HR-110 The Inquisition
The Inquisition
Hot Rods
HR-110
$3.95
The Inquisition
Hot Rods
HR-110
$3.95
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Excerpt
Too easy, Rod thinks, lying on his bunk, looking at the sagging mesh of the one above where another prisoner is also resting.
It makes no sense.
King did not get where he has by letting guys off the hook.
And yet—and yet.
It was like one of those anti-drug commercials on TV, where you just say no.
He just said no.
And now, here he is, his evening relatively free in the hours after supper and before lights out when the cell doors are open, the prisoners allowed to mingle.
Or read or play chess or whatever it is they want to do on “their own“ time, including simply rest.
So what? he reassures himself. So what if that was not the last word?
What if King, being a kind of politician, decides to persuade him further, to use arguments of logic, reason, even some twisted, perverted form of common sense?
Nothing he can say will convince me to go that route, Rod tells himself.
Push come to shove, he’ll pound his pud there in the darkness.
The wimp in the bunk above him will do nothing, say nothing, that’s for sure.
He could take him with one hand behind his back and his eyes shut.
For that matter, if Rod was “that way“, then he could have no better opportunity, would need no other partner than that one, with his pretty girl’s face and his slender build, serving time for man slaughter, having shot his live-in lover for reasons unknown to Rod.
One look and you just know the guy’s a fag.
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