second things second, and so on a so forth directly correlating with how many initial points i have. this blog will contain a plethora of different things with no real consistency. obviously in cohesion with the BOINKSHE magazine.
me:
him:
'friend':
'friend's mum:
(any other characters per chapter will be colour coded)
BOINKSHE
LIGHTER THIEF CHAPTER 1
- FICTION SO DON'T ASSUME ITS BASED ON ME OR ANYONE (ALTHOUGH OBVIOUSLY SOME PEOPLE ARE AN INSPIRATION) -
blake.
"have you got a lighter?" obviously i knew he did as he'd just given me the cigarette i needed lighting, also, i knew he did because id already observed the lighter shaped bulge in the left batty pocket of his trousers.
"fucking hell! do you want me to smoke it for you as well?" how predictable, hated people who said that. equally to people who asked what you was listening to when wearing earphones, however, less than people who took it upon themselves to actually reach hesitantly towards the other earphone dangling idly enough for you to be able to hear them say it.
"na I'm good thanks... thank you." id always been polite. a double thanks. once before receiving the lighter; with a fake smile and slight chuckle that endorsed the shit joke. another once after having used it and whilst handing it back. well "always been polite" isn't entirely true, once, aged about 9 i went over to my 'friends' house and when her mum, eventually, came home with chips, i was obviously usually used to double thanks by default, however this time for the first time i dipped my toe into the pool of immediate comfortability - as if she was also my mother. simply mirroring how 'friend' spoke to her mum.
"do you want chips?" mum asked
"ye..." 'friend' replied
"ye!" i replied although with more oomph and probably another fake smile. which would seem polite however, obviously not as polite as adding a s to the end and saying please. which i learnt when 'friends' mum told my guardian that i was rude and i wasn't welcome again. pretty funny because i didn't even want her chips and i certainly didn't care for adult chinese whispers about children who didn't say please. especially when said child was merely mirroring said parents child and ultimately still in the process of secondary socialisation (a term i learnt in the few weeks i attended sociology in college.)
anyway back to lighter dude. so there i was taking the first initial drags of this cig that definitely wasn't b&h dual and therefore not at all fully satisfying."where we going?" i enquired, for no reason other than to fill an awkward silence. i was already well aware the next forty five minutes or so would consist of some form of sexual favour in exchange for a three figure sum. closely followed by the blocking of a grindr contact (him) as soon as he was out of sight and i was back connected to wifi.
"theres this place just round the corner, should be quiet around this time" he replied, a little too enthusiastically for my liking, if anything this just made him seem perverted, although that was clearly a given by this point. he was at least old enough to be my dad, technically he only had to be around fifteen years older for this to be true, however, id say he was probably more about seventeen years older to be precise. i wasn't gonna ask. he's probably gonna ask me soon but ill probably only lie about it anyway so what does it matter. my age is on my profile to be fair; but unless he's already seen, guess he'll never know as i don't intend on him being able to find any trace of me after I've cum and received the payment for my services. first thing I'm gonna buy is definitely a deck of b&h dual. this piece of shit doesn't even have a menthol click.
"cool, are we walking? or do you drive?" doesn't look like he drives the weirdo "oh and by the way i need at least half the money upfront, this guy..."
"... i drive, but its literally not worth driving its... id say a three minute walk from here." first rule of interrupting me nob head is don't ignore the most important part of the sentence.
"okay, anyway need at least half the money before... because this guy once didn't even have any money and i had to box him afterwards... and steal his phone so..."
"... blimey, ye thats cool, you can have it all now. relax. I'm not exactly goi..." he just loved to interrupt me this guy. so i did him.
"perfect." in the same polite tone id say thank you. i tend to describe most things i say as polite. this 'perfect' in specific danced both over the threshold of stupidly confident and plain old arrogant. i felt i needed to assert some youthful dominance into this situation. throw in a dash of intimidation from the false story about having to assault and mug a previous client and i felt as though i was doing enough to be able to exclaim "I'm fine, i can look after myself!" to anyone who'd ever tell me to be careful in the future. "should we go then? got to take my friend some money after this so can't really be too long." i continued. "don't usually do this by the way, only when I'm in desperate need for money!" i rambled on, he probably would've perceived it as adolescent confidence or maybe even nervousness. in reality it was me taking control of the situation to become the dominant one. using my birth given charm and intelligence to manipulate the situation in my favour, as usual. saying the correct sentences to warrant the perfect questions that would ultimately allow me to either increase the amount he'd pay me; using a false story of how I'm debt ridden. or to at least create a pity party for him to feel as though he was the superior alpha male in this situation. as i play the poor me card perfectly.
"don't you want another drink? i suppose we could go now yeah, and why you so desperate for money? don't you work?" fucking three questions in one what you playing at fella?
"well i cant exactly do my job sat outside turtle bay now can i?" i had no intention to inform him that i was in fact very much employed, however just very flippant and careless with money. pair this with a slight obsession with narcotics and alcohol and that meant, regardless how many hours i worked id still always be in need of more money anyway. similarly, i had no intention of lingering with the glass of the drink id finished inside and brought out for no apparent reason, to the seating area outside, for my cigarette with my unusually unlikely date. who to the unaware public or untrained eye could be my tutor, psychiatric nurse or just a local library card distributor who asked me to join him for a drink after his shift. i did have the intention however, to reinforce the fact that what was about to occur was the only job that mattered at this specific time; especially that it was actually just a job and id gain little to no enjoyment from what he'd most definitely lust after in his mind for probably weeks to come. "and i just owe my mate a hundred pound that he borrowed me a few weeks ago."
"lets go then, you've finished your drink?" this guy was actually really getting on my nerves at this point. not quite sure why he's asking stupid questions when if he was to simply adjust his eyes from staring intently and expectantly at me he'd see that all that remained in my glass was the lemon wedge and the brown ice water, that if i wasn't with him id suck, for the freezing shot of refreshment that tastes exactly like what it was. extremely diluted coke remains. speaking of things that are getting on my nerves, this disgusting cig is getting thrown after another drag.
"yeah yeah, thanks again... what you doing tonight then?" at this point I'm not actually listening to a word he's saying yet still I'm hearing the replies. the questions i ask him are simply to build a rapport with my customer and this question specifically as something to say whilst i begin to stand up and vacate the vicinity of turtle fucking bay.
"you!" he smirked. i didn't, and i hope he felt immediately ashamed afterwards for sounding like such a sex pest. to be honest, i feel embarrassed for older men like him. clearly enough disposable income to indulge in younger company, for a few hours a week, every week. although it was the first time id ever clapped eyes on this chap, i was pretty certain i could predict a rough idea of what his life consisted of:
- he definitely doesn't have a car, he's lying about that! how do i know? they never have a car if they insist on meeting in a resturaunt on a tuesday evening.
- he did have a well paid job. or he'd at least always pretend, to us rent boys that he did. if for example he made thirty a year, he'd insist it was forty six. why? you'd have to ask him.
- he either rents an apartment, plagued with a lonely aura and a shit dog. OR. he lives with his partner and possibly (probably) children who he'd disguise (were i ever to enter) as his relatives, nephews or nieces. his young boy batty fetish would be his dirty little secret and theres no way ill experience him, in his home environment, until I've already got him whipped.
"thats unlikely! unless you're paying for the premium service..."
"you're funny! i was only kidding though, I'm probably just going to go to sleep. work in the morning"
"why?"
"why do i work? so i can..."
"...no, why am i funny?" correcting the imbecile.
"you just are?" typical creepy old man, amazed by the generational gap that meant my youthful assertiveness to him, was uncommon and i suppose refreshing?
"thanks." i smiled at him, showing every tooth. hoping he'd pay me more compliments so i could meet them with more obstacles to remind him that without his money, he wouldn't even be able to converse with a lad like me.
"my life's like that rihanna song at the moment..." i knew what was going to follow, i knew i was in for a cringe. the best option in this situation is to allow him to think he's funny and try to get this acquaintanceship over as quick as possible. "work, work, work, work, work, work, work!" followed by an overbearing laugh that i certainly didn't even consider participating in. all i could think about is that he said one 'work' too many!
"wow." the typical, say wow, make them think their previous action was so uncool, they apologise and ask "was it really that bad?" at which point id jokingly say yes and keep it moving. happened exactly as predicted. worst part about it, we were only about eight metres from the table we just left. by this point and I'm regretting not at least getting another drink out of him.
edited sentence structure and punctuation from last time if you read it before sunday 26th feb as well as added more. suppose it may aswell be the best it possibly can be or else whats the point.
once again not a fucking autobiographical situation. and theres to be many other chapter stories not just LIGHTER THIEF.
hope you enjoyed. LIGHTER THIEF CHAPTER 2 soon.
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