Saved in Time of Peril

“Go ahead and scream, faggot.   No one’s going to hear you here.  You want it.  You know you do, that’s why you were in that fucking queer bar.  Always lots of easy marks in there, but you might have been the easiest.”  He snarled the words, holding onto the neck of my shirt so tight it was nearly cutting off my air. I heard the buttons of his jeans pop open behind me as he used the hand that was free.  He growled, “You try to run, bitch, and I’ll beat you unconscious, and then I’ll still fuck your ass.  I’d much rather hear you struggling and crying, but it’s your choice.  I haven’t messed that pretty face up too much yet, and it’d be a shame if I had to, but you try to get away and your face will look like hamburger.”  Terror seized me and I screamed out “Help me!  Somebody, PLEASE!!”  The blow to the back of my head made my head spin, and quite literally I saw stars.

A little explanation of how I found myself in this situation.  My name is Kris.  I’m 26 years old, and just worked up the courage to come out last week.  Surprisingly, my parents were supportive and told me they had known for years, but also saw that I was struggling to come to grips with it.  They were just waiting for me to tell them.  I sobbed “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?  I’ve agonized for years, and was afraid you’d disown me.  Your church certainly won’t be as accepting.”  My dad put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Kris, we stopped going there a long time ago.  We’re sorry we didn’t tell you that and let you think we were still part of that regressive, closed-minded, group of asses who are only interested in being intolerant of anyone who doesn’t look, think, and hate like them.  We’re really sorry, Kris, and we’re sorry we didn’t talk to you sooner and let you know that.  Nothing… nothing will ever break our love for you.”  I sat there and wept, relief, pent up pain and fear, releasing it all into pure joy.  “All we’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, healthy, and confident in being the amazing man you’ve grown into.  Please forgive us, Kris.”  They held me between them, not shushing my crying, just holding me, Mom rubbing my back, and Dad alternately kissing my forehead head and laying his cheek on the top of my head.  A week after coming out to my parents, I had told a few trusted friends, at work and away from work, and was relieved that they had assured me that it was not a deal to them.  How had I come to this point of expecting everyone’s hate, rather than anyone’s acceptance.  Well, of course, it was that “church” that I grew up going to until 10th grade when my parents let me choose whether I wanted to go.  Of course I didn’t.

Friday of the second week after coming out to my parents, I decided I wanted to make my first foray out into gay life.  Find the gay community and see if there was anything there for me.  I had searched the internet to find the names of all the gay bars in the city, which ones were closest to my apartment, and what reputation they had as far as the clientele that went to them.  I hadn’t told my parents that I had been watching gay porn for years now, so I knew a lot about what goes where, some of the kinks and fetishes that were out there, and had even read plenty of articles telling readers that real life is nothing like porn.  I had figured out that there wasn’t any one particular type of man that I was attracted to, but I hadn’t figured out which role I was interested in if I got together with a man.  To be honest, some of the versatile porn I’d watched intrigued me, but I was always watching the cock disappear into the ass or the mouth, or one and then the other.

I decided on one that reviews indicated was a “low-key place for men of all ages.”  Their website stressed that intolerance, abusive language, or even the appearance of bullying would not be allowed, and would result in immediate removal and banning from the bar.  That made me think this was probably the perfect place for my first time in a gay bar.  It was not too far either from work or from my apartment, walkable from both, so I had decided to leave my car at home and walk to work, to the bar, and then back home.  I’ll admit I still had butterflies in the pit of my stomach when I walked in the door.  I knew it wouldn’t get busy until a while into the evening, so I went to a restaurant near work and had a leisurely dinner.  It was dark by the time I left the restaurant, and it was close to 8 by the time I got to the bar.  I looked around to see if anyone was standing around watching who went in, told myself I was being paranoid and walked into the bar, butterflies in the pit of my stomach.  I looked around and saw men that looked like me, men that were bearded and hairy, some with shirts open all the way down, some without shirts, a couple wearing leather harnesses, some middle aged men and some older, in a variety of body types.

I began to relax and walked up to the bar, scooting onto a stool.  Almost immediately a very handsome, hairy ginger bear of a bartender came over and smiled as he asked me what I’d like.  I told him I had just come out last week and it was my first time at a gay bar, and asked him what he’d suggest.  He asked me if I like beer?  Wine?  Mixed drinks?  I told him that I hadn’t had a lot of liquor, aside from a few college parties with bad, cheap rum and cokes, and that beer was what I drank mostly, but not really a lot even then.  He said, “Well, maybe something a little more adventurous than beer, since that’s what you usually drink, and since I was recently out, and it was my first time at a gay bar.  Don’t worry, I’m not gonna get you drunk and then sick.”  His smile was genuine and his eyes were kind and friendly, so I felt like I could trust him, so I said, “Fix me something you think would be a good first drink.”  He grabbed a tumbler, filled it with ice, and asked, “You okay with a top-shelf gin?  It’s noticeably better than the cheaper well gin, with a milder taste.”  I replied that I was good with whatever gin he thought was best.  He reached behind himself to the stepped wall of bottles and grabbed a bottle of Bombay Sapphire, poured into a jigger with a little extra pour as he dumped it into the glass.  He then filled it the rest of the way with tonic and then squeezed two lime wedges into it, set it on a napkin, and slid it over to me.  He said, “Give that a taste and see if you like it.”  I took a sip from the cocktail straw and immediately smiled and said, “Oh, that’s good!”  He laughed and said he thought I’d like it.  He told me how much it was, and asked if I wanted to pay or start a tab.  I thought starting a tab might make it too easy to drink more than I wanted, and I could monitor my drinking better using cash.  He went to the cash register and brought me the change from the $20 bill I had given him, $13, a five and eight ones.  I gave him three dollar bills and said, “Thank you.  By the way, I’m Kris.  He put out his big hand and as we shook, he said, “I’m Barry.  Nice to meet you, and if you need anything, or someone makes you uncomfortable, you come to me and I’ve got your back.”

I sat there and looked around for a bit, noticing a dance floor where no one was dancing, but lots of men were standing around talking in animated conversations, occasionally loud laughter sounding over the music.  Barry came over and said, “There’s a patio out back, and pinball and video games over there in that corner,” indicating a corner across the bar.  “Walk around and check things out.  Restrooms are around that corner,” indicating the end of the wall behind the liquor wall.  “Okay, I will.  Thanks!” I said as I took my drink and began to walk around.  I walked out to the patio, which was nice, with tables and benches, overhanging branches giving it a secluded feel.  A few men said hi with smiles as they passed by with empty beer bottles or glasses.  I noticed a number of heads turn to look at me as I walked around, but then turn back to their conversations.  I wasn’t exactly sure how to start a conversation with someone, so I just watched for a bit.  After a while, I walked back inside and went to check out the corner with video games and a pinball machine.  One of the video games was free, so I scooted onto the stool in front of it to see what games were on it.  I fed a couple dollars into it and chose a trivia game.  After I had been playing a couple minutes, the guy at the next game looked over and said, “Hey, you’re pretty good at that!” I looked over at him and said, “Thanks!”  I looked at him quickly, taking in a black leather jacket, black jeans, black square toed boots, and a white wife-beater under the jacket.  His hair was dark, curly on top with the sides cropped very short, giving him sort of a mohawk-mullet look.  The machine started beeping, counting down that it was about to time out, so I turned back and answered the question on the screen.  Correctly.  When I got to the end of the round and the game played it’s fanfare and announced the “bonus round,”  He said, “I’m Griff,” and stuck out his hand.  “Kris,” I said.  “Nice to meet you.”  He leaned a little closer and said, “I see your drink’s empty.  Would you like another?”  I thanked him and started to reach into my pocket for money, but he stopped me and said it was on him, turning and disappearing over to the bar.  I looked back over my shoulder and saw him at the other end of the bar, served by someone other than Barry.

I had started the next round when he came back and set my drink down next to me.  As he leaned over to see the screen, his jacket hung open, showing a box of Marlboro reds in the inner pocket.  I didn’t like cigarettes, but also realized smoking wasn’t a reason not to talk to someone or make a friend.  After all, some of my friends at work smoked.  He laid his hand on my shoulder, leaning a little closer as I continued to play.  I didn’t know whether he was just watching, being friendly, or if I was being hit on.  The distraction caused me to miss a question which ended the game.  “Bummer,” he said as the machine announced I had lost the round.  He asked if I wanted to go out on the patio, saying he needed a smoke.  I said okay, and we walked toward the door, his hand on the small of my back.  I felt myself tense just a bit at this rather possessive feeling touch.  We sat down at a table and he lit a cigarette.  He asked me “Are you new in town?  Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”  I said no, it was just my first time here.  “Yeah?  Me too!  Didn’t even know this place was here until tonight.  Your boyfriend at work, tonight?” he asked.  This definitely struck me as odd.  He had said he didn’t think he’d seen me there before, and now he just said hadn’t ever been here before.  “No boyfriend,” I said.  He leaned closer and said, “I could take care of that problem for you.  I’d love to make you my boy.”  Now I was definitely uncomfortable, and said, “Well, I’m not really looking for a boyfriend right now.  Thank you for the drink.  I think I need to go to the restroom, and probably head home, as I had to be at work in the morning, I lied.  I left the half empty drink on the table, said, “Have a good evening, Griff.  Maybe I’ll see you here again, sometime,” and headed back inside.  I did, indeed go to the restroom, after catching Barry’s eye to make sure he saw what direction I was headed.

Feeling a little unsettled from the interaction with Griff, I thought it might be a good idea to head home, lest Griff try to be more persistent, or maybe get ugly because he bought me a drink and I left his company soon after.  I scooted onto the stool in front of Barry again and he asked, “Another?”  I said, “No, just a glass of water.  I’m going to head home.”  Barry’s obviously very good at reading people, and he said, “Is everything okay?  Did someone do something to you?”  I shook my head slightly, my eyes scrunching slightly as I said, “No, just didn’t feel comfortable with someone who bought me a drink, and then was coming on kinda strong.”  I’m going to have a glass of water and then head home.  “Okay,” he said, “If you’re sure you’re okay.  You okay to drive?”  I smiled at him and said, “Oh I just live up at Waller and Craig, so it’s just a 10-15 minute walk.”  His face clouded a bit and he said, I’d feel better if you let me get you an Uber or a cab.  I said, “No, no, you don’t need to do that.  I’m okay.  Thank you for being so nice to me and making me feel so welcome, Barry.  You’ll definitely see me again!”  I finished the last gulp of water and as I stood up, he leaned forward and said, “Be careful, okay?  You see anything that makes you uncomfortable, you come right back here, or else call the police.”  “Promise,” I assured him, and turned and left the bar.  As I left, I saw out of the side of my eye that he was on the phone, looking uneasy.

I was three blocks away from the bar, passing an alley between two warehouses that were being converted into luxury condos, when an arm grabbed around my throat and a gloved hand clamped over my mouth.  I was forcefully yanked into the alley, being dragged rapidly behind my assailant, and suddenly slammed up against a wall behind a construction dumpster.  I managed to twist and flail my mouth out from under his hand and started screaming, “Stop it!  Get off of me!  Help!  Help me!”  “Go ahead and scream, faggot.   No one’s going to hear you here.  You want it.  You know you do, that’s why you were in that fucking queer bar.  Always lots of easy marks in there, but you might have been the easiest.”  He snarled the words, holding onto the neck of my shirt so tight it was nearly cutting off my air. I heard the buttons of his jeans pop open behind me as he used the hand that was free.  He growled, “I’m gonna fuck your ass, you fuckin’ stuck up little cocktease.  You try to run, bitch, and I’ll beat you unconscious, and then I’ll still fuck your ass.  I’d much rather hear you struggling and crying, but it’s your choice.  I haven’t messed that pretty face up too much yet, and it’d be a shame if I had to, but you try to get away and your face will look like hamburger.”  Terror seized me and I screamed out “Help me!  Somebody, PLEASE!!”  The blow to the back of my head made my head spin, and quite literally I saw stars as my face smacked against the wall.  “Shut the fuck up, faggot.  I told you I’d make you my boy.  You’re mine now, and I’m going to show you what a real man does with a dick.”  He released my face long enough to push his torso against my back, pinning me to the building while he yanked my pants and underwear down in one savage move.  I suddenly felt the head of his cock poking around trying to find my butt crack.  I started screaming even louder, begging for someone to help me.  He started thrusting hard, his dry cock sticking to and stretching the skin between my cheeks.  Suddenly I felt his head on my asshole, and he started pushing hard.  Maybe the fact that I’m a virgin worked in my favor because he kept trying, shoving against my hole, which was not opening to his unlubricated assault.

I was still screaming when suddenly, mid scream, I heard “FREEZE!  HANDS IN THE AIR, NOW!”  His hands suddenly released me and he tried to make a run for it, but his feet got tangled in my pants, which were now around my ankles.  I spun around and saw a cop lunge at him as he tripped, slamming him to the ground, yelling, “PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOU BACK!  DO IT NOW!  DON’T FIGHT ME, ASSHOLE!”  The other cop fell on top of him, pinning his neck down with his knee, grabbing the arm closest to him and twisting it back behind him as he yelled and said “YOU’RE BREAKING MY ARM, DAMMIT.  WE WERE JUST HAVING A LITTLE FUN.  HE ASKED ME FOR IT.  THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!  WE WEREN’T IN PUBLIC VIEW!”  The cop that had tackled him yelled, “SHUT THE FUCK UP, ASSHOLE!” as I heard the ratcheting of handcuffs around his wrist and his agonized cry as the other cop yanked his arm down so the cuff could go around the other wrist.  His legs were flailing, trying to kick anyone he could get.  Both cops immobilized his legs, pinning them down with their knees.  I saw one pull a wide white twist tie out from somewhere and they quickly zipped it around his ankles, pulling it tight.  I was standing there leaning up against the wall, nearly hyperventilating, my eyes watering, snot running out my nose and down across my mouth.  I felt the stinging of the abrasions on the side of my face where he had slammed me against the rough brick of the building.  The first cop got up and stood over the head of the assailant, who, as I thought, it was now confirmed was Griff.  If that was indeed his name.  I sank to my knees, my hyperventilating turning into wracking, screaming sobs.  The other cop moved over to me with lightning speed, wrapping his arms tightly around me and saying, “It’s okay now.  We got him.  He’s not going to do anything else to you.  Are you okay?  Can you stand up?  He helped me stand up, but my knees started to buckle.  He held me tighter, turned us around so he was up against the wall, turned my face up to his with gentle hands, repeating again and again, “It’s okay.  It’s okay.  He’s not going to hurt you.  He can’t hurt you.  You’re safe.  You’re safe, just breathe.  It’s okay, just breathe.”  I felt his face against the top of my head, and suddenly the feel of my father’s face on my head as I wept in my parents’ arms returned to my mind, and I felt myself begin to go limp.  I grabbed onto him and just stood there wailing as he held me, rubbing my shoulder.  He had stopped talking, instead just holding me, letting the adrenaline of panic to subside.

As my sobs turned to gaspy hiccups, he loosened his hold on me and turned my face so he could look into my eyes.  He finally, for the first time, said “Sshh.  Sshh, it’s over.  I’ve got you.  You’re safe.”  Through my tears, I croaked, “If you hadn’t been there…” and couldn’t say any more.  As he still held me, I heard his partner’s voice from the speaker on his shoulder, speaking through his radio calling for dispatch to send backup and an ambulance to where we were.  By the time he finished, he was standing next to us, one hand resting softly on my arm where I was gripping his partner tightly still.  He said, softly, “He’ll never hurt you again.  We’ll make sure of it.  You’re safe now.”  I was finally calm enough to loosen my arms from around the cop who had held me until I could stop hyperventilating and panicking.  I looked up at him for the first time, seeing a pair of blue eyes looking into mine, a bright orange beard and mustache, and equally bright, short hair on his head.  I looked over at the other cop, to see a dark, thick, short-groomed beard and mustache and dark hair, spiky and disheveled from his struggle with Griff.  In a weak, barely audible voice, I said, “I thought I was going to die.  I thought he’d kill me after he got done r… ra….”  I couldn’t say the word, and suddenly I felt dirty.  It must have been something in my face because the dark-haired cop said in a soft, comforting voice, “Listen to me.  You didn’t do anything to cause this.  You didn’t do anything.  None of this is your fault.  We’re going to take care of you.  An ambulance will be here soon.  You need to go to the hospital so they can check you and make sure you’re not injured.  We’ll come there as soon as we get him to the station and throw him in jail.  You’re not going to be alone in this.  We’re here to help.”  I sniffled and looked at the two kindest faces I think I’ve ever seen.  “How did you find me?”  The ginger cop chuckled slightly and said, “You got quite the set of lungs on you!  We heard you as we drove by the end of the alley.  But also, we were on the lookout for you.  Barry called me and asked us to keep an eye on you on your way home.  We had passed by you, and when we rounded the block again, you were gone.  We started looking, and then we heard you.

I heard sirens suddenly close by, and then they stopped.  I saw blue and red flashes on the wall of the other building and heard running footsteps.  I saw two more cops run from behind the dumpster and stop, surveying the scene.  Griff suddenly started yelling, “I want those two arrested for assault and false arrest!  I didn’t do anything!”  One of the cops who had just arrived went over to him and said “Shut the hell up, asshole!  You’re lucky I care more about my career than your sorry fucking ass, or I’d kick your teeth in.”  The other cop who had just arrived went over to them and the two of them picked him up by his arms and feet and began to carry him out of the alley to a waiting police car.

The dark-haired cop who was still standing with the ginger cop and me said, “You are going to press charges, right?”  I looked at him dumbly for a couple seconds and suddenly from nowhere I started laughing. It started as one chuckle, then two, then uncontrollable laughter.  They looked at me confused as I laughed and finally calmed down to single laughs between gasps.  I looked into his eyes and said “You bet your ass I am!”  They both laughed hard and loud, and the ginger cop said, “Good.”

Another siren broke the quiet, coming nearer and then stopping.  The dark-haired cop said, “The ambulance is here.”  Then quietly added, “Is it okay if I help you get your pants pulled back up?”  “Thank you,” I said weakly as I nodded.  The ginger cop held me steady while the other knelt down, straightened my twisted pants and pulled them up, fastening my belt.  The ginger cop said, “Can you zip up?”  I felt myself blush as I said, “Oh.. uh yeah.”  Just then two EMTs emerged from behind the dumpster with a stretcher.  One came over to me and looked my face over with a flashlight and asked, “Can you walk, sir?”  I said, “I think so.”  The ginger cop held me by one arm and the dark-haired cop held the other and helped me walk over to the stretcher.  I hadn’t realized until then that my legs ached and I felt a very fiery sting between my butt cheeks.  And my face hurt.  A lot.  They helped me lie down on the stretcher and one of the EMTs raised the end of the stretcher so I was sitting up while the other fastened the straps around me.  They checked me over, took my blood pressure and pulse, looked at my eyes, had me squeeze their fingers, and several other tests before they wheeled me to the ambulance.  They started rolling me toward the ambulance with the two cops on either side of me as the two cops who had saved me told the EMT what had happened.  When we got to the ambulance, before they attached the stretcher to the lift that would pull it up into the ambulance, the dark-haired cop looked down at me and said, “When you get to the hospital, they’re going to have to take some swabs from your face, and… from your backside, both for DNA, and also to test for any STIs.  They’re probably also going to want to x-ray your face.  I’m sorry.  That’s going to feel invasive and probably uncomfortable, but we want to make sure we get any evidence that will put a nail in his conviction.  As soon as we’re done at the station, we’ll be back to check on you.”  The stretcher rose and slid up into the ambulance, and the doors closed.