The Perils of Praline (16 page)

A bit self-consciously, Praline turned away from them and took off his clothes. As he pulled his pants down, he heard Dougie say, “Oh my God, Mommy, will you look at that ass. It’s amazing. Can I fuck it? Can I?”

There was another loud thwack. “No. Dougie knows what Mommy likes.”

“Yes, Mommy,” he replied with a little moan.

Noticing that condoms and lube had been laid out on the nightstand, Praline walked over and availed himself. As he slipped a condom over his aching erection, he pondered the fluid nature of human sexuality. Dougie, it seemed
,
would be quite capable of sex with…well, apparently anyone, regardless of which set of genitalia they happened to be endowed with. Praline considered himself far less flexible and realized he might have some trouble feeling sexy with a dominating woman in the room. He decided it best to close his eyes and focus on the image of Dougie’s ass.

Of course, the first thing he had to do was open his eyes so he could find his way over to the bed. Stepping behind Dougie, he lubed himself then set to work on his boss’s husband’s pink rosebud. Closing his eyes again, he slipped his finger into Dougie’s sphincter, feeling him clench and then relax. Praline’s cock rose a bit more. Entering Dougie, Praline exhaled deeply at the feel of the man’s ass around his prick.

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s it,” said Madison. “Fuck him with your thunder stick.”

Praline pushed into Dougie, again and again, holding an ass cheek in each hand.

“That’s it, yeah, give him your tumescence. Faster. Faster.”

Not completely sure what tumescence meant, Praline did understand the word faster so he obliged by fucking Dougie faster. From the moans and whimpering coming out of Dougie, it would seem he agreed with his wife’s command.

“Come on, pump him with your piston,” Madison exclaimed, obviously getting excited. “Stick him with that fuck-pole. Rip him up with your love truncheon.”

Praline tried not to pay attention to her, focusing instead on the sweet curve of Dougie’s buttocks and rhythmic clenching of his ass.

“Oh yeah, Dougie’s getting a pork enema, a ride on the pink pony…” and with that, Madison stepped over and gave Dougie two quick spanks with the riding crop.

“Yes, Mommy, Dougie’s being bad, really bad.”

Praline tried to ignore their love-talk by sticking his fingers in his ears and concentrating on the shockwaves running through Dougie’s fleshy buttocks each time he pounded into him. Little red welts began to form and looked like tiny surfers riding the waves…

“Oh gosh, I think I’m going to come,” said Praline.

“Do it on his ass,” Madison commanded. “I want to see it.”

Like a good employee, Praline followed his boss’s instructions. He pulled out and quickly ripped the condom off, then came in four thick spurts all over Dougie’s lusciously round buttocks. Madison stepped in and spread the come all over her husband’s ass.

A moment later, she was at the nightstand, pulling out a complicated strap and an embarrassingly large dildo.

“Congratulations, Praline,” she said. “You’re my new assistant.”

“What? Oh my God!” Praline exclaimed. “Jason got his promotion!?”

Madison guffawed. “No. If you like him, he can be the intern. Otherwise, just fire him. He’s never been as, well, cooperative as you are.”

“But—”

“No buts, that’s all you’re getting out of me. You understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She finished adjusting the strap-on to her satisfaction, looked at her husband, who was lying ass-up on the bed waiting for her, then back at Praline. “You’re done. You can leave.”

Praline couldn’t help but think she sounded as though he’d done some terrible thing to her. He grabbed his clothes and went into the living room to dress. As he walked out the front door, he heard Dougie moaning delightedly and Madison screaming about the meaty manroot she’d attached to herself.

As he descended in the elevator, Praline couldn’t help but think about the terrible predicament he was in. Not only had Jason done a whole bunch of wonderful things (not the least of which was saving his life twice) that he wouldn’t let Praline pay him back for
,
but now Praline had stolen the guy’s job. He’d harmed Jason when he should have been bending over backward to help him. Sure, he could give Jason the internship, but filing all day clearly wasn’t as exciting, or as important, as placing phone calls for Madison. It was clearly a demotion. He knew he should tell Jason as soon as possible but—how?

It was nearly eight o’clock so he called Jason to see if he still wanted to go out.

“Absolutely,” Jason said. “They’re having eighteen and over night at The Crush. You’ll be able to get in no problem.”

“Cool,” said Praline.

Jason wasn’t surprised when he found out Madison wasn’t giving Praline a ride home, he just muttered, “Typical.”

“So everything went all right with Madison?” Jason asked.

“Sure, why wouldn’t it?” Praline said, noncommittally.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Jason said, “I’ll explain later.”

Praline really hoped he wouldn’t.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Waiting on the street, Praline kept himself from worrying about how to tell Jason he’d stolen his job by worrying about what he’d wear to The Crush. Since losing his entire wardrobe he’d been borrowing clothes from Jason.  The white button-down shirt and chinos he’d worn to work weren’t going to cut it at a West Hollywood gay bar. He hoped Jason would bring him something sexy to wear. Except, Jason didn’t seem to wear sexy clothes. Oh, he dressed well, but Praline had never seen him in anything exactly sexy—except maybe for the pajama bottoms he’d been wearing when they met—so actually, Praline had never seen him
deliberately
wear anything—

What was he doing worrying about what he’d wear? He was about to ruin Jason’s life, did it matter what he’d be wearing while he did it? Well, it did a little. He imagined that when ruining someone’s life you wanted to dress well enough to convey respect, but not so well as to convey arrogance. Wait, maybe he wasn’t ruining Jason’s life. Jason wanted to be a director
,
and he wasn’t pursuing it because of his opportunities at Box Studios. Well, now he had no opportunities. This might be the best thing that ever happened to Jason.

Praline suspected he might not see it that way.

He was fantasizing about a chocolate milkshake and a piece of pecan pie when Jason pulled up in his mint-green Civic with the sad little dent in its hood. Praline gave a little wave and climbed in. Jason wore a tailored striped shirt and a dark pair of jeans. He hadn’t bothered to shave so there was a thick layer of stubble up to his cheeks. The clothes were ordinary, but still, he looked good. Really good.

“There’s stuff in the back for you,” Jason said.

Praline leaned into the backseat and found a pair of jeans and his “Eat A Peach” shirt. When he pulled them into the front seat, he realized there was something different about the shirt. He inspected it. “Where did the arms go?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Jason said with a little smile. “I thought it might look better that way.”

And Praline had to agree. “Good idea.”

He un-hooked his safety belt and began to change. As he flipped off his shoes and pushed down his chinos he felt his cheeks redden.
That’s weird
, he thought. There wasn’t any reason to be embarrassed changing in front of Jason. They were just friends. Still, he was glad he’d be keeping his Klevin von Cain’s on. As he took off the dress shirt he noticed Jason sneaking a peak at him. When Jason noticed him noticing, he looked away quickly. The
n
he looked back almost defiantly.

“You’re not shy are you?” he said. “I mean, you couldn’t possibly be shy. If you were shy you’d never have gotten into all the trouble you’ve gotten into.”

They stopped at a light and Jason turned to watch him full on. Praline quickly finished pulling his clothes on.

“I’ve seen you naked—several times. It never bothered you before.”

“Shut up, okay?” Praline snapped. He didn’t want to think about the blush on his cheek
s
and the best way to do that was to not talk about it.

They spent longer looking for parking th
a
n it had taken them to drive to West Hollywood. When they finally found a vaguely legal spot they had just enough time to grab a bite to eat before The Crush got busy.

As they waited for a couple slices of pizza, Praline knew he should fire his friend and soon-to-be former co-worker right then and there, but instead listened to him talk about all the things he wanted to buy when he got his promotion, “I think I want a new ipod or maybe a whole new computer. Or maybe, if my raise is big enough, I could buy a hybrid.”

Praline was so depressed by the situation he asked Jason to buy him a Spumoni. Taking a spoonful of the icy, sweet dessert, he asked, “I guess you go out a lot, don’t you?”

“I did for a while. It was fun, or at least I thought it was fun at the time. Then I realized I was doing a lot of crazy things. Things that weren’t really good for me.”

Praline had heard this kind of talk before, whenever he and his mother ran into a former client. It usually ended in a word that gave his mother the chills: rehab. “You’re talking about drugs, aren’t you?”

“No,” Jason laughed. “Nothing that crazy. I had this boyfriend for a while. Trevor. He’s a little bit older than I am. Really, really great guy, and…I sort of treated him like crap. Messing around with other guys and stupid shit like that. After the whole thing blew up, I started thinking about who I was and who I wanted to be, and they weren’t the same person.”

“So you
do
like sex?” There was more important information in what Jason had just said, but this
was
what Praline focused on.

“I’m not celibate because I don’t like sex,” Jason explained.

Praline remembered that he’d promised himself he’d put an end to Jason’s celibacy. Now he was excited about the evening. This was how he’d make it up to Jason for getting him fired. He’d get him laid.

Abruptly, as they walked from the restaurant to the club, Praline asked, “So what kind of guys do you like?”

Jason thought for a moment. “I’d like someone who challenges me, someone who is basically good though not perfect. I guess like most people I just want to feel needed.”

Praline cocked his head. “Um, I meant do you like blonds or brunets; do you like white guys or black guys; brown guys, yellow guys; muscle guys or bears; tall or short?”

Jason stared at him. “I’m really more about who someone
is
than what they look like.”

Praline wondered if Jason was really celibate by choice. “You know, you’ll never find anyone unless you have clear picture in your head what you want.”  Remembering the premise of the bestseller
The Key
, though he still hadn’t actually read the book, Praline decided to give Jason a lesson in how to bring love into
hi
s life by using the imagination. “Let me show you how it’s done. I’m looking for a guy around my age, a few years older maybe. He’s brunet with startling gray eyes. He has a dimple in his chin. He’s got some muscles but not too many. He’s tall—”

“Don’t you care at all what he’ll be like inside?” Jason interrupted.

“Anyone that beautiful outside has to be beautiful inside.”

“In what reality?”

Matching Jason’s tone of distain, Praline said, “You’re so lucky I’m here for you. Now, close your eyes and visualize—”

Ignoring him, Jason turned and walked into The Crush, which was actually a bar called Wrath. Putting an end to Praline’s boyfriend talk, Jason explained that The Crush was a floating club that was only there certain nights and certain other nights it was somewhere else. Entering the bar they saw that The Crush was sponsored by Complete Vodka, Big Willy underwear and Q-TV. There were banners everywhere saying so.

Jason went to the bar and got himself a Cape Cod and a cherry coke for Praline. When he came back, they sipped their drinks and studied the room. If Jason refused to decide what kind of guy he liked then Praline was just going to have to decide for him. Jason should definitely be seeing someone blond and smooth, Praline thought, to contrast his own dark hairiness.

Praline scanned the dance floor looking for blonds. Whoever Praline hooked Jason up with should be a true blond, or at least close. Skipping the obvious peroxide jobs left only about five guys in the club he could possibly hook Jason up with. One was ridiculously tall and would make Jason look like a midget; he was out of the question. Another wore a Klevin von Cain outfit that had to be at least three years old; too old to be fashionable but not old enough to be retro. Even though Jason wasn’t what you’d call handsome he still deserved someone fashionable. A third spun his arms around like a helicopter. That wouldn’t do. He wanted to get Jason laid, not decapitated.

Before Praline could figure out what was wrong with the other two, his attention shifted to a commotion nearby. He peeked around a few sweaty fashionistas to see what was going on and gasped when he realized he was looking at Harris Pilton. Harris Pilton surrounded by a group of admirers, both male and female. Praline couldn’t believe it. He turned and screamed at Jason, “Harris Pilton is here! I love him!”

The gossipmonger was very tall, unnaturally thin and had a smile like the keyboard on a baby grand. He dressed flamboyantly, sporting a brightly colored cashmere scarf through all sorts of weather and wearing clever T-shirts that said things like “Your Next Boyfriend” and “My Inner Child Needs A Spanking.” When Praline pulled out his phone and took a step forward to take a photo of the famous gossipmonger, Jason grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

“I want to meet him,” replied Praline. “Do you think he’ll take a photo with me?”

“Praline!” yelled Jason over the music. “You know what will happen if he recognizes you.”

“He won’t recognize me. My hair is blue.”

Jason tossed aside his empty Cape Cod and said, “Come on. Let’s dance.”

They walked onto the crowded dance floor and began to undulate to the music. Normally, Praline was an enthusiastic and daring dancer—having practiced extensively alone in his room—but the floor was crowded and too much enthusiasm might result in the felony assault of another dancer, leading Praline to restrict himself to a steady bounce and a few subtle hand movements. Jason, though, seemed quite familiar with crowds of this size and, keeping his movements in a small circle, managed to keep his hips swinging and his torso twisting attractively. Copying Jason’s moves, Praline relaxed and went with the music.