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Castro Bridge Mix #9: Picking Up Tricks

Nov 17, 2013

The St. Regis Hotel, San Francisco

Lyric’s November was definitely starting out with a bang. He turned to face this evening’s trick. “Yeah it’s very portable. Just like me, Master.” Lyrick smiled confidently despite the fact that he was cantilevering himself on a Door Jam Sex Sling while wearing a thick black leather dog collar. He barely managed to sit on the sling’s tiny cushion. He found the device ideal for hotel bathroom doorways when working with his more demanding clientele.

“You have a fucking awesome body, slave.” An older man known only as Mr. Smith ran his hands across Lyrick’s tight white tank top and snug white jockstrap.

“Thank you, Master. Do you want me to finish taking my clothes off for you?” Lyrick knew instinctively that he had to keep his wits about him for tonight’s assignment. He had been given a large upfront premium because this customer liked to play rough. Anything could happen with this guy.

“No.” The six-foot-eight bald man with a thick red beard swung Lyrick around while he was still suspended on the sling. He pulled out a switchblade knife and positioned its blade inches from Lyrick’s neck.  “Let’s start by getting you more comfortable.” Within seconds, the man had sliced off two of the straps to Lyrick’s jock.

Lyrick decided it was time to revisit the rules with his customer. “We play without the knife or we don’t play.”

“This night is for ten grand. If I wanted vanilla, I could buy it for a few hundred bucks. You knew what you were getting into.” He immediately cut another strap of Lyrick’s jock.

Lyrick flipped himself out of the sling and grabbed his duffel bag. He had been smart to anticipate the need to keep the rest of his clothes and his cash in the bag. “This session is officially over.”

“I want my money back. Now!” Mr. Smith raced to block the front exit.

“Of course. After all, the saying is the customer is always right.” Lyrick unzipped his duffle bag to yank out the cash he’d been paid earlier for tonight’s session. He knew he couldn’t think about the fact that he was butt naked with a dog collar around his neck and this guy had just sliced up his jockstrap with him still in it. He walked up to Mr. Smith and extended the cash that he had retrieved from his bag. As soon as Smith went for the money, Lyrick kneed him so hard in the nuts that the older man collapsed in front of him. “It’s a good saying about customers always being right. But it’s just not how I do business, Mr. Smith. Or should I say Congressman?” Lyrick always did his homework. There was no need to worry about Mr. Smith calling the cops on him. If word got out to his exceptionally conservative constituency about his sexual predilections while he was away from Capitol Hill, his political career would be over.

***

Mae’s

“And I trump your Ace with the two of hearts.” Kay Lam’s bone-white hand instantly swooped down on the table to claim the four cards or “trick” which had fallen under her control. Each trick brought her one step closer to winning.

Jensen forced herself to concentrate on the fan of playing cards she kept close to her chest while she felt Tell William’s scalding breath searing the side of her neck. She glanced at Dereck who had been too consumed with dating to provide her with an answer about her recent parenting proposition. “There’s no way they can make their contract.”

“What’s that saying about counting chickens and hatching, Missy?” Tell’s face lit up brighter than the San Francisco skyline which was framed in an enormous window behind their table.

Kay’s hands began accelerating as she mechanically pulled trick after trick until she made her contract giving her team the highest score. “Suck it, Jensen.”

Jensen waited patiently until Kay and Tell rose from the table to talk with Dereck. “Well, guess I shouldn’t bother to buy a Powerball ticket today.”

Dereck was so deeply in thought about his new romance with Lyrick that he barely heard her. Finally, he emerged from his mental fog. “I wouldn’t say your luck is all bad.”

“Let’s see. My ex comes in knocked up by a dude. I barely have enough to eat ‘cause I’m saving every penny to land a fixer. And I can’t play Bridge for two shits.”

“Yeah. I hear you. Ma.” He waited to see if she picked up what he was saying.

“Are you shitting me?” Jensen tried to reign her enthusiasm. She had a way of allowing her emotions overtake her like a freight train. Once they started to gather momentum she just couldn’t put a stop to them. He might have been joking with her.

Dereck nodded. “Nope. I’m for real. Let’s be co-parents.”

Lullabelle walked over to see why Jensen and Dereck were suddenly embracing as if this were the first time they had seen one another in thirty years. “What the fudge is happening over here?”

Dereck realized from Jensen’s expression that she wanted to keep it under wraps. “We just needed a mutual hug after the last round.”

Jensen tried to help Dereck’s paltry cover-up story with one of her own. “And I’m getting close to landing my dream fixer right here in the Castro.”

“Where?” The single word came from a wiry young African-American girl with braces, pigtails, and a pair of Google glasses over a star-shaped neon pink patch which covered her right eye.

“Where what?” Jensen had never seen the young girl at Mae’s before today. She had observed her standing with Lullabelle, but it had never dawned on her that she was there to actually play Bridge.

“I don’t believe we’ve formally met. I’m Astrid Merchant.” Astrid’s voice was magnificent and belonged more to a woman twice or even three times her age.

Jensen was taken back by the exceptionally poised and obviously precocious young girl. “Hi Astrid.  I’m Jensen. And this big goof over here is Dereck.”

“Y’all, Astrid is my new Bridge partner.” Lullabelle smiled with an all-knowing look as she put her arm around her young protege.

“I was actually inquiring about where your fixer is located.” Astrid refused to let her question go unanswered.

“In the Castro.” Jensen knew the rules of real estate. Never give away addresses before you have the contract nailed down. Even to a child.

Astrid smiled inwardly. “I see. There’s a fixer coming on the market on Diamond. Pale yellow and gray shutters. Hasn’t been touched in years.”

“How old are you?” Jensen’s mind raced as she realized this girl knew what house she had targeted.

“I’m twelve. I’ve been following San Francisco real estate for years. The house was just mentioned on sf.curbed.com today. Should be interesting to see the price per square foot on that one, don’t you think?” She handed Jensen her iPhone which was displaying the website and the recent feature she was discussing.

“Twelve?” Jensen tried to keep herself in balance. “Well, Lu.  Looks like you got yourself quite the partner. Sharp as a tack.” Jensen realized she would need alternative means to land her fixer.

****

Waffles felt someone watching him as he started to leave Mae’s. It had been a rather long game this night. It was pitch black outside as he fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. He accidentally pulled his phone out as it displayed a photograph of a butler carrying a tiny turd on a silver tray. It was the Pooh Butler. He was about to answer the phone when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see who it was. “What can I do for you, Lyrick?” He hadn’t even seen Lyrick at Mae’s tonight. He assumed that he had stopped by to meet Dereck.

Lyrick appeared like his mouth was in heavy labor as he pushed a few words out. “Dereck and I haven’t seen much of you.”

“My, my. It’s not always samplings from old pop tunes that springs forth, eh?” Waffles realized that the two of them were in a relatively dimly lot spot in the back of Mae’s.

“If you got to know me. Maybe–” Lyrick turned his most boyish grin on for Waffles.

“I know you, Lyrick. Believe me. I really know all about you.” He tried to force a smile and excused himself to get into his car. As he turned toward his car door, he felt a massive pair of hands clamping down on his shoulders. It felt like the nozzle of a gun was pressing up against his back.

Lyrick’s body could have been one of the marble statues watching from nearby. But his mouth opened very slowly allowing a few words to drip out. “You’d better you better you —.”

 

© Copyright 2013.  Will Morrison.  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.