Rentboy

go. But you’re paying me for the exercise as well. Add on another ten quid.”
    “Certainly.” Edward fell into step beside the young man. “What’s your name?”
    “Fox.”
    They emerged from the dark alley into the street. Nervous, Edward glanced sideways. In the
    light of the street lamps he saw a very thin, very pale young man with short black hair that was longer
    on top and spiked up. His clothing was all black. Around his eyes he wore thick black eyeliner. “Are
    you a Goth?”
    “What if I am?” Fox asked.
    Edward had often found groups of Goths on the street to look quite frightening, but he didn’t feel
    afraid of Fox despite his awareness that taking a complete stranger home for sex was probably not his
    wisest move. “Just asking.” They continued on in silence to Great Russell Street. Struggling for
    something to say when they neared his flat, Edward piped up, “Charles Dickens lived on this street,
    you know.”
    “No shit. Is he still here?”
    Confused, Edward looked at him. “Dickens died in 1870.”
    “I know. It was a joke.”
    “Yes, of course.” Edward opened the front door and led the way up the long, narrow, uncarpeted
    staircase to his flat. It was expensive despite being only a living room with a small bedroom, an even
    smaller kitchen, and a tiny bathroom that could accommodate only a shower, a toilet, and a sink
    crammed together so closely that he could shave while sitting on the loo. Edward flipped on the
    standing lamp beside the front door. “Would you like a cup of tea or perhaps something to eat? Ham
    sandwich?”
    The black-rimmed eyes were a startling blue. In the light from the lamp Edward noted again the
    young man’s slenderness, his thin face and straight, dark eyebrows. His hair appeared to be dyed.
    “I’m a vegan. A wank or a suck?” He glanced around the living room as he spoke. “It’s a bit
    messy, isn’t it? Don’t you ever tidy up?”
    Edward was not usually prone to a bad temper. In fact it took him ages to get annoyed with even
    the most annoying people he knew, but the remark seemed ill placed given that he had just picked the
    young man up in a filthy, foul-smelling alley. “You’re hardly one to talk. You live in a box.”
    Fox wandered about the flat, looking at things. “Yeah, well, I’m still getting my act together.”
    “What act? Do you perform?”
    Fox looked at him for half a second. “You are weird, mate.” Strolling over to the couch, he
    removed the latest copy of Science magazine, tossed it onto the cluttered coffee table, and sat down
    with his feet on top of the magazine. “Got any beer?”
    Edward hurried to the kitchen to grab two cans of Stella Artois from the fridge. Anything to
    avoid getting to the sex thing. He wanted the sex; he just didn’t know where to start. “Oh God, what
    am I going to do?” Turning abruptly with the beers, he bumped chests with Fox, who stood in the
    doorway of the minute kitchen. “Ahh! You scared the life out of me. I thought you were on the couch.”
    Fox took a can from his hand and popped the ring pull. “You are so weird.”
    “Yes, you keep saying that.” Edward followed him back to the living room, where the young man
    thumbed through the CD collection and put on, surprisingly, Handel’s Water Music . He sat down
    again, put his feet up on the coffee table, and looked at Edward.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Edward Jolyon Atherton. Is Fox your real name?”
    “Yeah.” Fox drained the can while Edward looked intently at the young man’s smooth white
    throat. For the first time since this dubious encounter started, he felt the stirrings of arousal. His willy
    began to lengthen, and a flutter of panic gripped his belly. I shouldn’t have done this. He could be a
    serial killer or a vampire or something. I don’t even know what I want.
    As if he had read his mind, Fox asked, “So what do you want?” He tossed the empty can onto the
    coffee table.
    “I don’t know,” Edward admitted.
    With a huge sigh the young man crossed his arms, leaned back, and closed his eyes. “Wake me
    up when you’ve decided.”
    For more than twenty minutes Edward sipped his beer as he watched Fox sleep. The poor thing
    must be exhausted. What did he do on rainy nights sleeping outdoors? It would be impossible to get
    any real rest. And he was so pale and thin. He couldn’t be very healthy.
    Suddenly a fear of STDs gripped Edward. It wasn’t so much getting one; there were