Twink on Top: The Dork and the Dealer

By: Marcus Greene

Juan was Latino and he was from the barrio, so he thought he should be able to buy drugs more effectively. But he was from California, where he could get weed easily and more or less legally. Now he lived in Michigan and had to buy from a dealer. His street smarts were inapplicable here, where there were few Latinos and the drug dealers didn't hang out on street corners (at least not in January).

So it had taken him two weeks to get introduced to a dealer, a tall black man named Vic, who talked like he had swallowed an ashtray. His voice was all gravel and low, rumbling tones.

He nervously opened the door for Vic, who hustled in, wearing a heavy parka and a wool cap. He was a tall, leanly-muscled black man with thuggish tattoos peeking out from under his clothes, extended up his neck to his jaw and down his wrist to his fingers. He was in his mid-thirties, with a rough, craggy face, perpetual scruff on his chin, and a deep scowl.

Juan gulped nervously; he felt like a dork next to Vic, who was brimming with machismo and coolness. It was like high school all over again, Juan thought, right down to the nerve-wracking danger as he bought weed from a black guy. He cleared his throat. "So, I was hoping to buy an ounce-"

"Hush," Vic said, peering through the apartment as though he was going to rob it. Juan was worried, but he didn't think it was plausible -- Juan had just moved in, so he had nothing really worth robbing him for. Vic cleared his throat and sat on the couch. "Don't be so obvious about it."

Juan chuckled, thinking that was a joke. No one was in the apartment but them, and it was a tiny apartment, so there was no way anyone was hiding. There weren't even any windows through which someone outside could plausibly see Vic in the living room. But then Juan blushed as Vic glared at him, suggested he was extremely serious

He was very embarrassed. He had never been more conscious about how gay he acted. He was a thin, flamboyant twink who wasn't normally too self-conscious about it. But that didn't seem to be as tolerated here in Michigan as it was back in California. How dangerous was selling weed here, legally speaking? Juan assumed it wasn't really a big deal, but Vic acted as though he was in serious danger.

"You just moved here?"

"Uh-huh," Juan said, "from California. I'm from San Diego."

Vic nodded. "Cool, nigga," he said. "My cousin lives in San Diego. He used to sling coke, but he's on parole now." Then he began a long, complex story whose conclusion Juan suspected would eventually be:the police in San Diego are corrupt. But the way he told the story it had so many distractions and meandering plotpoints that he never quite finished explaining the corruption his cousin had witnessed.

"Yeah, the San Diego police are famously corrupt," Juan said as soon as the tale reached something like a conclusion. He cleared his throat. "Luckily it ain't illegal to buy weed there, y'know. Just go to a dispensary and shit."

Vic nodded. "So whatchoo want? A whole ounce?" Vic asked. "Hundred-eighty."

Juan sighed. He had known weed would be more expensive here than back in California but that was a ridiculous price. He wondered if it would be good weed. Probably not, he decided as he handed over the cash. But he wasn't about to give up on it. He'd just have to smoke out of his dugout more, rather than the bong, which he loved but also wasted weed.

When Vic gave him the bag, it actually looked like pretty good weed. Not the headache-schwag he was rather expecting. Juan had known he wasn't buying from a dispensary now, so the weed wouldn't be in a branded package, but still he was surprised to see it just tossed in a sandwich baggie.

"You gonna offer to suck it?"


Vic suddenly looked like the awkward, bashful one. "Most of the queers around here offer to suck my dick when they buy weed. They think they gonna get a discount. But they isn't, I don't do like that, nigga."

"Oh, well... I didn't know that was an option," Juan said. "Can I suck your dick?"

"I have never in my life turned down a blowjob," Vic said as though proud of himself. Despite his tone, he looked annoyed and impatient as he sunk back in the couch and unzipped his jeans. He flopped his dick out and frowned at Juan. "Don't even think about getting me to touch your cock."

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