Page 73 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
While working on Oscar, Svetlana pushes my underwear down and takes my flaccid penis into her hand. She strokes it. She can tell I’m cut. She reaches into her bra and pulls out a container of lube. She tears it open with her teeth and squeezes a bit of the gel onto her palm. She resumes stroking me.
Even though it’s pretty dark, I can make out enough of Svetlana jerking off Oscar and the ecstasy he’s feeling that I start to grow in Svetlana’s hand.
“Good boy,” she says to me.
In unison, she pumps her hands up and down, holding onto us firmly, jerking us off like a pro.
All of a sudden, I get what she means by “Olympic skiing.” She’s a metaphorical skier, and our cocks are the ski poles.
At one point, Oscar opens his eyes and turns his head towards me, as Svetlana continues to work her magic hands. Oscar and I lock eyes. I watch as he keeps running his tongue over his lips and breathing heavily. He does not blink. He does not lookaway. He just stares at me. And then: his mouth forms a faint smile.
And just as this strange eye contact is about to get unbearably intense, Oscar shuts his eyes again. I keep watching him and Svetlana.
Then, a gray-haired woman in a mask pokes her head into the office.
She says, “Svetlana, Alexander is looking for you.”
“I am in the middle of something,” says Svetlana.
“Now, Svetlana.“ The woman is insistent. “You must not keep Alexander waiting.”
“Sorry, boys,” says Svetlana.
She removes her hands from us and gets up. And just like that, she’s gone.
Not a second passes before I hear a voice coming from somewhere in front of me. The music is so loud, so I can barely make out the words, but I do hear: “Don’t worry, guys, I’ll take over for her.”
I turn my head towards the voice and realize that somebody has been standing in the corner this whole time, observing. A figure steps out of the shadows. When the person reaches the couch, I can see that it’s a guy, but I can’t make out any other characteristics.
The guy sits down where Svetlana just was. He reaches for Oscar’s dick and mine, but:
“What the fuck?!” Oscar yells.
The guy withdraws his hands and holds his palms up.
“Nah, bro, nah.” Oscar jumps up, pulls up his pants, and runs out of the room.
I start to get up too, but plop back down onto the couch.
“You okay?” the guy asks.
I immediately think about hownotokay I am. But then, by some miracle, the effects of the alcohol suddenly start to fade, and I am slammed with the realization of what the hell I’m supposed to be doing here at Perpetual Sunset. I should be investigating. I just witnessed a murder yesterday. I’m going to get framed for it. I have to get my head back in the game.
I stand up in a panic.
“What’s wrong?” the guy yells over the music.
I pull up my underwear and pants.
Two figures appear in the doorway. Because they’re standing in the hall, when the light pulses on, it catches their faces. It’s Twyla and Fatima.
They look at me and say,simultaneously, “Hey, Nash.”
At the exact same time, I, along with the guy on the couch, look at the two girls and say, “‘Sup?”
32
Crawl
