Poor Man's Son - 30. Chapter 29

July 28, 2000

Rome, Italy

Will

The first thing I noticed when we walked into the club was the music. It was loud and pulsing, and seemed to reverberate through my whole body. It took me a minute to get used to it, and then it was pretty hot. I felt myself moving to the beat involuntarily, which was unusual for me. I’m such a white guy when it comes to dancing: I have no rhythm. That seemed to have changed at this bar. I’d gotten in with no problems at all. The bouncer had asked me for identification, and I’d told him I was from California. It was obvious from my accent that I was a foreigner, so he let me pass, running his hand across my ass as I did.

I looked around the club at all the amazingly hot guys here. Damn, this was a gay man’s paradise. I couldn’t stop gawking, at least not until Berto started laughing at me.

“You are Alice in Wonderland?”

“Duh,” I said, cracking him up.

“How exciting that this is your first time in a gay club. I will try not to be jealous if you pay attention to the other men.” His mouth moved, saying those words, but he didn’t mean them. He would be incredibly jealous if I hooked up with one of these guys. That just made him cuter.

“Nope, not happening. I’m with you,” I said. That got a nice smile.

“Let us get a beer,” he said. “You must not drink anything unless I give it to you, or unless you have seen the bartenders open it or make it themselves.”

“Why? Is the water here bad or something?” I was used to Mexico and all the conventions on not drinking tap water there, but I didn’t think it was a problem in Italy.

“No, our water is as good as yours.”

“Maybe better,” I observed diplomatically.

“Maybe. But that is not why. You are beautiful and young, one of the biggest catches at this club tonight.” I wondered how much of that was just youth, and that made me think of pedophiles and Gustave. I got frustrated with myself. I had to stop thinking of him.

“Yeah? I’m hot. So?” I joked.

“You could get drugged,” he said. “You know, with that drug that is used to have sex with passed out people.”

“The date-rape drug?” I asked. He nodded. “You’re saying I could get roofied here?”

“I am saying it is quite possible,” he affirmed. “I am watching out for you, of course, but it is unsafe for you to not have your, uh, senses about you.”

“Got it. I only take the roofies you give me,” I joked. He led me to the dance floor and for the first time in my life, I actually had fun dancing.

We were dancing when I felt someone come up behind me and grab me, gyrating into my ass. I was about to get pissed off until I saw Berto grin and shake his head.

“You came!” Cristo said into my ear in Italian. I guess Berto had told them I spoke their language, so my days of surreptitious eavesdropping were over.

“In more ways than one if you keep that up,” I joked, getting a big laugh from him. Cristo led us over to a table with some other guys, and of course Rico was there, hanging on some handsome guy they called Ciao. If that guy wasn’t using steroids, he was a freak of nature.

“Look who came out to play,” Rico said to me sarcastically.

I put my arm around Berto. “If I wanted to play, we would have stayed in.” That got me a laugh from everyone else but Rico, who glared at me.

An announcer interrupted the music and started talking about how tonight was a fundraiser for a gay youth home. It sounded a lot like the mission in LA. “My family is involved in a place like that in LA,” I said.

“They are social workers?” Ciao asked sarcastically.

“You might say that,” I said, getting a chuckle from Berto.

“That dude over there,” Berto said, pointing at a guy who was wearing jeans and a polo shirt, “is in charge of this event. He is involved with the group.”

“I need to meet him,” I said.

“Like he has time to talk to you,” Ciao said disdainfully. Clearly Rico had set him up to be a dick to me, that way Berto wouldn’t be pissed at Rico.

“I bet he does,” I said confidently.

“Are you entering the contest?” Rico asked, taunting me.

“The biggest dick contest? Is there one?” I asked.

“Like you would win,” Ciao said.

“I would,” I promised.

“The entry fee is 100,000 lire,” Cristo said. “For the stripping contest.” That was about $50.

“I got your fee, Ciao,” I said, winking at him.

“I am not competing,” he stated.

“It’s for charity,” I said. “Unless you are afraid to show off your body?”

“Fuck you,” he said in English, then relented. “Fine.”

I walked over to the guy and paid my fee, Berto’s, and Ciao’s. “Who runs this youth group?” I asked him.

He looked at me like he was trying to figure out if I was worth talking to. The Armani pants probably convinced him. “Signor Benedetto,” he said.

“So what do you guys do? Do you have a place where kids can stay?”

“You are looking for a place to stay?” he asked me, surprised.

“Hardly,” I said. “My family has been involved in what I think is a similar project in LA.”

“And you are?”

“Will Schluter,” I said, holding my hand out. As he shook my hand, it was funny to watch the wheels in his brain revolve.

“Which mission?”

“The Schluter Mission,” I said. Now he got it.

“You are related to Stefan Schluter?”

“He’s my grandfather,” I announced.

“I can arrange for you to meet him, and see the home if you would like,” he said.

“We’re leaving tomorrow, so it would have to be in the morning on our way to the airport.”

He jotted down some notes. “Here is the address. You may come by anytime you wish.”

“Thanks,” I said, and pocketed the note.

Berto led me over to the contest area. There were three poles on an elevated stage, with guys already dancing around them. “Here is how this works. You must be always touching the pole with some part of your body. You may strip down all the way, but many guys only go down to G-strings.”

“I’m glad I wore one,” I joked.

“You can flirt with the audience, and they can touch you, but no grabbing or groping is allowed. Only open handed touches,” he said. “If you do not want them to, stay away from them. If you get close enough, they will grab, even though it is against the rules.”

“Only one guy per pole?” I asked.

“Sadly,” he said, “Or we could really give them a show.”

“Boy could we,” I said. He leaned in and gave me a really nice kiss. I saw Rico watching us from across the room. Berto followed my eye after he stopped kissing me. “He still loves you.”

“He loves only himself,” Berto said. “It does not matter. I do not love him, but we were close once, and have been friends for a long time, so I care about him.” I wondered if that’s how John and I would end up. I wondered what he’d think about me doing this.

I watched the guys dancing, making mental notes of their techniques. The men crowded around the stage were throwing money at the hot guys, and it looked like a lot, but that was only because it was lire. “What happens to the money?”

“The stripper keeps half, and half goes to the charity,” he said. “The winner is the one who generates the most for charity, so if you want to win, you have to give all the money to the Home.”

“Not a problem.” I would have done that anyway. Rico and Ciao wandered off toward a door. “Where are they going?”

“That is the back room,” he said, watching them. I couldn’t tell if the two of them going off bothered him or not. “You promised not to go back there.”

“I did. You didn’t though,” I said.

“I promise I will not go back there,” he said. “Now we are in the same boat.”

“I like this boat,” I said, flirting with him. We hung out, drank beer, and did shots, but only the ones Berto got himself. I was pretty fucked up, having a blast, when Rico and Ciao returned, looking all flushed.

“You are incredible,” Rico said to Ciao in front of us, but it was such a staged moment it made me snicker. They gave me dirty looks, but Berto smiled at me knowingly.

I’d kind of forgotten why I was there until a guy came up and told us we were on next. Berto, Ciao, and I went up and got ready, taking off our shoes first. Berto took the center pole, with Ciao and me on either side. “You are ready?”

“Yeah,” I said. I was pretty drunk, so I had lost most of my shyness, inhibitions, and modesty. Just as well, I reasoned.

“Remember, make love to the pole,” he said.

“That’s easy,” I said. “All I have to do is look over and see you.” He winked at me and we got up on stage. There were a lot of guys around the platform, yelling cat calls at us. It was actually kind of funny. I got myself into the mood and started circling the pole, holding onto it with my left hand. The crowd was with me, and the more into it they got, the more into it I got. I felt the adrenaline surge.

I pretty much followed Berto’s moves, occasionally glancing over at Ciao, who was pretty lame. Then again, with his body, all he really had to do was take off his clothes. I circled out toward the group of guys and picked an older guy who was well-dressed. Most of the dancers went for the cute young guys, but I knew those guys had no cash. You made money from the older guys. I leaned over so I had my chest close to his face. “Undo my buttons,” I ordered.

He smiled at me and moved forward but I slapped his hand away. “With your teeth.” He swallowed hard, and the crowd roared. He worked a button until he got it undone, then I moved on to the next guy I spotted, then the next one, until all six buttons were open. I pulled the shirt off in a vampy way, twirling it around, then for some stupid-ass reason I tossed it to a hot twink in front. It would fit him. I glanced over at Berto and saw him watching me. He winked at me and nodded to encourage me.

“Who wants to undo my pants?” I asked. “Show me the money.” They laughed and I saw lire flashing in the air. I picked the biggest denomination and went over to the guy, the same older guy I’d started with. I put both of my arms over my head and leaned back, thrusting my crotch out in front of him. “Two of those bills and you can do the zipper too,” I teased. He pulled another one out and tossed it on the stage, then undid my pants and pulled down the zipper. I don’t think he could have groped me more than he did.

All of the attention and eroticism, combined with looking at Berto, had made me hard as a rock. He gasped as he grabbed me. A bouncer moved forward so I moved away from the guy to save him from getting bitched at. I moved close to the crowd, letting them run their hands on my body, trying not to enjoy it too much, then I went back to the center and pulled my pants off.

I had my back to the crowd, so when I turned around and my G-string was tenting way out, I got loud calls. Money flew up on the stage. It was all for a good cause, I rationalized. I moved back out by the guys and let them run their hands across my lower body, but only fleeting glances. “Take it off!” they shouted at me.

I looked over to Berto for approval, and he nodded and winked again. I picked up a lira note from the floor and held it up. They started tossing money on the stage, so much that the bouncer had to scoop it up. I caught sight of another older guy, well dressed. I raised my eyebrows and he pulled out a wad of notes. I ambled over to him and stood in front of him, my dick tenting toward his nose. He started to hand me the money then pulled it back.

“I get to use only my mouth,” he said.

“You got it,” I said, taking his cash. This guy knew what he was doing, and milked it for every minute. It was actually kind of gross, but I felt the bills in my hand and figured that would help me score big. He finally pulled it off of me, letting my big dick flop out. The crowd roared. I spent some time dancing close to the crowd, letting them run their hands on me. It was actually pretty erotic, because I kept looking over at Berto, and just pretended their hands were his.

He kept his G-string on, which made me kind of sad since I knew why, and I knew that it bothered him. He started dancing around the pole and I once again mimicked his moves, wrapping my legs around it and humping it, letting the friction excite me. It was pretty hot now, since I was away from the groping crowd. It was just me and the pole. I undulated against it, squeezing my ass cheeks as I pushed into it, rubbing my cock against the pole. The feel of the cold hard metal was so erotic; more erotic than I imagined.

Inspired, keeping my legs wrapped around the pole, I leaned back toward Berto. I had arched my back completely, with my arms behind me, and that made me so contorted that I could only manage small hip thrusts against the pole. Berto came over and leaned over to me. “You are amazing. You are setting a new standard,” he said. He leaned in and kissed me, and then reading my body, he pulled away and smiled. He knew I was close. He kissed me again, this time with a mission, and let his hand run across my nipples.

That was all it took. I let out a loud bellow, loud since he broke off the kiss when I did, and felt myself explode. The first shot of my orgasm blasted across my body and landed on Berto, while the rest splattered all over my chest. I was feeling totally euphoric, still arched back, looking at Berto upside down, until I looked beyond him and saw Stef in the crowd staring at me. He was sitting at a table, flanked by his guards, with a look of severe disapproval on his face.

“Fuck,” I said, and hurriedly stood up. I knew I was blushing furiously. I tried to be graceful with the crowd, but I was too embarrassed to do it justice. Guys reached out and grabbed glops of my cum off my body, until the bouncer cleared a path for me to the bathroom.

“What is wrong?” Berto asked, following me in. “Did someone do something to you?”

“I’m sorry. After I came and looked out in the audience, I saw Stef watching me.”

“Shit,” he said. He helped me get dressed, only I didn’t have a shirt. “I can go and try to get it back for you.”

“No, let the guy have it. I’ll be fine,” I said.

“If it is any consolation, you set a record for money,” he said.

“That’s good,” I said insincerely. I went back out to the club and found Stefan at his table with his guards.

“That was quite a display,” he observed coolly.

“I got carried away,” I told him. “I’m sorry.”

“I am not sure this is proper behavior for a fourteen-year-old boy.”

“That is the first time I think I’ve heard you use the word ‘proper’,” I teased, trying to get him to loosen up a bit.

I watched him struggle. He was pissed at me because he thought he should be, not because he really was. I’d pushed a bunch of boundaries, and he was in a parental role, so he knew he should be upset. At the same time, I hadn’t done anything he had forbidden me to do, and I hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t have done. “Your father is going to kill me.”

“I raised a bunch of money,” I said, raising my eyebrow.

“I should not wonder,” he said.

“And I didn’t go into the backroom,” I told him.

He relented slightly. “I will have to be more explicit with my instructions in the future.”

I asked one of the guards to go get the contest organizer. “I want you to meet someone.”

“Well, since you know everyone here, it could be anyone,” he said dourly.

“What did you expect? I am your grandson,” I said.

“You are saying I have been a bad role model?”

“You are saying I did not dance well?” I countered.

“It is hard to be mad at you,” he said, smiling. “Keep your pants on.”

“Until we get back to the hotel,” I said. He giggled.

The contest organizer approached, leading another man who was dressed in a tacky suit and tie. “Thank you so much,” he said to me. “You have raised more money than anyone.”

“It was my pleasure,” I said instinctively, then blushed. Stef chuckled.

“This is Signor Benedetto. He runs the group home.”

I stood up and shook his hand, conscious that I was shirtless, and looked like a circuit boy. “Will Schluter. This is my grandfather, Stefan Schluter.” They went apeshit at that. I guess none of them had recognized him when he came in. The guards started whispering, knowing that when he was spotted, it would be chaotic.

Stef was oblivious to those issues. “These men run a home for troubled gay kids,” I told him. “It sounds similar to our mission. That’s who we’re raising money for.”

“Indeed?” he asked. “Tell me about it.” Signor Benedetto described their work, which was similar to what Father Tim was doing but without the religious connection.

I ignored them and scanned the crowd for Berto. I saw him talking to a hot guy who looked familiar, then recognized it was the twink I’d tossed my shirt to. They were smiling and laughing, then flirting. I saw them walking toward the backroom and my heart sank. Their backs were to me, so I couldn’t see their expressions, which was just as well. So many emotions flew through my body, but my internal voice kept screaming ‘but he promised!’

“Will,” Stef said, trying to get my attention, but I ignored him. He said my name again and I held up my hand to silence him. It was a rude gesture but I knew he’d get it when he figured out why I did that. I watched as Berto got to the door of the backroom, to that line in the sand, and felt my world sink when he crossed the line and went back there.

“I’m going back to the hotel,” I announced, turning to them.

Stef looked worried. “I will go with you,” he said. “We will see you in the morning,” he said to Signor Benedetto. They were standing now, kissing each other’s cheeks, and then I had to go through the same thing. I just wanted to get out of here and run back to the hotel.

We were about to walk down the stairs when two thing happened to create complete chaos. First of all, someone recognized Stef, and he was immediately mobbed. Then I saw Berto come charging out of the backroom, looking panicked. He scanned the crowd until he saw me, and then waved at me, motioning me to come over.

“I’ll meet you outside,” I said to Stef. He nodded, and then said something to a guard. The result of that was apparent, because by the time I reached Berto there was another guard watching me.

“You went back there!” I accused.

“I need your help,” he said. “It is Rico. He has been roofied.” I followed him to the entrance to the backroom, the guard with me, and walked into a different world. There were guys back here making out, there was a guy on his knees blowing another guy, and there was another guy off to the side fucking another guy. The deeper into the backroom maze we went, the less making out and the more fucking we saw. We got to the back and found Cristo there, squared off with some guy. Rico was in a sling, his eyes glazed. Presumably the guy Cristo was arguing with had been fucking Rico. When he saw the three of us, he stopped arguing with Cristo and slunk away.

“Help me,” Berto ordered. I gathered up Rico’s clothes and put his pants on him, and then Berto and the guard carried him between them out of the room. I checked to make sure I got all of his stuff, and then followed them. We dragged him out of the club and into the fresh air.

“We need to get him home,” Berto said. It was our last night together, and Rico looked to fuck that up. I tried not to let that piss me off, and while I succeeded there, I couldn’t stop the feelings of disappointment.

“I will do it,” Cristo said.

“I will help him,” the guard said. I looked at Berto as he struggled with the decision. For him, it was much more than just taking Rico home. He was at a great divide. Did he put Rico’s interests first, and take care of him like he probably always did, or did he leave Rico in the capable hands of others? Did he cut the cord? Our eyes met and I could see the struggle inside him. His eyes were hazy with indecision, and then they cleared.

“Thank you,” he said to Cristo. “Here,” he said, handing them money for a cab. We smiled at each other as we walked to the car where Stefan was waiting for us.

He looked at us, surprised. “Rico got roofied,” I told him. “We had to drag him out of the backroom.”

“He is alright?” Stef asked.

“He will be fine,” Berto said.

“So you went into the backroom after all?” Stef asked me.

Shit. “I’m sorry Stef.”

“It was my fault,” Berto jumped in. “I asked him to help me.”

“And do you see why I did not want you to go back there?” he asked me. I could tell by the tone of his voice he wasn’t pissed about it.

“Yeah. That place looked like fun,” I said, freaking him and Berto out. “Or at least it will be in a couple of years.”

“You will drive me to an early grave,” he said to me.

“I’ll bet there are relatives of ours who would say that was payback,” I joked.

“I can think of one in particular,” he said. “Rest in peace, Tonto,” he said as he looked out the window of the car, just as we drove past the Pantheon.