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I bit my tongue, wishing everyone would let the entire AIDS-and-condoms conversation go, and let me be a grown-up. It wasn’t like I was incapable of making good choices.Of courseI’d always use condoms. I did with Adam, and he was the only person I’d had sex with. My cock thickened traitorously as memories of drugged-up blow jobs in a dark alcove shoved into my head.
Okay, I wasn’t a nitwit…except when I was.
I fiddled with the little red plastic straw Barry had popped into my glass, giving the Coke a hint of class. I changed the subject away from condoms and sexual safety. “How old is Daniel again?”
Barry smirked. “Twenty-two today.”
“Oh.”
“And, no, he doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Renée said from behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders in a perfumed embrace. “And, yes, he’s a good catch. And, yes, you should dump Naughty Boy for him.”
“I thought you liked Naughty Boy,” Barry said to her, pouring a glass of red wine and handing it over when she released me.
“I do. I just think Sweetie should be with someone who puts him first.” She batted her eyes at Barry. “Like you put me first.”
Barry kissed her cheek, and she giggled.
“Are you saying Daniel is that person?” I asked.
“First love is sweet, but good love is sweeter.” She raised her glass high. “And I’ll drink to that!” She downed all of it in long, gurgling, unladylike gulps.
I sipped my Coke pointedly and didn’t respond. I didn’t want Renée and Barry butting into my business, especially when it came to Adam. I loved him, and I hated him, and I didn’t know what to do about that.
I stayed at the bar with Barry when the drag show started. The girls visiting from Lexington were good performers, but Renée really was the best of the whole bunch. Her routine was precise and well-timed, her jokes were actually funny—much improved from last year—and she lip-synced with the best of them.
And, of course, the spanking was still part of her routine. I watched as a blond boy with a really round ass climbed up on the stage, holding just a towel in front of him. I didn’t recognize the guy, but Renée introduced him as William. Heat flashed in my chest as I remembered Adam up on that stage all those months ago now, his eyes searching for me in the crowd.
Renée built up the spanking, drawing it out, making it last, until the crowd was nearly frenzied. When they were all shouting along with her, the guy over her knee quite obviously had an orgasm. It was kinky, and I got hard watching it, but the best part was the realization that I wasn’tscaredthis time. I also wasn’t drunk. It was just me at Tilt-a-Whirl with most of gay Knoxville, watching a guy get off on getting spanked. I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Unless it was with Daniel. Or maybe Adam. I wasn’t sure anymore.
The point-and-shoot camera fit in my hands neatly. I greedily snapped up the spanking, the rosy ass of the boy afterward, the dancers, the graffitied door to the bathroom, and even Renée’s pink pumps. When I ran out of film at nearly four in the morning, I decided it was time to leave.
I kissed Renée and Barry on the cheek and set out. The early morning breeze feathered through my hair and cooled my overheated skin, my steps bouncing all the way to the car. I might have been delirious from smoke inhalation and heat, but the night had felt like freedom to me.
I drove home high on it.
Chapter Nine
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Leslie’s hair smelledlike peaches. Her blond, straight tresses slapped my face as she collapsed into the movie-theater chair next to me.
“Sorry,” she whispered, pulling it back and wrapping it up in a quick bun, using only a pencil from her purse and a single bobby pin.
“S’okay,” I whispered back.
She’d shown up at my doorstep again with a wide-eyed expression that broke my heart, two tickets toWhat About Bob?, and a promise we’d have fun. “Just the two of us, Peter. C’mon, don’t make me go to this dumb movie alone.”
Resolving to grow a pair another day, and without a plausible excuse, I’d given in. Now I was trapped sharing a bag of popcorn with her and hoping I didn’t let anything slip about Tilt-a-Whirl or Renée or my job or Adam. My stomach was an acidic mess.
“Are you excited for next year?” she asked, holding the popcorn out to me.
I took a handful, tossing a few pieces in my mouth, my stomach still churning. “Sure. College’ll be different at least.”
“What classes are you going to take?”
“Just the required stuff the first year. And photography.”
