Matchstick

How did Marty get past Biff's security downstairs? It was a good question. But definitely not one Marty was willing to answer if he didn't have to. The important thing was that he'd gotten back up to see Biff, as disturbing as it was that he'd been in a hot tub with two topless women.

Skinhead hadn't been on the lookout at the front (maybe he'd gone off to grab a bite or something), but 3-D and Match were there. Match. Match was the one who'd called him a little hothead. He was wearing a cowboy hat that made Marty want to roll his eyes.

"What are you doing back here?" Match chuckled.

"Look, I just want to talk to my," Marty grimaced, "dad."

3-D took his glasses off and started fiddling with them idly. "We're not supposed to do that," he said, eyeing Marty.

"What, are you horny?" asked Match, looking him up and down.

"What? Horny?" Marty scowled at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Yeah, he's kind of a slut," 3-D said offhandedly to Match.

"He's got two lady friends up there right now. In the hot tub." Match stuck a match from a packet on the front desk between his teeth. "There ain't room for you."

"No, no, I just want to talk," said Marty, getting increasingly uneasy. He wasn't sure what the two of them were trying to imply, but he thought he had a pretty good idea.

"So why should we let you up there? You have a good reason?" Match looked him up and down again, lascivious.

3-D grinned, slipping his glasses back on. "You're getting ideas."

"Maybe."

Marty swallowed.

Match beckoned him forward. "Come up to the twenty-sixth floor with us. Don't fight. Joey can hold down the fort when he gets back," he added to 3-D. When Marty didn't move, he barked, "You deaf, kid? Into the elevator. The quicker you start moving, the quicker you can go up and talk to Daddy."

Marty turned slightly to look behind him out the front doors. Finally, he sighed. He had to talk to Biff, and he guessed it was either get the hell beaten out of him or participate in something completely, completely unappealing. Turning back around, he located the elevator sign and started heading toward the direction the arrow indicated, jaw set.

"He's doing it." 3-D laughed. "He's actually doing it." He started after Marty, Match not far behind.

"Of course he is."

"You better make it quick, just a suck or something. Otherwise, Biff'll be-"

"Suspicious, yeah." Match reached for Marty's hair, pulling it away from his forehead a little, looking into his eyes. "He's got his old man's eyes."

Marty jerked away from the touch. "And his old lady's attitude," 3-D grinned. He gave Marty a push into the elevator that arrived first.

"I hear they have a lot of homos in Switzerland," Match said, still watching Marty.

Marty grimaced again. "I'm not a-!"

"Like hell you aren't. I've seen you bend over for it myself."

Marty closed his eyes against a couple lewd snickers and that particularly gut-wrenching image, only opening them when the elevator finally reached its destination. He was filled with a severe sense of dread. He wasn't sure whether them having seen him do humiliating things before would make this less humiliating or more humiliating. Apparently, Biff was some kind of pervert who got off on having fun with his underaged stepchildren, or at least one of them.

"I think we have a camera in the room still, don't we, Match?"

"Yeah, I think so. What for?"

"Evidence. Something that doesn't get you-know-who in trouble, but oughta keep the brat in line."

"Keep me in line? I don't care," Marty said, trying to keep the shakiness from his voice. Of course he cared. "You can't blackmail me."

"You know the sentence for this kind of stuff, kid. Don't be an idiot."

"No, what is it?" Marty said as if being defiant. Really, he just wanted to know what he was dealing with.

Match and 3-D stopped in front of a particular door, which Match unlocked. "25 to life." He cupped Marty's ass through his jeans, eliciting a yelp and the darkest glare from the little hothead before 3-D shoved him into the room.

"You can show us how Daddy does it if that would make you more comfortable," 3-D snickered.

Marty looked around, sighing as Match turned his lusty gaze on him. "Let's just get this over with. And make it fast."

"I think we'll have to, for now. Then, after you talk to your dad, we can . . . gather more evidence, so to speak." Marty winced as Match's hand cupped his cheek and traced it.

Marty'd never felt dirtier in his entire life as he washed his mouth out in Match's bathroom. 3-D had snapped a picture or two, as promised, while Marty had degraded himself for the good of 1985. He pushed his way past a smirking 3-D, flinching at the smug look on the face of the satisfied, half-naked Match sprawled out in a chair.

He shook it off, though. He shook it off. He had to figure out the where and when of Biff giving his younger self the Almanac. There was no way he'd make it here, or in Switzerland, or wherever. More importantly, there was no way his mom would make it, and she didn't deserve this shitty existence.

He gave a wry smile on his way to the stairs to head to the 27th floor and talk to Biff. He'd never thought he could help his mom out by giving a guy a blowjob. No, that was a new one, for sure.