How I Came Up With the Characters in “Buy Guys”
A preferred locale for the moneyed retired, a vacation mecca for millions, and a prime international gay destination for both partying and living, sunny balmy Fort Lauderdale also attracts many young gay guys from Little Town, Nowhere, with no ambition or credentials, searching for a breezy lifestyle at some other guy’s expense.
So the protagonists of my new novella, “Buy Guys,” Blaze and Pete, two young, handsome drifters with nothing and nothing to lose, who leave dreary New Jersey to lead what they think will be easy lives as male prostitutes in sunny Fort Lauderdale, posting their profile on the fictitious male escort site, Buy Guys, are actually composites of many guys I met or bedded down with over the years. Pretty, often with a chip on their shoulder, but vapid, with no thought of the future, working at nowhere minimum wage jobs in between hustling some lonely gay man for a buck or drugs or both, or just “fucking around.” In fact, most of the sex my two guys experience as dicks for hire is based on experiences l had as a private citizen, shall we say, and as a Rentboy, which l played a month, to research my book. The retired dentist from Palm Springs, the naive Scottish tourist, and the Born Again gay boy who Blaze and Pete have as clients are guys I actually played with.
There are a number of other characters in “Buy Guys,” who play a more pivotal role in my story that are likewise drawn from real life, undiluted.
The Bimbo Boys, the two pall bearers Blaze knows from his funeral home job back in Jersey and who mysteriously reappear when my guys are down in Fort Lauderdale, are modeled after a pair of big, burly, furry partners who I met in Lauderdale while they were on vacation from Chicago. And like the Bimbo Boys, they were heavy fist fucking bottoms.
Then there’s Harry, the maître d' at La Bella’s, a restaurant/bar on Lauderdale’s gay strip (modelled after an actual place, Tropics) frequented by retired, often wealthy old men and their potential younger paramours. An effeminate version of the rotund comedian, Jackie Gleason, Harry was modeled after Charlie, my old boss at the department store I worked at part time while going to college. It was Charlie who, on my twenty first birthday, took this then naive kid from the burbs to the seedy (now gone) West Village and my first gay bar, the Stonewall, yes, the Stonewall, a year before it was it raided and the whole Gay Revolution was put into motion. I learned that night that Charlie had been a drag queen headliner at clubs in the City and Jersey back in the fifties.
It’s while at La Bella’s one night solo that Pete meets Mitch, the rugged, stocky, furry methhead paramour of Randall, a kingpin in the South Florida funeral home game, who pays Pete a thousand dollars to watch the two of them having sex. Mitch was actually a rugged, stocky, methhead buddy I met and bedded down with in Fort Lauderdale, who, though he held a CPA license, never practiced but instead led a checkered life as a sometime male escort, while cuddled by his wealthy West Palm Beach Jewish parents. A Tina addict/compulsive gambler, Mitch died when he fell asleep at the wheel of the compact car his parents had leased for him coming back from a drugfest weekend in the Keys.
John The Cop, a retired NYC detective now living the Good Life in Key West as a meth dealer and who has a brief but torrid affair with Pete is based on a cop named – yes, named John – who I knew from Pennsylvania’s Poconos where we both owned vacation homes. Tall, blond, handsome, affable John retired to Miami a few years after I left NYC for Fort Lauderdale, and we stayed in touch. Sadly, John died a few years after that when he was thrown off his motorcycle, his favorite mode of transportation, by a van making an illegal U turn, and his beloved bike was thrown up in the air and landed on him.
One of the clients Pete makes is wheelchair-bound Vinnie who is paralyzed in an auto accident in which his partner is killed and who is testing the waters with an impartial party like Pete to see if he can still have sex. Vinnie is a mirror image of a buddy, Danny, I befriended, again in PA, one summer who was paralyzed not due to an accident but the result of a rare spinal infection.
P.S.: Yea, a paralyzed guy can still have sex. Trust me.
I did say my characters are real, didn’t I?
Buy Guys by RP Andrews
Publish 16 December 2015 by Wilde City Press
25K ǀ heat: 5
Erotic Mystery/Suspense Romance Thriller/Crime
Pete, a young, gay handsome drifter, is convinced by his roommate Blaze to join him and leave dreary Jersey for sunny, sex-drenched Fort Lauderdale. Their mission is simple: make a free and easy living as male prostitutes on the escort site, Buy Guys. For a while things seem to go their way, but as Pete falls deeper in love with Blaze, he is drawn into a much more sinister scheme that eventually threatens to destroy them both.
It was just after seven in the morning when Pete got back to the house from his graveyard shift sweeping the factory floor at Brewers Screw and Fastener Company. After making himself a cup of coffee, Pete tiptoed into Blaze’s room and took a seat in the corner, quietly staring at his roommate asleep in all his naked glory, his smooth, melon butt jutting out from under the covers. Pete knew Bruno had been there tonight. The big brute was allergic to latex and the box of lamb skin condoms Blaze used when he fucked him was still on the bed stand.
It had been three months since Pete saw Blaze’s ad for a roommate - “masculine gay preferred” - on Craig’s List, and for Pete the timing couldn’t have been better. They hit it off over coffee at Starbucks, Blaze, the tall, slim, smooth, clean-shaven dirty blond, Pete, short, burly, bearded, dark and furry just about everywhere. Though they were both total tops, Pete felt an immediate attraction to his new surfer boy buddy and was happy when Blaze suggested that three-ways might be fun and set one up that same night with an old fuck buddy of his. Pete never let on the real fun for him was watching Blaze in action.
When he was sixteen, Pete’s crazy dad, who had beaten him up since he was a kid, suffocated his pill-popping mother with a Walmart plastic bag in a drunken rage and was now rotting for the rest of his life in Trenton State Prison. No foster home for him, Pete hitched rides with truckers he blew for food till he got to San Francisco where, grabbing a room off Harrison, South of Market, he worked the window at Blow Buddies, played bouncer at the Lone Star Saloon, was a sometime-escort to rich old fucks on the hills, and drifted in and out of a meth habit—twice. The last time he slammed was that weekend in Seattle. After what happened there, he stopped cold turkey and swore to himself that he would never touch the stuff again.
Then last August, out of the blue he heard from his father’s brother, twice-divorced Uncle Walt, who lived in Lyndhurst, New Jersey in a small clapboard house not far from where Pete had grown up. Seems Walt, a three-pack-a-day man, was dying of lung cancer and wanted Pete to come back and take care of him, wipe his ass, change his piss-stained sheets, and feed him like a baby, and for that, Pete would get the old man’s house, a fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance payout, and his 2004 Ford Bronco.
Only, after Walt kicked, Pete learned the house had a reverse mortgage on it and the bank owned it now, and the insurance policy was as real as his last trick on meth back in San Francisco.
At least the Bronco worked.
At Walt’s funeral, Pete ran into one of his old Garfield High chums, a security guard at Brewer’s who got him the job, and a week after that, just as he was being kicked out of his uncle’s house, along came Blaze’s ad.
Pete had been sitting in Blaze’s room for about twenty minutes when the dirty blond woke up. It was time to tell him the bad news.
“The fuckin’ rumor’s true.”
“Whatya mean?” said Blaze, turning over to show off his morning woody. Pete had seen it dozens of times before, but it was still, well, pretty. A nice seven inches, cut. Just like his.
“The rumor about Walmart buying up the factory to build a supercenter. They posted the notice at the time clock. The place is shutting up the end of the month, which means Friday.”
Blaze rolled out of bed and walked over to the bathroom a few yards away to take his overdue piss. “Well, then, it’s time,” he yelled as he relieved himself, “I mean, that is, if you wanna come with me.”
“Come with you where?” said Pete, still sitting in the corner of Blaze’s room.
Blaze walked back in. “To warm, sunny Lauderdale where we can play whores for hire.” He grabbed his silver and gold ID bracelet with his initials, BET for Blaze Eliot Talbot, from on top of his dresser and put it on his left wrist. “The place is loaded with lonely old retired gay guys with dough who’ll just eat us up.”
“You’re— You’re nuts—no, delusional,” said Pete, thinking this was all a joke.
“Hey, I checked it out on the web,” replied Blaze, scratching his pubes. “There’s even a site and a phone app called Buy Guys where we can sell what we got.”
“But, I—I don’t know…”
“You told me you fucked guys for money back in SF, didn’t you?”
“And I had a guy keep me in Manhattan for almost five years.”
“Till you said he kicked you out on the street for some younger blond bimbo.”
“His fuckin’ loss. Hope the shits get AIDS,” said Blaze, grabbing his Samsung from the bed stand.
“So we were both pay boys, so?”
“So, we both know nothing makes the cock harder than a stack of twenties on the bureau. Or keys to his Lexus.”
Then he moved in closer and stared at Pete, straight on.
“Listen, I was meaning to talk to you about this for a while, but now your little setback is the kick in the ass we both need to make it happen. You think I wanna keep fuckin’ Lardass forever just to save a few bucks on the rent?”
After Sydney kicked Blaze out of his Upper West Side condo, Blaze, who grew up in Totowa, decided to come back to his roots and grabbed a job as a driver and catch-all man for Bruno and his Forest Rest Funeral Home in upscale Fair Lawn. Married with three kids, Bruno took a liking to his dirty blond assistant, gave him a place to live in the lower apartment of the two-family house in Garfield he inherited from his mother, and took half off the rent if Blaze would fuck his fat, furry ass whenever Bruno felt like it.
“Let me show you what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about,” said Blaze, pulling up the Buy Guys app on his phone and handing it over to Pete, who began flipping through profile after profile of the young, hung, and beautiful.
“And we’re gonna compete against all these pretty boys?” said Pete, laughing.
“Take your fuckin’ clothes off and come over here,” instructed Blaze with a dare in his voice as he walked over to his dresser with the large mirror. Blaze was two years younger than Pete, twenty-five versus twenty-seven, but Pete felt he was always the one who needed somebody to show him the way. Right then, that somebody was Blaze.
“Now, did you ever see two hotter dudes in your life?” laughed Blaze. Both their dicks were getting hard.
Pete smirked back at the two of them in the mirror.
“And we got a gimmick the rest of those little boys ain’t got,” said Blaze. “We can bill ourselves as a team. The dynamic duo!”
RP Andrews spent most of his life in New York City as a public relations executive before relocating to Fort Lauderdale in 2002, where he enjoyed a brief second career teaching writing at a local university.
All his works of erotic gay fiction and non-fiction are available at amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com and selected publisher websites.
His first work of erotic gay fiction, a collection of edgy short stories called Basic Butch, was originally published by San Francisco-based GLBT Publishers in 2008. Basic Butch features characters who go down life paths that, in the end, they wish they had never explored.
His latest works of serious gay fiction include:
The Czar of Wilton Drive, the story of Jonathan Antonucci, a twenty-one-year- old, barely-out-the-closet gay man from suburban New York who overnight finds himself a multimillionaire, thanks to a bequest by his late gay uncle. Uncle Charlie has unexpectedly died of a heart attack, leaving him the sole owner of several of the most successful bars in Wilton Manors, Fort Lauderdale’s gay ghetto, making Jonathan the Czar of Wilton Drive.
Flying down to Lauderdale to claim his bequest, Jon encounters Uncle Charlie’s dubious friends and business associates, and is immediately submerged in Lauderdale’s scene of unbridled sex and heavy drugs. He also discovers his great uncle’s memoirs which reveal truths not only about Jon’s own past but also what may have really happened to his uncle. In the end, Jon is torn between avenging Uncle Charlie’s death or loving the man responsible for it. From Kokoro Press.
Not In it For The Love, set at the turn of the new millennium. Josh, a young street-smart Florida drifter is snatched from his dead-end existence as a male hustler in a cheap Key Largo motel by Bishop, a Wall Street power broker who sets him up as his trophy boy in Manhattan society.
There, Josh, after leading a promiscuous lifestyle within New York City’s gay sub-culture, meets Hylan, a young, bi-racial, down-on-his luck, wheelchair-bound musician who awakens in Josh what love can be between two men. But their chance at happiness and the lives of those around them are forever changed by 9/11. From Totally Bound Press.
Buy Guys, his latest novella published by Wilde City Press, is the story of Blaze and Pete, two young, handsome drifters with nothing and nothing to lose. Blaze convinces Pete, who is falling in love with him, to leave dreary New Jersey and lead free and easy lives as male prostitutes in sunny Fort Lauderdale, posting their profile on the male escort site, Buy Guys. Blaze, however, soon pulls Pete into a much larger, more dangerous scheme, a scheme that eventually threatens to destroy them both.
RP Andrews’ daily social commentary blog on gay life in America has been running since 2010 at str8gayconfessions.com, and a second edition collection of these commentaries is available as an e-book on amazon.com. Confessions of a Str8Gay Man is RP Andrews’ unvarnished, unorthodox views of Modern Gay America which are often counter to today’s political correct gay media.
In addition, there is Furry Man’s Journal, his erotic memoirs as a hirsute gay man as told through his experiences with the dozen iconic men in his life.
For more info, visit rpandrewsgayfiction.com on your laptop; or gay-erotic-fiction.com on your tablet or smartphone.
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