Date: Sun, 13 Apr 2008 20:02:12 +0000 (GMT)
From: Nexis Pas <nexispas@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Last Call

Last Call
Nexis Pas (nexispas@yahoo.co.uk)
Copyright 2008 by the author

It was just a job. A job like any other job. A way to earn a
bit extra at night. That's what Eddie told himself. Just a
job. He pretended to be cool about it, as if it didn't
matter, but he liked it. He really, really liked it. Every
time Mike rang and told Eddie he was on for tonight, a
sharp, hot wave of pleasure surged through his body toward
his groin and gripped his balls and rushed up his cock.
Sometimes when it had been a few days since his last
customer, he even grew hard at the thought. Displaying
himself, making the customer want him, had become an
addiction. He liked standing in the inner room behind the
closed door that led into what had been the sitting room of
the flat, hearing Mike go over the rules with the `client',
giving him the instructions. No touching, just watching. The
customer could talk to Eddie if he wanted and asked him to
do things, but he couldn't touch. Mike would be just down
the hall and ready to intervene if Eddie called out. So no
trouble, mate. Keep your hands to yourself and everything
would be fine. But no wanking off. Or you paid the bill to
clean the upholstery and the rug. Keep it in your pants till
you get outside, somewhere else, somewhere private if you
can hold off that long. And you get 30 minutes, no more no
less, from the time that the lad walks through that door.
And then you leave, no argument. And remember, no touching.
Just looking.

And they did look. They couldn't keep their eyes off Eddie.
That was the wonderful part. That was the part Eddie liked.
Mike would knock on the door at the back of the stage he had
fixed up. And Eddie would wait for just a few seconds to
give Mike a chance to turn down the lights in the part of
the room where the customer sat and then to leave. From the
moment Eddie entered, the customer's eyes would begin taking
him in. Eddie knew he was good looking, probably the best-
looking man most of the customers had ever seen. His face
was so masculine. The square jaw, the widely set eyes. The
dark hair cascading over a broad forehead. The finely shaped
nose and high cheeks. A slight touch of the exotic as if a
sailor from the Mediterranean had found a safe haven in an
ancestress's port and tarried long enough to contribute his
genes to Eddie's heritage. Eddie's skin was just a little
too dark, his lips a little too full, his beard a little too
heavy for him to be completely Anglo-Saxon. And then there
was his splendid body. Taut, full muscles. Not a bit of fat.
Hairless except for the cropped triangle above his cock and
balls.

No matter how energetically he moved, nothing bounced except
his cock and balls, and Eddie made sure those moved about,
hypnotising the `client', taunting him, making him desire
Eddie. And Eddie had perfected his routine so that the cock
soon stopped bouncing and got harder and harder until it
stood erect, jutting up parallel to his abdomen. Until only
the balls swung low and loose in the sack. No customer could
take his off Eddie once Eddie bounded energetically through
the door at the back of the stage and smiled at him.

Mike had fixed the room above the shop up so nicely. The
stage was a raised platform a few inches off the floor. Mike
had carpeted it so that it was soft beneath the performers'
feet. The customer had a nice chair to sit in, with a table
beside it. For a generous gratuity, Mike would supply a
drink. Mike couldn't charge for the drink officially since
he didn't have a license, but the customer knew that he was
supposed to include the cost in the tip he left. The door
behind the stage led into what had been a bedroom of the
flat. Eddie and the other performers used it as the place to
undress or change their clothes.

Mike kept a selection of costumes back there. Sometimes a
customer wanted a policeman or a masked superhero. Sometimes
a businessman in a suit. An athlete in footie gear. A
leatherman. But most of Eddie's customers just wanted him
nude, especially his repeat customers. They might want him
in a costume the first time, but after that they wanted to
see his body, all of it, on display.

And Eddie did get lots of repeats. He didn't know their real
names, but he soon came to recognise the ones who came back,
his regulars, and he gave them nicknames. The Bank Clerk,
the shy thin man in an old rumpled suit with greying hair
that always needed to be cut, who sat there without saying
anything, just sipping on his pint of ale, while Eddie
stroked his body and made his cock get hard. The clerk
couldn't take his eyes off Eddie. He devoured Eddie. He
wanted Eddie. And Eddie made the clerk want him. He made the
clerk want to touch him, just once, to touch Eddie, just
once, to feel that firm, solid, hard, warm flesh beneath the
tips of his fingers. Just once. The bank clerk never said
anything. Occasionally there would be a sigh. But that was
the most reaction Eddie ever got from him. His face remained
passive as Eddie made himself an object of desire. And he
kept coming back to see Eddie.

And then there was the Mechanic, so christened because he
always smelled vaguely of oil and petrol. He wore a wedding
ring. He looked like he showered before he came, cleaned up
for Eddie. Eddie wondered if he bothered to do that for the
wife. He always thanked Eddie at the end `for the show' and
told Eddie he had done a good job. He smiled often and
grinned at Eddie. Sometimes he winked or licked his lips to
let Eddie know he was enjoying the performance. `Oh, touch
yourself there, mate.' Or `Move that arse for me.' Or `Man,
do I want to suck on that cock!' He was one of the more
verbal customers.

The Teacher always looked as if he expected the police to
come bursting through the door and arrest them all. But he
couldn't take his eyes off Eddie. He chewed at his lower lip
the entire time Eddie was on stage. He groaned with lust,
his hand drifting often to massage his groin.

Some of the customers wanted Eddie to taunt them, to make
them beg for more. Some talked about anything that came to
mind. Politics, the price of beer, anything. As if it were
perfectly normal to have a conversation about the weather
while a young man danced naked before them and played with
his nipples and made his cock rise up and  sway back and
forth. But none of them could take his eyes off Eddie. They
were like prey being hypnotised by the eyes of the snake.

Some of the customers wanted two of them on stage together.
Eddie was always paired with Gavin. Gavin was almost as good
looking as Eddie. They would enter together, and Gavin would
start touching Eddie all over, getting Eddie hot and
aroused. Eventually he would kneel before Eddie and start
sucking on Eddie's cock. Gavin was a good sucker. Eddie's
moans of pleasure were quite genuine. There were lots of
calls for the two of them together. The `Splasher' hired
them at least once a month. He wanted Eddie to pull out just
before orgasm and splash his cum all over Gavin's face. `Do
it. On his face. I want your cum on his face.' The Splasher
would bounce up and down on the chair as Eddie neared his
climax. He couldn't sit still. And Eddie and Gavin put on a
good show for him. Eddie wasn't faking his enjoyment. Eddie
didn't care at all for cumming on Gavin's face, but Gavin
always shrieked with lust when the cum began to hit him.
`More, Eddie, more. Give me more.' And at the end, he would
turn full face toward the Splasher to display the lashes of
cum across his face, the drops beginning to ooze down his
cheeks and onto his chest.  The Splasher always gave them an
extra large tip to share between them.

All of them wanted pictures. But Mike never allowed that.
`You get some bloke taking a picture, and the next thing you
know it's all over the Internet. People getting for free
what we want them to pay for. We want the customer to have
his memories, his fading memories, so that he has to return
to refresh them, see. It's good business to make them have
to come back. They get a picture, and then they can wank off
by themselves. They won't need us.'

Eddie never took his eyes off the customer. The moment he
walked through the door, his fixed his eyes on the
customer's face. Most of them looked away at first,
embarrassed and ill at ease at being stared at. They soon
got used to it, however. Soon they learned to look back, to
take Eddie in, to enjoy what Eddie was offering them, to
take as much pleasure in Eddie's body as Eddie did. That's
what Mike had told him. Enjoy yourself on stage and the
customer will like it. Look like you really want to be
there. That your greatest pleasure in life is to offer
yourself to them. Most of the performers faked that. But not
Eddie. Eddie really liked it. He might pretend not to, make
jokes about the customers with Mike or the other performers,
but he really enjoyed it.

He loved to leap out onto that stage, full of life and
energy and youth. To smile and say `hi' to the client. To
run his hands over his body, making sure that the client
could appreciate how hard his flesh was, how hot it was. How
sleek. How smooth. To make the client know that if were
allowed to touch Eddie's body, he would feel the hardest
muscles, the hottest flesh. That if he rested his fingertips
on the veins that corded the surface of Eddie's body, he
would feel the pulse of Eddie's heartbeat.

And then to stroke his nipples, making them get erect and
hard, throwing his head back and moaning in pleasure. Making
the client feel what he was feeling. To make the client gasp
and lick his lips, to make the client want to take Eddie's
nipples in his mouth and suck on them, to moan with pleasure
from the very thought of Eddie's body.

`You want me, you know you want me.' Eddie focussed on that
thought and sent it directly into the client's mind. `You
want me. Touch yourself. Imagine what it would feel like to
touch me. To feel my body vibrating, moving in your hands.
Look at my cock. It's beautiful, isn't it? You want it,
don't you? You want to take it in your mouth. You want to
suck on it. You want it in you. You want to bend beneath me
and have me take you. You know you do.'

And they did. They did want Eddie. As they watched Eddie
dance and pose, their mouths would open and they would begin
to pant. Sharp, little gasps at first, their initial
hesitation and embarrassment soon forgotten as their
breathing became more and more ragged. The knuckles of a
hand pressed against their lips to stimulate their lips and
mouth. And soon the other hand would begin to touch their
groin. Just lightly in the beginning, but soon harder and
harder as Eddie taunted them and made them desire him.

Eddie loved the feeling of control. He was in charge of the
client. They may have paid for his time in money, but he
made them pay him with their lust and their desire. It
wasn't the money. Although that was good, it wasn't enough.
Eddie wanted them to pay with their weakness, their desire
for him. The payments and the big tips were just a extra
reward, the customer's way of recognising that you had given
them something special. Something the other performers
didn't. Eddie liked to think of himself as an artist. He
used his looks and his body and his sex appeal the way a
painter might use canvas and oils and brushes. He was an
artist of the body. A dancer. A contortionist. A magician.
On Mike's small stage, he was a star.

And his fans wanted him so much. He could feel that each
time he performed. They wanted his body, his youth, his
looks. They wanted to be him. He was their dream. And they
devoured him. He could see their mouths working as they
watched him. Their jaws would work, the tongue would slide
back and forth in the mouth. They would swallow. They made
little mewling noises of pleasure at the imagined taste of
his flesh. Their hands jerked and caressed the air around an
imagined shape of Eddie. They stroked themselves and
pictured his hands upon their body. The beautiful god loving
them. Eddie gave them what they wanted from him, and they
came back for more. The bookings increased. Sometimes two or
three customers a night.

`We've got a new one tonight. He asked especially for you.
Just you. I told him you might be busy, but he said he would
come back another night when you were available. He heard
you were something special and worth the wait.'

Eddie grinned into the mouthpiece on his phone. `You should
charge him extra.'

`I will. I always charge extra for you.'

`What's he like?'

`Dunno. Just a nice voice on the phone. Sounded educated,
posh. I gave him the 8:00 o'clock slot. You need to be here
about 7:40. Steve will be finished by that time. You want a
9:00 o'clock? I think I can schedule you in then too if you
want.'

`Sure, why not? Did the 8:00 o'clock guy want anything
special?'

`Just you, and your naked flesh. Make him hot, champ. We can
retire to Ibiza on what you earn.'

Eddie arrived just as Steve was changing back into his
street clothes. From the tights and face masked wadded up
and flung on the floor, Eddie guessed that the previous
customer had wanted Steve in the superhero's costume. Steve
took a drink from a flask. He wiped off the top and offered
it to Eddie. He looked a bit drunk already. Steve didn't
really like the job. He had to do it to earn money, and so
he drank to get the courage to perform, and that ruined it
for the customer. Few of them ever came back for him. `Man,
I don't know how much longer I can do this.' Steve liked to
complain about the job. Eddie pulled his shirt off his torso
and over his head. He folded it neatly before setting it on
the old dressing table that Mike had left in the room. He
knew that Steve was watching him. And that pleased him. Even
his fellow performers watched him. `All those eyes. Don't
you ever get tired of being watched?' Steve took another
drink from the flask.

`No. As long as I get paid, they can look as much as they
want.' Eddie unbuttoned his flies and peeled his jeans off
his thighs.

`Sometimes I feel as if those eyes are eating me up. That
there won't be anything of me left eventually.'

`That's daft. They're just looking at you. Just a bloke
looking at you. That's all it is.'

Steve was about to say something more, but Mike bustled in
and handed him several bills. Steve fanned the money to
check the amount. Eddie could see that it was less, a lot
less, than he got. `Get a move on, Steve. Eddie's new
boyfriend will be here in a few minutes.' Mike didn't like
the customers to have to face anyone but himself. He
promised discretion. The previous performer and customer had
to be gone long before the next customer arrived. The new
performer had to be waiting and ready in the changing room,
behind the door.

After Steve left, Mike and Eddie chatted about football.
Mike didn't have any interest in men. Eddie leaned back
against the dressing table. All his goods were on display,
but Mike spared only a brief glance to check Eddie out and
make sure he was ready for the customer before reverting to
his constant preoccupation with the Blues and their
prospects. Just before 8:00, the buzzer on the doorway
beside the shop interrupted their conversation. Mike hurried
off. Eddie closed the door to the hallway and began
preparing himself mentally. He heard Mike and the customer
enter the outer room. Mike went through the usual
instructions and then signalled Eddie that he was on.

Eddie pulled the door open and hopped up on to the stage. It
was his usual entrance. He liked to give the impression that
he had been waiting impatiently for that moment, that he
couldn't wait to perform. He smiled and locked his eyes on
the customer's face. `Hello. I'm Eddie.'

The customer nodded, just the slightest tilt of the head to
acknowledge that Eddie had spoken. He hadn't removed his
overcoat and hat. The hat was pulled low over his face, and
the dark glasses he wore obscured his face. He had a scarf,
silk by the look of it, wound around his neck, and his hands
were covered with gloves. His lips were dark against his
pale skin. The little of his face that was visible looked
grey, as if the man were sick. `I know. I was told to ask
specifically for you. The reports were true. You are an
extremely desirable young man. Would you turn around slowly
for me? I would like to see your body from all angles. No,
don't touch yourself yet. I just want to admire you for a
few minutes. Thank you. Oh, excellent, excellent. Do you
work out? Or is this your natural musculature?'

The man's voice was oddly pedantic, the enunciation of the
words too careful. Almost as if he had learned English from
a book and was intent on giving each sound in a word its
full value. `I go to the gym three times a week. I don't
have to exercise as much as many to keep fit. I've always
been in good shape.' Eddie shifted his weight from foot to
foot. He knew that made his cock swing back and forth.

`You are lucky then. So many are not. They are not
acceptable. It is a pity. It would make one's task easier if
one had more choices.'

`One choice is enough for most.' Eddie slowly turned around
to give the man a look as his backside. He turned his head
to the side to look over his shoulder at the man. The
glasses the man wore had a mirror finish. Eddie could see
his body moving in the man's glasses, caught there in
miniature, imprinted on the man's face.

`That is true. One is enough for me. One will supply me with
what I need for many years. You are quite beautiful. But I
suppose you know that already. You could hardly be unaware
of your looks.'

Eddie grinned and shrugged. The truth of that statement was
too obvious to need confirmation in words. He lifted his
arms and placed his hands on top of his head. He flexed the
bicep and then licked it, looking back at the man as he did
so.

`Don't do that. It is cheap. You don't need to posture and
pretend with me.' The reproof in the man's voice was
chilling. `I do not want that. I just want to look at you
for now. Take a few steps back and forth for me. I wish to
see how the body moves.'

Usually Eddie felt in control of the situation, even when
the customer was giving orders. But this was different. The
man was examining him with more focus than most did and
regarding him like an object on display. `You are healthy?
There are no diseases or problems?'

`None that I know of. I exercise. I jog. I watch my diet.
Can't do more than that, can I?'

`No, but one likes to be as certain as possible before one
makes a choice. Please arouse yourself. I want to be sure
that all is functional.'

`Don't worry, mate. I am "functional". In any case it
doesn't matter because you can only look. There's no
touching.' Eddie was beginning to find the man irritating.
Maybe he was a foreigner. That would account for the slight
weirdness of manner.

`Forgive my manner of speaking. I seldom speak with anyone
and lack practice. I am too direct. For now, please proceed.
I will say nothing more and make no more demands.'

Eddie began to stroke his body and to dance for the
customer. For once, he fell back on technique. The
customer's comments had put him off his stride. He had to
pump his cock for two minutes or so before it became rigid
and would stay erect. Usually it was enough for him to form
a mental picture of his cock for it to become erect. He
tried to keep his eyes on the customer, to communicate to
him what he was feeling but there was no magic in his
performance tonight. He felt lacklustre and tired, as if the
energy had been drained from him. The customer seemed to
shimmer like a shadow vibrating in the wind. The air was
moving in the heat, rising toward the ceiling. It was hot in
the room tonight, and the customer's cologne came as a faint
scent. Something slightly herbal, as if he had trodden on
wild grasses and flowers.

The bell on the timer sounded, and Eddie gave a practiced
smile at the customer. `Thank you' was all the man said. He
stood up even before Eddie had finished moving and was out
of the room. Eddie heard him say something brief and
dismissive to Mike. Then a short time later he heard the
door to the street open and close. It wasn't until he
thought about it later that he realised that the man had
made no noise going up and down the stairs. The stairs were
so old that they usually creaked and snapped at every step.
`That is one odd man. If he calls again, please tell him I'm
not available. He creeped me out.'

`I'll try, Eddie. But we can't pick and choose our
customers. As long as they can pay, we supply what they
want. He didn't leave a tip. Wasn't he happy with you?'

Eddie shrugged. `Dunno. I think he's a foreigner. Maybe he
doesn't know what's proper. In any case, push him off on
someone else next time. I don't want to see him again.'

Mike glared at Eddie. `Don't get any ideas. You're good, but
there are others. You come when you're told to come or you
get out. I don't put up with attitude.'

`Ah, don't be like that, Mike. This is the first time I've
said no to a customer. He was just odd. Treated me like I
was some sort of trophy he might want to mount on his wall.'

`You're letting your imagination run wild. He was just a
punter. Wanted to see a handsome young stud. But he had to
pretend he wasn't interested. Customers do that sometimes.
It's their way of protecting themselves. They pretend not to
be interested. You'd better get prepared for your 9:00
o'clock.'

The second customer was much more satisfactory. He clearly
enjoyed Eddie's performance and even clapped at the end. His
tip was quite generous, and Eddie left the Mike's shop in a
much better mood. He treated himself to a pint on the way
home and sipped at it until the bartender called for last
orders.

It was hot in his flat. Maybe he was sickening with
something. He reminded himself once again that he needed to
get a thermometer. Every time he felt a bit off, he thought
about buying one and then promptly forgot about it when he
felt better. He took two aspirin and went to bed. He would
be better in the morning.

That night he dreamt of a meadow filled with wildflowers.
With every step he took, the aroma of the plants rose around
him and engulfed him. The sun was hot and the air shimmered
with haze. The 8:00 o'clock customer walked toward him. The
customer slowly removed his overcoat and dropped it on the
ground. One by one he removed each item of clothing until
his frail body was revealed. He looked sickly, as if his
body were wearing out. The columns of heat rising from the
meadow tugged at him and pulled at his body. With each step
toward Eddie, he seem to disintegrate more and more until
there was just an outline left in the air. Eddie could see
through his body to the trees that framed the meadow. Then
he just disappeared. He dissolved into a golden haze of
energy

The golden cloud rippled in the air. Eddie couldn't look
away. Spirals formed within the clouds and then dissolved.
Faint images shimmered and seemed to beckon to him. He
extended his right arm and touched the cloud with the tips
of his fingers. His flesh tingled. It was as if the cloud
were stroking his fingers. The golden haze flowed over his
hand and up his forearm. It was so warm and comforting.
Eddie stepped into the cloud and let it surround him. The
golden haze flowed over his body and closed around him like
a second skin. He vibrated with pleasure. The odours of the
meadow invaded his nostrils, and he opened his mouth to
breath them deeply into his lungs. For the first time he
felt the air being absorbed into his body and course through
his arteries and veins. The world became golden with light
as the haze coated his eyes. He saw wondrous things, beings
of pure light feeding on the air, the trees speaking to the
wind.

The golden skin tightened around him and began penetrating
him. An orgasm of pleasure flowed into him. Eddie opened
himself to the sensations flooding him. He didn't resist, he
couldn't resist, and the energy engulfed him and took over,
pushing him back into his mind, compressing him into a small
ball of consciousness that felt nothing but the bliss of
total feeling. The consciousness known as Eddie grew smaller
and smaller, completely unaware that the body it had
inhabited had been taken over and then it was slowly reduced
to nothingness.

                            *****

Torg liked the new body. It always took some time to get
used to a new body, to bring it under control. But this
young man's body, this Eddie body, was quite good. It was
the best one he had inhabited for many centuries. It
promised to hold up well. He looked through the clothing in
Eddie's closet and selected the most nondescript items he
could find. The trick was to blend in. He had to leave the
building, and it was important that he wear nothing
memorable. Of course, it would be days before an alarm was
sounded. People like Eddie weren't missed right away. He
practiced moving about. He flexed the fingers until he was
satisfied that he had them fully under control. The fingers
were always a problem at first. So many small bones and
muscles in them. He reminded himself that the Eddie body
required nutrients. He explored the refrigerator and the
cabinets in the kitchen. He found what he recognised as food
and ate what he thought was a proper amount. In his
explorations, he discovered an empty box under the bed and
packed it with clothing for those times he had to leave his
lair and find food. He waited till he thought most people
would have left for work before he opened the door to
Eddie's flat and stepped out. He had taken the precaution of
parking a few blocks away, so that no neighbour would see
`Eddie' getting into a strange car. When he reached the next
street, he began to whistle. He hadn't been able to do that
in the previous body. He rather liked the sensation. He must
remember to drive carefully. Until he was sure that he was
in total control of the Eddie body, he couldn't take
chances.