“I could get used to this.”“Had to shake off last night’s beer,” Joe adds, gesturing as if waving something away. On paper is easier than the working and reworking of storylines in his head.“It’s all your ideas. Gay sex And Ben.He watches the steady rise and fall of Ben’s chest. “Like Hermes’ winged shoes… Athena’s shield? Ben, it matters!”Ben pushes his sweaty curls back with the palms of his hands, his nostrils flaring. Leave a load in his ass, or take his in theirs. “What’re they doing on Earth?”Joe shrugs. Brick walls still radiate the day’s heat, a muggy blanket that refuses to lift. He suspects if the artist wasn’t willing, it’d be another story. Cupid? It was nicknamed in ‘38, when Mayor Pasquale famously said, “This should have been an Eden for those seeking refuge. Mostly. The brick walls radiate it the day’s heat as if they’re breathing it out. He wipes his cockhead with it. Fit, but slim. But it has become a den of poverty and vice.” Joe doesn’t care about the history but knows the area surrounding Ben’s flat is the kind of place where he ought to be able to buy some trouble at a good price.He wanders until he sees a solid dark brick block of a building.
