Sometimes, Jack’s daredevilry can get him in hot water. He’s seen the signs posted around the concrete courtyard of the high rise a hundred times. “No loitering. No skateboarding.” Blah, blah, blah. If they didn’t want people skating here, they shouldn’t have made it so inviting. Jack grinds his board to the end of a handrail and notices a burly guy in a suit watching him with hands in his pockets.

Feeling bold from the pumping adrenaline, Jack approaches the figure and says, “See something you like, old man?” Jack’s bold provocation is purely bluster and such talk is far more effective when his friends are around. Before Jack is within arms reach, suited security guards seem to manifest out of the casual passersby and flank the man. The man raises a hand dismissively and the guards withdraw. The man beckons Jack forward, a gentle smile on his face.

“You have skill,” the man says in a thick, German accent. “I’ve seen you here before.” Jack looks the man up and down; expensive leather shoes, the sheen of silk in his suit, thick chains nestled in his chest hair; and… is that a key hanging from one of the chains? Not a regular door key, but an ornate looking thing, strung on the chain as if for safe keeping. As strange as that is, the man is exactly the type Jack fantasizes about propositioning him from an expensive car. Jack’s throat is bone dry and he’s suddenly keenly aware of his virginity.