Waldo worked as a file clerk in an obscure agency in the bowels of City Hall from eight thirty to five. Nights they spent at The Hide ’n Seek where Pete stationed Bill near the fire escape door in case the police came and he had to make a quick exit. Waldo introduced Bill to his many friends and protected him from what he called “the chicken hawks.”

These, Waldo explained, were older men with a penchant for younger men “as close to illegal as they can get. And, hon, you’re their wet dream. They’ll use you like a cum rag and throw you away.” Bill appreciated that Waldo watched out for him, but he sometimes wished the older boy was a little less protective. He often felt like a child in a candy shop, permitted to look but not to touch the bright and delicious looking wares behind the glass counters. One night he was hanging around Pete, mooning over a guy playing pinball who looked like a grown-up version of Marco.

“What’s wrong, pup?” Pete asked him.

“Um, nothing,” Bill said, unconvincingly.

“Come on, Billy, you can tell daddy.”

Bill shrugged. “I’m tired of just being gay in my head.”

Pete looked at him, curiously. “You telling me you haven’t had sex?”

Bill felt himself go red. “Well, there was one time, with my friend Marco.”

“What did you do?”

Bill, still flushing, mumbled, “Um, I guess it was a blowjob?”

“You gave him one or he gave you one?”

“Me,” Bill said.

“And that’s it? Otherwise you’re a virgin?”

“Yeah.”

Pete lifted Bill’s face in his hand and said, “Wow! A good-looking boy like you? That’s a crime.” With a slow, sexy smile, he said, “I could take care of that for you if want.”

Mouth suddenly dry, Bill could only nod.

“I’ll swing by your place tomorrow around noon.”

When Bill let Pete into the apartment, he noticed Pete was older than he looked in the dimly lit bar. There were strands of gray in his thick black hair, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the skin covering his big biceps was a little leathery. Somehow, though, these imperfections only made him sexier. Pete wore his customary black muscle shirt and tight Levi’s, the ones with buttons instead of a zipper, sanded down at the crotch to emphasis his bulge.

Pete glanced around the apartment. “I never seen Waldo’s pad this clean. That has to be your doing. He’s a pig.”

“Um, yeah, I wanted to do something for him for letting me stay here.”

Pete nodded, closed the distance between them in a single step and put his arms around Bill’s waist. “I’ve been thinking about you since I woke up. Had to keep from jerking off.”