Joey stood there, mesmerized but frustrated, at the door of the guest bedroom in Keith Steven’s Los Angeles apartment. They’d been at the first segment wrap-up party of his new TV series, “Joey’s World,” a coming-of-age series on a fourteen-year-old’s adapting to a new school and new town when his parents are killed in an automobile accident and he goes across country to live with his spaced-out uncle’s disorganized family. The series was a takeoff from a Broadway play Joey Joyner had starred in based on a script that had been written parallel to the boy’s own circumstance.

Joey’s parents had been killed in an airplane accident and he’d gone to live with his single actor uncle, James Tallwood, who had gotten the play script written and on stage and who played Joey’s father in both the play and in this new TV series.

On the way to the party, James had advised Joey to be nice to the party’s host.

“He likes you. That’s quite evident and he’s told me so. We’ve got to fall in with the system out here in Hollywood,” James said. This is a “you scratch mine and I’ll scratch yours” environment. Stevens is an influential actor. He knows people who know people.

“So was New York,” Joey said, “a ‘you scratch mine and I’ll scratch yours’” deal. Joey was well aware what James did to get their play on stage.

“Yes, but not as much as out here. Out here the number one rule is to go along to get along. You’re lucky. Stevens is a real looker. You’ve got it better than I do.” Joey hadn’t found out what James meant about that until after the party had ended--well, the official party.

The party had pretty much broken up and Joey had, with a bit of embarrassment, broken away from talking with the party’s host, Keith Stevens, the audience “pull” actor in the TV series, a well-known name at twenty-six, who was playing Joey’s mentor teacher in his new school. Joey had jumped at the chance to play in the TV version with Keith Stevens, who was a real hunk, a heartthrob box office winner, who Joey had idolized. Joey had also had some other feelings for Stevens, which had been brought to the surface in their first filming together and which Stevens seemed to be fomenting. Perhaps it had been a mistake, Joey now thought, to have told his uncle about these feelings. His uncle had feelings like that and didn’t hesitate to act on them. Stevens’s talk with Joey in the living room of the apartment while the party goers were thinning out was, Joey thought, a bit too suggestive. But, at fourteen, Joey couldn’t really be sure of these things.

To extract himself from a possible situation--Stevens was already sitting close to him on the sofa and was touching him while talking to him in seductive tones--and seeing that the party was essentially over, Joey had risen from the sofa and gone looking for his uncle, James, playing his adoptive father in the TV series, for their ride back to their own apartment. In his early thirties, James was now Joey’s legal guardian. And, like the father in the TV series, he was a bit spaced out. He’d never had much to do with children before and couldn’t even remember if he’d ever been permitted to be an early teen like others had. He’d been bedded by an agent who gave got him parts in stage plays when he was Joey’s age, fourteen.

Standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom, Joey was seeing how spaced out James could get. Joey’s uncle was on his back on the bed, his shirt unbuttoned and open, his trousers bunched up on the floor beside the bed, his legs spread and bent, his feet flat on the surface of the bed, and the TV series’ director, the fifty-year-old, heavy-set Preston Dixon, trouserless, lying between James’s legs and fucking him. Dixon was holding James’s wrists extended above his head, was looking intently down in the actor’s handsome face, and was swaying above James’s body in long slides of his cock.

Joey knew that his uncle went with men and he knew that his uncle had made some deals with the devil with his body to get them to where they had gotten, from the Broadway show to this TV deal. He hadn’t known, though, that lying under a pudgy, old, not-so-great-looking Preston Dixon had been one of those deals. Joey knew what his uncle had had him, Joey, do to get this TV gig, and Joey blushed at the thought, but he hadn’t known that James had been working the system. That had just been touching and being touched while a producer was taking care of his own need--well mostly, he had to admit, at least to himself.

He didn’t know how long he would have stood there, watching James work at getting them in solid with a good director--James had said they wanted the best director they could get for the show and Preston Dixon was a very good director--but it wasn’t that long. Keith Stevens was behind him, pulling him away from the door, turning him and backing him up to the hallway wall, coming in close, and kissing him.

“Keith, no. Wait,” Joey said.

But the twenty-six-year-old hunky actor didn’t want to wait. He picked the much smaller fourteen-year-old Joey up in his arms like a groom carrying a bride to their marriage bed, carried him into the master bedroom, lowered Joey to the bed on his back, and came down on top of him. Joey couldn’t voice his objection, because Stevens was possessing his mouth in bruising kiss. But he didn’t know whether he would have objected even if he could speak. James had said this was important to both of them and Joey knew that he preferred men and that someday he’d start going with them.

Running in the back of his made were the two thoughts--James telling him to be nice to Keith Stevens and the thought that this could be the day.

The boy was no match for the man physically. It didn’t help that Joey had found the man attractive and arousing and had been struggling with his own sexuality.

Joey struggled, but ineffectually, as Stevens maintained possession of his mouth in a kiss, crouched over him, his knees between Joey’s spread legs, and, grasping both of Joey’s wrists with one hand, stretched over the boy’s head, used the other hand to strip off their trousers and then to fondle Joey’s cock until it started to engorge and then move his hand under the boy’s buttock and penetrate Joey’s hole with a finger and begin opening him up.

They came out of the kiss with Joey sputtering, “Keith, no, don’t, please. I’m sorry if I made you think ... I don’t ... I’ve never.” It wasn’t the strongest of pleas. Stevens was working his channel well with the finger, his kisses were melting, and Joey had been under the older, hunky actor in his imagination like this before.

“Please, baby, stop fighting me. Let me in,” Stevens cajoled. “I know you’ve done it before.”

“Please, not now, not yet.” The man was a hunk, and someday...

“That’s not a no. I know you do it,” Stevens growled. “I know you did it for Bradley Cohen.”

The bulb of his cock was pressing at Joey’s hole, poised to strike. Joey had still been struggling against it, trying to pressed his legs closed. At the invoking of Bradley Cohen’s name, though, he just stopped struggling and went docile.

A deal with the devil. They’d been out here from New York, pitching the TV series. There’d been meetings in the TV studio offices, attended by the key producer, Bradley Cohen. The talks had entered a crucial stage and could go either way. Cohen had asked that Joey come to his home for a private interview.

This is important, crucial to the deal, Joey’s uncle, James, had said. We need this deal. Cohen likes you. Do what you have to do to get him signed on.

Joey didn’t go to Cohen’s house innocently. James told him exactly what Cohen wanted. James drove him there. Cohen met him at the door, in a silk dressing gown. He said they were alone and told James he’d phone him when it was time to come back to pick Joey up. The interview was in Cohen’s bedroom. He sat on the bed and said he needed to see Joey naked--to know how much they would be able to see exposed in film shots. For the audience they needed situations to show the teacher and the father stripped down to the waist at least. There was some subtextual insinuation under the script dialogue. The producers wanted the show to pass the censors, but they wanted it to be a bit racy too. How much could they show of Joey too?

Trembling, Joey had done what he had to do for the TV deal. Cohen bent him over the bed, knelt behind him, and buried his face in Joey’s crack. This had never happened to the boy before, although he’d been thinking about it and had been open to it--eventually. He knew his uncle did it and he always seemed in the best of moods the day after he’d done it.

Cohen bent over Joey’s back, mounted him, grabbed Joey’s wrists and held them against the mattress above Joey’s head, pushed himself into Joey with difficulty but relentlessly, and, while Joey groaned and yelped and sobbed, fucked him.

It was Joey’s first time--and his last time before coming to Keith Stevens’s first filming wrap-up party--but he did what he had to do. They had gotten the TV series deal. Joey was barely fourteen, but he no longer a virgin to anal sex. And he’d had extensive experience in being covered by a man before he left Bradley Cohen’s house.