His voice is low and breathless. “I want to go back to the club.”
“You do?” I ask, surprised.
“I want to watch you dance. I want to watch all of those men try to make you theirs. And then,” he says, pushing against me even harder, and there’s no doubt how turned on he is just thinkin’ ’bout it, “I want to bring you back here and prove to myself that you’re mine.”
“You’re actually a tiny bit kinky, aren’t you Zach?”
He’s still rubbin’ against me, his hands wanderin’. His lips against my neck are becoming more insistent. “You can say no,” he says.
I know I can. And that’s why I don’t.
It’s been a lotta years since I did this, but it’s not like I don’t know how. I slick my hair back on the sides, but spike it up on top. Black all around my eyes, and smeared over my lids. Have to admit, I’m glad I don’t have to face Matt like this. He’d never stop laughin’. But for Zach, I’ll do it. When I come out of the bathroom, Zach’s eyes get huge. I can tell he likes it.
“As good as Ziggy Stardust?” I ask him, smilin’.
“Better,” he says, and I laugh.
At least in Vegas, hardly anybody looks twice at a guy wearin’
makeup. We walk out of the hotel and catch a cab to the club. Zach finds a stool near the dance floor. I go up to the bar and order two shots of tequila. The bartender gives me a wary look as he puts them on the bar. “No trouble tonight,” he says.
“No trouble,” I say, and slam both shots. “I need a glass of wine too. You have any Spanish reds?”
He looks at me like I’m an idiot. Guess maybe I am. “Yeah right, buddy.”
It was worth a try. “Whatever red you got.”
I take the glass back to Zach, and the look he gives me when I hand it to him is worth lookin’ like an ass in front of the bartender. He kisses me once, deep and slow, and then whispers in my ear, “No sex.”
“I know.”
He smiles at me. “Have fun.”
When we were here before, I didn’t have time to find good partners—guys who are there for the same thing: not necessarily to get laid right away, but just to get turned on. Tonight I find them: the tattooed guy from before, and two others. The four of us trade off a lot.
I find out that dancin’ for Zach is different than dancin’ for myself. It’s better. I love knowin’ his eyes are on me. It’s the best aphrodisiac in the world.
I never let them kiss me, but one guy sucks my neck hard enough, I know I’m gonna have a mark. I slide my hand down his pants. I wrap my hand around his shaft and rub my thumb over the wet spot on his tip, ’til he says in a hoarse, teasing voice, “You better stop if you don’t want a mess on your hands.” I laugh, and we switch partners again.
I keep one eye on Zach. He’s cute as hell, and to anybody watchin’, he looks like he’s alone. Several guys talk to him. One buys him a drink. He flirts a little, but he’s always watchin’ me. He never lets any of them get too close. There’s one I can tell he likes. He flirts with him more than any of the others. He even lets the guy put his hand on the small of his back. The guy leans close and whispers somethin’ in Zach’s ear. Zach smiles, but then he says somethin’ to the guy, and points my way. I don’t miss the look the guy gives him then—disappointed, but a little bit impressed too—and Zach just beams at him.
I end up with the tattooed guy a lot. We go up to the bar to get a drink together once. “You here with that guy?” he asks, pointin’ over at Zach.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just curious.”
“How ’bout you?” I ask.
“The one who left that mark on your neck,” he says, smilin’. “We’ve been together five years.”
I can’t help but smile back. “That’s great, man.”
He follows me back to the dance floor and wraps his arms ’round me from behind. He rubs his hand between my legs, then slides it into my pocket. He slowly strokes me as he grinds into me. I put one of my hands
“You do?” I ask, surprised.
“I want to watch you dance. I want to watch all of those men try to make you theirs. And then,” he says, pushing against me even harder, and there’s no doubt how turned on he is just thinkin’ ’bout it, “I want to bring you back here and prove to myself that you’re mine.”
“You’re actually a tiny bit kinky, aren’t you Zach?”
He’s still rubbin’ against me, his hands wanderin’. His lips against my neck are becoming more insistent. “You can say no,” he says.
I know I can. And that’s why I don’t.
It’s been a lotta years since I did this, but it’s not like I don’t know how. I slick my hair back on the sides, but spike it up on top. Black all around my eyes, and smeared over my lids. Have to admit, I’m glad I don’t have to face Matt like this. He’d never stop laughin’. But for Zach, I’ll do it. When I come out of the bathroom, Zach’s eyes get huge. I can tell he likes it.
“As good as Ziggy Stardust?” I ask him, smilin’.
“Better,” he says, and I laugh.
At least in Vegas, hardly anybody looks twice at a guy wearin’
makeup. We walk out of the hotel and catch a cab to the club. Zach finds a stool near the dance floor. I go up to the bar and order two shots of tequila. The bartender gives me a wary look as he puts them on the bar. “No trouble tonight,” he says.
“No trouble,” I say, and slam both shots. “I need a glass of wine too. You have any Spanish reds?”
He looks at me like I’m an idiot. Guess maybe I am. “Yeah right, buddy.”
It was worth a try. “Whatever red you got.”
I take the glass back to Zach, and the look he gives me when I hand it to him is worth lookin’ like an ass in front of the bartender. He kisses me once, deep and slow, and then whispers in my ear, “No sex.”
“I know.”
He smiles at me. “Have fun.”
When we were here before, I didn’t have time to find good partners—guys who are there for the same thing: not necessarily to get laid right away, but just to get turned on. Tonight I find them: the tattooed guy from before, and two others. The four of us trade off a lot.
I find out that dancin’ for Zach is different than dancin’ for myself. It’s better. I love knowin’ his eyes are on me. It’s the best aphrodisiac in the world.
I never let them kiss me, but one guy sucks my neck hard enough, I know I’m gonna have a mark. I slide my hand down his pants. I wrap my hand around his shaft and rub my thumb over the wet spot on his tip, ’til he says in a hoarse, teasing voice, “You better stop if you don’t want a mess on your hands.” I laugh, and we switch partners again.
I keep one eye on Zach. He’s cute as hell, and to anybody watchin’, he looks like he’s alone. Several guys talk to him. One buys him a drink. He flirts a little, but he’s always watchin’ me. He never lets any of them get too close. There’s one I can tell he likes. He flirts with him more than any of the others. He even lets the guy put his hand on the small of his back. The guy leans close and whispers somethin’ in Zach’s ear. Zach smiles, but then he says somethin’ to the guy, and points my way. I don’t miss the look the guy gives him then—disappointed, but a little bit impressed too—and Zach just beams at him.
I end up with the tattooed guy a lot. We go up to the bar to get a drink together once. “You here with that guy?” he asks, pointin’ over at Zach.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just curious.”
“How ’bout you?” I ask.
“The one who left that mark on your neck,” he says, smilin’. “We’ve been together five years.”
I can’t help but smile back. “That’s great, man.”
He follows me back to the dance floor and wraps his arms ’round me from behind. He rubs his hand between my legs, then slides it into my pocket. He slowly strokes me as he grinds into me. I put one of my hands
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