Turning Idolater Read Online Free PDF Page A

a doctor.”
    Philip broke loose. He smiled. His thirst was fierce
now. The wonderful fish taste was now somewhat gamey in his throat.
“Is there something to drink?”
    Sprakie rustled through Max’s paper bag. “How about
a Diet Coke?”
    “Perfect,” Philip said. “Won’t he miss it?”
    “He a dumb-ass newbie.”
    Philip took a swig. Delightful. “What ever happened
to that doctor and his dick of death?”
    “Please,” Sprakie said. “I still can’t sit down. It
was Doctor Brian McMoldau of the Gustave McMoldaus, East Hampton’s
finest. Well, I thought I told you this, sis. He was hung like a you-know-what , and rich as Margaret Truman, but he had one
flaw — a small flaw. He was as ugly as a goddamn monkey’s ass; and
although he made it worth my while, there definitely was no call
for me to be the permanent houseboy. So, when the doctor was in, my
eyes were shut so I wouldn’t start laughing. Giggles meant no
supper. No little spending money at Saks.”
    Philip released his backpack and sat on the bench.
“Did you meet him on-line?”
    Sprakie sat beside him after glancing at the watch.
“Never date them,” he said. “Be polite, get them in the One on One,
make fucking pen pals out of them and they’ll come back and spend
hundreds. Take your commission and run.”
    “They’re not all that bad.”
    “I forgot. You’ve made the rounds there. That
geezer. And what did he give you? The clap? No. A two-ton book with
no centerfold. Have you found the sugar daddy of your dreams
yet?”
    “No,” Philip said. “But some of them are interested
in more than a one-nighter. And he was a nice man. He didn’t make
me do anything but strip.”
    “That’s the problem, hon. Some of them are freaky
with the love and romance. And . . .” Suddenly, Sprakie’s eyebrows
raised. He sucked in his breath and got to his feet. “Oh, I know
who you’re thinking about.”
    “Tdye.”
    “Tdye. What kinda screen nickname is that? I can
live with Fuckmonger and Asspounder, but Tdye? What’s that, Tie
Dye, like they did to pants before we were born?”
    “I believe it’s Thomas,” Philip said. “He’s a
writer. He’s very gentle in One on One and generous.”
    “Jesus Marie, you’re pathetic.” Sprakie leaned in.
“Listen to me. I love you like my best set of luggage. Don’t fall
for that line. He’s probably an old Troll. Or he’s a 10-year-old
kid using his daddy’s sign-on. Worse yet, he’s a straight serial
killer.”
    “Are all serial killer’s straight?”
    “I wouldn’t know about that,” Sprakie snapped.
“Don’t change the subject.”
    “You’re just jealous because your tricks turn out to
be losers.”
    “They’re all losers,” Sprakie announced. He gazed
back at Kurt. “If you spend money for sex . . . c’mon hon. What
d’ya think?”
    Philip stood. He swept his hands down his sleek
body. “But look what they get!”
    “Remember, I’m Saks. You’re J C Penney’s.” He kissed
Philip’s forehead like a mother overseeing her chick out the door
to school. “The hour is upon you, oh Flaxen One.” He sighed. “I
worry about your romantic notions. It’s okay to make the cash. I
taught you well, but when you decide these dudes are worthy of more
than that, take care. Remember what happened to Jemmy.”
    Jemmy was a tragedy and the memory of the
pretty-faced, redheaded stripper sobered Philip. He suddenly saw
the little five-and-half footer scurrying in and out of Room 3.
Then, some bastard got him. Philip sighed.
    “Jemmy was into drugs, man. Out of control. He’d go
with anything that walked.”
    “Or crawled,” Sprakie said. “He’d fuck a knot hole
and worry about payment later.”
    “He didn’t deserve it.”
    “He didn’t take care.”
    Philip shook his head as if to cleanse away the
thought.
    “It’s work time.”
    “Call me later, sweetie.” Sprakie pointed to the
outlet. “Don’t let anyone walk away with my charger.”
    Philip’s mind drifted. He