Tattooed and pierced muscle man Jess Gordon has a good thing going for him on the Richmond road east of Farmville, Virginia.
Jess is converting an old motel into Stallion Station, a male-male brothel flanked by a gym to entice the customers and a video recording studio to entertain the masses. As the story progresses, Gordon accumulates his stable of young rent-boys: Dino, the carpenter building the set for the video studio; Gordon’s first recruit, a video store clerk, Matt, and his friends, Jason and the more experienced Griff; Joey, brought to Gordon from court by the protectors of Gordon’s operation, and Rick, a Frisbee player being hidden away by his high school teacher lover.
Gordon seems to have his stuff together—a growing stable, official protectors with secrets and desires and fetishes of their own, and a humongous Stallion Station sign going up that can be viewed from the highway.
But Gordon pushes the envelope on services, accepting a proposal by a German industrialist to cater to a set of fantasy first-time, filmed sexual encounters. And life starts getting very dicey for Gordon and his operation when Trebel and his randy giant Algerian bodyguard, Jordo, arrive at Stallion Station.
The old dump of a motel that was here nine months ago has been transformed into something pretty nifty, the young carpenter, Constantine—known by everyone but his mother as Dino—thought as he left the movie studio he’d just put the finishing touches on and strode across the line of refurbished motel rooms toward the men’s gym at the other end. The only problem was that the town didn’t really need another girlie whorehouse, he went on to muse. It could use something that a guy like me could go to to shack up with other guys, but I don’t see that happening.
He wasn’t a bit fooled by what he’d just finished helping to install in a newly constructed building at one end of the line of kitchenette motel units. Some of those were already occupied—ones on the line on the back side of the building—but he guessed the guys in there would be pitched out when the women were brought in. What he’d just worked on—a studio with black walls, floor, and ceiling and with a royal-blue velvet-covered platform in the center, with a vinyl top and all sorts of camera stands surrounding it and other camera boxes mounted on the walls obviously was a setup for porn films. And some BDSM films too, considering the restraints he’d had to build in tucked away here and there around the platform base and tucked into boxes in the ceiling over the platform, not to mention the paraphernalia that hung on one of the walls.
Dino knew about BDSM. He had found his way to Buckingham, where a male-male BDSM club met.
That was a new wrinkle on whore houses, though, in Dino’s experience—the BDSM element. Altogether a slick operation if this Gordon guy could keep it open. The gym, where Dino was headed, was a nice touch. . . . Dino had been using the gym himself for several months—it was the first part of the complex in operation—and maybe he would continue to do so, because there were some really good beefed-up men using it, starting with that Jess Gordon, the owner of this place, with his body jewelry and all-over tattoo. But when the girls got put in, he’d have to reassess his interest. Maybe not, though, if Jess kept working out in the gym. He had a body and a half; Dino wouldn’t mind being taken a couple of rounds by Jess—a great body and a great cock too. Dino had seen him in the showers. And a thick cock ring. Dino had never been done by a guy with a cock ring before. This just wasn’t a town that catered to guys who liked guys, and especially in a rough way. For that Dino had to go to Buckingham.
But Dino liked it in a rough way, and he had actually signaled his interest to Gordon—several times—but had come up flat. He’s opening a girlie whorehouse because he wants to sample the goods himself, had been Dino’s conclusion. A real waste of prime manhood, he decided.
Gordon was there, in the gym, looking real good in gym shorts and an almost-transparent white athletic shirt, with armholes going almost down to his waist and showing masculine hairy pits and an old-ship naval battle going on across his torso, which could be picked out pretty well through the wide mesh of the shirt.
“All done in the studio building, Mr. Gordon,” he called out to the owner of this almost-completed complex. “I’ll go back to the company office and let them know. They’ll contact you.”
“I get a final inspection before you go, I think,” Gordon said, walking up to Dino and putting a hand on his shoulder.
Dino liked the intimacy of that feel, and he went a little hard. Boy, would he ever like to get it on with this stud—and be manhandled by him. Gordon was quite a bit older than he was and looked like a thug, but Dino liked older men—and he liked thugs. He’d found that group of guys over in Buckingham who did some of that—bondage and toys and stuff. Rough sex. Two on one. Dino shivered at the thought.
“Final inspection?” Dino asked. “Final inspection of what?”
“The movie studio. You did know I was putting in a movie studio to do gay porn flicks, didn’t you? I thought you would have figured that out.”
