Show Me (11 page)

“Um, Javier. I mean, Lothario on the show.”

“Cool,” said Thomas awkwardly. He was (as Janice put it) a “civilian”; he’d never had anything to do with the sex industry before, and he was clearly feeling a little out of his depth. Most of the residents on
Home of X
had some kind of related background; the producers of the show (an X-rated version of
Big Brother
) had decided to play it safe by using people who could be counted on to have good on-camera sex, with a few “ordinary” people thrown in for spice.

“I think those twins only have their jobs because they’re twins,” Justin said now, scowling at Zaza. “They’re really freaky-looking.”

“Jea-lous,” Janice sang.

Thomas and Zaza laughed. Justin looked around at the three of them angrily. “No shit,” he said. “They got their eyes too close together.”

“I didn’t notice that,” Zaza said diplomatically. “I mean, I thought everyone was so good-looking, I was really scared. I thought I was the freak the whole time.”

“Oh, that’s nuts,” Thomas said. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re way better-looking than that Javier guy,” Justin said, and snorted. “He looks like a weird snake.”

“Snakes have their eyes on either side of their heads,” Janice pointed out.

“According to
you,
” Justin said dismissively. “All I know is, he looks like a snake.”

Thomas, smiling, caught Zaza’s eye. She almost laughed, but swallowed and made herself say, “It was scary, anyway. Everyone was so professional. I had no idea what I was doing.”

Thomas nodded. “But what I meant was, how did you end up . . . you know, here at all? Doing this kind of thing.”

“Is this the ‘Where do you come from’ part?” said Janice, looking up sardonically through her too-long blond bangs. “I hate that part.”

“Well, it’s lucky no one asked you, then, isn’t it?” Justin said. “I want to hear where Zaza comes from.”

“Oh,” said Zaza. “I feel like I don’t come from anywhere. I mean, I don’t have parents.”

“You were hatched from an egg.” Justin sniggered.

“I was raised by my aunt Lucy,” Zaza said, trying not to be annoyed. If she started getting annoyed with Justin, the weeks to come would be a nightmare—unless, of course, he was voted off first, which seemed likely. “My mother left me there when I was a baby, and we just never heard from her again. And my aunt didn’t know who my father was.”

“Really?” Janice put down her contact sheet. “You don’t know who he was? You don’t know where your mom is? That’s awful.”

“Oh, it’s not so awful,” said Zaza, trying to be cool. “My aunt is kind of awful, though. She calls me up and tells me I’m going to end up like my mother.”

“Well, she doesn’t know how your mother ended up, does she?” Janice said. “She could have married a prince, for all she knows. Poor you.”

“Yeah, poor you,” said Thomas.

Zaza was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She wished desperately that there was more booze left. “She means well. She’s just conservative. I grew up in Oklahoma, and I was always kind of wild.”

“Chip off the old block,” said Justin. “So you ended up in sex work because of your genetics.”

Thomas scowled at him, but Janice laughed and said, “That’s me. Third generation of sex workers in my family. I grew up at prostitutes’ union meetings. But I’m telling you, my mother wouldn’t even let me date until I was seventeen. She used to tell me, ‘Men only want one thing.’ ”

“Oh, exactly!” Zaza said. “That’s word for word what Aunt Lucy said! It made me think about that one thing like it was the Holy Grail!”

“Yeah,” said Janice. “ ’Cause you knew that one thing must be pretty special, if it was
all
dudes wanted. Wow, give me
that
thing!”

Running his hand over his shaved head a little nervously, Justin said, “I hate that. Like men are responsible for all the sorrows of the world. I think girls are just as likely to be using guys for sex. I hate that thing where men are assumed to be predators.”

“Then why do you try to look like a predator?” Janice said skeptically.

Justin had arrived at the house in a black leather biker jacket that, he proudly informed them, had weathered two crashes that put him in the hospital with broken bones. It was accordingly scuffed and torn, and seemed of a piece with his scarred and angry face. When he took it off, he was wearing a wife-beater that showed off a wealth of tattoos, mainly variations on the themes of skulls and knives. With his shaved head and massive size, he was frightening at first glance. On further acquaintance, he became both frightening and annoying.

He pulled a disgusted face. “I got to say, that’s a pretty stupid question.”

“Yeah? What’s stupid about it?”

“I’m not trying to look like a predator—that’s what.”

“So why do you dress like that?”

“Stupid question.”

Janice rolled her eyes. “Am I talking to myself?”

He was silent for a moment, looking around at his housemates’ expectant faces. His jaw was set and he was obviously struggling to contain his anger.

Zaza said softly, “It’s okay, Janice was just—”

“No, fuck it,” he said. “It’s stupid ’cause the answer’s totally obvious.”

“Because you’re scared of seeming gay,” Janice guessed.

“No, you idiot,” he said. “Because I
am
gay.”

Thomas laughed, while Janice sat with her mouth hanging open, looking both amazed and contrite.

Thomas said, “I guess you don’t seem gay—I mean, in stereotypical ways.”

Justin shrugged, still nettled. “Yeah, whatever that means.”

“Oh, honestly,” Janice said. “What I wonder is why they want a gay guy here. I mean, did they know you were gay?”

“Of course they knew,” he said. “It’s part of their whole plan.”

Janice looked at Thomas and said, “I see a new experience in your future. . . .”

“Cut it out,” Thomas said, crossing his arms uncomfortably. “It’s really not funny.”

“Well, we’re all here to have sex with each other.” Janice shrugged. “So, what’s supposed to happen?”

“I don’t know. You figure it out,” Justin said. “I’m going to go take a shower.” He got up from his chair and left the room in a huff, actually stamping his feet as he went up the stairs.

Thomas looked at Zaza with concern. “Hey, are you okay? I’m sorry. We just forgot about your mom. Did something hurt your feelings?”

Zaza shook her head. “No, I’m okay.” She forced herself to smile weakly.

The secret task she had received that morning had just gotten ten times harder. From the outset, she hadn’t seen how she was going to get Justin to fuck her—without letting him know it was a task rather than her natural inclination. After all, most of the sex they would be having would be assigned for the duration of their stay. Surely he would guess. And now . . . she would seem like one of those crazy women who were obsessed with “saving” homosexuals.

 

 

 

To her surprise, Justin sought her out that night. She was in the back garden, watering the flower beds (one of her chores), when the water suddenly stopped coming out of the hose. She turned around and saw him standing by the faucet, smiling with his usual belligerence.

“Got your attention,” he said.

“Oh.” She felt herself blushing. Her mind immediately went blank. She couldn’t even imagine having a conversation with this person, never mind fucking him. At last she said, “Well, hi.”

“I’m not mad at
you,”
he said. “I know you’re not like Janice. I mean, you were trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s . . . people say things.” She made a face. “I’m sorry. I’m being dumb.”

“No, I just wanted to say . . . I don’t know. I’ve got some beer. Do you want to have a beer in the breakfast room? No one’s in there.”

Five minutes later they were sitting at the table in the breakfast room, and he was earnestly advising her on her life. She should have more self-confidence, because she was a beautiful woman and if she wasn’t so shy, it would shine out. He didn’t think she was cut out for the sex industry, because it was for people who were tough-skinned, and she was obviously sensitive. Primarily, he thought it was essential that she find her parents, because she would always regret it if she didn’t.

“Don’t you have your birth certificate?” he said. “You got to have a birth certificate somewhere.”

“Sure.” Zaza shrugged, wondering how she was going to get from this to seducing him. “It’s somewhere. I never saw it.”

“But then you can find out what your parents’ names are.”

“It just never mattered to me that much. I mean, I don’t know them. And I figure if they wanted to know me, they know where I am.”

“But they might be scared that you don’t want them.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Well, it just doesn’t mean that much to me, though.” She was feeling increasingly uncomfortable at the idea that this conversation was being filmed. What if her real mother or father was watching this? She added hastily, “I mean, I care about them. I hope they’re okay.”

“If you want, I could try to find them for you,” he said. “If you’d feel comfortable with that.”

She must have given him a strange look, because he became sheepish. Avoiding her eye, he said, “My father left my family when I was five. I just tracked him down last year. So, you know, I know what it’s like.”

Zaza was touched. Clearly there was more to Justin than she’d realized. “Wow. Was it scary? I mean, meeting him for the first time?”

Justin shrugged. “I didn’t meet him.”

“Why not?”

“He didn’t want to meet me once he found out I was gay. But, you know, it’s like you said about your aunt. You have to accept some people are just narrow-minded, and keep on with your life.”

“That’s terrible,” Zaza said.

“But I don’t think that would happen to you. Anyone would be proud to have you for a daughter.” He smiled at her. “Especially if your mom was a little wild herself.”

Zaza was surprised by her own conflicting emotions. The story of Justin being rejected by his father made her surprisingly angry. How could a parent be like that? But, of course, parents were like that all the time. Her own parents . . . she squashed that thought. At the same time, she was drawn to Justin’s kindness, and felt a sentimental gratitude that he’d shown her this side of himself. She blurted, “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

He laughed and looked sheepish again. “Yeah, that’s not something I hear that often. Thanks.”

“But why are you here? I mean . . .” Zaza tried to find the words. “Well, it seems like it would be miserable for you.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I was kind of fucking with those guys. I mean, I’m mainly gay, but I sleep with girls, too. It’s just not as charged for me.”

“Oh.” Zaza suddenly found she couldn’t meet his eye. She felt ashamed of the idea of fucking him as some task. Maybe she could get away with not doing the task. What was the worst that could happen? They could make her sleep in the bathtub or something. . . . It would be worth it.

Then he said, “Why don’t you let me show you?”

She was surprised to find that her body instantly responded, waking into sensitivity. Her cheeks burning, she made herself meet his eye. “But . . . you wouldn’t really want to.”

“So why am I asking?” His voice had taken on a deeper, huskier timbre. Without thinking, she glanced at the crotch of his jeans, and he instantly said, “Yeah, I
am
getting hard.”

Then she was furiously embarrassed—and even more aroused. He got up and moved over to her. When she looked up, her eyes lingered on his big tattooed arms. The muscles, the tattoos, all those corny signifiers of masculinity attracted her despite herself, despite everything. Then his eyes locked on hers. She made a split-second decision and reached forward to touch the growing bulge in his jeans.

At her first touch, his body tensed while his face eased into a drowsy appreciation. She traced the shape of his cock with her finger, and her breath came shallow and fast. He began to stroke her hair, gathering her soft red curls in his hand and then letting them spill through. The shape of the bulge was changing as it grew, and he pulled back from her suddenly, saying, “If you keep doing that, I’m going to have to take these off.”

She looked up. “Do you want to?”

“Of course I
want
to.”

She considered for a second that she was going to complete her task after all—considered the many reasons she shouldn’t want to do this; considered the fact that this was happening on camera (though that seemed so hard to believe that she actually dismissed it from her mind). And then she undid the top button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper. In a moment he was standing there in only his T-shirt, his hands resting lightly on Zaza’s shoulders while she kissed the thick empurpled shaft of his dick.

She began to lick him with small, confined strokes, moving up and down the length of his cock while he whispered, “God, that’s nice. . . . Oh, God.” She took the end of his cock between her lips and paused, letting him feel her breath on the hypersensitive skin there, feeling the tension as he prevented himself from thrusting forward into her mouth. Then, in one motion, she took the whole length of it in her mouth, moving her tongue along the veiny underside while he moaned and gripped her shoulders.

Then he was pulling her to her feet. She let his cock slide out of her mouth. He smiled at her and said, “I’m sorry, but I can come real fast that way. I don’t want to cheat you.”

She was breathing hard, her mind in a fog. “What do you want to do to me?” she said.

He raised his eyebrows. “Let me show you.”

Kneeling in front of her, he lifted her skirt and began to kiss her thighs, working his way around to the insides and then up to the edge of her lace thong panties. Then his tongue began to test the fabric over her pussy, and she felt the heat of his breath as a melting longing there. He pulled them down and his hand was already playing with her clitoris, the fingers dancing in and out of her as she moaned. Before she could fully register what was happening, he was on his feet and had lifted her onto the breakfast table, saying, “Can I fuck you, Zaza?”