Tony (Shibari Auction House)
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2015 Sean Michael
Five hundred dollars. Five hundred. That was enough for a bus ticket somewhere warmer, somewhere safer. Somewhere new. Tony figured he'd end up fucked, but the old dude was fine enough, and God knew he'd fucked some losers.
"I'm just two blocks down," Yves told him, still holding his hand. "But we'll go to the bank machine on the corner first."
"Whatever you want, man. I'm all yours." For the night.
The bank machine was right on the corner, and the guy took out the three hundred he still owed Tony and solemnly handed it over.
Then they crossed the street and headed south. "You like turkey?"
"Huh?" Was that a new drug or something? Tony'd never heard of it. "I don't do nothin' harder than grass."
"Grass? Are you telling me you're a vegetarian?"
"What? I don't... I don't get you, man."
"I have a turkey in the oven at home. To eat. For Christmas dinner?" Yves clarified.
"Oh. Oh, I... Do you got company?" Tony charged more for groups.
"Well, yes. You. You will join me, won't you? That's why I was asking if you liked turkey." They turned the corner, the streets becoming residential as soon as they left the main drag.
"I'm like the least picky dude around." He could murder a plate of food.
"Excellent. I ordered a bird for one, but it's still enormous, and there's only so many turkey sandwiches a man can have for leftovers."
God, Yves was tall. Like hugely so. Tony was just to the middle of the man's chest, and he stopped looking up at the guy because he was getting a crick in his neck. But the big hand swallowed his right up, holding on.
It wasn't long before they arrived at a big house that had clearly been split up, four mailboxes on the wall next to the front door. Yves went in and they headed up the stairs. This wasn't a hotel. Or a flophouse. This was someone's home.
They went in and he was immediately hit with the smell of food. Really good food. His stomach started growling, loud enough to hear.
The dude chuckled. "Yeah, I feel the same way."
The lights were already on when they got to the kitchen, bright and warm. It was fairly small, with a little table and two chairs. There was a note on the stove.
The guy picked it up and read it. "'Everything is ready to go, keeping warm in the oven. Merry Christmas, Yves.'" The dude -- Yves -- smiled. "My neighbor, Sue."
Tony smiled back, body beginning to shiver as he started to warm up.
"Are you cold?" Yves asked. "There are blankets and I can turn the heat up."
"No. No, I'm c-c-cool." His teeth were chattering.
"Yes, love, I asked if you were cold." Yves made a clicking noise with his tongue and pulled out one of the chairs. "Sit." Then Yves disappeared out of the kitchen.
Tony looked around. This was like... like a real home. He didn't belong here.
Yves was back a moment later, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.
"How old are you?" Yves asked as he began to set the table for two.
"Tw... twenty-one," Tony lied. He'd turned nineteen on Halloween. "Or sixteen, if you like 'em young."
Yves rolled his eyes. "Somewhere in between then?"
"Nineteen. I just. I'm legal, okay?"
"That's what I needed to know. And whether I could serve you a hot buttered rum or not. I'll warm some cider instead. It should go well with our dinner."
Tony didn't know what to do, what Yves wanted him to do. "You... you want some help?" God, this was weird.
"No, I'll have everything ready to go in a moment. You need to warm up."
Yves poured apple cider into two mugs and put them in the microwave. Sixty seconds later, Tony had a hot drink in front of him. He wrapped his fingers around the mug, holding on tight, his entire body shivering.
"Drink up," Yves suggested. "You'll warm soon, I hope."