The Hook-Up: Adventures of Maxwell Hunter
A. Scott Boddie
Copyright A. Scott Boddie 2012
Published by T-Tocs Books LLC at Smashwords
Visit ascottboddie.com for more information
Cover Photo Credit: Grondin Julien
Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design: A. Scott Boddie
All Rights Reserved
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This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
Adventures of Maxwell Hunter
The Hook-Up
Before heading to his apartment in Sheraton Square, above the Monster Bar NYC, Maxwell made his nightly visit to the bar looking for fresh meat. He was barely in the door when he saw his Chupracabra—a male Puerto Rican bottom version of Taylor Launtner with a thick bubble booty. Despite his whorish ways, he wished for stability with the perfect partner.
The bar had two floors--a dance floor in the basement and the piano bar on the main floor. The bass pumping from the basement set the stage for the hunt. He was a tiger--a solitary animal and hunted when necessary--but never shared his prize. Maxwell was 6'4, well built, and his beefy dick was his prized possession.
"Checking your coat, sir," the staff member asked as his eyes carefully undressed Maxwell. He removed his black leather jacket, revealing his large and muscular physique beneath his formfitting navy T-shirt, the man nearly passed out from Maxwell's swagger.
"Yes, but I don't think I'll be staying long," he said looking over his shoulder at his prey.
"One dollar, please."
"Here, this is for you," Maxwell winked handing him a five-dollar bill. The coat check man reached out far, touching Maxwell's hand, and wiggled his digit finger in the palm of his hand--the gay, I-want-to-have-sex-with-you handshake.
"I'm good my dude, I already have my eye on someone."
"Lucky him."
Maxwell turned and walked to the girl's restroom; the only bathroom in the gay bar with a lock on the door, and inside he looked in the mirror and slightly adjusted his scarf.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small clear baggie of blow, opened it, and with the point of a matchbook took a bump. Checking his nostrils carefully for powder residue then walked out of the restroom.
Standing at the bar, the loud chatter and tuneless singing streaming from the drunken group at the piano filled Maxwell's head as he tried to make eye contact with the object of his desires. The bartender pointed at him with an aggressive look of urgency. "What'll it be boss?"
"Grey Goose gimlet, please," Maxwell ordered.
"$12 bucks, sexy."
"Keep the change."