Justin Case: Finding Fortune

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Chapter 20

The knocking on my hotel room door was light, as if the person was hesitant to make their presence known, or like that of a child nervously tapping at the door to get my attention. That was a silly notion since it was 10:15 on a Sunday night, and it wasn’t Girl Scout cookie season.

I also wasn’t expecting any company.

I snagged my gun and returned to the door, taking a peek through the little spyhole. I could make out a single male, height moderate and slight of build. For as much of the area on the other side of my door that I could make out there didn’t appear to be anyone else waiting in the wings. I opened the door but left the safety chain in place.

“Mr. Hardin?” a shaky voice asked from the other side.

Okay, that was a little odd to hear. As usual, I booked the room under my real name while paying with my credit card deliberately tied to a shill company to prevent tracking me to my apartment or office. If someone was just out looking for me they’d surely have checked with the front desk, but wouldn’t find ‘Case Hardin.’ Yet this was someone who knew me by my stage name. I silently cursed myself for not paying better attention in my travels to make sure no-one was following me. Apparently, someone had been.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Who’s asking?”

“Marco.”

“Polo,” I replied.

“No, really, Mr. Hardin,” he said, almost pleading. “I work for the Fantasy Factory.”

Silent curse number two. I’d for sure been located by the very people I didn’t want following me at all.

“I was the person who helped you with your costume on Thursday,” he added.

There was only one person who assisted me that day. The cute-looking little voyeuristic crotch rubber. He looked harmless enough then; I figured he wouldn’t pose too much of a threat now. But my gun wasn’t leaving my hand until I confirmed my visitor was alone.

“Just a sec,” I said as I closed the door enough to undo the chain, holding my gun against the back of my thigh to both hide it and keep it at the ready. I opened the door and stepped back. “Come on in.”

Marco stepped into the room and immediately closed the door behind him. Good sign. I reached behind me with my gun hand and tucked the gun into the waist of my pants, the cool metal poking against the small of my back. I probably should have grabbed a t-shirt to hide the weapon, but I didn’t plan to be turning my back to anyone, even the boyishly handsome Marco. Knowing his apparent sexual proclivities, that was probably for the best.

“To what do I owe this visit, Marco?”

“I was sent here to take care of you,” he said simply, his gaze boring a hole in my naked chest.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I replied. “I don’t need someone to tuck me in and give me a bottle.”

Marco smiled slyly.

“I’d be happy to tuck you in,” he said, “and I’d give you something a lot more tasty to suck on than an old bottle.”

The young man went back to rubbing his crotch through his pants.

“I’m sure you would,” I replied with a gentle roll of my eyes. “But no go, bro.”

“You sure you don’t want just a little taste?” he asked with a come-on look. “Or are you worried that it’ll be like a sexual potato chip and you won’t be able to stop at just one?”

“No, and no,” I replied, chortling.

He sighed. “My next salvo was to warn you not to make me bring out the big guns to sway you, but you’re the one with the big gun.”

I hadn’t revealed my pistol to him, so I was pretty sure what gun Marco was referring to, especially when he punctuated his remark by staring straight at my crotch.

I didn’t bother moving or replying. Marco was the one making the moves and for the moment I was content to sidestep them, hoping he would come around on his own and accept that I wasn’t going to give in. Finally he lifted his gaze from my package. Looking around, he asked, “Can I use the bathroom?”

“Sure. It’s paid for.”

Marco walked catlike toward the bathroom and shut the door, leaving me to wonder who set up this strange meeting that was only getting stranger by the minute. And another minute later, it got stranger still. Marco walked out of the bathroom completely naked and sporting a small but firm erection.

“Marco,” I sighed.

“How can you refuse something this tasty?” he asked.

“Sorry, Marco,” I said with a shake of my head. “You’re a handsome young man, but you just don’t do it for me.”

“But it would be a crime to let a hard-on like this go unsatisfied, Mr. Hardin.”

“Then I’ll just be a criminal,” I replied. “I’m willing to go to jail in the name of tits.”

“Yeah, I know how much you like tits,” he said, disappointment on his face.

Big tits,” I emphasized, spreading my arms wide. “Okay, maybe not that big, but I think you get the gist.”

“You know,” he said with a smirk, “I’ve been thinking about getting some breast implants, myself.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, on my back. Maybe they’d get a few more straight guys incentive to give in.”

I laughed. “You have a good sense of humor, Marco. Hang onto that.”

“You have to remember, I’ve seen you naked,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “I know what I’d like to hang onto.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I sighed. “Look, you tell Colleen I appreciate her sending you – ”

“Oh, Colleen didn’t send me,” interrupted Marco. “Mr. Dare told me to come here and take care of you.”

“Bobby Dare himself sent you to here to shave me?” I asked, confused.

“Oh, no... Mr. Dare sent me to take care of you,” Marco replied with a casual wave of his hand and a blatant lick of his lips. “And if we managed to get your manly garden all trimmed up while I was at it, then all the better.”

I was getting pissed, but not at the half-naked young man.

“Bobby Dare sent you here to have sex with me,” I said in confirmation.

“Well, yes,” replied Marco, spreading his hands proudly to emphasize his smooth physique. “He thought that maybe if you got a taste of man-to-man sex with one of the best bottoms in the business that you might decide to come around to his side of the industry and contract with him.”

I was no longer feeling flattered; I was feeling a bit violated. A sudden wave of sympathy for what women must endure from a man’s unwanted advances washed over me. But, it still wasn’t the young porn star’s fault. He was just a pawn here. Yeah, a pawn that wanted my dick up his ass, but a pawn nonetheless.

“Marco,” I said softly, and I hoped kindly, “if it were my desire to venture to the other side, you would be my first choice to lead me over.”

That got a bright smile from the young man. “So you mean there’s a chance in the future?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” I replied. “I said ‘if,’ and I don’t spend my life focused on the ‘ifs’ of my past or my future. My future is dictated by the here and now. And here and now I have no intention of going gay.”

Marco sighed. “So, I’ll have to watch your videos and fantasize.”

“Yeah, but first you’ll have to get dressed and say goodnight.”

I tried not to laugh as young Marco took his sweet time getting dressed, clearly making a show of it. Kind of a strip tease in reverse. Ten minutes later he was finally decent enough to go out into public and gave me one more doe-eyed glance before saying good-night and stepping out of my room.

Once the door latch clicked I snagged the motel phone and punched in the number to Bobby Dare’s line at the Fantasy Factory. There wasn’t any way that he would be in his office this time of night, but I had to make the call or stew over my anger until I chanced upon his skinny ass some time down the road.

Ring. Ring. Click.

You have reached the desk of Bobby Dare, vice-president of the Fantasy Factory. I’m not in so leave a message.”

I was about to go off on him, to rip him up one side and down the other for yet another of his asinine attempts at dragging me into the gay side of the profession. I took a deep breath…

“Nice try, Bobby,” I said calmly before setting the phone handset gently in its cradle. I let my pent-up anger go right along with the deep breath.

It would be a bad idea to go off on Dare just because I didn’t personally care for what he was offering. Doing so would likely get my ass tossed out of the Fantasy Factory. With the Factory being my ticket to Fortune, I needed to stay in their good graces. Well, at least in Saul Gordon’s good graces with Dare a close second.

I had joked to myself about not turning my back to young Marco. Now I needed to really watch my back. It clearly had been painted with a target and Bobby Dare was taking aim.

I pulled my gun from my waist and set it on the nightstand. It was only 8:35 PM but I was immediately going to bed and I wanted it close. Now I had to get up earlier than I had initially planned; I had to find new digs. And since I’m pretty sure my Crown Vic is what made me so easy to follow, Mrs. Titus would now be paying for a rental car on my list of expenses.

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