Archivist's note: This story was presented as the SHareCon 2002 play, otherwise known as "Bad SH Theater." The ShareCon play is always a sterling representative of the worst of slash writing.

It was early evening when the fiery red Torino halted to a stop in front of the dingy, run down honky-tonk on the wrong side of the tracks. It's driver gazed with a steely eyed gaze at the dark doorway, then climbed from the chariot, sensuously stretching his taut, muscular body. He removed his sunglasses and strutted slowly inside.

Once inside the odorous bar, he swung his gaze slowly across the room. He was a man; a man who knew what he wanted, and had come to get it. He slid his sunglasses down his nose to better see in the smoky gloom. His prey was here. He could feel the beating of it's heart the way a blind bee feels a flower is somewhere nearby even though it can't see it.

At last he spotted him, lounging lewdly against the jukebox, a beer in one hand, trying to look cool under the hungry gaze of his hunter. The man bounded slowly across the room to stand before the handsome, overly tall blond hanging lewdly off the jukebox. The blond feigned indifference, but his sexy partner wasn't fooled by the false charade. He could feel the blond's icy hot arousal. He stepped up close to him and, gazing up at him, slowly removed his sunglasses.

"I wasn't expecting you," the blond whispered passionately.

The man didn't answer. He just let his gaze meander over the blond's long, smooth frame, the way a fly wanders over a window pane when he doesn't know you're standing there with a rolled up newspaper. He could see the blond man start to pant under his penetrating inspection, and allowed his gaze to settle on the stretched out bulge in the front of the blond's sexy brown cords.

He licked his lips like a wolf, and his aroused prey gasped out loud. The blond began to reach for his cock, unable to control the desire that sang through him almost as good as the blond himself could sing, which was really damn good when he would just relax. But the man who was making him so hot stepped back, remembering they were in a public place with people in it.

". . . not here," he growled regretfully. "Let's take it somewhere more private."

But the blond's eyes pleaded with him pleadingly, and he knew his big golden beauty couldn't wait, he had fallen victim to the waves of masculinity that rolled off of his lover like big waves rolling off of something. He needed it bad . . . needed it now.

The dark haired hunter looked about him for a discreet corner, but there was only one option, and the look in his captivated lover's eyes told him it would have to do.

"Follow me," he grunted meaningfully, and strutted inconspicuously toward the john.

His blond Adonis understood instantly, and followed him. They entered the tiny john to find it was a single seater with no divisions, a problem that was a dilemma. But there was no restraining the blond's white hot need. and the master of his passions thought fast, then turned his lean but muscular back to the door, planting his rubber clad heels at the base.

"C'mere," he postulated seductively, and when his eager and aroused partner complied, he turned him in his arms, so that his chest was to the blond's back while the blond was facing the paper towel dispenser with the scratched-in drawing of the barmaid giving head.

He pushed gently on the back of the blond's silky blond head, and, moaning gratefully, his golden lover complied, reaching forward to hang onto the graffiti covered wall before him.

This sight filled his powerful lover behind him with burning hot desire, and he reached between the long thighs before him to knowingly caress the straining bulge he'd been looking at out by the juke box.

The blond man lurched in ecstasy, as if his ecstasy button had been direct wired to a Pep Boys Winterizer Heavy Duty battery. It looked really hot when he did that, and his dark haired lover could not keep from humping the fine booty before him, masterfully grinding his enormous, virile, swollen rod between the broad, corduroy covered butt cheeks.

"Take me," pleaded the blond, as he pushed down the cords to reveal his flawless white ass to the ravenous man behind him. The dark-haired stud spread the lube someone had accidentally left behind in the john over his massive, rock hard member, and probed some into the waiting pink orifice as his golden lover squirmed in dizzied delight at the end of his accomplished fingers. He entered with a long thrust, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears almost drowning out the sound of angry bar patrons with full bladders banging on the door. He thrust like a piston into his lover's secret tunnel of joy, while looking deeply into his eyes to make it kind of spiritual. With a hissing screech the blond came, spraying his love juice across the wall like a malfunctioning drinking fountain, and still his insatiable, dark haired lover pounded on, allowing himself the top of the pinnacle only when shouted calls for a crowbar reached him through the door. He recovered quickly, being a man of stamina and strength, and gently helped his utterly spent partner to pull up his pants.

The bar fell silent as he exited the john with his arm wrapped around his still wobbly partner.

"Food poisoning," he elucidated vaguely. He guided his prize through the rundown tavern and out into the darkness, then helped him into the vermilion chariot.

The handsome man took off his sunglasses and stood looking back at the bar for a moment with an expression of indifferent affection. Then he climbed behind the wheel. As his blond lover sat gazing at him in mute adoration he expertly maneuvered the gleaming vehicle into the dark streets before him, the streetlights reflections flicking by on his sunglasses.