Page 3 of A Daddy to Love

On the way out, I got friendly looks from all sorts of guys. So did my stuffed butterfly. I hadn’t realized I needed that confidence booster until it happened.

There were two staircases on either side of the building that led upstairs. As I passed by one staircase another man smiled at me and I stopped to smile back, then looked up. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek.

When I saw two men coming down I moved to one side, then slowly made my way up. I had no clue what I was doing. I wanted to steal another look at Truce, but that made no sense. He didn’t know I existed plus he was way out of my league. And the impact stuff Kimmie told me about was super scary. But I couldn’t seem to stop my body from cresting the second floor.

Just a glance, I told myself. Then my curiosity would be done. Finished.

When I reached the last step, I was surprised at how clear the air was and how much quieter. The tinkle of glassware and men’s murmuring voices surrounded me. The lights shone brighter. The polished wood floors gleamed.

To my right, huge windows opened onto the night. Large green plants in terracotta pots stood in corners and beside the windows. Tables, some low and square, some high and round, created uneven aisles. Cushioned benches lined two walls.

The guys here weren’t dancing, but instead they talked and laughed. There was a small bar serving drinks.

Some people at the tables closest to me looked up. Instinctively, I took a step back. If anyone asked me my reason for coming upstairs, I wouldn’t be able to tell them anything. I didn’t want a drink. I didn’t know anyone. I just wanted to see Truce. One more time. And I had questions. So many questions Kimmie hadn’t answered.

Thankfully, no one bothered me.

I crept toward one of the windows, pretending to look out. In reality, I saw only reflections of things behind me in the glass. The bright lights created a mirror affect but details were unclear. I leaned sideways to widen my view and searched for Truce but couldn’t see him.

Boldly, I turned. In that split-second my gaze landed directly on him, the perfect hair, the cheekbones, the tan against the V of his vest, head high. He wasn’t sitting. He had just come from the bar holding two drinks, one in each hand, and approached a tall round table where at least a dozen guys hung out, some sitting, some standing draped over a partner’s shoulders. One of the guys let out a loud laugh. Truce opened his mouth and laughed right back at him. That laugh filled the air. It embodied him. His eyes glistened. His drinks sloshed. Then the rest of the table joined in the laughter.

As he set the drinks on the table, his head came up too fast for me to react. Suddenly, dark eyes seemed to swoop straight through me. A cold panic took hold at being caught. I had no reason for my fear. Why should I be afraid? I simply… wanted him.

What?

His look held no emotion. Almost a glower. A quick intrusive thought that I was not his type caused me to jump forward and rush down the stairs.

With no memory of time passing, I was in my car and driving away.

The streetlights nearly blinded me. Everything was overly defined, the roads shiny, the darkness itself like a liquid. I wasn’t drunk, but definitely my experience had put me in a funny state.

Only now did I realize why I’d panicked. From this one man, this overly handsome guy with a weird name, I was terrified of rejection.

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.