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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Circumstances - 12. A Quick Transaction

A preppy looking guy in his early forties walks up to a less fortunate man his age lying on his back, his arms stretched wide, on a blanket spread in a shady corner of an otherwise sunny parking lot.

The preppy guy asks,”How much do you want to show me your dick?”

“I’m not gonna show you my dick.”

“That wasn’t my question. How much do you want?”

“I’m not gonna show you my dick.”

“How much? Five bucks? Ten? Twenty? Twenty-five? Fifty. A hundred? Two hundred? Five hundred?”

“You wouldn’t give me five hundred bucks just to look at my dick.”

The preppy guy reaches for his wallet. “Five hundred bucks. You show me your dick hard.”

“You didn’t say it had to be hard.”

“Who wants to look at a limp dick? I can do that in a mirror.”

“Now you’re telling me something about yourself.”

“Nothing you didn’t know after I asked my first question.”

The man on the ground stares at the second guy for a moment. Then he sits up. “I’m not showing you my dick.”

The preppy guy takes five new one-hundred dollar bills from his wallet and lets the other man see them. He doesn’t hold them out.

The man on the ground kneels and starts to roll his blanket.

The preppy guy waits

The other man stands.

“I’m not showing you my dick.”

“Five hundred bucks. Five hundred bucks, and all you have to do is drop your jeans, drop whatever shorts you’re wearing, get yourself hard, and it’s yours.”

And he just stands there, holding the money.

The other man looks at it, thinking five hundred bucks won’t last very long. It’ll pay for a cheap room for a week, and some warmish showers. And a chance to wash his clothes and the ones in the backpack he’s been using as a pillow. And a week’s worth of passable meals, and maybe one good dinner. With a decent glass of wine. Then he thinks that half the time he’s hard anyway, looking at the pretty girls or women walking or driving by. It’s his one big pleasure. So all he really has to do is drop his jeans – he isn’t wearing shorts – and it’ll be over in a minute. The guy’s a jerk.

“Can we go somewhere private?” he asks.

“Don’t make this complicated,” the guy with the money says. “Just turn around, face the bushes, and I’ll stand a couple feet away.”

The man thinks for a moment, laughs, then turns. The preppy guy moves to where he can see. The man from the ground reaches for his zipper.

“Stop!” the preppy guy says.

“What?”

“I never wanted to see your dick. I just wanted to give you some money and didn’t want you feeling it was a handout. Now you’ll feel you’ve earned it.”

And he hands the man a thousand dollars, walks to his car, gets in, and drives off. Without looking back.

2019 by Richard Eisbrouch
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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