Bear Hunt 2: Preyed Upon No More
By Friday morning, Brad finds himself a bit lonely. This surprises him, as it wasn't all that long ago that he lived alone, and he has far more to keep him occupied at the house than he did at the apartment. It occurs to him that his friends have been asking him to go out to the clubs with them for a while, something he hasn't done since he has moved in with Robert. He decides to go for a bit, to hang out and dance. He knows Robert won't mind, as he has been encouraging him to keep up with his friends; Brad has just had no desire to go bar hopping when he can come home to his man instead. He can picture Robert tell him sternly that he may only have a drink or two at most, as he will have to drive himself home. He calls his buddy Lee to see what everyone is planning. It is decided that he will just stay in the city and freshen up in the office's private dressing room and shower after working a bit late, join Lee and a large group for dinner, and then they will hit the bars at 9 or so when the action picks up. He calls Robert and lets him know he is planning to go out to dinner and see some friends, but won't be out too late. He does indeed get that lecture he had visualized, before being told to behave while he has fun.
Dinner out is very pleasant, they choose a casual neighborhood place that is reasonably priced and allows them to talk and joke as much as they please. It is good to see his friends, and to meet some new guys as well. As a whole, they would be called cubs, with none of them dominant or aggressive, and Brad finds himself playing a much less passive role than he ever had in the past, determining what appetizers to order when no one can decide, telling a couple guys to behave when they get into a silly argument. He doesn't realize this until it has become time to leave, and the others look to him to choose what bar to go to first.
"I don't know guys, I haven't been out for a while and don't know what is hot right now. You pick."
"C'mon Brad, please. Everything is about the same."
Instead of letting the discussion spin in circles, Brad thinks a moment and decides that he has always liked the music and atmosphere at Grind, and so they head there, everyone happy.
Grind was exactly as Brad had remembered, crowded on a Friday night with a variety of types of guys, playing loud music with a roomy dance floor, and no smoke in the air. They managed to find a small table to crowd around, and Brad sprang for the first round of drinks, choosing diet coke for himself as he had indulged in a couple of rum and cokes at dinner. After those arrive, the group split, some dancing, some holding the table, others mingling and flirting.
Brad found that he seemed to be getting more attention than he used to, and casually flirted with several men, having his ass groped by a few and dancing with some. He greatly enjoyed it, but found himself realizing that while the attention was nice and the guys were hot and friendly, he wasn't in the least interested in considering anything more, and had to turn several offers down gently. A couple of his friends did indeed find men they were interested in and bid an early good night to the group.
He worked up a bit of a sweat with his dance moves, though he was too shy to remove his shirt as several guys suggested, and ended up guzzling down his diet coke and then a second. After another round on the dance floor, he found he had to excuse himself to hit the restroom between all the fluids and the shaking of his behind.
Brad sighed heavily at the urinal, relieving himself in a strong stream. He heard the door to the restroom open and someone walk up next to him. By the uneven sounds of the footsteps, it is obvious this guy has had a bit much to drink. In his peripheral vision, Brad sees a taller, lanky man with greasy blonde hair. He is clean shaven and has a scar running down his cheek. His clothing is frayed and looks none too clean. His sleeveless flannel shirt reveals several tattoos on his upper arms along with more scars. As there are intentionally no dividers between the urinals at Grind, he also sees a long thick cock pulled out of the man's jeans, before the sound of another heavy stream of piss joins his.
"Bet ya'd rather be suckin' this monster instead of just lookin' at it, boy" says the man with a noticeable slur.
"No, really, that's ok" replies Brad, giving himself a couple shakes before repositioning and zipping himself up.
"Yeah, hide that little stuff back up, ya got a real man's cock ta play with now" the guy says as he turns toward Brad, his stream tapering off as he starts to stiffen.
"Thanks but no thanks."
"If ya don't wanna suck it, maybe ya want ta go over ta the stall and have me shove it up yur ass. Is that it, ya chubby whore?"
"Look, I told you no, and I mean no."
The man reaches out to grab Brad's arm, but Brad sees it coming and takes a step back. Feeling the situation starting to spin out of control, Brad manages to quickly move around the man to the door and leave the restroom. Walking towards his friends, he shudders and realized how badly the man had given him the creeps.
"Hey Brad, no action in the bathroom, huh? You ready for another round?"
"Nope, none. As a matter of fact, seeing as we are all empty, why don't we move across the street to Keys? I could use a break from dancing and just sit at the piano bar."
Several of Brad's friends agree, but some want to stay at Grind as they are eying certain guys, and so the two groups part with hugs and promises to get together soon. Brad and three others exit Grind and cross the busy street, lost in conversation.
Keys is almost as busy as Grind, but more subdued. The piano bar has room in a booth for them, and the singing is very pleasant. Instead of wild dancing, the dance floor is full of slow close movement. Lee convinces Brad to have one more drink, and he consents to a sweet fruity concoction with umbrellas that he knows Robert would roll his eyes over, enjoying it immensely. Soon he discovers that he is singing along with the piano man rather more loudly than he thought, much to the amusement of his table mates, and switches over to espresso. They spend an hour or so alternately listening to the music, dancing as friends, and in light conversation. As the others begin to mingle more, Brad decides it is time for him to head home. Again hugs and promises to do this again are exchanged. The hugs are very pleasant, not sexual but friendly, warm and comfortable.
Brad walks out into the cool night air, finding it refreshing, ready for the walk of a couple blocks to get back to his car. As he starts to move down the street, he doesn't look into the adjacent alley, doesn't see the shadowy figure begin to detach itself from the wall where it has been leaning.
"Hey, Brad, wait up" he hears Lee shout from Keys' entrance.
Turning, he sees Lee and an older guy with a salt and pepper goatee hurrying towards him.
"Brad, do you remember Gary? He was the pool party last summer, I know you met."
"Hi Gary. I do remember you now. It's nice to see you."
"You too Brad. Hope all's well."
With a big smile, Lee mentions that Gary had spotted him just as Brad had gotten up, and invited Lee to come back to his place for a night cap instead of staying at the bar. "You want to come, Brad?"
"No, I've had enough. And I figure you two want to be alone anyway."
"That's true. We can all walk together to the cars though. I'm parked in the same lot as you."
The walk passes even more pleasantly with company, and the three stand talking for several minutes at the parking lot before going their separate ways.
Before setting off, he sends Robert a quick text letting him know he is headed for home, feeling that if midnight paintball is still going on a phone call might be distracting. The car ride is uneventful, though seeing multiple flashing lights as other cars are pulled over makes Brad glad that he was careful with his drinking. Not that long ago, when home was just a cab ride away, he would have drank himself silly. He realized that he had actually had more fun with his friends this way, was more relaxed and remembered the evening. It helped that he was with actual friends who hadn't been pressuring him about finding a guy for the evening, but who had asked with much curiosity about Robert and their life together and been happy for him. Traffic lightens as he leaves the city, though there is still an occasional police cruiser off to the side of the road, and then for a long while there isn't another car in sight except for one in the distance behind him. After all the noise and lights of the evening, he drives without music with the window down, enjoying the fresh air and quiet.
Pulling up to the gated drive, he punches in his code and slowly pulls through, carefully resetting the gate once he has pulled through, remembering his forgetfulness of the other day.
"Robert would never let me live it down if I forgot again, especially after going out."
He pulls into the garage and gets out of the car. The entire security panel shows a steady green, and he kicks off his shoes heading into the house. He checks his phone to see that Robert has responded to his text, confirming that he is playing paintball but almost done, and to drive safely, he'll call later. Setting the phone on the kitchen counter, he reaches up to grab a glass to fill with cold water. Just then, he hears a sharp beeping noise, and glancing over, sees that the security panel is now blinking red, signaling an alert at the driveway gate. Walking over, he quickly types in the override code, figuring he must have miskeyed something earlier, but to no avail.
"Oh damn, I was so smug, I must have drank more than I thought and bumped the gate or something. I better go see what I did now."
So, shoes off, he hurries out of the house and down the long drive towards the gate, trees and darkness on either side as he gets further from the house.
A bit winded, he nears the gate, and just as it registers on him that the chain link has been cut and pried open, a shape leaps from the brush to his left and shoves him to the side. Before he can regain his balance, a fist punches him hard in the shoulder, spinning him, then with an uppercut another hits him square in the face, knocking him flat on his back.
Struggling to catch his breath, blood flowing freely from his nose, Brad blinks, trying to clear his head, and sees the man from the restroom at Grind standing over him, a wicked grin on his face.
"Not so fulla yurself now, are ya, slut? What, I wasn't good enuff fer ya?"
"Huh? What ..."
"Fuck, ya don't need to use that purty mouth to talk with. Clint's got what we need ta fill that there mouth with" says the man as he reaches to unzip his pants.
"Yeah, that's yur problem, ya think if ya talk ya have the right ta say no. Well, let me tell ya now, slut, bottom boy whores like ya don't ever tell a real man like me no. That just ain't right. Yur gonna pay fer makin' me wait, slut, we're gonna tear that ass o' yurs wide open after whippin' it raw."
The Brad of just a year ago would have cringed and panicked. His mind would have raced with worst case scenarios and he would have been paralyzed with fear.
Clint slowly and purposefully approaches the prone Brad, a sneer on his face, the ruthless predator stalking his prey, knowing what he wants is within easy reach.
Without thinking, lying on his back on ground, Brad shifts from his back to his right side and sweeps out with his left foot, catching his assailant behind the right ankle and causing him to fall backwards. Brad continues the roll and somehow ends up on his feet.
Clint also rises and now lunges forward, even more enraged, his face red with anger. Brad swings his right fist low and hard, which combines with the Clint's forward momentum, the additional force jolting Brad's arm as he connects, turning him sideways. He strikes Clint right in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him.
As Clint is bent over gasping, Brad clasps his hands together, quickly raises them over his head and then brings them down hard on his opponent's back, driving him to the ground. Brad quickly places a foot on the back of the guy's neck, pressing and holding him down, making it harder for him to regain his breath.
Breathing hard, tasting his own blood which still runs freely down his face, Brad finally has time to think again, the events of the last few moments finally catching up with him. But before he can even begin to ponder what to do next, flashing red and blue lights approach rapidly, and a police cruiser crunches to a rapid halt right outside the gate.
"No one move!" declares a loud deep voice as the car doors swing open, and two officers emerge, one with his gun drawn, the other swinging the spot light mounted on the outside of the car over onto the two men.
Brad slowly raises his hands in the air, panting, noticing a second squad car several hundred feet down the road near a dark old car. Still covered by the gun, Brad watches as the one officer walks over and punches a code into the gate keypad, causing the fence to open partway before jamming.
The officers approach slowly, stating "This is the police. No one move."
This has given Clint enough time to partially regain his breath, and he struggles to roll, but Brad just presses down harder with his foot, pressing Clint's face into the gravel, those extra pounds serving a good purpose now.
"Officers, this man broke in, I live here, let me go to the house, and I can prove it."
The older officer, a large bearded man, obviously in charge, responds. "No need for that. You must be Bradley. You look just like the pictures Robert brought in when he notified us that you were co-owner of the place and to update our security protocols."
"Sir, he did what?"
"No need to call me sir, I'm Sergeant Jones. And yes, Robert came in a while back and informed us you had full rights in case the alarm went off and alerted us. As a matter of fact, he told us exactly how pissed he'd be if the alarm sounded and we didn't get our tails down here within 5 minutes to make sure you were ok. Johnson, cuff the guy on the ground."
As Officer Johnson steps forward, placing a knee on Clint's back and grabbing his arms to place handcuffs on him, Brad takes a step back.
"Now officers, we was just havin' some fun. The fat boy here done invited me over. Ain't that so, boy" slurs Clint, spitting gravel from his mouth.
Just then, Sergeant Jones' phone beeps, and another officer's voice sounds over the speaker.
"Sarge, the car back here matches the description of one that we were to watch for, registered to one Clinton Gorsky, who jumped bond and is wanted for assault and armed robbery. He lists as armed and dangerous."
"Well, now, Mr. Gorsky, I assume, seems to me we have some talking to do. Those cutters right outside the gate don't lead me to think you really had an invitation." Sergeant Jones says as he holsters his gun.
"Sergeant, he was certainly not invited. I'll be happy to make a statement."
"Thank you Bradley. It would certainly help, even though the warrant already out for him is enough. You don't have to press charges."
"I think I do. Someone like this needs to be locked up. I won't back away just to make it easier for myself, that would just lead to someone else getting hurt."
Sergeant Jones hands Brad a handkerchief to wipe his bloody face. "Thank you, son, I can see why Robert is so taken with you."
After Clint is dragged off, putting up a fight all the way to the second squad car, Brad spends the next hour telling his complete story to Sergeant Jones while Officer Johnson takes notes. He even insists on a breathalyzer test after admitting to his few drinks earlier, the results of which come out well under the legal limit. He wants there to be no question that he is clear on all the facts. He tells them that he will make sure that they are supplied with the raw data from the security cameras, which will support the charges of trespass and assault.
Finally, Sergeant Jones stands up and offers his large beefy hand.
"Thank you Bradley, you have been very helpful I'm sorry we had to meet like this, and am glad you are alright. We will be in contact if we need anything."
"Thank you, Sergeant" Brad says, taking the offered hand.
"Son, you are shaking all over, and it is still a warm night. I think the shock of this all is hitting you. Will you be ok alone?"
"Sure, I'll be fine, it was just all so fast, and telling it, I keep thinking what if..."
Jones throws a friendly arm around Brad's shoulders. "Son, look at me. Off the record now, I'm going to tell you exactly what Robert would. Stop thinking about what ifs, you can't change the past. And what happened, you did exactly the right thing. You acted quickly and decisively and took yourself out of danger. Each case is different, it might not always be right to fight back, but you did well."
"But what if I wasn't good enough..."
"The point is, you were. You kept your head about you and handled the situation. I didn't mention it before, but Gorsky also had a switchblade on him, I don't doubt he planned to use it."
"Yes, son, a knife. Things would have gone from bad to worse if you hadn't acted."
"No buts about it, you did good, Bradley, and you should be proud of yourself. Now go clean up and get some rest. Call if you need anything."
And with that, the Sergeant and Officer Johnson walk to their squad car and head back to the station.
To be continued …