Too Easy

Their eyes had met briefly as each was scanning the others in the American Airlines departure lounge for the flight from Chicago’s O’Hare Airport to Los Angeles. That they lingered there for even a few seconds before moving on and they returned to take a second look meant they both knew it was enough to register mutual interest. When men were devoted to “the way” it didn’t take more than few seconds of eye connection to discern both the interest and the preferred position. For decades there had been signals, more locally established than internationally, but for the more serious of men, the eye connection was enough. For some reason one always seemed able to recognize one of his own.

Gus Hall, a thirty-nine-year-old, expensive-suit-wearing big man, once a six-foot-two, 230-pound professional football team power back, was on a two-month round-robin trip around the States on a recruiting assignment. Once a talented football player, he had found that his real talent was in assessing and cajoling the talent in others as a recruiter.

In stark contrast, twenty-three-year-old Tony Scarlotti, Italian dark, slim, dressed in a white cotton polo shirt and jeans, with purposeful, stylish slits at the knees, a well-under-six-foot community college degreed restaurant waiter and sometimes clothes model and community theater stage actor, was taking his first airplane trip to as far away from the East Coast as he could get.

Fate would have it that they wound up side by side in a two-seat window section in business class, with Gus nearly overfilling the window seat and Tony politely gravitating toward the aisle of the aisle seat to give the big guy a little extra room. Try as they might, that didn’t keep their thighs from rubbing together, and quite soon they stopped trying to prevent that, both conscious of the contact there. Gus’s sports franchise always sent Gus at least business class, not the least in recognition of his size. Tony had been upgraded by chance by an obviously gay gate podium attendant who was smitten with him and wanted to be favorably remembered—as he would remember and masturbate that night to visions of coupling with Tony. Tony had the effect on many gay guys. Some gay submissives had naturally attracting sex pheromones. That was Tony.

“So, this is what business class is like,” Tony said after an awkward silence when neither one knew what to say. They only recognized that there had been an understanding look of mutual assessment and appreciation between them in the departure lounge. Neither had had an inkling then that they were destined to be seated in the same row in the aircraft. Each was what the other liked, and both, from the knowing looks they had exchanged and the instinctiveness of their species, were acknowledged, without vocal confirmation, to be gay, compatible, and seeking. Gus had stood off to the side and watched, with amusement, the effect Tony had had on the gate attendant.

“You haven’t flown business class before?” Gus asked. “They don’t have first class on this flight.” He didn’t mean to be dropping that he was used to flying first class, but that’s what he’d done.

“I haven’t flown much of anywhere before,” Tony said. “I’m just a small-town Indiana boy.”

“Which town?”

“Wabash. It’s sort of in the upper middle of the state.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Tony said.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that badly.”

“That’s fine. Wabash is a good place to be from. And, as for business class, I got upgraded. The flight isn’t near full and the gate attendant saw that it was my birthday and upgraded me.”

“I saw that. I’m not sure the birthday was the motivating factor. He was flirting with you, you know.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” Tony was young and sassy. If he’d misjudged the interest of the man sitting next to him, that was just too bad—but it wasn’t likely. The way the man had run his eyes over Tony’s body had been much too obvious in intent. He wasn’t ashamed of what he was, and the man could think what he liked about that.

“Sorry if that put you off,” Tony said.

“It didn’t. I can see why he’d flirt with you. I hope that didn’t put you off,” Gus said.

“It didn’t. I’m gay. The gate attendant obviously was too.”

“Oh, OK,” Gus said, a bit sheepishly. He’d wanted to know for sure, of course, and now he did. He could try to cover for it as a gaff or take another tack. He tried the other tack. “Maybe it was seeing from your driver’s license that it was your birthday. So, I guess then happy birthday. How old? And when we reach altitude I’ll have to buy you a drink. But I won’t take that back. I can see why the gate attendant would have flirted with you. I’m sure you are sex on a stick to him.”

“Thanks, a drink would be nice. It’s my twenty-third . . . birthday. You travel a lot? You’re in planes a lot?”

“Yes, I’m a recruiter for the Tennessee Titans professional football team. This week it’s L.A.”

“Oh, does that mean you are a football player—or were—yourself?” It was obvious the man had been a bruiser of a football player, but Tony wanted to continue the conversation. He had a weak spot for big bruisers.

“Yeah. I was a power back with the team when it was the Housten Oilers, which turned into the Tennessee Titans. Retired at thirty-five, though, four years ago. Football’s in the blood, though, so I’m still with the program.”

“Your wife must be tired of you doing all of this traveling.”

“Don’t have a wife.” He gave the sexy dark haired, dark eyed, young man a meaningful look and dug in deeper. “I don’t swing that way. Never have.”

“So, you swing—”

“Oh, yes, I swing. I like to think I swing low. And, in case you wondered. I agree with the gate attendant.”

“Oh, how?”

“I think you’re sex on a stick and quite worthy to be flirted with.”

“Oh.” There was an awkward moment when Tony looked away and down. Gus wanted to think it was a moment in which the young man checked out his basket. “I thought you might be a professional football player or something when I first saw you,” Tony said, lightly touching Gus’s forearm with his fingers. Yes, it was an open invitation for intimacy.

You’re going to let me fuck you if we can get hooked up, aren’t you? Gus let run through his mind. He had taken off his jacket and put that in the overhead bin and was sitting in his shirtsleeves, which ended at his wrist with rather large, gold cufflinks in the shape of footballs. Tony touched one of them, clearly impressed with how expensive it must be. From where the cuffs ended, Tony could also see that the man was tattooed around his wrist. He wondered if it was a sleeve tattoo. That gave him a little thrill. On his part, Gus had already eyed Tony’s cotton polo shirt and been able to discern that the young man had bars pierced in his nipples.

“You are a big guy and all that,” Tony continued, “but, as you moved around the departure lounge, you looked like you move well on your feet. I notice that sort of thing. I do some clothes modeling and we had to take dance classes.”

“Moved like a hot knife through butter I was told back when I was carrying the ball through the defenders’ line. I like to think I have smooth moves both on and off the field.” And in the bedroom, Gus thought. “Sorry that I’m big. These seats just aren’t built for a former power back like me.” And, yes, my cock is as big as the rest of me, Gus thought. “It’s why I go first class when I can. Bigger seats. The team pays the extra, knowing I’m a big guy.” Would like you to know how big a cock I have for you, went through his mind. You have such slim hips. Would love to split the difference of those with what I got for you.

“Oh, I like big guys,” Tony said.

“You do? That’s a surprise. But, yes, I’m a big guy.” They both understand what he was declaring—where he was big.

He gave Tony a top-to-bottom scan, happy to have a chance to do so again after having done it in the departure lounge—purposely showing interest. He pressed his luck and took it even further. “I would think you’d shy away from big guys. You’re a small guy, and so slim. You’ve got really narrow hips.” What he wanted that to convey, which he obviously did, as Tony gave a little smile and a discernible shudder, was the assurance that he was hung—that he could split the difference of a narrow-hipped guy like Tony with a big one. If Tony was tight, he’d suffer. That was a fetish of Gus’s—splitting the narrowness of a small guy’s pelvis with a big, thick one to enjoy him suffering but at the same time wanting it all. He had a fetish for the small guys.

Tony understood exactly what the man was saying. “I like big guys,” he repeated. “Doe that tattoo go all the way up?” He was fingering the inking that extended below the cufflink line on Gus’s wrist.

“Yes, it does. And I like little guys,” Gus reiterated. And he did like little guys, with tight passages. He liked his partners to suffer. Before he could say or do more, though, the steward, an effeminate male, who gave Gus a big smile and a scrutinizing, knowing once over, appeared and Gus ordered two scotches “of the good stuff—one for the birthday boy here.”

When the attendant wiggled off, Tony said, “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

Gus twisted to him, saying “I wanted to,” and let his beefy hand move to Tony’s thigh. “There’s a lot I’d like to do, given the opportunity,” he added. “I hope it’s OK for me to say that.”

“Yes. That’s quite flattering,” Tony responded.

Rather than moving away from the hand, Tony widened his stance in the seat and the hand drifted to the inside of the young man’s thigh and stayed there until Gus could see that the attendant was coming back with the drinks.

The scotch that went into the drinks wasn’t on the freebie menu, and Gus took his wallet out to pay for them. He’d put the wallet on his thigh as he was giving the steward the money and when he looked down he saw that Tony was tracing what was embossed in the soft leather from what Gus had just inside that in his wallet. There was the distinct impression in the leather of the wallet of one of the condom disks Gus always traveled with—just in case. Tony was running a finger around the raised rim that showed. Gus didn’t comment as he put the wallet away, but he had no doubt that Tony knew what it was and that it meant that Gus was ever ready for action.

“You didn’t say why you’re going to L.A.,” Gus said as they were enjoying their drinks. “You’d said you hadn’t done much air travel—not to either of the coasts.”

“I have an audition. I studied acting in college and I’ve done some modeling.”

“An audition?”

“For movies.”

“Movies. That’s a great opportunity.”

“For adult movies,” Tony said, turning in his seat and giving Gus a pointed look. It was his turn to lay a hand on the other guy’s thigh. “Gay action vids.”

“Just like that? Today you’re modeling in—where was it? Calabash, Indiana—and the next day you’re in L.A. auditioning for movies? Gay action vids.”

“No, not just like that,” Tony said. “It’s Wabash. I do some acting in community theater. A guy working in gay movies saw me on stage and then at a gay bar afterward—yes, we have a couple of gay bars in Wabash. One thing led to another. He laid me and said he liked the way I performed—and not just on stage. He took my e-mail address and a couple of weeks later, he invited me out to Hawk Studios, at their expense.”

“He laid you,” Gus said, zeroing in on what interested him most. “You’re a casual sex kind of guy?”

“Yes,” Tony answered.

Gus smiled but didn’t pursue that further at the moment. “Hawk Studios,” he said. “They make really good films.” Yes, Gus had caught what Tony was revealing he had done to get a movie audition—and what sort of movies he was auditioning for. He realized that they were in some sort of negotiations here and he was just going with the flow. Tough that they were in a plane, but they were both going to L.A., and there were hotel rooms and hotel room beds in L.A. He’d already decided he’d fuck Tony if he could get the chance.

For his part, Tony had homed in on Gus knowing what sort of films Hawk Studios produced. “I think so too,” he said.

“High class films, for gay porn. Some plotting and great photography. Great-looking guys.”

“Yes, they do work the guys involved can be proud of, I think.”

“You’re a great looking guy. I think you should do very well in films. So, this was a big guy, the movie guy who laid you? And big cocked? Was he hung?” He’d like to use that term a couple of more times—“he laid you”—with Tony, if he could, for effect.

“With a really big cock, yes. I did just fine.”

“I’m surprised because you seem to be so slim hipped.” Gus’s fetish was showing, and Tony couldn’t help but catch on to it.

“Yes, I did fine with it in the filming.”

The hand that had been on Gus’s thigh moved up to take a feel of his basket. Tony covered the move by leaning over Gus’s lap and saying, “It’s a really clear day. I can see the ground and everything even from way up here.” Raising and turning his hips toward the window covered for the action. Gus let the young guy have a good feel. Gus was engorging and Tony boldly ran his fingers down the length of the thick shaft through the material.

When Tony sat back in his seat, Gus said, “Big enough for you?”

“Plenty. And you’re hard.”

“Yes, I am. Could you let me by, please? I need to make a trip to the head.”

“Sure,” Tony said, with a smile. He stayed in his seat, though, and while Gus was maneuvering over him, there for more than a few seconds, he was hovering over Tony, facing him, with his hands pressed on Tony’s knees. They held there, suspended in time for a few seconds, their eyes locked on each other’s, their desires baldly expressed, realizing they were in a missionary position, both enjoying the image.

“Yes,” Tony whispered.

“I haven’t asked yet,” Gus said.

“I think you will. Yes, I’d go to a hotel with you when we land in L.A.”

“You’re a cocky little piece, aren’t you?”

“You got that right.”

“Were you as easy for this movie guy who laid you?”

“Yep.”

When Gus returned, he held in the same position, hovering over Tony. “I wish we didn’t have to wait for a hotel in L.A. All it would take would be for you to put your ankles on my shoulders and I’d be inside you,” he murmured.

“Yes, I know,” Tony answered. “And, yes.”

Gus went back into his seat. “Pity this is a day flight and there’s so much coming and going in the aisles.”

“Yes, a pity.”

“You a member of the Mile High Club? You understand what the Mile High Club is?”

“Yes. Yes, I know what it is. No, I’m not a member. I’ve done very little flying. You?”

Gus laughed. “I take a lot of flights, but I think that’s usually done in the plane’s head, and I’m too big a guy for these heads in the first place.”

“So, you’re not a member of the Mile High Club.”

“Yes, I am. There have been some night flights and a few private planes.”

“I like big guys. Especially ones with experience.”

This cutie is way beyond easy, Gus thought. “And I like that you like big guys. Somebody meeting you in Los Angeles?”

“No, I thought I’d come out early. I was told I could easily get a room in a hotel near the airport this time of year. Hawk Studios said they’d pay for it.”

“I’m booked at the Residence Inn, just outside the LAX entrance.”

“Are you?”

“I’d like to take you to dinner—to celebrate your birthday.”

“That would be very nice, thanks.”

“Then you’ll come up to my hotel room. I’ll lay you out good. You’ll squeal like a girl. I suppose you’ll want me to pay you.”

“I think you can probably afford to.”

“How much were you thinking?”

“Can you do a couple of hundred?”

Gus had to turn his head away so Tony didn’t see him snigger. The guy was proving he was a hayseed at this.

“I suppose,” he turned and said. “Is that what they’re offering to pay you for a video scene?”

“Yes.”

Another head turn. “So, you’ll come up to my hotel room?”

“Yes. Is it a tall hotel? A mile high?”

Gus laughed. “I think I can lift you a mile high. It’s about a mile slide down it. You got a good feel.”

“Yes, yes I did.”

Gus smiled. This was almost too easy. The sweet little piece was begging for it. Such narrow hips. God, I hope his passage is tight, Gus was thinking. He also was thinking that he didn’t want to wait for it. Cocky little piece. Gus wanted to hear him squeal as he danced on it.

Suddenly Gus pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, unlatched his seat tray, and put it in position over his lap. He fumbled under the tray.

“What are you . . . you’re not, are you?” Tony asked and gave a little laugh.

Gus handed him the handkerchief. “Yes, I am. I can’t wait. I want a taste of it now. If you’re not just a tease, give me some relief now.”

Tony laughed again. “Sure, why not?” He took the handkerchief and moved his hand under the tray, not being the least surprised to find that Gus had unzipped himself and taken his cock out or that he was in massive erection.

Gus lay back in his seat and spread his legs. “Do me good,” he said. “The first step, at least, in the Mile High Club.”

Tony covered the cap of Gus’s cock with the folded handkerchief to avoid making a mess and jacked him off while keeping an eye out for anyone passing up the aisle. Fortuitously, though, they’d hit a patch of minor turbulence and the seatbelt sign went on. The aisle remained clear through Gus’s high-in-the-sky liftoff. Gus met the requirements for the first step in the Mile High Club as they were passing over Salt Lake City.

They had to stand, crowded, in the aisle, waiting for the door to open at the gate. Tony copped another feel. Gus took his jacket down from the overhead bin, extracted his cellphone, and took a close-up shot of Tony’s face and then angled the camera down to get a shot of Tony feeling him up.

They didn’t realize until they were in the baggage claim area that they hadn’t introduced themselves to each other by name yet, and they took care of that. Gus, the inveterate traveler, had packed everything he needed into his carryon. Far less experienced in air travel, Tony had to wait for his bag to come out of the chute. Gus took a few more photos of the young man while they waited.

He leaned over and whispered in Tony’s ear, “I’m gonna fuck you into next week. I’m gonna split the difference in those narrow hips of yours with one so big you’re gonna be crying for your momma. You’re gonna squeal like a pig as you slide down the pole and I lift you up and you slide down it again.”

“Looking forward to it,” Tony replied, flashing Gus a saucy smile.

* * * *

“Should I shower first?” Tony asked, breaking away from the kiss as they rocked together, standing, in the hotel room. Gus already had Tony’s fly down and his hand inside. He was unzipped and hanging out too, big and proud, leading with one of his best assets. His jacket was off and hanging on the back of a desk chair. His wallet and cellphone were on the credenza next to the TV set, with the audio turned on. He’d fired off a few photos of Gus in heat from his cellphone, including the mirror behind Gus and therefore getting a shot of himself hanging out as well.

“Yeah, that would be a good idea. But let’s make it sexy. Stand over by the bathroom door and strip slowly for me.” Gus himself was standing in the middle of the room, a hand holding his shaft out and slow stroking it.

Tony posed for him and had Gus breathing heavily. Moving into the bathroom, Tony stood in the shower, soaping himself up and rinsing himself off—moving his hands all over his body—Gus, fully dressed other than his long, thick erection sticking out and being held in his hand, leaned into the bathroom door frame and watched Tony in the shower with slitted eyes.

“Look what I got for you,” Gus growled.

“Shit, you’re big,” Tony called out from the shower.

“Yes I am. And you’ve got such narrow hips. This is gonna be fun.”

“For you,” Tony said.

“For both of us—if you like to suffer.”

Tony didn’t say anything in response to this. He was sure they both knew that it didn’t really make any difference how narrow his hips were, but that Gus found this image to be a real turn on. It, thus, did it for Tony as well. They both were panting hard in anticipation. When they came together and connected, it would be explosive.

Tony turned off the water; came out of the shower; slowly dried himself off, making it an exhibition; while Gus watched; and brushed by Gus and into the bedroom. He made sure to touch the other man as he moved. The air was sizzling with electricity.

He picked up his cellphone and went over to the wall of glass overlooking the LAX runways. The glass was in large, square sections, set off by frames of steel, with six-inch deep lips, one running horizontally across the window at Tony’s waist level. Elbows perched on this lip, Tony leaned into the window, as Gus went into the bathroom and pissed in the toilet.

Gus came to the window when he exited the bathroom. He stopped at the credenza long enough to pull two condom packets from his wallet. Tony turned his phone from recording his naked torso and hard-on to catch the clothed, but cock-released—older man approaching him. At the window, Gus laid the condom packets on the ledge next to one of Tony’s elbows. He was still dressed in his shirt and trousers, with his cock hanging out of his fly. His shirt was open under a pair of suspenders and flared, showing impressive body tattooing the covered his left pec and disappeared into his left arm sleeve.

“Jut your ass back from the window and give me the stance,” Gus said. When Tony complied, the man went down on his knees behind Tony, grasped and separated the young man’s butt cheeks, and buried his face in Tony’s crack.

Tony moaned, pressing his cheek and the palms of his hands to the window glass high over the airport while Gus ate him out, opening him up, preparing him for the massive cock. Eventually, Gus stood, reached around Tony’s hip to take up and split a condom packet, extract a disk, roll it on his cock and smooth it down, spit in his hand, and lube up the sheathed cock with the spittle. Tony filmed it all on the cellphone.

Penetration—swift and deep. Writhing at the invasion, Tony suffered, gasping and groaning and complaining, “Fucking shit, it’s huge,” as Gus opened him up with the shaft.

“I know how fuckin’ big it is,” Gus growled and then laughed. “Shit, you’re fuckin’ tight. Just like I like it.”

Big man grabbing small young man’s hips in his beefy mitts, his thumbs pressing in Tony’s butt cheeks to keep them pulled apart, Gus worked his way in until he could slide in and out easily, and he, mostly clothed, fucked Tony, naked, against the window. He started slow, giving Tony a lot of verbal encouragement, but he ended fast and furious, concerned only with himself and his own insistent need and pleasure. Tony writhed under him, crying out the pain-pleasure of the taking. One of his hands went down between his legs and he stroked himself off while Gus was fucking him. The other hand held the cellphone, recording the pounding his ass was taking.

When Gus tensed, jerked, and came, he stripped the now-used condom off, turned, and sat down at the base of the window, back to the glass. Tony twisted and came down beside him. The two embraced and kissed, and sat there, next to each other, calming their panting.

“The movie guy was right,” Gus said when he was able to catch his breath.

“How so?” Tony asked. He knew the answer but wanted to hear the big football guy say it.

“You are a great lay.”

After several minutes, when they both had recovered, Tony turned and went on his knees in front of Gus. The former football player grunted as Tony grasped his cock, gave it a few strokes, and held in upright. Gus groaned as Tony swirled his tongue around the cockhead and then gasped as Tony swallowed it down to the root and started sucking on it. When Gus was in moaning erection, Tony reached up on the ledge and brought down the second condom packet. He slit it open, rolled the disk on Gus’s recovering erection himself, turned and straddled Gus’s lap, facing him, descended on the big man’s cock, and rose and fell on the shaft, fucking himself for the second go.

As he rose and fell on the cock, Tony ran his hands under the flared edges of Gus’s shirt and suspenders and traced the breast tattoo with his fingers, whispering, “Nice; very nice.”

* * * *

“I want you to go over and sit at the foot of the bed in the position you were in when I crawled over you in the plane.”

Tony laughed. “This could be fun.” He got up and went over the bed, sitting down and spreading his legs. He took his cellphone, still recording, with him.

“Didn’t you have the seat reclined?” Tony leaned back, supporting his weight on his elbows pressed into the bed behind him. Gus got up from the window. Picked up the two spent condoms and the split packets, made a pass at the wastebasket by the desk, and stood there a minute, looking at the naked Tony on the bed. Gus slipped off his shirt, pulling it from under the suspenders he was wearing and showing his breast and sleeve tattoo in all of its glory. He made a performance of taking the gold football cufflinks out. He walked over to the credenza; placed the cufflinks next to his wallet there; picked up his cellphone and shot off a couple of more photos of his own of Tony sitting, naked, on the bed; and fished another condom packet out of his wallet.

Tony watched him doing this. He’d gasped when Gus took his shirt off, and was panting and recording on his cellphone as the man moved around the room. The swirly tattoo that followed the beefy curves of his left pec and went over his shoulder and down his left arm to his wrist was magnificent. In addition to that the man was cut like a god—Zeus. He was still hanging out of the fly of his trousers and was big, thick, long, and hard again. He slowly rolled another condom on his shaft.

Gus walked slowly to the bed, standing between Tony’s spread legs and grasping the young man’s knees with his hands just as he did when he climbed over Tony in the plane. He lowered his face to Tony’s and they went into a deep kiss. Gus moved his right arm to encircle Tony’s waist and he lift the young man’s pelvis. Tony rolled his pelvis up to give Gus access and raised his legs, hooking them on Gus’s shoulders, just as Gus had mentioned in the airplane. He jerked away from the kiss and gave a gasp and a little cry as Gus entered his passage, strongly, thick, deep. Gus’s lips went down Tony’s throat to the bars in his nipples, and Gus sucked on those, one after the other, while he held Tony suspended under him, and fucked.

Before finishing, Gus stood and stripped off his trousers, so that they both now were naked. He turned Tony to where the young man was kneeling at the bottom edge of the bed, Gus gripping the back of his neck, pressing the young man’s cheek and chest to the surface of the bed, and fucking him vigorously and deep in the doggy position. After several minutes of this, Gus pulled them both up on the bed and went on his back. Tony rode his cock in the cowboy position, facing away from Gus’s head and gripping the man’s knees. In the last position, Tony showing signs of exhaustion, and Gus seemingly good to go for another hour or so, Gus put them on their sides, stretched out against each other, Tony’s buttocks pressed into Gus’s crotch. Cupping Tony’s chin with on hand, Gus held the young man’s right leg raised with the other, and fucked him to an eventual ejaculation in a side split.

After cooling down, Gus rolled away from Tony, who remained stretched out, arms and legs akimbo, panting low and moaning, picked up a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, lit up, and savored a smoke. When he was done, he looked over at Tony to see that the young man was asleep, an arm thrown over his face, breathing regularly, but still with a hint of a moan in his breath.

Standing, Gus crushed the butt of the cigarette in an ashtray—he’d paid extra for a smoking room—slipped off the third and last of the spent condoms, performed a perfect pitch into the wastebasket next to the desk across the room, and went to take a shower. He wasn’t finished with Tony and was thinking of what positions he would take the sweet little piece in during the night. He’d have to fish more condoms out of his suit bag. He stopped at the credenza and took a couple of cellphone shots of the sleeping Tony.

When he came out of the bathroom, Tony was gone. He’d only been in the shower for ten minutes or so and he thought he’d left the young guy exhausted and dead to the world.

Tony wasn’t the only thing gone. Tony’s suitcase was gone. And, worse, Gus’s wallet and the gold cufflinks were gone. His first thought was that he had photos of the little shit, so they’d track him down. But his cellphone was gone too. He then noticed that his carry-on suit bag was open and had been rifled through. Tony had certainly moved fast while Gus was taking his shower.

There had been $2,000 in high-denomination bills in his wallet. There had been another $2,000 in cash in his suit bag. The cufflinks were football championship items, worth maybe $20,000. And then there were all of those credit cards. He didn’t even know which of the credit cards in his own name he’d brought—and he’d had some Tennessee Titans account cards to. He was a recruiter. He had a lot of expenses. Not all of them were above the table. What a fool he’d been. Tony had said he’d let him fuck him for a couple of hundred dollars, and Gus had thought the little fucker was just a naïve hayseed in the big city. Tony didn’t care how much he said he’d do the fuck for. Tony intended to take it all.

Tony had conned him, taken him for a ride. Gus couldn’t even make that much of a fuss about it. He’d told Tony he wasn’t married. He was, and he had lied. He’d lied to get the little fucker in the sack, just like he always did.

Had Tony recognized him and known he was married? If he didn’t know already; he knew now. The bastard would see the photos of Colleen and the kids in the wallet—and would see what Gus’s name actually was. When and where had the con started? Right there in the departure lounge? How had Tony managed to get in the seat beside him in the airplane.

Gus sank down on the bed and grabbed for the pack of cigarettes again. It flashed across his mind that Tony had an audition at the Hawk Studios. Gus could . . . but, no, of course not. It all—or most of it—had been a lie. Nothing Tony had said about himself could be counted on to be the truth.

Why that little shit. Gus had thought it all had been too easy. He hadn’t known that it was Tony it had been too easy for, not him.

The hotel room phone rang. Gus answered it, to hear Tony’s voice.

“I can tell you where all of your stuff is and you can have it back—although I’ve already sent on the recordings we both did to somewhere safe,” Tony said.

“You little shit. You want something don’t you? You were just too easy.”

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s anything too difficult for you. My boyfriend, Lamont Holly, is a fullback on Notre Dame’s team and is in the pro draft. Maybe you’ve heard about him?”

“Yes, I know about him,” Gus said. “All of this was because you want me to get your boyfriend recruited by the Titans?”

“Basically yes, but I can’t say I didn’t have a great time with you. But, yes, Lamont wants to play for the Titans. All of the stuff I took from you is at the hotel desk in your name, but I still have all the recordings and I know that you, in fact, are married and have children. So—”

“Yes, not problem,” Gus said. He wouldn’t reveal to Tony that he’d already filed a report on Lamont Holly to the Titans highly recommending they recruit him. “I’d like to see you again, though . . . to do more with you.”

“Even after I’ve blackmailed you?”

“Even so. Let’s say we get together again if and when Holly is signed by the Titans.”

“So, you think I’m that easy?” Tony said.

“Yep, I do.” Gus responded. And Tony’s subsequent agreement to the arrangement then proved him right.