8 Ball Roulette — B.J. Scott

Carl has the best disguise. He looks and acts like a man who would never come anywhere near the places he usually frequents. But he knows what he is doing. The nastier the place, the better the sex has been his experience. The bar he decides to try tonight offers the best of the worst. Bears are on the prowl here and Carl is what they call “sweet meat.” Turning on his usual charm, he quickly attracts a couple of predators, but Carl likes to play a little before he settles in for the night.

Excerpt:
Tark turned into the drive of a small rundown house and killed the engine. The three hairy friends piled out and Carl slowly followed.

“It's not much, but it's home. Take a load off, kid.”

Carl looked around the dark dingy place. There was stuff everywhere. It wasn't really dirty, just messy. They passed around another joint and this time Carl joined in.

“That's the spirit, kid.”

Tark's lover had disappeared at some point but it didn't seem to bother Tark.
“Hey, I get some of that,” he said. “Don't smoke the whole thing.” Then he turned to Carl. “DC can't seem to stay awake after a smoke. Just one and he's done. He went upstairs. It's just you, me, and the licker there.”