Title: Lost and Found (1-45/?)

Author: Jen Lynn (ilovelegolas@nyc.rr.com)

Pairings: Orlando Bloom/Viggo Mortensen

Rating: NC-17 overall

Summary:  It's about two men trapped in lives they don't want.  In this part
we meet Orlando who is living in Los Angeles, doing whatever it takes to get
by.

Warnings: AU.  Prostitution, drug use, mentions of rape

Disclaimer:  None of this happened.  I made it all up in my sick, twisted
little mind.  I am making no claims about anyone's actual sexual
orientation.

Archive:  Lirimaer.  LegolasLovesAragorn.  LBES.  BTF.  Others please ask.

Note:  This was semi-inspired by Orli's brief turn as a rentboy in "Wilde".
It takes place in present day Los Angeles.  The lyrics at the beginning of
this chapter are from "The Boy With The Thorn In His Side" by The Smiths.

Feedback would be lovely.



And when you want to live

How do you start?

Where do you go?

Who do you need to know?



Part 1:

Orlando moved quietly, the only sounds he made coming from the shuffle of
the soles of his worn out sneakers against the pavement as he walked quickly
down the sidewalks.  He deftly weaved through the host of usual suspects:
the dealers, the homeless people, and the hustlers.  No, he didn't want to
score, and telling him how good the shit they had was didn't change his
mind.

And no, he didn't have any money to spare, "Sorry Freddy, slow night" he
said, and felt bad about it too.

"Maybe next time, huh Orli?" the man said to him, not a hint of anger in his
voice.

Orli nodded, smiled softly, and quickened his pace.  He cut across a street
and came up the steps of a ramshackle apartment building.  He went inside
and climbed the stairs, taking two at a time, ignoring the way it hurt to
stretch like that.  He let himself into his flat, having the jiggle the key
to get the lock to open.  "Fucking piece of shit," he mumbled.  It hadn't
worked right since they were robbed three months back.  He'd been meaning to
save enough money to get the lock fixed or replaced but deep down he knew he
would never spend his hard earned cash on something so unimportant.

When he was finally inside he wished he wasn't.  The smell of sex was heavy
in the stifling apartment.  "Fucking bastards, can't you open a mother
fucking window!" he shouted, moving over and yanking it open.  He watched it
slide back down a bit before settling, still partially open.  Damn window.
Was there a single thing in his world that wasn't damaged in some way?

"Orli?" a groggy voice said.

Orli turned around to see Dominic yawning and stretching as he sat up on
*his* futon.  "Fuck Dom, why are you sleeping on my bed?  You have your
own," Orli snapped.

Dom looked hurt.  "Sorry...the sheets were so filthy, had to wash 'em in the
sink, left 'em hanging to dry in the loo...didn't think you'd mind," he
said.

"Couldn't you just sleep on the bloody mattress?  You too refined for that?"
he said, glancing over at the queen-sized mattress that sat on the floor in
the far corner of the room.

"The mattress is sticky, had to clean that too.  You're in a piss-poor
mood," Dom asked, getting off of the futon.  "And why are you back so
early?"

Orli sighed, raking his fingers through his mess of dark brown curls.  "Slow
night," he said.  "I figured fuck it, ya know?  Try again tomorrow."

Dom nodded and knew it was a lie.  It wasn't even midnight.  No way Orli
would give up early for no reason.  "Lij will have better luck," Dom said.
"And I'm on my way out now...I have a little cash, you want me to bring you
something to eat from the diner before I head out?"

Orli shook his head.  "I'm good," he said.

Dom nodded.  He pushed his feet into his shoes and went over to Orli.  He
looked up and into his friend's dark eyes.  "You sure?" he said.

"Yeah," Orli said and managed a smile.  "Be safe out there Dom," he said.

"See you later," he said, exiting the apartment.

Orli locked the door and pulled his tight black shirt off, tossing it onto
the futon.  He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, shedding them as he made
his way into the bathroom.  He shut the door behind him and took a deep
breath before turning around to look at himself in the full-length mirror.

Orlando frowned, tentatively touching the yellow-green fingerprint shaped
bruises that were already showing up on his hips and thighs.  There were
scratches too, angry and red, marring his pale flesh.  Orli turned from the
mirror, having seen enough.  It wasn't the first time he'd been raped.
Wouldn't be the last either.

He yanked the dripping sheets down from the drying rack above the tub and
piled them on the counter near the sink.  He stepped into the tub, pulled
the curtain and turned on the hot water.  He let it pulse over him, washing
away the night.  He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the side
wall.  Even as he showered he knew he wouldn't feel any cleaner afterwards,
he never did.  There wasn't enough hot water or soap in the world to clean
off the muck and mire of his existence.  Nights like these reminded Orlando
how very much he hated his life.

Orlando slid down to the floor of the tub, knees drawn up to his chest, arms
hugging his thin frame.  But he didn't cry, not even a single tear.  He was
long past crying over things like this.  He didn't much care that his body
had been violated.  What bothered him was that someone got a free ride.  The
fucker took what he wanted and left without paying.

Orli leaned his head back, opening his eyes.  He shook his head a little.
"What the fuck is wrong with people these days?  No fucking manners," he
grumbled, rising to his feet.  He shut off the water, wrapped himself in a
towel, and decided to see what Dom and Lij had left in the refrigerator for
him to eat.



The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation

-Henry David Thoreau



Part 2:

Viggo entered his house at the end of another tedious, enervating day.  All
he wanted was a little quiet, a little peace.  In his mind he was already in
his office/studio, in front of his canvas, mixing his colors, ready to leave
the doldrums of life behind if only for a few short hours.  The sound of his
wife's voice made him cringe.  "Hours?" he said to himself.  "I'd settle for
a few minutes..."

He avoided the kitchen, because that was where Christine was.  Viggo made a
beeline for his office.  He set his briefcase aside, removed his jacket,
pulled the already undone tie from his neck and threw it onto the chair.  He
unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows.

Viggo squeezed globs paint onto his palette.  He mixed some different shades
of red together, added a drop of blue and then began applying the paint in
swift strokes to the canvas.  A small, unconscious smile formed on Viggo's
lips as the white nothingness became *something*.  How he wished he could be
so easily transformed.  He was waiting, had been waiting his entire hollow,
dreary life for someone to come along and throw some color his way.

"Viggo," Christine said.

The stroke of his brush went askew as his name was spoken.  He turned
reluctantly from the canvas.  "What is it Chris?" he said.

"Why are you painting in your suit?  How many times do the cleaners have try
and remove paint splotches from your rather expensive designer clothes
before you get it through your skull that you should *change* before you
indulge in this ridiculous hobby of yours?"

Maybe if she'd raise her voice and scream Viggo would feel something stir
within.  But never once did her tone become anything other than what it
always was.  She spoke to him like he was a child who was slightly slow on
the uptake.  He lowered his eyes for a split second.  "Its not like we can't
afford the cleaning bills," he said finally.

"That's not the point," she said.  She sighed and approached him.  Christine
reached her hand out and touched his cheek.  "Honestly Viggo.  I wonder
where your head is sometimes...  How was work?" she said.

"Fine.  Like every other day," he added.

"Good," she said.  She checked her watch.  "I should be going."  She walked
out of the office.

Viggo put down his brush and followed.  "You never mentioned how long you'll
be visiting your mother," he said.

"Oh, I suppose a week at least.  I told the office two weeks but you know
how she and I tend to fight..."

"She's not well Chris, you should try to..."

"Try to what?" she said.

Viggo shook his head.  "Nothing..."

A car horn honked.  Christine picked up her suitcase.  "That's my taxi."

Viggo approached his wife, kissed her cheek softly.  "Have a safe flight."

"I'll call you," she said, opening the door before he could do it for her.

"I'll tell Henry you were sorry to miss him," he said.

"Oh, Henry.  I almost forgot.  He called.  He's not coming home," she said.

"But its summer break.  What's he going to do, stay in Boston the whole
summer?"

Christine shrugged.  "What would you do Viggo if you were a nineteen year
old young man?  Come spend the summer entertaining your boring father or
stay in Boston and have fun with your friends," she turned to leave.
Christine paused and looked back at him.  "Try to remember to get your hair
cut Viggo, you're starting to look like a hippy again."  With that she was
gone.

Viggo watched the car pull away and then shut the door.  He leaned against
it, feeling the emptiness well up inside him.  Happy as he was to have a
week off from his wife he hated the idea of being alone.  Not that he blamed
Henry.  Christine was right, why would anyone want to waist their time on
him?

Viggo headed back into his office.  He took the palette and brush back in
hand and tried to resume painting.  It was no good; he'd lost the creative
thread.  Giving up on the painting he left the room.  He trudged upstairs
and changed out of his suit, slipping into jeans and casual dark brown
button down shirt.

He looked at himself in the mirror, ran his fingers through his almost
shoulder length hair.  Maybe he did look like a hippy.  Obviously Chris
didn't like how it looked but Viggo knew that several women at his company
would've given their eyeteeth for a chance to fuck him.  Not that he was
interested.  Not in them anyway.  "Fuck it," he said out loud.  He dug his
wallet out of the pocket of his suit pants.

Viggo bounded down the stairs.  He decided he needed a drink.  Several
drinks.  And he knew exactly the place to go for them.  He grabbed his car
keys and was out the front door without a second thought.


Part 3:



Orlando pulled his jeans back up, buttoning them with practiced fingers that
had repeated these movements countless times. He didn't make eye contact
with the guy who'd just fucked him, keeping his head down until the man left
the bathroom. Orli turned to leave the stall and saw that the used condom
was stuck on the seat of the toilet. "Oh, lovely," he muttered. All he
needed was for Max to decide to ban him from the bar again. That would mean
spending all his time stalking the seedier establishments and prowling the
streets for work.

Orlando wasn't going to let that happen. He liked coming to Barfly. There
was a slightly higher class of customer here and as long as he was discreet
and didn't bring Lij and Dom around Max left him alone. It was paying off
tonight in spades. He'd already made more money than he had all week,
making up for what he lost the three nights he wasn't able to drag himself
out of bed. Orli used the toe of his sneaker and managed to push the condom
into the bowl. He flushed and left the stall. He washed his hands, ran his
fingers through his unruly curls and returned to the club.

He ambled over to the bar and plunked down his six dollars for a beer. He
swallowed a little, eyes darting around him, looking for his next trick.
Another hundred bucks and he'd have his share of the rent. One more live
one was all he needed and he could go back to his flat and get some sleep,
safe in the knowledge that he'd be able to call that shit-hole home for
another month.

Orlando's eyes settled on a man at the end of the bar. He guessed he was in
his late thirties, maybe early forties. In the dark club his shoulder
length hair seemed brown, but when an occasional strobe of white light would
pass over him Orli saw that it was more of a deep honey color. The man was
handsome, with a slender, athletic frame. He knew this guy's type. A
closet-case from the 'burbs. A smirk crossed his lips. He knew that this
guy wasn't here for the techno music or the ambiance.

There were signs that Orli was looking for before he'd pounce. He watched
the guy order another vodka and waited. The guy swallowed the clear liquid;
his head swiveled from side to side. Orli saw him watching a pair of
dancers who were grinding against each other rather obscenely. He licked
his lips and turned back to his drink. He drained the rest of it and looked
as though he were about to get up, having decided he had enough for one
night. But before he stood his head turned to the left and his gaze settled
on Orlando.

In that split second Viggo swore he'd never seen anything more beautiful in
his life. It might've seemed like a vodka-induced reaction but Viggo soon
learned that Orlando's beauty needed no augmentation. He was instantly
obsessed with the thought of sinking his fingers into the mop of dark brown
curls. And when he smiled his way Viggo's stomach clenched, his cock
twitched.

He couldn't take his eyes off of the beautiful young man and was incredulous
when he realized he was heading his way. Viggo tore his eyes off of him,
signaling for another drink.

"This your first time?" Orli asked, keeping his voice soft, lacing his
words with a hint of warmth. At least his six months at Guildhall were good
for something.

Viggo's head snapped back in Orlando's direction. "What?" he said. There
was a touch of alarm in Viggo's low, raspy voice.

Oh dear. This guy was pretty twitchy. Orlando considered bailing right
then and there. He wanted to make a quick hundred dollars, not hold
someone's hand as they ventured into Queerland for the first time. But
something kept him in that seat. Maybe it was the soft, almost desperate
plea he saw in the older man's blue depths.

Right Bloom. And maybe it's just that you're too fucking lazy to start
trolling for another trick when you've got an easy mark sitting right before
you. Hell, virgins weren't so bad. The guy's naïveté could mean more cash
for less than he usually had to do. "It's all right love," Orli said,
keeping his tone dulcet, amping his accent up a touch. "Nothing to be
ashamed of. We've all been there."

"I..." Viggo said. He sucked in some air. "This isn't..." His heart was
slamming in his chest. Breathe you asshole! Breathe! There was no good
reason that he should be reacting this way to this young man. A young man
that didn't look much older than Henry. "I have to get out of here, excuse
me." Viggo stood and made his way out of the bar.

"Oh, no, you're not getting away that easily," Orlando said to himself,
quickly following right behind. He caught up with Viggo in front of a black
sedan. "Think I could get a ride?" he asked, saying the first thing that
popped into his head.

Viggo looked up, stopped fumbling in his pocket for his keys. "A ride?" he
said.

"Yeah," Orli said, coming close. He pressed his long, lean body against
Viggo's, sliding his hands over his back. "I think you might be going my
way." This was a drastic step to be taking, draping himself over this guy.
He didn't know why but his gut was telling him not to let this one slip
away.

Desire shot through Viggo's entire body, white-hot need igniting his blood,
his cock throbbing inside his jeans. Without thinking, Viggo pressed his
lips to Orlando's. The world melted away as the softest, warmest mouth he
had ever kissed moved against his. Viggo brought his hands up to Orlando's
face. His thumbs stroked over the high cheekbones, his fingers dipped into
the silken brown curls.

For a moment Orlando was lost. He tightened his arms around Viggo's solid
frame. He forgot who he was. Forgot what he was. A tongue shyly moved
against the seam of his lips and Orli parted them tentatively. The warm,
wet muscle entered his mouth, greeting his own tongue hesitantly. Viggo was
no longer caressing his face; instead his arms surrounded Orlando, his hands
working in lazy circles against his back. Orli's heart lurched.

How long had it been since he had been held? Too long, seemed to be the
answer. But this wasn't real. This wasn't right. Orli pulled out of
Viggo's arms suddenly, breaking the kiss. He took a couple of steps back,
catching his breath as he watched Viggo do the same. "The first one's on
me..." Orli said at last. "The next one's going to cost you."

Viggo didn't understand anything Orlando was saying. But then it dawned on
him. Of course. This kid was a hustler. It made complete sense to Viggo,
why else would this gorgeous young man have come on to him? Viggo opened
his mouth to tell Orlando that the very thought of paying for sex disgusted
him. And further more, Viggo had stopped fucking men twenty years ago and
had no intention of starting again. But that's not what came out. "How
much?" he asked in a husky whisper.

A small, triumphant smile flitted over Orli's lips for a brief instant.
"Depends what you want. I'll suck your dick for $75. Or you can suck mine,
whatever floats your boat." This was more than his normal rate.

"How much to..." he breathed, swallowing hard as he felt the color rush to
his cheeks.

"To fuck me?" Orli asked. Viggo nodded a little. Oh, this was like taking
candy from a baby. "Two hundred," he said, doubling his fee.

"Where...where would we..."

"The alley is a lovely spot," Orlando said, taking Viggo's hand and pulling
him in that direction.

"No...wait...isn't there somewhere else we can go?"

"There's a rather disgusting little motel a few blocks down. Hourly rates
and such. But that's not included in the two hundred mate," Orli said.

"That's fine," Viggo said. He pulled out his keys; hit the button that
unlocked the car doors. "Get in."

Orli watched Viggo climb in and then opened the car door and slid into the
passenger side. They drove in almost complete silence. The only words
spoken were when Orlando would tell Viggo where to turn. Viggo paid for two
hours (which Orli thought was exceedingly optimistic).

When they got into the room Orli watched, as Viggo looked around the dark
little room and turned on the lamp sitting on the nightstand. Viggo stood
by the small window, looking out onto the filthy alley below. Orli himself
had no need to see the view. He'd been in this room so many times that they
might as well hang a plaque that read: 'Orli fucked here' over the bed.

Orlando wrapped his arms around himself, resisting the urge to tap his foot
impatiently. He didn't have all night. "Uh...mate? Not to rush things
but...time is money, you know?" he said when he'd had enough.

Viggo closed his eyes. What on earth was he doing here? He was a married
man for fuck's sake. He turned around, raking his hand through his hair.
"Look, I'm sorry for wasting your..." As he looked at Orlando he stopped
speaking. He flashed back to the kiss. In that moment it was like Viggo
was alive for the first time. Lord how he wanted to feel that way again.

"Whatever man, let's just get on with this, yeah?" Orlando walked over to
the bed, standing on the side, in front of Viggo.

"Yeah...so...what...what do we do first?"

"First you pay me mate. And then you fuck me so hard my eyes roll back up
into my skull. Sound like a plan to you?"


Part 4:


"Pay you, right, sorry," Viggo said.  He pulled his wallet out of his back
pocket.  With shaking hands he counted out $200 and handed it to Orlando.

Orli folded the bills up and shoved them into his biker chain wallet.  He
also took out a condom and a packet of lube and put those on the nightstand.
"So, what's you're pleasure mate?" he asked, getting very close to Viggo,
placing his hands against his waist, beneath his shirt.  Orli let his
fingers slide against the other man's skin as he brought them to the front.
He popped the button and unzipped the jeans.  He slipped his hand inside and
was absolutely shocked when he found that Viggo was still soft.

Viggo was watching Orlando's hand, his breathing getting rapid.  "I...what?"

"How do you want me? On my stomach?  On all fours?  On my back?"  Orlando
knew many more positions, of course, but he thought Viggo was going to pass
out as it was and didn't want to flood him with too much information.

"I don't know," Viggo said in a shaky whisper.  "I haven't.... done this in
a really long time."

Orli flashed him a smile.  "What's that saying?  It's like riding a bike,"
he said.  Orli stepped back a little.  He pulled his t-shirt off, kicked off
his sneakers, and then slipped out of his black jeans.

Orlando wasn't wearing any underwear, which Viggo understood.  It probably
was a nuisance in his line of work.  Viggo's eyes roamed over his long, taut
frame.  He drew in a sharp breath.  This kid had the most beautiful body
he'd ever seen.

Orli got very close to Viggo again.  "I don't think shagging has changed all
that much in the last twenty years, so relax, okay man?  Let's just get you
out of these clothes and let the magic happen."

Viggo stood stock still as Orlando's fingers undid the buttons of his shirt
and pushed the garment off of his shoulders.  "I...I got it," he said,
bending to untie his shoes.  Out of the corner of his eye he watched Orlando
climb onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

Orli watched as Viggo slowly slid his faded jeans down his hips but left his
boxer-briefs on.  At least this guy was good looking and had a nice body.
Mostly Orli's tricks were ugly or overweight or both.  Yes, Viggo was
middle-aged but at least he was hot.  Sex was nothing other than work to
Orlando but it was nice to have something decent to look at for a change.
Viggo started climbing up onto the bed.  "You're going to have to take those
off too mate," Orli said.

"Oh," Viggo said, blushing hotly.  He felt like he was going to faint.  What
the hell was he doing?  Viggo Mortensen didn't do things like this.  He was
a forty one year old who lived in Santa Monica with a wife and a son.  The
most excitement Viggo had was when he snuck a cup of regular coffee instead
of drinking decaf like Christine insisted upon.

Orli could see that he was losing his nerve.  He crawled over to the edge of
the bed, standing on his knees.  "You have an amazing body...nothing to be
nervous about," he soothed, tracing a line down Viggo's hard, flat stomach.
He brought his lips against the skin, kissing softly as he moved towards his
nipples.  Orli nipped and sucked at one, then the other, bringing both to
hardness.  While he did this, his hands dragged the underwear down Viggo's
hips.  With expert touches he caressed his cock, feeling it thicken as he
teased the slit with his thumb, ran his finger along the sensitive vein.

Viggo looked down at the top of the curly brown head.  Orlando's mouth was
sucking hard on his nipple while surprisingly soft hands were stroking his
cock.  Viggo slid his trembling fingers into the riot of brown curls.

Orli shivered as Viggo's hand played with his hair.  This man had such
gentleness about him.  This wasn't at all what Orli was used to from his
tricks.  Orlando couldn't help but think that this guy didn't belong here,
doing these dirty things with him, in this ratty motel.  He raised his eyes.
"Ready now?" he said.

Viggo brought his other hand against Orli's cheek.  "So soft..." he
whispered.

"That's not usually a compliment in this type of situation mate," Orli said.

"Viggo," he said.

"What's that?"  Orli said, bewildered.

"You keep calling me mate.  My name is Viggo," he said.

"Oh.  Okay Viggo, come on then, let's see if you can have me screaming your
name as you fuck my brains out, yeah?"  Orli pulled Viggo onto the bed with
him, walking backwards on his knees until he took his previous position,
propping himself up against the headboard.  Orli spread his thighs and
picked up the condom and lube.

Viggo knelt between Orlando's legs.  He looked at the body beneath him.  He
reached a tremulous hand out and touched the lightly muscled plane of
Orlando's abdomen, finger tracing over the sun tattoo.  His fingers slid
down shyly.  "Can I..."

Orli shut his eyes for a second.  He never let guys get all touchy feely
with him.  It was one thing to have a dick shoved up your ass to make some
cash.  It was another to let some guy grope you with their marauding hands.
Also, this was going a hell of a lot slower than usual.  Viggo was treating
him like they were lovers.  Like he actually cared about more than getting
off.  He reopened his eyes, grabbed hold of Viggo's cock.  "Don't you want
to fuck me already Viggo?" he said, voice rough, squeezing hard.

Viggo's blue eyes darkened as his cock became achingly hard.  "Yes," he
hissed.

Orli smiled.  "Good," he said.  He picked up the condom and packet of lube.
Orli ripped the foiled wrapper open.  He rolled the latex sheath onto
Viggo's cock.  He opened the other packet next, slicking Viggo up.  "Is this
how you want me Viggo?"

"Roll over," Viggo said gruffly.

Without saying another word Orli complied.  He crossed his arms near his
head so that he could rest his cheek on his upper arm.  Orli spread his
legs.  It seemed like an eternity before he finally felt Viggo's cock
pressing against his entrance.  Viggo pushed hard against the ring of muscle
until he was past it.  Orli bit down on his lower lip as Viggo penetrated
him fully.

Viggo groaned as Orlando's body seized hold of him.  It had been decades
since Viggo had been inside anything so tight and hot.  He could think of
nothing other than his own need.  Viggo thrust hard into the silken vise.
He pounded himself inside of Orlando's body until he came with a pained
moan, burying his mouth against the young man's back to muffle the wretched
sound.

Orli let out a breath when Viggo pulled out.  He was about to roll over so
he could get dressed and get the fuck out of there when he felt Viggo's hand
running down his back.  He looked at Viggo, who was now lying on his side,
facing him.

"I'm sorry," Viggo said suddenly.

Orli frowned.  Was Viggo apologizing for the brevity of his performance?
Frankly, that's the way Orli liked his tricks.  "Don't worry about it
Viggo," he said.

"But...you didn't...enjoy it, did you?"

Orli resisted the urge to laugh out loud.  This guy was more naïve than Orli
realized.  This was his job.  He never enjoyed it.  "Of course I did," he
lied.  "You're a great lover."

It was Viggo's turn to look skeptical.  "And you're a terrible liar," he
said.

Orli couldn't stop himself from smiling.  He felt Viggo's fingers sliding
down his spine.  Orlando shuddered at the touch.  He knew what Viggo was
doing.  He was tracing the scar that ran the length of his back.

"How'd you get this?"  Viggo asked softly.

"Got pushed out a window by my crazy, incredibly tweaked boyfriend," Orlando
said.

"Shit..."

"Yeah, doctor's thought I'd never walk again at first.  But I lived to fuck
another day," he said.  Orli rolled over then, forcing Viggo to pull his
hand away.

"Uh...you're over eighteen, right?" he said suddenly, realizing he probably
should've asked that sooner.

Orlando laughed.  "Yeah, I'm twenty two.  But sorry, I don't have ID to show
you.  Being an illegal alien and all."  Viggo made a face.  "My visitor's
visa expired about four years ago."

"Oh," Viggo said.

Orlando didn't know why he was sharing all this personal information.  He
never got chatty with tricks.  Maybe he was coming down with something.
Like an aneurism.  "I have to go," he said.  Orlando got off of the bed and
pulled his jeans on, buttoning them up.

Viggo watched as Orli slid his shirt on and pulled his sneakers on.  He got
out of bed too, repeating the same process with his own clothes.  "Uh...do
you need a ride somewhere?  Back to the club maybe?  Or home?"

Orli shook his head a little and laughed.  "You are the strangest trick I've
ever picked up Viggo," he said.  Viggo didn't respond.  "Thanks anyway, I
can walk."

"Is that a good idea?  This isn't the safest of neighborhoods," Viggo said.

Orli laughed again.  "Not for you it isn't.  I'd get in my luxury car and
drive back the suburbs immediately if I were you," Orlando left the room.

"Yeah..."  Viggo said.  He followed after Orlando, catching up with him
outside the motel, near his car.  "You're sure you don't need a lift?"

"Yeah.  Go home Viggo," he said.

"Hey, you never told me your name," Viggo said.

"It's Orlando," he said, walking off.

"Orlando.  That's an unusual name," he called.

"Well, I suppose you would know.  Viggo," he said, smiling, as he didn't
miss a step.

Viggo smiled too.  "Yeah..."  He watched Orlando walk down the block.  When
he was out of sight Viggo opened his car door, got in and drove back home.


Part 5:

The smell of marijuana smoke was thick, even in the hall outside their
apartment as Orlando struggled with the lock.  Again he thought of getting
it fixed.  He did make that extra cash tonight.  But then he thought, fuck
it.  Why was it his responsibility to pay for the lock?  It was Elijah who
was always bringing tricks back to their place.  How else would a stranger
know that their crappy little flat had a couple thousand dollars worth of
electronics in it?

Orlando got the door open and went inside.  He coughed slightly at the heavy
smoke in the air.  He frowned when he saw that Dom was on top of Elijah, on
the mattress (at least they weren't on his futon), fucking him senseless.
Orli ignored them and went into the bathroom.  He stripped and got into the
shower.  "Stupid gits..." he muttered to himself, thinking about Elijah and
Dom.

He didn't understand how they could be lovers.  Fucking someone you actually
cared about was just asking for trouble.  And those two idiots thought they
loved each other.  This, in Orli's mind, was an even better reason not to
shag someone.  Love meant trust.  And trust meant getting hurt.  Orli had
been there and done that, thank you.  For him, sex paid the bills.  There
was really no other reason to have it.  He finished his shower, picked up
his clothes and went back out.

They were still going at it and he continued ignoring them.  Orli pulled on
sweatpants and a fairly clean t-shirt.  He picked the joint up out of the
ashtray and sat on the futon.  He lit it and took a deep drag.  He proceeded
to take his wallet out and count up the evening's take.  He had four hundred
and seven dollars left.  Oh, and fifty-seven cents.  He smiled, yeah.  It
was a good night indeed.  He would've had $450 but he bought cigarettes and
something to eat and gave twenty to Freddy.  Poor Freddy.  Old and sick,
probably with AIDS.  Orli felt bad for the guy and never could just walk by
and not give him some cash if he could spare it.

He set aside his portion of the rent, leaving him with fifty-seven dollars.
He sighed.  Even good nights weren't so good, were they?  Orli noticed that
the humping on the other side of the room stopped.  He looked over at his
friends.  "How do you two expect to make any money if you stay here and shag
each other all fucking night?" he said, his tone light.

"Oh fuck off Orli," Lij said.  He walked his naked self over to Orlando and
took the joint from his hand.  "And who said you could smoke my pot?"

"All I'm saying is you have to pull your weight around here," he said.

"Oh, like you did those three days you wouldn't get out of bed?"  Elijah
said.

Dom was off of the mattress now too.  He pulled on his boxers, came over,
and sat on the other end of the futon.  "Leave him alone Lij," he said.

Orli grimaced.  "It's okay Dom.  But next time you owe Vince $500 for your
expensive habit I'll just let him send his goons to beat the shit out of you
instead of letting him fuck me to pay off your debt, yeah Lij?"

"Sorry Orli," Elijah said.  "Okay?"

"Yeah," Orli said.

Dom picked up the cash Orli had set aside.  He counted it up.  "Fuck,
someone had a good night."

Orli grinned.  "Yeah.  Though my last trick was really weird," he said.

Elijah gave the joint back to Orli to finish and went to put some clothes
on.  "Weird how?  Was he into some kinky shit?" he asked as he moved back
across the room.

Orli stretched out on the futon, leaning his head back as he sucked down
some smoke.  "No.  Not that sort of weird."

"Then what was wrong with him?"  Dom asked.

Orli thought about that.  What was wrong with Viggo?  It was a good
question.  It would've been easy to lump Viggo in with the other so-called
heterosexuals who liked to pay young men for sex.  "He was just
really...timid, you know?"

"Oh," Elijah said, nodding knowingly.  "One of *those*."

Orli sat up.  "Yeah but...he was sort of sweet..."

Dom and Elijah exchanged looks.  Orli never talked about his tricks like
this.  "Oh?"  Elijah said.

"I dunno," Orli sighed, throwing his head back again.  "He seemed to
actually care that I didn't get off."

"How considerate," Elijah scoffed.

"You didn't actually *like* this guy, did you?"  Dom asked.

Orli sat up straight.  "Are you fucking nuts?  Of course I didn't like him.
He was a trick, that's all," he said.  "Now if you two fuckers don't mind,
would you get off my bed so I can get some sleep?"  He kicked at Dom and
Elijah.  Both of his friends got up so Orli crawled beneath the covers,
curling up on his side, arms wrapped around himself.

"We should go out anyway.  The night's fairly young," Dom said.  He went and
got dressed.

"Yeah, see you later Orli," Elijah said.  "Oh, shit," he said, turning back
around as he reached the door.

Orlando knew what was coming.  "How much do you need Lij?" he asked from
beneath the covers.

"I gotta give Vince the fifty I owe him and I need to restock on condoms and
shit..."

Orli sat up.  He gave Elijah the fifty-seven he had and took another fifty
out of his rent money.  "You better fucking pay me back later man," he said.

"Sure thing Orli, thanks," he bent down and lightly kissed Orli's lips.  Dom
and Elijah headed out the front door.

"Lock the door!"  Orli called, "I don't fancy being murdered in my sleep."
He waited until he heard the lock click and then slid back under the covers.
He was desperately tired but couldn't seem to fall asleep.  His mind raced,
thoughts of Viggo swirling around and around.  He could think of nothing but
the gentle way Viggo touched him.  Not when they fucked, of course.  That
was quick, hard, and not very different from all his other tricks.

Instead Orli thought of how Viggo's fingers stroked his dark curls, how his
fingertips ran over Orli's high cheekbones.  His body tingled at the memory
of Viggo's hand tracing down his spine.  Finally Orli drifted off to sleep,
remembering Viggo's arms holding him on the street, under the harsh glare of
the city lights, as he pressed a tender, dangerous kiss to his lips.

***

As Orlando drifted off to sleep on his futon in his shitty, crime-infested
neighborhood, Viggo stood in front of a nearly filled canvas, so full of
energy he could almost feel it oozing out from every pore of his body.
Night became morning and Viggo painted, needing no breaks, feeling no pain
as his hand inevitably started to cramp a little from the prolonged use.
The brush moved in Viggo's hand deliberately, the strokes of color going
exactly where they were meant to go, the image forming before his pale blue
eyes as if some mystical force had control of Viggo's movements.

As he painted Viggo thought of Orlando.  His soft skin, his insanely
beautiful face, the heartrending expression in his liquid brown eyes.  He
thought of the way he trembled against him when they kissed on the street
and trembled again as Viggo touched the scar on his back.

Viggo sighed a little as he realized there was no more room to paint.  He
stepped back and looked at this creation.  He took a very fine brush in hand
and dipped it into some black paint.  In the lower right hand he wrote:
"Orlando".  Stepping back again, Viggo studied the painting.  A faint smile
turned the corner of his lips.

Viggo wasn't as naïve or foolish as Orlando thought.  He knew what had
happened that night.  He understood that the only interest Orlando would
ever have in him was for the money he could make off of him.  But Viggo
didn't care.  He didn't care how it had come to pass; all that mattered was
that he had touched something beautiful that night.  And that thing was a
young man who called himself Orlando.  And Orlando had crept straight into
Viggo's heart.

He knew he should feel shame for what he had done.  And regret.  And guilt
too.  But he didn't.  Later he would feel it, but not now.  Later he would
lie to himself and swear that he would never do what he had done that night
again.  But for now all he thought of was the thrilling feeling of...well,
of *feeling* for the first time in as long as he could remember.  Viggo left
the room, trudged up the stairs and headed off to bed, just as the sun rose,
marking the start of a new day.


Part 6:

Orlando was dying for a cigarette.  He hated the stupid laws in Los
Angeles that banned smoking in bars and clubs.  What the fuck was the
point of going to a bar if you couldn't smoke in it?  Well, aside from
clubs being excellent venues in which an enterprising young man such as
Orlando could ply his trade.  Orli shook his head, picked up his beer and
swallowed a little.  He caught the eye of a trick from two nights
earlier, giving him a lecherous little grin.  No fucking way, Orli thought,
turning his head in the other direction. 

He had been one of the most disgusting guys Orli had been fucked by in
recent memory.  He was hairy, smelled like spoiled milk and grinded his
tiny dick inside Orli for what felt like hours until he came.  Just the
thought of it made Orli's stomach churn.  He swallowed more of his beer
and hazarded another look around.  Hairy Milk Guy had mercifully
disappeared into the crowd. 

"Looking for someone in particular Orlando?"  Dave the bartender asked,
standing in front of him.

"Nah," he said, turning to look at Dave. 

"He hasn't been back you know," he said.

"What?"  Orli said, pretending he didn't know that Dave was talking
about Viggo.

"That guy you picked up about two weeks ago.  Tall, nice build, old but
not ancient old.  That's who you keep looking around for, right?"

Orli kept his face unreadable.  Yes, he was looking for Viggo.  No, he
wasn't going to admit that to Dave.  He was having enough trouble
admitting it to himself.  He'd been thinking about Viggo off and on since
meeting him.  And the way his arrangement worked, he wasn't allowed to
come to the bar more than a few nights a week. 

Orli had been wondering if Viggo had come on one of those nights and
picked up some other hustler.  And for a reason he wasn't comfortable
with, it made him sick to think that.  But now he knew.  Viggo had his one
night of recklessness and was once again safely ensconced in suburban
dreamland.  Well good.  He didn't belong in this world anyway.  "Can I
get another?" he said at last, breaking out of his reverie

"Shit, I already let you have two on the house.  You know what Max'll
do to me if he finds out?"

"Fire you?"  Orlando said, his tone blasé. 

"Yeah, and I need this fucking job."

"Fine," Orlando said.  "Can I get a water then?"

"You got four bucks?  We don't serve tap anymore."

"Fucking shit, what am I supposed to do?  Stick my head in the fucking
toilet and lap up the piss-water?"

"Well if you're *that* thirsty I'm sure we could come to some
understanding..."

Orli laughed at the come-hither look in Dave's eyes.  "That'd be worth
a hell of a lot more than a glass of water love," he said.  Orli got up
from the bar.  He thought of going to stand by the doors to the loo. 
That was usually a good spot to find tricks.  As he pondered this he
felt a hand on his shoulder.  He spun to see Max, the bar owner looming
above him.  "Max, old boy, hey," he said.

"A word Orlando?" the enormous man said.

Orli nodded.  He followed Max to the other end of the bar.  "Good crowd
tonight," Orli said.

"Yeah...listen, I'm going to have to ask you to not come around here
anymore," he said, cutting to the chase.

"Why?  I haven't caused any trouble.  I've been utterly discreet."

"I can't risk it any more Orlando.  The cops are cracking down.  What
if someone rats me out?  I'd lose my liquor license, maybe even get
charged with pandering." 

"Who's going to rat you out?  Fuck Max, 98% of your patrons think I'm
just a hot guy that uses the loo too often.  The other two percent are
the ones taking advantage of the services I provide to the community."

"It's just not worth it to me Orlando," he said.

Orli's heart sunk as he thought of working the streets more often and
looking for tricks at the sleazier dives.  But then he looked up at Max. 
Had he heard a suggestion in the man's voice?  "I'm sorry to hear that. 
I wish there was a way I could make it worth your while," he said
softly.

"Well...maybe you could come into my office for a few minutes?  We
might be able to work something out after all," he said, bringing his hand
against Orli's thigh.

"Yeah, I'm sure we can figure something out," Orli said.  Max got up
and Orli followed him to his office.  Fuck he hated this.  He had to let
Max fuck him and he wasn't going to get paid.  But he needed to be able
to come to Barfly.  "So what's your pleasure mate?" he asked as Max
locked his office door.   

Max pushed him up against the desk.  "Turn around and bend over," he
said.

"I don't fuck without condoms," he said as he turned around.

Max laughed.  "You think I'd shove my dick up some dirty little whore's
ass without one?"  Max grabbed a condom out of the very tasteful bowl
filled with them on his desk.  He ripped it open and slipped it on.

Orli undid his jeans and pushed then down past his hips.  He bent
himself over the desk, hands braced on the black lacquered top.  He grunted
when Max's cock slammed inside of his body, gripping the edge of the
desk harder.  Max's big, heavy body crushed him against the desk, the
edge cutting into his stomach.  "Fuck," he breathed, the pain getting the
better of him, as the cock bore into him, his body trapped.  He bit
down on his lip to prevent any further outbursts.

Max's stamina exceeded most of the sorry fuckers Orli had as clients. 
Instead of it being over in a few short minutes the pounding continued. 
To Orlando it was almost worse than being raped, at least then it was
usually over quickly.  It went on so long, Max moving so vigorously that
he inevitably struck Orli's prostate.  A bitter whimper escaped Orli's
lips then.  He got queasy when tricks made him come.  For whatever
reason it didn't really bother him when it was a blowjob.  But this...  It
was too much, felt too intimate.   

Max had heard the whimper and liked the sound of it.  He angled his
thrusts to hit the gland and reached around to grab hold of Orlando's
cock.  He pummeled his body and brutally pumped his organ until Orli let
out an agonizing moan when he came.  Max redoubled his efforts, thrusting
harder still until he found his release.  The big man pulled out.  He
discarded the condom and zipped up his pants. 

Orlando took a few steps back, legs trembling a little.  He grabbed a
handful of tissues from the box on the desk and cleaned himself up. 
Orli threw them in the wastebasket and redid his jeans.  He turned around
then and looked at Max, who had gotten a bottle of water out of his
mini-fridge.  "Did I make it worth your while?" he asked.

Max grinned.  "For now.  See you around Orlando," he said.

"Yeah, see you around mate," he said, leaving the office.  Orli sucked
in a few deep breaths and walked quickly to the bathroom.  He made his
way into a stall and fell to his knees, vomiting in the bowl.  "Oh
God," he panted, gasping for air before getting sick all over again. 
"Jesus..." he said, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. 

"Hey," a soft voice said from outside the stall.  "Are you okay in
there?"

"Go away," he choked out.  Orli was hyperventilating and then doubled
over the bowl again.  Instead of the concerned bystander going away like
he'd told him to, Orli heard the door (that he hadn't locked in his
haste) creek open a little.  "Are you daft?  I said leave me the fuck
alone!" he said; now turning his head to see who the interloper was. 
"Viggo?" he said, in total shock.

"I thought you were the blur who ran past me...are you okay?"  Viggo
asked gently, bending down a little, placing his hand lightly on
Orlando's back. 

"Please just go away," Orli begged.  He hated being vulnerable.  He
never let anyone see him like this.

"Let me help you," he said. 

'Why would you do that?" he said.  Everyone was always working an
angle, Orli could think of no reason why this man would want to help him if
he didn't want something.  "'Cause if you're looking for a fuck Viggo,
you're going to have to look elsewhere, I'm off duty the rest of the
night." 

"I just want to make sure you're all right.  You think you can stand
up?"  Viggo slid his arm around Orlando's back and helped him to his
feet.

Despite himself Orli held onto Viggo's arms for support.  He raised his
head to see a look of incredible concern in Viggo's pale blue eyes. 
The stall felt entirely too small at that moment.  "I need some air,"
Orli said. 

"Okay," Viggo said.  As they left the bathroom Orlando instantly pulled
away from Viggo.  Fortunately he wasn't walking that fast so Viggo
didn't lose him in the crowd and was able to follow him outside.  When he
got out front he found Orli rummaging in his pockets for something.

"Fuck," he said, producing an empty pack of cigarettes.  He crushed it
in his hand and tossed it into the gutter.

Viggo reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboro's. 
He took one out for himself and then extended it in Orli's direction. 
The kid took one, offering Viggo a small nod in thanks.  Viggo pulled a
matchbook out, struck one, lit his cigarette, and then did the same for
Orlando.  He took a few drags, watching Orlando as he puffed deeply. 
"Thought you needed fresh air," Viggo said finally.

Orli made a face.  "I just needed to get out of the club...gets
stifling sometimes," he said.

Viggo nodded, noticed that Orli's hand that held the cigarette was
trembling.  "I can imagine," he said.

Orli laughed.  "I really doubt that," he said.  There was an awkward
silence for a few minutes.  Orli started thinking about how the night was
wasting away and despite what he'd said to Viggo about being off duty
he needed to make some money.  "What brings you back here Viggo?"

"I don't know," he said.  That was a lie.  He wanted to say 'you'.  But
Viggo knew better, he didn't want to come off as a crazy stalker.  He'd
spent the entire time since that night berating himself for his
weakness.  But Christine had called earlier that day to tell him she'd be away
at least one more week.  And then Henry had called to say he was
staying in Boston the entire summer.  The loneliness was overwhelming and all
Viggo wanted to do was bury it in a mass of soft brown curls.     

"Oh," Orli said, affecting a disappointed pout.  "And here I was hoping
it was me that brought you back."  He came closer to Viggo. 

Viggo laughed.  "Is that right?" he said.

Orli ran his hand up Viggo's stomach, felt his nipples harden beneath
the fabric of his shirt.  "Yeah.  You know, I think I'm up for a fuck
after all Viggo.  What do you say?"  Orli dropped the cigarette and with
his now free hand cupped Viggo through his jeans. 

Viggo breathed in sharply.  Orlando had and intoxicating effect on him. 
And again Viggo was itching to feel those silky curls.  "You don't
really seem like you're in the mood," he said, still seeing that uneasy
look in the younger man's brown eyes. 

"Trust me, I can get in the mood real quick," he said.  "I know you
want to fuck me again Viggo.  And I need the cash, so really it's a
win-win scenario." 

"Why do you need the money?  No other takers tonight?" he asked,
slightly cynical.

"Plenty of takers mate.  Just not the paying kind.  Look, if you must
know I need the cash for my rent which is overdue 'cause my fucking
flatmate borrowed it from me, hasn't paid me back, and doesn't have his
share so unless I want to be evicted I have to cover it all."  There he
went again, spilling out details of his personal life.  What the fuck was
it about Viggo that made him do that? 

"I could just give you the money," he said, wanting very badly to help
Orlando. 

Orlando laughed so wildly at that that it took him a minute or two to
recover to the point where he could speak.  "Why the fuck would you just
give me money?" 

"Because you need it.  And you seemed really upset inside and I don't
want to take advantage of you," he said, sincerely.

"Viggo...I was put on this earth to be taken advantage of.  Look, I'm a
businessman, I don't take handouts.  So if you want to fuck me, I'll
gladly take your $100 as payment, otherwise you're just wasting my time."

Viggo frowned.  There was no point denying why he'd come back down
there.  No point pretending he didn't want to fuck Orlando again.  "A
hundred?" he said after a few beats.  "Last time you charged me two
hundred."

"Did I?" he said.  Damn, Viggo had him so off-kilter that he'd forget
the special suburban rate he'd charged him.  "Well, tonight's your lucky
night.  It's half off at Orlando's House of Pleasure."

Viggo smiled.  "Or maybe you screwed me while I was screwing you last
time?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Maybe," Orli admitted.

"My car's this way, come on," Viggo said, and walked down the street
with Orlando following closely behind.   


Part 7:

Orlando's hands wouldn't stop shaking as he stood in the bathroom in Viggo's
house, splashing water on his face.  What the fuck was he doing here?  Why
hadn't he insisted on going to the motel or fucking in the alley?  Why had
he allowed Viggo to bring him back here?  To fucking Santa Monica.  "Jesus
fucking Christ, get a hold of yourself," he said out loud, being far too
wound up and nervous to laugh at his unintentional innuendo.

Orli closed his eyes and drew in a few deep breaths.  When he reopened them
the look of wild panic seemed to have lessened.  The incident with Max was
something he would ordinarily have just shrugged off as a mere part of life.
But before he could throw the walls back up Viggo had appeared and started
being so kind to him.  And now he was here, on foreign soil, feeling like he
was going to fall apart.

"You can do this," he said.  "Its just another fuck.  Just forget about Max
and focus."  With slightly steadier hands Orli picked up the bottle of
mouthwash and poured some into a small paper cup.  He rinsed his mouth.
Orli tossed the cup into the wastebasket and ran his fingers through his
messy curls.  He took another deep breath and left the bathroom, coming
right into the bedroom.

Viggo was seated on the edge of the bed, waiting, when he heard the door
creek a little as it opened.  He looked up.  Seeing Orlando, Viggo felt like
he'd been punched in the stomach.  He was even more beautiful than he'd
realized.  Until now he'd only seen him in dirty, poorly lit places.  Here
he could see the lovely olive hue of his skin, the deep, rich brown of his
curly hair, and the soft, achingly vulnerable look in his dark eyes.  "You
okay?"  Viggo asked, standing.

"Yeah," he said, wrapping his arms around himself.  Orli stood there, on the
other side of the room and felt afraid.  He hadn't felt this way in a long
time.  Not since the first few times he'd sold his body for money.  But he
wasn't entirely sure what he was so afraid of.  He didn't think Viggo was
dangerous.  But then again maybe he was wrong, maybe Viggo was one of those
people that are always described as quiet and polite by neighbors after they
find the heads of a bunch of male hustlers in their freezers.

Viggo came closer to Orlando.  He reached his hand out and touched his cheek
softly, thumb sweeping over silken skin.  Viggo swallowed hard.  "I've never
seen anyone more beautiful," his soft, raspy voice becoming even softer.

"Thank you," he said, a practiced smile forming on his lips.  He'd heard
that line a zillion times.  While he knew he was attractive, he also knew
his face wasn't as important in his line of work as his firm, tight ass.
Viggo's hand remained on his face, his thumb sliding over his cheek,
dragging over his lips.  Orli's heart began to thud in his chest.  His face
became flushed.  His stomach tightened.  "Viggo," he murmured, the name
slipping past his lips unexpectedly.

Orlando's lips were trembling beneath his touch.  "Yes?"  Viggo breathed.
All he wanted to do was take Orlando into his arms, drag him down onto the
bed and make love to him slowly and sweetly.

"You haven't paid me," Orli said, recovering his equilibrium.  He had to
remember what he was there for, what he was.

"Oh, sorry," Viggo said, pulling his hand away and reaching into his pocket
for his wallet.

Subconsciously Orli brought his own hand to his cheek, touching the skin
that Viggo's hand had so tenderly caressed.  It still felt hot to the touch.
He felt that soft ache of longing in his belly.  He became aware that Viggo
had extended the cash towards him.  Orli took it, automatically counting it.
"This is $200," he said.  "Look, you were right.  I overcharged you last
time.  Here," he began counting out a hundred.

Viggo put his hand on top of Orli's to stop him.  Blue eyes met brown ones.
"Keep it.  Consider it your bonus for being dragged all the way here," he
said.

Orli's eyes narrowed slightly.  This guy couldn't be for real.  Viggo's
warm, gentle hand remained on top of his.  His stomach did flip-flops again.
What the fuck was wrong with him?  Why were these meaningless little touches
making his body react this way?  He pulled his hand away, and nodded,
stuffing the money into his wallet.  Orli took a couple of steps back.  "So,
uh, how do you want me mate?  Same as last time?"  He pulled his shirt off,
tossing it onto the chair in the corner.  He began undoing his jeans.

Viggo crossed the space between them quickly, grabbing hold of Orli's hands.
"Wait..." he said.

"Don't you want to fuck?  I kind of need to take my jeans off for that," he
said.

"I just...want to go a little slower this time, okay?" he said, releasing
Orli's hands.

Orli swallowed hard.  God no, please.  Slow was the last thing he wanted.
He wanted it over with as quickly as possible.  "Yeah," he said, annoyed at
the quiver he heard in his voice, "it's your money mate.  However you want
it is fine with me."

Viggo slid his arms around Orli's waist, gently pulled his body against his
own.  His fingers ran over the smooth soft skin of his back, found the long
scar and traced it leisurely.  Viggo pressed his lips to Orli's shoulder and
kissed a path towards the crook of his neck.  When he got there he sucked
lightly for a bit before moving his mouth along the column of Orli's throat.

Orlando slipped his arms around Viggo because he knew that was what he was
expected to do.  He tried to stay calm as Viggo tenderly stroked his back
and kissed his shoulder, his neck.  He wanted to lean into the embrace, to
moan softly at the sweet feel of Viggo's lips on his skin.  Tears pricked at
his eyes, he didn't want this to feel so good.  He felt like his body was
betraying him.  His heart was pounding faster.  Orlando thought he was going
to have a heart attack.

Viggo's body was on fire.  It was as if he'd been lying dead on a gurney all
these years and then Orli had come along and shocked him back to life.  He
wanted to devour the taut, delicious young body in his arms.  He brought
their mouths together.  He moved his lips lightly, waiting for Orli to
respond in kind.  Viggo maintained the gentle pressure on Orli's mouth for
what felt like an eternity until finally Orli moved his lips, returning the
kiss.

Orli grabbed hold of the fabric of Viggo's t-shirt as he gave in to his
body's needs.  Every fiber of his being was telling him to let go, to feel.
Tears fell hot and silent down his cheeks now.  His lips were parted ever so
slightly and Viggo's tongue gingerly pushed inside.  With an inaudible gasp
Orli opened his mouth fully.  The tongue slid along his own, winding around
its partner.  The kiss deepened.  He impulsively tightened his grasp,
pushing their bodies even closer.

The hard bulge of Viggo's cock straining in his jeans pressed against
Orlando.  It was like a slap in the face, reminding him what his purpose for
being here was.  Orli brought his hands around the front of Viggo's body and
pushed against his upper chest as he broke the kiss.  "Stop," he said.
"Please, let me go."

Viggo obeyed Orli's soft, frightened sounding plea.  He let the young man go
and stepped back to give him space.  "I'm sorry...what did I do?" he said,
confused.

Orli shook his head.  "I can't do this...  You want to throw me down on the
bed and fuck the shit out of me then do it.  But this..." he waved his hand
to indicate whatever had just happened between them.  "It's not part of the
bargain mate."

Viggo frowned, hating the fact that something he'd done had caused Orlando
to cry.  "I'm sorry," he said again.  "It seemed like you were enjoying it
though..."

Orli let out a bitter laugh.  "Oh, I already enjoyed it enough for one night
before you showed up."

"What happened?  Why were you getting sick in the bathroom at the club?" he
said.

"Something that was shoved up my ass didn't agree with me," he said, sitting
on the bed.

Viggo sat on the same side but with a couple of feet between them.  "Were
you...raped?  I know that happens to...people like you sometimes."  Viggo
could barely get out the words.

"Ahh, all up on your whore history, are you?" he said.  Orli sucked in a
breath.  "No.  Not tonight I wasn't.  A trick made me come," he said, not
feeling like giving Viggo a full account of what had transpired between him
and Max.

"That's bad?  I would've thought you would...you know..."

"What?  Want to get something out of the fucking for myself?  I already do
mate.  It's called money.  Look, it's getting late.  Can we just do this so
I can take my money and get the hell out of here?" he said.

"I don't think we should," Viggo said.  His heart was breaking for Orlando.
He was thinking about how hard-edged Orlando had seemed that first night and
how now he looked so vulnerable, so young.

"Why not?  Look, I'm sorry I'm carrying on like this.  I don't know what the
fuck is wrong with me.  But I'm here already, you're hard and I need the
cash.  It's simple mathematics," he said, forcing his voice to lose the
anguished tone.

"I can drive you home and jerk myself off later.  As for the money, I told
you that you could have it.  I want to help you," he said.

"No.  People don't just help other people.  They always expect something
back and I'd rather not owe anyone anything," he said.

"I promise you that you won't owe me anything in return Orlando," he said.

"Promises don't mean shit Viggo.  I stopped trusting people's promises ages
ago."  Orlando slid himself closer to Viggo.  He could still see the lump in
Viggo's jeans.  He took his hand and pushed hard against it, eliciting a low
groan.  He undid the button, unzipped the jeans and slipped his hand inside,
taking hold of the hard, hot shaft of flesh.  He pumped and squeezed Viggo's
cock.  "I'm already bought and paid for Viggo, you might as well get your
money's worth," he breathed into his ear.

Viggo's head fell back as he moaned and panted.  There seemed to be no point
in arguing.  Orli had an answer for everything.  And the truth was he was
aching to bury himself inside Orlando again.  How could he send him away
when his mere proximity awoke something within Viggo that he thought he'd
never feel again?

Orli took his hand out.  He got up and removed his jeans, taking the condom
and packet of lube out first.  He climbed up on the bed and lay against his
stomach.  He turned his head to see that Viggo was still sitting where he'd
left him, eyes roaming over Orli's body ravenously.  "Come on Viggo, I bet
this bed hasn't seen a good fucking in along time."

Viggo stood up.  "I haven't fucked my wife in two years," he said.  He
stripped out of his clothes and joined Orlando on the bed.  He took the
condom and ripped the wrapper open.  Viggo slid it onto his cock.

"Why's that?"  Orli asked.  He watched Viggo use the lube to slick himself.

"You ever tried to fuck a block of ice?" he said, climbing on top of
Orlando.  He guided himself against his entrance and slowly pushed the tip
inside.  Viggo groaned.  Christine was ice.  But Orlando was all heat.

Orli shut his eyes as Viggo penetrated him.  He was still somewhat loose
from the barrage he took from Max so Viggo was able to slide his entire cock
in with relative ease and little resistance.  Viggo rocked his hips a lot
less quickly than he had the other time.  Fortunately, in Orli's mind, the
angle wasn't quite right and he wasn't striking his prostate.  But just then
Viggo shifted and collided with his pleasure center, sending a flood of
ecstasy through Orli's frame.

The soft moan encouraged Viggo, who continued rocking his hips so that he
struck that spot over and over.  The tight, velvet grip rippled around his
cock and Viggo pushed himself deeper still.  Orli was moving in time with
Viggo's body now.  Viggo increased his tempo, the heat that clamped onto his
organ driving him wild with the need for release.  With a few more powerful
thrusts he came, groaning loudly.  As he gasped to catch his breath he
realized Orli was lying completely still beneath him.  Viggo pulled out and
slid to the side.  He quickly dashed off to the bathroom and disposed of the
used condom.

When he returned he saw that Orli had rolled onto his back and was half
leaning against the headboard, his fingers interlocked, his hands resting on
the top of his head.  A glance down told him that Orli was still hard.
Viggo got back on the bed.  He could see the way Orli's thighs and abdomen
muscles quivered with pent up need.  Viggo didn't understand this.  Orli
looked like he was so hard it hurt.  "I'm sorry," he said.

Orli shook his head.  "I told you, I don't like when tricks make me come,"
he said.

"And last time I was done so fast that it wasn't even an issue," Viggo said,
sort of understanding.  Orli seemed like he tried to cut himself off from
feeling things, so it made some sense that he wouldn't want to give one of
his clients that kind of power.  "Blowjobs don't count?" he asked suddenly.

Orli looked at Viggo.  "What?"

"You offered to go down on me for $75.  And then you said I could go down on
you.  Whichever I preferred.  So blowjobs don't count?"

"It's different..."  Orli said.

"You sound like Bill Clinton," he said.  Viggo reached over to the side of
the bed.  He took out another $75 from his wallet.  He took hold of Orli's
hand (that was still on the top of his head) and stuffed the cash into his
clenched fist.

Orli's eyes were wide as Viggo bent his head low.  He shuddered when Viggo's
tongue licked the tip of his weeping organ.  He moaned as he was taken
inside the hot, wet heat of his mouth.  Viggo moved up and down his length,
teeth grazing lightly against his overheated flesh.  Orli cried out and
raised his hips.

Viggo nearly gagged as Orli thrust his cock deeper.  He hadn't done this
since college so he was a bit out of practice.  But back then Viggo had a
reputation for giving good head so he was intent on using whatever skill he
still possessed to give Orlando pleasure.  He placed his hands against
Orli's hips to prevent any further gag-inducing thrusts.  He set a steady
rhythm of sucking and licking.  Orli was moaning and writhing.  He reacted
to the sweet sounding moans by sucking harder.

Orli left the hand that clenched the money on top of his head.  His other
hand he brought on top of Viggo's skull, fingers sinking into honey brown
locks.  Orli moaned louder and when he was about to come he tugged hard on
Viggo's hair.

It had the desired effect.  Viggo let Orli's cock slip from his lips and
looked up to see what was wrong.  He saw Orli screw his eyes shut as he
came, letting out a long, sweet-sounding moan.  Orli was still now.  He was
breathing heavy and his lips were trembling a little. "Orlando?"

"Not safe to...swallow...a hustler's cum..." he panted.

Viggo's throat constricted.  He was touched that Orli would think of his
safety before his own gratification.  He grabbed a bunch of tissues from the
box and gently cleaned Orlando up, noting that Orli barely moved as he did
this.  Viggo sat up then and studied Orli's face.  His eyes remained closed.
Viggo reached his hand out and touched his cheek softly.  "But it
was...okay?" he whispered.  Orli nodded a little.  Viggo smiled softly.
"I'll be right back, don't leave yet, all right?"  Another little nod.
Viggo got off of the bed.  He went to throw away the tissues and use the
bathroom and then returned moments later.

Orli had sunk down onto his back, hand still clenching the money.  His body
was otherwise fully relaxed and his breathing was soft and easy.  Viggo
crossed his arms over his chest and watched him sleep, wondering when the
last time this young man had rested so soundly was.  Viggo pulled his boxers
on and turned off the lights.  He got on the bed next to Orlando.  Carefully
he took the money out of his hand and put it on the nightstand.  Viggo drew
the covers up over them both.  He didn't want to wake or frighten Orlando so
he left a good amount of space between them even though he longed to wrap
his arms around the sleeping beauty beside him.

Very carefully Viggo bent over and indulged himself by pressing a light kiss
to Orlando's cheek.  "Sleep well," he whispered before turning onto his
side, facing Orlando, and falling into a deep sleep.


Part 8:

Orlando woke up and felt warm.  Warm and safe.  It felt so good he didn't
want the feeling to ever end.  He nestled back against the warmth and
realized, quite suddenly, that there was a body curled against his back.
And shockingly enough, there was an arm draped around him as well, holding
him in place loosely.  Soft breath blew against his neck and he felt
millions of little Goosebumps popping up all over his skin.  "Oh shit,"
he muttered.

Carefully he removed the arm from his body.  Orli scooted over a little and
turned around.  Viggo was sound asleep next to him, a look of utter peace on
his face.  Orlando's hand began to move, seemingly of its own volition.
With his fingertips he touched Viggo's cheek, traced the line of his jaw.
Orli's first impression of Viggo had been that he was ruggedly handsome.
And yes, that was true.  But there was more than that.  He was beautiful
too.  In an untamed sort of way.  And more than that, there was something
about Viggo that made him feel protected.  Orli's heart rate sped up as
his fingers brushed over Viggo's lips.

Abruptly Orli realized what he was doing and jerked his hand back, as if
he'd been burned.  "What the hell am I doing?" he whispered.  He scrambled
to get off of the bed.  He stumbled over his jeans that were crumpled up on
the floor.  "Fuck," he said loudly, as he almost fell but somehow
remained upright.  He picked up the jeans and pulled them on.

Orli's frantic rush to get out of the bed had woken Viggo so when he cursed
Viggo sat up.  "Orlando?  Are you okay?" he asked, getting out of bed
and coming over to the younger man.

"Yes.  Now back the fuck off mate," he said, feeling like the air had
been sucked out of the room, as Viggo stood perilously close.

Viggo stepped back a couple of feet, hands raised in a conciliatory
gesture. "I'm sorry."

Orli's stomach twisted at the hurt in Viggo's voice, which he noticed
sounded even more gravelly early in the morning than it usually was. "I
have to get out of here," he said.  He picked up his shirt and pulled
that on too.

"I can drive you back to the city," Viggo offered as he watched Orli
shove his feet into his shoes and take the money off of the nightstand.

"You've done enough Viggo," he said.  He left the room and headed down
the stairs.

Viggo followed behind him.  "How are you going to get back then?" 
Viggo asked as he saw Orli walking towards the front door.

Orli stopped in his tracks.  He hadn't thought of that.  Shit, he hadn't
really thought at all in the last twelve hours, had he?  First he broke a
major rule by going home with a trick.  And to make matters worse he'd let
his guard down and fallen asleep in said trick's bed.  "I'll find a pay
phone, call a taxi," he said finally, keeping his back to Viggo.  He
opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.  He squinted at the bright
sunshine.  It was relatively smog free here in Santa Monica.

Viggo stepped outside as well.  "You're not going to find a pay phone
anywhere around here.  If you want to use my phone you can," he said. Viggo
wanted very badly for a little more time with Orlando.  Especially during
the daytime.  He wanted to see if Orli would talk to him, was hungry to
know more about this complicated creature.

Orlando sighed and turned around.  "Why are you so nice to me?" he
said.

Viggo frowned.  "How else should I treat you?" he asked.

"Like everyone else does.  Like a worthless piece of ass whose only use
is for a quick fuck," he said, his voice becoming icy.

Viggo's heart broke.  "Orlando..."

"Don't...don't tell me that its not true.  Because it is.  Except maybe the
worthless part.  I know what I'm worth.  A hundred dollars a shag," he said.
There was a strained silence as Viggo seemed to not know what to say to
that.  "See you around Viggo," Orli said at last.  He turned to go.

Without thinking Viggo grabbed hold of Orli by the forearm.  "Wait..."
he said, his voice soft.

Orli turned his head.  "Let-me-go," he said, enunciating each word
slowly.

Viggo released his hold.  "I'm sorry.  Just come back inside," he said.

Orli shook his head.  He felt like he had to get away from Viggo, had
to get away now.  He turned again and put his foot on the first step. An
unexpected wave of dizziness came over him and his legs wobbled.  He
grabbed onto the railing for support.

Viggo came instantly behind Orlando.  He took gentle hold of both of his
upper arms, afraid that he was going to tumble down the steps.  "What
happened?"  Viggo asked softly.

"Nothing," he said, shutting his eyes as his head spun.  "I just-just
haven't eaten in awhile," he said, having to lean back against Viggo for
support, as the light-headed feeling wouldn't subside.  He could feel the
warmth drain from his body, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. He
sucked in a few breaths, feeling like he was going to pass out.

"You're coming back inside, come on," Viggo said.  Fortunately Orli didn't
protest any more, allowing himself to be led back into the house. Viggo
took him into the kitchen.  He pulled a chair out for him.  "Sit," he
commanded.  "What do want to eat?"

Orli sank into the chair.  He rested his elbows on the table, buried his
face in his hands.  "You don't have to feed me," he said, looking up.

"Yes, I know.  You don't want me to be nice to you.  You'd rather I treat
you like shit, right?  I should've just watched you go tumbling down
the steps, let you crack your skull open on my property."

"Yeah.  'Cause if I survived I could've sued you for big bucks and
retired to Palm Springs," he said, a glint coming back into his eyes.

Viggo snorted and shook his head.  "You just can't accept that someone
might give a fuck about you," he said.

"People want *to* fuck me, they don't give a fuck *about* me.  See the
subtle difference mate?" he said.

Viggo sighed.  "Do you like eggs?"  he asked.

"I don't eat eggs."

"Okay...cereal then?"

"I don't eat any dairy at all, so unless you have soymilk..."

Viggo grinned.  He produced a bottle of soymilk and set it before Orlando.
He then got the cereal box out and poured two bowls.  Getting two spoons he
sat across from Orlando.  Viggo poured the soymilk over his cereal and
started to eat.  Orlando just watched him.  "Aren't you going to eat?"

"What are you doing with soymilk?"  Orli asked, pouring some on his
cereal and taking a spoonful.

"Christine-my wife-won't let me drink regular milk.  So she buys this
shit...she's a real health nut," he said.

"Well, soymilk is healthier," Orli said.

Viggo thought it was ironic that someone with Orli's risky line of work
would care about eating healthy.  "I guess it is.  It really fucks up
the taste of coffee though," he said.

"You just have to get used to it," Orli said.  It felt weird to be sitting
in Viggo's kitchen having a normal conversation with him about the merits of
soymilk.  But it also felt nice.  "So your wife's a real bitch, huh?" he
asked.  He decided to go on the offensive, get Viggo talking about himself
before Viggo had a chance to ask him any questions.  What he didn't
admit to himself was that he *wanted* to know more about Viggo too.

"She's not so bad," Viggo said.

"No?  That why you called her a block of ice and said you hadn't fucked
her in two years?"

"Well, she is a little cold but...she's not a bad person," he said.

Orli smiled softly.  He could tell Viggo was trying to be polite.  He
probably didn't like saying bad things about anyone.  "So how long have
you known?"

Viggo got up and took the carton of orange juice out of the refrigerator.
He poured Orlando a glass without asking if he wanted it, and also
poured one for himself.  "Known?" he said.

"That you're gay," Orli said.

"Oh..." he said, cheeks flushing.  "I don't know..."

"You don't know?  How can you not know?"

"I just don't.  In college I..."

"Fucked guys," Orli provided.

"Yeah. But I knew how devastated my family would be if I..." he shook his
head. It had been a painful time for Viggo. "I was in love with someone.
His name was James. He was very.... proud of who he was. And I wasn't. 
He wanted me to tell my family, tell the world...I couldn't. I was a
coward and I was ashamed of what I was. So we broke up. And then I met
Chris. We got along pretty well. I just wanted to be normal, you know?"

"I never wanted to be normal," Orli said softly.  He could see that the
pain was still fresh for Viggo.  "Lucky me it worked out that way, huh?"

Viggo let out a soft, sad chuckle.  "I got Chris pregnant and we got
married.  It was that simple.  I just shut the door on my own desires,
my dreams.  And I got this.  A nice, normal suburban life."

"Were you ever happy?"  Orli asked.

Viggo nodded.  "Sure.  For a while.  When Henry was little.  He was my
world.  I loved being a father.  Yeah, I was in a loveless marriage. 
And yeah, my job was draining my soul out bit by bit.  But I figured
getting Henry out of the bargain more than made up for it."

"So what happened?"

Viggo laughed harshly. "He got older. And like most kids started hating
his parents. He got over that, before he left for college, but we haven't
been close in a very long time."  They were quiet then, eating their
cereal in silence. Then Viggo spoke again. "You must think it's pretty
pathetic, huh?"

"What?"  Orli asked.

"My sob story.  My life isn't exactly tragic and here I am bitching to
you about it," he said.

Orli shrugged, swallowing some juice.  "It's not pathetic.  It's *your*
life, your pain.  It's not a contest to see whose is greater," he said.
Orli ate a few more spoonfuls of cereal.  "But if it was, I'd win," he
said.

"Yeah," Viggo said.  "I'd like to hear about your life Orlando."

Orli frowned.  "No you wouldn't.  It's my life and I wish I could
forget most of it."

"I'd still like to know," he said.

Orli closed his eyes for a second.  Something inside was telling him to let
it all out, to spill out his pain and let Viggo make it better.  He imagined
being held in the comfort and safety of Viggo's arms.  But he couldn't
do it.  He'd been unraveling since last night and he thought he'd come
completely undone if he started opening up to Viggo now.  He couldn't risk
it.  He'd seen it happen to a friend of his.  He'd seen him snap and a
week later turn up dead in some alley.  "I can't.  Not now," he said.  He
stood up.  "I really have to go.  Can I use your phone?"

"Sure," he said.  Viggo watched Orlando make a call to information and get
the number of a car service.  After he'd called it, Orli hung the phone
up. "How long?"

"Ten minutes," he said.  Viggo nodded.  Orlando sat back down and finished
his orange juice while Viggo ate.  Finally a car horn honked outside. 
Orli got up.  "See you around Viggo."  He left the room and walked to the
front door.

Viggo caught him just before he opened it.  "Would it be all right if I
came back to the bar?  Maybe tomorrow?" he asked, his voice trembling
slightly.

Orli turned around.  "You can do whatever the fuck you want, it's a
free country, right mate?"

"If you'd rather not see me then I won't," Viggo said.

Orli sighed.  "I'll be there around ten or so.  See you there Viggo,"
he said.

"Yeah, see you there," he said and watched Orlando leave the house.  He
waited for the sound of the car pulling away and then went off to his
office, suddenly inspired to paint.


Part 9:

Orlando showed up at Barfly shortly before eleven.  He was late and there
was no sign of Viggo.  He wasn't sitting at the bar.  Orli scanned the crowd
on the dance floor even though he didn't expect to see him in the throng of
dancers.  "Fuck," Orli muttered.  He moved over to the bar and ordered a
beer.

Since leaving Viggo's house two days ago Orlando hadn't been able to stop
thinking about him.  He told himself it was just that Viggo was so different
from all his other tricks.  That the unexpected kindness he was shown had
thrown him for a loop.  He steadfastly avoided delving any deeper into his
daydreams of Viggo.  Dreams in which Orli found himself wrapped in Viggo's
strong arms, in which he melted beneath Viggo's soft lips.

Orli ignored the butterflies in his stomach that had been steadily
multiplying all day as the anticipation of seeing Viggo grew.  But then he'd
been delayed.  First by Elijah's drama-du-jour.  Then by a couple of rich
college boys skulking around the boulevard looking for some fun.  They
flashed a lot of cash and it was too good of a payday to turn down.  But now
he was late.  He knew it shouldn't bother him.  He would be better off if he
never saw Viggo again.  But just the chance that he might not see Viggo
again was like a knife twisting in his heart.

"Hey," a soft voice said from behind as a hand was laid on Orlando's
shoulder.

Orli spun in the stool.  "Oh, hey mate," he said, unable to hide the
disappointment that it wasn't Viggo.  The guy was one of Orli's regular
customers.  He was in his mid-forties and slightly over-weight.

"Haven't seen you lately," the guy said.

"I've been around," he said.

"Well I've missed you," he said, smirking.

"Yeah?"  Orlando said.  That was Orli's cue.  He should make his
proposition, score another easy hundred bucks.  So why did he hold his
tongue?  Just then his heart stopped as he saw the familiar figure of Viggo
enter the bar.

"So how about it Orlando?" the guy said, leaning close.

"I...can't tonight," he said, getting off of the chair.  He started walking
in Viggo's direction.  The guy grabbed his arm, squeezing hard.

"What do you mean you can't?" he said.

"I have a prior engagement.  Now let go of my arm before you get us both
kicked out of this place, yeah?"

Viggo had stopped about three meters from Orlando when he had seen the guy
grab hold of his arm.  He saw fear flash in Orli's eyes and saw his face
twist in pain.  With every fiber of his being he wanted to rush over there
and pull that guy off of Orlando.  But Viggo knew that would cause a scene.
And he also knew that Orli would probably not appreciate Viggo charging in
and playing the white knight.  So Viggo stood back and watched.  He released
a breath he wasn't aware he was holding when the guy let Orli go.  Within
seconds Orlando was in front of him, grabbing hold of *his* arm.

"We're not staying here," Orli said.

"Okay," Viggo said and let Orli lead him outside.  As soon as they'd left
the bar Orli let go of Viggo's arm.  "Are you okay?"

"Yeah...you're really bad for business Viggo, you do know that, right?" he
said, taking out his pack of cigarettes.  He pulled one out and lit it.

"What did that guy want?"  Viggo asked.  Orli looked at him like he had just
asked the stupidest question possible.  "Oh..."

"So why were you late Viggo?  I nearly had to look for other options," he
said, sucking on the cigarette.

"I'm sorry.  My wife called just as I was about to leave.  She was supposed
to be away for another week but she's coming home tomorrow," he said.

"Oh," Orli said.

"I'm surprised you waited for me," Viggo said.

"I didn't.  I just got here myself.  My flatmate had a bit of a crisis and
then I had a rather lucrative gang bang with these two horny university
chaps," he said.  "Although, perhaps gang bang isn't the right term.  There
were only two of them."

"Oh," Viggo said.

"Shocked Viggo?  This is who I am.  I'm a whore who'll let anyone fuck him
for the right price," he said.

Viggo frowned.  He caught onto Orli's game.  The kid was trying to remind
Viggo that there was nothing more than a business transaction going on
between them.  "Do you want to get something to eat?"

"What?"  Orli said.  Why wasn't Viggo storming off in disgust?

"You know, food?  I was so caught up painting that I skipped dinner."

"Viggo...we're not dating you don't have to buy me meals," he said.

"I'm hungry Orlando.  I don't feel like fucking on an empty stomach."

Orli sighed.  "Fine," he said.  He caught a smile on Viggo's lips before he
headed over to his car.  Orli followed and slid into the passenger's seat.
Orli was quiet as Viggo drove.  Viggo parked in front of one of those diners
that were open twenty-four hours a day.  They went inside and sat in a booth
in the back.  Viggo ordered a turkey sandwich and Orli ordered a veggie
burger.

Viggo took a sip of his soda and watched Orlando devour his burger.  "So
what happened to your flatmate?"

Orli looked up and met Viggo's eyes.  "Same thing that always happens.  He
owes money to his dealer," he said.  "Stupid git...he'd be dead a dozen
times over if I wasn't around to clean up his messes.  One wonders how he
survived until he met me six months ago."

"Seems like he's lucky to have you for as friend," he said.

"Oh yeah, he's fucking blessed to have the likes of me in his life..."  Orli
said.

"Sounds like he is.  You did say he'd be dead without you around," he said.

"He'd probably be better off dead," he said.  He didn't really mean it.  He
liked Elijah.  Dom and Lij were his only friends.  But still, that's how
Orli felt.  Even about himself.  Sometimes he half-hoped some crazy trick
would put him out of his misery for good.  It wasn't that he was suicidal,
just tired of it all.

"How'd you wind up here Orlando?"  Viggo asked after a lengthy silence.

"You drove me over here in your car Viggo.  I didn't know people your age
could be senile," he said.  Viggo made a face.  "Oh, you meant how did I
wind up in Los Angeles.  I flew over on one of those new-fangled flying
machines.  They're called airplanes."

"Fine, if you don't want to tell me you don't have to," Viggo said.  He went
back to eating his sandwich.

Orli was done with his veggie burger and was polishing off his French fries.
"I was living with this bloke in London.  He took a job here.  I came
along," he said.

"What happened?"  Viggo asked softly.

"He found someone new," he said.  "Kicked me out."

"Why didn't you go back home?"

"No money.  No way to get back.  Not like there was some idyllic life
waiting for me anyway."

"What about your parents?"

"My dad died when I was four..." he said.  Orli's head drooped.  He couldn't
look into Viggo's kind, soulful eyes or he knew the dam would break.  "My
mum couldn't handle it...she started drinking all the time.  You could
usually find her passed out on the sofa holding a bottle."

"I'm sorry Orlando," he said gently.  Viggo reached across the table and
took Orli's hand in his.  He wanted to know more, had a million more
questions.  But he wasn't going to push it, not now.  For a second Orli let
Viggo hold his hand, let him rub soothing circles over the back with his
thumb.  But then he jerked it away.

"It's just life man...no use crying over it," he said, pushing the painful
memories down by a sheer act of willpower.  He brought his eyes up to meet
Viggo's.

"Yeah," Viggo said.  The look in Orli's soft, expressive eyes tore Viggo up
inside.

"Are we going to your house again?"  Orli asked.

"Um...if I pay you will you do anything I want?"  Viggo asked.

Orli's stomach clenched.  Viggo seemed so normal.  So vanilla.  "Uh...well,
I do charge extra for particular kinks..."

"Okay," Viggo nodded.  "What do you charge for movies?"

Orli's brown eyes grew wide.  "You want to make some sort of home video?"

Viggo smiled.  "No.  I want to go see a movie.  I haven't been in ages.
What do you say?  Your choice."

Orlando was entirely confused.  "Do you have a fantasy about fucking in a
movie theater?"

"I just want to go see a movie.  Eat some nachos.  Buy some snowcaps," he
said.  Viggo took out his wallet.  He put the money for the food on the
table and pulled out two hundred dollar bills.  He gave them to Orlando.
"For your valuable time."

Orli stuffed the money into his pocket.  "You're a very strange man Viggo."

"I know.  Come on, there are midnight showings at a theater not very far
from here, if we hurry we can make it," Viggo said.  He got up and left the
restaurant.

Orlando sat there in disbelief for a moment.  Then he stood.  It occurred to
him that he could slip out the back door, stealing Viggo's money and then
most likely never have to see him again.  He took a few steps in that
direction, then stopped.  "Oh fuck me, this is going to be the end of me...I
just know it," he said to himself.  Orli turned back around, went out the
front door, and joined Viggo in his car.


Part 10:

Orli and Viggo walked out of the movie theater.  They moved slowly,
seemingly in no rush to get to Viggo's car and face the looming question of
"what next".  Orlando popped a few Sno-Caps into his mouth.  "So what did
you think?"  Viggo asked.

"I quite liked it.  Haven't been to a movie in a long time...didn't see the
first one," Orli said.  He was so baffled by his feelings that he'd opted
not to think about it too deeply and just let himself relax in Viggo's
company.  He was, in his heart, an actor after all.  He could set aside the
role of whore for one night and play the part of normal young bloke on a
date with an exceedingly handsome older man.  "What about you?"

"Action movies aren't really my thing.  But I happen to be a big fan of Ian
McKellan so I'll see anything he's in," Viggo said.

Orli grinned.  "Now I wonder why you're such a fan," he said.

Viggo shook his head and smiled a bit.  "It's not because he's gay.  I've
been a fan of his for a long time, before I even knew."

Orli nodded.  "He was in those Lord of the Rings films, right?  God, I
always loved those books.  I knew they'd make incredible movies if someone
had the right vision..." he said.

"Yeah, he was.  Have you seen the movies?  They're amazing," he said.

Orli shook his head.  "Like I said, I don't go to the cinema that often.
Too painful," he said, adding the last part softly.

"Why's that?" he asked gently.  Whenever they talked it seemed like Orlando
was always on the verge of revealing something deeply personal but he always
pulled back before he did.

"Just a silly childhood fantasy that I held onto for far too long," he said.
Orli stopped walking, leaned against the nearest car.  He clamped his eyes
shut in an attempt to forestall the tears.

Viggo stood about a foot in front of the younger man.  He reached his hand
out, stroked Orlando's arm comfortingly; let it come to rest on his
shoulder, squeezing lightly.  "Tell me about it?" he asked softly.

Orli raised his head, opened his eyes.  With the back of his hand he brushed
the tears away.  "I wanted to be an actor," he said, letting out a bitter
little laugh.  "That's all I thought about growing up.  Fuck, I felt like I
was acting most of the time anyway.  Pretending to be happy in school so no
one would know how bad it was at home...pretending I wasn't in serious pain
after my mum's boyfriend beat me...acting like all the hurtful things he
said about how stupid I was, how useless I was, didn't bother me...it was
great training, you know?"  Orli paused, drew in a shuddering breath.  "I
even when to drama school for a few months..."

"Why'd you quit?"

"I told you.  The guy I was with took a job here.  He-he was the only person
who ever cared about me...  I had no one else.  I couldn't even imagine
staying in London all alone.  I wasn't used to taking care of myself then.
I didn't learn that until I came here and had no other choice."  The tears
were flowing freely now; Orli felt like was coming apart at the seams.

Viggo carefully pulled Orlando into his arms.  The young Brit's body was
racked by tremors as he sobbed against him.  Viggo rubbed soothing circles
against his back, stroked his hair tenderly.  He held Orlando for a long
time, feeling the body against him become still.  "I'm sorry Orlando...the
movie was a bad idea," Viggo whispered.

Orli pulled out of Viggo's embrace.  "Forget it.  I'm fine," he said.

"You don't look fine," Viggo said.

"Well I am," he said.  Orli was angry.  But exactly where that anger was
directed Orli wasn't certain.  Was he angry with Viggo for making him feel
so vulnerable?  Or was he angry with himself for allowing Viggo to get under
his skin.  At the moment it was a little of both.  "So thanks for the lovely
evening.  You've been a wonderful date," he said, voice dripping with
sarcasm.

Viggo frowned.  "I'm sorry you didn't enjoy yourself," Viggo said.

Orli felt a twinge of guilt for his harsh tone.  Why did Viggo's gentle
words seem to go right to Orli's heart?  Why did Viggo's low, raspy way of
speaking make him tingle like that?  "Whatever man.  So do you want to get
your money's worth and fuck me already?"

Viggo shook his head.  "No.  We're not fucking tonight."

"Viggo, you know I'm overcharging you anyway, so lets just get into that big
backseat and you can fuck me good and hard," he said.

"I told you.  I just wanted to spend some time with you, that's what the
money was for," he said.

Orli swallowed hard, felt his heart spasm, his stomach tighten.  "Why would
you waste your money like that?"

"I just...I like you," he said softly.

"Why?"  Orli said, scrunching his forehead up in utter bewilderment.

Viggo leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Orli's lips.  "I just do,"
he breathed, lips still touching the Brit's.

With a sudden, violent motion Orli jerked his body away from Viggo's.  "I
can't...I can't do this," he said, staggering backwards.

"Orlando," Viggo said, stepping forward.

"Don't.  Don't come any closer.  I have to get out of here," he said.

"Orlando, please, I don't understand," he said.

"Just leave me the fuck alone Viggo.  Please," he begged.

"I'm sorry.  We're practically in the middle of nowhere, just come with me,
I'll take you home," he said.

Orli took a couple of deep breaths.  "Okay..." he said, wanting to get away
but also too tired to walk until he found a payphone or a bus stop.    He
followed Viggo over to his car and got in.

Orli was so dazed that he mindlessly gave Viggo the directions to his
apartment building.  Viggo pulled the car down Orli's block, stopping in
front of a rundown building with a homeless guy passed out on the steps.
"This is it?"  Viggo asked.  It was a bit of a shock to see the building
where Orlando lived.  While he understood that Orli lived this sort of
desperate life he hadn't been able to picture him living in such awful
conditions.

"Yeah," Orli said, "thanks for the lift."  He opened his door and walked
around the car.

"Orlando?"  Viggo called.

Orli stopped, turned.  "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for upsetting you."

Orli nodded.  "No worries.  See you around mate," he said, climbing over the
man on the steps and going inside the building.

"Count on it," Viggo said, pulling the car down the block and driving back
to Santa Monica.

Orli came into his apartment.  Dom was asleep on the mattress in the corner;
Elijah was sitting on the futon, watching their crappy little TV.  "Hey
Lij," Orli said.  He pulled off his shirt, slipped out of his jeans.  He
pulled on track pants and curled up on the opposite side of the futon.

Elijah held out the joint to him, Orli took it.  "Good night?" he asked.

Orli shrugged.  "Decent," he said.

"Hey Orli, thanks for helping me out with Vince," he said.

Orli took a deep drag, blew the smoke out.  "No problem," he said.

"I'm gonna pay you back.  For all of it, I swear," he said.

Orli nodded and didn't believe a word.  "Okay Lij," he said.

"So, were you at the bar all night?"

"No," he said.

"You met up with that trick again, didn't you?  The one you spent the night
with?"

Orli passed the joint back.  He closed his eyes, wrapped his arms tightly
around himself.  "Yeah," he said.

"He still paying you $200 a fuck?"

"Yeah," he said, not wanting to say that now Viggo was paying him $200 *not*
to fuck.

"Sweet," Elijah said.

"Yeah," Orli said.

*******

Viggo parked the car in the driveway and headed up the front steps.  All he
could think about was Orlando and how he had to see him again.  Because
Viggo realized it now.  He didn't just like him.  He'd gone and fallen in
love with the kid.  He didn't know how that had happened, but wasn't really
interested in questioning it.  Viggo unlocked the door and stepped inside.
He flipped on the light.

"Welcome home Viggo," Christine said, looking up from the hardcover book she
was reading.

Viggo's heart stopped.  "Chris, what the fuck are you doing home?  You said
you were leaving Arizona tomorrow."

"Well there was really no point staying another day so I caught the next
available flight.  Imagine my surprise when I came home to an empty house,"
she said.

"I'm sorry...if you would've called I could've picked you up at the
airport," he said.

"I wanted to surprise you," she said.  "I guess it worked."

"Yeah," he said.

She got up off the sofa, came over to him.  "It's almost three a.m.  Where
were you?"

"I went out for a beer after we spoke.  I had skipped dinner so I went for a
bite to eat and then caught a movie," he said, telling as much truth as
possible.  He hated lying.

"Oh.  I was worried," she said, not really sounding like she meant it.

"I'm sorry Chris," he said.

"It's okay.  Don't I get a welcome home kiss?" she asked.

He smiled weakly and leaned in, giving her a soft, perfunctory kiss.
"Welcome home Chris," he said.

She slipped her arms around his waist.  "I missed you," she said.  "Did you
miss me?"

"It was lonely around here without you," he said.  Another true statement.
He was lonely in the house.

"Ohh, my poor Viggo," she said.  "Let's go upstairs, hmm?  I'll take all
that loneliness away."  She kissed him again, harder this time, but devoid
of passion.  She then let go of him and went up the stairs.

Viggo's heart was pounding.  Did she want to fuck again all of a sudden?
What on God's earth had happened in Arizona to bring this about?

"Viggo!" she called.

"Coming Chris," he said, trudging up the steps as if he was a prisoner on
the way to his execution.


Part 11:

Elijah's giggling woke Orlando up.  He stretched his incredibly sore body
out.  Sleeping on this futon just wasn't good for his back.  He sat up,
stretching some more.  He wished it were just the futon that was to blame
for how sore he felt.  Fucking Max.  Or rather, Max fucking him.  It
happened ever single time he showed up at Barfly over the last two weeks,
Max taking him into his office and Orli letting him fuck him, just so he
could keep coming to the bar to look for tricks.

But that was the kicker.  Orli wasn't looking for tricks at Barfly.  He was
looking for one trick.  Orli hadn't seen Viggo since the disastrous movie
incident when he wound up sobbing against Viggo in the parking lot of the
theater.  Orli figured he must've completely turned Viggo off with his
childish antics.  Viggo wanted a hot young man to fuck; he didn't need
someone crying on his shoulder.

But Viggo had said he liked him.  And Orlando had to admit that he liked
Viggo too.  If Orli were being honest he would have admitted to himself that
he more than liked Viggo.  His heart ached for Viggo's tenderness.  There
was something so gentle about everything Viggo did.  From the way he spoke,
to the way he kissed. And all Orlando wanted to do was crawl into Viggo's
arms and let Viggo take care of him.  But Orli had blown it.  He'd probably
never see Viggo again.  And that, more than the constant abuse from Max,
made him want to crawl under the covers and start sobbing all over again.

Orli forced himself to get out of bed.  He looked over to where Elijah was
still giggling, curled up on the mattress against Dom.  They'd moved the
television over there and were watching it with the volume very low so as
not to disturb Orli.  Orli watched as Dom was softly kissing the side of
Elijah's neck.  He felt nauseous seeing that.  But to his dismay the nausea
was mixed with just a dash of jealousy.  "Hey guys," Orli said finally.

Elijah looked up at his friend.  "Afternoon Orli," he said.

"You look like shit," Dom said.

"Thanks," Orli said, running his fingers through his hair.  The curls felt
greasy.  He hadn't washed his hair in a few days.  He pulled his t-shirt off
and tossed it onto the futon.  "I'm taking a shower.  Are you two still
going to the clinic today?"

"Yeah, in like ten minutes...gotta get more antibiotics," Elijah said.

"Well don't forget to lock the fucking door, yeah?" he said, turning his
back to them and walking slowly into the bathroom.

Dom and Elijah watched him go.  "Shit, those bruises keep getting worse..."
Elijah said, having seen older, yellow-greenish colored bruises along with
fresher purplish ones peeking out from beneath Orli's boxers on his hips.
There were also bruises on Orli's forearms and his lower back.

"There's new ones almost everyday these last two weeks...  Have you noticed
how quiet he's gotten?  Who do you think is doing that to him?  Maybe that
new trick?"  Dom said.

"I don't know...  Orli said the guy was pretty nice," Elijah said.

"That's what he said at first.  Then he stopped talking about him
altogether."

"Two hundred dollars a fuck is worth a few bruises," he said.

"Yeah..." Dom said.  "Should we ask Orli what's going on?"

"He won't tell us anyway, you know how he gets about this kind of shit,"
Elijah said.

"Yeah..."

"We better get going," Lij said.  He got off of the mattress and pulled his
jeans and shirt on.  "Come on Dom, get dressed, I want to get this over
with."  Elijah lit a cigarette and watched Dom start getting dressed.  There
was a knock on the door.  'Who the fuck could that be?"  Lij asked as he
walked over to the door.  He looked through the peephole, frowned.

"Is it the landlord?"

"No, it's some guy."

"A cop?"

"I don't know.  Who's there?"  Elijah asked.

"I'm here to see Orlando," the voice on the other side of the door said.

"Are you a cop?"  Elijah asked.

"No...I'm a-a friend," he said.

Elijah opened the door.  He looked up at the guy.  "What do you want with
Orli?"

Viggo looked into the Elijah's huge luminous blue eyes.  "Just to see if
he's okay...is he here?"

"Maybe," Elijah said.  "Are you sure you're not a cop?"

"Yes," Viggo said.

Orlando came out of the bathroom with a dark towel around his slim waist.
He saw Elijah standing by the door in front of Viggo.  "Viggo?" he said,
shocked.

"You know this guy Orli?" Elijah said, turning around.

"Yeah...what are you doing here Viggo?" he asked, coming a little closer.

"I've been worried about you," Viggo said.

Elijah looked from Orli to Viggo; saw how their eyes were locked in some
sort of silent communication.  Orli looked like he was shaking.  He looked
truly rattled and Elijah couldn't remember ever seeing him like this.  Lij
glanced at his watch.  "Shit, we're gonna be late..." he said.  He wasn't
sure he wanted to leave Orli alone with this guy.

"You guys go on, I'll be fine.  Viggo won't be staying long," Orli said,
somehow keeping his voice even.

"You sure Orli?  We can hang here for a bit longer," Dom said.  He'd
actually heard Orlando muttering "Viggo" in his sleep and wondered what the
fuck it meant.  Now he knew.  This was Orli's rich trick.  And Dom was
convinced he was responsible for all those ugly bruises on his friend's
body.

"Go," Orli said.

"All right," Dom said.  "See you later Orli."  Dom kissed Orli's cheek as he
moved past him and then glared at Viggo before he went out the door.

"See you later man," Elijah said and followed Dom.

"Well come inside already," Orli said.  Viggo took a few steps and came into
the apartment.  Orli shut the door and locked it.  "What the fuck are you
doing here?  Stalking me?" he said, trying to muster some anger and ignore
his slamming heart and the twist of pleasure that he felt in his belly
caused by seeing Viggo again.

"I was worried about you.  You were upset the last time I saw you and I
haven't been able to come to the bar so..."  Viggo's eyes drifted down
Orli's body.  He saw all of the new and old marks on his olive skin.

Orli felt something inside of him relax.  "I...thought you didn't come to
the bar because you didn't want to see me," he said softly.

Viggo was stunned at the raw, honest, exposed tone of Orli's voice.
Something was wrong with the kid; Viggo saw it in his warm brown eyes.  "My
wife was waiting for me when I got home that night.  She's been on my case
constantly...there was no way I could go out without raising her suspicions.
Are you okay?  Who hurt you?" he said.

Orli looked down at his body, saw the bruises peeking out.  "It's nothing,"
he said, feeling his cheeks color.  He grabbed a pair of track pants off the
end of the futon and pulled them on.  He took his discarded t-shirt and slid
that on too.  "I thought your wife more or less left you alone.  Why's she
on your case?"

"I don't know.  She's been acting strangely since she returned from Arizona.
She wanted me to fuck her that night," he said, laughing a little as if it
was an absurd suggestion.

Orli felt a twinge in his gut.  That wasn't jealousy again was it?  What the
fuck did he have to be jealous about?  He picked up his jeans that he'd left
on the floor from last night.  The pack of cigarettes in his pocket was
empty.  "Do you...could I get a cigarette?"

"Sure," Viggo said.  He took his pack out and held one out for Orli, who
took it and lit it with his own lighter.

Orli sat on the unmade futon.  "So how did that go?"

"What?"  Viggo asked, sitting a couple of feet away.

"With your wife.  Did you give her a good, solid shagging?"

"No.  I couldn't..."  Viggo blushed.

Orli laughed a little.  "You couldn't get it up for her?" he said, laughing
a little louder.  Viggo's blush deepened.  "I'm sorry Viggo...its
just...shit, we both know you have no problem getting it up."

Viggo laughed a little too.  "Well it isn't like I could tell her that.  She
dragged me to the doctor.  She was convinced I have a physical problem."

"And was she horrified to find out that its not you, its her?"  Orli asked.

"She doesn't think its her.  She's gotten very suspicious though...watches
my every move," he said.  "That's why I came over here on my lunch hour."
Viggo reached over and touched Orli's hand.  "I haven't been able to stop
thinking about you."

"Well you should," Orli said.  He didn't pull his hand away, just looked
down at their hands.  Viggo's was slightly larger and held his lightly.

"I don't want to.  And I don't think you want me to either," Viggo said.
Viggo waited for Orlando to respond but the young Brit remained silent.
"Tell me who hurt you," he said softly.

"Which time?"  Orli asked, his voice choked with emotion that he was
fiercely trying to hold back.

Viggo withdrew his hand from Orli's and ran the tip of his finger lightly
against one of the older, yellowish bruises on Orli's arm.  "This time," he
said.

Orli shut his eyes.  "Max.  He owns Barfly.  Let's me come there a few
nights a week.  He used to just let me be as long as I was discreet.  But
lately...he's been exacting payment from me.  I let him fuck me and he let's
me keep coming there.  He's really big...tall I mean, and built.  He likes
it rough...likes to hear me cry out..."

"Why don't you just stop going there?"

"'Cause it's easier to put up with Max than it is to walk the boulevard or
go to these shit holes that Lij and Dom frequent," he said.  "And I..."

"You what?"

"Was hoping to see you," Orli admitted.

Viggo cringed.  That made this partially his fault.  "I'm sorry..."

"You don't have to apologize for everything.  I think we should stop this
Viggo," he said.  "It's bad for you...bad for me..."

"I started feeling alive again when I met you.  How can that be bad?" he
asked, stroking Orli's damp curls.

"Fine, it's fucking fabulous for you.  But I've been coming apart bit by bit
since the day I met you," he said.

"Why?"

"I don't know!  You just...you fuck with my mind!  You're so bloody nice to
me.  You act like you care...and I don't need that."

"Everyone needs that," he said, again running his hand over the back of
Orli's head, feeling the curls between his fingers.

"Not me.  Makes me weak...makes me want to trust you...and then I get hurt."

"I won't hurt you.  I know you have no good reason to believe me.  But it's
the truth," he said.

Orli turned to look into Viggo's eyes.  "You asked about the scar on my back
that first night, remember?"  Viggo nodded.  "And I told you my boyfriend
was high and pushed me out a window.  He was really sorry.  And he
apologized profusely, promised to make it up to me if I'd trust him again.
So I did, I loved him and I needed him so I gave him another chance.  And it
was good for a while after that.  He got clean and took care of me and I
felt safe and loved...  I started going to drama school, life was really
good.  And then he got a job here.  And three months later I was turned out
onto the streets, hungry, scared, and alone.  And I feel it happening with
you Viggo...I feel myself starting to need you..."

Viggo gently took Orlando into his arms.  He could feel the younger man's
body shivering.  Orli buried his face against Viggo's shoulder and Viggo
could feel his tears wetting the shirt.  Viggo stoked his back lightly,
afraid that any false moves would frighten Orli off.  Orlando slipped his
arms around Viggo suddenly, holding on tight.  Viggo held onto Orlando for
what seemed like forever and would've been glad to continue holding him as
long as the young man needed him to but Viggo caught a glimpse of the time
on a clock on the wall.  "Shit," he muttered to himself.  Orli stiffened in
his arms and pulled away.

"What is it?"  Orli asked, wiping at his eyes.

"Nothing.  It's just...I should get back to the office...but its okay, I can
just call in and tell them--" As Viggo pulled his cellular phone out Orli
caught hold of his hand.

"Don't.  You should go," he said.

"I don't want to leave you like this," he said.

"I'll be all right..."  Orli stood.  "I don't want to cause any more
trouble."

"You're not.  But if I go now I want to see you tonight," Viggo said,
standing.

"Your wife..."

"I'll think of something.  Can I come over here and pick you up?  We can go
somewhere..."

"Clean?  Safe?"  Orli said.

"Quiet," Viggo said.

"Okay," Orli said.  "What time?"

"Umm, eight.  Is that good?"

Orli nodded.  He walked over to the door, opened it up.  "I'll be downstairs
at eight," he said.

"Okay," Viggo said.  He paused before Orlando, let his fingertips brush
against his face, and ran his thumb along his lower lip.  He leaned in and
pressed a light kiss to his mouth.  To his surprise Orli caught his head in
his hands and held him there, deepening the kiss.

"Bye Viggo," he said, finally releasing the older man from the kiss.

"Bye," Viggo said, smiled softly and left.

Orli shut the door.  He turned around and leaned heavily against it.  What
the hell had he done?  Good God, he was utterly fucked.


Part 12:

Orlando was standing in front of the small mirror above the sink in the
bathroom.  He ran a comb through his dark curls, forcing the unruly mass
into some semblance of order.  The hand that held the comb was trembling.
"Fuck," Orli said, dropping it into the sink.  It seemed like all he was
capable of lately was shaking and crying.  He raked his fingers through his
hair now, trying that tactic to make his curly locks behave.

He gave up finally; his hair just wasn't going to cooperate.  He took a step
back and looked at himself.  He narrowed his eyes and tried to see what
Viggo saw.  Orlando understood why men lusted after him.  He didn't
understand why Viggo looked at him with such sweet, untainted warmth.  Orli
heard the front door open and closed his eyes.  Fuck.  He was hoping that he
would get out of the apartment without having to see Dom and Lij.  Taking a
deep breath he left the bathroom.

Dom and Lij each had a bag of groceries that they were unloading at the tiny
kitchen table.  "Orli, you're home," Lij said.

"Yeah...what's all this?" he asked.  He pulled a bag of chips out and tore
it open.  His stomach growled as the smell hit his nose.  He immediately dug
in.

"It's called food," Elijah said.  Dom laughed.

"Fuck you," Orli said, with no malice.  "Where'd you get the money to buy
all this?"

"Blew a guy I met in the clinic waiting room.  He was celebrating being
negative," Lij said.

Orli shook his head.  What a way to celebrate that news.  "What about the
two of you?  What'd the doc say?"

"Just have to finish up this round of antibiotics and we'll be good as new,"
Dom said, coming over and taking Orli's chips from him.  "So what'd you do
today mate?"

"Nothing," he said.  He'd sat in the apartment all day, thinking about
Viggo, wondering what tonight would be like.

"What did that guy want?"  Elijah asked.

"Viggo?  He just wanted to see me," he said.

"He's that trick you've been spending all that time with?"  Dom said.  "The
one who pays you double?"

Orli frowned.  He didn't want to talk about Viggo with them.  They wouldn't
understand.  Fuck, he didn't understand.  "Yeah," Orli said.  He looked up
at the clock.  It was eight already.  He really ought to get downstairs.  "I
have to go guys."  He grabbed his wallet and picked up a strip of condoms,
shoving both into his pocket.

"Isn't it too early to hit the bar?"  Dom asked.

"Yeah Orli.  It's only eight.  We got some tofu and shit for you.  Have some
food first," Elijah said.

"Thanks Lij, but I can't," he said.

"You're meeting Viggo, aren't you?"  Dom said.

"What if I am?  What's it to you?" he asked.

"We know Orli," Lij said.

"You know?"  Orli asked, thinking there was no fucking way they knew
anything.  He was harder, stronger than either one of them and there was
just no way they could have figured out that Orli was having feelings for
Viggo.

"This guy's been roughing you up.  That's where all those bruises are from,
aren't they?"  Dom said.

Orli laughed.  "You're both fucking nuts.  Viggo hasn't done anything like
that to me.  He wouldn't," Orli said.

"Since when do you defend tricks Orli?"  Lij said.  He remembered when he
got to L.A nine months ago just off the bus from Cedar Rapids and stupidly
started hustling, offering himself up to any guy that crossed his path.
He'd met Orli and Dom and they'd taught him the ins and outs, taught him how
not to wind up dead.  But it was Orli that pounded the primary lesson about
tricks into Lij's head.  You never trust them because they'd as soon
strangle you as fuck you.

"I'm not defending him.  It's a simple fact.  Viggo isn't responsible for
the bruises.  If you must know, it's Max.  Its part of our new arrangement
so that I get to keep working the bar.  Now, if I've answered your
questions, I'm leaving."

Dom grabbed hold of Orli's arm.  "Then what is the deal with this Viggo?
What was he doing coming over to where you live?  Wasn't it you who flipped
out when Lij started bringing tricks over here?"

"I wouldn't worry about Viggo breaking in here to steal our shitty
television if I were you," he said, yanking his arm out of Dom's grip.

"That's not the point Orli," Elijah said.

"This is unreal.  Me getting lectured by *you*.  Who paid the rent this
month?  Who fucking stayed out 'til three, four in the morning to make extra
money to cover your part of the rent?  Who is it that Vince likes to fuck so
that he doesn't come and kill your arse for your drug debts Lij?"

"We're just worried about you Orli.  You haven't been yourself lately," Dom
said.

"Good.  I don't want to be myself," he said.  He walked over to the
groceries on the table and stuffed a few items into the emptied bag.

"What are you doing with that?"  Elijah asked.

"None of our fucking business Lij.  Just take it out of the money you owe me
that you'll never pay me back anyway, yeah?"  Orli grabbed his keys and the
bag and headed out of the apartment.  He looked around and didn't see
Viggo's car.  "Shit," he said.  The food he'd taken was for Freddy and he
didn't see him either.  "Fuck," Orli said.  He sat down on the stoop and
waited.  The minutes ticked by and he wondered why he was waiting.  The
night was wasting away and he really needed to make some money.  He didn't
have time for this.

***********

It was already after eight and Viggo was still in his house.  Christine had
him cornered.  As soon as he'd told her that he wanted to go out for a
little while to grab a beer, she'd freaked.  All of a sudden she was
screaming at him, bringing up everything that had been festering between
them for years.  Viggo sat there, listening to her yelling at him and found
himself unable to fight back.

"I want us to see a counselor," she said finally, after ending another
tirade about his failings as a husband.

He looked up at her then.  He'd been convinced that all of this shouting and
venting was going to lead to her telling him they should get a divorce.  "A
counselor?"

"Yes Viggo.  We can't go on like this," she said.

They'd been going on like this for years.  He didn't know what had changed
to make her suddenly want to see a counselor.  "I don't know Chris..."  He
was worried about what would come out in counseling.  It wasn't the fact
that he was gay that he was afraid of revealing.  Yes, he'd gone to a great
deal of effort to hide that from her, from himself even.  But him being gay
would certainly end their marriage, and that might be one reason, he
thought, that he should just tell her.

But all his life Viggo had held back, had tried not to rock the boat.  He
preferred to just go along with life, too afraid of failing to try anything
new.  The things he wanted, the things he dreamed of seemed too difficult to
get.  The idea of reaching out and grabbing hold of one of his dreams, of
having it in his hand only for it to slip away was too devastating to
imagine.  It was easier to never know what he was missing than to deal with
the disappointment that came with trying and failing.

"We have to do something Viggo.  I can't live like this anymore," she said.
"I'm making us an appointment."

"What if this counselor...doesn't tell you what you want to hear?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"What if we realize...that we don't have a marriage worth saving?"

"I don't know Viggo.  But anything will be better than this," she said.

He wondered if she would think the same thing after counseling.  "Fine.
Make the appointment.  I'm going out now."  He headed for the door.

'Viggo?"

He turned.  "Yeah?"

"Are you seeing another woman?"

"No," he said and exited through the front door.  He got in his sedan and
took several calming breaths, realizing his heart was pounding and his hands
were shaking.  He started the car and saw the time on the dashboard.  Almost
twenty after eight.  "Fuck," he said, pulling the car out of the driveway
and driving as fast as possible down to West Hollywood.  He hit some traffic
and it was nearly nine by the time he parked the car in front of Orli's
building.

"Fuck!"  He was abominably late and Orlando wasn't downstairs waiting for
him.  No wonder, Orli probably thought Viggo stood him up.

Viggo got out of the car, intent on going up to the apartment and seeing if
Orli was there.  But the more likely scenario was that Orli had decided to
go make some money rather than waste his time waiting for him.  As Viggo got
out of the car he happened to notice someone on the other side of the
street, handing a brown bag to a homeless man.  Viggo recognized that it was
Orlando.  He watched as Orli dug into his pocket and then handed some cash
to the man.  Finally Orli crossed the street.  He stopped when he saw Viggo
standing by his car.

"You're late," Orli said.

"I'm sorry...what was that about?" he asked, nodding at the other side of
the street.

"Just brought some food for Freddy, gave him a few dollars," he said.

"Freddy?"

"Yeah, the guy lying on the street over there?  They have names you know,
I'm sure you rich suburbanites would rather pretend they weren't real
people, just think of them as 'the homeless' that way you don't feel so bad
walking by and doing nothing day after day," he said.

"You're mad at me because I'm late," Viggo said.

"I don't give a fuck that you're late!" he said, shouting.  He couldn't keep
his voice under control, couldn't feign indifference anymore.

"Okay...but I am sorry.  My wife started in on me...where did you come from?
I didn't see you by your building."

"I've been waiting down here since eight Viggo.  Finally gave up and decided
to go get some cigarettes at the store down there before I headed out for
the night.  But then I looked down the block and saw Freddy and I had this
food for him so I ran back down here."

"Guess I'm lucky you have such a good heart...its very generous of you,
giving him money and food when you don't have enough of either for
yourself."

"I can take care of myself, he can't."  Orli said, shrugging.

"Well, I still want to take you somewhere, if you're still up for it," Viggo
said.

"I'm up for anything," he said.

"How about dinner?"

Orli shook his head.  "Why are you always trying to feed me?"

"Because you look like you've missed too many meals."  Viggo opened the
passenger side door.  "Get in."

Orli held Viggo's gaze for a moment and then slid into the car.  Viggo
joined him inside seconds later and started driving down the street.  'Where
are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet," Viggo answered

"So we can gaze into each other's eyes and share our deep, dark secrets?"
Orli said, cynically.

"Yeah, something like that."


Part 13:

Orlando had been almost completely silent since they had arrived at the
Omni. He was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, plate in front of him,
eating his vegetarian dinner slowly, thinking about how he should've know
that this was what Viggo meant when he said he was taking him somewhere
quiet. Sure, it was far nicer than the little rat hole of a motel room
they'd fucked in that first night. But it was still a rented room, with a
rented bed for Viggo to fuck his rented boy.

Viggo was drinking his beer, watching Orli eat his meal and wondering why
the young man looked so sad tonight. Not that he ever looked happy, per se.
But since they had arrived here Orlando had become deathly quiet and the
misery was evident in his soft brown eyes. "Orlando?" Viggo said, breaking
the silence.

Orli looked up from his plate. "What? Did you want to...you probably want
to just get started," he said. He picked his plate up from the bed and put
it on the cart. He came over to Viggo who was sitting on a big easy chair
in the corner. Orli was able to kneel in the small space between Viggo's
spread legs. He began unbuttoning Viggo's shirt.

Viggo caught Orli's hands in his. "What are you doing?"

"Getting down to business," he said, leaning in and kissing the side of
Viggo's throat. He slid his lips downward, against the clavicle, kissing
the exposed flesh at the top of Viggo's chest.

Viggo let himself enjoy the sweet feel of Orli's mouth on his skin for a
moment. "Stop," he said, letting Orli's hands go and pushing gently to
force him to back off.

Orli stopped his kisses and looked into Viggo's pale eyes. "Why?"

"Just...finish your dinner before it gets cold," he said.

Orli frowned as he got off of the chair. "I don't understand you Viggo.
You bring me to a hotel and you don't want to fuck me?"

"I wanted us to go somewhere quiet, where we could be alone. I couldn't
think of anyplace else. I didn't mean for you to think that I brought you
here to fuck you," he said. "But what else would you think...shit, I'm such
a fucking idiot..."

"It's okay Viggo," Orli said. "I mean, you've been extremely nice to me
and...and its okay if you want to fuck me. You should get something for all
your trouble."

Viggo got off of the chair. He approached Orli slowly. He slid his hand
behind his neck, stroked his jaw line with his thumb. "I want to talk to
you. I want to know more about you. That's what I want for my trouble.
Anything else..." his voice drifted off, his thumb now dragging over Orli's
soft lips. "Is up to you."

Orli shut his eyes and just enjoyed the feel of Viggo's fingers moving
against his flesh. He opened his eyes. "Up to me?" he asked, his soft
voice quivering. Viggo was saying that he had the power to choose what
happened between them tonight. It was an alien concept to him.

"Yes, whatever you want...or don't want. Okay?"

"If I tell you about me...will you tell me about yourself also?" he asked.

Viggo smiled faintly. "Sure." Viggo moved the plate from the cart back
onto the bed. "Finish eating," he said.

Orli nodded and sat back down before the plate. Viggo sat on the bed too,
up against the headboard. "How come you didn't order any food?" Orli
asked, beginning to attack the roasted vegetables in earnest now, feeling
more at ease.

"I had dinner with Christine," he said.

"Oh. You fought?"

"No. A fight requires two participants. She screamed, I listened to it,"
he said, swallowing more beer.

"What was she upset about?" Orli was going to keep bombarding Viggo with
questions as long as he could in order to forestall having to talk about
himself.

"Everything. She brought up things that I guess have been bothering her for
a long time. That we don't communicate, that there's no passion between us.
It's strange though...its almost as if she feels guilty about something.
Now she wants to go see a marriage counselor."

"Is that what you want?" Orli asked.

"I...I don't know," he said.

"Do you love her?"

Viggo closed his eyes. Shit, talking to Orli about this was painful.
"No...I don't know that I ever did but...we did get along. I did really
like her. I know what I said, that she's cold...and she is, but she wasn't
always. It's my fault probably..."

Orli narrowed his eyes. "Your fault she's cold? How?"

"I haven't been a good husband...I guess I've been cold towards her too..."
he said.

"You're gay Viggo, its not your fault that you can't feel things for a
woman," Orli said.

"No...but its my fault for not having enough of a backbone to tell her the
truth...its my fault that I'm so afraid of change that I stay in a miserable
marriage," he said, closing his eyes, raking his fingers through his hair.
Viggo was stunned when he felt warm lips pressing against his. He opened
his eyes just as Orli ended the all too brief kiss. "What was that for?"

Orli let his fingers slide over Viggo's cheek. "You're a nice man Viggo.
You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," he said.

Viggo reached his hand out, let the tips of his fingers brush against Orli's
lips. "You're lips are trembling..."

"I haven't..." Orli began. The last time he was the one who initiated a
kiss was when he was back in London. "What are you doing to me Viggo?"
Orli asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'm not doing anything," Viggo replied. He badly wanted to kiss Orlando
again; his soft, inviting mouth was so close. But Viggo wasn't going to.
He wasn't about to do anything to lose whatever minute amount of trust he'd
gained.

"Yes you are...you make me want to feel things. To tell you things...as if
talking about my pathetic life will make it better, make it hurt less..."

"Maybe it will...or maybe...I can take you in my arms and give you a little
bit of comfort," he said.

Orli moved down to the end of the bed, put the plate on the cart again. He
then climbed back up to Viggo. "Can you...hold me now? Before I start
talking...that way when I start to come apart..." Orli looked at Viggo with
pleading, desperate eyes.

Viggo drew Orlando against him. Orli slipped his arms around Viggo's torso,
clinging fiercely to the older man. Viggo stroked Orlando's back, felt his
body trembling against him. "If you don't feel like talking its okay,"
Viggo said softly. The last thing he wanted was for Orlando to have a
complete breakdown and that's where he seemed headed.

Orli drew in a deep breath. "I-I don't know where to start," Orlando said.
His head rested against Viggo's chest, over his heart. The steady rhythm
was soothing and he found himself drawing closer to Viggo.

"Do you want to tell me about your father?" Viggo asked.

"I don't remember him all that well. Impressions mostly. Or feelings. I
remember that things were good, I felt safe...like your supposed to feel
when you're a child. And after he died I never felt that way again. Living
with my mum and her on again, off again boyfriend...it was like-you know how
in movies, action movies, you see the hero running across a rickety bridge?
And the planks are giving way under his feet and he's racing to keep one
step ahead so that he doesn't plummet to his death? That's what it was
like."

Viggo stroked Orli's soft curls. "Sounds awful," he said gently.

"It was what it was. I survived it. My sister got out as soon as she could
and that left me alone to bear the brunt of my mum's indifference and her
boyfriend's violence. Then I met Michael."

"The guy you came here with," Viggo said.

"Yeah. He...no one had ever made me feel the way he did. He was my
first...my first everything," Orlando remembered how it hurt, that first
time. How it hurt almost every time with Michael. But he got used to it.
And Michael always made sure Orli came. And after he'd let Orli curl up in
his arms, and Orli felt some measure of security.

Orlando wasn't stupid; he knew sex didn't hurt for everyone. It was just
that he had never had a good experience with it, not even with Michael, the
man he thought he'd loved. These days, when he fucked for money, he mostly
felt nothing more than mild discomfort, and sometimes he just felt numb
inside.

"You loved him?" Viggo asked.

"Yeah...I did. He was good to me at first. And it was better than living
at home. But I soon found out I wasn't the only one. He'd fuck anything
that moved, and he did...he brought them all home. Men, women, and I just
overlooked it. He said his heart was mine and it was just sex with those
other people. And I was sixteen, and I really didn't have any other
options. He said I could do it too. That I could fuck anyone else I wanted
to. But I couldn't. I had this ridiculous notion that if you loved someone
you shouldn't let anyone else touch you." Orli laughed a little, a bitter,
defeated laugh. "Strange, isn't it? I used to think that I'd never let
anyone I didn't love fuck me. And look what I've become."

"How did you wind up...?"

Orli pulled out of Viggo's arms, looking into his pale blue eyes now.
"Selling my body?" Orli shrugged. "Michael found a new toy...that's all I
ever was to him I suppose. He kicked me out and I didn't know what to do.
I had nowhere to go. No money. I slept in a park a few nights, I was
starving...and I was scared. And then this guy came up to me and out of the
blue offered me twenty dollars to suck his dick. I was about to run from
him. It was such an insane thing to be asking...I thought what sort of
person would ask a total stranger that? But I...was so hungry and I
thought, what the hell, you know? I could do it and then get some food,
maybe my head would clear up, and I could figure out what to do."

"I got sick afterwards. But I had money. And I spent it all in ten minutes
on food and smokes," he laughed. "And I still didn't have a place to stay.
So I stayed in the park. Turned out that being asked to blow that guy
wasn't a random occurrence. Hustlers frequented the place. It was a matter
of logic. I needed the money, they offered it to me. Just blowjobs at
first. Twenty dollars each. This lasted a few weeks. I met Dominic
there... Shocking to have met another Englishman hustling in Los Angeles.
His parents had moved here when he was a child. They kicked him out when he
told them he was queer.

"Anyway...Dom told me there were better places to find tricks. He also told
me I could make a lot more money if I was willing to do more than suck a guy
off. The second guy I ever let fuck me was a trick. I made fifty dollars.
I cried so hard afterwards. Dom took me back to his flat. I hadn't slept
in a bed in months. It got easier and easier after that. And I never cried
again."

Viggo reached out, caressed Orli's face. "Its amazing you've survived,"
Viggo said.

"Have I? I feel dead most of the time. I don't let myself feel things. Is
that surviving? I suppose it is...but its not living, is it?" Orli asked.
"Sometimes...I just wish I could..." he shook his head, the tears brimming
in his warm brown eyes, wetting his thick lashes.

"What?" Viggo asked. "What do you wish?"

Orli moved in close. He put his hands on the sides of Viggo's face. "I
wish I could feel," he whispered. Orli brought his trembling lips against
Viggo's. He moved his lips slowly, kept the pressure light.

Carefully Viggo slid his arms around Orlando. He followed Orli's lead,
letting the kiss remain gentle and unhurried. A soft whimper came from
Orli's mouth; Viggo slid his hands along his spine. Orli's mouth suddenly
became urgent, he parted his lips, tangled his fingers in Viggo's hair.
Gently Viggo withdrew his lips, pulling back to look into Or