Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters or products named in this story.
Warning: This story contains mention of prostitution, group sex, violence, m/m orgies
and one wild raccoon. HAU.
Summary: Xander is a male prostitute. It is his chosen occupation and he is very
happy with it. One night he takes on a group of clients with a friend and things
do not go as planned. When his friend is found murdered, homicide is called in.
Spike is a brilliant detective with OCD issues. When he is told to hide out in the
woods with the witness to protect, he gets more than he could have imagined.
Special thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banners, the story idea and for holding my
hand during the writing.
Xander wiped his sticky hand off on the paper napkins that littered the floor
of the Ford Mustang. He then dropped them back down and stuffed the money
in his pocket. With no conversation between them, Xander climbed out of the
passenger's side and slammed the door behind him.
He had known from the minute this one had approached him that the man's
shame was like a third body in the car with them. It crowded and insulted them
both with it's silent condemnation. The john had paid in advance and wanted
nothing more than a hand job given by a handsome young man.
Xander didn't comment or even acknowledge the small card clipped to the back
of the sun visor. The picture I.D. identified the driver and recipient of the monkey
spanking as one Reverend James O'Brien. Xander didn't care. Money from the
collection plate spent as well as any other.
When he was finished, he left and the good pastor spun away from the curb
and the boy whore as fast as he could. Xander just shrugged and counted his
night's take. It was nearly sun up and he had had an amazingly profitable evening.
Seemed like half the city was horny tonight.
Taking his hat off, Xander ran his fingers through his long dark hair before
perching the hat back on his head and starting the short walk back to his small
Before he had gotten two blocks, he could hear his name being called and he turned
around. He had already decided if it was another john, he would pass. He was tired,
hungry and had closed up shop.
"Hey, Xan, fuck you walk fast. Didn't you hear me? Fuck, I been calling your fuckin'
name since Page street. Fuck!"
Xander lifted his face to look at the tall, lanky boy who was trying to catch his breath
and talk at the same time. Xander subtly tucked his handful of bills in his pants before
his friend could spot it. They were buds but nothing ruined a friendship like money.
"Catch your breath. Damn, Joe Blow. What?"
Joe Bellows put a hand at his burning side and he straightened up trying to catch
his breath. Joey was a nice Catholic boy from the East side who had found himself
living on the streets due to a combined medical issue of ADHD and sticky fingers.
It seemed that Joe couldn't concentrate on anything but what he was stealing at
the moment. His Father, the cop, was embarrassed, to say the least.
"Hey, I got a hell of a deal for you. You know the Expo Center is having that Import/
Export show this week, well I got a call about some guys wantin' a stack and pack.
Course right away I thought of you. My good Buddy. My Pal. What do you say?"
Xander's brow wrinkled along with his nose. He had mixed feelings. A stack and
pack was an orgy. Usually a group of older, society-straight middle aged men who
suddenly find themselves in a town where no one knows them. Anonymity is
apparently a hell of an aphrodisiac. They like to rip loose, getting high snorting
coke and poppers and living out all their wildest fantasies doing the dirty with
bodies of young men.
The money was good, but sometimes things got out of hand. Men like that can flip
like a switch. It's all good when they are standing around circle jerking and
watching each other butt fuck the firm young ass of a boy whore but once all
wads have been shot, the second thoughts, fueled by macho posturing kick in
and things can get ugly.
"I don't know, Joe. Last time........"
"Ah, come on Xan. Last time was a bunch of car salesmen and you know what
pricks they can be. Hell, we got paid anyway didn't we?"
"Fuck, yeah we got paid. We got fuckin' paid cause after the short one broke
your nose, I pulled a razor out of my boot and held it to his throat till the others
Joe laughed at the memory and Xander had to join him. The sight of those four
balding, flabby middle aged men all standing around buck naked and scared to
death that the cops would come over if their friend was killed caused them to not
only pay, but offer a tidy tip. Fear of embarrassment was a hell of an incentive.
Still, Xander wasn't convinced.
"Shit, Joe. You know them S&P parties can take all night. They pay good but
by the time we get out, it's too late to do any other business. How much they offering?"
Joey could see his friend wavering and he knew he had him.
"Hold on to your socks, Buddy. There will be four of them, just the two of us,
and they are offering us $500. A PIECE!"
Xander's mouth fell open and he took a step back.
"$500? What the fuck do they want us to do? Swing by our dicks from the
chandeliers? Come on now Joe, that don't smell right."
Joe Blow fidgeted, a sign that he hadn't had his daily hit of heroin, and he rubbed
his hand over his face. Xander knew, with out a doubt, why Joey needed the money
but he let his friend continue his sales pitch anyway to give himself time to think.
"Nay, they's just a bunch of hicks from the West Virginny sticks and they
want them some big city boy pud. Come on, Xan. There's just gonna be four of
them and you and me. We blow 'em, we let um poke us in the ass a couple times
and we collect a big payday. Fuck with that much moola we can take a couple
nights off. Come on, whadda say?"
Xander gave it a lot of thought. S&P's seldom went well but half a large was a
lot of money to turn your back on. He could pay some bills, get some new jeans,
and to be honest, a night or two off to go see a movie or just relax was like a
carrot in the donkey's face.
Joey B. threw his arm around his friend's shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.
"I knew you'd do it. Fuck, Xan, it's gonna be a piece of cake. Thanks, shit I
won't forget this. You go get some sleep. I'll be by at sundown tonight and pick
you up. They want us to be at the Holiday in down on Highway 39 at around ten.
I promise it's gonna be fine."
"Yeah, I'm sure it will."
Deal made, Xander turned to go up the steps of the boarding house to his rented
rooms when the hesitant voice bid him wait.
Xander's shoulders slumped and he sighed before plastering the tired smile on his
face and turning back around. Joey stood where Xander had left him wringing
his hands together.
"Can you, um, spot me a Grant? I promise I'll pay you back after tomorrow night.
You know I'm good for it."
Xander slowly descended the cracked cement steps. Reaching into his pocket,
he held his wad tightly in his closed fist and pealed off a fifty, one he was certain
he would never see again. Joey snatched it from the extended grip. He let out a
whoop of excitement and took off running down the street waving it high in the
air and shouting,
"Thanks, Xan. See ya tomorrow night!"