Dangerous by Default

13. The attack

Joseph carefully dragged the unconscious man halfway down the hallway when he stopped suddenly, dropping the heavy torso. A streak of black filth tracked a line on the white carpet. What in the hell? Ugh. That's when he noticed for the first time the hem of Caine's desert pants. They were encrusted with a muddy liquid, as if he had gone tap dancing in a sewer. He quickly unfastened Caine's pants, shimmied them off, and dropped them in a pile on the tile bathroom floor. Along the way, he made sure to add carpet cleaning to the maid service scheduled for the next day. He stared at the pants for a moment, then back at Caine, then down at his own gloves.

You need a bath Mister! he thought to himself in a British accent for no particular reason. He made his voice higher, speaking out loud this time. "Why yes, a bath would be most pleasant. Extra bubbly!" After filling the bath, he found Caine's phone where he had stashed it in his dresser and plugged it in to charge. "We'll learn more about you soon enough, Mr.!"

He approached Caine's unconscious body where he lay in the hall, whistling this time. Joseph began unfastening the rest of the clothes, scratching his forehead with the inside of his ungloved wrist to avoid getting the grime on his face.

"Oh dear, how silly of me! I've forgotten to draw sir's bath." Interrupted his handiwork, and he pranced to the bathroom. Cranking the music up along the way, Joseph shook his hips out of rhythm to the slow Filipino ballad that had started playing while he stripped himself naked. He finished removing Caine's clothes, looked back at the tub, then to Caine, and decided the first round he'd prefer to keep things dirty. He dragged him up onto the bed.

"You have got a story to tell, don't you!" Joseph squealed as he pinched Caine's bare butt. His eyes danced along the wild array of scars that decorated his body head to toe. Joseph's voice now took on a Southern twang. "Lion tamer? Tame me."

It was a muscular body, not toned per se - this man was no gym rat - but he was someone who used his hands, and his muscles, for rigorous physical labor. More than you'd expect just from making furniture. Construction worker? Joseph thought. A rapid succession of noises told him that Caine's phone had come back to life, and someone had sent him a stream of text messages. Somebody wants to know where are! I'll bet it's that slut from the club. Or... Do you have a secret, perhaps?

Joseph held the phone to Caine's face to unlock it, then realized he didn't need to. I don't lock my phone either, hun. My life is an open book. Well. Sort of.

Staring at Caine's open phone, he screamed out loud. There were only three applications on the whole thing: Text, Photos, and Internet, all nested in the dock. His minimalist architect spirit was shook.

Joseph perused the photos first. There was a picture of the man standing with a beautiful woman - the wifey, daaayuuum. Somehow Joseph liked it better when the straight guys had attractive partners. Something about his wife looked familiar to him, like a celebrity in a candid photo. Raven hair with a pink scarf tied around her neck, flapping in the wind on the deck of a sailboat. Photo after photo of sailing. Ok y'all elite pieces of shit. White privilege much? A few photos of chairs in a woodshop. A guy with a huge beard in overalls. Are you some kind of creepy redneck?

The text messages were more interesting, all from someone called Bubba June.

'Where are you'

'Bubba!'

'This is getting old'

'I'm surrounded by beautiful, shirtless men.'

'Think one of them will help me home?'

You've got some 'splainin to do, friend! Joseph giggled, aroused by the power. He was the one in control, for once, so why not stir up a little drama along the way? Dinner and a show. Joseph sat on top of Caine's butt, feeling his erection draped across the small of the man's back. I'm not that small, but thank goodness I'm not enormous or I dare say I'd never be able to pull this off.

As he jumped up to fetch the camera stand, he thought about the woman with the pink scarf and the sad apology Caine would have to give her in the morning. It was the one aspect that fascinated Joseph the most. This guy would wake up swaddled on Joseph's couch, assume he'd gotten too drunk, and apologize for passing out. His phone would be all charged by then. Last week, a guy even came back again that afternoon with his girlfriend.

Joseph lowered his voice in the best straight dude impersonation he could muster. "Honey, this is where I passed out last night. Dude, uh, can you tell my girlfriend what happened? She thinks I was with a chick." Joseph writhed with laughter.

He couldn't help but scroll through his own phone, back to the video of last weeks conquest. The audio was muffled, the sound of Joseph quiet panting, slapping his hips against the man's bare body. He looked up from what he was doing to stare into the camera, to himself, and now he was staring back. He was in awe of himself. The two Josephs winked at each other. He could have any straight guy he wanted. All he had to do was smoke a cigarette outside the Black Cat and wait for them. Somebody would be drunk, need to charge a phone, and they would fall right into his trap.

Joseph suddenly remembered the tub once more. He turned back to the hallway from his bedroom and paused.

He screamed and dropped his phone. "W-who the fuck are you?" His voice shook.

A tall woman stood up from his leather sofa. Her face was obscured by the wide brim of a gray felt hat, long locks of pink hair flowing down on either side of her face. Her black latex bodysuit glared under the soft light of his living room. She held in her gloved hand a small pistol. Something was strange about it, as if it was made with a 3D printer. Joseph couldn't form complete thoughts.

"Hi Joseph," She aimed her barrel. "I'm his wife."