By Hunter Perez

John needed a plan where he could introduce himself to his neighbor without overtly addressing the pleas in the letters he received. He decided to fall back on a routine that he carried out for years – each summer, he would share the heirloom tomatoes that he grew in his backyard with his immediate neighbors. He figured this would not attract any unusual attention from the elderly folks who lived around him, as they became used to that annual routine and, thus, would not think it odd that he would suddenly choose to visit with the object with attention.

However, time and weather were not his allies. It rained heavily during the days he was off from work, which kept his blond neighbor inside and out of sight – but when the weather was bright and sunny, John was stuck doing double shifts that brought him home exhausted in the early hours of the day.

During this stretch, another lemon yellow envelope addressed to “Mr. Cop” appeared in his mailbox. John came off his double shift and gave the envelope his immediate attention.

“Dear Mr. Cop,” the letter began. “I hope I am not being corny, but I wanted to compliment you on your physique. I couldn’t help but notice you the other day working in your front lawn with your shirt off. Watching your hard and muscular body sweating in the sun, I was afraid that my salivary glands would create a flood.”

John laughed to himself and shook his head. “Oh, he was watching. I’m much more interesting than whatever book he has.”

“If I were your prisoner, Sir, I would need to be caged in a chastity device,” the letter continued. “The thought of being in such close contact with such a hot muscle stud would turn me into a wild monster. Keeping my cock caged would save you from being attacked by my sexual frenzy.”

John laughed with a huge roar. “I love this guy. Yeah, bookworm, you can look but you can only touch when I say so.”

The letter concluded, “Mr. Cop, I hope that I can find the courage to make your acquaintance in person. I could be an invaluable asset to you if you should decide to take custody of me.”

John tossed the letter on his kitchen table and exhaled. “I can’t imagine how this guy is going to react when I show up at his doorstep. He’ll probably faint, or he’ll have an erection that will burst the pants of his legs.”

When John had his next day off, the weather worked to his advantage. He took out a wicker basket and filled it with the tomatoes from his garden, and then waited for his neighbor to appear. When his target came outside to begin his afternoon reading, John started making the rounds to his houses next door to share his tomatoes. After his initial deliveries, he made his way down the street to his destination.

“Hello!” John called out as he approached the house. The blond neighbor was seated in a folding chair, a heavy hardcover book resting in his lap. He wore a tight white t-shirt and jeans that frayed at the hems above his bare feet. He looked up as John approached and removed his dark-rimmed eyeglasses. John finally enjoyed a clear look at him and he was smitten – a pale, face with a strong chin, finely chiseled features, a slight blond mustache over perfectly shaped lips and the most beautiful hazel eyes John ever beheld.

“I live at the house at the end of the street,” John said with a growing smile as he climbed the stairs to the porch. “I like to share the tomatoes I grow in my garden with my neighbors, and I thought I would bring some over for you.”

The blond man looked at John strangely. “I can’t stand tomatoes,” he blurted in a low voice before returning his eyeglasses to his face and resuming his place in his book.

John stopped at the edge of the porch and stood for a few seconds in silent surprise, his smile evaporating instantly. “I’m sorry, you’re not a tomato person?”

“No,” the neighbor replied without looking up from his book.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” John said dejectedly. “I grow a lot of things in my backyard – cucumbers, peppers, carrots, berries, herbs. If you ever want to save money on produce, just let me know.”

The neighbor tilted his head up slightly and looked over the top of his glasses at John, nodding with the slightest of movements. “Thank you,” he said with no trace of appreciation.

“I’m John, by the way,” John stated, forcing a smile. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“Lucas,” the neighbor replied before returning to his book.

John stood quietly, uncertain how to respond. He fiddled with the handle of his basket before starting to say, “If you don’t mind my…”

“Please excuse me,” Lucas said while closing his book and removing his eyeglasses. Lucas stood, pivoted quickly and paced to the front door. Within seconds, he disappeared behind the door, which was followed by the loud click of a lock.

After standing alone for a few more seconds, John slowly retreated down from the porch and made his way back to his home. He dumped basket of tomatoes into his kitchen sink, took a beer bottle from his refrigerator and liberated its contents into his throat.

“It had to be him,” he thought to himself in a mix of anger and confusion. “No one else was watching me work in the front with my shirt off. The old folks around here aren’t writing bondage fantasy letters.”

John finished his beer and then took another. “I don’t get it,” he muttered. “He writes me these crazy letters where he begs me to imprison him, but when I show up at his door he treats me like I have leprosy.”

John finished his beer too quickly and grabbed another. He plopped on his living room couch and flicked through the cable television channels, but he couldn’t concentrate on what he was watching.

“Lucas,” he thought to himself. “I want to lock you up, Lucas. You won’t be snotty with me once you’re in my chains. You’ll have shackles on your wrists and ankles and a thick metal collar on your neck. You’ll be on your knees begging to be set free, pleading to be let go. But that won’t happen, Lucas. I’ll give you what wished for. I’ll get a chastity cage and lock up your dick – the only dick you’ll have is mine in your mouth. You won’t be such a rude shit when I’m done with you, Lucas.”

By the end of the third beer, John was asleep. He woke up after a few hours with a throbbing headache, and he showered and made hot coffee to relieve the pain. He went upstairs to his bedroom and peeked out to Lucas’ home – the lights were out. John scooped up some magazines he had yet to read and spent the rest of the day scanning their pages – but his mind kept swinging back to Lucas.

For the next few days, John could not dislodge Lucas from his thoughts. When he needed to arrest a shoplifter, he found himself imagining the crook was Lucas. He did double takes whenever he saw a young blond man while on duty, secretly hoping it was a Lucas sighting. When he showered, he found himself daydreaming that Lucas was with him under the hot water. When he rested in bed, he drifted into sleep wondering what Lucas would wear if he was his captive – or if he should be wearing anything at all.

But his fantasies and obsessive thoughts started to frustrate John, who debated whether he should go back to Lucas’ home to try and speak with him again. He didn’t see Lucas, no matter at which hour he was spying. Did he go away, or was he hiding? Or did he even know or care what John was thinking?

Another lemon yellow envelope addressed to “Mr. Cop” turned up in his mail. John opened the envelope to find the briefest message to date.

“Dear Mr. Cop – I love you,” the letter said.

John gazed at the letter for the longest time before letting loose with vile curses. He crumpled it into a ball and throwing it into the trash.

“Asshole – jailers don’t fall in love with prisoners,” he breathed. “I want you as my prisoner, as you wanted to be my prisoner.”

After putting in his repeated double shifts, John was rewarded with a week off. He booked a hotel room in New Haven and decided to revisit the bars where he had no problems finding temporary company. He arrived in the early evening, checked into his room, put on his favorite tight black t-shirt and skinny jeans, had a fast-food dinner and checked out the bars. One place was near empty, with only a few sad souls that didn’t inspire him. A second had more activity, with a mix of ages dancing to the blaring music. John took a visual inventory of his surroundings and smirked at the surplus of attractive young men. But then, he froze – at the far end of the bar was Lucas, sitting by himself at a table while running his fingers along a beer bottle.

“Did he follow me?” John thought. “How would he know I’d be down here? This can’t be a coincidence.”

John walked slowly across the crowded bar and stopped before Lucas’ table. Lucas looked up at John and nodded slightly with no emotion.

“Are you here by yourself?” John asked.

Lucas nodded more vigorously.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” John said, but his question did not extract a response from Lucas. John waved his hand to his chest and said, “Come with me.”

Lucas stood, left the bottle at the table and followed John out of the bar. They walked side by side down the street to John’s hotel.

“I’m at this hotel,” John said, pointing into the distance.

“So am I,” Lucas said.

John wanted to start peppering Lucas with questions, but he opted to stay quiet while trying to determine how strong Lucas might be and what would be needed to keep him subservient in bondage. Lucas said nothing and betrayed no clue on what he was thinking as he walked alongside John into the hotel and to the elevator.

“I have a top floor suite,” John said.

“I’m on the third floor,” Lucas said.

“You’re underneath me – I like that,” John said with a chuckle that failed to elicit a response from Lucas.

When the elevator arrived at John’s floor, the men exited and John led Lucas to the end of the hall. John took out his passkey and opened the suite’s door, then reached into the dark room to hit the light switch that illuminated the space. He stood holding the door open as Lucas remained outside the doorframe, surveying what laid before him.

Lucas stepped in front on John and came up into his face. “Fuck me hard,” he said.

John grinned, grabbed Lucas by his throat, threw him violently into the suite, slammed the door, and gave Lucas what he asked for.

To be continued …