Mr. Jaguar (2 page)

The customer sighed and gave a shallow nod. “I will help your memory. I’m the guy you cornered in a shower stall. You switched on the icy cold water for a good laugh with your teammates,” he said, forcing his lips into a smile.

Any hint of a grin dripped from Mike’s face like sweat. This couldn’t be happening to him. There they were, the school’s resident gay nerd and him, about to pump his gas. This had to be the guy’s dream come true. A prophecy written in the stars. It could have only been worse if Mike were fat by now. He didn’t even remember Mr. Jaguar’s name all that well. Only the nickname he got after an unwanted outing during a slideshow presentation.

“Lovelace.” Like the actress in
Deep Throat
. Mike groaned and took another step back. His life had reached a new low.

“It’s James. And certainly not ‘Lovelace’,” whispered… James, who looked nothing like the thin, shapeless teen with longish hair Mike remembered from school. “But I am happy that I was entertaining enough to be remembered.”

As angry as Mike was with this meeting, he couldn’t help but have his skin throb at the knowledge that this guy was in fact gay. Mike put his hands in the pockets of his low-hanging coveralls and swallowed. James was the first real gay guy Mike had ever known, and he had been trying to hook up with him even when James had been an ugly duckling. None of his attempts ever worked out the way he wanted though. Being in the closet didn’t help either. Like that shower stunt. That was an epic fail. Mike had this fantasy that it would all work out like in a porno. He’d get James wet, have him undress and… stuff would happen. Instead, the whole fucking football team came into the locker room and wrecked the mood.

“Yeah, whatever. You’ll always be Lovelace to me.” Mike summoned a grin. Okay, so maybe he was as poor as dirt, but at least he could still have some satisfaction over this guy. Mr. Look-at-me-I’ve-got-a-Jag.

James put the sunglasses over his eyes and frowned. “I’ll get some coffee. Wash the car,” he said and started walking toward the store.

Mike spread his arms to the sides. “You’ve got to be shitting me!”

“The key’s inside,” said James, showing off his tight ass, or at least that was how it seemed to Mike. Those pants fit James perfectly.

Mike looked back to the Jag. For a split second, he imagined jumping in, showing Vega the finger and driving off never to return. With the added bonus of leaving James without a car. Mike knew he wouldn’t do it though. He wasn’t a criminal, even if it would make his life so much easier.

Mike took a deep breath and stroked the side of the door again. The car was so pretty, no matter whom it belonged to. It actually took Mike a while to get into the driver’s seat, shyly as if he were courting a virgin. The upholstery was soft, cream-colored leather, and the seat was a dream to sit in. He’d never had the chance to actually drive a vehicle so polished, new, and classy. Yes, that was the word. There was no fish tank in the back, no television set, or big speakers, but everything inside was of highest quality. And it smelled of a cologne that very much spiked Mike’s senses.

He carefully drove the car into the garage where he washed the cars. At least there was shade here. Even the short drive was as smooth as spreading soft butter all over toast. Mike scrutinized the car when he got out, and in fact, it wasn’t half as shiny as it had seemed to him at first glance. Like the hot guy who then turns out to be all too familiar.

That was his life. He either met no gay guys, or tempting gay guys who’d never suck him off. Grumbling under his breath, he prepared the necessary supplies and started working the soapy sponge over the beautiful exterior. It was only when he glanced toward the open doors that he noticed the already-familiar silhouette of James. God knew how long he had been standing there and ogling Mike with his gay eyes!

“You don’t have to supervise me. I know what I’m doing.” Mike rinsed the soapy sponge in a bucket of clear water and then dipped it in the soapy water again.

“I know,” said James as he sipped some coffee out of a paper cup. It gave Mike some satisfaction to know that the coffee powder in the store’s vending machine was past its due date. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

Mike actually stopped moving and looked back at James while polishing the wet metal. He could feel his stomach muscles move with a deeper breath. Good thing he was tanned because heat rose to his face at that comment. “I bet you had a crush on me in school, didn’t you?” Mike tempted his luck. “How’s being gay working out for you?” he asked, but rinsed the section he just washed with a hose, as if the encounter didn’t affect him at all.

“You were one of the guys I was jerking off to, yeah.” James slurped his coffee and leaned against the wall. “Being gay is lots of fun. How is being straight working out for
you
?”

Mike frowned, words stuck in his throat. When did Lovelace get all this confidence? Then again, it probably came with the same money that got him the gorgeous Jag and designer sunglasses. Imagining this grown-up James jerking off made Mike stall with his answer even longer as he dropped to one knee with a brush to scrub the wheel. “Good,” he finally choked out. God, he was such a loser. “With these abs, I get pussy all the time.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. They are quite the dream, especially with sweat beading all over you.” James smiled and stepped closer, resting his hand on a wooden chair.

Mike felt a sudden need to pull on the other half of his coveralls, instantly countered by the urge to get naked altogether. “It’s a car wash, not a peep show.” Mike gave him a glare and scrubbed so hard that it got his muscles aching.

James put the cup on the seat and pulled out his wallet. A green note rustled in his hand, and he started playing with it in his fingers. “You could strip for me.”

Mike’s stomach twisted, and he almost dropped the brush to the floor as he stared at the hundred dollar note. Was it beneath him? Probably not. He was in a position where he washed his clothes with Vanessa’s to save up on going to the Laundromat. “More,” he spat in the end and looked around the empty garage and to the wavy air over the asphalt far off on the road.

James snorted. “For a strip? You’re already half naked.”

Mike swallowed and rinsed the wheel with the hose. “I bet you really wanna see my wet-dream cock though,” he said with a lot more confidence than he actually had right now. James’s shoulders had such a nice shape to them. He couldn’t get over how much Lovelace had grown.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re advertising something not worthy of my attention?” teased James. He picked up the cup and kept on drinking.

Mike turned off the water and stepped closer, with his heart going up to his throat. James terrified and excited him at the same time. “Okay, a hundred for a strip, a thousand for a naked car wash?” He knew he was pressing his luck (and humiliating himself in the process), but no one would have to know it ever happened, and Mike could actually save some money for once. That was of course if he didn’t become an alcoholic after this traumatic experience.

James slowly sat down on the chair and crossed his legs. The smile never once left his face. He was enjoying himself like a cat playing with a tormented mouse. “I can give you two hundred for a jerk-off.”

Mike swallowed, painfully aware of every drop falling from the hose to the floor. Sure, he’d want to touch James. He’d do it for free or even pay for it if he had any money, but when James put a price on it, it felt a lot more dirty than the Jag he was tending to. Was this really all he was worth? He looked at the concrete ground and nodded. It wasn’t like he’d hate it. It wasn’t like he was being asked to eat pussy or even blow the guy.

“I’ll close the door,” he muttered breathlessly, shame and arousal mixing in him like a badly made Jägerbomb.

James nodded, relaxing in the chair. “You know, the one reason I was always sorry I didn’t do sports at school was that I was missing out on ogling cocks in the shower.”

Mike pulled down the garage door, painfully aware of the coveralls sliding down his hips. For a moment, they were surrounded by darkness, but when he switched on the light, everything became painfully real. After a quick wash of his hands in the small sink, Mike rubbed his nape and slowly approached James, unsure how to go round the deed with James sitting. “You should have said you wanted to suck off the whole team.”

James drew in a sharp breath, which sounded very prominent in the silent garage. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, right. All the straight players getting off on a
fag
.”

“Maybe there were some gay ones.” Mike shrugged and walked up to James. Without further ado, he bowed down, put his hand on the back of the chair, over James’s shoulder, and reached for his fly with the other. Sink or swim. He hadn’t been with a guy in three years, and he was not letting this handsome birdie out of his grasp.

But it certainly wanted to fly. James gasped and scrambled out of the embrace, stumbling to the wall. The cup fell to the floor, having left a brown trail down the leg of his pants. “What was that?” whispered James, his throat squeezed so tight, it sounded like a wheeze.

Mike frowned and straightened up. “You wanted a handjob. You thought I wouldn’t do it? If this is some fucking joke to you, then it’s not funny.” He clenched his hands into fists.

“No!” It sounded as if James was spitting the word out in distaste. “I wanted
you
to jerk off. Christ!” he uttered breathlessly.

Oh. So Mike wasn’t even good enough to touch Mr. Jaguar, only worth ogling. He chewed on this thought for a while as it left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He took a deep breath and stepped back, feeling like an idiot. “Okay, whatever, I can do that,” he groaned.

James swallowed, but stayed by the wall, crossing his arms on his chest. “Okay.” He looked too hot for his own good.

Mike swallowed, trying to fight feeling like dirt under James’s designer shoes and backed off, sitting his ass on the hood of the Jag. “How does it feel to have your dream come true, Lovelace?”

Even in the dark corner James hid in, there was no mistaking the way his Adam’s apple bobbed at the comment. “I didn’t get anything yet.”

Mike groaned, but he supposed it was time to show off the goods. He pulled the zipper of his uniform down in one quick move. On hot days like this one, he didn’t wear anything underneath, so that was it. His cock was right there, on show in the bright lights, already filling. He looked up to James, imagining how it would be to have those plump lips around it.

Mike was big— they both knew he used to easily push James around— he was hot, and his cock was pretty damn good, and yet, it felt so strange to be undressed under someone’s scrutiny, for their sole enjoyment. He would get his pleasure, but it was obvious his orgasm would not be truly
his
. There was complete silence as he revealed himself, the wet metal warming up under his buttocks. James made no comment, no move, nothing. He was just staring at him like a living camera.

Mike tried to seem casual as he slid his hand down to his dick, slowly coaxing it to life. Was two hundred bucks worth losing his dignity like this? He wasn’t all that sure anymore. But then again, hadn’t he lost all self-respect last week when he had to clean up Vega’s vomit from the floor in the convenience store? Oh God, he shouldn’t be thinking about Vega and vomiting right now. Instead, he focused on James again. On his angular cheekbones, blue eyes, on the veins on his toned arms…

Mike spat into his hand and started pumping his dick with a groan. James exhaled and took one step closer, which was just enough for the light to reach his face. His lips were half open in contrast to the eyelids, which were lowered over the eyes, giving James a dazed look.

Mike took a deep breath, quickening his strokes. He supposed it was all the power he had left over James. Not much in comparison to a Jag and a full wallet. He looked down to his own cockhead with a groan before darting his gaze back up at James. Mike’s stomach muscles danced with every deep breath and grunt. His body tingled with intermingling sensations of shame, powerlessness, and excitement. This was a real gay guy watching him, being excited, coming closer… what?

James was slowly stepping up to Mike, his hands firmly clasped at the back of his neck, but with the front of his pants tenting, there was no doubt about what James thought of the ordeal.

“It’s an extra five hundred if you wanna suck me off,” Mike rasped, hoping James would actually take him up on the offer. His gaze wandered down to the front of James’s pants again, and he sped up the jerk-off. But James stepped back, all the way into the semi-darkness and watched Mike’s illuminated body in complete and utter silence.

Mike was losing momentum, too ashamed of what he’d offered, and even more ashamed that it got rejected. Rich fuck. He looked down to his dick and started pumping it with a new ferociousness, trying to forget James was there. He liked watching his own cock anyway. The way the cockhead kept popping out of his fist. Mike imagined doing it to another guy, and the visuals always helped. It didn’t take long for him to come with a grunt, spurting all over the concrete and panting for air. He rubbed the hood of the Jag with satisfaction, imagining it belonged to him.

Slowly, he looked up, to the ceiling with tubes and cables dangling around because there was no one who bothered with bringing order, or even doing some dusting. There was still nothing coming from James’s safe corner.

Mike let himself catch some air before standing back up. He stretched, trying to seem all chilled and casual. He looked up at James and zipped up his coveralls. “Happy?”

“Yeah, it was quite entertaining,” said James, stretching out his hand, with two bank notes that Mike had earned with ten minutes of work.

He had to walk up to James to pull them out of his hand, which was the pinnacle of this experience. “Did you pull up here just for this?” he groaned and pushed the money into his pocket.

“No, I still want my car washed,” said James, putting his hands into his pockets, on both sides of the bulge in his pants. He smelled of arousal, and all of a sudden, gaydar-less Mike could tell.