Chapter 14
717 Words
14
Tyrone grunted and let out a groan of intense pleasure tinged with an undercurrent of pain. The pain wasn’t a bad thing, though; it felt good. It was all part of it, as far as he was concerned.
He felt the strong release as he ejaculated onto the bedsheets below him, feeling the movement slow and stop as Lenny’s hand returned to Tyrone’s right hip, before Lenny eased himself out, allowing Tyrone to flop down onto the bed, avoiding the sticky patch he’d just created.
He’d been coming to see Lenny for almost two years now, and he felt they’d built up a connection, a bond. He knew damn well there was no way he’d build up a real relationship with a rent boy, a male prostitute whose job was to make men feel special, but after the number of times he’d been to see Lenny, Lenny had got to know exactly what Tyrone had liked. It had got better every time.
Immediately afterwards came the guilt. Every single time. It flooded him with the undeniable feeling that what he had done was wrong, that if anyone he knew found out about it his life would be over. He asked himself the same old questions: Why did he come here? Why couldn’t he have satisfied those urges on his own? But that was nothing compared to the absolute pleasure he’d felt in the preceding minutes, which was the whole reason he’d kept coming here, time after time, for the past couple of years.
He’d be crucified if anyone he knew found out. In the circles he moved in, homosexuality was worse than a sin. Not that Tyrone was gay, of course — he’d never use that word to describe himself. He just had certain ... urges. He’d never enter into a relationship with a man. There was no way he could even if he wanted to, but the thought often made him feel repulsed. He knew he’d been conditioned to feel that way due to his upbringing and cultural background, but that knowledge changed nothing. It was built into his DNA to feel that what he was doing was wrong. Worse than wrong.
‘You know, you lads need to give yourselves a break,’ Lenny said, as he pulled on his jeans.
‘How d’you mean?’ Tyrone replied, refusing to meet his eye.
‘You black guys. You always pretend like it hasn’t happened, like it’s not perfectly normal and natural to have desires.’
Tyrone sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring the pain from his backside, and leant down to pick up his boxer shorts before putting them on.
‘Dunno what you’re talking about. I’m just tired. Had a long week.’
‘You’ve been having long weeks for the past two years then. All your lot have. You all act the same afterwards. Like it’s some big sin. That mama’s going to disown you for it if she finds out.’
Tyrone instinctively closed the space between him and Lenny, keen to intimidate him but at the same time not wanting to get too close right now. ‘You know nothing about my mum, alright? And you can cut out the racism ’n’all.’
Lenny looked at Tyrone and shook his head as he watched him put his own jeans on before pulling a tight t-shirt over his muscled torso. ‘It’s not racism, sweetie. It’s a pattern I’ve noticed. You all seem to do it. Why can’t you just let go and enjoy yourselves?’
Tyrone fished a wad of notes out of his pocket and threw two twenties and a ten onto the bed. ‘Fifty quid, isn’t it?’ he asked, knowing damn well the special price they’d agreed months ago.
‘Only for you. Seriously, though. You need to let loose. It’s not good for you to ignore it and carry this round like it’s some sort of burden. Black guys can be gay, you know. You’re not exempt.’
Tyrone stopped tying his lace for a moment and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and avoid getting worked up. ‘Like I said. I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.’
Lenny was less than convinced, but he could see he wasn’t going to get any further with this. ‘Alright. I won’t push. But just know that it’s never as bad as you think, alright? The world’s moved on. The vast majority of people are cool with it. You might be surprised.’
Tyrone nodded and picked up his gym bag before going to walk past Lenny and head for the door. As he did, Lenny took hold of his arm.
‘Same time next week?’
Tyrone avoided Lenny’s eye and pulled free from his grip. ‘I’ll let you know.’
- Writer
