Author's note: Been reading a huge swath of male-male romances on my Kindle, and I know the change in my writing is the direct result of coming up against the likes of such talented authors as Marie Sexton, Damon Suede, Heidi Cullinan, Amy Lane, and Z.A. Maxfield, among others. I'll never be in their league, but I thank them for sharing their lovely stories and heart-wrenching characters with us, and encourage you to pick up their books for their markedly mature insights into the human condition.

Chapter 2

The next day, in spite of my efforts otherwise, my thoughts kept returning to puzzle over the history of my overnight guest: a slim boy I'd managed to save from salvaging food no one else wanted. The polite, distrustful teen who appeared to hold no more value for the world than the discarded food I'd prevented him from eating; wasn't anyone missing him? Shouldn't this story include the image of a loving family distraught by his absence?

He'd given no hint of it, and I was becoming more convinced by the hour that he had no one.

Maybe no one else wanted him...but me? I wasn't so sure, but he seemed to be growing on me.

The work day passed quickly; our occupancy rate was good for a downtown property, I'd been told. To me, it only meant the opportunity for additional bonuses as the Housekeeping department continued to struggle with the challenge of staffing just enough personnel to turn the rooms without missing check-in deadlines versus having too little work to share out among the maids.

As my department head Jane preferred to err on the side of caution, I was usually able to pull the extra rooms to clean that guaranteed a fatter check. Today was Friday, and payday. Seeing the extra forty dollars in my envelope, I decided with some satisfaction that my guest deserved a treat.

Since I wasn't sure what a seventeen year-old desired that I could afford, I'd wait until I saw him tonight to quiz him about possibilities. I returned to my cleaning cart with a renewed sense of purpose. It was four o'clock before I knew it, and stripping out of my improvised uniform, I dropped the slacks and shirt in the staff laundry bin, packed up and raced for the bus stop.

Breathless after my hurried exit from the bus and sprint up the building's four flights of stairs, I paused outside my apartment door. Willing myself to calmly insert the key, I cautioned my rapidly beating heart that he had likely already left for the day. If he was there, on the couch, I'd be casual and offer to fix dinner again.

If he wasn't, I'd have to return tomorrow to the boarded-up warehouses to find him. No man had ever twisted me around his finger so quickly, so effortlessly, so carelessly.

And we hadn't even kissed.

When the room was dark, and the apartment's air still, disappointment came at me in a wave, soothed quickly by a tentative, "Edward?"

Was it wrong to feel so much at so little? I didn't care.

"In the flesh." My voice was placid, adult.

The silence in the apartment grew while I waited for a reply. When I knew he wasn't up to saying more, I remembered dinner.

"I've a frozen pepperoni I've been saving, but when was the last time you had Godfather's pizza? One of the City's best, and they deliver down here."

"Don't know the place. What's my share?"

"Got a bonus in my paycheck—had to stop at the bank, s'why I'm later than usual. You like mushrooms and Canadian bacon?" Was there a soul alive who didn't?

"I don't like pineapple." His voice was soft, remembering, and the sweetness of it did funny things to my chest.

"Makes two of us, then. We'll walk down to the payphone at the 7-11 and order. Did you find a pair of socks in my dresser? And why're you sitting in the dark? I can afford the lights on, you know," I admonished, leaning over to flick the switch, the conversation up to then taking place in the near dark. I recalled how small animals seemed to prefer the safety of the dark; perhaps that was the right way to think of this man-child in front of me.

A small, furry, easily-alarmed animal with wide deep-set blue eyes and a too-thin frame.

The walk to the convenience store was made in a companionable silence, a few inches separating us. I wondered again what he made of our relationship, if I wasn't too optimistic in using the word.

"Cough's better, I see," I remarked after our order had been placed.

Evidently a nod was all the response that warranted.

"Let's get some pop to have with the pizza."

Sucking down an ice-cold Dad's root beer, I watched his throat muscles move as he gulped his Dr. Pepper. Looked like we'd both need seconds for the pizza; I made to snag another couple of bottles when his hand landed on my upper arm reaching for the case, staying me.

It was the first time he'd touched me. My eyes met his in question.

"How much's all this costing, Edward?"

I thought for a second, and made to sooth his silent fear. "My treat. You don't owe me for it."

His eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Nothing like that, boy. I'm gay, as I'm sure you guessed. But I don't take payment like that." I felt strong, certain, in my knowledge that I'd never take advantage.

Plus, I didn't really care to know exactly how he'd been contemplating repaying me. I didn't need the temptation; it'd been more than a year since my last tryst in the lot behind Side Kicks Saloon on 37th Avenue.

Jasper didn't venture any more after my confession, but he didn't act horrified or disrespectful or offer up any objections. We were both quiet on the way back to my apartment, and due to our killing time fingering the goods in the 7-11 aisles, we intercepted the Godfather's delivery guy at the top of the stairs just as he was ready to bolt. I tipped him generously, and we entered, the heady smell of hot mozzarella and sizzling bacon filling my nostrils.

"Let's sit on the couch," his voice rose at the end in question as he watched me flip on the lights again. "Can we play the radio?"

"I usually listen to the news; feel free to change the channel." Listening to music would be peaceful, provided he wasn't a heavy metal fan.

When I returned with two plates piled high and paper towels, he'd found a jazz station I also liked and set up our drink bottles side-by-side. Yes, this was what it felt like to be civilized, to have a boyfriend at my side as we sat down for dinner.

Definitely time to learn more about him. "Been on your own for long?" I asked around a too-full mouth of Canadian bacon and cheese.

His eyes met mine, and he stopped chewing, contentment sliding right off his face. "I quit school. I'm old enough," he eventually answered, careful to swallow first.

"How old are you?" the question that had been bothering me since I'd first seen him a few days earlier.

"Twenty-one?"

I squinted in disbelief, nudging him with a teasing "Fifteen?"

Indignation colored his cheeks. "Nineteen," he tried again to convince me.

"This isn't a negotiation. You even own a driver's license?"

"Seventeen. I was seventeen in the summer." Pausing, he clarified with, "Had a license, but it got lost."

"Age of consent then in this State."

"Same as in Texas."

I doubted he'd intended to let that nugget slip, but I let it pass without making a fuss.

"Think you ought to sleep here again. Cough's better, but another night indoors would help it."

I saw the relief bloom before he reluctantly shook his head. "I'm a nuisance. Time to head out."

"You got bus fare?"

"I can make it," the defiance suddenly present in the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his chin.

I didn't want to know what he had in mind; I could guess at the details.

"Couch is still free, and nice to have company. You'd probably never guess, but you're my first visitor." Back in Joplin, we'd often had distant relatives stopping in from their far-flung farms for an overnight. My momma's people, the Masons, had farmed the region since before the Civil War. We always searched for the family connection whenever we met strangers in town and usually could trace something out, given time.

He puffed out a breath before settling back against the couch. I watched in fascination as his hand moved off his own thigh and over to settle lightly on mine. "This what you have in mind? I'm good at it, when I have to be."

A swell of longing exploded in my core. Hell yes, I wanted what he was offering; I couldn't deny it. I turned to line up my face with his, meeting him eye-to-eye. He was clean, warm, well-fed, and willing. No money was changing hands, and I knew he was old enough to understand what he was offering.

I also knew if we did what my cock was urging, tightening against the front of my jeans in response to the weight of his hand so close to its surging warmth, he'd be gone in the morning without a backward glance.

Did I want that? Couldn't I hold out for something more from this barely-past-jailbait boy?

"No thinking," he admonished, his hand sliding to cup me through the jeans. "You want a blowjob or not?" He squeezed me then, adding, "and your lie detector will out you, so don't bother trying."

I shifted then, ostensibly to get away, but really to ease more into that fierce hold he had on me. Felt so good after so many months without.

"Guess that answers that." My eyes closed as the springs shifted beneath us, the noise of him scooting down to his knees mixed up with the sensations of his one hand keeping me firmly in his grasp as he popped my jean's top button and began working his way down the row of them.

Weak, helpless against the assault of his fingers, I didn't want him to stop.

It was only his muttered litany that saved me.

"Knew this was what you wanted; knew it when I felt you staring at my butt that first day in the alley. Always what guys like you want." There was no accusation, just resignation that another adult had failed him.

I found the strength and stayed his hand, covering it with my own. "I don't want that, Jasper," I lied with as much conviction as I could muster.

Again, disbelief narrowed his eyes as he leaned back on his heels, the harsh light from my shade-free lamp turning his hair deceptively shiny and smooth. I ached to touch it, touch him, rub my chest against his, circle his narrow waist with my palms as I explored the taste of his mouth and tongue.

"You'd be the first."

Confused by the double meaning for a few seconds, I shook my head, and lifted his chin. He obligingly opened his mouth into a soft, rounded "O" for me, and lowered his lashes to flutter against the curve of his cheeks.

Seductive little sucker! Now I was angry with him for the cheapness of his technique, reminded as I was of the reasons he'd learned that move. Disgusted, I didn't doubt he used it every day on strangers to earn a few extra dollars for his effort.

"You got a pimp who's missing your presence?" My angry words tumbled out, too harsh for one so young as Jasper, but I couldn't take them back. I waited for the big reveal.

"Nope. If I did, I'd probably be doing better than I am. Shake off this nasty flu some fucker gave me." A feeling of cold dread crept up my arms at the remorseless tone. Had some fucker also left him with other unwelcome gifts he'd be sharing with me as well?

I was flummoxed now, conscious I should be showing him the door, my inner prig asserting himself, but too horny to just let him walk away. I hesitated, uncertain which way to jump.

He solved my dilemma, standing and snagging a large portion of the pizza before heading for the door. "Later. Catch you at the next dumpster run, maybe."

And before I could protest, or push my leaden limbs from the center of the lumpy couch where he'd been sitting next to me a scant few minutes ago, enjoying his dinner, he'd slammed out the door. The echo of his steps died away on the stairs.

Guilt washed over me. I thought I'd seen the glint of tears in his eyes, but maybe I was projecting. Still, the moisture dribbled down into the corners of my mouth, and using the last clean paper towels, I quickly scrubbed my face clean of any evidence.

It was time to clear away the remains of the pizza. Practicalities asserted themselves: how would he find his way back to the homeless area near the Hotel where he had to be living?

Supposed I knew, although I didn't want to count up how many cocks he'd suck along the way.

- 00000 -

Note: The LGBT homeless youth statistics are both frightening and heartbreaking. Narrowminded individuals who reject their children, administrators who turn a blind eye, cruelly indifferent adults who could make a difference and don't have all contributed to this problem. I grew up in the Midwest in which this story is set, and change comes slowly to this part of the country. But it will come.