Sex was poured all over him. Tread stood in the doorway of the Sky bar, looking out on nothing in particular, drawing cooly on a cigarette. Tread. His mother had named him that because she said he was treadin’ on her time. She had started calling him that while he was still in the womb. “Hurry up, motherfucker and come on outta there; you’re treadin’ on my time,” she would say. “Bitch had a sense of humor,” Tread had said with a chuckle, in relating how he had gotten his name to one of his tricks.

Tread Allen Bouvier. He was from New Orleans; tall, six feet two, and 190 pounds of fine toned, well muscled flesh.  His face was smooth and caramel colored, with the shadow of a light mustache. His eyes were deep set, with a mixture of childlike wonder and soulful intensity. And with all that, he was cosmetically appealing in that place where “the girls” placed much importance.

Tread drew one more drag on his cigarette and plucked the butt into the gutter. He stretched and turned, and walked into the bar. No, he sauntered into the bar; his walk was definitely a saunter. Those long bowed legs, with a little dip to the left as he moved along. Not an affectation, it was the result of one leg being a little longer than the other due to a break in childhood.  He was like a royal entering court -- all eyes were on him and everybody knew him.

“What’s up, Tread,” “What’s happenin’,” “Hey, man;” the greetings went as he made his way slowly through the crowd. He found a spot at the end of the bar, a pony of Duff Gordon waiting for him as he sat down. He lifted the glass, nodded toward the bartender and took a sip of the sherry.  He took out another cigarette and lit up.

We were sitting in an unobtrusive corner booth near the door when Tread made his way into the bar. I was on the side of the booth that faced the door. Me, Gary and Billy had been talking when I noticed Tread in the doorway, and when they saw how I was concentrating on something else, they both turned to see what I was looking at, as Tread was plucking his cigarette and heading into the bar.

“Who is that? Billy was saying, just as the chorus of greetings began.

“I don’t know,” I said, “But that was quite an entrance.

“He’s gorgeous,” Gary said.

It was our first time in the Sky bar. Skelley knew the bartender and he let us come in even though he knew we weren’t of age. He just told us to be cool and let us sit in one of the booths.  Skelley had gone to the bathroom and was now returning, but stopped at the bar to speak to Tread before coming back to the table.

“Miss Skelley knows him!” Billy said excitedly. I got to meet that trade!”

After chatting for a minute with Tread, Skelley bought four beers and returned to the table.

“Who is that trade, chile? Billy asked, as Skelley set the beers in front of us and slid into the booth next to me.

“You can’t handle that,” he replied, taking a cigarette from the silver case he carried them in. “That’s Tread,” he continued, “And he’s a hustler.”

“A hustler, huh?” Billy said, “What does he hustle?”

“What do you want?” Skelley said, slowly exhaling the smoke. “Tread’s a pretty complex character; he makes his own rules. He’s cool if you know him, but he can be a snake. Like I said, though, you can’t handle him.”

“Humpf” Gary snorted, “I bet I could tame him.”

“Don’t you have your hands full right now?” Skelley said.

“There’s always room for one more.” Gary replied.

“Have you ever had him?” He continued.

“We messed around a little once when I first met him, but it was no big thing. I knew it wasn’t going anywhere because of his lifestyle. You want to meet him?”
Before Gary could answer, Skelley was turning around and motioning to Tread.

“Chile, I didn’t say I was ready yet,” Gary mildly protested. But Tread was already sliding off the stool and wal – no sauntering toward the booth. He was really hot looking, but the fact that he was a hustler was kind of a turn-off for me, yet I was still curious about this dark angel.  Billy was emitting a low, stifled squeal as he watched Tread approach. Gary started laughing at Billy’s reaction.

“Did I miss something funny?” Tread said, in a deep, bordering on raspy, voice, as he stopped in front of the booth. Gary just smiled, looking at Tread, and Billy became shy and flustered, lowering his eyes.