Ronnie Haggerty returned to the park after watching Sharon die. He knew when he looked at her that she was dead. He didn't know how he knew. He would have stayed to tell the cops what he saw, only things never went well when he was confronted by cops. The guy would explain she walked out in front of him and it would all be okay.

He sat up under the trees with Jimmy and Tony. They smoked some grass, but Ronnie didn't tell them about Sharon. He couldn't get her off his mind. He liked her. More importantly, she liked him. Maybe he liked her more than he thought.

The following morning, Ronnie sold some meth to buy a soda and a sweet roll. He wasn't really hungry. He was hardly ever hungry any more, but he craved sugar. It gave him a jolt of energy after being up all night. He did his best to push thoughts of Sharon off to one side. There was nothing he could do. It was none of his business now. She had been nicer to him than anyone else in a long time.

Several times on Saturday he'd seen cop cars passing. He'd always turn his head or walk off in another direction. When he was holding drugs, he always thought the cops were after him. There was the incident the night before, and another reason for the cops to want to talk to him.

The driver would have told them that there was a witness to the fact that she walked out in front of him. The cops were smart and had ways of figuring out what happened. They didn't need him, and keeping a low profile was always best.

Ronnie gave some thought to returning to Plato's. Plato liked him, and he'd be off the street if they were looking for him. He just wasn't up to being 'Plato's boy' right now. Without Plato he was really on the street. Maybe he'd go later. He needed fresh air right now.

Ronnie walked down to Horton Plaza in the afternoon. He liked going in and out of the shops. The women there were hot and pleasant. He also turned the heads of the men who worked in many of the shops. He'd learned to talk to them, be coy, and not get himself in too deep.

At first he wanted to belt guys who gave him that hungry look, but now he liked being appreciated. He'd learned to exchange banter with the best of the gay boys when they offered suggestive ideas with him in mind. Being desired wasn't as threatening as it once had been, although he didn't take them seriously.

Bored by the hustle and bustle of the Plaza, he walked over to the Gas Lamp District. He didn't have enough money to eat at Bayou, but the smells were heavenly. He'd never dumpster dived there, but he had gone in for a cup of gumbo a couple of times. It was memorable.

Ronnie liked spicy when he ate. He became lost in a daydream about having enough money for a cup of gumbo, but it was getting late in the afternoon. People were dressing for dinner. Even with money, they'd suggest he come back after a shower and a change of clothes.

He stood in front of the green painted restaurant, watching a few people eating and drinking in the main window. He moved to the corner, leaned against the restaurant there, watching the well dressed people circulating around him. He was mostly invisible to them and he didn't have anywhere to go.

"Excuse me," the woman said, with a heavy accent in her voice. "This is the seafood restaurant and are you recommending it? I'm new to the town and am not wishing to make the mistake."

Ronnie took a long look at the woman who had singled him out. She wore a canary yellow two piece suit with a skirt that stopped at her knee. Her blouse was white with frills. Her accent was French, her hair was black, as were her hat, shoes, and pocketbook. She might have been thirty, he calculated.

"Seafood with a bite," Ronnie said. "It's a wonderful restaurant. In my opinion, its best dishes are the spicy Cajun food."

"Delightful!" she said. "Are you just finished? Oh, excuse my rudeness. I'm Angela," she said, reaching out her white-gloved hand.

"Ronnie. My name is Ronnie," he said, as her eyes engaged his with some degree of warmth.

Holding onto her hand politely, noticing her vivid brown eyes under the wide brim of her black hat, Ronnie admired her flawless face.

"I'm from Paris. I'm an artist. I'm having the show in Los Angeles. I'm coming to see Paradise while being in the West."

"Paradise?" Ronnie said.

"Yes. 'America's perfect city. Another perfect day in paradise.' All the radios are saying this about San Diego."

"I guess. Never noticed. Don't do much radio."

"You are handsome. I'm not knowing anyone here. Would you be taking dinner with me? I'm not enjoying eating alone. My treat is how I think you say this."

"Me? I'm a mess, Angela," he said, still holding her hand. "I've not showered today."

"You are much like the boys of Paris. They are not dressing so much. These are the ones I am liking. I'm not dressing at home. De jeans, de sneakers are for me."

"Not dressing works for me," Ronnie said.

"You are making the joke?"

"You look like a million bucks," Ronnie said, taking in her loveliness.

"Buyers. I'm meeting buyers at noon. I'm 'projecting the proper image.' It is unfortunate the duties are not ending when the paint is drying, but I'm here now, until Monday. Business, she is done.

"Why aren't we shopping? Getting you the slacks and the shirt? I'm having the room nearby. You are showering there and we are coming here for the dinner. What is not to be liking about this?"

"Angela, you don't know me. That's way more than you should do for a stranger," Ronnie said, trying not to resist too strongly.

"I'm not expecting to be meeting the handsome boy I'm liking. Lucky we are both liking the Cajun cuisine, is it not?"

It was never in doubt that Ronnie was going to surrender to Angela's desire. It was a plain pair of slacks, chocolate brown. The shirt was very expensive, fitting Ronnie to a T. His broad shoulders and thin waist made the shirt look tailored to his torso. His platinum blond hair blended beautifully with the tan and green colors in the shirt.

The Hilton was always nice. He stepped into the shower, welcoming the fine warm spray. He soaped himself lavishly as he let the water massage his shoulders. It was like he was washing away the unpleasantness that was still haunting him. In particular, the sudden sound of the collision; Sharon tumbling onto the asphalt like a rag doll. He shook it away each time it flashed into his brain. He had liked her.

It was a few minutes before the door opened. Ronnie smiled. He'd begun to wonder if he'd misjudged Angela. She'd had a different kind of hungry look, and she was the answer to making Ronnie feel like a real man again. She'd keep his mind straight for certain.

She took her time slipping under the shower with him. He'd risen to the occasion in anticipation of her arrival. The first kiss was luscious. Her skin felt like velvet. She was as beautiful nude as she was dressed, but he preferred nude.

Angela measured his aching penis with her fingers, causing Ronnie's knees to seriously bend. She squeezed, making him moan in her ear as he pulled her close to get her breasts firmly against him, using her behind.

He kissed her passionately, once he got his legs firmly planted under him. She massaged his erection with vigor, wanting to feel it swell to its full excited size. She knew how to control the action and keep him from peaking too soon.

Once she had him where she wanted him, he eased forward as her fingers kept the slippery hardness on target, caressing his balls once he was up to the hilt inside her.

The passion ran hot and Angela eased back the hot water as Ronnie found a rhythm that caused Angela to moan. Her short gasps burst on his face as he used his grip on her rear end to push as deep as he could go, causing her to gasp louder, stirring his lust to a peak he'd never reached before.

"Ooh!" she sighed. "You are quite the lusty boy," she whispered softly, wrapping her body around his as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

She kissed his neck, his chest, and chewed each quarter size nipple to regenerate his desire. While he knew he was spent, and rarely recovered for a second charge without more meth to encourage a never ending erection, Angela was well versed in keeping her boy engaged and in place, even after an orgasm rolled over him.

This was the thing Ronnie was best at. Girls from little after he reached puberty bragged about his ability for him to get them where they wished to go. Once bedded, the school girls always told him he was the best, which made him want to be better.

Angela was the most mature and beautiful woman he'd been with. She made him happy to be alive. He wanted to be the best she'd had, living proof she'd made no mistake picking him out for love.

In the shower they both spoke the same language, giving new meaning to squeaky clean. It wasn't the first time either of them had made love in a shower, but it was the best.

Being clean and satisfied was a good deal, but the meth he'd taken the night before had long ago worn off. He lay on the bed with his hands behind his head, watching her brush her long black hair, her nakedness a reminder of his talent. He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up, she was kissing him. It was already dark.

At first he didn't remember which bed he was in, but he soon remembered Angela, who had taken a shine to him, and they made love again. Lying down was even better, and Ronnie had awakened ready to rock and roll. She played him like a fiddle, and they made sweet, beautiful music together.

"Are you wanting the dinner?"

"I'm starved," Ronnie said, still lying on his back. "I haven't been this hungry in forever. I've never made love four times in one afternoon either. You're incredible."

Angela was once again brushing her hair with him watching. The only light on was in the bathroom, and it was as if she was on stage, her wonderful body in his spotlight. Ronnie couldn't believe he was with such a beauty.

"Should I get dressed?" Ronnie asked, not sure she was done.

"No, I'm liking you naked, but I'm not sure the Bayou is liking you so much this way. Maybe a little clothes."

"You're funny," Ronnie said, delighted the loving was over and she still wanted to take him to dinner.

"I'm calling the car before I am dressing. He will be coming in maybe 30 minutes."

"Car?"

"I'm having a driver. I told him I'd want him for dinner."

Ronnie took this to mean he needed to dress. He watched Angela dress. She brought a brush to brush his ultra clean hair.

"I've never met anyone like you," Ronnie said, feeling comfortable with her in a way he was rarely comfortable with anyone.

"Angela is hoping this is good."

"You make me feel special. It's not a feeling I get often."

"My Ronnie, you are special to me."

"That's the first sex I've had without being totally stoned as far back as I can remember. I didn't realize how good it could be."

"This is good?"

"It was better than good. I haven't felt that good in forever."

"I'm happy you are liking me," she said, kissing his hair.

Sensing his mood, she kissed his lips to make him smile.

Even with the kiss, Ronnie knew he was temporary help. He was a bought boy. Angela would put him back where she found him in a day or two. His life would go back to being all loose ends. He'd be well fed. He'd no longer horny, but he would be back in Balboa Park.


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

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"Benz" Copyright © 1 February 2012 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
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