Page 42 of A Long Con

“You don’t know Gildersleeve? He’s the self-dealing, fascist oil tycoon who is going to decapitate Ira Hogshead if he doesn’t come up with Nude.”

Berkeley and I gazed at each other with shining eyes. We were excited, probably for different reasons. Berkeley just wanted to own a piece of history, Roosevelt’s rug.

I wanted to turn in Waterman to the feds in exchange for a deal for Berkeley. Then get Roosevelt’s rug.

Two birds with one stone.

“Kinbaku.”

What? We’d been ambling down a colorful road in Alamagordo when Royal grabbed my bicep and slammed me against a storefront window. Split didn’t notice and kept on going.

Shyness swept over me, but also pride. “Where do you propose to do this? We haven’t even gotten a hotel room yet. And who’s going to cream on who? Let me watch you. I haven’t been able to enjoy much of your burnished copper dick.”

Why was Royal frowning? “What? No, not bukkake. Kinbaku. Japanese rope bondage.” I must’ve grinned, because Royal leaned his steaming body closer into mine and took my chin between his fingers. “You know what that is, then?”

“Of course. It’s an aesthetic among the gay New York avant garde, too.” I shrugged like a know-it-all. “I’ve done it before.” Royal’s cock twitched against mine.

“Ah. Which do you prefer, jute or hemp?”

“Hemp,” I said quickly, although I couldn’t really remember. I’d only done it twice, and we’d had to watch a YouTube video while I bound Ash.

“I prefer hemp too,” growled Royal, his breath hot against my cheek. “I found out I got turned on when being bound to fly over the ring. Makes my cock and thighs feel and look huge.”

“They are huge,” I murmured, stroking his face. “You got turned on when I cuffed you, didn’t you?”

“Of course . . . master,” he whispered, and gave a little lunge of his hips.

I gasped to feel his length twitch against mine. The idea that passers-by were watching us made me hot, too. I’d always known I had a bit of the exhibitionist in me. One time, in a public park at night, I’d sat Ash down beneath a big tree. I’d fucked his mouth, utterly titillated by the people who rushed past, ooing and ahing at the horrendous sight they witnessed. I knew they probably went home and re-enacted the mortifying sights, down to me controlling Ash’s movements by tugging on a handful of his ponytail.

“Okay, slave,” I snarled back. “Say we find a hardware store and get some rope.”

“Just one thing. I propose I be the master. You the slave.”

Fuck me raw. Just one brief flashing image of myself helpless, arms behind my back bound palm to elbow, the chest bindings only revealing my nipples, made me hot as hell. I twitched my hips against Royal’s to show my assent. I’d only dared to think about being a submissive in my darkest dreams. Royal was the perfect man to switch it up with.

“Bugger me,” I said almost in a dream, my head lolling back against the glass.

“Hey!” someone yelled, so close by I jumped.

A guy stood at the store’s door, some grey-haired dude all in a tizzy. “You take that somewhere else! We don’t need that kind of behavior around here!”

Royal raised a hand of assent to the guy, but he became emboldened as we walked off.

“Take that homosexual stuff back to San Francisco! You’re in New Mexico now!”

He was garnering some fans, encouraged by their numbers, who yelled, “Yeah!” and “Go back home, homos!” We walked even faster. I was surprised when Royal took my hand, and I warmly encouraged him by squeezing it.

But there was more to the deal.

Royal said, “Another thing. You never answered my question. That Waterman moke ever guzzled your come?”

I nearly stopped dead in my tracks. Were it not for Royal dragging me by the hand, I would have. “Does . . . does that matter?”

“Yes it does. I’m a fucking jealous brah. I’m not going to tie up anyone who’s longing for another piece of meat.”

When he’d asked me that before, I’d dodged the question. A stroke of luck was that Split was waiting for us ahead in front of some civil building shaped like a pueblo, butt against a plinth, cowboy-booted ankles crossed so as to display his package. And I knew Split Waterman’s package intimately.

I copped out by saying, “That was a long time ago, Royal! He picked me out of obscurity to become my mentor based upon absolutely zero evidence that I could come through.”