For the monthly donation of $500 bucks, I got unfettered access as a VIP. I flashed my membership card to the bouncer and headed for the lockers. I stuffed my belongings in an empty slot and stuck the key in my pocket. I moseyed through the rooms and corridors, passed an indoor pool and bar. The patrons were a bit thin this early, but soon the place would be filled with rich businessmen and boys trolling for attention. Adam’s Garden took care of its guests and for opting in on the establishment’s exclusive package, I got unlimited drinks. I ordered a glass of wine and found a seat in the blue room, next to a collection of tropical plants.
I liked watching. Sex here was normally done in the open and with little privacy. I guessed for many, that was a part of the thrill. I sipped my red as I observed a pair in the opposite corner making out. It wouldn’t be long until clothes started falling off and cocks flashed in the low illumination of the glowing blue lights. Licking my sweetened lips, I enjoyed the show. They weren't in a hurry as they thoroughly explored each other’s mouths. Maybe they were a couple, or maybe they were hookups, but the fluidity in which they kissed suggested this wasn’t the first time they’d done this. Sometimes I liked to imagine myself and a boyfriend coming here, watching, and being watched. It was a fantasy that hit all my triggers.
More men came, passed by, and looked on with hooded eyes. I relaxed, thumbing my hard-on through my jeans as the pair started to slip hands under shirts and into pants. A young man came to stand against the door jamb, his lithe body clothed in nothing but jeans that were falling off his hips. His attention wasn’t on the pair, but me as I ran my thumb across my cloaked erection.
I took a sip of the red and licked my lips suggestively. He took it as a green light and approached. He knelt in front of me and slid his warm palm under my shirt. The stranger’s caresswas nice, the sensation of being touched by hands other than my own both comforting and arousing.
As need consumed me, a familiar fire ignited. Taking the young man’s hair in my fist, I asked, “Do you like to suck cock, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” he whispered and moved to release my dick.
I threw my head back against the chair and sighed. This was exactly what I’d wanted. For a few hours, my gnawing need would be sated. But I knew that when I got home in the early morning hours, I’d feel nothing but emptiness.
CHAPTER THREE
JAKE
The weekend had gone by too quickly.
I sighed as I stood in my uncomfortable work uniform, with a platter of various cheese samples in my hands. Another day, another dollar that didn’t go far enough.
Saturday had been occupied with Manny and his family, the small birthday get-together raising my spirits. We’d colored robots together, shared a cake, and talked with Maria’s elderly parents. All in all, it had been nice and for a brief time, I’d felt like part of a family. Before I knew it, Monday rolled around, and it was back to work. The manager on duty decided I was to hand out samples today. It was worse than cleaning the smelly seafood racks. I wasn’t particularly good with people and preferred to keep to myself.
“Hello, ma’am. M-might I interest you in our new selection of cheeses?” I started, but the lady kept on going as if I didn’t exist. I should be used to rejection by now, but it stung. I told myself that it wasn’t personal, but my brain was broken and had the propensity to take everything personally.
I did my best to hand out the samples. Some people noticed me and took a wedge of cheese, likely out of pity but most passed me by.
You can do this. Stop being so anti-social.
It was easier said than done. I figured if I couldn’t talk to a stranger about our selection of artisan cheeses, how was I ever going to introduce myself to Mr. Dreamy? The thing was I could have conversations with people, but I needed to feel comfortable with them first. Like with Maria, Manny, and Jazmine. It had taken me months to say more than a greeting to Maria. Two years later and I didn’t hesitate to laugh over a silly joke withher. It was people that I didn’t know that was the issue, which made no sense to me. Add that to my other weird idiosyncrasies like being afraid to call people by their names.
Angry with myself, I went to stand closer to the main door where people were filing in, hoping they’d just take my samples without me having to flag them down. It seemed to work, and the wedges started flying off the platter. At least the manager couldn’t bitch at me when I returned with an empty plate.
I was so aggravated by my situation that I hadn’t realized it was lunch time. All my frustrations melted away as Mr. Dreamy walked in with a phone pressed to his ear. I perked up, my heart skipping a beat. He was dressed in a flashy striped, purple shirt, with paisley flip cuffs that peeked through his light jacket. The whole ensemble looked damned good on him. Then again, he looked good every day. His hair was a bit wild as if the wind had gotten a hold of it.
This was it, I realized. This was my chance to say hello and introduce myself. Holding the platter of cheese tightly, I took a deep breath as Mr. Dreamy headed for me. I smiled as best I could and opened my mouth to speak. My throat was dry, but I was determined to do this.
Hi, hello. I’m Jake and I’ve been in love with you since we first met.
“I told you, Bev. I don’t care what you have to say,” Mr. Dreamy snarled into the phone.
He breezed by me with all the force of a hurricane, angry heat wafting off his body. He didn’t so much as look at me or even acknowledge my presence. Being ignored by him stung. He came to stand in front of the selection of freshly squeezed juices and continued to snap at whoever was on the other line.
Bev? A girlfriend? Wife? He’d occasionally had lunch with a ginger man who I assumed was a friend judging by the lack of intimate contact. My hopes were immediately crushed. Scratchthat, they’d been thrown in an industrial blender and pulverized. As the man that I’d foolishly developed a crush on, slashed his hand in the air, I felt so low that I swore I could melt into the linoleum. I’d reasoned with myself that I had little chance with Mr. Dreamy. But having everything come to a screeching halt was depressing.
I figured the least I could do was my job. Angry and lonely, I walked up to the man and gathered the last shred of self-confidence I had. I’d meant to say hello and inform him about our cheeses, but something reared its ugly head. It was anger for things I couldn’t control, anger at the world and at myself for being so painfully shy, that I was utterly alone.
“Would you like some cheese with that whine?” My voice boomed over the hum of people and cut through his conversation.
Mr. Dreamy turned on his fancy shoes, his handsome face creased by a scowl. Whatever beast had awoken within me quickly scurried back into its hole and left me looking like a jackass.
Thanks, confidence. Nice to have known you.
“I mean…” Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I rocked on my feet. “I’m sorry. That was bad timing and a totally inappropriate joke. I, uh… Wanted to inform you of our new selection of cheeses, imported directly from Europe and hand cut here at Marco’s Fresh Market. From Spain to Italy, we want to bring you the finest—”
“Breathe,” he said and slid his phone into his pocket.
I dragged in a big breath but felt like I couldn’t get enough air. I offered the platter to him. “I’m sorry.”
