Page 40 - Leather Blues

28 Jack Fritscher

naturally beautiful they were. They always had their preg-
nant pig in tow.
Denny picked at his lunch and toted it back to the pickup.
As he pulled open the cab, the suit pulled up alongside him.
“If you can take a compliment,” the man said, “you’re a
sexy guy.”
“That so?” Den swung up into the cab.
“Are you too rough?”
Den bit off the last of his dog. “I can be.”
“I’ll just bet you can,” the man said.
Den gave him a second look. The man’s voice sounded
like money. He might do okay some night. Better than cruis-
ing in the rain. “Hot today,” Den said. He tossed the fish the
line. He drained the mug of root beer.
The man got out of his car and took the empty mug. “Let
me get you another. A guy who works hard as you all day
better keep his fluids up.” The man’s hand slid into a tight
grope of Den’s crotch.
“No, thanks,” Den said. And he meant both the drink
and the grope.
The man pulled back. “You’d be rough with me? You’d
beat me and hurt me? You’d pull that heavy belt right out
of those denim loops and whip me? You’d tie me hand and
foot? You’d fuck me?”
“I’d gag you,” Den said.
“When?”
“Some cold day in June.” Den started up the truck.
“Shove off.”
“Please consider me,” the man said. He pushed his shak-
ing hand into his suit pocket.
Den pulled shut the door of the cab.
“Take my card,” the man said. “Come tonight at ten.
You don’t have to do anything but let me take your picture.
That’s all I want.”
“Workers get paid,” Denny said.

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