Devils Island

Doug liked to break the law. He might have stolen David's heart. Photos by David Hurles

By David Hurles

As I was remembering some of these men, my mind wandered and I found myself wondering just which one of the thousands I might hope to accompany me if I were banished to Devils Island, but permitted a single companion. (I didn’t question whether the companion would have had any input in the matter.) The usual suspects, the stars of 40 years, all crossed my mind, but roaring up from nowhere was this man from the beautiful spring of 1983, Doug Stevens. He seemed an unremarkable man at first, but when he was gone, the memory lingered. He was just about 5’7”, and 150 Indian brown hot blooded pounds. He was born in 1953, so he would now be over 50, although he was just a lad of about 30 back then. His rap sheet ran from San Jose to Long Beach, from attempted murder (dismissed), vehicle thefts, various shades of disorderly conduct, to presenting false identification.

Details aside, I remember the solid feel of his body, how his more than adequate throbbing member got as hard as a rock, as needed, and even though he only did what he was led to do, he followed where I led, did as he was asked and did it with enthusiasm. A man of few words, those few were all that were required. Doug was quietly self-confident. He understood that we’re all made up of parts, and he knew the value of those parts, his parts, my parts. He had remarkable stamina, endurance. This man planted a little seed, and then was gone. The seed has grown. Although many could make the eternity of the island bearable, this man would make it agreeable.

Excerpt from "Old Reliable's Prince Charming Might be on Death Row". Box Magazine, Issue 6.2