Playing with the Enemy

"You here alone?"

"What if I am?"

"Wanna head over to that corner? It's empty," the young man replied, leaning close to my ear.

I leaned back, eyeing him. I did a quick assessment: $100,000 watch, $5,000 haircut, $300,000 suit.

"Sure," I commented with a smile. Loudly. The club was packed tonight, and the music was blaring.

I moved in front of him, directly to the spot he had indicated with a nod. I turned to face him as he approached. He was tall. My height, maybe taller.

He was slouching and glancing around. I knew the look.

He stepped up to me, then moved to face the wall. I stopped him.

"Ummm, I usually do that," I stated casually, keeping my tone friendly. The kid looked like he needed a friend, and I needed a little fun myself; I didn't want to scare him away.

"Ah. Oh...can you...switch tonight?" he asked, his eyes trembling slightly. Even in the dimness of the room, with the flashing neon strobe lights, his eyes were bright.

He was younger than me, but of age.

I was safe.

"Nah," I called out jovially, "I prefer it that way."

"Oh..." he mumbled, his eyes drifting away as he bit his lower lip. "I...I can pay you. 100,000. What do you say?" he asked, almost pleadingly.

I knew that look too. Someone still new to the game.

I stared him in the eye and took a step forward, getting in his space.

He swallowed. Trembling eyes on my steady ones.

"500,000," I said slowly.

He nodded hurriedly, with barely a second's hesitation.

I assessed him again.

A rich kid. Definitely. But also a careful one. I could guess why he chose me. I was older than many in the club, and I didn't look like a pauper either.

I wouldn't hang on to him. Probably.

I smiled again.

He turned, let his pants down, and I went in. Easily. He had prepared himself.

He gasped and squeezed me, but I kept going, slow at first. I wasn't sure how new he was to this. Then, when he relaxed, I pumped him fast. Not hard, I'm not a brute.

I listened, gauged, and moved with him until he came, his large frame shuddering and slumping against the wall.

I pulled out.

In the darkness of the club, people were fucking everywhere. It was that type of place.

If you didn't want sex, you went somewhere else.

As for me, I mostly liked to watch. And because I'm not that young, I rarely get approached, which worked out just fine.

Tonight, however, someone had made a move, and I was in a good mood, especially after over an hour of spectating.

The kid slid a card into my hand. He leaned in again. "1111, that's the code. The money's in there," he said, gazing at me with the kind of gratitude one reserves for that server or ice cream man who gives you an extra helping of your