Chapter Six
Wes
For most of my life I’ve felt completely out of place. Never as out of place as I feel right now, standing inside the entrance of Dance!, Belle Argo’s only gay club.
I’m wearing my only pair of jeans and one of the few T-shirts I haven’t worked out in. Granted, I don’t wear the shirt to work out because it’s too tight. I should get rid of it. It’s uncomfortable, the way it digs in under my arms.
The place seems crowded for a weeknight. The dance floor is fairly full. I’ve got no plan here. It’s my night off, and the decision to come was spur of the moment. Probably should’ve turned around in the parking lot.
Making my way to the bar, I nearly trip over my own feet. “Bottle of Dogfish Head if you have it.”
The bartender, a pretty, petite young woman wearing light-up fairy wings, nods and disappears. She’s back a few minutes later to pop the bottle and hand it to me, and I settle against the scarred wood with nothing better to do than observe.
The place is filled with a mix of pretty people, most of them looking young enough to make me feel like a criminal.
On one side of the room, what appears to be a bridal party has taken up most of the tables.
Or sorority girls? They’re all wearing tiaras and sashes.
There’s a sign for the bathrooms across from me, under which two young men are making out.
A couple of go-go boys dance under flashing lights on a side stage, wearing nothing but leopard-print shorts. I could do my laundry on either of their abs, but I don’t feel turned on so much as envious. Even as much as I work out, my days of looking that good in shorts are probably behind me.
Thanks to my complete lack of social skills, the only person I ever even dated was my roommate’s sister after college. Then I got her pregnant, and I married her. Aside from Gina, I’ve got no other sexual experience unless I count Adam and Troy.
Well… I guess I do have to count them. They’ve both put their hands or mouths on my dick. They’ve both kissed me. I’m blaming Troy for the fact that I needed to pinch my nipple to come the last time I jerked it in the shower.
I scan the dance floor, looking for…what? Someone I find attractive, I guess? It’s not a matter of wanting to hook up. I wouldn’t know where to begin.
It would be nice if I could see something, anything, that would give me a definitive answer. Yes, you’re definitely into men , or no, you’re really not . Ideally, something that explains why I keep letting these two guys, who are nearly young enough to be my students, back me into corners.
“This is stupid,” I tell myself halfway into my beer.
It’s just, well, I’m forty-two. How have I made it this far in life not realizing I might be attracted to men? The only explanation I can think of is that I never considered it a possibility. At all.
Gina got pregnant the second time we had sex. We got married. That was supposed to be the end of my sexual exploration.
Even after I suspected her of cheating, I never considered doing the same. Holding two jobs and trying to mind my health after cancer treatments kept me plenty busy.
Someone bumps me from the right. A strange, sweaty chest swipes against my shoulder as I’m busy mopping beer off my shirt.
“Sorry, man.” The perpetrator of the hit-and-run is already disappearing into the crowd as he tosses his apology over his shoulder.
The muscles in his back are retreating, leaving me uncertain whether I’m experiencing physical attraction or simple appreciation. They’re nicely defined muscles. The jaw I caught a glimpse of was a little big.
Which reminds me that Troy’s nose hooks a little to the left. Has he broken it at some point? It’s not a stretch to imagine him getting into a fight. His mouth could easily start one.
Is there something about Adam and Troy specifically? Is it men in general? So far, I don’t see anyone in here who really gets my motor going. I guess the two guys kissing under the restroom sign are nice to watch.
I’d check out porn, but that’s challenging in Florida. Due to current state laws, most of the major streamers no longer allow people here to access their sites. Not that I’ve checked everywhere. Something about endlessly searching the internet for porn access feels too sad even for me.
Mostly I’ve stuck to watching the stuff already downloaded to my computer, and most of that was your standard rough fucking boy/girl shit. A few gang bangs. Nothing that tells me anything deep about myself, aside from an obvious interest in sex that’s maybe…not so polite?
“My, aren’t you a big one. I’d love to climb you like a tree.”
My brain stutters as I look down to find a man who appears even younger than Troy and Adam staring up at me. Even seated on a barstool, he isn’t tall enough to look at me eye to eye. He’s cute, I guess. Highlighted blond hair, glittery face. Crop top.
Twink, my brain supplies.
Is that right? I’d have to ask my brother. Or look it up. Neither of which I’m going to do right now. Nor am I about to ask.
Hey, not to be rude, but I’m trying to determine where I lie on the Kinsey scale. Also, would you refer to yourself as a twink?
The young man sidles up next to me. “You must be new here. Buy me a drink?”
I glance around. If I buy him a drink, he might think I’m interested. If I don’t, I’ll feel like I’m being rude. Ultimately, I signal the bartender. Luckily, it’s too loud in this place to hear the sobbing coming from my credit card.
“Thanks,” the kid says after he orders. He turns to me with his elbow propped on the bar and his cheek on his fist. “So. New in town? Tourist?”
I swig my beer. “Neither. Been in town for eight years. Just never came in here before.”
“Ah.” His expression turns knowledgeable. “Divorced?”
“How’d you guess?”
He thanks the bartender for handing over something bright red and garnished with pineapple. “Aside from your complete discomfort and the way you keep looking around as if you’re expecting to get caught?” He taps one of his fingers on one of mine. “Wedding ring tan line.”
“Right.” I’m sure I’m making a face right now. “Stopped wearing it a couple of months ago, but the line is taking forever to go away. Guess I need to spend more time outside.”
Just like that, I think I might be flirting with a guy who wasn’t even born yet when I graduated college.
“Poor guy.” He pouts sympathetically, then thrusts his hand out. “I’m Bryce.”
All at once I’m overly concerned about the salad I had before I came here. What if there’s spinach stuck between my teeth?
“Wes.” I shake back. “Nice to meet you.” For no real reason, I run my tongue over my teeth.
Look, Mom, I’m making friends .
Fuck my mom right now. Fuck Gina.
“So tell me about this ex of yours, Wes. What’s his name? Is he crying himself to sleep over losing you?”
Another drink. A long one. “Her name is Gina, and I don’t think so. She’s moving in with our boss.”
Bryce shakes his head, biting his pineapple wedge while plunking his empty glass on the counter. “That’s absolutely fucking tragic, Wes.”
Here I’d always thought it was somewhat depressing, but Bryce is upping the ante. Not sure if I feel seen or embarrassed.
He slaps his hand on the bar top. “Come on. I know what you need.”
Before I can make heads or tails of the situation, he’s dragging me toward the dance floor.
“Oh, no, no, no.” I dig in my heels. “Sorry. I don’t dance.”
I absolutely cannot dance. Accidentally stepping on Gina’s dress and tearing the train at our wedding dissuaded me from ever trying again. The closest I get these days is swaying side to side a little when Rihanna’s “SOS” plays. Which is still embarrassing. But how can you not dance to Rihanna?
Except as I close my eyes and let the music wrap around me, I can feel Adam’s tongue sliding over my lip. Troy’s mouth hot against mine. His fingers brushing and then bruising my nipples. I blink and then close them again, letting the drumbeats and sense memories wash over me.
Am I addicted to them, is that it? Or is it more like a bruise I can’t stop prodding?
Bryce puts his hands on my hips. “Come. On. I’ll do all the work. All you gotta do is stand there and look handsome.”
For the first time in a while, I laugh. “My ex said that about our wedding, and then I was forced to participate in ‘The Time Warp.’”
Bryce either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care.
He gives me a goofy grin and drags me farther onto the polished wood floor.
Before long, he’s dancing around me, looking as shiny as the lights above us, while I awkwardly sway to the music.
In a weird way I wish he did something for me, because he seems nice. And fun.
Self-consciousness aside, I’m almost enjoying myself. There’s a song playing I haven’t heard before. Something with heavy drums and lyrics about being addicted to someone’s touch.
Tingles skate over the tops of my bare arms, and I try not to think about how I’ve been chasing the dragon ever since the day Troy touched me in that locker room.
My cock begins to fill, which it always seems to do when I revisit those memories. Whether I want it to or not.
Slim hips press against mine. Hands brush up my arms, teasing gently at the hair at the base of my skull and then moving downward. I may not be particularly attracted to this guy, but I can’t deny it feels nice. It feels like someone wants me.
Maybe if he were a little bigger. Stronger. Rougher. Longer hair and darker lashes, or bluer eyes and shorter hair. Both.
Both .
Still, it’s impossible not to respond to the way he’s grinding against me. My skin heats and my balls ache. There’s a certain rush in the way this young man is looking up at me as if he might actually find me attractive.
Am I turned on by this particular person in front of me? Or am I simply touch starved and liking the friction?
Relaxing into the dance some, I try to let my body go loose and my hips move a little. Bryce smiles up at me, and I sort-of manage to smile back. People bump into us from all sides. Which is probably why I don’t realize someone has grabbed my arm until they yank me right off the dance floor.
“What the fuck do we have here, Adam?” Out of nowhere I’m sandwiched between two familiar bodies. Troy narrows his eyes, pushing one long finger into the center of my chest. “Did you come out here to hook up, Kitten?”
Bryce seems to have disappeared into the crowd again. Any chance I can do the same?
“No!” Okay, that sounded like way too much protesting. In my defense, all my blood seems to be pooling at my feet. I clear my throat and try again. “No. I wanted to see…”
Am I really into men, or did you guys short-circuit my motherboard?
Frustration pricks at the back of my neck. “What the hell are you two doing here? Did you follow me?”
“Not this time.”
Not this time. This time??
Adam scoffs and points across the room. Through the hazy play of light and shadow, I spot a large booth filled with guys who only sort of look familiar. I’ve met most of them at Fallon’s house, I think. Or the gym or something.
Or possibly that one ill-advised time I followed PJ to a weekly brunch gathering the escorts all have and nearly had my throat cut. Which means everyone over there has seen me at one of my lowest points. Jesus, what if my brother and PJ show up?
One of them, the one with a lot of piercings on his face, waves at me. That recognition is ice water down my spine.
“I have to go.”
“Wes, baby, what’s the rush? If that sparkly twink got to dance with you, then we want a turn, yeah?” Troy tugs on my hand.
“Is he your type?” Adam’s eyebrows rise expectantly.
Their questions sound like simple curiosity, so why do I feel more like a baby penguin being circled by leopard seals?
“No. I don’t even—I don’t have a type. Coming here was a mistake. I do not have the fucking time for this.” I throw them off and shove through the crowd, hoping they don’t follow.
I can’t handle running into my brother and him asking questions I don’t know how to answer. And I definitely don’t need any more of Adam and Troy’s stupid games. Going in circles with them will only confuse me more.
As I make it to the door, just when I can smell and taste fresh air and freedom, a hand wraps around my arm. Troy’s grin stretches ear-to-ear. He looks far too pleased with himself.
“Not so fast, Kitten.”