Thursday, June 21, 2007

Life after The Sleaze

‘Hallebloodylujah! I have to skip lunch for a week and attend the service for four straight fucking Sundays. Can you fucking believe the fucking cheek?’ Sandeep did not even give Wench enough chance to close the door and turn on the music.

‘Gosh.’

‘Why me lord? I am not even Christian for Chrissake.’

The chapel at The College had nothing and everything to do with Christianity. The Warden or ‘Chancellor Sir’ as he was called, the show runner of everything the college had to offer, prided on the secularity of it all. Even a theosophist had attended their very popular service once or so he claimed.
He was a Pentecostalist as he called himself.
Chancellor Sir did not believe rock music or yoga to be satanic. He wanted his students to grow into healthy, wealthy and wise citizens. He did not make it compulsory for every hostel resident to attend the service until they crossed their respective lines. Sandeep knew he did not like him. He had left in the middle of the year to live with some middle aged man. He had come back again.
He had been late more than once. Chancellor Sir did not know what other things he might be into but he could smell a rat when it was not afraid.

‘Anyway. Let not the one with the sick dick spoil our wonderful evening. Tell me about your hunky hunk. He seemed a bit slow.’

‘He’s Iranian.’

‘That’s no excuse for illiteracy.’

‘Fuck off Sandeep. He is not illiterate. He is already a graduate and now he is studying sociology and human rights in English at the South Bombay Snob Graduate School ’ Wench spoke in a single breath.

Words
They cut like a knife
Cut into my life
The cool pink sheep of Sandeep’s Real Player™ was following every single beat and breath of Madonna.

‘Fine. It’s OK to fall in love with such a stud muffin and it’s definitely OK to utter your first ever Fuck Off. Now don’t bite your lower lip in that actress-y manner. It annoys me.’ Sandeep always kept a microscopic period between the O and K of his Oks.

Wench Boy rolled his eyes.

‘And and and and…I got good news for both of us.’ Sandeep nearly screamed, which was a spontaneous reaction on finding his voice muffled by the tight tee as it got stuck about his neck as he tried to peel it off.

Wench helped him.

‘I am gonna star in a little gay movie.’

‘Wow. Like wow.’

‘I know. And and and…If you are a little bit talented I may have a job for you.’

‘Oh my God. Ok that’s like a lot for a day. Tell me about the movie first.’

Saturday, June 16, 2007

The Sleaze V

Wench Boy had not lost the track of time.
Just three minutes to quarter to twelve.
The cabs outside would be ready. Like all the good Bombay cabs. You can depend on one to save your life or dignity.

On Saturdays they were allowed to be out till midnight.
You think a fairy tale moment would have suited Wench’s candy floss taste buds but he felt nothing but sadness. Darius’ arms were so comfortable. He had not known the comfort a man’s arms till now.

‘I have to leave.’ He barely reached his ear as he stood on his toes to whisper in the very tall Darius’ ears.

‘What you say?’

‘I have to leave.’ He had to shout.

‘Why?’

‘I am sorry.’ Darius let him wriggle out of his arms and look about for Sandeep who suddenly appeared as if on cue.

‘Hi! I am Sandeep’

‘HI.’

‘Let’s go.’ Wench was beginning to feel panic bubble under his feet. He turned around to find the door almost in his face.

‘It was nice meeting you. Bye.’ Sandeep said courteously. He did not know what Wench’s problem was.

‘Wait!’ Darius called out to Wench as he rushed to cross the Causeway.

‘Bye. It was nice meeting you.’ Sandeep repeated himself as he watched Darius ignore him and rush to Wench who was already in a cab.

‘You did not give me number. Don’t go so soon. Will I see you again?’ He hung on to the window and peered inside. Wench could smell beer on his breath that mixed with his own subtle fragrance.

How come I didn't smell him when we kissed?

Wench noticed how cute his accent was.
He smiled.

‘I don’t have a cell. I can give you my hostel number.’
‘You can call on my cell. We are roomies.’ Sandeep said coolly as he got in the taxi.
Darius ignored him again.

‘Why are you leaving so soon?’

‘Hostel fuckfew.’ Sandeep said before Wench could open his mouth.
Laughing he added, ‘I mean curfew.’

‘What is hostel curfew?’

Wench suddenly realized his alienness but there was no time for explanations. They had just ten minutes left.

‘Call on 9832167666’, Sandeep said. ‘We gotta go.’
Darius took out his phone and stored the number as Sandeep repeated it slowly.

They were exactly 3 minutes late. God knew the driver had driven his best to reach marine drive.
They were shown the door to the warden.

‘Wench Boy, this is your first time.’ I’ll let you go. Be careful.’ The warden turned to the year older resident and tried not to thunder.

‘You stay!’

Friday, June 15, 2007

The Sleaze IV

The DJ had reached his Bollywood remixes middle age. But it was only 11:30.
Wench Boy had no idea what the time was as he gazed a full gaze on this god awesomely gorgeous creature. Well, at least Wench Boy thought he was god awesomely gorgeous. He could not make out in the dark that Randeep did not have a terribly gifted plastic surgeon. However, he did not look his full 40 something years in the disco dark.
And if you were really sensitive his bloodshot blue lensed eyes spoke scores of his mid life crisis.

‘How do you know each other?’ Randeep stessed on ‘you’.

‘We are roomies.’ Sandeep quipped. ‘Could you excuse us.’ At this he turned to face Wench almost blocking his view. ‘I have to show Wench something.’

Randeep turned to go back to his place under the discoball.

‘What the hell?’ Wench Boy was predictably cross.

Sandeep took him by his skinny arm and dragged him to the lounge area where a few persons in white and few regulars sat rather comfortably. The area lacked any bit of the energy the dance floor radiated. Wench could feel the sudden bout of lethargy hit his bones. As if someone had surprised him by spraying Barbiturates on his face. He had pictured the lounge as a decaying eighteenth century orgy room. Sandeep had lied to him about the red curtains and stained velvet couches. Lethargy mixed with a sense of betrayal. Evidently no one was doing anything. Save for some hardy bargainers, others did not even talk. Sandeep still held his arm and it began to smart.

‘Leggo! You’re hurting me.’

‘You know who that was?’ Sandeep practically hissed.

Wench Boy realized he had met someone bad news and as if Sandeep had read his mind he said, ‘He is not just bad news he is dangerous.’

‘Oh.’

‘Stay away from trouble. I need to pee and collect some numbers and maybe a blowjob.’

‘Anyone else I need to know about.’

‘Nopes.’

Clutching his glass, Wench nervously looked around again. The whirring of the fan annoyed him. He decided to go back to the dance floor.
Someone tapped on his shoulders.

‘Hi.’ The tall and wispy eyelashed man smiled the sweetest smile Wench had not known.

‘Hi’

‘I’m Darius.’ He said curving his thin lips so they appeared even more delicate.

Wench knew he did not have much time to waste. He barely had 15 minutes before making his Cinderella getaway.

‘I’m Wench Boy. Wanna dance?’

Darius never wasted time.

By the time Randeep came out of the loo after a blowjob and no phone numbers, Wench Boy had already had his first real kiss. Real because he never considered the sole kiss his filthy neighbour had given him at the age of six. Wench did not remember exactly how it had happened.
He did not remember that he had made him open his mouth wide, pushed his toungue in and after withdrawing it had spit into his mouth followed by an attempt to suck on his tounge. Wench had conveniently erased it all from his memory. He could only recall the self censored vesion where the young man had simply bit his toungue.

He figured it did not even qualify as a kiss. It was just a spontaneous act of violance.

Darius' thin lips felt more healing than Avon’s Strawberry Lip Balm. And more than healing him they actually made him see fire works. Or maybe it was the disco lights.

No it had to be fire works.

How could the lights have penetrated his shut eyelids? For a brief moment Wench could stop thinking. He did not even think about thinking.

The music was unashamedly upbeat but Darius and him danced as if to a husky rock ballad.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

The Sleaze III

He was watching over his ward like a perfect invisible fairy god mother.
But things might get out of hand.
He walked over to where Randeep chatted up Wench as he giggled slurping his Rum and Coke.


Just like a moronic insipid wench, Sandeep thought.


He did not hate Wench.

God no.

Neither was he jealous of him. That would be unthinkable.
After all, all Wench had was potential and even if he became a bigger star than Sandeep, he would always remain pale in comparison.

Always.

‘Hey you.’
Wench could not figure for whom the greeting was meant as he seemed to look at both of them.

‘Sandeep! Meet Randeep.’

‘We know each other.’ Randeep flashed his shiny white teeth.

Wench thanked God for divine distraction. Now he could look below Randeep’s neck.

‘How are you Mr. Chaabra?’ Randeep offered his hand.

Wench was shocked but Sandeep seemed unfazed.

Maybe he didn’t hear. Oh please God. Please.

Everybody knew Sandeep hated to be called by his last name. He had beaten up his father for giving him a name he was ashamed of. He had sworn to God he would change it as soon as he started earning his own money.

He just stood there.
Then he smiled a wicked smile.

‘How are you Mr. Rajput?’ They shook hands.

I should have called him the cradle snatcher, he thought.

No wait.

Cradle Cannibal would be more like it.

Randeep Rajput was the city’s notorious sadist.

But he was what they call in the chatrooms, ‘Discreet’.

Ridiculously discreet.

He would find a victim only a few times in a year. Most of them unsuspecting out of towners.
Sadly he was made conspicuous not by his religious attendance at The Sleaze and the parties but by the fact that he never hooked up with anyone.

‘And with a great bod like that. Something’s got to be wrong.’, somebody once said.

Friday, June 8, 2007

The Sleaze II

The Sleaze was on the top floor of the four story building.

Sandeep and Wench arrived breathless to unsettle Old Maid a little who sat behind his counter since 1970-something. He was the first to give Bombay a pub outside five star hotels. He christened it The Flip. It only had a bar and a small dance floor. Later he added a mezzanine floor, rest rooms and what he called the ‘extension room’ where there was no air conditioning save for a tall standing fan besides faux leather couches and a coffee table. He started calling the place a club and by mid eighties it had become The Sleaze. Most people had even forgotten the velvet rope they had waited before.
"The assholes." He would think.
He had gotten it from New York.
Lucky for him there was plenty of space in the hallway and he was on top of the world when he had come back.
It had been fantastic.

Old Maid stopped bothering so much after a while. There was good money in the men and women in white who kept his bread warm with butter and occasional caviar.
And the place was still gay on weekends.

"Beware. The DJ sucks." Sandeep giggled as he whispered in Wench’s ear.

Old Maid did not stare at the out of breath school girls trying not get hysterical yet. He was too professional for that. It was rush hour at 11 and he was busily issuing little tokens for 600 a piece that got you entrance and two beers.
Wench Boy had already handed Sandeep his share for he thought it proper for one of them to pay. He could not help the education he got from Miss Manners’ Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior. Besides, everybody would think he was with the cute Sandeep.

The heavy door opened and Wench Boy entered.

Sandeep was glad Donna Summer was playing. "The DJ must be on Acid." He smiled at Wench.
"Maybe he just got lucky today." Wench replied.

The first thing Wench noticed was an androgyne in jeans, and a flowing knee length skirt jumping about like a live fish salad. The walls were covered with graffiti in neon colours. The white bustiers, saris and trousers and tanks dotted the place proportionately and aesthetically amidst unwashed bag packers, mostly pudgy middle aged men and the athletic bodied, curly haired guy in an open waist coat and cowboy hat who danced in the middle of the floor, under the disco ball. He had noticed Wench as soon as he walked in. Wench did not see him till Sandeep disappeared on purpose.

Wench got a drink and danced a little dance in a corner keeping his eyes on the nipple flasher and was careful enough to stay away from the ugly and old losers as Sandeep had advised.

He pointed at Wench and beckoned him with his index finger.

Yuck!

He beckoned again.

Double Yuck!

"Hi! I am Randeep." He had to swallow his pride and come all the way to the corner just to teach this little twinkie a lesson or two.
Wench thought he heard him say Sandeep.

"What’s your name?" He whispered a wet whisper in his ear on the pretext of loud music.
Wench did not shiver.

"I am Wench Boy."

"Where are you from?" Randeep flashed a thoughtful look.

"Navabganj."

"Where is that?"

"In Uttar Pradesh."

Sandeep bit his lower lip observing the twosome.
"What idiocy is he about to commit now?" He wondered.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

THE SLEAZE, the club

(Continued from The Pilot…)

He came here via the innocently sleazy joint called The Sleaze.

Sandeep had promised him not much of a rose garden but Wench was going to find enough to keep him happy for days.
Weeks maybe.
"Not months", Sandeep thought. "He isn’t that hopeless.

Although he knew the precise point where Wench Boy would go wrong.

"Sandeep! What should I wear?" Wench lifted Sandeep’s skinny Spiderman tee shirt they had bought from Churchgate up his shoulders hoping his nipples would catch his eyes. It turned out to be too tight for Sandeep but fit Wench like a dream.

Wench Boy was learning the nuances of kitsch.

"Super heroes are cool but local super heroes like Shaktimaan are even better. The trashier the snobbier. It’s as simple as that. You may sport a Roy Lichtenstien on your chest but everyone has done that once. How many self proclaiming chic people in India would wear Hrithik Roshan or Sharukh Khan?"

He had made sense.

"Say something?" Sandeep was lost in his thoughts.
Their hostel room door was closed as usual. Most boys kept theirs open. Even when they changed clothes. In fact they were encouraged to do so. The warden liked the idea of lack of privacy. But they were asked to shut themselves after 9 and to only go out to pee pee or poo poo, shower optional.
Such a contradiction was beyond Sandeep’s understanding.

"So if he doesn’t want to us to have sex with each other why must we endure each other’s half naked bodies in broad daylight?" He would muse.
He later figured that the warden must belief that students get antsy only after dark when the lazy guard retires.

Queens need privacy the most and everyone should know that.

The boys giggled over the conspicuous shut door often among other behavioral peculiarities of Sandeep and Wench. Sandeep was still better off. He showed traces of machismo, now and then. Wench Boy could never.

"What should I wear?" He persisted as Sandeep stared about blankly.
He was proceeding to take off his jeans to try on Sandeep’s silk pajamas.
Lately he had become comfortable being naked around Sandeep.
Sandeep did not have to work hard on that.
Although Wench still had trouble stifling a hard on when Sandeep took off his clothes. So they took turns without Sandeep being aware of it. Never would you catch them both naked at the same time.

"Wear your Spiderman." He said in a matter of fact tone.

"But it reaches my navel and I don’t have low rise jeans. All I have is stuff from Paleo Age."

"Get a life!"

Night fell and Wench did a bad job with his mono brow.

They would go to Colaba. Have burgers and bacon at Mondegar and head to The Sleaze, the club that sat sandwiched between Leopold and a shoe shop.
11 should be OK. Only the hookers in shiny white would be early.

"One. Two Three. Go!" Sandeep started running up the stairs.

He never fails to shock me.

Wench Boy loved all the stupidity Sandeep Chaabra had to offer and he consumed it all with utmost fervor.

(to be continued…)

Saturday, June 2, 2007

Super Twink: The Pilot: Introducing, Wench Boy

Young twinkie

Bottom

Macho man

Top


Top

Bottom

Top

Bottom

Top

Bottom


Fuck off

Fuck off

Fuck off





It was really sad.

You think Bombay is a liberal city.

Wench Boy thought so too. Till he lost his virginity. At the age of 19 (too late i know). He was slim. Petite in fact, about 5'7" tall, had shaved off his head recently after and argument with his father, hazel eyes and like he claimed on the Chat, was also-fair/cln shaven/cute.
Last night was his first time at The Sleaze.
And to his surprise he had actually met a cute guy who wanted to sleep with him.

WOW.
Like WOW.

Darius liked Wench. He was Iranian. Stereotypes aside, he was a product of a very masculine culture. There is also the fact that he went to college in the US, played football and volleyball and all the cheerleaders used to call him Hunk Boy.
He was tall and broad and hairy and butch but the real charm lay in his crystal green eyes and thin lips. Of course Wench could not appreciate that properly in the smoky darkness. The length and the breadth was enough to attract him.

My first night out and I score.
I may not be as unattractive as Sandeep says I am.

Wench and Hunk met at his Worli Sea Face apartment and they kissed for hours. Darius had not meant to but Wench was all nerves.
He gathered enough courage to announce his lack of experience.
Darius would not buy it.

"A nineteen year old virgin?" He thought out loud.
Wench felt little.

"OK. If you say so. I'll be nice and slow."

Finally undressed, they rolled around a bit.

Then came the time for the ritualistic blowjob.

Wench knew his theory well but he had grown up watching First World Porn where being Top and Bottom did not mean one guy doing all the dirty work.
Darius had different ideas.

He must have been a full 9 inches with balls to rival a ram. It was too much for Wench's untrained vocal muscles.

Fuck. Sandeep was right. I should have practised on those bananas.

"Wench Boy." Darius held his prickly head lovingly. "Relax. Don't try to take it all in at the same time. Slowwwwww. Yeah."

Wench belched like a true wench as it touched his tonsils.
Spitting the appendage out he said," How about 69?"

"I am top." was all Darius said and before Wench could understand he was behind him squeezing out his mango flavoured lubricant. (He was in India)

A terrified Wench turned back to find Hunk pushing his index finger in.
"Stop. No. I'm not ready for that."
"You want to be remaining virgin. No?"

What's happened to his English.

Wench Boy didn't know it faded in and out.

Hunk Boy could not stand the pathetic look on Wench's face. What if he had started crying, he later thought. He could not have handled that.

He let him be.

"OK. Suck me then."
Wench obeyed and looked at himself in the mirror doing it.
"We watch pornographic movie also.", quipped Darius.

Jeez. He was talking allright till now.

"Don't come in my mouth" The huge cock slapped against his mouth as he dropped it to warn him of his preference.

Hunk Boy came in spurts on Wench's Neck and chest.
What a waste, he thought. He had saved it since yesterday for some rumpy action.

Wench loved the smell of come, especially since it was not his own.
He had experimented a lot with his own. He had smelled it. Eaten it. Saved it in a bottle and as an unpleasant child (who started masturbating at the age of seven, for neighbours of paedophiles mature fast) drowned ants in it.

Sitting on Hunk Boy's rug on his knees he had not realized he could do with an orgasm now.
"Make me come.", he said in his best sensual tone rubbing the semen on his neck.

Darius started towards the bathroom.
"You're a bottom. You don't need to come."
And he went in to shower.
The dumbfounded Wench immediately lost his million dollar erection of whatever 6 inches he had. (He felt small after being choked by Hunk's dong.)

When Darius returned, he found Wench sitting at the foot of the bed. The come had spread practically all over his torso and was about to drip on his clean white sheets.
He thought again of being such a spendthrift with his jiss.

"Go wash."

Wench Boy obeyed.

He came back with a questioning face and gathered all the right words to ask.
He was fated to become Super Twink someday. He did not know that but he knew he must have an orgasm. Even if he had not been given one, he must ask why? Professor Narayanan told him the first day of the lecture. She told the whole class but Wench had noted down possibly everything she had said. She was so charming. She had said, "Question everything. That is what we will do for the next three years. When i say everything. I mean everything. That is what we we do when we study literature."

"I want to come."

Shit.

He had meant to ask a question.

When a dressed Darius did not respond, Wench framed the query nicely.
"Why didn't you make me come?"
"You're a bottom. You don't need to come."
"I don't get it. Why?"
"Wait here." Hunk went out in the living room and brought back a yellow book with a picture of a grey bearded man on the cover. Wench recognized it. It was Osho.
Darius quoted a long boring passage in his thick accent on how sexual energy can be diverted and creatively converted into creative energy that can be used for something more constructive.
"I didn't listen to Osho" He smiled and Wench knew he had just been had.
But Hunk was so cute.

I don't think I can let him go so easily.

Wench did not know he had already landed on the planet of neanderthal Tops.

(to be continued....)