Chapter 7

Phineas was quick to take the tall stack of pizzas waiting for them at the front door into his arms, while Ethan placed his hand against the access panel for the entryway. It swung open with ease, a feature Phineas had improved upon and was still in the process of improving. He was a red blur in Ethan’s line of sight as he jetted across the floor to his designated eating table and began checking the pizzas for the ones most suitable for his consumption. A quick look-see was all it took to decide if the meat to vegetable ratio was optimal. If there was decidedly more red and brown on the top, it was stacked to the right to be eaten by Phineas himself. If there was a little too much of the other colors or a lack of proper cheese cementing them all down, it went to the left for Ethan. Even after he had found two suitable pizzas, he continued to scout through the rest just to be assured his were without a doubt the two made for him.

Ethan watched him do this with a crooked frown as he locked the door behind them and checked to be sure the basement was sealed as well. If he didn’t, he’d have a very hard time coming back down the stairs ever in the future. Childishly paranoid or not, no amount of rationalization would ever make him risk himself against an unknown.

When he returned to the table, Phineas was halfway through his first pizza, sauce somehow having made its way onto his forehead and side of his ear. He was happily dismantling all the loose bits from the top, especially the little round sausage bits that failed to become the prisoners of the melted cheese and would be most likely to escape in transit. After that, it simply disappeared and a new slice took its place, the not-too-secure bits again being plucked and eaten individually.

Ethan opened up the top box of his three and licked his lips at the sight of the grease-covered pie. With his Tabasco sauce in hand, he attacked with vigor until the red splatters likened it to a scene of utmost carnage. There was no time out for prayers, though he was thankful to Gabriel for the financial security to afford such luxuries, and no sooner was every slice supporting a pool of melted, artificial lard and hot sauce seen, than it began the first steps of its journey through Ethan.

Food time was quiet time; the only sound above smacking lips and sucking digits was the hum of machinery all around them. The florescent lighting gave off an electric hum as well, though they had a tendency to flicker and cast uncertain shadows. Ethan finished off his two extra-large pizzas and a fourth of his third, extending it towards Phineas should he have room for more. Certainly. Between the two of them, nothing went to waste and a leftover just meant someone stepped out to use the bathroom and would be back for the rest as soon as he was done. With a two liter of soda each to wash it all down, they sat on the floor beside the table, bloated and content.

“We should buy from that place again next time, too,” Ethan commented lazily, finalizing his statement with a hearty belch.

Phineas nodded beside him, petting his pot belly. In an hour’s time his protruding stomach would revert back to its nearly inverted state. For now, though, he unbuttoned his pants and let his tummy show proudly. The mark of a good meal indeed. “You know the one place with the picture of a man with a huge nose on the window? I want to try that one too. And their hot wings. And cheese sticks. And fried apple pies.”

Ethan grunted his approval. He liked the way this kid thought.

And the way he dressed in the many oversized layers.

And his unruly bright red hair.

And the look he got on his face when he was in the middle of something that required intricacy.

And the fact that no matter what he ate, it managed to get on his forehead.

Ethan sucked the sauce off just above the violent red eyebrows with a kiss. Phineas squirmed a bit, rubbing at his head with one hand dismissively, annoyed with the wet sensation. The older boy smirked a little to himself at the action and put an arm around Phineas’s shoulders.

“So, big boy, where’s this tattoo you got located?” Ethan asked, bending his head down lower to Phineas’s ear. He licked the small droplet of sauce remaining there as well, earning another annoyed swipe of the younger boy’s hand over the offended skin.

“M’ back.” Phineas answered plainly.

“Can I see?”

Phineas pulled away from him and pulled the many layers of shirts up over his head to best show off the fresh markings. Ethan’s warm fingers traced gently beside the dark ink through the clear plastic. “Nice. Guess you’re a man now, huh?”

“Gender wise, that’s never really been a topic of concern. Besides which, it’s not like it’s a rite of passage to let someone draw on me. I used to draw on myself all the time when I was bored.” Phineas let his shirts drop back down, though Ethan’s hand remained near the warm, abused flesh.

“Still, a tattoo is an adult body accessory.”

Phineas shrugged a bit, pulled away from Ethan’s hand but found it stuck under his layers. He leaned forward further and wiggled a bit, sure he’d dislodge it eventually. Ethan obliged after a moment of watching in amusement.

“So, what’s next? Piercings? Booze and chicks?”

The redhead’s face pinched in disinterest and he began rethinking the measures he took in refitting the door’s security systems.

Ethan put his arm back around Phineas, pulling him closer. “If not those, what do you think about guys?”

Phineas had already lost all interest in the conversation, though, the satiation from a good meal passing and being replaced with an eager will to expand upon the laboratory’s physical features. He wiggled away from Ethan and hopped to his feet, refastening the top button on his pants now that his stomach had started to return to normal, as well.

Ethan watched him walk away with a shrug and hurry over to the pile of machinery he had abandoned hours and hours ago. He frowned to himself, feeling the emptiness in the spot beside him. Perhaps Madam Cho was right. Maybe Phineas was too small for him. There was more than just youthful innocence in the red headed genius. There was an untaintable naivete nestled there between all the knowledge of machinery and science.

Feeling heavier from not only the large meal, Ethan stood up. “Guess you’ll be busy with that for the rest of the night, huh?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I think I can make these things recognize DNA instead of fingerprints. That would increase security in my lab by a hundred and forty-eight percent. The trick is to pick out certain protein combinations that are unique to me that will still be able to block possible blood relatives. I’ll have to make a new panel though, one that is sensitive to the dead cells of the epidermis and can use them for identification purposes...hm...probably a gelatin.” He began screwing off the metal plate to a circuit board as his mind continued to rattle off ideas and procedures.

“I’m going to head out then. Just make sure I can get in tomorrow, yeah?”

Phineas nodded absently, waving his hand for him to depart.

More than minimally aware that any carnal desires he felt were not to be satisfied by his new friend, Ethan closed the door tightly behind him and took stride towards his usual den of late night pleasures, or, as most people referred to it, The Chink.

The Chink was Madam Cho’s attempt at wit and subtlety that people who knew the place smirked at while others never even batted an eye. Located on the second story above The Great Wall, her day job, The Chink was an oriental menagerie of twilight desires orchestrated by the fine-boned bodies of oriental girls in a masquerade of culture and sex. Ethan always thought of the sound of a change purse, though, whenever he read the dimly lit sign pointing up the stairs above the Chinese buffet. He was sure the Madam would agree that a great deal of her profits came after hours.

The Chink was a perfectly legal institution should any police officer feel the desire to pop in and give a quick inspection. More burlesque than pornographic, Madam Cho’s girls were clever hostesses that catered to a man’s ego as much as his libido. If two such consenting adults decided to engage in sexual activities outside their roles as companion and customer, they were of course allowed to do so. Why stop at two in that case? And no one had ever turned their nose up at a tip. No, one would have to be a real hard ass to find fault in Madam Cho’s fine services. Or know a fifteen-year-old oriental girl from a small-framed eighteen-year-old one.

But that was what Ethan liked most about The Chink, honestly. Some men liked big boobs, some men liked firm and round asses, and they could have them all. Ethan liked androgyny. The younger they were, the more likely it was that the girls hadn’t developed breasts and hips yet and the boys weren’t covered in hair and sporting a prominent adam’s apple. He’d heard of pedophilia before, but as far as he could tell, that only really applied to adults. Even if they weren’t exactly sure how old Ethan was, they’d settled on age once he’d hit puberty himself and he’d gone off that estimation ever since, putting him at seventeen presently. He’d worry about his tastes in men and women next year.

Ethan opened the door to The Chink quietly, slipping his large black boots off at the door. He put on a large smile as he waited for his usual greeting with his arms outstretched. Just like every other time, every girl and boy without a customer flocked over to him, fawning over him like a prince as they led him over to his usual bed of pillows far away from the stage where the dancers waved apologetically at him with their fans. No one could blame them for their excitement. The lustful heir to a fortune had enough money and himself to go around. Ethan sat on his pillows with two girls kneeling before him, assisting each other in massaging his feet while another stood behind him, her nimble fingers finding every knot of tension in his back and shoulders. He knew he was the envy of every man in the room to have gotten such an enthusiastic response from the trained courtesans. Oh, but how hard it would be to pick the ones we wanted for the night out of such a lovely group.

Madam Cho whacked him over the head with her fan as she stood over him, her short body only inches taller than Ethan as he reclined. “E-tan! You glutton! You pick girl, not all girl!”

Rubbing the top of his head, Ethan smiled up at her. “Hey there, Miss Cho. You know it always takes me a minute to know what I’m in the mood for.”

The older oriental woman shook her head and motioned towards the girls attending her large customer. “You make brandy, not make goo goo eyes! Go!”

The two girls at his feet quickly ran off, heads ducked, while the one at his shoulders leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his broad chest. “Ethan, say you want me. It’s my turn after all. And I’ve been looking forward to seeing you for ages.” She swirled her hands into his hair, her nails gently raking across his sensitive scalp.

Ethan purred gently, smirking to himself. “Alright, you win. Miss Cho, I’ll take Ten-Ten here. But I’d like you to send out Phan, too, when he’s got a chance.”

Madam Cho shook her head in disappointment and took a seat across from him as Ten-Ten returned to her work, now under the scrutiny of her employer.

“How come no Genius Boy come too?”

“Phineas has his machines to work on. You’ll see him tomorrow at the buffet, though.”

“I see you, I no let you in. You both glutton.” Madam Cho’s face was very stern. “First eat all food, then take all girl. I don’t care your penis big as bus, you not boss of Madam.”

Ethan laughed loudly, leaning his head back and smirking at his attendant’s sultry features. “Ah, she’s only saying that because she wants me. What do you think?” He sat back up, leaning towards the old hostess. “Come on over here and gimme a hug.”

“No, no hug!”

Ethan wrestled himself out of his comfortable seat and pulled the older woman to his chest, though she fought and slapped him from the time he started after her until he let her go.

“You no listen! You not boss!”

“Oh you love me, Miss Cho. Don’t lie.” Ethan watched a faint smile perk the corners of her thin lips as she sat back in her seat, trying to regain the superior air she normally had about her. “I’ll give you a tip for the hug, that make us even?”

“You should work for me. Dat make us even.”

Ethan shook his head. “I don’t have it in me to be a pimp.”

“Bouncer, not pimp. My girls stay here.”

“Either way you spell it, I’m not interested. But, if I ever run out of funds, I promise you I’ll think it over real hard,” he lied. As consistent a patron of the erotic arts as he was, he had no intention of getting involved with them again in any fashion. Things like that always seemed to start out innocent enough and then ended up on the far side of the scale.

A round of brandy was set down on the table and Ethan smiled up at the errand boy who had become his fast favorite. Phan was an excellent example of the way things change with time. When Ethan had first seen him, he was a cashier in the restaurant. Within a few months he was serving drinks for The Chink and now he was a regular man-whore. Small-framed, cherub-faced, and meek, Phan had the most intoxicating “sexy face” Ethan’d seen on any of Madam Cho’s prostitutes. Ethan patted his lap and waited as Phan sat down on him and immediately began petting the crotch of Ethan’s jeans in an absent sort of manner while Ten-Ten’s fingers continues to scratch down his back.

“She got you doing any shows yet?” Ethan asked his favorite, smelling the spiced fragrance of his shampoo.

“No one want to see boy strip,” Madam Cho answered in his stead. “He give you nice private show.”

Ethan smiled to himself a little. He was always happy to hear his favorite boy toy was practically his on reserve. “Well, I’m sure Ten-Ten and I would enjoy that very much. I hope you’re not working tomorrow though because you sure as hell won’t be walking in the morning.”

Phan blushed and hid his face in Ethan’s chest while his hand went harder to work on the rising bulge in his client’s pants.

Madam Cho frowned. “You act dat way with Genius Boy too?”

Ethan shook his head, thinking back to the laboratory he’d left less than half an hour ago. “He doesn’t exactly let me. I don’t think the kid knows his cock from a screwdriver. And the screwdriver defiantly gets more attention than it or me.”

“You leave Genius Boy alone. He not interested, he not interested. No foul play.”

“I’m not going to rape him.” Ethan’s expression was sour as he kissed Phan’s forehead and moved him off his lap so they could rise. “Trust me, I’ve got better things to do then force myself on Phineas.”

Madam Cho still looked hard at him, her finger pointing at him in an accusing way. “You like Genius Boy, you not bang Phan instead. You wait and be like gentlemen. Otherwise, you let boy go and don’t bother him no more.”

Ethan smirked, putting an arm about each of his tempting treasures. “If I did that, you’d lose a customer.”

“You like big son. All this, no that,” she argued, pointing to his dick and head respectively. “Like your money, but like you more, E-tan. You be good boy and you be happy. Good boy no play here all night.”

Ethan looked at her oddly for a second, a foreign kind of warmth pulsing in his chest. He smiled slowly at her, feeling a little color rising in his cheeks. “You’re a Madam, not my mommy. I’ll keep it in mind though, Miss Cho.”

She shook her head at her giant patron and slapped him gently across his cheek twice. “Maybe you listen next time instead of hear. Go play.”

Nodding in compliance, Ethan took his two companions towards the back rooms set aside for late night fun. The warmth in his chest still lingered making him feel strangely giddy. It was more than just the anticipation of the frolicking escapades to be had. It reminded him of the feeling that left when Gabriel had died, a flicker of light in a place that was otherwise so dark one hardly noticed it at all. Someone was worried about him. Someone cared about him. He smiled to himself as he opened the door to his favorite suite and felt Ten-Ten and Phan precede him into the dimly lit room.

No caress, cuddle or copulation could compare to the gentle warmth inside him, though. Someone was thinking of him and as far as he was concerned, that was as good as it got.