A Clean Up Man Read online

  “Hey, Kraig!” A white male Lowe’s employee waved as I walked out of the bathroom on to the store’s main floor. I felt like the fat guy, Norm, on the television show Cheers, because everybody in here knew my name. I grabbed a cart and moved toward the aisles that I needed to visit.

  I had to replace some of my tools. Now was as good a time as any. I loved my job and I loved fixing up houses. I hated losing my tools, though. Thank goodness that didn’t happen that often. I usually got it in with dudes whose wives were out of town or something like that. Today was the biggest risk I had taken in a long time. It was worth it for sure. I loved the rush, the dick, and the money, but the thrill was almost as good as getting a good nut, which I didn’t get this time around. It was just like crackheads after they get high the first time; they are constantly on the journey to find a high just like the first one.

  I walked down the aisles, picking up tools that I knew I left behind. I felt my phone vibrating. I picked it up and looked at it. It was an unknown number. I picked it up because it could have been a job opportunity. I listed my cell phone under my ad in the paper and on the Internet so that I wouldn’t miss any jobs. I loved money, too.

  “Hello, Kraig speaking.” I had to put on my professional voice. I could be ghetto at times.

  “Um . . . Ah . . . Ah.” I heard a female voice stutter and pause.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, confused by the silence.

  “I . . . I . . . I’m sorry. I thought this was a woman’s number. I was going through my husband, Howard’s, phone. He’s been sneaky lately and I thought he was cheating on me. I was wrong. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

  Howard was cheating. You just got the gender mixed up. “No problem. I am a private contractor. I probably did some work on your house or something like that.” I didn’t recognize her voice and she didn’t recognize mine, and her husband’s name I didn’t really care to remember, until now, even though the dick probably was good. It was a one-time thing. She was probably out of town when I worked on her house.

  “Ohhhhh.” She sounded like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. She even chuckled a little. “I am such a fool. I was out of town visiting my sister for two weeks and came home to a newly done kitchen. By the way, you did a fabulous job.”

  “Thank you.” I beamed with pride. “Your husband wanted to surprise you for your birthday.” He gave me a present as well.

  “It’s a lovely gift indeed and I’m so sorry for wasting your time, sir. Have a great day and I will be sure to recommend you to some of my friends.”

  “Thank you.” I closed my Nextel and breathed a sigh of guilt. And little did she know I was sexing her husband, who I now knew as Howard.

  Howard was a nerdy-looking white guy with a fetish for dark meat. He wasn’t much to look at in the face but he had a short but thick dick with freckles that was the width of a soda can. He tried to split my ass in half. I had to call him and let him know that his wife called me and also let him know that one sexual encounter was enough.

  I know what you are saying: why have sex with a married man? As I said before, most of the time these men would approach me about sex. I rarely propositioned a married man in his house. He had to make the first move. I value my life, highly. That was why I carried condoms in a secret compartment in my toolbox. Which reminded me I needed to make my way over to Wal-Mart to replace the ones I’d just left behind.

  I grabbed all of my replacement tools, paid for them, and made my way home. I was exhausted and needed to shower and crawl into bed.

  After I got out of the shower I thought about the fact that I could get in trouble with the Better Business Bureau after what happened at the house in Catonsville today.

  “Nah, she’s not going to call anyone.” I laughed as I spoke to myself. “What’s she going to say, ‘I just caught my husband doing the guy who was fixing my house’?” I rolled over and rested easy.

  Chapter 2

  Mr. Soda Pop

  I was awakened by someone in my room opening the curtains and letting the morning sunlight into my room.

  “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” The smile across my best friend’s face greeted me as I tussled with my pillows and peeked a single eye at him. He was known for these types of stunts. For a brief second, I thought about taking the key back that I gave him when I first moved in. But that was just a thought. He was my best friend and I loved every part of him. He lived at home with him mom, but he spent time at my house from time to time as well.

  Whoever heard of a gay man with a straight best friend? It was a first for me. He and my momma and his momma were the only ones who really knew I was gay. Carlos was a full-blooded Puerto Rican. Born in Puerto Rico, but moved to Baltimore and raised in the hood. I shook my head at the thought of his momma living in and raising a Puerto Rican kid in an all-black neighborhood. He swore he was black now. He hadn’t gotten the memo that he wasn’t. He had the act down, though. We were the same age, twenty-nine. He was fair skinned while I had a toasted-caramel tone. I had deep brown eyes and thick eyebrows.

  Carlos’s hair was short and curly and he still had a small accent left in his voice, mostly from being around his mom.

  He had no problems being my friend from the day we met in elementary school. He was one of the first people I came out to in college.

  “I’m . . . I’m . . . gay,” I yelled out as we were running around the track in college one day in our junior year. We were both on the track and field team. It was just us two out on the track that sunny but breezy day and I figured that it was now or never. I had to let someone know. It was getting to be a chore keeping it to myself. We had talked about just about anything with each other.

  “What?” He stopped suddenly. I did the same. He rested, bent over, with his hands on his knees. “I don’t understand.”

  “I like guys. I like men.” I stood with my arms on my hips, breathing hard as I looked at him intensely. He just looked at me back. I was waiting for him to say something or just walk away from me.

  “Okay.” He stood up and smiled.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. That was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in my life.

  “Really?” I asked, still unsure if he was getting ready to turn on me or punch me. It was unexpected for him to just say “okay.” “You heard what I said, right?”

  “I heard you, Kraig.” He walked over to the fence where we had our towels and bottled water, took a swig of water, and wiped the sweat off of his brow. “I don’t care what you do with men. You’re my best friend and I stand by that. Just don’t try any shit with me. I do punany only.” He laughed.

  “Okay.” I smiled. “I promise.”

  “Good.” He stretched a little. “Oh, and one more thing. Don’t ever, ever, ever, ever talk to me about what you do or who you did. I don’t need any visuals, okay?”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  That was the first and only time we had to discuss it. He never once treated me differently.

  “Don’t you have to deliver some soda or something?” I groaned as I sat up in my bed and adjusted my eyes to the sunlight that seemed to be pointing only in my direction.

  “I’m off today, punk.” He smirked as he grabbed the remote to my television and sat on my bed, flipping through channels. There were days I wished I wouldn’t have given him a key to my place. But then I knew he was the only one I could trust with it.

  “I keep telling you not to just pop up. You could have walked in on me and a dude getting it on on my living room floor and it would have forever been burned into your memory.”

  He just shook his head and he continued to look at television.

  “Or me sticking my dick in a dude at full force. I’m telling you it would have been a sight to see.” I laughed, knowing it was making him cringe on the inside.

  “Dude . . . Dude . . . Dude!” was all he could say while shaking his head vigorously.

  I got up out of the bed and made my way to the bathr
oom to clean myself up. Beyoncé was shaking her ass on the screen as I walked past. I was sure Carlos was trying to burn the images of what I just said from his brain by watching her every move. I loved my best friend, I really did.

  “What are we doing today?” I yelled from the bathroom as I turned on the shower.

  “Don’t know, but it’s your turn to decide.” On a regular basis we both went out and had a day together, just us two men. We did everything that most men did together: go-cart racing, paintball fights, dirt bikes, pool, you name it we did it. Most people thought that at twenty-nine years old we should have been doing more adult things, but we both made a pact to be young at heart for as long as possible. We both worked hard and played even harder. In the hood, we both had seen some very gruesome deaths in our lives: drive-bys and robberies and a few stabbings. We knew that tomorrow was not promised, so why not get it in when we could?

  I got in the shower and thought about the possibilities. Fifteen minutes later, I was out of the shower and walking into my room with a towel wrapped around my waist. I went straight to the dresser to get a pair of boxer briefs to put on. After grabbing a pair I grabbed the cocoa butter lotion off of my dresser and sat on the side of my bed. Carlos was still sitting at the edge of the bed watching television.

  “Hey, we can probably try that new rock climbing place they opened up in Towson.” I was putting lotion on my body as I talked.

  “Sure, sounds like fun,” he said without looking my way. He was watching the Beyoncé tour special. She was really going at it as I glanced at the television and continued to put my underwear on. I put on my deodorant and threw on a V-neck T-shirt. I pulled on some cargo pants and a Ralph Lauren polo. I finished myself off by spraying myself with UR cologne by Usher.

  “I’m ready,” I called out to Carlos, who was intensely watching Beyoncé. I had to admit she had an effect on men, just not on me. Finally, I had to walk over in front of him to get his attention. “I’m ready.”

  “Oh . . . Okay.” He grabbed the remote and flicked the television off.

  We walked out of the house and jumped into his green Range Rover.

  Driving down the highway in Carlos’s jeep I was somewhere else. Far off in my past. Carlos was talking and I was nodding but my mind was in my past. Where I had been, what I had been through, and where I thought I was headed. None of which I could really talk about with anyone. I had done some things in my past, some things that I dared not talk about: sex in cars, sex in professors’ offices, sex in car garages, a threesome, and more. A lot of it with married men. Yes, I loved it. The thrill . . . the thrill . . . the thrill of it all. The dangerous and life-threatening positions I had placed myself in all in the name of almost getting caught.

  I stared out of the window at the cars next to me and wondered what married man would be next. Whose husband would be fucked or fuck me next? It was one of the burning questions in my mind. I had more . . . How would I die? Would it be by the hands of an unexpected wife with no reason to care about the pain of my family, but only of her own anguish and pain?

  A gun, a knife, an ice pick, a hammer would all do the trick. The chances I took for a moment of gratification weren’t without a price and one day I may have to pay with the ultimate price . . . my life. But as of right now I was going to take my chances and enjoy my life . . . yes, my life. I was getting my life and loved it.

  “You okay?” Carlos tapped me on the leg.

  “Yeah, man.” I smiled as I turned to him. “I’m great.”

  “Do you agree with what I just said?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do.” I now was turned back to the window, giving the scenery my undivided attention once again.

  “Well what the last thing I said?”

  “Said,” I answered and then laughed.

  “You are such a smart ass.” He laughed back at me.

  “I know this.” My head was still turned toward the window.

  “What’s so interesting out of that window that you are so engrossed in?” Carlos asked.

  “Nothing, just people in their cars.” That was the truth. There were people in cars. I did leave out a fact or two, though.

  There was a guy in the car next to us who was bold as a muthafucka and he was married. I could tell by the ring on his hand as he jerked his hard dick in the car next to us. He was dark chocolate and bald with a goatee from the top of his jaw down to his square chin. Ump . . . Ump . . . Ump . . . Yes, he was getting it in and I was all eyes. He was my scenery . . . the scenery. He had been driving next to us on 695 for a couple of minutes, feverishly jerking his dick and driving. This dude was excellent at concentrating on two things at once. Driving and jerking off at the same time was a true skill, a skill that many people did not have. He was a risk taker and I loved it. I knew he was doing at least seventy miles per hour because Carlos was a speed demon and keeping up with him was a task. Carlos had started talking again, but my mind was nowhere in the car. Actually, I was in the passenger seat of the other car, a black BMW, helping the stranger deflate his piece of hard, throbbing meat. He had his seat reclined a little and he was stroking it oh so right. My dick was pressing against my stomach trying to break free like The Incredible Hulk.

  He looked over at me quickly, smiled, and then winked. I squirmed in my seat because I was getting hot and bothered.

  “Damn,” I moaned softly. If Carlos noticed, at that moment I didn’t care. My hot breath fogged up the window a little and I almost licked it when he bit his bottom lip. I could tell that he was about to bust. A few seconds later, he did, all over his hand. He continued to drive alongside us for a few more miles and then he exited the highway, going toward his unknown destination. If I had been in the car without Carlos I would have bust with him but that was not the case.

  Now that my entertainment was gone, I focused my attention back to Carlos.

  “Man, I can’t wait to get to where we are going,” I told Carlos.

  “I know, right, I need to work off some sure enough tension.”

  “Me too,” I agreed. Most of my tension was in my balls and I needed to unload it. I just needed a willing participant. Maybe I will run into someone where we are going. Maybe. A brother can dream, can’t he? I laughed to myself as we continued down the highway.

  Chapter 3

  Measuring Up

  We walked into the simulated mountain climbing facility, both excited and ready to have some fun. I was looking forward to having a good time and just enjoying my day and maybe finding my next conquest. The place was filled with women and kids, but most of all a few good men, getting their climb on. I admired a few bulges as we both walked in, paid our fee, and signed a waiver stating that we could not sue if we got injured. Even though you were harnessed most of the time, accidents did occur. They had several different levels of climbing in the facility. Carlos and I decided to go to the medium risk section, since we were from the hood. Climbing in and out of vacant buildings and things like that were a part of our everyday life as children. In the hood you had to build your own fun and hope you didn’t die in the process.

  A nice-looking Hispanic man came over and handed us our harnesses and offered to help us get into them. Shit, I almost let him do it just to see if he would feel me up in the process, but I declined in the presence of Carlos.

  “You ready for this?” Carlos spoke as the attendant walked away from us.

  “Man, watch my dust.” I laughed and walked toward the wall. He was on the other side of me now. He was geared up and ready to go. It was always a competition between us. But it was always friendly nonetheless. “First one to the top pays for food.”

  “On your mark, get set . . . go,” he called out. We were both still young and fast so it didn’t take us long to get to the top. He beat me by a few seconds.

  “All right, let’s go over to the real challenge and try it.” I smiled as we climbed back down to the bottom.

  “Cool, but you just setting yourself up for another shameful defeat.
” He laughed heartily as we both got to the bottom.

  “We’ll just have to see about that,” I countered.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He laughed cockily. “I can taste the free meal now.” He patted his stomach as we walked over to the advanced section of the facility.

  I looked up at the tall and extremely rugged terrain and rubbed my hand through my hair. This was indeed going to be a challenge. I had to admit that Carlos had me beat when it came to these types of things. We were both in shape but he was more athletic than me. Damn that shit look tough.

  “You ready?” He looked at me and then up like he was sure of his victory.

  “May the best man . . .” I started climbing before I could get the rest of my sentence out. I wasn’t a good loser, so this time I resorted to cheating. I had a good head start, but that didn’t last. Minutes later, I was watching him a few feet ahead of me and then he made it to the top. It took me a couple more minutes than it should have, but I took longer just to prolong the smug look I was going to see on his face when I got to the top.

  “Whef!” I breathed out as I climbed to the top. His ass had the nerve to stick his arm out to help me up once I finally got to the top. I wanted to punch him in the gut just because. I decided against it because I knew better. Some things he was good at and others I was good at. We evened out each other’s differences. I was more technical and he was more physical.

  “IHOP or Denny’s?”

  “Huh?” I was still laboring to get my breath. I played dumb. I knew what he meant. I just stared at him for a second, trying to get myself together. I was ashamed of myself. I was getting lazy. But, he looked like he could do it again with ease. He was a gym guy. I worked out at home when I could and my workload kept me as fit as I needed to be. He would ask me to go to the gym with him. But then I would have to explain to him why I couldn’t go and I promised never to discuss or talk about my conquests. Let’s just say I had done a few men who worked in or worked out at his gym. I didn’t want to subject him to anyone getting the wrong idea about him while he was with me.