EROTIC NEUROTICS
By Len Richmond

(Hi gang. This is another excerpt from my just published paperback, “Naked in Paradise” (Sybaritic Press). It’s available from Amazon, Powell’s, Caligo, etc.)

Alone on New Year’s Day, I scan through a list on a long yellow legal pad. It carefully notes the names, ages, and sexual fantasies of all the men that left me L.A. Weekly voice mails.

The thirteenth on my list claims he’s “very curious, very hot, and very handsome”. A straight young actor who’s interested in acting out his “bottom fantasies” with another man.

My nervous new “bottom” shows up an hour late for our date (not unusual). He says his name is Jeff, but I doubt it. On the list of 44 names there are five "Jeffs", eight "Ricks", twelve "Johns", and thirteen “Marks”. Simple names, I suppose, so they can remember their aliases.

Jeff is so scared, he keeps staring down at his hands (or is it his crotch?) as we sit on the couch. Whenever we do have fleeting eye contact, he giggles nervously. As he peels off the label on his second bottle of beer, strip by strip, the metaphor of his movements are becoming abundantly clear. Without saying it he’s shouting, “My sexuality’s all bottled up and I can’t wait to peel my clothes off!”

He’s awful cute. Six foot two and eyes of blue. Muscular body and a sweet shy intelligence. I put him out of his misery (or more likely into it) after thirty minutes of strained conversation.

“You wanna play?” I say in the sexy deep voice I use for such occasions.

He looks up at me with his baby blues, pauses, puts down his ragged beer bottle, and nods. I leave to get the bedroom ready. Pull the drapes, put on the music, get out the poppers, and strategically place the condoms, latex gloves, and germicidal lubricant within easy reach. When I return, he’s gulping down his third beer from the six-pack he brought with him, looking slightly panic-stricken.

I know by now that the only way to deal with straight men’s inhibitions is to take charge right away. They need direction and don’t really want to be given a choice.

“Come here,” I demand in my deeper Daddy voice.

He gets up and I lead him by the hand into the semi-darkened bedroom.

“Stand here. Put your arms up,” I bark like a drill instructor.

I make him face the wall and blindfold him. I reach under his clothes and slowly tease his body with my fingertips. When I get down to his cock, it’s erect and strangely shaped. Long and large but twisting violently to the left.

I pull down his Calvin Kleins and feel his small ass, then slap it a couple times. He submits immediately. He likes being blindfolded. It’s less embarrassing than having eye contact.

I order him to, “Lie down on the bed on your stomach!”

He reaches out blindly, finds the bed, and fumbles into position.