Percy thought the boy might be trouble, but he lived for risk.
He saw him in the gloom of a summer’s dusk, lingering around the tea stall in the corporation park. Then languidly he moved towards the toilet block, where he took out a cigarette and held it unlit elegantly between his fingers.
Percy thought he was mid-twenties. He was tall with broad shoulders and legs that did a lot of running.
His denims were short and tight, inviting admiration. His t-shirt hugged a well-defined chest. The boy’s intention seemed obvious.
Percy had been visiting the park for fifteen years, since he was himself a young man. Men came to meet men. Who got hurt? Nobody, Percy reckoned. What a pity it was illegal.
He watched the boy with his cigarette. Was he ever going to light the damn thing? A man exited the Gents and scrutinised the boy with lust. He walked slowly towards him, then stopped as if debating himself. He turned abruptly on his heels and strode off.
Percy located his matches and approached the boy. He rattled the box, ‘Want a light?’ The boy cupped the cigarette in his hands and sucked, then smiled suggestively. That was the encouragement Percy needed. ‘Come,’ he nodded towards a dark clump of trees, ‘Let’s go.’
The boy threw down his cigarette. ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of importuning for immoral purposes.’ Then he recited the requisite caution.
Percy spat on the ground. You win some, you lose some.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 