Saturday Morning Post 97: Truth or Dare (Part 3)

The third and final part of the next short story from my collection “24 Exposures.”

We continue with another story from my collection 24 Exposures, which was written around the turn of the century. Some old, familiar characters pop up in this one. Kevin, Rick, and Pedro game of Truth or Dare has spun even farther off of the rails.

“Truth,” Kevin said.

“New rule,” Pedro went on. “No more truth. Dares only.”…

“You can’t do that,” Kevin said.

“He just did,” Rick cut in. “What’s your dare, Kevie?”

“I’m not playing anymore,” Kevin whined. “You win.”

“I think Kevin here needs to go for a naked walk,” Rick said to Pedro.

“Right,” Pedro said. “Kevin. Clothes off.”

“I’m not playing — “

Before he could finish the sentence, Rick was there, knocking the glass from his hand, grabbing him in an arm lock, the other hand clamped under his chin, holding his face up.

“The game isn’t over until the host says it is, and there’s one more round to go.”

“Guys, come on…”

“Pedro, help me here.” Pedro nodded as Rick moved his hand from Kevin’s chin, grabbed the front of his t-shirt and ripped. He tore it all the way down, let go of Kevin’s arm and yanked it off.

“Hey, okay, enough — “ Kevin protested, but Pedro suddenly grabbed his ankles, lifting his feet off the ground. Rick caught Kevin by the shoulders and they dragged him into the living room, wrestling him to the ground. He put up a good struggle, but he was really no match, finally trying to curl into a ball, holding his boxers on. Rick grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen and, in two quick cuts and a yank, the boxers were history.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Rick said. Kevin sat up on the living room floor, face red, legs together, body hunched, trying to hide in the carpet.

“Okay, there, you had your fun,” his voice wavered, truly close to cracking now. “Give me my clothes back, I’m going home.”

“The fun’s just beginning,” Rick said, standing above him, hands on his hips. “What’s the big deal? We’re both still naked. It’s just a game.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“No. You know what’s funny? A guy who manipulates everyone around him, always manages to cause trouble without getting into any himself. Mr. Instigator, aren’t you? What’s your story, Kevin, really? Why do you get off on making problems?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. Or maybe you don’t. But if you don’t, then you’re a lot sadder than I thought you were. Hey, Pedro, what do you think we should do with him?”

“I don’t know. You want to go dump him in Compton?”

“That’s too far. Maybe just Van Nuys.”

“Rick, man, come on. What did I ever do to you?”

That hit a nerve. Rick thought about it, realized the answer was “Plenty.” Never anything openly or obvious, but Kevin had screwed lots of things up. Generally, it involved ruining some macking attempt by Rick at a party. He’d be moving in for the score on some hoochie, really catching her eye, and then Kevin would pop up, make some rude comment and vanish. But that would be enough. Women often judged men by their friends, rightly or wrongly, and their interest would wane.

And there were all those times that Rick would have succeeded at a party, stepped away to get drinks for himself and his new found female friend, and come back to find that Kevin had horned in, wouldn’t go away, became a parasite, and yet was apparently ignorant of the intrusion. Many a night with Kevin around had ended with a woman suddenly excusing herself, saying her friend had a headache and she had to go now, and the phone number she’d give Rick in parting was always wrong.

“Get up,” Rick suddenly said. Kevin rolled his eyes and huffed. Rick grabbed his arm. “Up, now.”

“Give me my pants,” Kevin said.

“Stand up and you’ll get them.”

They stared at each other, Kevin glowering, Rick realizing he’d never seen him look so angry. Finally, Kevin hauled himself to his feet, stood there with his hands covering his crotch, nostrils flaring.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m up.”

“And now you’re down,” Rick said, and he knocked Kevin cold with a single right hook that sent him spread-eagle onto the sofa, TKO.

* * *

The first thing Kevin noticed when he woke up was that he was staring at the carpet, lying across the coffee table. The second thing he noticed was the duct tape on his mouth. Third was that his wrists and ankles were tied to the table legs. Fourth, and most disconcerting in his mind, was that he was still naked, ass in the air, and he couldn’t move.

He heard Rick and Pedro off in the kitchen, talking in whispers, pausing, talking again. He pulled with his arms, but it was useless. He was pretty well secured.

Rick appeared from the kitchen, still naked, half full glass in his hand. Kevin lifted his head, turned his eyes. Pedro was hanging back, looking worried, fully dressed.

“Sorry about that, Kevie,” Rick said as he knelt in front of him, dick at eye level if Kevin looked anywhere but the floor. “Looks like you’ll have a little bit of a shiner there, but you kind of earned it.”

Kevin grunted an angry inaudible sentence through the duct tape. Rick lay on his side and looked up at him.

“I know, you’re probably pissed. But it was your turn for the dare.”

Kevin’s eyes flashed and he yanked and kicked, to no avail. Rick went on, “See, it could have been truth, but rules are rules. The truth part was so much simpler. How come you always get away with it?”

Kevin’s eyes widened, one thick eyebrow lifted. What?

“You know what I’m talking about,” Rick continued. “Everything you do, everybody you fuck with, and it never seems to come back to you. It’s like you’ve got this magic karma or something. I mean, what, were you Gandhi in your last life? Hell, you’re skinny enough to be, aren’t you?”

Rick reached out and pinched Kevin’s bicep, feeling bone. The kid was thin, pale, soft. If it weren’t for the genitalia, his body could have easily been that of a very tall, late-blooming thirteen year-old girl. “Remember Jennifer?”

A worried noise blew muffled through the duct tape. “Oh, yeah, see, you do. And you know exactly what you did. I didn’t think you were completely oblivious.” Rick lay on his back, looking up at Kevin now. “There I was, about to score with this hot young blonde with the huge tits, and poof! Kevin appears, to work his bad magic. ‘Hi, Rick. That rash clear up yet?’ ‘Oh, looks like Big Mac is gonna get him some special sauce.’ ‘G, thanks for letting me borrow your crab shampoo…’ But I can never figure out whether it’s revenge or stupidity. If it’s revenge, well, you’re in big trouble then, Kevie. If it’s stupidity, I’m here to give you some smart lessons.”

“Rick…” Kevin saw Pedro’s feet out of the corner of his eye, half-turned toward the door. “I’m going to go now, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Rick said absently. “Hey, I told you, don’t worry. We’re just playing a game. Right?”

“Right. See you later.”

And Kevin heard Pedro leave, heard the door close, but something in the way Rick had said “right” scared him. It wasn’t a reminder, it was a warning, but whether it was to him or Pedro or both, he didn’t know. He tried to tell Rick the fun was over, let him go, but it came out as gibberish.

“Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. I guess you did the dare, now it’s time for the truth, so here we go. Truth, Kevo. Do you do it for revenge or are you just stupid?”

“Ow!” Kevin yelled as Rick suddenly tore the duct tape off his mouth, leaving his lips raw. And then Rick grabbed Kevin’s hair with his left hand, lifted his head, looked into his eyes.

“Which one is it?” he demanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kevin insisted.

“Liar,” Rick admonished. He brought his right hand up, gently touched the side of Kevin’s face. Kevin flinched at the unexpected pain. “That’s going to be a nasty bruise,” Rick said. “Ruin your pretty-boy looks for a while. As if.”

“What do you want?” Kevin choked out.

“I want the truth, that’s all,” Rick said.

“I haven’t done anything to you,” Kevin insisted. “Really. I haven’t. You’re my friend, Rick.”

“You don’t have any friends.” Rick leaned down, looked right in Kevin’s eyes. “Isn’t that right? Deep down, you know it. You don’t have any friends.”

Kevin’s lip trembled and he let out one gasp before he sucked it all in and changed strategies. “Melinda knows I was coming here tonight,” he said. “And Stacey. So if anything happens — “

“Kevie, I’m not going to hurt you. Anyway, you think either of them would really care if you just vanished? You’ve pissed them off, you’ve pissed me off. But, most heinously, you’ve pissed off somebody very important to me, and I want you to apologize.”

“Okay, who, I’ll do it,” Kevin sputtered. Rick grinned, leaning up on his knees, both hands wrapped in Kevin’s hair now.

“Well, see, you’ve really done a disservice to Little Rick here, by interfering in his affairs so many times.”

Kevin tried to turn his head away as Rick raised his hips, bringing Little Rick — who wasn’t that little — right into the line of sight. Kevin closed his eyes, but Rick put a thumb on the black eye, insisted, “Open wide and say you’re sorry.” Kevin squinted his eyes shut tighter but Rick kept pressing until he had no choice but to relent. He opened his eyes and Rick’s penis was less than an inch from his nose. It was limp, but it was a dick, for Christ’s sake. Kevin could smell the stale musky scent of Rick’s pubic hair, tried not to breathe.

“Now, say you’re sorry,” Rick said.

“I haven’t done anything,” Kevin squealed back, closing his eyes again.

“Yes, you have,” Rick replied. Then, he leaned forward and Kevin felt this warm, soft thing press into his face, Rick’s hairy balls swing around his nose. He breathed through his mouth, trying to pull his head back, hoping those things would drop low enough that he could bite them off, then he’d say he was sorry. But Rick pulled Kevin’s head forward, pushed his hips, rubbing that thing all over his face and Kevin could feel it getting less soft, though not much less.

“Stop it!” he finally screamed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry, for whatever you think I’ve done, I’m sorry, leave me alone, let me go. I’m sorry…”

“Well, I believe you,” Rick said, loosening his grip slightly. “But little Rick doesn’t. He says he wants you to kiss him to prove you’re sorry.”

“Rick, goddammit, this isn’t funny anymore.”

“This isn’t a joke. Pucker up, Kevie.”

Kevin screwed his eyes and mouth shut, trying to turn his head away, but Rick tightened his grip again, put his thumb to the bruise. Kevin cried out, trying to fight, but Rick twisted him around, then pressed his dick to Kevin’s lips. Kevin’s face went tighter and Rick let his head go, stepping away.

“See?” he said. “I knew you didn’t mean it.”

Rick picked up his drink and took a sip, absently scratching his side, watching this pathetic mess who had been such a confident boor only an hour earlier. This demon that had caused so much trouble, now completely helpless, ruined, scared.

Helpless.

Rick realized he’d gotten fully hard when that thought crossed his mind, but it wasn’t a sexual kind of arousal. It was power. He had complete control over Kevin, the boy was utterly subdued, and god, was it making Rick horny. He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected that at all. So this was the real excitement of war, he decided.

He put down his drink, went to the door and locked the deadbolt. He turned and looked at Kevin’s frail white body, sprawled over the coffee table, knees on the floor. He gave his dick an idle stroke, then walked back to the table, stood in front of it, looking down.

“You’re just a pathetic little girl,” he said. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, whatever you say,” Kevin threw back sarcastically. Then he looked up, saw Rick’s erection pointing at the ceiling, and let out an incoherent gurgle of fear. “No…” he pleaded. “No, god, no, please…”

“Shut up,” Rick said, then he put the duct tape back over Kevin’s mouth. Kevin shuddered and started yanking at his bonds in earnest, helpless. Rick went around behind him. Yeah, from this angle, skinny waist and wide hips, it could have been a young girl. He stuck the middle finger of his left hand in his mouth, got it good and wet and shoved it, with little fanfare, up Kevin’s ass all the way to the third knuckle. Kevin’s hips leapt off the table and he tried to pull away, but couldn’t.

Rick pulled his finger out, thought about gently working his way into things, then figured, “Fuck it.” He’d gone too far to back out now, and power was an aphrodisiac. And so, he put down his drink, got on his knees behind the table, spread Kevin’s cheeks wide with his hands and jammed his painfully hard dick all the way home in one stroke, then raped the little fucker, jamming in and out and Rick didn’t stop until he’d cum and Kevin had given up any struggle, flopping like a rag doll onto the table, broken and finished, and in this evening’s game of truth or dare, Rick emerged the only winner.

* * *

Rick had felt guilty after last night, had cleaned Kevin up with a warm washcloth, then untied him and gently pulled off the duct tape. But, at that point, Kevin had been an inert lump, not really moving, face contorted in an expression of pain and fear. He didn’t do anything when Rick freed his hands, just flopped onto the floor. He was no threat anymore. Rick carried him to the bedroom, put him in bed and covered him, then grabbed a blanket from the linen closet and slept on the couch.

Morning.

Rick woke up to bright ten a.m. light, head banging. He sat up, remembering what had happened, looking at the coffee table in trepidation, seeing no one there. Aw, shit. He’d really been wasted last night, he didn’t mean to… maybe he hadn’t.

No. He had, he knew it. Fuck. He dragged himself off the couch, wrapping the blanket around his waist, went into the bedroom.

He’d expected Kevin to be gone, but he wasn’t. He was lying in the bed, crunched up in a fetal position, clutching a pillow. He looked so… harmless now. He was facing the door, and Rick could see the ugly purple-yellow bruise on his face. He regretted doing that, really he did.

He went to the bed, gently sat down on the edge, whispered a timid, “Kev?” Nothing. He raised a hand to reach over, pulled back. He dreaded this moment. “Kevie?”

Kevin’s eyes slowly opened, looked up at Rick. Neither of them moved for a long moment. Then, the silence of the room was broken by Kevin’s sharp intake of breath, a series of sobs. He sat up, staring at Rick, who didn’t know what to expect. If Kevin tried to kick the shit out of him right now, he wouldn’t fight back.

And then Kevin threw his arms around Rick, held him tight, face buried in his chest, sobbing. “I thought you were my friend, Rick,” he cried. “I thought you were my friend.”

Rick stared down at him. That face was so sweet and innocent. He was a child impersonating an adult, really. He listened to Kevin crying for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around him, held him.

“Sssssh,” Rick said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Kevie, really. I am so sorry.”

“I thought you liked me,” Kevin went on, and Rick felt the hot wet tears splattering down his stomach.

“I do like you,” he answered. “I really do. I do like you, Kevin. Sssssh.”

And they stayed like that for a long time, Kevin crying and Rick gently rocking him back and forth, holding him in his arms, wanting to do anything to stop his pain, to protect him from the cruel world, to make the hurt go away. And he knew, in that moment, that he and Kevin would be inextricably linked, bound together by fate, for years, for decades, if not forever.

“Ssssh,” Rick repeated, again and again, as this gentle harmless angel cried and cried in his arms.

* * *

Saturday Morning Post 96: Truth or Dare (Part 2)

Part 2 of the next short story from my collection “24 Exposures.”

We continue with another story from my collection 24 Exposures, which was written around the turn of the century. Some old, familiar characters pop up in this one. Previously, Kevin, Rick, and Pedro started a game of Truth or Dare that may be spiraling out of control as Pedro is up for the next “Truth.”

“Pedro, truth or dare?”

“Shit. I’m not drinking bongwater. Truth.”

“Okay,” Rick thought, not really wanting to stick Pedro with anything nasty. He was too nice a guy for that. He thought, then settled on something innocuous. “When was the last time you got laid?”

Pedro didn’t even hesitate, but he looked nervous. “Last week, Tuesday afternoon,” he said.

Rick thought for a second, then gasped. “Wait a second, weren’t you at work?”

Pedro nodded.

“You got laid at work?”

“Bzzzzz,” Kevin interjected. “That’s another question.”

“Oh, you want to know as much as I do.”

“Sorry,” Kevin said, but it was true. Rick did want to know, but he wasn’t going to give Kevin the satisfaction. But he thought about it. Who did Pedro do on Tuesday? And, apparently, “do” was the right word. But who…

“Shit,” Rick said out loud, realizing. He looked at Pedro, who was looking away, calling out, “My turn. Kevin. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Kevin said.

“Don’t be a pussy,” Rick said. “Take a dare.”

“It’s not your turn,” Kevin replied.

“Okay,” Pedro thought, looking to Rick. He really wanted to help Rick out here, but didn’t know Kevin well enough to dig up anything really juicy. He’d have to go for an old standby. “How many times did you jerk off today?”

“Didn’t have to,” Kevin spat back, chuckling.

“Liar!” Rick pointed accusingly.

“Excuse me, drink,” Kevin answered him, pointing with his elbow. “No finger pointing.”

“Since when?”

“It’s a standard rule of drinking games. I thought you used to go to a fancy school.”

“Well then, you should know that another standard rule is you can’t say the ‘d’ word. Imbibe, asshole.”

“Imbibe this,” Kevin gestured, but he picked up a shot glass and downed it anyway. Rick did likewise.

“My turn,” Kevin said. “And, new rule — “

“Whoa, what?” Rick cut in.

“Another standard rule of dr — imbibing games, read the manual. Whoever’s turn it is can make up a new rule. And my rule is, if anyone violates another rule, they have to do the next dare, no matter whose it is.” He smirked and touched his nose and Rick really wanted to smack him upside the head. “Now. Rick, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Rick muttered.

“Losing your confidence, huh? Okay, how many times have you jerked off today?”

“None,” Rick answered.

“Liar — “

“Wrong,” Rick said. “Today started at midnight, and neither of you have seen me play with myself since then, right?” Kevin looked genuinely surprised by that explanation, which was true. Then, he laughed and downed another shot.

“I meant in the last twenty-four hours,” he said.

“Well, better luck next time. My turn, and a new rule. You can only take ‘truth’ twice before you have to take a dare, and the rule is retroactive. Kevin, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Kevin answered, but realized the trap before Rick could point it out. “Aw, shit. Dare,” he corrected himself.

“Hm…” Rick thought about it a while, then stood, walking to the kitchen. Kevin fidgeted, smiling wanly at Pedro.

“I think you’re fucked now,” Pedro said.

Kevin returned, carrying something behind his back. “Okay,” he said. “You have to put this down the front of your pants for three minutes.”

“What, your mouth?” Kevin sniped, but it was empty bravado, especially as soon as Kevin brought his hands forward, held out the frozen solid packet of blue ice.

“Oh, no fucking way, G,” Kevin said.

“Then it’d be game over and I win,” Rick taunted him, dropping the packet on the table, where it clunked and turned half a revolution, frosting white already.

“I’ll freeze my nuts off,” Kevin protested.

“You’ll never miss ‘em,” Rick prodded.

“One minute.”

“Three.” Rick was enjoying this, and it was par for the course. There were no convenient distractions in the game this time, nobody upon whom Kevin could deflect attention.

“Two…?”

Rick pretended to think about it, finally nodded. “Okay. Down the pants, two minutes. Inside the underwear.” Pedro laughed as Kevin reached for the blue ice, picked it up, tossed it from hand to hand.

“This shit is cold,” he said.

“I know,” Rick said. “Down the hatch.” Kevin huffed and stood, loosening his belt. Then, he gave Rick a really dirty look and shoved the blue ice on in. It took about three seconds for it to kill the dirty look and Kevin let out a yelp, fumbled the pack back out and dropped it on the floor, falling backwards onto the couch, holding his crotch.

“Son of a bitch,” he grunted.

“Well, nice try, but that doesn’t count, so you drink,” Rick told him snidely.

Kevin pointed an elbow at him. “And the next dare, you get to share, ‘cause you just said the forbidden word, motherfucker.” He tossed down his shot of Tequila and Rick cursed inside. Even when Kevin lost, he somehow managed to win.

“Okay, Pedro, truth or dare?”“

Pedro pondered. This was getting nasty between Rick and Kevin. On the other hand, Kevin didn’t know Pedro that well, he’d probably give him some stupid, easy dare, then Pedro would pick Rick and give him a free pass and the game would lighten up a bit. Confidently, he answered, “Dare.”

Rick rolled his eyes and Kevin smirked and Pedro realized he’d blown it.

“Welly, welly, well,” Kevin said. “This one is for you and Rick, since he broke the rules last time. Hm. What will it be, what will it be?”

Kevin stretched out his thinking, making a big show of it as Rick and Pedro swapped an apologetic look. Whatever was cooking in Kevin’s evil mind, this would be a good one. Suddenly, his face lit up and he froze for an instant, hands lifted in preparatory gesture. “Okay, okay,” he said. “The two of you… are going to go take a little swim in the pool, for five… no, ten minutes. But… you’re going to do it, from here all the way there and back, butt naked.”

“Come on, Kev, I live here.”

“It’s three in the morning, G.”

“So?”

Kevin got that stupid cockeyed grin again and clucked like a chicken. Rick looked at Pedro. “You up for this, Petey?” he asked.

“Nothing I haven’t done before,” Pedro said. “And it’s my dare, anyway.”

Kevin jumped up giggling and Rick and Pedro started to get undressed. The whole process took a good five minutes as they continued to haggle with Kevin. Towels? “No.” Flip flops? “Too noisy.” Keys? “What’s a matter, don’t you trust me?” Frankly, Rick didn’t, but by now he and Pedro were bare-assed in the living room and Kevin was standing at the door, all smiles, unlocking the deadbolt. His sole concession had been allowing Rick to take his watch, alarm set for ten minutes.

“Gentlemen, enjoy. I hope the water isn’t too cold.”

He opened the door and Rick lead the way, he and Pedro dashing down the courtyard. At least most of the lights were off and the moon was nowhere in sight. They got to the pool and waded in quickly. The water was a chilly shock at first, but at least it was dark and quiet. After a few seconds, Rick actually enjoyed this feeling and he swam underwater to the deep end, surfacing under the diving board. Pedro popped up nearby. Rick squinted the water out of his eyes, looked into the distance. Kevin was standing in the pool of light by the far apartment door, doing hysterical gymnastics, gleeful at his triumphant dare.

“He’s such a little fuck,” Rick whispered to Pedro.

“Why do you hang out with him, anyway?”

“I really don’t know,” Rick answered.

“You’ll have to get him really good on the next dare.”

“Oh, I will,” Rick said. “You know, it’s funny, I’ve lived in this building for two years, and this is the first time I’ve been in the pool.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Half the time, it’s full of screaming kids. Who the hell wants to swim around that? God knows how many of them probably piss in here.”

“Eeew.”

Rick kicked off from the wall and did the breaststroke to the shallow end, then came back. Pedro clung to the wall and Rick joined him again. “You can swim, can’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Pedro answered. “You know, this is the second time this month I’ve been in a pool naked.”

Rick didn’t want to say it, but he did. “That have anything to do with the last time you got laid?” He thought Pedro shrugged, but couldn’t tell in the darkness. “It was Mrs. Cooper, wasn’t it?”

“Shit,” Pedro’s outburst gave him away. “Don’t mention that to anybody, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m not surprised, though. I’ve heard things about her.”

“Rick, honestly, her husband will kill me if he thinks I told anyone about it.”

“You did fuck her?”

“Oh yeah.”

“And?”

“And it was great. But, really, don’t say anything, okay? Especially not now, not if I’m going to have to get out of this pool soon.”

“Understood, buddy. Hey — good for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, changing the subject. How should we get back at Kevin for this one?”

“Tie him up naked and dump him in a bad neighborhood.”

“Ooh, you have an evil side. That’s new.”

“I was kidding.”

“It’s a possibility, though.”

“It’s too cruel. Come on, you know him better than me. He’s got to have some weakness.”

“He’s too shallow for that. You think it’s been ten minutes yet?”

“Not even close.”

“Kevin’s still watching, he doesn’t know how long it’s been either. Fuck him. Let’s go.”

“Give me a second.”

“Right.”

Rick swam for the shallow end and climbed out of the pool. It was an evening in summer and not terribly cold out, but the water on his body made it seem chilly. He wished he’d managed to bargain for those towels now. Instead, he stood there with his back to the pool, watching distant Kevin laughing, waiting for Pedro to join him. What was Kevin’s weakness? What would absolutely humiliate him, neutralize him for good?

Rick didn’t have a clue, and then he heard the slosh of water as Pedro climbed out of the pool behind him. “Ready?” Rick asked.

“Yeah,” Pedro said, hands crossed in front of him, shoulders hunched in as he shivered. “Let’s go.”

Rick grabbed his watch off the lounge chair, hitting the “off” button on the timer, and he and Pedro trotted back to the apartment. When they were halfway there, Kevin suddenly darted inside. Rick heard the door close, but was unconcerned. He got there first, tried the knob anyway, knowing it was locked. Pedro stopped next to him, shifting from foot to foot, looking like a drowned Doberman.

“Aw, shit…” he groaned.

“Don’t worry,” Rick whispered. “Play along.” He tried the knob again, rattling it, then rang the bell. “Come on, Kevo,” he said not too loudly. “Let us in.”

Kevin peered out the window by the door, cheeks chipmunked by a grin, body racking with laughter as he pointed with his elbow. Rick rang the bell three insistent times, gave Kevin a look.

“Motherfucker,” Pedro snapped.

Rick sssshed him. “I have a key hidden, I’m just adding to the effect,” he whispered.

“Oh,” Pedro nodded. “Just add fast. Shrinkage, you know?”

“Kevin…” Rick pointed at the door insistently. Kevin stuck his face up to the window, gave them a double finger and disappeared.

“Right,” Rick said, bending over and picking up a rock from the flower bed by the door, hefting it in his hand as he peered in the window. Then he turned the rock over and slid open the hatch in the bottom, pulling out his spare key, put the rock back and very slowly unlocked the deadbolt. Just as slowly, he unlocked the lower lock, then looked at Pedro, quietly said, “One, two, three…”

On three, he threw open the door, he and Pedro shot in and Rick shut and locked the door behind him. Kevin was standing in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of Tequila, looking startled. So startled, in fact, that he over-poured.

“Uh, hi, guys. I was just going to let you in.”

“Your turn, Pedro.”

“Aw, you guys win, I give up,” Kevin shrugged.

“Pedro?”

“Okay. Kevin. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Kevin said.

“New rule,” Pedro went on. “No more truth. Dares only.”…

To be continued…

* * *

Saturday Morning Post 95: Truth or Dare (Part 1)

The next short story from my collection “24 Exposures.”

We continue with another story from my collection 24 Exposures, which was written around the turn of the century. Some old, familiar characters pop up in this one.

Another boring Sunday night, and it was the three of them again, Kevin, Rick and Pedro, sitting around Rick’s apartment, not much to do and not much energy to do it with. Rick was the lynchpin here. He worked with Pedro and went to school with Kevin, although he was halfway to quitting the job and half a grade point from getting booted out of school. He didn’t really care at the moment. Monday was his day off from work and his first class wasn’t until two o’clock. He sat on the floor, carefully shredding and combing a fat bud in preparation for another bong load while Pedro watched intently and Kevin sat on the sofa, legs crossed, holding Rick’s giant stuffed panda in an almost inappropriate way, chattering a mile and a half a minute about nothing.

“G, it was amazing,” he said, bouncing on the couch. “You should have seen it.”

“Uh huh,” Rick muttered, not listening.

“The cops came and everything, it was classic.” He giggled in that annoying way of his, like a Catholic schoolgirl seeing her first porno, then got a very serious expression. “G, call her.”

“Man, it’s two in the morning.”

“She’ll be up. Come on, call Melinda.”

“No.”

“Maybe she’ll bring her sister…” Kevin said, almost singsong.

“In your wet dreams, dude,” Rick said.

“I bet they would,” Kevin shot back, grabbing the phone off the dining room table.

“You’re a pig and you’re stupid,” Rick replied. “Here, suck on this and shut up.” He held out the results of his efforts and Kevin put down the phone, grabbing the bong and extending his hand for the lighter. “Melinda and Stacey are not some lesbian sister act. They’re nice girls. You should respect them.”

“Oh, I respect them,” Kevin said, making it sound even more obscene than he intended. “I saw Melinda’s tits once.”

“Yeah, so? I saw your mother’s tits.” Rick shot Kevin a grin, then saw the look on his face, like he almost believed that comment. “Kidding,” he added. “Sorry.”

“Don’t… don’t say stuff like that, okay?”

Jesus, Rick thought, that sure hit some weird soft spot. It was like he’d shot Kevin’s dog or something. “Hey, dude, I said I’m sorry, okay?” Rick offered. Kevin nodded and moped, head down, and then let out a choked sob.

“Shit, Kevin, I didn’t mean it, really.”

Kevin gestured vaguely and Rick and Pedro looked at each other, a little embarrassed. “Kevin…?” Rick started, but then Kevin looked up, a big shit-eating grin on his face. “Psych!” he said. “I don’t cry for nothing. Never.” Triumphantly, he picked up the bong and took a gurgling hit off of it.

“Sometimes, you’re such an asshole,” Rick said.

“I aim to please,” Kevin answered while holding in the hit, passing the bong to Pedro. Pedro took it and fired away while Rick stared at Kevin, incomprehending. Sometimes, he didn’t know why he hung out with this guy. Then he heard Pedro huffing up the smoke and remembered — Kevin did get the best weed Rick had ever had. Pedro was cool. If Kevin was King Asshole, Pedro was some kind of anti-asshole. Quiet, polite, agreeable. That got a little boring sometimes, but at least he wasn’t obnoxious. As Pedro passed the bong to Rick, Kevin finally exhaled. Rick put his mouth over the skunky tube, then looked at Kevin.

“So, when the hell did you see Stacey’s rack, anyway?”

“Melinda’s rack.”

“Same difference.”

“They’re not completely identical. We were playing truth or dare.”

“Aah, of course. And I bet the game was your idea, right?”

“Not that time, no.”

Pedro looked at Rick oddly. Rick noticed, raised an eyebrow. “Truth or dare?” Pedro asked.

“Yeah, some stupid party game for high school girls and sexually repressed college boys,” Rick explained.

“Who usually aren’t sexually repressed by the time the game is over, thank you very much,” Kevin added. He looked at Pedro, who still looked confused. “What, you’ve never played?”

“He’s not a skank like you are, Kevie,” Rick said, then put the fire in the hole and sucked away.

“It’s not a skanky game. It’s like group therapy,” Kevin explained to Pedro. “You really never played it?”

“No,” Pedro answered, shaking his head. “The girls I know aren’t like that.”

“Catholic school, is it?” Kevin laughed.

“He said aren’t like that, douchebag,” Rick barked out, holding the smoke.

“That’s right. Some of the best pussy I’ve gotten has gone to Catholic school.”

“Would that be St. Rosy Palm and the Sisters of Perpetual Motion?” Rick asked, punctuated with the proper gesture. Kevin shot him the finger, then popped off the couch and sat in front of Pedro.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never played it,” he said.

“And we’re not,” Rick said, rapping him on the shoulder and passing the bong.

“I wasn’t suggesting it, ass-wad,” he answered, grabbing the bong. “I don’t see any girls here.”

“No, just a big pussy.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Bite me.”

Kevin gnashed his teeth in Rick’s general direction, giggled, then took another hit. Rick turned to Pedro. “Don’t mind him, he doesn’t get out much. You okay? You’re kind of quiet tonight?”

“Fine,” Pedro said. “Very stoned, though.”

“Yes sir, I do agree,” Rick said. “This is certainly the most primo example of fine herbage you’ve yet commandeered for our personal use, Kevo.”

“Too many words, G,” Kevin said, passing the bong to Pedro, who declined and passed it to Rick. Rick took another hit, watching the other guys as he did so. Both of them were assuming the horizontal position, happily stoned floor flounder on the cheap carpet. Rick glanced at the clock. Five after two. It seemed like an hour since he’d last looked and it had been two o’clock. Time dilation had been achieved. He slowly eased the bong into position on the table, then lay down himself, staring at the ceiling, fascinated with the faint brown water spot that crept out of the wall and through the off-white cottage cheese. It had been there as long as Rick had. Longer. It would be there, no doubt, long after he’d gone.

Kevin was muttering some stoner monologue, about how there’d be no wars in the world if political struggles were settled with a game of truth or dare. “Like, I bet we’d just smear Fidel Castro in one move. ‘Okay, G, I dare you. Shave your beard.’ He wouldn’t do it, game over.” He laughed again. Rick flinched at the sound, which seemed to echo off the ceiling. It really was a puerile, girly giggle, an involuntary burst that always sounded like Kevin had just been gang tickled by a flock of animate feather dusters.

“Oh, you’re not Cuban or nothing, are you, Pedro?” Kevin asked, Rick flinching anew at that question.

“I was born in Pacoima,” Pedro answered.

“Truth,” Kevin spouted. The response was silence, which Rick knew was the most frustrating thing in the world to him. “I said, ‘truth,’“ Kevin continued.

“We’re not playing,” Rick said.

“I’m bored,” Kevin whined. “Anyway, it’s a drinking game.”

“It is not,” Rick shot back.

“It can be,” Kevin explained. “Anything can be a drinking game.”

“I like drinking games,” Pedro offered from somewhere across the carpet. “None of us’s got to do anything in the morning.”

“Let me get the drinks,” Kevin heaved himself up from the floor and stumbled off to the kitchen.

Rick turned his head, found his nose an inch from Pedro’s right ear. “Now you’ve done it,” he said.

“What?” Pedro asked, turning his head, eyes almost crossing to focus.

“I’ve seen him do this before, he’s always the first one to start this and the first one to back out of anything mildly embarrassing.”

“Yeah, but like he said, no girls here. How bad could it get?”

“You don’t know Kevin,” Rick sighed. Kevin was an instigator, the kind of person who took passive-aggressive glee in giving a group the right nudge, then watching all their neuroses and problems play out on each other while he sat back, always seemingly immune to it all. He had the annoying ability to fade away in a crowd when the sparks started flying, Mr. Innocent in the corner, never connected to the trouble he caused once things got rolling. Rick had no doubt that Kevin had seen Stacey, or Melinda, or whoever’s tits at a party, but he also had no doubt that he hadn’t had to make that demand to get his wish. Just a little clever manipulation of some other poor, dumb schmuck who wanted a peek — toss a few offhand comments into a brain already set on purée, and the resulting cocktail was Kevin’s recipe, someone else’s hemlock.

Why did people seem to like him? That was what Rick didn’t get. But hell, half the time, he liked Kevin, or put up with him, at least. It had to be that face. Not that he was cute. No, it was that he looked innocent and harmless, like an altar boy suddenly thrust into an adult body. No, not thrust. Stretched. He was tall and skinny, and you’d find bigger muscles in a bucket of KFC, although it was a toss-up between man and chicken which one was more deeply fried.

Anyway, no matter how annoying he got, telling him off would have been like punching a kitten.

Kevin came back with the Tequila — the good stuff, not the Cuervo, the putz — and three shot glasses, at least one of which still had most of the gold intact on the three Greek letters down the side. That was the only memento Rick still had from his eighteen-month freshman year at Purdue. That, and there was a faceless picture of his ass still floating around on the Internet, his souvenir to the world from his first and only Freshman Nude Olympics snow run.

But that had nothing to do with why he left.

“So,” Kevin explained, setting the glasses on the table and slopping Tequila into them, “You call truth or dare, and you have to answer honestly or do the dare, or else you drink.”

“And the point of this game is…?” Rick asked, sitting up.

“Staving off boredom,” Kevin answered simply.

Pedro dragged himself to the table and sat there waiting. Nobody said anything for a while. Finally, Pedro asked, “Who goes first?”

“I will,” Rick said. “Kevin — truth or dare?” he asked, knowing already what it would be.

“Truth,” Kevin said.

Ah, yes, always the safe way. “Okay, Kevo,” Rick said. “Are you a big fag?”

“Hell, no,” Kevin answered without hesitation. “My point, and… Rick. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Rick replied, defiantly.

“And the man’s got serious scrotage,” Kevin said to Pedro, thinking. “Let’s see…” Kevin’s eyes flickered around the room and he bit his lower lip. Then, he picked up the bong and passed it across the table. “Have a sip, Ricky.”

Okay, Rick thought, that didn’t take very long to get disgusting. But he wasn’t going to let Kevin get away with it tonight. He took the bong, looking Kevin right in the eye, Pedro staring in disbelief. Rick smiled, hoisted the bong in a toast and said, “Salud.” Then, he lifted it to his lips and tilted it back. God, the smell could have killed a hog, but he knew the thing was opaque enough that no one would notice he kept his lips shut. The water was cold and rancid, but none of it actually got in his mouth.

He put the bong down and coughed in half-mock disgust. Kevin’s face was motionless, mouth open and Pedro had fallen on the floor, moaning, “Oh, man. Gross.”

“My point,” Rick smiled.

“Fu-u-uck,” Kevin finally said.

“Pedro, truth or dare?”…

To be continued

* * *
%d bloggers like this: