The Lust Project 1.3

The streets of Lima  when the midnight is coming on are more fluent than at the peak hour. That has a disadvantage: getting public transportation, like Osmar uses to take for going to the theater to work or anywhere more than a mile distance, is a true odyssey. But the advantage is when you are picked up in a private car, you avoid the strucks.

“Anyway, you gotta consider fucking Escalante if he assigns you the role,” Evandro advises with his two hands driving the steering wheel.

“I get no hard-on neither with Alexis’ ass, that it’s also firm and muscled, the less I’m gonna have a hard-on with Escalante’s ass,” Osmar replies on the co-pilot seat.

“Have you touched it to him, hey, rascal?”

“No, I haven’t. But these pants he wore today did not looked the buttocks well.”

“The reason why I got my roles on the soap-operas, series, the TV-films, is I fucked him good, but, well, the CEO’s are a level above.”

“But you’ve got talent, evan. Why do you have to fuck a casting director?”

“I’m not white like you, I’m more tanned. Even if I were black, they’d choose me, but the shit TV in this country is so racist that you’re white or you’re black. Tanned are not allowed.”

“In my conttry, there are tanned actors and actresses…”

“But Venezuela is Venezuela, indeed, Osmar. Here in Peru, they didn’t take out these kinda-Mexican, kinda-Argentinian criteria. Dude, even in Colombia or Brazil, even in Miami, I could get a job.”

“Why didn’t you migrate?”

“With a wife, two kids, zero solid connections, and, well, that bad reputation they made me up, who would recommend me?”

“You need to remake your public relations.”

The auto arrives to the base of a building in a traditional mid-high-class residential bourh in Jesus Maria, and it comes into the parking lot. The engine turns off at least.

“Take my advice – or you fuck Escalante, or you won’t overcome that commercial.”

“If they call at me.”

Osmar and evandro come out the vehicle, take the elevator. When it reaches the eighth floor, evandro leavetakes.

“See you earlier at the gym.”

“It will take legs tomorrow,” Osmar blinks an eye. “Greetings to Laura.”

“Thanks,” his partner smiles.

Osmar continues up until the twelveth floor, and after the sliding door opens, he takes out his key, opens a fence, goes up to the roof. The view of Lima from that height is ghostly. The fog vanishes or hides many lights. He comes into a kind of service room beside the water tank, and he appreciates for the last time his camping bed, his suitcase that works like a closet, takes off all the clothes, and not forgetting to thank the heaven, he gets into the cold sheet and a double Tigre covertor. While he tries to conciliate the dream, remembers Escalante’s ass, handles the penis and the testicles, but he doesn’t get any erection. He sleeps, better.