Hesitant Heart (2 page)

At first Sam had thought it was good fortune that the man who had given him a ride knew all about attractions to other men, but Louis had explained about those desires in the same way he’d explained several other things to him on their long drive. He’d said that there were men who looked for young runaways or others in desperate circumstances and that they didn’t care whether those fellows liked men or not. They would give them money or force them to do things that they didn’t want to do—sometimes even hurting them real bad.

Sam had become very scared, wondering if Louis wanted to hurt him too, but Louis had reassured him that he was only trying to warn him to be careful. After he’d failed to convince Sam to stay with him, he’d insisted on helping him find work, so that Sam didn’t end up on the streets. The other thing he’d warned Sam about was how depraved Hollywood was and that he would always have to be on the lookout for those who would use him for their own gain.

He loved his job most of the time, the pay was very good and it was okay to like men there. Recently, he’d come to love it even more. He was hopeful that sometime during the day he would get to see the handsome dark-haired man who was more beautiful than any he’d ever seen before. He was older, sophisticated and had soulful brown eyes. It made his stomach squishy whenever the man spoke to him in his gentle, deep-timbered voice.

Sam shivered at the mere thought of the nude form of his fantasy man. When he was submerged in water, Sam wasn’t able to get a clear glimpse of his enticing member. But when he reclined on the large marble ledge in the steam room, his dream lover would be brazenly on display. Sometimes his legs would be relaxed and open and one time, the man’s staff had even been partially erect. Sam had needed to bite his lips to keep from making a wanton sound and had worried that he might have been caught staring.

Sam had never seen the dark-haired man fully aroused, but it was what he wanted more than anything. He never thought beyond that one fantasy because he had no real idea what men who liked each other did to make one another feel good. Louis had vaguely told him about a few activities, but Sam wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. He hadn’t really understood what Louis had been talking about. Some of the things sounded too weird. Sam would have been content to simply abuse himself as he watched the beautiful man do the same. He’d made himself come to that image countless times since he’d first seen him at the bathhouse.

In the porcelain tiled locker room of the Temple of Eros, Sam changed out of his street clothes and into his work outfit. It wasn’t much of an ensemble, consisting only of a short white toga that was held up with one drape of fabric. His private parts were encased in a sling-like piece of material so that when he bent over to place the heated stones in the water for steam or to gather up the dirty towels, his penis wouldn’t hang down. But the strip of cloth wasn’t very wide and it would crawl between his butt cheeks, wedging him uncomfortably and quite likely providing the bathhouse members with a bit of a show.

The manager encouraged such behavior, since the boys who enticed men to give them money had to share it with the bathhouse. Even though Sam was always asked to go into one of the private rooms, he never said yes. It was no different than if he’d chosen to live with Louis—he wasn’t going to do something that personal unless he was in love—or at the least, very much in like.

Despite the fact that Sam really enjoyed his job, he still worried about things. What if the beautiful man he longed for was the lover of the older silver-haired gentleman whom he’d seen him with on several occasions? He’d also noticed that same older man with other patrons there. Did that mean that the older man wasn’t being true to the beautiful one? It wasn’t right. Sam would always stay true to him if he ever had the chance for them to be together.

There were other matters to worry about though, other problems that could be real trouble for him. If he never went with the men for money, the manager might make him leave his job—that’s what some of the other boys had said. He had to have his job. He wouldn’t know how to go about getting another one. He also wasn’t a hundred percent certain that he was safe in Hollywood. It was a bit too close to San Francisco. He’d only meant to stay long enough to make some money then keep on going, but once he’d seen the beautiful man, he hadn’t been able to make himself leave.

“Hey, Smith. I think your boyfriend is here. Too bad you wouldn’t know what to do with him even if he ever took a shine to you. I wouldn’t worry too much though. I doubt he wants a skinny nothing. I bet your cock is the skinniest thing of all.”

Sam looked up from where he’d been tying the strings of his Romanesque sandals up his calves. He refused to respond to David, one of the other towel boys. Everything he’d ever said to Sam hadn’t been very nice and David also made fun of him a lot. It was though he could sense Sam’s innocence and wanted to stamp it into the ground. Sam also didn’t care for the bad words he used. There were even some he’d never heard of before and he wasn’t entirely sure what they were supposed to mean.

David claimed he wasn’t a homosexual and only went to the private rooms with men because of the money. Sam thought that was even worse than taking it when you already liked men anyway. It seemed twice as dishonest. But he supposed that made David think he was an expert about everything that men did together and what their private parts were like. Sam wasn’t too sure why it was so important for men to have a big organ. What difference did it make? The more he considered David’s behavior, the more Sam was glad he hadn’t used his real last name working at the Temple of Eros. He was sure no one there could be trusted.

Except for the beautiful man. He’s good. I can tell.

Sam had been raised to be polite, but he’d never had to deal with such awful people as the ones he’d encountered since he’d been in Los Angeles. So he chose to ignore the sniping of his co-worker, even if it was rather rude. Gathering his street clothes then placing them in his locker, Sam was startled when David shoved him against the wooden doors of the compartments. David was a little taller than Sam’s five-and-a-half feet and built huskier. He glowered, standing within inches of Sam in a threatening stance, feet apart, hands braced against the lockers on either side of Sam’s head.

“You sure like to act all high and mighty, Smith. What are you hiding? Huh?”

Sam narrowed his eyes, pressing his lips together, refusing to let David know he was afraid. He hated bullies. His father was a first class bully and David had no right to treat him like that. Sam had never even been a little bit mean to him.

“Hey, you lazy, useless boys! What’s going on in here?”

Bob Larsen, the manager, stormed into the room and grabbed David by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back as he did. David howled in protest.

“Well? I asked you both a question.”

His boss had barked out the words, his face reddening, his lips twisted in a menacing snarl.

“Sorry, sir.” David’s tone had miraculously changed into one of sweetness and compliance. “I should have come to you first, but Smith had me so upset by what he said, I couldn’t help myself.”

“What? I never—”

“Quiet!” Bob loosened his hold on David. “What’d he say?”

David glanced at him sideways and Sam didn’t miss the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“Sam was telling me how he was too good to go with the men to the private rooms and that if he ever did, he would keep all the money anyway.”

“He’s lying, Mr Larsen. I never said—”

A stinging slap across his face knocked his head to the side. He covered his injured cheek with one hand, refusing to give in to the urge to cry. It had been a while since he’d been hit in the face and after leaving home, he’d hoped it would never happen again. He chanced a peek at Mr Larsen.

“Don’t you sass me, you little street urchin,” Mr Larsen growled. “Now listen, Smith, that fella who’s been eyeing you is in the main steam room with Saul Liebowitz, the regular. If you don’t get him to take you to one of the private rooms today, I don’t ever want to see you in here again. And since you don’t want your pride hurt by taking money to let him fuck you, for your first time you can give the whole ten bucks to me. Got it?”

Sam’s eyes went wide. He was terrified. Confused. How could the beautiful man fuck him? It reminded him of some of the things Louis had told him on the ride down the coast that had also been confusing. He knew what that word meant. It was how his cousin Andrew had gotten the neighbor girl Molly pregnant when they were both only sixteen. They’d had what his father had said was a ‘shotgun wedding’. Sam didn’t remember seeing any shotguns when they got married, so he figured his father must have been mistaken. The memory was upsetting to him for another reason, but he didn’t have time to worry about it right then. He had other more immediate problems.

Mr Larsen grabbed him roughly by his upper arm and dragged him toward the exit of the changing area.

“Here’s some fresh towels. Now get in there and do your goddamned job.”

His legs shook so much, he wasn’t sure he could walk on them. He gulped in air, his breath coming in short pants as he carried the neatly folded towels in front of him as if they were a sacrificial offering. He’d thought he’d loved his job, but not anymore. The terror in him was so sharp that any of the good parts of it had been wiped away.

As he approached the closed door of the room that contained the man he’d fantasized would want him for more than sex, he caught a sob in his throat. He would take whatever wages he still had and leave town first thing. Louis had been right. Hollywood was a very bad place. Men didn’t love one another because they wanted to love. They only did it for the right price.

He bumped the latch down with his elbow, a practiced move that he’d used since his first day working at the bathhouse. Trembling, he crept inside, his eyes cast down. His cheeks flushed from within and not from the high temperature. The heat was oppressive. He was certain it was no different than usual, but Sam couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

“Ah, splendid. Our favorite towel boy is here.”

Without looking, Sam recognized the voice of the older man. Saul? That’s what Mr Larsen had said.

“That he is. Young man, would you bring us some fresh towels please?”

“S-sure.”

He didn’t feel right. He wasn’t sure if it was the steam, the heat, his nerves or everything all mixed up together. Even though his feet seemed as if they were made of giant rocks, Sam forced himself to go in the direction of the two men, go toward the strong gentle voice of the man he was supposed to give himself to.

With his gaze still cast down, the first thing he saw was the feet of the beautiful man. There was a fine layer of hair covering the top of them, dark and alluring against the man’s ivory skin. He tracked the path of the hair up the long legs that were lean, yet sculpted. Sam inhaled sharply at the sight of his full sac, the magnificent view of his manhood.

It was then that he raised his eyes and locked them for the first time with the man of his fantasies. There was a kindness in his expression, the barest hint of a smile. Sam swayed. Right as the room fell away, he saw the look on the man’s face change to one of fear.

Chapter Two

Aaron cradled the sweet, unconscious boy in his arms. The young man had been eyeing him rather blatantly from the moment Aaron had first noticed him working at the bathhouse. He seemed so innocent, yet it wasn’t possible being that he worked in such an establishment. Towels were never the main reason the patrons of the Temple of Eros availed themselves of the services of the fetching boys who were employed there. Unfortunately, the small lad was likely no different than the others who worked at the barely veiled queer brothel. Instead, he was gifted with the appearance of being untouched and also seemingly possessed of the incredible ability to act as if he were completely pure.

Perhaps I should have Saul introduce him to his good friend, Vincent, the studio fellow.

A moan escaped the lips of the boy as he stirred in Aaron’s arms, yet he didn’t awake.

Such a pretty little thing. Awful the way someone so young has already been corrupted.

There was a twinge in Aaron’s gut as he thought of the many men he’d paid to have sex with him, to submit to him. But he’d never taken anyone’s innocence. He’d only sought out older, more experienced prospects. In his early years before Prohibition had taken effect, he’d patronized bars where homosexual men were known to gather. Then it had been the pansy clubs where he’d found those who made themselves available for all manner of pleasures.

Other than that, the only time his needs had been truly met was when he’d belonged to a sadomasochism club. He thanked the heavens that he’d met Saul years before and that his friend had guided him to the private home of the Hampton Road Club in nearby San Marino.

The men he’d hired over the years had repeatedly remarked that they couldn’t understand why he had to pay for their services when in their minds he was very attractive. However, once he’d tied them up and made their asses red, it had become quite clear to them why that was the case. And even though the men he played with at the Hampton Road Club and other such establishments were of a like mind, most of them wanted a variety of partners. It had all conspired to reinforce the fact that he would always remain alone and unloved. Indulging in his proclivities at least offered a temporary respite.

The boy stirred again, and this time his lids fluttered open. He appeared confused then frightened as he peered up at Aaron. There was an immediate tension in his body.

“Ah, you’re back with us.” Aaron smiled in reassurance. “Can you sit up?”

The only response Aaron received was a continued stare from the large doe-like eyes of the obviously terrified towel boy. His beautiful aquamarine eyes…

“Come on now. Saul’s gone to get some help…”

Aaron frowned as the young man trembled and shook his head, still seemingly unable to speak. His head lolled to the side and Aaron feared he might pass out once more. It had to be the heat of the room. Aaron pressed his hand lightly to his chest.