haven't paid for our date," Christov said, "And
no kissing.  Got that?"

"Sure no kissing," the John said, fingering his hidden gun, thinking to
himself, You're gong to be ass kissing me soon you dumb ass slut.

Taking his customer up to his room which was forlorn of furniture except
for a musky smelling, stained bed, Christov said, "Pull down your pants and
let me see what I'm working with here."

"Why don't you pull them down for me?" the customer said.

  "Sure that will be an extra dollar," Christov said, "For a handsome fuck
like you I'll do almost anything to fucking take your pants off."

Getting down on his knees, Christov said, "Man your hot, I can smell you."

I can smell your blood!!! Christov thrilled to himself, Feel the heat of
your life pulsing fast in your as of yet living veins.

Having every intention of pulling down his customer's pants so he could
have easy access to the artery in the guy's thigh, Christov abruptly
stopped.

The customer pulled out his gun.  The muzzle pressed against Christov's
cheek.

"Fuck" Christov whispered.

"You got a filthy mouth on you.  You lazy, bitch, whore," his customer
smirked.

Slowly, he traced the gun along Christov's face.  Fantasizing Christov was
a coworker at the law firm he worked at.  One of those tight ass, pretty,
up-and-coming boys competing for the position of partner he'd been busting
his ass off for months to get.  As hard as he could he struck Christov in
the face with his gun.  He quickly pressed the muzzle up against the top of
Christov's skull.

"Listen bitch.  I want you to kiss me.  A long, wet kiss.  Then I want you
to diddle with your cock.  Whip it out slut.  I want to see it.  Then I'm
going to bust your skinny ugly ass open with my meat.  You got it?  You
pathetic, bitch.  You think you're a man? You're not a man"

"No, I'm not man.  Haven't been one for years.  Not like you, baby, not a
man like you.  Sure," Christov said, "Let me give you a kiss.  A nice, wet
kiss."

Getting off of his knees, Christov said in a breathy voice "You want to
twist my nipple?  Go ahead, take a hold of the clothes pin.  Give it a good
twist.  I'm a freak.  Hey, why don't you shoot your wad?"

Taking his hand to the trigger, Christov forced his trick to pull it.  The
handgun sent a bullet right into Christov's heart.

"No!!" The customer screamed, dropping the gun.

"What's the matter?  Haven't you ever shot anyone before?' Christov
laughed.  baring his fangs, "Haven't you ever killed someone? Don't worry.
I'm an expert concerning these matters."

The customer watched fixated at the open, bleeding wound in Christov's
chest.  The flesh quickly mended itself The bullet forced it's way out,
falling to the floor.

"I always aim for the heart. I don't think my kind of boy really has a
heart.  A heart is kind of a nuisance to my kind.  A head wound takes
longer to heal.  A shot to our tiny, little, wicked muscle some might call
a heart?  No pain in that."

Turning around, running for the door, the customer found himself slammed to
the floor.  A cold breath tickled the small hairs of his sweaty neck.

"Oh shit," a voice whispered close to the older man's throat.

Quickly taking his customer's gun, Christov put a pillow over the muscle to
silence it.  He shot the man in the foot.

Digging into the screaming man's pocket he took all his money.

"Listen, I got kids, an ex-wife." the customer wheezed.

"Hope you were a responsible and bought great life insurance," Christov
mumbled.

Pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket he jammed it down his victim's
throat.  Running out of the room, going quickly down the stairs, Christov
yelled, "Allen I left you a live one upstairs."

"Aren't you going to eat him?" Allen yelled over the loud Marlin Manson
music.

"No, you eat him.  I got this feeling my fledging is in trouble."

"How do you know?"

"I always have a small part of my mind on Pete alert.  See you," Christov
yelled.

"Later.  One of these nights we'll have to do dinner together," Allen
yelled as he left.  Allen went to the door of his porn ship.  He turned the
open sign around to read closed.  A couple of mortal guys were using a
booth.  Doing each other while watching a movie.  They wouldn't be any
problem he decided going up the stairs.

Killing the victim quickly, Alan trotted down the stairs, turning the sign
to read open again.


No problem, he thought, looking radiant and satisfied.

Christov went tearing down the streets, terrifying dancing in his mind of
Pete being in some sort of mind boggling danger.  Running straight up the
walls of Daniel's house he leapt through Josh's window.

"What's gong on here?  Let me guess.  Dora's finally driven Les insane, and
he's killing you all!  I knew this was going to happen."

Henri came into the bedroom too.

"Christov," Henri said delighted.

"Pete what's going on?" Christov said, ignoring Henri, "I was right in the
middle of a business transaction, and I could feel you were distressed.
Are you or are you not being attacked?"  Christov asked confused.