The Masculine Mutant Man: Old Hob

One of the guys who replied to my ad, which was looking for 'uninhibited mature mutant men' raised a handful of yellow flags over our email correspondence. He didn't say too much about himself and didn't seem too interested in the awareness I was trying to raise about mutant kind beauty, focused mostly on the pay. In truth, he may not have made the list at all but his apartment was only a 15 minute train ride from my place. It began to rain as I walked to the nearest subway station.

I arrived at the address he had given me, a pretty rundown tenement building on the side of the city where you probably don't want to spend a lot of your time. He buzzed me up and once I climbed the four flights of stairs to his apartment, he let me in and then grabbed us a couple of beers from his small kitchen. I offered to shake his hand but he just kinda looked at my outstretched paw and then asked where we wanted to do this. I took a few glances around his home and decided on the beaten-up couch on the opposite side of his living room. It wouldn't have been my first choice but the bedroom was worse.

His hands went right to his faded jeans as he undid and stripped them off, tossing them aside. The man wore nothing underneath them. He flopped down on the couch as I stood there, a little surprised. Usually there was at least a little small talk with my models, to get to know them a bit better, or put them more at ease. It seemed he was interested in neither.

"Uh, why don't you tell me a little about yourself before we take the pictures?" I suggested.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked. His voice was gruff, but not impatient.

" Well, Old Hob, that's an interesting name, how did you get it?" I asked.

"Some lady, used ta feed me out behind her shop, back when I was an alleycat. She called me that." He said with a shrug.

Truth be told I couldn't get too much out of him, and not for lack of trying. He listened while I spoke, told me a few things: That he lost his right eye in a fight with 'an old bastard of a rat' on the day he was mutated. He lit a cigarette while he slowly began to stroke himself hard as I took some snaps. He said he worked part time at Club M, a mutant-owned bar downtown I knew well, as a bouncer because it helped keep him sharp and fight-ready. A guy his age, I was surprised he needed to keep those skills so sharp! He also did some odd jobs here and there, which he wouldn't go into detail about. When I asked what he had done before now, he took a long drag and was quiet for awhile. I wondered if I had overstepped.

"I led a mutant uprising at one time." He said it so casually, considering.

"W-wow!" I said. "What was that like?"

He fell silent again, and then asked, "You need another beer?"

I suppose I shouldn't have expected too much more than that. I asked him to spread his legs for the camera. He complied, without so much as a second-thought. He watched me carefully while I worked, studied me really. I found his steady gaze kind of unnerving actually, but I have to admit, he has that sexy, silent, dangerous bit down. Not that I felt like I was in trouble just being there, but I could tell he had a lot of cards close to his chest. I wondered if there was anyone he'd let close enough to learn those secrets. 

He surprised me by asking, "Any ladies checkin' out this project of yours?"

"Maybe some, are you... Would you like that if there are? I'm doing this project mostly for men, as I said online." I explained.

Old Hob shrugged again. "Men, women, I ain't picky. Just curious."

He put out his cigarette and lit another, before returning to his slow jerking. I took more pictures. I thought about getting him out of his trench coat and shirt, but as the rain pelted his window and he breathed out a cloud of smoke, I felt I had gotten what I came for. That I had captured just a little of Old Hob, an image of a mysterious alleycat with a past. A man who I inexplicably wanted to both know more about, and keep my distance from.     

-Fido