Inside The Mind of a Writer: My Characters are Real – Shaw As Gil

I told of my real life encounter with one of the handsomest men I ever knew named Shaw. He eventually served as the basis for a character, Gil, in my novel, “The Czar of Wilton Drive,” available on “Czar” is the story of Jonathan Antonucci, a 21 year old, barely out-the-closet gay man from suburban New York who overnight finds himself a multi-millionaire, thanks to a bequest by his late gay great uncle. Uncle Charlie has unexpectedly died of a heart attack, leaving him the sole owner of several of the most successful bars in Wilton Manors, Fort Lauderdale’s gay ghetto. Flying down to Lauderdale to claim his bequest, Jon encounters Uncle Charlie’s dubious friends and business associates. In this scene he meets Gil, manager of one of Uncle Charlie’s bars, the Gear Shaft,” modeled after Lauderdale’s infamous leather bar, the Ramrod …

The Gear Shaft was a mile from the heart of the Wilton Drive action in a dingier part of town and, from outside, the place looked like a shack. It reminded Jon of the Black Maria, that clumsy, boxy garage that Edison had built as the first movie studio which Jon had visited in West Orange as a kid on a class field trip.

The difference was this shack didn’t make movies but almost a million dollars a year.

The large wood door, out of some medieval castle with an oversize metal handle that was actually a pull down bar from a gym, was unlocked. A slightly beat up, fading green Ford Fiesta was the only car in the front lot besides his. He figured it was Gil’s.

Jon walked into a dumpy looking bar all painted in black just like the outside, with old car parts, mufflers and fenders hanging from the ceiling. Behind the bar was an average height, well-built guy somewhere, Jon guessed, in his late thirties, with short cropped black hair and beard, wearing tight Levi’s and a black T that look like they had been sprayed painted on him.

But, oh, that handsome black Irish face. He and Ernie, Jon’s jerk-off buddy back East, used to judge guys’ looks and bodies like the two of them were commodity traders, tin for the losers, silver for up-and-comers, and gold for the stars that made them stiff in an instant.

This guy, he was platinum.

He was fiddling around with some glasses when he saw Jon and beamed a broad smile like a laser gun.

“Hey buddy,” he said, walking around to shake Jon’s hand, clutching it like he was lifting a barbell. “I’m Gil.”

First Marcos, one of Uncle Charlie’s fuck buddies, now Gil. Two beautiful men all in in less than twenty four hours. Jon couldn’t believe his luck.

“I know you probably heard this a hundred times by now…”

“Yea, I’m the spitting image of my uncle. Yea, I’ve heard it, but only about a dozen times.”

“Well, this is it, the golden shit hole as Charlie always called it,” Gil rattled on, “but it means a lot to the guys who come here. Believe it or not, this place is one of the last hot leather bars left in the country. We got our local boys, but the ones who love us the most are the tourists from all over the states and Europe, even Australia. You see, in most places, the leather scene guys like your uncle’s generation practically invented is dying faster than landline phones. Seems like the younger guys…”

“You mean guys my age.” added Jon.

Gil laughed. Jon was getting hard again and his PA was straining against his crotch.

“Well, the twenty and thirty somethings are into sports jock gear. They feel they look hot. But for guys like Charlie and me, leather is a life statement, not a fashion statement. It means you don’t take shit, like your sex rough, and live life on the edge. A lot of stand-up guy bars are losing that edge to twinks and their girlfriends ‘cause, in the end, it’s all about selling the booze. Charlie, though, saw it different, He bought the bar at a fire sale, the two daddies who owned the place were both sick and wanted out, and he was about ready to start a strict dress code on the weekends. If you weren’t wearing some kind of leather, you didn’t get in. Which would automatically cut out the girls and the toy boys.”

“You mean young kids like me again,” said Jon grinning.

“No, not you, buddy. I’m sure you look hot in leather.”

“Never got into it. You might say I’ve been content to just play the web and jerk off. At least up to now.”

Gil reached over and pulled up Jon’s T-shirt.

“Furry like your uncle. Yep, you’d look good in leather, buddy, damn good.”

“Well then you’re gonna have to outfit me sometime,” said Jon.

“If you don’t mind me asking, you a top?”

“You mean the guy who fucks? Well, I never thought about it. I mean, like I said, I’ve always played the web so…”

“In this life, in this town, you gotta decide what you are, what you want, a top or a bottom. Guys in the gray zone go nowhere.”

With that, Gil walked Jon around the bar to its pool table area with cartons of beer stacked practically to the ceiling, to the narrow outside patio bar which looked like a junkyard in the naked midday sunlight.

“At night, don’t matter how warm and sticky it gets, guys are packed out here shoulder to shoulder, grabbing crotches and nips, and a few other things, but we’ve got Bernie, our bouncer and one-man penis police, to watch they don’t turn this into a backroom. After all, you don’t wanna lose your liquor license just because two guys wanna get off.”

“So,” asked Jon, proud of his growing ballsiness, “did you and my uncle ever make it?” He remembered Gil’s name from the text messages on Uncle Charlie’s phone.

“Yea, we did,” replied Gil without skipping a beat as he showed Jon the back walk-in cold locker where they stored the beer for the night. “Hey, Charlie is, I mean, was a handsome older guy who sure as hell didn’t look or act like a guy in his sixties. But when we were on duty, we were all business.”

After another hour of talking inventory and staffing and mark-ups, Gil was talked out.

“Anything else I can show you for now?”

“Yea,” Jon laughed. “How I’d look in leather.”

“Why not? If you like, we can go to my place. It’s just around the corner. I’ve got plenty of shit you can try on til you find your look.”

They both left their cars, Jon’s BMW and Gil’s Fiesta, and walked over to Gil’s place which was on a cruddy looking street just behind the bar in a small dilapidated guest cottage hidden away in the back of a faded orange stuccoed ranch.

The studio apartment inside was a penitentiary cell pigsty, furnished with thrift shop furniture rejects and littered with half empty Gatorade bottles and Twinky wrappers. It was as alien to Uncle Charlie’s lush condo as the Amazon Rain Forest was to the farthest frozen moon of Pluto.

Gil walked over to a closet, pulled back some shower curtains, grabbed a wad of black leather duds and threw them on his air mattress bed.

“Hey, boss, strip, will ya, so I can see what works best with your body type.”

Jon did so hesitantly but more than willingly. He almost never wore underwear and his semi-hard PA’ed cock popped out of his levis like a jack-in-the-box as soon as he lowered them.

Gil gave Jon’s cock a quick, adoring glance, then returned to sorting the pile of cowhide lying on his bed.

“Nice touch,” he quipped. “I thought you said you never did leather before.”

“Well, I mean…”

“Your PA and nose ring and all that sexy dark fur, just like Charlie’s, are a good start. But I wanna make you a real leather man, not just one of those twenty somethings who wear it to look hot,” and with that Gil stripped off his sprayed-on black T to reveal a very furry muscular chest, shoulders and defined veiny arms. As he turned to grab a piece off the bed, Gil glimpsed a large blue, red and green winged eagle tattoo sprawled against the full length of his powerful shoulder blades.

Gil raised Jon’s arms up in the air, then yanked some kind of corset-like contraption over his arms, pulled it snugly down over his shoulders and snapped it in place.

“What do you call this?” asked Jon, feeling confined, yet suddenly very aroused as the leather strips bonded to his body.

“A bulldog. But remember, it’s not how you look in it, it’s how’s you feel. Here, turn around.”

“Suddenly Jon was gazing in front of a cracked wall length mirror at himself. He always thought he was a bit chicken chested but this, this bulldog applied downward pressure in just the right places so his little boy nips popped out and his chest looked like he’d just done a thousand reps on one of those gym masters. His dick tingled like it did when Ernie suddenly discovered some new hairy daddy on Grinder.

“So how do you feel Boss?” asked Gil, “I mean really feel?”

“Like I could fuck half the men in Lauderdale right now,” blurted Jon.

“And kick the shit out of the rest of ‘em, huh?”


Gil tossed a black leather jockstrap on the floor in front of him.

“Slip this on.”

Jon was relieved to have something to cover up his quickly rising erection.

Gil walked over and adjusted the straps on the back, then gave Jon a playful slap on his right ass cheek.

“Those furry buns are the perfect added touch. I’d say you’re all ready for tonight.”

“Tonight?’ asked Jon puzzled. “But Mr. Applebee is holding that memorial reception tonight for my uncle at his place at 7…”

“You mean the Celebration of Life gig of Eddie’s? That’s what I’m talkin’ about Boss. I think you know now your uncle was a tried and true leather man and he would joke that he wanted everybody he knew to come to his wake as if they were headed for the Gear Shaft on a Saturday night. So…”

“So, no formal wear, no ties or button down shirts,” said Jon. He had planned on wearing his black jeans and a tan polo.

“No, maybe just a few thick heavy belts. Yes sir!”

For a micro second their eyes met, Jon staring at half naked Platinum Man, Gil at his young, near naked superior, then just as quickly, they both turned away.

“I need to get going,” announced Jon. “Got to get a nap in or I’ll end up falling asleep at Applebee’s, I mean Eddie’s, and I wouldn’t wanna be the party pooper.”

As he began to unsnap the harness, Gil, seeing him struggle, came over to help him.

“You can hold on to this if you like. You wear that tonight and I promise you’ll be adopted as somebody’s boy in twenty minutes.”

“Yea, but…”

“Yea, I know, it’s you, Rich Kid, who should be doin’ the adopting.”

At the Celebration of life for Charlie, Gil seduces Jon and brings him back to his place …

“So get comfortable,” said Gil as the two of them strolled into his studio, just as messy as the day before. “Gotta hit the head.”

Jon lay down on the air mattress, not knowing quite what to do or what to expect. All he knew is what he wanted.

The bathroom door was wide open and from his angle, Jon was able to see Gil in the vanity mirror. Pulling his mesh T off, he admired himself for a moment, then opened a drawer, pulled out what looked like a needle and stuck it very carefully in a vein of his arm. Jon watched the sudden rush on his face. Then as he turned to come out, Jon readjusted himself on the bed. Everything was so fast, Jon had no time to react to the moment. All that came immediately to his brain was the image Uncle Charlie had painted of his parents lying on that bed with needles sticking out of their arms.

Should he get up and leave?

Should he say anything?

Instead, Jon did nothing, waiting for the next cue from Gil.

“So you wanna smoke some stuff?” asked Gil casually as he reached over for a glass pipe. “You smoke before?”

“Grass, My j-o buddy Ernie and I would smoke a reefer before we started flipping through those profiles on Growl’r.”

“Same shit,” said Gil, holding a lighter under the glass globe of the pipe. “Just gives you a better high.”

Gil took a long puff, then handed the pipe over to Jon.

“Now move the globe back and forth a few times as I hold the lighter under it, take in a long puff, hold it in just a second or two, then let it out.”

Jon breathed in, then exhaled. Within seconds, a feeling of super-sensitivity enveloped him.


“I told you this stuff was better than grass.” Gil took a puff, placed the pipe down in an ashtray on a plastic patio table that served as a bed stand, then reached over and, as he pressed his lips against Jon’s, he exhaled into his mouth.

Jon fell flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he felt Gil’s fingers embrace every inch of him. It was as if an electric charge was pulsating through him wherever Gil touched, first stroking the hairs on his chest down to his abs, then his crotch. Then he lay on top of him and began rubbing their beards against one another in some ritual dance.

Gil was the most beautiful man he had ever seen and now he was his. Totally, completely, forever his.

Within minutes, Gil had slipped off his jeans and pulled off Jon’s so the two of them lay there naked.

“Want this off?” said Jon, tugging at his bulldog harness he was still wearing.

“No, buddy, leave it on. You are so hot, fucker, and I’m not saying that just because you’re my boss. You’re just like Charlie. Only better.”

“How, how can I be better. Uncle Charlie knew so much more about all of this than I do. I feel like some country hick.”

“You won’t after today,” said Gil who began eating him up like a piece of hard candy he had just unwrapped. Jon could feel Gil’s massive cut cock, bigger than even Growl’r’s Hairy Aussie’s, digging against his abs. Then, after playfully sliding Jon’s PA around in his fingers through his pierced hole, Gil stuck Jon’s hard dick in his mouth, savoring it like a slow melting ice pop. He moved to Jon’s ball sac, swallowing each ball one at a time, tugging on them as Jon felt Gil’s tongue as they lay nestled in his mouth. He raised Jon’s legs in the air and darted the tip of his tongue in and out of his butthole.

Jon was on another planet.

“Hairy butt, love that,” murmured Gil. He lowered Jon’s legs back to the bed and suddenly bolted up on his knees, his dick twitching up and down like some toll gate in holiday traffic.

“OK, boss, now show me what I taught you.”

Just then he reached for the pipe.

“Want some more?”

“Shit yea,” said Jon positioning himself so his face was inches from Gil’s naked manhood. Two puffs later, he was devouring Gil’s tool like as if he had been doing it for years.

Uncle Charlie would have been proud of his queer nephew. Ernie would have thought he was crazy.

But he noticed Gil starting to go soft in his mouth.

“Am I doing it right?”

“Perfect, Boss, just perfect, my dick feels won-der-ful.”

It was then that Jon noticed his own cock going down a bit. This had never happened to him before. Even though it felt ten feet long.

“I think it’s time for your advanced course in a little kink,” said Gil and he reached over to the side of the mattress to retrieve a length of cord which he tied around Jon’s balls and then his own. Only a few feet of cord separated their sacs, but ever so slowly he began to stand up on the bed.

“Fucken hot,” said Jon, five light years from earth by that point as he watched their balls giggle in midair.
Jon’s cock itched to spurt, though he was wondering where his erection was going. Gil untied the cord on his balls, lowered himself back down to the bed and took a heavy drag on the pipe, blowing the smoke directly on Jon’s cock.

Instantly, Jon felt the tingle throughout his tool and Gil immediately swallowed his cock for two minutes before sliding it into his hairy butt hole. With that Jon exploded inside Gil and they both lay on the bed, smelly and spent.

“So how ya feeling Boss?” asked Gil smugly licking the sweat off Jon’s chest.

“I don’t know—I—I’ve never felt this way before…”

“Next time I want you to tie me up while you fuck me.”

He pressed his mouth to Jon’s ear.

“Oh, and by the way, welcome to Fort Lauderdale.” Then he placed Jon’s still dripping cock in his hand and gave it a kiss.

For a while they just lay there, side by side, Jon’s eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, counting every water stain and dust mark. Usually after he came with Ernie, both of them would take a fifteen minute power nap. But now he felt like he could run the New York Marathon.

“Why don’t we hit your place? said Gil.

“But I’m fine right here…”

“I mean your other place, the Gear Shaft. It’s underwear night. Should be festive.”

Jon scanned the barren room. Gil got up, grabbed a package of Twinkies from the kitchen shelf, unwrapped it and tossed one to Jon.

“Gil, what were you doing in the bathroom when we first came in?”

Gil grinned like a kid caught by his mother jerking off.

“Whata ya mean?”

“I couldn’t help seeing you in the mirror—you were using a needle…”

“Slamming, boss, just slamming,” answered Gil matter-of-factly.

“What’s—what’s that?”

“You know the stuff we just smoked?”


“And how good it made you feel?”

“Sure, I’m still in fucken heaven. With you.”

“Well, if you use a microwave to liquefy it and then inject it into your arm, it works that much faster, that’s all. That’s slamming.”

Jon fiddled with his nose ring.

“So, you wanna give it a try? Make the way you feel now like a walk in the park compared to traveling to the moon.”

“But Gil, my folks, they—they died of a heroin overdose. They found them with the needles still in their arms…”

Gil started laughing uncontrollably.

“Shit, boss, it ain’t near anything like Big H. Hey, you ever take speed?”

“Sometimes, when I was out all night and had to work the following morning.”

“That’s all this is. Speed in the fast lane.” Gil ran his hand across Jon’s chest.

“So wanna give it a try before we hit the road?’

Jon gave a hesitant nod. All he thought as Gil was getting the stuff ready in the bathroom was how maybe he was one of those addictive personalities they talked about on Dr. Phil, that he had inherited his parents’ habit and was destined for this moment anyway. After all, if anyone could be an addict it was him. He didn’t have to work or worry about the money. He had all the money in the world now and wouldn’t have to work another day in his life.

“Make a fist,” said Gil as he looked for a vein. He hadn’t even finished injecting the liquid magic into his arm when a sudden, total rush of heat coursed throughout Jon’s body. It was like that sudden blast of heat Jon felt as he got off the plane in Fort Lauderdale airport. Only a thousand times squared.

Then he grabbed Gil tightly and began kissing him until their tongues had no place else to go.

“Hey lover,” murmured Gil.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” was all Jon could say as he fell to the bed. “Next time I want you to fuck me Gil, I want to know what it’s like to fucked by a man. I want you to stare into my eyes and fuck me…”

“You know I’m an obedient employee,” said Gil as he straddled Jon, grabbed his soft cock and paired it with his own, stroking them slowly in his hand. Then, still holding onto them, he leaned over and nestled his nose in Jon’s armpit and washed the stench away with his tongue.

“Fuck you Gil, fuck you,” Jon repeated over and over again. “Get on top of me,” and as Gil did, he dug his hands into the eagle tat on Gil’s back and held him against him like a vise.

All those years jerking off over guys’ pictures with his stupid, backward buddy when he could have had this.

This time it was Jon exploring Gil, his strong chest, firm abs and hairy thighs, then he mouthed his cock and balls for what seemed a lifetime, his own equipment tingling with each lick.

“Turn over, man.” he whispered.

Gil lay spread eagle, his powerful shoulder muscles pulsating in the dim light as Jon outstretched his arms across Gil’s hairy back and kissed his furry ass cheeks, gently, ever so gently guiding his nose, then his tongue deep into Gil’s warm butthole, matting the hairs around it.

“Beautiful, you—you are so beautiful,” Jon kept murmuring. “I can’t get enough of you, fucker. My beautiful, beautiful teacher. My beautiful, beautiful man.”