The New Tenant
The penthouse windows peered out over the smog of the city. It sat nestled above the clouds like Olympus, distant and detached from the filth and squalor of the streets below. Even if the yellow-orange miasma had not blotted out the blighted metropolis blow, the suite sat so high above it all that it was only visible as little spots of twinkling light in the shadow of the great towers.
Keif’s chin rested on his sharp knees, thighs pressed against his chest as he leaned against the reflective glass of the apartment’s great windows, his breath against the surface fogging over the cityscape beneath him. It was quite a view and the youth felt a twinge of vertigo. His skin prickled as he felt the rush of air from the suite’s vents, the air purifiers filling the room with the sweet scent of perfume and incense.
The flat was exquisitely furnished with antique furniture made of real wood. It felt so strange and foreign beneath Keif’s fingers. Something about knowing it was not synthetic altered the boy’s perception of it, made him feel a strange awe to sit upon something so foreign.
That was partly why he now sat in at the base of the great glass-crete windows that covered every wall of the penthouse. The surface had shifted on the far walls to opaque screens, shielding the flat against the bright rays of the setting sun. It was strange to live in the day-night cycle after having spent so many years in the twilight of the lower-deck of the city.
Keif’s hands twitched with nervous apprehension. Every mechanical click in the flat made him jump, expecting the private elevator to open and Iago to step in with some classy nob at his side.
Over the past few weeks the teen had become increasingly edgy. The penthouse had only been vacated for a short while, but Keif rapidly tired of his own company. Being left alone for so long put him at the mercy of thoughts and memories that he had long ago tried to pocket away. This was a drastic change from the knocking-shop in which Iago found him.
The youth clung his quaking hands to his bare chest and exhaled heavily, trying to center himself. Iago’s call early put Keif all on edge. The narrow faced man never let Keif forget his position in the scheme of things. It was always business and Iago seemed to take sadistic pleasure in rubbing it in the youth’s face.
“I’m showing the suite this afternoon.” The man said his lips barely moving. His face had been reconstructed numerous times; tiny digital tattoos carved a path across his features, lending him an eerie synthetic look. “Get yourself polished up. I don’t need to remind you that he’ll give you the same once over he gives the penthouse. It’s not skin off my teeth if he wants different furniture.”
That was six hours ago. Iago would not bother to give him a heads up beyond that. Keif has spent the morning shaving every inch of himself he could. He could not escape the thoughts of Iago even under the hot water of the shower as he washed with thousand-dollar exfoliates and perfumes, all purchased by the curator.
His features gazed back at him in the reflective surface of the window. Those features were all he had. If not for his pretty looks and his lithe body, he’d have remained on the streets, slowly withering as his lungs failed him and his mind rotted from cheap sex and cheaper drugs. The gray streets.
Only six months ago. It was so easy for his mind to wander back to the time before the penthouse. He hated thinking on it. He hated worrying about ending up there again. Things were so much easier when there was a tenant and he was simply furniture.
Keif didn’t jump any less when he heard the preemptive ring of the arriving lift. Scrambling to his feet he half-jogged across the expensive rug that covered the length of the main hall of the flat. He took up position at the corner of the landing opposite the large green tree. Nervous fingers adjusted the skin-tight white latex that kept him from being completely exposed to the world.
Not that Keif suspected anyone would notice or complain.
The doors silently whisked open and Keif centered himself, focusing on staring forward and slightly down at the tile floor. He could smell the strong odor of Iago’s cologne and the slightly sweet scent of Foolkiller. The elevator’s other occupant was obviously a user and obviously a work-aholic. Foolkiller was favored among executives and military higher ups. People who needed to ooze control and self-confidence at all times.
The two men crossed the threshold, still carrying their elevator conversation with them into the pure-white confines of the penthouse. Keif stood rigid as they walked past him, trying his best to melt into the background and not sour Iago’s pitch. The man had a temper and a willingness to exorcise it on the youth’s skin or even the implants beneath it.
“Display evening.” Iago said, he voice curling the last syllable. They’d been drinking. The suite responded immediately, walls dimming to a gray-blue, the outer windows tinting until the world outside was a haze of blurry lights and dark shapes.
When Keif was sure the two men had entered the main hall he chanced a glimpse at the prospective-tenant. The man’s gaze met his own, looking back over his shoulder at the boy in the corner. Keif’s heart leaped to his throat and he tightened his hands into fists, staring downward again, blushing furiously and growing angry with himself. Fuck! He’d already shown what little experience he had.
Fuck!
The man was a foot taller than Iago and dressed in a tightly tailored suit that shimmered silver, blue, black and purple beneath the room’s lessened lights. Keif made out the faintest signs of tech beneath the man’s skin at the back of his head and neck, his whole right arm encased in cybernetics. His sleek hair was pulled back into a topknot.
Keif made a point of not moving from his spot, trying to redeem his moment of impetuousness. All that ran through his head now was terror. Terror of Iago’s temper, terror of the street, just … terror. His lower lip quivered and the youth found himself battling to control the sobs building up inside him.
Fuck!
Iago made a short trip of showing the man around the decorated suite. It came as a packaged deal. Moving such antiques from the massive towers rapidly approached the unfeasible and each suite had its own personality, story, and name. Keif came with that packaged deal.
Assuming he had not just ruined everything.
“And it’s available as of this very moment.” Iago finished. Somewhere along the way they’d acquired goblets and wine and now stood overlooking the cityview below, each cast in silhouette by the orange light without.
“The previous occupant?”
“Alas, only a short term stay, Mister Armitage. More is the pity.”
That wasn’t true. Keif had been the one to find the body - his tongue black, his eyes wide open. Even now the thought of waking up in the Mister Arcos’ cold embrace, rolling over, the shock. It was too much to think about. The boy bit his lower lip.
“The furniture?”
Keif felt a wash of endorphins, knowing the two men were now looking at him. He stiffened, trying to look the part, sucking in his stomach, praying that the hours of preening in front of mirrors would make him exactly what the tenant wanted.
“Over there, where it should be.” Iago’s voice betrayed the smile on his face, though Keif could not see it. “He’s a little new. Mister Arcos was his first owner but he had nothing but positive things to say. Take a look, it’s a sexy little number to be sure.
“If he’s not your type, I’m sure we have something more fitting and I know a few agencies.” Oh how Iago loved to torment Keif with that fact. He was replaceable. He was furniture, but he was worth less than the chairs.
Footsteps approached and Keif’s heart thundered. He burned beneath the gaze of the stranger, the scent of Foolkiller surrounded him like a fog. There were no words as the second drew out into minutes. What was he thinking? Did he want a touch? A taste? As the moment slunk on Keif found himself begging for some confirmation from this Mister Armitage.
Keif’s vision was blocked finally as someone stepped in front of him. He caught the glimmer of the man’s suit, a hand reach forward and ran over his shoulder, down his side with the same care as when Keif touched the wooden chairs. Finally the hand rested beneath his chin, raised his face to look forward. Keif met the man’s gaze and smiled timidly in the coy way he found powerful men liked.
The dark man did not respond in kind, his eyes mechanically observing Keif’s face. The boy realized they were not real in an instant - small red lights glimmered where iris should have been. The same hands roughly ran down Keif’s flank and his latex shorts, groping him through them. The youth could now hold back the needy moan that followed.
“Should I leave you two alone for a minute? Allow you a trial run?” Iago teased, his words stabbing Keif with their meaning: whore.
“No.”
Fuck! He was on the way out. Keif’s eyes fell.
“Ah. No worries. There are other pretty things in the world.” Came Iago’s ready response.
“No, I meant he can manage here. I’m sure he’s done worse in less dignified company.”
Iago. Dignified. The irony did not escape Keif. The man was a glorified pimp. He simply made more than the street daddies.
“Haha. True enough. Earn your keep, boy.”
Keif knew what that meant. This was his try-out. His fingers were twitching wildly and the youth found himself on the edge of a panic attack. At Iago’s degrading order, Keif took a step towards the owner-to-be. In the low light he could finally make out Armitage’s features, his severe sideburns that ended just above his jaw in a sharp strip. His face spoke of harder living than his suit had lead Keif to believe.
Pressing himself against the man, Keif could feel the hard arousal beneath his silken slacks. The boy ground against Armitage’s side and rubbed the not-so-subtle erection. He felt emboldened by this sign. The man liked what he saw. Keif was a good investment.
Gingerly he ran down the zipper to the executive’s pants. The boy was half expecting to find some kind of bionic piston inside given the amount of cybernetic modification on the man, but instead he found a member rigid and hard, already eager for the touch of Keif’s lips. Sensually took him in his mouth, tongue teasing and toying with the man’s cock. His intuition and experience quickly calmed his nervousness and desperation. This was the boy’s natural state - something familiar and mindless.
Keif found his rhythm and bobbed in time to the beating of his heart. The world around him disappeared and his worries seemed as small and distance as the streets below. Mister Armitage’s breathing quickened and be pumped his hips, pressing his cock deeper into Keif’s mouth with each thrust.
Time surged by and Keif was rewarded for his efforts. Armitage huffed loudly before Keif’s mouth filled with the man’s cum. Keif cleaned the man’s cock before he pushed back onto his haunches. It didn’t take long for him to regain his senses and place what he had just done in context. A fact that made him eager to look at the ground once again has he had been trained.
Mister Armitage zipped up and spoke. “I’ll take the place. The furniture can stay. I suppose I’ll give him a chance. As you said, he’s cheaper than the chairs.”