Ask Me No Questions

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“You do know that instead of blowing eighty bucks every time you want to…well…get blown, that you could just give me twenty to catch a movie, right?”

“My…friend…is super paranoid. He doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s bi. That’s why he made me promise to never even tell anyone his name, okay?”

Dylan couldn’t believe he had to go over this with Laurie again. She was a fantastic roommate, fun and mostly clean, but she wouldn’t shut up about certain topics; his s*x life being one of them.

“You’re lucky he hasn’t drugged you and put your brain in his freezer.” She leveled her blue eyes at him. “Do I need to show you those Yahoo reports again?”

“He’s not a serial killer!”

“You don’t know anything about him, Dylan.”

Dylan had come home early Saturday morning. He’d slept soundly next to Casey and they’d jerked each other off as soon as they woke up. He’d hoped that Laurie would be sleeping when he got back, but no such luck. He found her sitting in the living room, with a large silver fan aimed at her. She wore a super small pair of shorts and a bra.

“Why are you parading around like that, anyway?”

“It’s ninety five degrees and I can’t get the air conditioner to work. Again,” Laurie said. “And don’t change the subject. I’m starting to think your mysterious motel man is a real dog. Is that why I can’t ever see him? He’s wicked ugly, isn’t he? You just feel sorry for him. Or he’s fat. Is he fat? Are you a chubby chaser?”

“No, Laurie. He’s fit and cute and I’m lucky he’s so horny.”

“At least show me his f*******:!” she whined.

“No way.”

“He doesn’t have a f*******:? Definitely a cannibal.”

“I thought you had to work today?” Dylan occasionally f*******:-stalked Casey, but he wasn’t about to show Laurie his page. He figured she’d try to friend him and ruin everything.

“We’re on alternating weekends, so I get this pleasant, hot-as-f**k Saturday to myself.” Laurie grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on. “Brenda’s almost moved out, by the way.”

“At least her going away party will rock,” Dylan said. “I got a text that Claire can’t make it in today, so I have to hit up the mall for her. You want to go out or something when I get off?”

“Sure, but I’m going to pregame and get toasted before we go,” Laurie said. He was half-surprised that she hadn’t started drinking by the time he got home at eleven thirty in the morning.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“There’s a reggae concert by the park tonight,” Laurie called out to him as he slipped into his bedroom.

“So?”

“So that’s why Claire called out. You know how heady she is.”

“Gotcha. I’ll have her make it up to me.” He shut the door behind him and slipped out of his gray T-shirt. His khaki shorts were clean enough for the mall crowd, but he needed a better shirt, one with a decent collar. He settled on a conservative blue number to match his eyes. Before setting out, he checked the framed autographed picture of Tim Curry hanging on the wall. All that week he’d noticed that the frame kept tilting to one side, toward the signed picture of David Hyde Pierce, but it had finally stopped tipping over. Had he been adjusting it when he drank, or was Laurie playing tricks on him again? Checking his watch, he saw that he didn’t have much time to waste, so he waved goodbye to his roommate and left the apartment, planning on grabbing lunch at work.

Before too long he stood in the center of the local mall’s food court, clipboard in hand, searching out shoppers to harass.

For some reason, Dylan usually picked out the best-looking guys for his marketing surveys. Call it fate, or kismet, or just plain horniness.

Dylan zeroed in on a group of skater punks a year or two younger than him. They were lounging around two square tables by the Chinese restaurant, horsing around and being pretty loud. Dylan would rather interview interesting, fun people than dull middle-aged parents any day of the week.

“Excuse me, hi,” he said, gaining the group’s attention.

“We are not being too loud, asshole,” a goth girl in an incredibly tight black shirt said, her n*****s pointing right at him.

“Be nice,” one of the punks, a lanky guy with blond roots showing on his raven-dyed hair, said. A dusting of light hair sprouted out of his chin. Dylan hoped he had just started growing his goatee, otherwise it would be really sad.

“I don’t care how loud you are,” Dylan said. “I’m not mall security or anything.”

“Right, you’re not sixty and fat,” a short black guy said.

“Right. I am not sixty and fat.” Gaining their trust wasn’t quite going as well as Dylan hoped. “Actually I’m with a marketing and research company, and I was wondering if any of you would like to watch a video and answer some questions for me?”

“What do we get out of it?” the goth girl asked. Her brown eyes bore into him like he was asking her for some Herculean task. Why did self-proclaimed “outcasts” like her feel the need to be such assholes?

“Satisfaction of helping your fellow man?”

“No thanks.”

“You might like the video,” Dylan said, continuing his sales pitch. He was never much of a skater, or a punk, but these were the types of people he wished he could hang out with. He didn’t want to lose the only hope he had of befriending any of them. Or even spending some time with. In school, he usually hung out with the loners and geeks, and the theater crowd in college, so skaters held a mysterious allure to him. “We have some comedies and music videos and stuff. Next weekend’s the taster’s choice, which is a lot more popular.”

The skater punks looked around and laughed. Dylan blushed slightly. He should have hit on the middle-aged women and gotten a group together. That would have helped fill his quota. Instead he’d wasted time on delinquents who didn’t give a f**k about anything.

“Well, if you change your minds—”

“I’ll do it,” the lanky guy said. He spun around and tossed the remains of his Chinese take-out in the garbage bin. Dylan noticed he wore a dark red cast around his right arm from the elbow to the wrist, wrapping around his thumb like a homeless guy’s cutoff gloves. “I’ll catch up with you guys later on.”

“Whatever,” the girl said, and then turned back to the rest of her friends. Dylan guessed the tall guy wasn’t very tight with them.

“Great. Cool. Come this way.”

The lanky guy stood up, and Dylan realized he was about half a foot taller than himself.

“I’m Trenton,” he said. Dylan got his first real good look at the guy. He wore a tight blue shirt advertising some orange soda he barely recognized and even tighter black jeans with a thick belt buckle.

“Dylan. Lakewood.”

The two left the group of skaters behind, snickering to each other. Dylan was proud that one of them had given him any time.

“How’d you get the cast?” Dylan asked as he led Trenton past the food court, to their offices.

“Skating mishap,” he said. “You ever broken anything?”

“Nope.” Dylan noticed Rebecca and Josie leading a group in the conference room. He waved haphazardly to them through the windows and snaked around to a smaller room in the corner of the mall without any windows. It held a TV and VCR, as well as some paperwork and a water cooler.

“Heh, I was half-expecting you were going to mug me or something.”

“And you came with me anyway?” Dylan asked. He was baffled that someone could view him as a killer, let alone come with him after those fearful thoughts.

Trenton shrugged. “Nothing else to do. My friends are kind of being tools today.”

“Sorry. Take a seat.” They sat a foot away from each other at a small circular table. “We’re actually working on a few different projects right now. Are you in any sort of hurry?”

“Like I said, my friends are being tools.”

“Great. I mean, not great, but that works for me. Most people only have five minutes.” Dylan wished his mouth wasn’t moving anymore, but he couldn’t help it. Trenton watched him with a steady gaze, giving nothing away, like a pro-poker player. “I have a twenty-three minute TV pilot for a comedy series and then some questions about it that should last five to ten minutes. Is that cool?”

“Start her up.”

“Cool.” Dylan stood back up and raced to the TV. He shut the fluorescent lights off once the video started and sat back down. Trenton reclined in his chair, folded his arms, and watched the pilot. Typically Dylan would leave the room, especially since he’d seen this video twice before, but he felt planted in his seat and watched Trenton watch the show. Trenton didn’t take his eyes off the video. He laughed a few times with the soundtrack and seemed to enjoy himself. That was a huge turn-on for Dylan. He hated cynical people, maybe because he felt a little too cynical at times. He realized his own mood relied too heavily on people around him.

Twenty-three minutes felt like five minutes, and the comedy was soon over. Dylan hopped to his feet and clicked the lights back on.

“So, that’s the pilot. I have, uh, background questions, and then we’ll get into specifics of what you thought about it. Do you want any water?”

“Sure.”

Dylan filled two paper cups full of water and sat back down next to Trenton. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Trenton said, but he didn’t even look at his water. “I was thinking, if you’re going to ask me personal questions, I should get to ask you some stuff, too.”

“Sorry? What?”

“You know, like Silence of the Lambs. Quid pro quo. You ask me something, I ask you something,” Trenton explained.

Dylan frowned. No one had ever cited Silence of the Lambs as a way to get to know him better. It would have been a massive waste of time if he didn’t agree and Trenton left. Plus Rebecca and Josie saw him come in with someone, so he needed to produce a filled-out survey, and he would never fake one.

“Okay.”

“Cool.” Trenton saddled up to the table, looking interested in the proceedings for the first time.

“First up, what is your age?” Dylan asked, pen wavering over the first sheet of paper on his clipboard.

“Twenty-two.” Trenton leveled his gaze and brushed the dyed hair out of the way. “How ‘bout you?”

“Twenty-four. About how—”

“Really? You barely look twenty.”

“Sorry to fool you,” Dylan said, having no clue what Trenton meant by that. “Uh, about how much TV do you watch in a week? Between zero and five hours. Six to ten. Eleven to fifteen. Sixteen to twenty. Or more?”

“Are we counting TiVo?”

“Yes.”

“Eleven to fifteen, I guess. Never really counted.”

“That’s fine. Thanks. So what type of programming—”

“Whoa, next question’s mine, Dylan.” Trenton grinned wide, showing a set of almost perfect teeth. His incisors were slightly too long and at an angle.

“My bad.” Dylan blushed slightly.

“What type of music are you into?”

“Uh, more of a classic rock guy. Tom Petty, David Bowie, that sort, but most anything. Remixes, techno, whatever,” Dylan replied.

“Cool.”

“What type of programming do you typically gravitate toward?” Dylan asked, returning to his questionnaire.

“Comedies, stuff on History like Pawn Stars. Some reality shows. I’m obsessed with Game of Thrones. Mostly comedies, though, like I said.”

“I love Game of Thrones,” Dylan said. “You read any of the books?”

“Not a big reader.”

“Ah, I bet you don’t like spoilers, huh?”

“Course not. Man, you’re bad at this. I get three questions to ask now.” Trenton admonished him, but he looked like he was loving it.

“Damn, sorry.”

“It’s cool, dude. So, are you into guys, or what?”

“Uh-uh-um…” Dylan’s eyes bulged. He’d never been asked that point blank by a stranger before. He looked around the room, but there was nothing to help him.

“You can say yes, Dylan,” Trenton politely nudged him. “It’s totally cool.”

“Yes.” Dylan gulped, quite nervous. He never knew how someone would react when they heard he was gay. Maybe they’d laugh, or say it was awesome, or maybe they’d beat him up.

“Nice. Do you like tall guys with dyed hair?” Trenton asked, a twinkle in his hazel eyes.

“Yeah, I do.” Dylan’s confidence grew with Trenton’s positive attitude. He had the feeling Trenton was into guys as well.

“Good answer, Dylan man,” the skater said, bopping his head up and down. He absentmindedly scratched at his elbow, where the red cast ended. “Next question—you ever suck off a dude you were surveying?”

“Never.” Dylan shook his head, immediately aware of the hard-on growing in his shorts. He eyed Trenton’s entire body up and down, from the blue and gray Sketchers to his blonde roots.

“Your question,” he said, prodding Dylan back to reality.

“Sorry. Uh, on a rating of one to ten, how much did you enjoy the pilot?” Dylan asked as he stood up and made his way to the door. “One is not at all, and ten is incredibly.” He clicked the lock on the door, ensuring no one would barge in on them.

“Seven,” Trenton replied, long lashes covering eyes glued on Dylan. “On the same rating of one to ten, how much do you want to suck my c**k right now?”

“At least a nine.”

Trenton stood up and for just an instant Dylan feared he would pounce on him and beat him up or call for help or something. Instead, Trenton unzipped his dark jeans, revealing a flash of red briefs underneath that nearly matched his cast.

Dylan’s heart started racing, his palms sweating slightly. It was like watching a Christmas gift being slowly unwrapped. It had been quite a while since Dylan felt that level of excitement. He hadn’t felt amazed or curious with Casey in years and there had hardly been a guy in the last year since he screwed around with that Latino guy that had to leave town.

Trenton unclasped his silver belt and opened his jeans up several inches, revealing his bulging briefs. Dylan’s eyes caught a few inches of his flat, taut abdomen. There was a well-defined V dipping into those briefs. Trenton brushed his hand over his well-trimmed blond pubic hair and hooked the rim of his underwear with both thumbs.

“One to ten, how much do you want this now?”

“Ten.”

Trenton nodded his approval and lowered his briefs a few inches, allowing his c**k to spring free. It pointed at Dylan in a forty-five degree angle.

Still sitting, Dylan admired the c**k, just a foot and a half from his face. The purple head was cut and big. He guessed the whole member was around eight inches long at the very least.

“You’re practically drooling, dude,” Trenton pointed out. “What the f**k are you waiting for?”

Dylan reached out and grabbed Trenton’s d**k. It was silky smooth to the touch. He gently pumped it for a few seconds before leaning forward. He darted his tongue out, running it along the circumference of the head.

“Mmmmm.” It grew even larger from Dylan’s attention.

Trenton’s right hand, the one in the cast, rose up to Dylan’s ear and gently caressed him. His other hand ran across his own abdomen, slowly rubbing his flat tummy.

Dylan opened his mouth wide, careful not to rub his teeth against Trenton’s large head, and dove onto his d**k.

“Oh, yeah,” Trenton moaned. “Suck that cock.”

Dylan pumped the shaft while he sucked exclusively on the knob. He’d dreamed since he got this job of finding a hottie to screw around with, but of course it never happened. A light chill crept over his body as he felt the root of Trenton’s thick d**k. He squeezed it, and then worked the few inches between the base and his mouth with his fist. It wasn’t long before he tasted some precum leaking into his mouth. Dylan dropped his hand back some, slightly squeezing the base so he could swallow more of Trenton’s c**k. He got about half of it in his mouth before his eyes started watering.

“Mmmm, keep that up.” Trenton brushed through Dylan’s hair, his cast rubbing his head. He started bucking his slender hips forward, forcing another inch of his c**k in Dylan’s mouth.

Dylan couldn’t believe how turned on he was. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He’d fantasized about it plenty, but he would have put good money on it never actually happening. He finally unbuttoned his pants with his free hand. His own blue briefs were getting soaked in precum. He jerked off frantically while Trenton rocked back and forth harder and harder.

“Dude,” Trenton said breathlessly. “Dude!”

Dylan took the cue and pulled his head off from Trenton’s spasming c**k. He tightened his grip and pulled up and down on the entire shaft. It was so hot, jerking Trenton and himself off in the same steady, powerful rhythm.

Trenton’s body tensed and he started to moan, so Dylan aimed the c**k toward the floor just as it erupted, sending several long strands of c*m in quick unison. Dylan watched Trenton’s body twitch for a second before he leaned back in his chair, bit his lip, and shot his own load on the floor.

Both men panted in quick succession, watching their d***s shoot thick globs of c*m on the carpet.

“I would have helped you out, dude,” Trenton said as he pulled his softening d**k out of Dylan’s hand and then stuffed it back in his briefs.

“Really?” Dylan panted. “Damn.”

Luckily there was a paper towel dispenser by the water cooler, so Dylan hurried to it and ripped off several sheets.

“Do you want to just read the questionnaire yourself and fill it out while I clean up?” Dylan asked.

“Uh, I really have to take that thing? Can’t you make s**t up?”

“I’m really not supposed to,” Dylan said as he got down on his knees by the puddles of c*m on the carpet.

“But sucking me off is kosher?” Trenton asked.

“I don’t remember my boss saying I couldn’t.”

Trenton scooted his chair to one side to give Dylan more room and then sat down and filled out the questionnaire fairly quickly. He stood up and walked toward the door as Dylan threw the dirty paper towels in the small, white receptacle.

Trenton unlocked the door and asked, “You said you’re doing a taste test here next weekend?”

“Yeah. Saturday afternoon.”

“See you then.”