orangetoughguy | log post II

Yeah? You live with your friend?

[We all know about that friend. Everyone in this room.]

That's how you get noticed, pal. [Click for another shot.] I don't write the rule book, I just play by it. You're gonna get your money one way or the other. Don't you worry. Stay in your comfort zone. No funny stuff, right?

[Though this old dirty bastard crouches to take a shot of the chest down.]

Try another pose. Pretend that I'm not even here. Get up. Walk around. We got a window but nobody's out there.

Uh huh. He's a real fruit.

[Does he mean the bird or the old man though huh? No reason to clarify and Freddy will keep that secret to himself with a flash of a sly smile. The clicks of the camera keep going off and he wonders just how ridiculous he actually looks in them. Fff Larry's hardly even looking at them. All part of the game. Except the kid's starting to feel a little dopey not knowing how to pose, what to do, he almost feels a bit shy. He's never in his life had someone take this many photos of him.]

I guess I can smoke. You don't mind huh?

[He's lighting up anyway and when he's finished with that Freddy starts taking off his top shirt.]

Oh. One of those.

[At first he was sure Freddy was talking about the bird, now not so much.]

They get around.

[The pictures are to look at later. Blurry or focused they're captured memories. Brown eyes look at him sitting there and know without a doubt he is good looking.]

Not at all.

[There he goes already. Click. And undressing, already? Click. Click. He won't get a frame by frame sequence. That's fine. There'll be more of that.]

That's good, real good. Though I thought you said no funny stuff.

[Larry moves to a different angle but keeps his eyes on the prize.]

That mean I gotta keep my hands off?

They do? [Innocent question, honest, as he streams smoke from his nose. As for the funny stuff he kind of just looks at Larry.] I'm gettin' comfortable.

[Come on is he seriously going to protest? Freddy highly doubts it. Just his beater and jeans now.] What do you want to put your hands on? I'm not a prude, just careful.

So I hear. [Shrug.] Hell of a lifestyle.

[Free as a bird as long as you don't disturb anybody. It should be apparent now he's not talking about the toucan.]

It's good. Just what I want. However...[Larry sets down the camera a second and approaches the kid. He combs back Freddy's hair tousling it. Then he pulls his wife beater out of his jeans a little more on one end. For one second his hand touches against the kid's buckle.]

Undo it.

[Back to the camera he goes. No mistaking it, kid only his buckle and crotch are in the shot.]

However--

[Ffffftfhtf. There he goes, combing him, touching him, but only so much. Freddy's used to more of those paws on him, it's such a fucking tease. Then he issues that command, shit.]

Okay.

[It's just a game, just having fun, just living a dream, and yet the kid's feeling fucking shy. What the hell. He blames Larry, the old man has the scent of power and authority over him, even when it's just pretend. He looks up at those brown eyes then looks down to start undoing his belt. It's slow and meticulous, possibly giving the old man a semblance of frame by frame action. He goes as far as undoing the button on his jeans too but he doesn't pull the zip yet.]

[Click. Click. Each picture falls or is tossed aside. He is trying to keep it casual. They're strangers in this right?]

That's good. Real good.

[And he wants more. Is it hesitation or is Freddy trying to get the old man to really take the wheel?]

How you feeling about it so far? Not too hard. I mean look atcha.

I'm okay. I ain't ever done this before.

[Taken pictures like this, taken pictures. That's all. And that's coming from both Orange and Freddy Newendyke. Of course in the back of his mind he knows what else those words can mean. Between the two of them it kind of carries a particularly special connotation. That's something Larry will always have for himself. He taps ash out to one side, in a tray or something if possible.]

What kinda pictures do you wanna see? [He's going over to the window now, bending just so at the sill.]

There's great material coming out of it.

[As though he has gone the whole nine yards with this kind of a scenario. Larry's had a camera in hand and it wasn't a Polaroid. Whatever happened to it? Chances are he left it at a party where no one knew his name.]

Right there. Stay that way. That's good.

[The old man takes a shot from the side and then moves to the other purposely brushing past his rear but not staying there.]

I want something raw. You're something new and fresh. Today's work is done. Hang loose.

[The brush to his rear doesn't go unnoticed. Idly he wonders if Larry's taken pictures for other people before. He wonders if Larry's had his picture taken. He's a good teenager older than him, the man's bound to have some wild stories.]

Have you had your pictures done?

[He'll dare to ask because talking circles helps keep the kid feeling natural in his role. Orange is taking a devil-may-care smokey lean against the window frame now. He turns to face White, buckle all undone, beater half spilling out. There's a small peek of bare skin too.]

Once at the shore. Nothing big. A few snaps. Not like this.

[Click. Every detail will be recorded if he can help it.]

And a hell of a party once.

[Shrug.]

Is all this gonna stay on? [He gestures from the wife beater to the jeans.] You can but this is missing something.

The shore? You did it on a beach?

[Pictures. Just pictures. Hey didn't Bettie Page get her pictures done on the sand? Freddy starts taking his shoes off. Don't worry, Dimick, he's gonna move on to more, but the shoes have to go first. Bare feet touch the cool ground. There ought to be a close up here.]

What kind of party?

[The beater stays on while he slips that belt from his denim loops.]

[One photo for each foot, actually.]

Swinger's party. When you come alone interesting things happen.

[He swaps the camera from one paw to another to remove his jacket. Larry drops it to the floor. No he isn't mimicking, not at all.]

Pull it all the way out.

[The belt that is.]

[Whoa hold the phone. Now it's Freddy talking. He stares at Larry.]

Really? You? [Don't they have a rule against single men, then again this is Lawrence Dimick. Who's gonna tell him no? Freddy wonders if at his peak Larry had men throwing their wives and girlfriends at him like some bizarre twist on the head of the tribe getting to kiss every man's bride before she's married off. Maybe Newendyke needs to rein in his fantasies. Anyway back to the belt, he has the leather strip pulled almost all the way out with just the last bit still looped by a few inches, it makes for a nice sculptural angle. Then it's out.] So what kinda interesting things happened.

[Clink. The belt drops to the floor.]

Me. Though I snuck in right behind a lady comin' back in for a smoke. Folks thought I was with her. Once I was in, I was in. Even when people started putting two and two together.

[Paws come up to the kid and tilt his face one way then another.]

Stay right where you are.

[He goes to the suitcase.]

At first they were thinking of punishing me. But then the host couple had the say because they were pretty filled up on booze. They decided I should stick around and lend a hand to whoever needed it.

[Some of this is true. Some of it is not. How much of it will the kid believe anyways? The old man had fucked at least twice then was thrown out on his ass. He was in pictures though.

The old man holds the camera under his arm and brings back some oil. Yeah. And without asking he puts it onto the kid's arms. Just enough. The rest goes into his hair to make it even more wild.]

So did you? Did you lend two hands?

[To Freddy Newendyke the whole story is true to some extent because it entertains him and the words are coming from Lawrence Dimick's mouth. That's true enough. It's the same way Larry practically eats up his stories, both the real and the fake. Although when Larry's doing the storytelling Freddy's not completely sure he's as good at telling the real from the fake. He doesn't doubt Larry's capable of sticking around in a swinger's club though. Plus it sounds like there's picture evidence, if only he could get his hands on them.]

Hey.

[There's another laugh here from the kid because, oil? For real? Freddy just doesn't think he's alluring enough to pull off the oiled look but he can roll with it. Watch these arms flex as he reaches up to work his hair too, kind of making a mess sure but this is about having a good time. He has an arm stretched up and back, hand on his own neck. His other hand, well, that one slips down into his own open jeans.]

Yep. Both of them were busy.

[True. Though not in the way he may be thinking of. Busy finding his clothes after getting the boot. He did get to touch both men and women. It was all worth it at the time. That is the truth.]

Keep your arms like that. That's right.

[Click. Click. The whole shot then close ups to his face. Then one for the hand in his pants.]

Take a good handful and really look at me like you're trying to tell me somethin' with your eyes.

[Is it getting warmer in here? Larry loosens his tie a notch.]

[He licks his lips thinking about what those hands were busy doing. Was it strictly straight so he was making women moan or was it fag friendly so he had a shaft to pump that wasn't his own?]

Okay.

[A good handful...and he's got the camera right there. Oh shit is Freddy starting to blush? Sorry Larry it's the whole picture taking deal he's really sort of shy when he's got the spotlight on him even though it's for the old man and himself. Only pretty people get their picture taken like this. Come on Newendyke just think of the camera as a tool completely under White's control. It's not gonna go show anybody. The fact of the matter is, this is a side of him only Larry ever gets to see. Whew.]

Like this?

[That grab is full but still hidden by denim. It's the eyes that are the real kicker. Sharp greens just looking at Lawrence Dimick, looking and trying to see the guy who fucked around a swinger's club, got his picture taken, took them himself, fucked a couple girls in the back room, fucked a couple boys in the shower room. One smooth ass motherfucker.]

[When the kid is on he's on. Larry is sure that it's the degrees of confidence and concentration. Whatever it is he's focusing on or thinking of it gets his eyes looking like they belong to a tiger. Who exactly is going to get devoured and how?]

Exactly like that. Mmmm.

[He kneels to get another frame at his hand holding and hiding his cock. Ain't nobody gonna see this portfolio besides the two of them. Though Larry's sure he'll get off more than once with these. Another click to capture the look in his eyes.]

Keep thinking what you're thinking. It's coming out exactly how I want it.

[Larry got to fuck some dope's wife and responded well enough when he got handsy. It was unreal.]

Kinda roll it in your hand a little. It might be a stretch but look like you enjoy it.

[He's just gotta be like Marlon Brando. Play it fucking super cool. The real test is when the teeth and claws are out and someone's got to eat up the other, every fucking man for himself. Shit Freddy's got it in him to pitch, make no mistake about that, but in this type of scenario the photographer's got all the power. It's how these gigs normally go, except no one's dangerously close to being barely legal and no one's doing anything they don't want to. That's a fucking turn on.]

I'm thinking about you, what you're all about. Why you want pictures of me. If you want anything else out of me.

[Somewhere along the line he put his cigarette out but the smell still lingers under the scent of oil fresh on his skin and the motors still clinging to him. Rolling his palm, fuck he's starting to spring a stiff one just thinking about getting down on all fours for Larry's damn pictures. Freddy thinks about what else he has in that case and if he plans to take pictures of whatever it is on him, in him, whichever.]

I am enjoying it, asshole. [Like he can't tell, fff.]

About me? I'm about [click] serving my art. You know? It's what's true.

[That's what the fucks say in the movies. For a moment he almost believes it is that kind of bullshit That Dick would say. Except what does he know? Nothing.]

You're enjoying you. It takes well to film. This is hot shit. Take it out. Let me see.

[The camera is ready and so is some of that oil.]

Get into it like you want to fuck me.

[Ha.]

[It really is kind of the bullshit that 'dick' would say but coming from Larry he knows he's not trying to be some upper class intellectual fraud, he's just playing the game. Not to say that other guy is a fake or anything, enough about him. This is about Lawrence Dimick and Freddy happens to enjoy this charade too.]

Okay. I can take it out.

[He pulls the teeth on his zip apart achingly slow to make way for his erection. The kid's fist is oiled up from his arm so it makes pumping his own shaft real easy.] I want to fuck you.

[The words practically drip off his tongue like saliva lubricating a cock. Funny how this gets easier as it gets dirtier. Maybe the latter's a good distraction from other picture perfect details. Because his jeans are open and not entirely slim fitting the kid can fit two hands here. One to hold his cock, the other to reach behind himself and...well, the denim's hiding most of what's going on back there isn't it?] Better?

[One shot after another. The floor is getting harder to navigate without stepping on some. Larry scoots them aside to be able to maneuver. He's getting these hands his face, his chest.]

What, you trying to seduce me or some shit?

[Camera in one hand the other pulls up his wifebeater higher to show more skin that he doesn't touch. Another pull at the denim now to make sure it sits just so at his hips as he's sitting. Yeah this means he'll want a shot from the back.]

I'm not gonna lie. You look like you want to get fucked bad.

[There he goes touching him without really touching him again. Is part of the game chicken? Does Larry think he can get Freddy to beg him to fuck him? Well the old man wouldn't be completely off the mark if he keeps touching only his clothes.]

I'm doin' what you told me. Shit you're the professional, if I'm doin' it wrong tell me.

[With his jeans slung low the kid gets down on the mattress, on his back first to point his hard-on straight up. Yep, doing it like this feels way easier. He manages to keep his briefs from slipping down with his jeans as he turns over, cheek to the mattress, ass up, hand still in there and hidden. Only an idiot wouldn't be able to tell what he's doing to himself.]

I said no funny stuff. [The catch is he never said getting fucked is funny stuff.]

[Yes and no. It's the artist and his hot, malleable wad of clay that's taking on a life of its own.]

Keep going. Just don't over do it. We don't want this to be over too soon.

[He's following right behind shot for shot. Now the old man is on his knees. His tie is more loose.]

Why don't you just take off the shirt?

[So that he can go and bring the suitcase over here.]

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