How To Rape A Straight Guy by Sullivan, Michel (the reading list .TXT) 📕

The stupid fuck.  If he hadn’t said that, I’ve let it drop.  I been rousted by cops, before; it’s no big deal.  But let one call me a faggot?  I ain’t gonna let it go.

I watched him walk out the door an’ down the steps to the street, memorizin’ every movement of his body.  Even in his jeans an’ shirt, in the barely lit darkness, you could tell he was built.  Shit, his ass rocked as he walked, smooth an’ even, makin’ the jeans look like they were part of his skin.  The rest of him fit it.  Nice an’ trim yet solid.  Could’ve been a model for some fag underwear catalog or somethin’.

He got to the street, cast us back a dirty look an’ hopped into his unmarked car an’ drove away.  Then his little piggies followed him in their cruiser.  I turned to ol’ Wayne an’ said...no, I growled, “Man, he would’ve been fun.”

That’s when Lenny bolted for the bathroom an’ began praisin’ the porcelain gods.  It was funny, listenin’ to this guy who pushed an’ shoved for me to prove my shit, all but begged me to let him tape it an’ danced around like a kid under a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve when it was about to happen, suddenly hurlin’ his dinner because he’d almost got busted for soliciting.  Shit, hadn’t the fuck even considered that rape’s a felony?  Don’t matter if you drag a straight guy in off the street or give a back-page guy an invite home an’ do more to him than he bargained for -- you’re makin’ ‘em do what they don’t want to do.  Plain an’ simple.  What would he’ve done if we’d got busted for that?

That’s when I noticed Wayne had been watchin’ through the window as Shayes an’ his pigs left.  An’ he had this look on his face -- swear to God, he had murder in his eyes.

“Fucking pigs,” he said.  “They pulled this shit on me, before.  When I was walking through that park between Robertson and San Vicente, in West Hollywood.  A couple of sheriff’s boys, two racist skinhead punks, said I made a pass at them.  Like I’d be interested in a pair of ugly homophobic little pricks like them.  They arrested me.  No mere citation; a full-scale arrest.  Fingerprints.  Mug shot.  Overnight stay in jail.  Arraignment. Threatened me with prison.  Tried to make me sign a confession.  Everything!  Like this was Iran or China, but I wouldn’t give it to them.  I wouldn’t say a word.  I waited till I hired an attorney an’ we fought it, in court.  Hung the jury.  And that’s only because I’d never been arrested before in my life.  Not even any outstanding parking tickets on my record.  The D-A had nothing but those two little pigs, and my lawyer got them to contradict each other, right and left.  And three out of six people on that jury still believed that all a gay man wants to do is seduce a straight man.  Turn him into another faggot.  So there had to be at least a grain of truth to what those fucking little pigs said.  Motherfucking closet cases.  I’ve hated breeders, ever since.”

He moved back, lettin’ the curtain drop, still not lookin’ at me an’ gettin’ more an’ more pissed.  “My bet is, he gets off on it,” he said.  “Our Officer Shayes.  He gets to wag his dick in our faces then toss us in jail for merely suggesting we want it.  Then he goes home to his wife and says, ‘Honey, I had three men come on to me, today.  I could’ve gotten blowjobs right an’ left, so you’d better give me one.  Right now.  Careful with the teeth, this time.  Not that I know how a blow job’s supposed to be given, seeing as how I’ve never been touched by another man.’  My bet is, that’s how he gets himself up.  That’s how they all do, these plainclothes vice queens who see gay men as inevitable criminals.”

Fuckin’ Wayne, shit.  He was shootin’ off lightnin’ bolts with his words.  He was shakin’ from the piss rollin’ in his head.  It changed him completely.  Suddenly he wasn’t this fat assed faggot too scared to think about comin’ on to a guy like me without his buddy, Lenny.  Suddenly he was this hot-shot wrestler in the ring screamin’ for any other asshole anywhere to come face the poundin’ he was gonna give him.  He was like fuckin’ Tyson pumpin’ himself up for fifteen rounds.  I couldn’t fuckin’ believe the change.

Then he turned to me with this little snarl of a grin.  A grin that now looked about as mean as mean could get.  An’ he said, “If I was going to fuck a straight man and make him like it -- our Officer Shayes, he’s the one I’d choose.  He’d be worth any kind of hell that’d follow.  Yes.  Most definitely.  Of course, that’s probably what he really wants, so it would make the bet moot.  Or would it?  After all, that’s exactly the kind of dick you and Lenny were chasing, wasn’t it?”

I didn’t get what he said, exactly, but I knew what he was gettin’ at.  It was plain as the numbers under my mug shot.  It was dreamland come to life for each an’ every one of us.  An’ it made me smile.  Wayne looked at me, sort of stunned, a bit wary.  But then he smiled right back at me.  An’ then we started laughin’, together.  Roarin’ with laughter.  All but rollin’ on the floor, knowin’ full well what we were gonna do, next.

“Callin’ Officer Sha-ayes.”

You motherfucker.

Chapter Five

That night, that’s when everything stopped bein’ a co-production -- like what Lenny called it, once -- an’ started bein’ a full-scale war.  When Wayne took over, suddenly we’re makin’ serious battle plans.