Chapter One - Reticular Formation (continued)... Part II – Trust Me, Love Me, Fuck Me Once there were open fields and countryside.

It never really gets light, time passes in darkness, beneath shades of grey. And it is always wet, constantly raining. Joel knew it hadn’t always been like this. No, actually, he didn’t remember anything different, but then he didn’t remember anything.

He had this image of Charlie, but he was not sure who Charlie was. The picture in his head was of a young boy watching pod casts. Only it wasn’t exactly a picture. More like knowing it was a young boy there, looking at the screen. The name Charlie, he associated that name with the boy – he had no idea why?

The videos showed animals roaming across vast open countryside. All that was just plain weird, like reading about evolution and dinosaurs. You supposed it all existed millions of years ago. That’s what they told you. Really who cares? Where’s the connection with Now?

Joel kind of liked the rain, that is, if he was inside – not getting wet. Just looking at it was relaxing, comforting.

Charlie. Who the hell was Charlie? He couldn’t get the name out of his head. Charlie, Charlie, Charlie!

“It’s all fake news, everything,” Grif told him, and he sort of believed what Grif said.

“Doesn’t matter, my memory doesn’t work back past yesterday.”

“Yeah, it does. It’s just kinda lost a bit.”

“Grif!”

“Yeah, What?”

“You’ve got a fucking answer for everything.”

“Guess!” Grif fell silent.

The heating didn’t work in here. Mostly that wasn’t any sort of problem, except now Joel felt cold. He was actually shivering.

Griffin could feel Joel trembling. He pulled the thick blanket up the bed and snuggled in close, trying to share his own body warmth.

“I would never have imagined this,” Joel broke the silence, turning his head to regard Grif, a faint smile on his face.

“I love when you smile.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get you warm,” Grif returned the smile.

“Oh yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s this then?” Joel’s hand had come to rest on Grif’s cock.

There was no reply, silence. Only the buzzing of the neon tube insinuated itself into the calm.

Grif rolled over on top of Joel, who wrapped his arms around his back – they kissed. Grif’s hard cock was pressing into his belly.

“Charlie.”

“What? Who’s Charlie?”

Joel didn’t reply straightaway. Instead he reached down with both hands and gripped Grif’s buttocks. He loved the way they felt – he gave a little squeeze. Grif moved his hips – pushed his cock into Joel’s belly.

“I don’t know. I’ve got that name going round and round in my head. And pictures.”

“Pictures?” Grif was curious. “What pictures?”

Joel could feel the sticky pre-cum oozing from Grif’s cock. “Yeah pictures. Images.”

“I know what pictures are you idiot.” Grif’s lips found Joel’s, for the moment silencing any reply. He lifted his hips and pushed back down, sliding his wet cock against Joel’s now moist skin.

“I could fuck you,” Grif told him as he released his lips.

Joel smiled.

□□□□□

Joel wondered exactly what Grif was doing on the street after curfew? He never explained. Maybe he had forgotten to ask? Shit his head was still all mixed up and the drugs didn’t help. You had to wonder if it wasn’t some kind of plan. Keep the kids vague, keep them soft, and all sexed up!

Of course he knew straightaway what the club was. He had no idea how it worked, but it didn’t take long to find out.

He asked Grif “Why BB Club?” But the answer he got was enigmatic. “BB,” Grif told him, “stands for whatever you want. Bare Boys, Boy’s Boys, Banging Boys, Beautiful Boys.” He’d smiled sort of sarcastically when he’d said that last one. “I prefer Beautiful Boys.” Grif told him.

One of those statements you could take two ways. He either liked to think of himself as beautiful or he just liked beautiful boys. It was probably both? Griffin was good looking, cute, sexy, all those things.

Joel was not attracted to other boys, not sexually – at least he couldn’t remember being. Maybe he had? Whatever, here he was, in bed with Grif. And, he’d just let him fuck him. And... Yeah, hell, he’d enjoyed it!

He paid his way, but he didn’t enjoy it so much, performing for the customers. They were the elite, the well off. They were the ones in control.

The drugs were good. God they really were good. But they played with his head, so the fog never lifted. Like the darkness and the rain outside, Joel felt like he was seeing everything through a mist. The sex was real enough though. Mega real!

“You were quite a find,” Grif was laying on his back in bed staring at the ceiling.

“No kidding! I bet you could hardly wait?” Joel propped himself up on one elbow, looking across at Grif.

“Hard, that’s the key word. Everything is fucking hard.” Grif folded his arms behind his head.

“I never asked you, did I?” Joel starred at him.

“Asked me what? If I... love you?”

“If?” Joel lapsed into vagueness. His eyes followed Grif’s to look up at the ceiling.

The neon light flickered, buzzed, faded and got bright again.

“No, I never asked you why you was out on the street after curfew. What the fuck you were doing when we met.”

“No you never asked.”

“Well?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“You heard. Nothing! I needed some air.”

“It was pissing down. I was fucking soaked to the skin. And you needed air.”

“Listen. And lay off the swearing. We’re living in a basement with no windows, right?” Joel raised his eyebrows as if in some sort of acknowledgement to that statement of the obvious.

“Well,” Griffin ignored his reaction. “I just needed some fucking air!”

“Whose swearing now?” Joel lay back down.

He knew he wasn’t going to get the truth. That’s how Grif was. Nice guy, but avoided the truth. He was exactly like that when Joel first got here. He was like that when telling him about the clients, what he needed to do, what they liked.

Grif crawled back on top of him. Wiped Joel’s hair out of his eyes. He looked into those eyes. The fucking neon light buzzed again and hummed. Grif kissed him.