By Maiyeko Singi

When it was over Juan swallowed as though it were a silky desert, said thank you several times, licked his lips and shuffled off. Christoff stood with his dick pocking out his fly, a mosquito bit his arm, another sang in his ear and he swatted at the sting in the dark. The next day he'd be covered in little red bumps, already there had been a slight itch here then minor irritation there. It was the same on his neck and butt crack. His cock marinated in a mixture of secretions and juices. With two fingers he gingerly tucked himself to the right trying not to think of the wetness absorbed by his briefs. Walking back to the common area had felt like being on parade, everyone must have known what transpired. He was moving toward someone who hurried along followed by another man who averted his eyes when they passed. "Busy night."

Monday morning Chris got up and went to three locations where he knew day laborers to be picked up. After he didn't find anything he extended his search on Tuesday and found the van parked near a stretch of side street by a lumberyard. Silvio waited with a group of about twelve men around 7:00 am. Chris saw him selected along with three others who piled on the back of a large flatbed. He'd recognized the distinct swagger and the stance immediately. A body didn't easily forget the rough way in which Silvio's cock had found its way in. There had been several dreams too, they'd almost made him come in his sleep, in one they lay on opposite sides of a floating mattress, legs straight, arms out, like the crucifixion. Chris bit his bottom lip at the thought of deeper meanings. It would become a habit.

Wednesday was more of the same. Over the next couple of weeks Christoff had taken to driving his father's car, parking on one corner or another and watching. It had become routine. The sitting, the looking, contemplating, touching himself, on the second Thursday he followed the van to an area known as the Barrio. Silvio hadn't been picked up for work and left after missing the seventh driver. The van pulled to the front of a duplex where kids played on the sidewalk. Silvio stopped and said something to one of them before going inside. At 9:45 a couple of children left the apartment with backpacks walking past the boys that had been playing without acknowledgment. One of the boys tossed something at the smallest girl who turned up her nose and laughed. A green Chevy pickup turned a block over, it circled twice as though looking for an address then barreled south on Church Street. The children ran in the opposite direction giggling before disappearing into the house.

Chris slid a little lower in the seat with his hands sweating and frozen to the wheel. It wasn't safe to be parked in the neighborhood. People were paranoid and kept an eye out. He knew they wouldn't call the police because many were illegals but they might talk. Someone would notice a strange car with a high yellow Black man sitting inside. Maybe he could have passed for Mexican had it not been for his distinctive mop of sandy colored hair. "I shouldn't have come,” he moaned but his heart raced with the same desire every time he thought of that night. He let his mind invent a future that wouldn't come to fruition, a future that he