Buy The Silent Hustler
by Sean Meriwether
[Lethe Press, 10.2009]

Originally published in OutsiderInk.com [09.1999]

Sunday Night, Going Nowhere

Michael took a deep swig from the bottle and pulled Ryan to him. He pressed their mouths together, forced Ryan’s lips apart with his tongue and spilled warm vodka into his mouth. Michael kissed him deeply, then backed away and wiped his mouth. “We’re brothers,” Michael said. “I love you, man. You’re the only one who gets it.” He opened the car door and ran to the back of the building. He looked back at the car and shouted, “Come on, fuck face. Let’s do this!”

Ryan shifted his hard-on, got out of the car and ran through the downpour to join Michael. “Right here,” Michael shouted over the thunderous rain, drawing an invisible X across the double doors. “The janitor’s room is back here where they keep all the chemicals. We get it started here and this sucker will blow sky high!”

Michael ripped at his shirt, but shook his head. “It’s wet.” He looked around, back at the car, then at his friend. “Come here.” He pulled Ryan to him, took a sip from the bottle then poured a stream into Ryan’s upturned mouth; it splashed and ran down the sides of his face. Michael unbuttoned Ryan’s jeans and yanked them down, pointing at his underwear. “Give me those. I need a fuse.”

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