David in Prague
Tim Stewart
Published by Tim Stewart at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Tim Stewart
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Where locations are stated, this work does not infer any connection between the inhabitants of that location, past or present and the events mentioned in this book.
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DAVID IN PRAGUE
Jeff the Internet Prostitute - Teaser
David in Prague
David was a teenager and completely fed up with life. Born in a quiet town in eastern Czechoslovakia to a small poor family, he had no future. He left school 3 years before with no qualifications and no chance of finding any work. His education was meagre and he spent most of his time playing truant rather than learning. His teachers never worried about truants, to them education was not their main priority. Just surviving and having their monthly pay cheque was all that concerned them. His only hope of employment was at the town's dilapidated factory and this was unlikely, as the place was scaling down and laying off staff. Someone told him that there was another brand new factory; in a strange country unknown to him, far away to the East which was making the same things far cheaper. He did not know and did not really care. He just wanted something to do and some way of making money.
It was a cold bleak November and his family were hungry and freezing and couldn't afford to feed a son who had no prospect of helping their collective upkeep. Nothing appeared to be going right at all for him. Every morning he got up and walked up his lane, through the town and to the factory gates. He stood in line for the few jobs there and hoped against hope that one would be offered. Every time a job was announced, it was snapped up by another man, who looked more desperate than he did. He stood in that line for 3 years. Some of his fellow towns-people were in the line for a lot longer. He did make an occasional Crown or two doing odd job work, such as jobbing repairs around his area, but he was too small in stature for any serious labouring work, and he couldn't even find a job as tea boy for the builders. The money that he did scrape up was barely enough to pay for food for him, let alone cover anything towards the family expenses. He couldn't afford to move out from home, he couldn't afford to stay.
Now he was bored and hungry. He was cold and life was becoming harder. He was young looking (he looked about 15) and had a stature to match. This always counted against him in anything he did. His black hair could easily become an unruly mess, but at least he was spared the scourge of teenage acne. Perhaps his poor diet, which gave him his slight frame and small size, had one blessing. He had piercing dark brown eyes, which meant if you glanced at him, they made you look again. He found this annoying. He hated people looking at him; attention from others wasn't what he sought. Maybe because he was bullied by his fellow schoolmates and without the physical strength of his peers to fight back he rapidly became a loner. He was under-developed in many ways and was late coming into puberty. He dreamed of having a girlfriend but the girls ignored him, preferring instead the fitter, more developed boys. He had a very sparse thatch of pubic hair and a very small penis for his age. On the one occasion when he tried to have sex with a girl, she pulled down his pants. His penis, already erect with anticipation and excitement; bigger than it had ever been in his life; fully hard and pointing straight up; barely managed to display 4 inches of boy meat. Maria, his then girlfriend, took one look at his "baby cock" as she called it pulled her knickers back up and ran off laughing. He thought he would die of shame and the two of them never went out again.
He did however, have one close friend who never laughed at him. He was his confidant when things went wrong, his playmate and his best friend. Tomash was in the same class. He had poor eyesight but the family couldn't afford to buy him glasses, so he squinted a lot. He too had almost black hair as do most eastern Europeans, but he kept it well trimmed and smart. He too was small and had no prospects in the town. If anything, he attended fewer classes than David. The two of them were inseparable and they spent long hours in each other's company while standing in the job queue. David often looked at Tomash's cock while they were pissing and touched it a few times. He enjoyed the feeling in his own as Tomash touched his back and they both got hard together. Their young penises were about the same size, but Tomash hit puberty well before David. Once, years ago, when they were playing around down by the railway line, Tomash ejaculated while David was feeling his cock. David thought he did something terrible, as ejaculating was a disease old men had and not something young boys should do. After that, they never touched each other up by the railway line again. Nevertheless, when David started to have wet dreams, he remembered that day with Tomash and used to make himself cum thinking about the incident.
Tomash ran away a year ago and went to Prague searching for fame and fortune. David lost contact with him and this hurt him. His only friend had gone and he had no idea what to do.
So on this afternoon, this grey November, he arrived home from a normal day standing in the line at the factory gates and his Mother told him there was a letter for him. She was a small lady, with a big heart, but a very forgetful mind. She pulled the crumpled envelope out of her discoloured apron pocket and gave it to him. He was barely able to read, and he couldn't dream who would write him a letter. He took the cream coloured envelope from her and went into his room. Tearing it open, he pulled out two pieces of paper. A cream coloured piece of writing paper that matched the envelope and a carefully folded 1000 Crown note. Imagine his surprise when he unfolded the writing paper and saw the name on the bottom - Tomash.
Tomash wrote quite well in this note, better than David thought he should. Perhaps he learned something after he left the town. This letter was hard for David to read using some long words he found impossible to understand, but he understood the gist of it. It seemed that Tomash was having a great time. He met some nice friends from Germany and went on a holiday there. He was making money (although the letter did not say how) and there was the 1000 Crown note, carefully folded in the letter, as a present for David. The letter said that he should forget about trying to find a job in his town and head out to Prague. He said he would wait for him every day at six in the evening at Hlavni Nadrazi, the main railway station on the balcony above the ticket office. He said he would start waiting on the 17th and stop on the 30th. If David hadn't come by then, Tomash would have to find another friend. What did he mean? Find another friend? David was his closest and best friend. There could be no question of his not taking up this adventure. He had money. One thousand Crowns would buy him a ticket and food, and a new pair of jeans, a new coat, a motor scooter, and a mobile phone - his mind raced. Well - it would buy him the ticket anyway. The rest would follow. Tomash said he had a phone and gave David his number, but in 1999, mobiles were so rare and expensive that David only dreamed of one. Yet Tomash had one. And what did he mean, ‘Find another friend'?
David asked his mother what the date was. She said it was the 29th. She told him that she had the letter for a few days but forgot it. He dare not tell her what it said, but he knew in his mind what he was going to do. He found his old school rucksack, small and battered, stuffed unloved in a corner. But today it was his suitcase to paradise. He gathered a few things; a spare set of threadbare underwear that his mother just washed; one spare tee shirt, too small but it would have to do. His coat was old and thin too, but in the Czech winter, it was all he had to keep warm. He put them all in his rucksack and hid it in the corner of his room. The time for action would come later this evening. He was ready.
His father came home from work at the factory, opened the old fridge, and pulled out a barely cold beer. David hated his father and immediately went up to his bedroom so he could avoid him. His father was a wiry man, lean and muscular and not at all like David, who was in his father's words, "soft". The old man was the sort of person who if you saw in the street on a dark evening you would cross the road to avoid. He had a hard face, chiselled by years of toil and work and scarred from knife fights. He sported a broken nose and suffered many other injuries in fights before now. He also had a dishonourable past, having on more than one occasion been caught by the police for stealing and taking the consequences. He was another one who bullied the boy and he did worse things too. When David he was young he used to beat him any chance he could get, but when he was about 10, his father went away. He learned later he went to prison for theft. He dreaded his coming back, but a year later, when David was 11, this happened. Much to David's surprise, on the first night his father was around again he wasn't beaten. Instead, when the house was quiet, and everyone was in bed, his drunken father came into his bedroom.
David shared a room with his younger brother, Jaroslav. The younger brother was fast asleep and the old man told him in a beer smelling whisper to be very quiet or he would beat him so hard he would kill him, and then proceed to kill Jaroslav. He was devoted to his brother, so with this threat hanging over his head, he lay still and kept silent.
When the man took off his trousers and climbed into bed with him, he said nothing. Even when he did things to David that were so painful he thought he would die, he said nothing. Every night after that his father got into the bed, pulled up the boy's nightshirt and abused him. This went on for about 4 years. His father would come home, drunk and sleep through the evening downstairs. David would go to bed and his father would wake up. David would be abused at night and sweet, innocent Jaroslav would sleep. David was glad that his brother was spared this torment. After some time though the pain lessened and he almost started to like it. He was developing a special bond with his father. He was avoiding being beaten and he was protecting his brother. Then one night, when David was 15, his father came into the room, very drunk and knocked over the light. Jaroslav woke up and saw the old man without any trousers or underwear. His 6" tool hard and bare in the moonlight that came through the uncurtained window. Instead of climbing into David's bed, the old man climbed into Jaroslav's. David saw him put his head close to his brother's ear and whisper something. He saw him pull up his brother's nightshirt and saw Jaroslav shaking. He heard the muffled groan, stifled by the old man's hand pressed over the boy's mouth, and knew at once, what was happening. His one special bond with his father was broken and his secret shared with another.
The following day the old man came home from work. Already drunk, he opened the fridge looking for beers and found there were none. He saw David and before he could escape, the old man cornered him. He took his thick, black leather belt out of the loops on his filthy trousers, and proceeded to beat him savagely. For the first time in 3 years, he lost his special place in his father's mind. The boy was expendable. Since that day, the beatings were a regular feature in David's life. It was only a matter of time before he was thrown out of the home or killed by his father.
So when David received the letter, 1000 Crown and an invitation, he didn't waste a second. As soon as the house was dark, and before his father came in to Jaroslav, he gathered up his rucksack and left. He crept past the sleeping monster downstairs and silently left the house. As he closed the door, he spat on the doorstep and vowed he would never return. It wasn't far to walk to the railway station and David thought there might be a late train there to take him away. This would deliver him to Prague and his friend. However when he arrived the station was closed and dark. There was to be no escape train. He walked through the old station buildings and came to the tracks. He saw the trains coming through here before and knew they slowed down when they went through the station. He waited and after an hour, he heard one coming. His heart was racing. There was no prospect of going home, his father would be there waiting for him. His belt already out of its loops and waving in the air looking for David's hide. The train was slowing. It was coming closer and closer. As the engine drew level with him, the fugitive started running. He never ran so hard in his life. The carriages were passing him. Things were happening at breakneck speed. His life was becoming a blur. Finally, when he thought his lungs would burst and his legs fail, a gap between two carriages drew level with the exhausted boy. David launched himself into the air and caught hold of a metal rail. He was hanging on for dear life as the train started to speed up and carry the boy off into the night. He wedged himself into the gap, held on to the outside of the train and locked his arms. It was going to be a long ride into Prague.
Two hours later, the train stopped at last. David had never been to the capital city, but he saw the sign as the train drew in - Hlavni Nadrazi. He had arrived. The station clock said it was just before midnight and he guessed that the 18 hours until his friend arrived would be the longest he would ever wait. Little did he know just what they held in store for him? He found an old tarpaulin in one corner of the station. It stank of piss and old age, but he didn't care. He was free from the tyranny of his father, the bullying of his fellows and the no-hope existence he had at home. He was in Prague, and was about to start a new life. He climbed under it and fell asleep.
When he awoke, it was morning. He walked to the station toilet and went in. He started to wash in the basin, but he noticed a small man with piggy eyes behind thick glasses looking at him. The man had a bald head and a pot belly pushing his clothes out so far, that it looked like he was wearing a tent, and not a coat. He had a grin, which was so put-on and forced, you might think it was painted on his face. David immediately disliked him. There was something shifty about his appearance. Perhaps the old raincoat he was wearing, or the holes in the knees of his trousers should have acted as warning signs, but David didn't know at this point what to think. The man said something in German (which David didn't understand), and held out a 1000 Crown note. This was the second time in two days he saw one of these and a sense of excitement filled him. Maybe the streets of Prague had them lying all around and that's why Tomash was doing so well - he was just picking up the notes off the street. The man beckoned to David and so, cautiously yet obediently, he trotted after him.
They left the station and got into a taxi. The man took him to a street filled with tall, dilapidated apartment buildings, not far from the centre of the town. The block the man entered was, possibly, the shabbiest in the entire road. The front door was hanging off its hinges, the paint was peeling off the walls and there was a distinct smell of urine in the hallway. They walked up innumerable flights of stairs to get to the man's door. Once inside the apartment, David barely noticed just how old and smelly it was, and if he did, he didn't care. There was no carpet on the floor and no furniture at all in the first room. The paint on the walls was peeling and the one shutter on the window was flapping against the wall. There was no need for curtains, as the windows were so dirty no one could have seen in or out anyway. The man went into another room, David guessed was a kitchen, and came back with a glass of beer. The glass was smeared and greasy, but David was thirsty, so he wolfed it down. The drink, although warm, quenched his thirst. The man showed him a bedroom and pointed at the bed. David was suddenly very tired. He guessed he hadn't slept as well under the tarpaulin as he thought. The bedroom was empty apart from a small single bed. He climbed onto the bare, stained mattress and wasn't really surprised when the man climbed on after him. Even when the man stripped him off and started talking softly in his ear in German, David didn't flinch. Even when the man took off his own trousers and exposed his small penis, smaller even than the boy's, David didn't flinch. Even when the man, blowing stinking stale breath into his face started kissing him, David didn't flinch. His father's years of training served him well and he thought this was the most normal thing on earth.
The one thing David couldn't understand was why he was so tired. He wouldn't have resisted, but he was finding more and more he couldn't resist. He slowly drifted off to sleep as the man started to finger his arse, he knew what would follow, but he didn't care; all he wanted to do was sleep.
When he awoke, it was a long time later and he was alone. His arse was sore - more so than when his father abused him - and his cock and balls ached. There were red marks on his nipples and there were spots of blood adding to the rings and other stains on the mattress. He didn't know what happened, but he was suddenly scared. He grabbed up his clothes and looked for the 1000 Crown note that was offered to him. It was nowhere to be seen. There was no trace of the man, or anything that might have belonged to him. The apartment was empty, except for in the kitchen, one empty beer bottle, a filthy glass and a small medicine bottle next to it. He searched through his own things. His 1000 Crown note was still tucked into his underwear in his rucksack, and everything appeared to be there. He dressed and left as quickly as he could. He was glad to leave the putrid, decaying atmosphere and back into the fresh air.
He made his way cautiously on foot, back to the station. It wasn't too far and he found it quickly. Once inside he headed for the tarpaulin, determined to wait out for Tomash. He could explain what happened and his friend would help him. While he was walking across the platforms, he saw a group of boys. They looked about the same age as David, and although several of them appeared to be as small as he was, two looked much bigger, tougher and stronger. The boys cornered him.
"Where've you come from?"
"What're you doing here?"
"Have you got any money?"
"Have you met any men yet?"
The questions came at him thick and fast. He didn't know the boys and couldn't answer some of the questions. He didn't understand the word "fagot" they kept shouting at him. He was faltering. It was all going wrong. He was anxious and didn't know what to say. The questions kept coming, and although he tried to answer them, he couldn't keep up. The boys surrounded him and jeered at him, poking him, bullying him. Then one of the bigger lads punched him hard in the mouth. His lip split and he fell over backwards. As the blood started to trickle down his chin, they seized his rucksack containing everything he owned in the world and ran off. David sat down bleeding and crying. All of a sudden, paradise slipped away.
He was now homeless, hurt, broke, friendless and confused. His life was in tatters and he didn't know what he should do. He crawled under the piss-sodden tarpaulin and, for the first time in years, started to cry.
When evening approached, he cautiously put his head out and looked around. He had red eyes and bloodstains on his chin, but when he saw the station clock said 17.55, he cheered up a little. He was about to meet up again with Tomash. ‘On the balcony above the ticket office' the letter said, so that's where David headed. He was to spend long hours in the future at this location, but he didn't know that yet. When he arrived, he looked around and quickly spotted his long-lost mate. He ran over to him as fast as he could, and they embraced like the friends they were.
"I thought you wouldn't come," said Tomash, as his friend beamed at him, "I've been waiting here for days. This was to be the last day." David tried to talk, he tried to tell Tomash about jumping on the train, about the piggy-eyed man, about the boys, but the words were obscured by floods of tears and sobs. All of a sudden, all the pain of his life was coming out and Tomash was carrying it and soothing it away. He stroked his unruly hair and comforted him. He hugged him and promised everything would be all right. They went over to a water fountain, and using an old tissue, Tomash helped David clean himself a little.
After David gained a little composure, the two of them walked around a corner to the station bar and Tomash introduced David to an older man. The man was also German, but spoke a little Czech and he said his name was Philip. Philip was only the second German David met and he didn't know what to make of him. He was about 45, very well built (an unkind man would say podgy) and balding. He had a small goatee beard but was well dressed in smart clean clothes and had a kind face. He said he would look after David and take him to a hotel he owned. He said he needed young looking boys and would make sure that David was happy. David didn't understand how he would be happy, or what the German needed the boys for, but he was with Tomash and he didn't look afraid. His friend was well dressed; his clothes looked new; he was well fed and clean. Something was going right, but David did notice Tomash kept looking from side to side, as if he was on the lookout for something or someone. He was to learn in the end he was looking for police, but for now, he was just happy to be with his mate.
They got into a taxi and went to the hotel. It was by the banks of a river and, unlike the last place, David visited in Prague; it was in a nice part of town and was well kept. The garden at the front had neatly trimmed grass and there were flowers growing up the hotel's walls. It looked freshly painted and David actually felt safe here. When they arrived, they went through the reception and into a lounge. There was a plush red carpet on the floor and a number of soft looking, brown leather sofas. There was a bar in one corner and a fruit machine. He noticed that there were many boys in the bar. They all looked about his age, and they all looked happy. Some were playing the fruit machine; others were sitting around on the sofas, talking to older men. One was actually kissing a man - in a hotel! The boy had a lot to learn.
As time went on, David soon learned the ropes. Hang around at Philip's hotel. Talk if he could to the men who arrived as guests. If he were very lucky, one would take him to his room and give him some Crowns for sex. Sometimes the sex was rough and sometimes painful, but by Czech standards, the pay was great. He could earn a month's money for one night's work. Philip charged him for staying at the hotel in a small room, and David had to buy his own food and beer when he wasn't with customers. But he was soon earning money of his own. He bought a mobile phone. He bought some new clothes. He noticed many of the boys were spending a lot of money on drugs, but he resisted this. Why or how no one knows, but he stayed clean. Maybe it was due to the first night when he was there and Tomash offered to inject him.
The boys' room was small, and on the top floor, but it was clean. There was a single bed and a chair, not much else. It had a single unshaded light bulb, and it was cold in the winter, but at least it was dry. When a few boys shared the small room, it warmed up from their body heat. Sometimes two of them would sleep in the single bed, and others would sleep on the floor or in the armchair. Sometimes they would all try to sleep on the bed and no one would manage as they all had only a few inches of room. Occasionally David would have the room to himself with just Tomash. These were the nights David liked best. They would talk and play and remember the time by the railway tracks when David touched up Tomash. David always needed tissues to clean him up after these evenings.
Anyway, this first evening, the boys went upstairs and David watched in horror as Tomash took off his sock. From his rucksack, he took out a small bag containing a syringe, a spoon and a small plastic bag with some powder in it. David was scared of needles and looked on in terror as Tomash heated the spoon over a lighter and melted some of the powder on it. Then he drew it up into the syringe and injected himself between his toes. After a while, he turned white and slipped into unconsciousness while David watched on.
‘No,' he thought, ‘this is not for me.'
When money was short, he would sell his phone. He could make a good price for it, as it was a brand new model. There was a shop by the side of the main station, which specialised in buying and selling mobiles. If you were short of money, you took your phone in and they bought it from you. You kept the SIM card and so you kept your number. When you had money again, pop back down to the station-side shop and buy another phone - or more likely your old one back again. You would pay twice the price you received when you sold it. Life can be hard when money is short. This usually held him over until the next customer. But sometimes money was so short he couldn't even afford the cheap room at Philip's. Then he would sleep on the all-night bus, going round in circles. It was cold on the bus and uncomfortable. And you always had to have one eye open for the ticket inspectors, who would throw you off if they caught you. They would threaten to report you to the police, but a kiss and a favour in the darkness by the deserted bus stop after the bus left usually kept you out of that sort of trouble.
Sometimes he would go back to the railway station and hang around on the balcony above the ticket office. Here he would meet men who would take him back to their apartments. But he never took their beer, and he never saw the piggy-eyed German with the thick glasses again. He even learned to dodge the gangs of boys who went around "queer bashing" and taking money from the new boys. He saw several lads, fresh from the country arrive at the station, just as he had, and he would try to find them before the thugs. Some he took to Philip. The hotel owner liked this and paid him a few Crowns for the introduction to the boys. He even wrote a letter to another friend he had in his old town, but although he hung around for two weeks at 6 pm, the friend didn't turn up. At least Philip had given him some cream coloured notepaper, a matching envelope, the 1000 Crown note to put in the letter and told him what to write.
One day, David was quite down on his money and he even pawned his phone. He was counting the Crowns and wondering if he had just enough to afford the small room for the night when a new customer came into the hotel. The man looked over at David and was immediately captivated by his eyes. He looked a second time and walked straight across the room to him. He said his name was Wayne and he had just flown in from England. He was about 40 and clean-shaven. He was quite slim and well dressed. He was just starting to go bald. He wore glasses, which were in proportion to his face, but he wore them perched on the end of his nose, which gave him a scholarly look. He had a large suitcase and booked a room at the hotel for a week. It wasn't his first time there, but it was the first time he had seen David. The man knew what to do, what was on offer to him and what he was expected to do in return. He approached David before David could walk over to him. Even though the man didn't speak Czech, he spoke German. David picked up a few phrases in his time at Philip's hotel and so the two of them could just about communicate.
Wayne bought David dinner and suggested he spent the night with him. The Englishman wasn't like the other customers the boy had. He didn't try to fuck him, and he didn't want to play with his penis. In fact, he didn't even want David to strip naked. He just wanted to hug the boy and sleep with him. David immediately liked Wayne and cuddled into him, spooning the whole night away. In the morning, he gave him some money and said goodbye as he went out to visit the city. David was quite disappointed as he had a good time and would have liked to stay longer with Wayne. Imagine his surprise when Wayne came back to the hotel, immediately walked over to the boy, and presented him with a new shirt and jeans.
Wayne sat him down and carefully and slowly in simple German said he had a great night, slept very well and wanted David to spend the next 6 days with him. He offered him a small amount of money, but to be honest the boy would have given up the week free. In fact, he would have paid Wayne to stay. This meant he had a guaranteed room, guaranteed food, drink, and someone kind and safe. Here was someone who had no interest in hurting him, abusing him and just wanted warmth and comfort at night and company by day. The two spent the whole week together. David took him sightseeing in the daytime and to the good restaurants he knew in the evenings. David was taken to a few good places by other clients and he was happy to share them with Wayne. After all, how often does a street boy dine at a five star restaurant?
They went to the zoo (which David loved) and the opera (which David hated). They went to old castles (O.K.) and to museums (boring). They went on a train into the countryside to see an old town (interesting) and even went shopping (the best!). And despite Wayne offering to take David back to his old home town if he wanted to see his mother and brother, David declined the offer. They talked about Pokemon and Dracula and listened to pop songs and, and, and - the week just sped by. All too soon, it was time for Wayne to go. He gave David more money than he originally offered as a present for being such great company. They swapped mobile numbers and David managed to pawn his phone back from the shop by the station before Wayne went so they could stay in touch. Wayne bought David some more new clothes, said he would be back in two months, and wanted to spend more time with him.
While Wayne was away, the unthinkable happened. Tomash left. It happened one night. They went up to the boys' room in the hotel. He got out his kit from his bag and taken off his sock. Then he injected himself between his toes and started turning white. He told David that he felt sick and went into the tiny bathroom. David sat and listened while he threw up noisily in the toilet. He saw this before and wasn't too worried. He still wasn't worried when Tomash didn't come out. He usually fell asleep or passed out after he injected himself. But when he needed the toilet himself and went in, what he saw terrified him. The toilet bowl was filled with blood and vomit. Tomash was sitting on the floor, propped up by the side of the bowl and had his head back against the cistern. There was a trail of vomit down the front of his chest and in his lap. David felt Tomash and he was very cold.
He immediately went and found Philip, who felt for a pulse on Tomash's neck. He said they had to take him to hospital. He told David to go downstairs and into the main road where the hotel's driver parked their taxi. David rushed as fast as he could down the stairs and out of the building and went to find the cab. The driver went upstairs and, quietly so as not to disturb any of the other guests, the three of them carried Tomash's cold limp body down the stairs. Philip said something to the driver and gave him a large wad of money. The driver sped away and disappeared. Philip then told David not to mention Tomash again, and he never saw him. He thought he knew what happened, but he was too scared to talk about it. He knew boys who disappeared before.
Then the day came when Wayne came back. David was as excited as he could be. He showered and washed his hair so it smelled nice. He put on a clean set of clothes - the ones Wayne bought for him the last time - and he waited. Finally, the Englishman arrived, his plane was late and he was worried that David wouldn't be there. "As if I wouldn't wait," David thought. "I'd have waited for ever to see this man again." He brought with him a large stuffed bear as a present for David. The boy was delighted. He loved this toy and they named it "Pikachu" after their Pokemon hero. It was about 12 inches tall and bright yellow. The three of them slept together every night. Wayne slept on the outside of the spoon, David slept "in the middle" and Pikachu slept cradled in his lap. He felt happier than at any time before. They had the greatest time together. They went to many of the old haunts, including the zoo (but not the opera) and many new places. Wayne offered once again to take David to see his mother, even guaranteeing him he would be safe from his father, but David didn't want to go back to his old life and asked Wayne not to talk about it as it was too painful to remember. The Englishman even visited an Estate Agent, telling David that he might buy a flat in Prague and ask David to move in with him full time. They talked about plans and the future and a small ray of hope for a better life arose in David's heart.
However all too quickly, the week ended again. Now David had a dilemma. He had one new, but still small rucksack, which had in it his two spare sets of clothes, a small thin coat, a toothbrush, a few small items such as his phone charger and that was all. These, on their own, filled the rucksack. If he kept the bear, it would mean leaving everything else out. So he gave the bear back to Wayne to bring out next time. The affluent Englishman with his large suitcase and many changes of clothes couldn't understand this at first. He asked why and using gestures, the poor lad explained. The man smiled kindly and knowingly and said he understood. He took the bear back and promised to bring it out again two months later. David said he could hardly wait. In his heart, he wept gently as he stood on the front step of the hotel. He waved at Wayne as he left in the taxi for the airport, smiled, and tried to look brave, but there was moisture in his eyes and a real shiver of foreboding ran through his soul.
David looked across the road and saw a black car parked in the street opposite with tinted windows. There were two shadowy men in it and he thought he saw one of them men with a camera with a big zoom lens pointing at the hotel.
No more than an hour after the taxi left, two black armoured minibuses drew up outside the hotel. The police arrived. They arrested everyone at the hotel. They took away all the guests, Philip and the boys. The guests paid a fine and were let out quickly by the police. No charges were pressed against any of them. Philip spent 9 months in jail and when he was let out, left Prague for good. Some of the boys were let out immediately, but the younger ones were kept for a while before social services sent them back to their hometowns. And David? Well it would be nice to say this story had a happy ending. Something like Wayne sending money and flying him to England where they would live happily ever after. But in truth, Wayne was scared and didn't go back to Prague for a very long time. He never contacted David again. In his heart, to this day, he still carries a flame for the boy who gave back his bear.
Thank You
THANK YOU
I really am grateful for the time and trouble you have gone to reading my book. If you appreciated it, you might like to know there are more stories coming up very soon. I've written fourteen short gay stories and they will all be published on Smashwords shortly.
Check out my websites to read more and please subscribe to my mailing list. Then I can send you notification when the next tale emerges.
Thanks again
Tim
About the author:
I live in Amsterdam. I've been here for over six years now and I love it. The gay scene has reduced from the heady days of the nineties and the early part of the last decade, but it's still vibrant.
I've had a number of jobs, but now I write as a living. These gay short stories are just a prelude before I write my first gay adventure novel. You'll have to wait for that.
I'll leave it for you to decide. Are the short stories autobiographical? Are they pure fiction? Are they stories about people I know? I'm not saying. That would spoil the fun. I enjoyed writing them and hope you enjoy reading them.
Now for those of you who have enjoyed this tale, there's a short teaser from the next story about Jeff in London. Enjoy.
Connect with Me Online:
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/GoScoutTim
My website: http://flyinglemmings.com/
Jeff - the Internet prostitute in London
26th August 2008 – 2.30 am
There was an almighty crash. The brand-new juicer that was harmlessly sitting on a melamine topped counter only a fraction of a second earlier, found itself flying into the window across the tiny hallway, which doubled as a kitchen. The window it collided with didn’t break, although only divine providence and a great deal of luck held the ancient glass together. 21-year-old Jeff’s cocaine induced rage just exploded and he just propelled the juicer at the nearest wall – spectacularly missing everything brick and hitting glass instead. “FUCK OFF” he screamed. “YOU FUCK OFF” screamed back George. “This is my house; you’re my guest; you don’t pay any rent; YOU FUCK OFFFFFFF.” Jeff stomped down the uneven stairs, threw his keys behind him into the narrow hallway and left slamming the outside door as he went. It was suddenly silent. Immediately George felt regret. At 47 he ought to know how to keep his temper better, but Jeff, a mere 21 year old just about pushed every button George possessed. George knew Jeff would be alright. He had stomped out before. But this time was different. He thought it was Jeff’s first time on cocaine and it hadn’t gone well. Earlier George knocked on his room’s door and found him half-comatose inside. Simon, his so-called friend and drug dealer beat a hasty retreat and left. George didn’t allow this piece of vermin in the house. He had some standards. That’s when things started to go downhill. “Why did you let him in?” asked George. “None of your business” replied Jeff (push button one – it was George’s house – it was his business). “You know I don’t like him.” “Shut it granddad, he’s been looking after me since I was 15” (push button two – he hated being called granddad). “Are you OK?” “Like you care” (push button three – he cared very much indeed). After that, things just dissolved into a verbal firestorm of hate and abuse. A great deal was said which doesn’t need to be written here, but the final straw was when Jeff screamed,
“You’re just a fat ugly child molester.”
“You’re just a thieving whore,” whirled back the reply. That’s when Jeff lost it completely, and the juicer discovered it could fly, wondering in mid air, while crossing the kitchen, how juicers normally land. George picked up his mobile phone. He knew Jeff wouldn’t answer. He never did when he stomped out. But he couldn’t leave it. No answer. So he sent a text message. It just said one word. “Sorry”. He said this a few too many times and he knew it. He wasn’t sorry. Not sorry at all for the things he’d said. Not sorry for the way he acted. But by putting himself down, Jeff would feel he won and maybe come back. George went to bed. It was after all 3 am. He didn’t sleep. He knew he wouldn’t. Not while the love of his life was wandering the streets alone. Finally, at six, he heard a soft knocking on the back door. He dropped Jeff’s keys out the window and turned over. He could sleep at last.
16th September 2005 – 6 pm
Rewind three years. Let's look at the situation before the juicer was even designed. Jeff was an Internet prostitute. He was very good looking, in fact, one might say cute. He was short, about 5’ 4” tall and very thin. If anyone asked, he said he had an eating disorder. Weighing in at only 6 stone, he sported a 22” waist, which many of his friends envied. He had dark brown hair, which he always kept very tidy, spending long hours “doing it” in the mirror. His eyes were dark brown in colour. Like pools of glistening oil, they glinted when seen in candle light; the romantic setting Jeff liked best. He was a snappy dresser, although as we shall see he had difficulty getting clothes to fit. He had a Gaydar profile, but not a commercial one. So he had to make implications about his services rather than be explicit. The age on his profile said he was 18, which, unusually, was actually true. George on the other hand was hardly a picture or a “catch”. He was overweight to the point of being obese and sported an ever-growing potbelly. His hair started to recede when he was 20 and now was well past the point of no return. He wore glasses that didn’t suit him and usually had scruffy clothes, preferring a tee shirt and jeans to anything else. He had calloused hands that implied a hard life, but really only worked in the service industry all his life. Now he was working as a manager of a small shop in part of a small chain. He hated the job and took every chance he could get and spent every spare pound he could raise on entering the fantasy world of rent boy sex. He too had a Gaydar profile, and used it to hunt for lads who wanted some money for favours. The age on his profile said he was 39, but it said this for the last 5 years. This day he couldn’t believe his luck. He sent the usual message to a boy, the message he stored in a text file on the desktop of his computer. ‘Hi you look nice – fancy a chat sometime? I have msn and yahoo’. He would frequently send out over a hundred of these messages in a session, very seldom getting a reply. Usually, when he did, he either put up with abuse (‘im not a rent boy fuck off you old fagot’) or a reminder of his approaching senility (‘you asked me the same thing yesterday and the answers still no’). Surprisingly this time he actually got a civil reply. What’s more, after exchanging a few messages, the boy agreed to meet. George was amazed and couldn’t believe his luck.
You can read the rest of this story and find out what happens to George and Jeff at Smashwords.