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The guy beside us looks our way, a smirk on his lips. He pumps his eyebrows, and I pull Ian in closer.
“Seriously, in the bathroom?”
He laughs and slaps a hand on my shoulder.
“Sure, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. That’s why we’re here. To see what you do want, right?”
I nod, and he points to the bar.
“Drink?”
“Beer.”
“You got it.”
We snake our way to the front of the bar, and he orders while I watch the mass of dancing men, searching for any familiar faces. I know it’s unlikely that anyone I know will be here. The players and writers likely have all gone to bed for the night after the long bus trip to Boston, but how can I be sure? I wish I had one of Jase’s wigs right now. Jase is the cousin I moved in with in college after my roommates got me kicked out of the dorm. His parents are in the theatre and so he has a huge collection of wigs that he names and wears out to clubs when he want to pretend to be someone else. I always thought it was a little weird, but now I think he’s onto something. A few guys nod and smile my way, and it’s nice. But it doesn’t have me wanting to take it any further than a nod and a smile.
Ian is shifting from foot to foot in time with the beat of the music, relaxed, and his hips roll slightly from side to side. It’s nice seeing him like this. Nerves envelop me, preventing me from just letting myself feel the music the way I would if I were anywhere else, with anyone else.
I close my eyes, trying to force my other senses to take over and draw me out. The room is warm, the air thick, and filled with a mixture of colognes and sweat. I breathe in deeply, a strong citrus scent itching the back of my nose. The beat of the music vibrates through the soles of my shoes into my feet. Every pulse of the bass rolls up my body. My head nods in time. Even though the people around me aren’t touching me, I can sense where they are. Their movements transmit ripples through the air and send shivers across my skin. Something moves on my left, and a delicious scent fills my nose. I open my eyes and find Ian right there in front of me.
“You okay?” he asks, and I nod, thankful that the overall dim lighting will at least be hiding the blush rising on my face. He hands me a beer, and I drink it all down in one go.
“Thirsty or just nervous?” he asks.
“Both,” I lie. It’s all nerves. I’m usually the life of any party I go to. I thrive on this shit, so why now is it here with him that I feel like I can’t breathe?
“Here,” he says, passing me his beer. I take it and drink it down, too, paying closer attention this time to the cool fizz as it makes its way down, using the transfer of focus to shift my spiraling thoughts. This is just like every other club, on any other night. Stop overthinking it and just try to have fun.
“Dance?” Ian asks, and I nod.
He takes my hand and heat flows from his touch up my arm and across my chest. So far tonight, I’ve learned that gay clubs are just like other clubs and Ian still does things to my body I never expected. His grip is firm, but not too firm, I could slip from his hold if I wanted, but I let him lead me onto the dancefloor, watching his feet as we walk until he stops and tilts my head up with a finger under my chin.
As soon as I look into his brown eyes, big bright goofy smile watching me, waiting for me to get my shit together and dance with him, the room almost falls away. All I can see is him. My nerves settle, and I take hold of his waist, and we dance like nobody’s watching.
He spins me around and wraps his hands around my waist, his warm breath tickling the side of my neck.
“So, see anyone you like?” he asks, and I’m brought right back to the reality of the real reason we’re here. For me to see if, in a random sea of men, anyone other than Ian takes my interest. Reluctantly, I do a quick scan. There are plenty of guys in here that I can admit are perfectly alright looking, but I would havehappily admitted that before. I spin in his hands and check out the guys behind us, finally shaking my head.
“Nope.”
“No worries, the night is young,” he says, and a pang hits my chest. Is he that determined to pawn me off onto someone else? I mean, I get it. With this whole thing I’m the rookie needing to be shown the way, but I thought he was happy showing me. Maybe it’s just not fun for him anymore.
“I guess so. The music is cool,” I say, and we dance a little while longer. Although he’s dancing with me, his attention is moving, scanning the room. Is he looking for someone else to hook up with, someone he doesn’t have to spell it all out for? I can’t blame him. I’m only just getting the hang of giving a blow job, he’s probably used to having everything. I have no idea if I am even a top or a bottom. Though just the idea of bottoming the other night had my cock at half-mast. I’m assuming it hurts, though, too. The few times I’ve tried it with a girl, they’ve said it can sting, but then they relax and it’s good, at least that’s what they say.
Ian squeezes my arm. “Back in a minute,” he yells in my ear and then weaves his way through the crowd toward the restrooms.
I keep dancing because what else am I supposed to do? I could go after him. He told me that it’s normal to get a blowjob in the bathroom here. I could tell him I want to experience that. But I didn’t get afollow me in a minutevibe from him and dropping to my knees in a public restroom doesn’t really sound too appealing. Maybe the change room of a department store, but not a bathroom.
“Hey,” someone says from behind me, and I turn to find a six-foot muscular guy smiling down at me.
“Hey.”
“Haven’t seen you here before,” he says, and I nod.
“Just passing through Boston.”
“Not looking for anything serious, got it.”
