Chapter 2
Truce
It was like being stroked by a dozen hands. All over my naked body. The attention. The offerings of others. The ego-boo.
“Truce! Truce!”
People always announced my arrival at the gay bars and kink clubs. It had been going on for years. I had to admit it felt great.
I’d never had a problem getting hookups.
Anyone I wanted, I had in my back pocket.
I wasn’t quite sure why people put me in that position.
My looks had always gotten me out of trouble and into wherever I wanted to go.
But it wasn’t just me working out or spending time on fashion and hair.
Or the popularity of the scenes I’d done at Kings and Queens.
People asked for my opinion. For advice.
To tell them what to do. At my job I’d been told I had “leadership qualities” but still preferred to work from home.
I guess I projected some sort of energy that made others think I knew stuff. “Truce,” they’d say. “What should we do? Where should we go?”
It could happen anywhere. In bed. On a hike. In a grocery store. “Truce, what can I do to please you? Should we explore the mountain more or turn around? What food should we buy?”
My name got mentioned around. I was talked about.
Every gay bar in town welcomed me, no cover charge, and sometimes even my drinks were free.
Hell, I didn’t party hard. At least, not as hard as when I was younger.
I didn’t get five figures for showing up at a nightclub like famous influencers.
But on the smaller scale of the gay community, I was known. I was asked to return. And often.
I had a fairly sedate job in finance. I did all right. But my social life was the dream made manifest. Except for one thing. Boyfriends didn’t last.
I had a good sex life that was fun, and long-lasting friendships which were great. But falling in love eluded me.
I believed in love but it remained like a ghost, something that might be there but not fully there. And romance? Well, that had gotten lost somewhere between the nightlife, used condoms and maybe too much popularity.
In the past year or so, I hung out with an older crowd that liked to talk more than fuck. Well, not more, but about equal. Guys who had husbands, wanted husbands or were about to become husbands. I was the youngest of all of them but they enthusiastically latched onto me because, well, I’m me.
They seemed fulfilled but half of them had open relationships. I wondered about that and concluded I wouldn’t want that. Nope, not for me. If I fell in love, I’d want him all to myself.
Tonight I’d chosen to go to the San Francisco Bar, which was not in San Francisco and which we all called Frannie’s.
I walked into the usual chorus of men calling out my name.
“Truce! Truce!”
The air felt tight against my skin and tingled with electricity. Maybe it was going to rain. Maybe I was going to get lucky.
I waved at the room and greeted my friends. It was always a little confusing in those first few moments when I entered an establishment. People surrounded me. People wanted to see me. I enjoyed it. Whose ego wouldn't?
But strangely, the people who stood out were the ones who weren't around me, who didn't call out my name or approach. Some might be strangers. Tourists. Others might be otherwise engaged, making out on the dance floor lost to the tunes.
Tonight, it was someone else. As my crowd of friends swept me through the busy crowd toward the staircase that would lead to the second level, we passed by a couple of twinks leaning against the wall.
One of them had a sort of deer in the headlights look to him.
I only saw him out the corner of my eye.
I never looked directly at him because while I noticed him holding tightly to a stuffed butterfly toy, he suddenly looked down as if not wanting to see me at all.
Pride had me ignoring him as not my type. Or maybe I wasn't his type. It was no big deal, I told myself. And my friends had me forgetting him by the time we got upstairs and started ordering drinks.
The place was quieter up here. Later, some of us would go down to dance and mingle. Right now, we enjoyed cocktails, pretzels and good conversation.
My friend Luke sat beside me as a waiter dressed in a white tux with no shirt came up to take our order. When he brought my drink, he leaned down. “On the house, sir.”
The guys snickered.
I laughed.
“Asshole,” Luke said. “Always with the free drinks for you.”
I lifted my shoulders in an innocent shrug and raised my drink in a toast. “I’d better enjoy it because it won’t last forever.”
“To Truce. And to forever,” the guys shouted.
I never got tired of it. The attention. The affection. No complaints there. But it only lasted for as long as the night. I might or might not hook up. But I usually went home alone.
As we all chatted, I tipped by chair back a bit, balancing to show off, and pressed my heavy boots to the edge of the table. Later, I got up and made a couple trips bringing back drinks for the ones who looked dry, as well as another for myself.
Just as I was about to sit down, I saw movement at one of the stairwells. A young man appeared at the top of the steps. He was quite pretty with cheeks that looked like he was still under twenty-five, and light brown hair with golden highlights framing his face.
He stared at me for a few seconds. His eyebrows darted up. I saw his chest expand under a deep breath.
A sudden warm surge of blood pooled at my groin as I recognized him as the twink I’d seen on my way upstairs.
This was unusual for me. Not the part about being turned on, but how quickly my jaded self reacted to see him appear.
He held tightly to his butterfly toy, clueing me to his probable little status.
I had dated a few littles in my twenties but they were too edgy and flighty for my tastes.
And maybe I’d been too young to embody a proper Daddy persona to match, though I had tried.
I could tell immediately that this little one wasn’t a regular.
I set down the drinks and scooted my chair beneath me. Then I dared myself to look straight at him.
His body gave a little jerk and he strode to one of the big windows. I knew from experience that reflections from the room filled those windows at night. The lights were too bright in here. He could see the whole room as if looking into a mirror.
He was now pretending not to see me. But I wasn’t fooled. He’d been staring and still was.
This wasn’t my ego talking. I noticed things. I noticed this.
Finally, he swiveled away from the glass and glanced directly at me again. It was as if he was making sure he had seen correctly that yes, I was looking at him.
As soon as he realized he was being watched, he jumped forward and rushed back to the stairs. I heard the laughter and music coming from below but that didn’t block the rush of his clomping footsteps going down as he ran away. Fast. From me.
My body slumped in a sudden weird emptiness.
I blinked at the space where he’d been standing and addressed the table. “Anyone know his name?”
“Who?” someone asked.
Luke spoke. “Never seen him before.”
Heads turned. “What did I miss?” Another asked.
“He looked like a little,” Luke offered.
“Just because he had a toy?” I asked. But of course, it was because he had a toy.
“For sure.”
“I saw that guy earlier when we came in,” a man named Alex said. “He was holding the butterfly, right?”
I nodded.
“Never seen him before.”
Others chimed in. “Me, either.”
I told myself I’d probably never see him again. My reaction to him—my interest—didn’t matter.
But still…. Something about him. I’d avoided looking at him downstairs but not for lack of interest. It was because he’d backed up, lowered his gaze as if scared. I didn’t go where I wasn’t wanted.
But then he’d come upstairs to stare at us. At me.
There was something inside me that needed to understand why.
The rest of the night, amid drinks and laughter and dancing, I couldn’t think of anything or anyone else but him.