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The Pick-up

Eros and I had become good friends. Two hours, with no-one to talk to except the little stone kid.

I'd come into town with that terrified excited feeling that I always love - knowing that I'm just a short while away from being dominated by a new and mysterious Master, anticipating the pain and pleasure that comes from total submission.

I had answered his advert in Boyz, and we had spoken on the phone and arranged that we would meet in Piccadilly Circus, by Eros, at 7pm. Two hours ago. So finally, after giving him 'just a few more minutes' for the last time, I walked away, feeling depressed and lonely.

I decided to pass the time until my train home by looking around the nearby shops for horny men. I wandered through the Trocadero, where there wasn't much talent except a guy with short shorts and thighs that could crack walnuts, climbing out of one of the Virtual Reality machines. He saw me staring at him, but looked away - no chance there.

Then I walked over to Tower Records to look through the videos. While flipping though the action movies, I noticed a guy standing by the magazine section. I could only see his head, but his hair was tight shaven, just the way I like it.

Then he looked up, straight at me. I was embarrassed, so quickly looked away, then looked back a few seconds later. I couldn't believe that he was still looking straight at me! No expression on his face, but his eyes made me want to curl up under his stare - the were gorgeous!

As nonchalantly as possible, I wandered over to the magazine section and, as I hoped, he was looking at a monthly about body piercing and tattoos. He was just over six feet, well muscled everywhere, and was wearing a tight white tee-shirt, and jeans ripped at the knee and the arse - a picture of hornyness. But he didn't look up from his magazine.

I ambled over to where he was standing, took off my rucksack to put it down near him, then picked up something - anything - to read. Should I speak to him? Or just wait for him to speak? Or perhaps I've misread him entirely!

But as I was silently panicking, a small piece of cardboard fell at my feet. It was one of those annoying adverts stuck into magazines, but this one had fallen out of the mag he was reading. I looked over to him, but he appeared not to have noticed.

I knelt down to pick it up, but as I grabbed one corner, a huge boot came down on the other. I looked up, to see his delicious eyes peering right down into mine - the sort of stare that could kill a man at twenty yards - and the sort of features that just demanded obedience.

I was struck dumb and paralysed. What to do now? But once again, he acted before I had a chance. My senses became overpowered by a raw, animal odour - he had moved his sweaty leg within inches of my face, and his knee was poking at me out of the rip in his jeans. I took a deep breath of the essence of Man he exuded, and, with his eyes still holding me in their power, could do nothing except lean forward and kiss his knee. There, in the middle of Tower Records, with a man I'd known for 20 seconds.

The next thing I saw was his arse as he marched away down the aisle, throwing his rucksack over his shoulder. What was I supposed to do - follow? But I had to - it was my rucksack he had taken! I jumped to my feet, and tried to follow him, though he was marching at quite a pace.

He went up the stares and out of the shop, never once looking back. I followed, keeping always a few yards behind. He turned towards Shaftsbury Avenue, then turned up a side street into the darker part of Soho. Then he took another turning into a narrow alleyway - my mind was racing as to the sort of sex we could get up to in a place like this.

A few yards into the alley, he dropped the bag and turned around. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me against one wall. He slapped my face, not hard but enough to sting, and only when I saw the expression on his face did I realise the trouble I was in.

By the time his hand came back to slap me again, it had become obvious this was not at all what I had expected. I could try to run away, but he was easily able to physically overpower me - which is what attracted me to him in the first place! I was not now feeling that terrified excitement, but just pure terror.

He pulled me away from the wall, then slammed me into it again, knocking the wind out of me, then put his face right up to mine, so I could smell his breath as he growled, "Don't you ever - EVER - let yourself get picked up like that again."

Then he pushed me sideways into a dustbin, and walked away.

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This story is dated 1995/03 and had been viewed 5577 times.
It is filed under ID 'pickup' and under category: other

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