  gars endommag(damaged boys) nineteen a stranger in the house He was driving in the dark. There was nowhere else to go but here, into the dark, into the unknown. Corey hated surprises, especially in his new career. Hed been hired to make an appearance way out east, in Claydon, beyond the county line, beyond the sensibilities of anyone mildly urbane. The drive had reached almost forty minutes as he pulled onto Route 44 somewhere in the middle of Crestwood County, somewhere literally in the middle of the dark. There were no streetlights and not even reflector plates running down the centerline.
Corey watched the road ahead with intensity, almost the same intensity of learning new choreography or learning the movements of his johns. Patrice had warned him about indiscriminate hook-ups and unfamiliar men, warned him about the intoxication of fast men and fast money. And he reminded him, above all else, there is the dance. In his own way, Patrice showed the strength, concern and the nurturing Corey wanted, wanted from his own father. But Corey also wanted the intense sexuality, the exquisite physicality of Patrices touch, the animal thrill of succumbing completely to desire. But, that was somewhere else for now.
Now, he had to find the next client, located out in this puddle of blackness, this rural nowhereland. Surrounded by quiet farms and cows and other livestock he couldnt see, he imagined his life in a different context. There were friends and family, lots of family, hed always wanted lots of siblings, and there was somehow a simpler life. There was support and love and laughter. Not the rigid, impenetrable and shallow parents, the insufferable sister and fucking Jesus. It was the church that really got in the waydestroyed what little hope he had of a normal family.
Especially now. Especially with their gay, ballet dancer son. Their gay, ballet dancing whore of a son who felt like a stranger in the house. The elephant in the room that no one acknowledges. And wouldnt it just be enough to deliver an unrecoverable blow to both his parents? Maybe an aneurysm.
Maybe a stroke or maybe even heart failure. No, not heart failure. Impossible when one has no heart. And there it was. Hed wished both of his parents dead, or comatose. If hed have believed in a god, he was sure hed have been struck down on the spot.
But, Corey believed only in the tangible, in the things he could actually see and touch. He believed in sex as religion, and he worshipped often. And it was Good. Corey arrived at the address quickly scrawled on an old electric bill. Hed grabbed it as he retrieved his messages from the service. Lou.
8462 Fowlers Mill. The house was enormous. Larger than anything hed imagined for someplace like this, way out in the middle of nowhere. Its outlined loomed large against the night sky. There was only a faint glow coming from a few windows on the first floor. He stepped up onto the front porch which stretched the length of the house, and wrapped around the corner.
He rang the doorbell, which chimed from someplace deep within the house. It was a good 45 seconds before he heard approaching footsteps. When the door swung open, heavy on its own hinges, it revealed a man, no more than 43, towering above him. He was a commanding presence but said very little. He motioned for Corey to follow him inside. The interior was almost all wood, the floors and the walls.
He set down his overnight bagwhat he had begun calling his ho bag. Just show me where you want me to dance for you. No dancing. But, you realize, youre paying me to dance for you, right? Thats what youre paying me to do. I understand.
No dancing, even though thats what Im paying for. I want you to follow me upstairs. Corey followed him to the second floor and down a long, dark hallway to the master bedroom. Beyond grotesque oil paintings and flickering nightlights near the baseboard. But, in front of him was this man, Lou, tall and quiet and sexy. He was of solid build, few words and intense.
Corey guessed ex-military. He had short-cropped hair and a permanent five oclock shadow. He was rugged and masculine and decisive. Corey was a stranger here, and he felt it with every step. Here. Lou pointed to the bed.
This is where I want you to perform. With that, he removed his clothes and revealed a physique that rivaled Coreys. Lets see what you can do. And Corey went to work, remembering nothing, noting no details and closing himself off from the horror of his own making. He felt as if he was outside of himself looking back at someone he didnt recognize. Seeing a whore and a liar and a failure.
Seeing the stranger hed become. 
