Aspiring novelist Ennis Del Mar looked away from the monitor, letting his gaze focus on the far wall of his apartment. He was oblivious to the deep bass throbbing from the sound system of the club on the ground floor. It entered the soles of his bare feet as a subtle vibration, and was actually soothing. Though he was tired and his eyes burned from staring too long at the screen, he didn't like to quit until he had at least of couple of paragraphs that didn't belong in a cat box. He smiled at the image of his words as small shiny turds, like tar against the chalky white of the kitty litter. Hard on the heels of this prosaic vision came a fleeting glimpse of something he'd been trying to capture for what seemed like most of his life. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised to recreate his thoughts in a way that would make sense to anyone besides him that might read the text.

A thump that sounded like someone dropping a large bag of potatoes brought Ennis's head up again. The thought that the noise sounded more like a body hitting the floor sprang to his writer's mind and a brief but vivid scenario spooled out in his imagination. He was a zealous observer of others, recording in mental snapshots and short films, the expressions, actions, and various other minutiae of the daily lives of strangers, trying to understand what made them who they were. He never approached any of his subjects on the trains, the streets, or in the cheap little restaurants he frequented. In fact, he hardly talked at all, preferring to let his writing speak for him. He'd arrived in the city three months ago with thirty dollars in his pocket, a year and half away from his high school graduation, and a few months shy of twenty. At present he was writing porn-to-order to keep a roof over his head, but the day would come when he finished his novel, and his true voice would be heard.

The thump had replicated, had become thumping, soft and rhythmic. Ennis listened without really hearing it, assembling his thoughts in succinct phrases, pruning away the extraneous metaphors, descriptive passages and adverbs, until a groan snapped him out of the zone again. What if one of his neighbors, whose names he didn't know, was lying in the hall suffering a heart attack. The mental image of a hand stretched out in supplication toward the door behind which he sat made Ennis turn and stare at the knob, expecting it to move at any second. Jesus, he berated silently; get hold of yourself, Del Mar. There's no serial killer in the hall, no medical emergency, no zombie looking to snack on your gray matter. It's just the worthless building superintendent doing something arcane and utterly useless to the lighting, the heating, or the plumbing, any one of which could go out without notice. But you get what you pay for; this was all Ennis could afford, and it wasn't like he was nostalgic for the life he'd left behind.

Since his rent was paid up, he went to the door and looked down the hall, expecting Joe Aguirre, iron gray hair and filthy mechanic's coveralls, a mallet clutched in a meaty fist, a scowl and a puff of cigarillo smoke that smelled like burning diapers. But of course it wasn't Aguirre, not at three in the morning. It was a complete stranger, a pair of them, in fact, engaged in something Ennis had very recently described as a "knee trembler". The benefactor was on his knees, his back to the wall, his skull striking the sheetrock each time the man standing in front of him thrust. The lucky receiver's palms were braced flat against the wall, and he had to look over his arm to see Ennis. Ennis dragged his gaze from the spit-shiny cock and met the eyes of its wielder.

"Howdy, friend," the stranger drawled, not missing a beat. "Mind givin' us some privacy."

Ennis's usual reaction would have been to shut his door and mind his own business, the sheer nerve of this guy provoked him to reply. "This is a public area."

"Right now it's a pubic area."

The kneeling man chuckled and nearly choked. He got to his feet, wiping his mouth and eyeing Ennis in a less than friendly manner. "Come on, Jack," he said. "Let's go out to my van like I wanted to do in the first place."

"Only if you swear it's cleaned up," Jack said, tucking his hard-on away with some difficulty. "Goddamn upholstery smells like cat piss."

"I guess you're too good to ride in it then."

"Unless somethin's changed drastically in the last five minutes."

"Look, I understand where the cocky attitude comes from, but I've about had enough of it. You're a stone fox, but you're just too high maintenance for me."

"Are you waitin' for violin music?"

"Are you comin' with me?"

"Not in any sense of the word, Jimbo. When we hooked up, you represented yourself as someone on the way up, but truth is, you're all mouth."

"Didn't hear you complainin' about it just now."

"You do have your charms, but I have to believe that somewhere out there is a man that can suck a can a peaches through a garden hose and won't drive me crazy inside a three weeks."

"Are we quits?"

"Looks like it."

"Find your own ride home then," Jimbo said as he walked toward the stairs.

Jack rolled his eyes at Ennis, still frozen in the doorway. "Yeah, like that'll be a problem," he called over the hollow sound of Jimbo's departing footsteps. "Hey, bud, mind if I use your phone?"

"My phone?" Ennis repeated.

"You have a phone, don't you?"

"Not since Tuesday."

"Great, another loser," Jack muttered.

"I'm a loser just 'cause I missed payin' a phone bill? Fuck you."

Jack looked the irritated tenant in the eyes and flashed his second-best grin. "Easy, friend. I take it back. I don't know you; I was just pissed at Jimbo. Fuckin' waste a protoplasm. He ain't nuthin' but a life support system for a dick."

"Do people really talk like that?" Ennis wondered out loud.

"Somethin' wrong with the way I talk?"

"It's… colorful, I guess."

While Jack tried to decide if Ennis's words were a compliment, or something he should take offense at, Ennis was filing away the life support system remark for future use. Mangravy Press had declined to accept any more of his smut, his so-called smut in the words of Roy, his so-called editor, until it was more believable. Believable, in this case, was defined as more down and dirty action and characters with less perfect speech patterns. Ennis didn't intend to make a career out of pornography, but it paid the bills, or would, if he was better at it. The main problem was his lack of experience. He knew, in theory, how everything worked, and he was damned good at stringing words together, but his work had no real depth, for lack of a better word. Maybe after he'd been in the city longer than three months, he'd start to acquire the slang and the rhythm of a language whose beat was much quicker than speech in the country. Maybe before too long, he'd sound like this dude, so cool that he didn't bat an eye when caught getting head in the hallway.

"Colorful," Jack said. "I like that. You got any weed?"

"Uh, no, not right now," Ennis said. He had never seen real marijuana, much less smoked it, but there was no reason this guy needed to know that.

"Shit. Well, I guess I'll go back down to the club and find a ride."

"I got whiskey," Ennis blurted out, and then wished he could call the words back. Why was he inviting Mr. Flashy in for a drink? He had work to do, and this guy had user written all over him. However, in the back of Ennis's mind was the thought that he could learn a lot of useful things if he watched and listened for a while. He didn't like the idea of strangers in his personal space, but it was only for a little while. "You want a drink or not?" he added.

"Whiskey, huh? Probably one step up from paint thinner, right?"

"Pretty much. I mix it with milk, or half and half when I'm feelin' rich."

Jack made a face. "You got an ulcer, or is the whiskey really that cheap?"

"Both," Ennis said, and Jack grinned at him again.

"Is that how you swing? Both ways?"

"You don't even know my name yet; why would I tell you that?"

"You're a virgin," Jack said with authority. "Hot damn. Let's have that drink."

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I was kind of hoping it'd taste like a white Russian," Jack said. "But it's just disgusting."

"You get used to it." Ennis turned his glass, smearing the ring of moisture on the Formica.

"That's what my boyfriend told me after I swallowed my first load of jizz."

Ennis filed that away too. "You always say stuff like that to folks you hardly know?"

"I say shit like that to anybody I feel like sayin' it to, because I don't give a fuck. That's my motto."

"Not much of a motto, if you ask me?"

"And you're a very honest guy. You don't get out much, do you?"

"I've got everything I need right here."

Jack looked around at the one-room apartment: single mattress on the floor in the far corner, makeshift desk with computer, the hotplate, toaster oven and microwave on the counter by the sink and miniature refrigerator, toilet and shower stall presumably behind the unpainted plywood partition. "At least it's clean," he said. "So what do you do? Just sleep and sit in front of the computer?"

"Somethin' wrong with that?"

"You always so touchy? Jeez. I'm just askin' a few questions."

"I'm not all that interesting. How old are you?"

"Almost twenty. What else you want to know?"

"What a you do for work?"

"I'm a courier."

"Courier?" Ennis knew the word, but associated it with spy movies.

"You know, I take packages and shit from one place to another on my bike."

Ennis nodded. He'd seen the young men on their spidery bicycles weaving through pedestrians and traffic at suicidal rates of speed. Picturing Jack in a tank top and a pair of those skin tight shorts made Ennis's face feel warm and he hoped to God he wasn't blushing. "That pay pretty good?"

"Who the hell cares? You conductin' some kind a interview, or somethin'?"

"Not exactly," Ennis replied, reluctant to explain. As soon as someone found out you were writing a book, they expected you to produce one on the spot and he didn't enjoy answering the kinds of questions the curious ones always asked. "You said you didn't give a fuck anyway, right?"

Jack settled in his chair, hooking an elbow over the back, regarding Ennis speculatively. "I came in here 'cause I was horny and I thought you were hot. I still think you're hot, looks-wise anyway, but I'm startin' to think you're a little hinky."

"What's that mean?"

"You know, kind a weird, out a place, somethin' you get a bad vibe about. Oh… that doesn't sound too nice, does it?"

"They're not fightin' words, if that's what you're worried about."

Jack straightened up. "I ain't worried," he said.

"Okay."

"Whatever."

Uncharacteristically, Ennis broke the tense silence. "I didn't lure you in here to kill you and store you in my fridge."

Jack glanced at the kitchen area, at the tiny refrigerator. "I'd never fit in there," he conceded. "So maybe you're not an inbred cannibal with a banjo on your knee, but how do I know you're not some other kind a freak?"

"Guess you don't, but I don't know that about you either."

"Truce?" Jack held out his hand.

After a slight hesitation, Ennis shook Jack's hand, and quickly drew his back across the card table. "Can I ask you some more questions?"

Jack flashed his grin again. "Sometimes I work as a dog-walker," he offered. "It don't pay much, but I get to hang out in the park, and some of those rich ladies can be real generous with the tips if you're willing to go the extra mile, if you know what I mean," Jack winked.

"You have sex with 'em?"

"Maybe not the whole enchilada, but I've always been fond a tuna tacos."

Ennis rightly guessed this was slang for female genitalia. "So you go both ways."

"I'm an equal opportunity fuck," Jack said. "This face seats four."

"You mind if I write some of this down?" Ennis was starting to worry that he wouldn't remember everything and he already had a hazy storyline in mind for a character greatly resembling Jack Twist. He had an idea that Roy down at Mangravy was going to love it.

"Why?"

Ennis sighed. "I write," he said.

"Yeah? Cool. What kind of shit do you write?"

"Smut, mostly."

"No way. Really? Man, that's wiggy. I'd a never pegged you as the type."

"Me neither, but I need the money."

"So, if you use my ideas, do I get royalties, or somethin'?"

"Or I could just go downstairs and listen to some of the other hustlers."

"I ain't a hustler. I do the hustle, sure, but I ain't no hustler."

"Maybe we got a diff'rent understandin' a that word."

"Were you callin' me a man-whore?"

"Hell no."

"Okay then, but that's what it means 'round here. Maybe you ought a put that in your book."

"I expect I will."

"You a country boy, Ennis?"

"Yep. You?"

"Once upon a time. My daddy died shortly after I made my first appearance, and mom moved back to the city to stay with my uncle. She still works in the laundry across the street from Uncle Harold's house. What about your parents."

"My dad liked his liquor and one night he run off the road and killed himself and my mama. I got a brother and a sister, but we got split up at the orphanage. Deedee got taken by a family right away, but me and K.E. went through a bunch a foster homes. He didn't ever stay in one place for long, and when he was old enough, he got himself declared an emancipated minor. He tried to help me out, but he could barely take care a himself. My last foster home was on a sheep ranch. All I was to them was free labor, but I stuck it out, mostly because of this one English teacher. Got my high school diploma and decided I was gonna be a writer come hell or high water."

"Day-um!" Jack bugged his eyes comically. "That was quite a speech."

"Your turn then. I'm out a words."

"Sure thing. Seriously though, that was a tough story, friend, and I've heard some sad ones. You want me to tell you one? Something really juicy that'll make your dick say howdy?"

Ennis cleared his throat. "That would be a big help, and if I do make some money from the story I write, I promise you'll get some of it."

Jack's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "I was kiddin', but you're a real stand up guy, Del Mar. I don't meet people like you every day."

"Hang on; before you start tellin' your story, let me get to the keyboard. You don't mind if I take notes, do you?"

Jack smiled at the other young man's manners as Ennis walked over to the computer. "No, I don't mind. I got nowhere to be right now, and this whiskey ain't all that bad. Now what you want a hear about? Boys? Or girls?"

"Don't matter," Ennis said, opening a new document and saving it as Twist Notes.

"You want me to pick? No problem. I already thought of one. I was ridin' the train the other day, and it was packed. For some reason, I didn't notice the time, and I was right in the middle of the morning rush. People were jammed into the cars like sardines. I'm not shitting you. I almost didn't get in. There was barely room to breathe. The person behind me was pushed right up against me when the doors closed, and I was pressed against the glass, not complaining yet, because he was this really good-looking three-piece suit type. Once the train started moving, I was able to ease back, but the corner of the guy's briefcase was still digging into my thigh. I started to look over my shoulder and ask him to back the fuck up when I realized it wasn't a briefcase. The dude had a hard-on and the motion of the train was rubbing it up and down my ass cheek. I started to get mad, but then I started to get hard. I pushed my ass back against him and shifted a little so his dick was between my cheeks. He pretended to lose his balance, leaning on me again, squishing me against the window. My dick was getting harder by the second, and I took a quick look at the people on both sides, but they were minding their own business. The suit behind me slipped his hands around my waist under cover of his overcoat. I had to bite my cheek to stay quiet when he grabbed my cock right through my pants. He had big hands and he squeezed me hard. Swear to God, I nearly came; my heart was beating so fast and I was about to hyperventilate. I couldn't believe we were doing this in the middle of a rush hour crowd, but I was so excited that there was no way I was going to stop. Neither was Mr. Businessman. He was dry-humping my ass like a German shepherd on the mailman's leg and giving me a first-class hand job considering the limitations of our situation."

Ennis stopped typing and glanced over when Jack stopped talking. "What happened next?"

"Gettin' into it, huh?"

"That's not the end of the story, is it?" Ennis refused to be baited.

"Nope. This story has a happy ending," Jack smirked. "You do know what that means, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I know that one." Ennis shifted in his chair. "Go on."

"Sure thing," Jack said, rising silently when Ennis went back to staring at his screen. "I was getting so damned hot, thinking about all the people around us with no idea what was going on. Or maybe some of them did know, and that thought got me even hotter. The stud behind me was breathing on my neck and pushing really strong against me. His dick felt huge and as hard as a steel rail, or something else really hard, and I could feel the heat of it through my pants. I'm talkin' John Holmes, you know?"

"John Holmes?"

"You're shittin' me. All guys know who John Holmes is. He's got the biggest dick you ever saw. Starred in about a million fuck films."

"I get the picture. What happened on the train?"

"Just what you'd expect to happen if you rub a hard dick long enough." Jack stopped behind Ennis's chair. "The guy leaned way in and bit my earlobe and I came in my pants. It felt sooooo good; I nearly slid down the glass like a melted marshmallow. The suit made this noise, kind a like a cough and a grunt mixed together and pressed me really, really hard against the door for a couple of seconds. I felt him come, felt the warm wetness spread through fabric and I felt his hot breath." Jack leaned over and blew in Ennis's ear.

Ennis jumped. "I don't like practical jokes," he said.

"I ain't jokin'," Jack answered as his hands settled lightly on Ennis's shoulders. "Talkin' about sex gets me in the mood."

"I don't like strangers touching me."

"Come on. How can you say I'm a stranger after what we've shared tonight?"

Ennis bit at his lower lip, his fingers frozen over the keyboard, as Jack kissed the side of his neck. "I don't jump into bed with people I don't hardly know."

"Did I say anything about bed? What's wrong with makin' out for a good long time before we jerk off on each other?"

Ennis moved restlessly as Jack nuzzled his ear. "What makes you think I want a make out with you?"

"My God given instincts, which have never failed me. Admit it; you want me."

"The only thing I'll admit is that you're conceited, and probably a liar."

"Now why would you say a thing like that?"

"You made up that story about the train, didn't you?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out. Want to go catch a train?"

"No."

"Prude."

"I'm just not an exhibitionist."

"Say what?"

"Tell me another story, a believable one."

"No. You hurt my feelings," Jack said, crossing to the table and taking a drink from the bottle. "If you want to hear another story, you'll have to do something nice for me."

"Forget it."

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask for."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess it'll be somethin' nasty."

"Nasty?" Jack arched an eyebrow.

"Sexual in nature, then. That suit you better?"

"Whatever. I just want a kiss; is that too much too ask?"

"It could be."

Jack put the bottle down and came back to stand in front of Ennis. He held out his hand, palm up, as if to prove he meant no harm. Ennis stood and faced him.

"You ever kiss a guy, Ennis?"

Ennis dropped his eyes, shook his head, looked back up at Jack. "Never had the nerve."

"You ain't in the country now, Ennis Del Mar, and if you want a know what it's like to kiss a man, I'm willin' to make the sacrifice and be your first."

"Mighty big a you, but don't do me any favors."

"Going once, going twice…"

Ennis sighed. "Go ahead and laugh, but I want my first time to be special."

"You been with a girl, right?"

"Yeah, I been with a girl, a couple, in fact."

"And?"

"It was nice, but the earth didn't move."

"But you are attracted to guys, right?"

"Apparently."

"You're too much for me," Jack said, holding up his hands. "Forget I tainted you, okay?"

Ennis smiled. "I don't feel tainted," he said.

"Well now, will you look at that? I wasn't sure you knew how to smile."

"I was beginnin' to think I'd forgot how."

"So I'm not completely useless then?"

"Never said you were. You helped me a lot. Gave me a lot a ideas."

"Just not the ideas I wanted to give you."

"You always try this hard?"

"Never had to before. It's an interestin' change from bein' chased by horn dogs of all kinds. Might be fun to chase someone for a while."

Both young men looked up at the sound of loud steps in the hall. "Jack!" someone bellowed.

"Sounds like your friend Jimbo is back," Ennis said.

"No shit. I better go before he starts pounding on doors, wakin' people up."

"So… you're not quits with him?"

"All my crap is at the place we share," Jack said. "I got a sleep someplace tonight."

Ennis's eyes met Jack's and the moment balanced on a point that couldn't be measured by any instrument yet invented; it hung there, poised between one heartbeat and the next, and then it passed into history. Ennis didn't offer Jack a bed and Jack didn't ask. Instead, Jack went to the door and yelled at Jimbo to stop acting like a crazy man. He turned to say good-bye to Ennis Del Mar, but the other man was already back at his computer.

"So long," Jack said, and stepped through the door. He was closing it when Ennis spoke.

"You go to the club downstairs a lot?"

"On occasion."

"You could stop by again if you wanted."

"And tell you more stories?"

"I could use all the help I can get."

"Part time Muse, huh? Guess I could give it a try."

"Good."

Jack opened his mouth to say something else, but Ennis was typing, already engrossed in what he was writing. Ignoring Jimbo for a moment longer, Jack let himself dwell on the sight of Ennis Del Mar, the dark blonde curls lit by the cool light from the screen, the tender line of his neck and his broad shoulders, big hands dancing almost delicately over the keys, absorbed in a world that belonged to him alone. A fierce longing to know more about this odd boy seized Jack with a power that surprised and dismayed him. This was no little thing that was starting between them; he'd bet his life on it. He just wasn't sure it was what he needed right now. Things were complicated, and getting involved with someone like Ennis was probably not a good idea. Jack needed someone like Jimbo, who didn't look beyond the weekend in terms of planning for the future, needed to be able to leave at a moment's notice without breaking any hearts. He wasn't immune to the allure of being someone's first lover, but virgins were notorious for falling in love with the ones who busted their cherries.

When Jimbo started bitching, Jack left with him, mainly so they wouldn't disturb Ennis with the fight Jack was sure they were going to have. Jimbo was jealous by nature and could be counted on to jump to conclusions about what Jack and Ennis had been doing for the last hour. Jack was philosophical about it since he didn't really care if Jimbo was mad or not and the makeup sex was always good. However… glancing back at the door of Ennis's apartment, Jack knew whose face he'd be seeing when he closed his eyes tonight, and he knew that tomorrow night he'd be back.

Read Chapter Two of Bailey's I Am a Rock