9:15 AM. All packed up, I was ready to head down to the car rental agency when my cell went off. I didn’t recognize the number but could see it was from the local area code. I flipped it open.
“Case,” I said. “Talk to me.”
“Ah, Case,” replied Bobby Dare. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”
I reminded myself to be civil. I also reminded myself to survey my surroundings to see if I was being watched.
“No, Bobby, you hit me before my day has gotten underway,” I said, looking all around for a sign of anything suspicious. “What’s up?”
“I feel bad that you didn’t appreciate the little gift I sent you last night.”
“Well, the thought was there,” I said. “I trust you got a gift receipt to exchange it for something my size? You know, natural redhead, double-D or larger?”
A humorless laugh came through.
“I’d actually like to discuss that with you, Case. Could we meet in my office in, say, 30 minutes?”
“You know, Bobby, it’s such a nice day,” I replied, looking up to the overcast skies, “I think I’d prefer something outdoors and public.”
“Okay, Case. There’s a little deli called Tessa’s about a mile south of the Factory. I’ll request an outdoor table and request we be allowed some privacy. Will that work for you?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “That’d be cool.”
“Thirty minutes,” he said and hung up.
I figured I could put off getting the rental car for a while. Showing up at an appointment with a new ride that was supposed to keep me anonymous would defeat the entire purpose. No, Old Blue would get a temporary reprieve while I had a little face-to-face with Bobby Dare.
True to his word, Bobby Dare was waiting in full view at the little bistro table, strategically parked far away from the rest of the outside tables in anticipation of the arrival of any patrons who might be in a position to listen in on our conversation. We were the only ones out here at the moment, but he gave me a little wave and of acknowledgement and then another to invite me over. I walked over and took a seat where a cup of coffee awaited me.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Case,” he said brightly.
“Thank you for agreeing to have our little meeting in a public place, Bobby.”
He smiled coyly.
“Are you still afraid I’ll try and seduce you? Or, that you might actually enjoy it if you give in?”
I chuckled. “I guess we’ll never know.”
Dare looked down into his coffee cup, a kind of apologetic expression on his face.
“You know, Case,” he said, “I’ve really been approaching this all wrong.”
“If by wrong you mean you haven’t accepted the fact that I won’t do gay porn, then yes, you’ve been approaching things wrong.”
“Now, please, you do need to look at things from my perspective both as a businessman in a cutthroat business, and as a gay man who knows his shit.”
“Shit and I remain casual acquaintances,” I replied. “I don’t care to know my shit on a first name basis, much less someone else’s.”
Dare actually laughed.
“Well, we absolutely don’t do scat at the Fantasy Factory,” he said. “But we do plenty of anal in both gay and hetero stuff. Do you have any problem with anal sex?”
“It isn’t my favorite to give, but I’ve done it. Zero on the receiving end, and it’s gonna stay that way, thank you.”
“That’s fine, that’s fine,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I mean, have you ever done anal professionally?”
I laughed, but played along.
“You should know the answer to that since I’ve only been a ‘professional’ since the Factory hired me. But, in real life, yeah, I have done it with a willing woman when the mood and need struck. You know, just because the Tunnel of Love is down for maintenance doesn’t necessarily mean that the log ride has to be closed.”
“And I’m sure you enjoyed it?” he asked hopefully.
“And I’m sure you’re going somewhere with this?”
“Look, I’m good at what I do, Case,” he said. “I know my customer base, and I know what sells. I pay close attention to the actors that get the most attention; generate the most buzz.”
“The ones who make you the most money.”
“Not just me, but the Factory. I have just as much interest in the straight side of the business being successful as I do the boys under my watch.”
I was sure Dare was talking about Crystal Fortune in particular when he referenced the straight side. “I still can’t quite see where this is leading, Bobby.”
Dare paused, his lips pursed as if he were looking for the right words.
“Case, the most frustrating thing for me is that you can’t see things from my perspective. I’ll accept that you won’t go gay for pay, even though you’d bring a… an indefinable quality that is missing in our gay porn.”
It sounded as if Dare was trying to flatter me into his den of iniquity. He was certainly laying it on thick enough.
“Thank you, but no thank you, Bobby.”
“I’m being honest about your potential appeal, Case,” he said. “There’s a big call for daddy-son porn. Your rugged looks and skinny feminine boys…”
A bright smile. “He’s a cutie, isn’t he?”
“Yup, but nope.”
Then with a sly wink: “How about double the salary Saul’s paying?”
I laughed and shook my head.
“Top only,” he added. “You wouldn’t have to suck any dicks or take it up the ass.”
“Nice, tight little boy butts on twinks who could suck-start a Harley?”
“ ’Fraid not.”
“Well, you can’t fault me for trying.” He chuckled. “It’s tits or nothing, huh?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Big tits, right?”
“Like Crystal Fortune’s?” he said in an annoyed tone.
“My dream girl,” I confirmed.
Dare reached under the table and produced a manila folder, opening it as he set it down. He pulled out a photo and gently tossed it to me.
“How about those tits?” he asked.
It was an 8x10 glossy close-up of a large pair of breasts. Maybe a size G or H. Yeah, I kind of pay attention to those types of numbers.
“Big enough for you? Your big dick would be right at home between those, wouldn’t it?”
I had to wonder why the abrupt change from pushing his gay agenda to fucking boobs. Maybe he was trying to placate my desire to work with Crystal Fortune by offering what he thought might be a suitable replacement. In the long run tits are tits, but these weren’t quite cutting it for me.
“They’re fake,” I said. “Implants.”
“Really?” he replied, feigning surprise. “How can you tell?”
“Dude, I’m a tit man. A tit connoisseur. I’ve checked out plenty of ’em and I do know my way around ’em. Literally.”
I pointed out the defined ridge of the implant at the top of the breasts; their unnatural roundness with no hint of natural sag. And the nipples were unusually small and uneven.
Dare looked astonished. “I’ve never noticed that,” he said.
“It might have a lot to do with your sexual focus on men and not women.”
He actually facepalmed himself.
“Does that mean that you wouldn’t do those?”
I shrugged. “Eh, depends on the rest of the package.”
Dare slid another photo my way. A waist-up image of the owner of the fake tits with a large cock stuffed in her mouth. In this image I could see that the shoulders were a little too wide, the face too square, and the makeup too heavy. I shook my head.
“Rest of the package?” I asked.
Out came a full-body pic, a naked shot from behind.
“After playing with her tits, you think you might want to fuck her little ass?” he asked.
I sighed. “It’s a dude.”
He seemed stunned. “How…?”
“Butt’s too flat, hips aren’t wide in relation to the body, and then there’s the Adam’s apple,” I said, tapping on the throat in the waist-up image. I laughed. “All physical male traits. This guy’s a pre-op transsexual, at best. A She-male.”
“I’m trying to meet you halfway here, Case. I’m trying to give you tits and ass. Just because there’s no cunt between her legs –”
“It’s a necessary part of the package for me,” I replied. “Here you’re trying to give me a guy’s nuts.”
“C’mon, it’s like candy,” Dare grinned. “You know, sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t.”
That was actually funny. “Sorry, but no go.”
“Your loss,” he sighed, scooping up the photos and stuffing them back into the folder. He got up from the table. “Had you agreed to it I might have given you serious consideration to work with your dream girl.”
Dare stomped off, leaving me almost regretting my unyielding macho pride.