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Like Dust in the Wind

by Jack Lynch

Chapter 24

Like Dust In the Wind


"What is the point?"

Omar just glared at him.

Apollo hadn't even seen Amir in, what? A month? Maybe two months? That is, until yesterday.

"C'mon. What do I havta do to get out of here?"

Omar smirked. I can think of something. Praise Allah! The vision of his lips wrapped around Apollo's exquisite cock. What it must taste like! But, then, faced with burning for eternity in Hell?

"You serve at the behest of my boss for as long as he wishes." Omar leered at Apollo.

Apollo gave him a look of disgust. He just walked away.

"Let me know if you need anything," Omar called after him.

Not stopping, Apollo just lifted his hand in a middle-fingered salute.

A couple of days ago. He was walking down the hallway when the door to Amir's bedroom bumped open. In an instant, he was face-to-face with a beautiful boy. Asian, probably Chinese, skinny, thin boy arms and legs, hair long on top, shaved on the sides. He wore a t-shirt and bike shorts, bare feet.

They just looked at each other for a few moments. Apollo finally smirked and turned to walk away.

Okay. Now he got it. Amir's attention had turned to some obviously much younger stuff. In an instant, Apollo felt a ripple in his dick. An image of that boy, his knees pulled up to his chest, his ass open, flashed in his mind. Then he was immediately disgusted with himself.

They all got together for dinner later. Amir held court, sitting at the head of the table. Apollo to his left. The boy opposite. And, for good measure, another boy, sitting next to him.

This one, completely different looking. Long dirty blond hair, messy and stringy, past his shoulders. Blue eyes, a long skinny nose, long face, sunken cheeks, pale skin. Maybe fourteen, if that. He wore a faded t-shirt.

The women, Amir's wives, were being served in a different dining room.

"This is Jie and that's Brodie," Amir said, chewing on his prime rib, using his knife as a pointer.

Apollo just looked blankly across at them. Jie stared back, his hands in his lap. Brodie must have been famished. He tore into the prime rib, potatoes, and green beans like there was no tomorrow. Gulping his milk, he let out an enormous burp.

"Sorry," he said, in a high giggle. Without another word, he kept shoveling it in.

For the rest of the meal, hardly another word was said. The only sounds came from the clinking of silverware on china and the sound of water and milk being refilled into crystal stemware. Amir sipped on a glass of wine.

"Stand!" Omar barked. After the dishes were cleared, he appeared from out of nowhere to make his command. The three of them stood immediately by their chairs. Amir sat slumped in his own chair, appearing somewhat tired.

"Tomorrow, I think we spend at the pool." Without another word, he got up and left the room.

Apollo wore the most conservative swimsuit he owned. Baggy legged board shorts, long, almost to his knees. He smirked when he saw the two boys. Brodie wore a pair of hot pink Speedo's that barely covered his narrow ass. Scars on his back and faded bruises on his arms and chest hinted at his recent past. Jie's outfit consisted of a bright blue onesie, sleeveless, also cut high on his hips. The outline of his thin dick was obvious.

Amir seemed to be in a light hearted mood. He playfully threw Jie into the pool, jumping in after him. Jie let himself be carried around in the water while Amir planted little kisses on his cheeks and lips. He whispered into Jie's ear, making him giggle periodically.

Brodie slipped into the shallow end, going to a corner of the pool. He sat with his back to the corner, his arms up on either side wall.

Apollo observed the scene from a chaise lounge as he sipped a lemonade, his eyes shielded by a pair of Ray-Bans.

"Where did those two come from?" Apollo had asked Omar earlier in the morning.

"They're two of the Lost Boys," Omar shrugged.


"You know. Peter Pan."

What Omar failed to explain was that the Lost Boys was a secretive group that pimped out underage boys. They picked up or lured homeless or vulnerable teens into their lair, got them under their control, and whored them out for the pleasure of both men and women. It beat cruising the streets. A text followed by a response with a few pictures and Amir's choices were made. $250 an hour or $2000 a day. For two boys, they cut Amir a deal, not that he needed one or even asked for one. $3750 a day. This was the second day.

He knew it was coming. It was inevitable.

After whispering something in Jie's ear as he looked at Apollo, Amir boosted him up on the pool deck. Grabbing a towel to wipe his face, he walked over to where Apollo was lounging.

"Get up."

Apollo sighed as he complied.


A look of revulsion on his face, Apollo loosened the tie on the front of his swimsuit, shrugged it off of his hips, and let it fall to his ankles. His limp member bounced out.

"Come here, Jie."

Dutifully, the boy sauntered over, his eyes averted even though he was well aware of the state Apollo was now in.

"You can take it in your hand," Amir said, a smile slowly forming on his face.

When Jie hesitated, Amir took his wrist, guiding his hand toward Apollo's cock. He softly pushed it until Jie wrapped his fingers around it.

Apollo groaned. He couldn't help it. Jie's touch was so soft, so sweet. He felt himself stiffening.

"Oh-h-h," Jie half whispered, half rasped as he glanced down.

"Lick," Amir ordered.

Jie dropped to his knees, his fingers still wrapped around Apollo's now thick, throbbing cock. Instead of taking it in his mouth, Jie turned his head to the side and licked underneath, his tongue flicking around Apollo's balls.

Amir smirked as he looked over at Brodie, still lazing in the corner of the pool. He beckoned him over with a curled finger. He obediently pulled himself out of the water and walked over. Amir looked down at Brodie's Speedos. A silent message. Brodie shrugged as he tugged them off.

Apollo glanced at Brodie's now exposed hips and his half hard pencil dick. Smooth and hairless. A switch turned on in Apollo's brain almost as if an unknown force had taken over. He thrust his hips forward as Jie swallowed his painfully hard cock.

Amir grabbed Brodie, boosting him up on a nearby table, pushing him back on his elbows and spreading his legs. Brodie's brownish pink butthole appeared as he forced his knees up to his chest.

"No," Apollo said almost in a whisper, shaking his head.

With a chuckle, Amir said firmly, "I say yes."

He pulled Apollo away from Jie, a pop coming from his mouth as Apollo's cock was pulled out of it. Grabbing his forearm, he led Apollo over to a now waiting Brodie.

Apollo shook his head. This couldn't be happening. But, he couldn't help himself. Amir pushed him forward, his cock now brushing against Brodie's asshole. The boy must have somehow been ready. Some pressure against Brodie's anus. Then, his cock just slipped in. Tight, for sure, but accepting.

"Ah-h-h-h." A soft rasp, first a pained look on his face, then a blank almost disconnected expression. He gazed up at Apollo.

Knees pulled back to his chest, his feet raised over his head. Apollo ran his hands along the smooth, slightly moist skin of the backs of Brodie's thighs. He began a rhythmic thrusting back and forth.

Somehow, he had the presence of mind to pull back just in time. Buckets of cum poured over Brodie's dick and stomach. The spasms continued for several seconds after which he shuddered, in relief, but mostly in disgust. Even though he was numb, his mind told him he'd reached rock bottom.

Amir set Jie to work on licking the jizz off of Brodie's stomach and genitals. The kid threw his hands and arms over his head as he turned his head to the side with a sigh.

Apollo turned and dove into the pool, quickly swimming to the other side. He boosted himself out and, without a glance behind him, walked dripping and naked into the house.

A long hot shower. Mad, nauseated, and forlorn. This was no life. He knew where he wanted to be, where there was a life to be had. The vague notion of an escape plan had been in his mind for months. It was now or never.

The next day.

Watching Apollo walk away from him, middle finger raised, Omar knew the situation would have to be addressed.

Later, he knocked on the door to Amir's bedroom. Entering, he found Amir lounging on the bed, a towel pulled across his lap. Jie sat with his back against the bed's headboard, completely naked. Brodie had been released, returned rather, to the Lost Boys earlier in the day.

"Boss, I think we need to talk about Apollo." A brief conversation followed.

"Do what you need to do. I'm not done with him." A pause. "Yet," Amir said firmly.

A few minutes later.

"We need to lock him into his room at night." Omar explained the situation.

Deng leaned back in his chair, arms folded.

"You're fucking kidding, right?"


A high squealed giggle following by a brutal shot with his fist, hitting Deng squarely in the solar plexus. He fell back, his head hitting the floor hard. He saw stars. Gasping for breath, he coughed uncontrollably.

"Get it done. By tomorrow."

Omar glared at Deng as he left the security shack.

He lay there for several minutes, staring up at the ceiling. Deng was still in the chair, his legs raised above him as he tried to clear his head and deal with the pain. As the world slowly came back into focus, he realized Omar had practically killed him. The combination of the blow to his head and having the wind knocked out of him made him feel like he was on the precipice between life and death.

One final cough and he rolled out of the chair onto his knees.

"Zugou de," He said out loud. Enough.

Two o'clock in the morning. The windows in his room were locked. Or, so they thought. Weeks ago, Apollo had jimmied the lock open on the corner window in preparation for this eventuality. And, now it was time.

Swinging his legs through the window, he dropped softly onto the slanted roof. Quickly making his way to the corner, he was able to slide down a standpipe running to the ground. Climbing some vines growing along the fence, he hoisted himself over. In less than a minute, he was out on the road.

Ducking against walls and behind trees to avoid being seen by the headlights of the few vehicles out at this hour, he half walked, half jogged until he reached a Ralph's Super Market. Open 24 hours. Trip to an ATM, purchase of a burner phone, Uber app downloaded, and by four, he was on his way to board a Greyhound bus at Union Station in LA.

Four days later.

Carey returned to his study table in the library after returning several books to the stacks. Notebooks and his laptop stacked neatly. Empty coffee cups and power bar wrappers dumped in a nearby garbage can.

The semester was over. Most students had left campus for the Christmas break three days earlier. Carey lagged behind, partly to finish up some loose ends, but mostly to put the finishing touches on his application to the RAND Corporation's summer associate program.

He smelled him before he saw him. Oatmeal. His breath caught in his throat. Carey jerked to his feet as he turned to find Apollo staring at him. They were both frozen in place for a moment. Not a word was said. Then, spontaneously, they threw themselves at each other. Bodies crushed together, arms and hands held tightly around each other, both gasping.

They held each other for a long time before Carey pulled away, tears in his eyes.

"You fuck!" He screamed. "Where have you been?"

"LA," Apollo replied, as he tried to catch his breath.

It took awhile to get Carey calmed down. First, sitting at the library table, later at a bar near campus, he recounted the months he'd been held captive as Amir's sex slave.

"Won't he come for you again?" Carey finally asked.

Apollo smirked.

"He's got other distractions now. I'm day old bread."

They held each other tightly as they lay together in Carey's narrow bed. Apollo stared off in the distance.

"This is it."

"Mmmm. What do you mean?" Carey was beginning to dose. He was emotionally exhausted.

"Forever. This is the way it's gonna be."

Carey nuzzled into Apollo's neck, drinking in his luscious smell.


At some point during the night, Carey opened his eyes. Standing next to the bed. Connor.

"How ya doin' little guy?"

Connor giggled, smiling through his crooked teeth and his cute dimple. He shook the hair out of his pale blue eyes.

"Are you ok?"

Connor just nodded.

"What about Randy and Scottie?"

Connor shrugged his shoulders.

"Am I going to be ok?"

Connor nodded. "Everything will be ok. In the end."

Then, he was gone.

The next morning. They had just finished throwing the last of Carey's stuff into the trunk of his car.

Apollo groaned as he turned around. "What's up, Omar?"

A moment earlier, he'd heard that high pitched squeal of a laugh. Besides the usual sneer on his face, this time Omar also held a gun in his hand. Carey stared, open mouth, a stunned look on his face.

"Strike three, you out."

"Whatever happened to strike two?" Apollo asked, a note of satire in his voice.

"The way I play game it's strike one, strike three, you out," Omar replied, the smile vanishing from his face. He used the gun barrel to motion for them to move across the street to a sedan parked on the other side. With his key fob, he popped the trunk.

"Let's take a ride."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Apollo blurted, his voice hitting a panic level.

"Get in," Omar pointed to the trunk.

Reluctantly, Carey and Apollo climbed in.

"Why don't you just do it now, fuck face," Apollo glared at Omar.

He shrugged. "Rental. Don't want to get the trunk messed up."

With that, he slammed the lid down on them.

They bumped along inside the trunk. Pitch black. Carey felt around for the inside trunk latch. When his fingers touched the spot where it was supposed to be, he found that it had been cut off.

"What's gonna happen?"

The air was getting clammy. Carey was feeling nauseous from the vibration and the car jerking as it turned left and right. He could barely make out Apollo's features.

"I dunno, but don't be scared."

Carey smirked. "Thanks for the comforting advice."

Eventually, the car rolled to a stop.

When Omar opened the trunk, the smell of sea air filled their noses. Climbing out, Carey looked up to see sea gulls squawking overhead. The car was parked in a barren parking lot. Beyond, an empty beach to the ocean crowned by gray skies. A cold, stiff wind whipped in their faces.

"Let's take a walk."

Omar, all serious now, pointed the gun toward the water.

"On your knees!" He commanded once they reached the edge of the beach. The sand was wet and cold. Low tide.

After a couple of more exchanges, the crack of the gun going off. A mist of blood rising in the sky. Like dust in the wind. Carey started hyperventilating. Then suddenly, a voice.


Wait a minute! That was Apollo's voice! Hands still behind his head, Carey turned. Near him, Apollo looked at a heavy set Chinese guy. He held a gun, his arm still outstretched, smoke curling out of the barrel.

Omar lay face down in the sand, the back of his head blown off.

"God! I hated that guy!" Deng exclaimed.

Both Carey and Apollo scampered to their feet. Carey held his hands up for a moment. Then glancing at Apollo, just standing there, he slowly lowered them to his sides.

"This doesn't change anything. Amir will still come after me."

Deng smirked.

"I think not."

Five days ago, after muttering that word, "enough," Deng put the wheels in motion. Accessing his super secret folder of some of the most salacious sex acts Amir had directed and participated in, he bundled them all into a zipped file.

The President of State Security for the Kingdom, Abdulaziz bin Mohammed Al-Howairni covered his eyes after watching the first few minutes of one of the videos. Deng had surreptitiously sent the folder to him.

"Mutaqazziz!" Disgusting!

A brief meeting with the General Directorate of Investigation followed after authentication of the videos was confirmed. Lashing? Beating and lashing? Death? Lashing, beating and death? So many options!

Returning from the lavatory where he put his finger down his throat to induce vomiting, Abdulaziz wiped his mouth, rinsed it with water, and directed his assistant to send the dispatch.

Thousands of miles away, Amir had just finished licking the tip of a delightfully warm and sweet tasting dick. It was attached to the slightly sweaty, aromatic body of a 15-year-old skater boy he'd picked up on The Strand in Hermosa Beach.

Hours earlier, he had been so enraged about Apollo's disappearance, he had practically lost all control.

"Find him and finish him!" He commanded Omar through gritted teeth.

After popping a couple of pills and washing it down with a gulp of Courvoisier, he mellowed out enough to charm the kid into a room at the Beach House. He resembled Apollo in all the right ways, from his long greasy blond hair to his pale hairless body and magnificent cock. Just as he was running his hand up the inside of the boy's smooth thigh to the base of his almost hairless balls, he heard a text come in.

Normally, he ignored messages. He was intrigued, though. Perhaps Omar had already tracked Apollo down. A mixture of anticipation and dread. He wanted Apollo dead but he was also going to miss him. Amir reached for his phone.

"Report to President of State Security for the Kingdom, Riyadh. Emirates #2375 tonight."

He sat up straight, immediately unable to control his breathing.

Carey thought he was going to be sick as he helped Apollo and Deng pull Omar's body into the surf. He'd never seen someone's head opened up like that, his brain looking like a bunch of twisted noodles. Riptides and whirlpools formed around Omar as the low tide sucked him out to sea. They stood there for awhile, knee deep in the water, watching the body slowly disappear.

After explaining to Apollo and Carey what he'd done and the likely outcome for Amir, Deng finished by saying, "Go. Have a nice life."

"I don't know what to say," Apollo said.

Carey was speechless. He just looked at Deng.

A humorless chuckle. Deng turned and walked away.

His fingers paused above the keys.

"I'm not sure how to end this," Carey said.

The second volume of his story was nearing completion. "The Pale Blue Sky," his first work of fiction, was already an internet sensation. Fiction or a memoir? Carey couldn't decide.

Life was so normal. Now. Eisenhower Professor of Political Science, an endowed chair. His beloved husband, an assistant professor of mathematics and quantum science. Tenure track.

After wrapping his arms around Carey's head and kissing him on the side of his face, Apollo flopped on the nearby sofa.

"Maybe it's not the end," he said.

The End

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