Bruiser was a schoolboy ready for a hot date. He had showered, primped and preened, and now reeked of cologne. He got there half an hour early, so he wandered around. He was a bit unnerved by Gay Street's night life. He passed three Adult/Bondage Shops, Four Wig Shops, a couple dozen massage places, Twelve Tatto and Piercing Parlors, a Biker Club, a Tranny Club, and quite a few bars and shops that defied his vocabulary. It was 8:02 pm when he got back to the spot where he was supposed to meet Chad.
There was no sign of his date. A big woman/man dressed as a nun with heavy makeup hit on him with the line, "Hello, sailor." A couple men dressed in leather motorcycle gear also tried to pick him up. Another passerby pinched his ass. He was flustered, nervous and sweating like a pig in his best clothes. He shoved his hands in his pants' pockets. His big fingers wiggled in seas of condom packets. He had bought the 1000 pack, and shoved fistfuls into each pocket. This was his first real date with a guy. He couldn't believe Chad would stand him up.
Maybe something happened at the spa? A chemical reaction? Overheating? Slip and fall? His mind raced.
Another guy put his arm across William's shoulders and tried to guide him away.
"No. I'm waiting for somebody," William said standing firmly in place.
"Hey, I'm somebody kid," the muscled black haired 40 something guy said.
"No. I really am meeting somebody. He had an appointment at that spa, and told me to meet him here at 8 PM."
"That spa!" scoffed the man. "You been played kid. That spa is a front or something. I tried going there a couple times, but they don't take walk ins. So I tried to make an appointment. No listed phone or website that I could find. Stopped by and asked for their number, told to go away and stop bothering them. There used to be a cafe here, I sat here all Friday one night with my date. No one went in or out. I've talked to my buds and nobody's ever gone there or knows anyone who's gone there. It's gotta be a front, and whoever told you otherwise-"
"I saw him go in just a few hours ago," William said heatedly. If the spa wasn't really a spa, what might they have done to his sweet Chad. He dashed across the street and climbed the steps and rang the bell.
The muscle boy was tempted to go on, but he was worried about the emotional big kid, so he followed. He was several feet away, but he heard the exchange.
"We're closed," said the smarmy guy who opened the door, and started to close it.
"I'm here to pick up Chad!" William exclaimed.
The doorman stopped.
"You?" he asked, "You've been standing across the street for a while?"
"Yeah. Well, it's my first time, I wanted to be early. You know do it right. Besides I was told to pick Chad up across the street at 8 PM and it's like 8:20," exasperation was apparent in his tone.
"We weren't expecting anyone until 9 PM, and you're not the usual guy. And we never deliver packages across the street. Package Pickup is in the alley," he said, "But we did promise the package would be ready by 7:30 and he is."
"Package? Are you talking about Chad?" William was confused and getting angry.
"This really is your first time, isn't it?" scoffed the man.
"Yeah, what of it?" William demanded.
He hadn't notice the muscle guy walk by slowly, and stop to slowly light a cigarette just past the entrance, but well within earshot.
"You better come in," the doorman said, "and next time you take a job, you better know where the pickup entrance is, and that the guys we workover are called packages," he sighed and opened the door for William to enter.
"Worked over?" William said as he went through the door, fisting his left hand and grabbing the door man's collar.
"Huh? Easy, kid. It's just an expression, don't get worked up, we haven't damaged the goods. Worked over means we processed the boy."
Click. The door closed, and the building soundproofing was such that the muscle man smoking outside heard nothing more.