Nya Dut Novels & Stories

He said, "Done, just get here." I pressed the unlock button on the right side of my elbow. "I'll pick you up?" Aryo might need a ride, I already miss him again even though we haven't separated yet. "Sir Levi, wait at home. I won't run away." He showed me one of the cards I'd given him in his wallet organizer and took a few rupiah bills from my pants pocket. He had memorized the location so well that it wasn't even awkward to hear me moan against his touch. Just smelling his breath, I could already get aroused.

Oil stains on concrete, vintage exhaust in the air, and enough horsepower under the hoods to blow up authoritarian government in a small country. I waited next to a black Maserati that looked like it hadn’t forgiven the world for inventing traffic. Dutsy was late. was open. I had a tablet in one hand and a knife’s worth of purpose in the other. Dutsy walked in five minutes late. Still pale, still jittery—he was the type who apologized for existing and meant it. His shirt was buttoned wrong and his courage was on airplane mode. “You dragged me down here for this?” he asked, trying to sound annoyed and landing somewhere closer to constipated.