Another Night at the Club

Disclaimer: I told you last time, you really shouldn't be reading this. It'll make you go blind. I am not, nor have I ever been, in any way associated with any of the people depicted in the following, so I know absolutely nothing about who they really are. Odds are that none of them are gay, and the following is not meant to imply that any of them are. More's the pity. Don't read this if you shouldn't; you know who you are. If I get an angry email from your mommy or daddy, well, it's your fault. I apologize for the weird line breaks in the last part; I figured out what was wrong, and it won't happen again. Send feedback to kevin9y9@yahoo.com

Previously, on Another Night...

My life would have continued in its normal orbits, if only a shadow hadn't fallen across the pages of my book, and a man's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Er, excuse me? I was wondering if you could help me and my friends out..."

and now...

Another Night at the Club - Chapter Two "Underground in Clubland"

I looked up from my book. It was the tall, dark, and handsome one. I still preferred blondy, but I wouldn't kick this one out of my bed for eating crackers. Aw, heck. Who was I kidding? At this point, I probably wouldn't kick anyone out of my bed. I've been single for over a year, and hating every minute of it. But I digress, as always.

"Yes?" I said calmly, quirking an eyebrow up in question. I reached over with my free hand and picked up my mocha for a quick sip. As I put the drink back on the table, I saw that the other three were watching us.

"Ah, my friends and I are from out of town and don't know the area. We were wondering if you could tell us if there are any good clubs around here?" The stranger smiled at me with a slight twinkle in his eye. I liked him already.

I grinned back at him. "Well, you've come to the right person. I know all the nightspots in town." I put the book aside; this might take a while.

His mouth twitched in a slight smile. "Oh? You party a lot, then?"

I laughed at that. "No, I just don't have a car, so I can never get out of town unless I bum a ride. So I know all the streets of the city, and so do my feet."

He chuckled, then in one graceful motion sat on the stone shelf sticking out from the fireplace across from me. "So, what are the cool spots in town on a Friday night?"

I rolled my eyes a little. "Well. There's a club about six blocks that way," I pointed, "on the other side of campus. I've never been there, but I hear it is loud and smells bad, and the only reason to go is to pick up easy undergrad women. But if that's all you're looking for..." He shook his head curtly, in distaste. "There's a decent sports bar a block from here that has dancing after midnight," I continued. "The music's always about a year old, but it isn't too bad... except that the dance floor is teeny tiny. There's a little piano bar off of Main that's pretty cool if you just want to hang out and talk with friends. The place to dance, though, is the Tangerine, two blocks from here. They play house music, and a little techno."

"That sounds cool. We like to dance." The goatee guy guffawed -- something I thought only happened in stories -- and curly slapped him playfully. I didn't see the joke.

Suddenly I remembered. "Er... I should warn you, though... Friday night is 'gay night' there." My face was bright red. I've been out for three years, but sometimes I still get a little embarrassed talking about sexuality, particularly with total strangers. "I mean, no one would assume anything if you went there... the straight guys finally started to realize that that's where all the straight girls go when they want to dance without pressure..." Why did I feel like I was just digging myself deeper? I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I blushed.

I was rescued by the curly haired one, to my surprise. "That's cool. It's the nineties, you know?" He then blushed. "Er, it was, I mean." The one with the goatee and the guy who had been talking to me both laughed at that.

"Is that where you go?" the spiky haired, beautiful one asked in a soft voice with just the hint of a drawl, and my blush returned full force. "James!" the goatee'd one said with shock. "That wasn't very polite." The beautiful one (James, I now knew) blushed too.

As he started to stammer an apology, I smiled wryly. More of a grimace, actually. "No, it's alright. Yeah, that's where I usually go on a Friday. It's not the best club I've been to, but it is the best in this town." I laugh, then, remembering the time I went with the girls in my department. "Except on straight nights. They do 80s music on Saturdays, and it's just godawful. Straight people can't dance." I start to blush again, and realize that I've been both staring at James and blathering like an idiot. "Er... no offense intended."

The dark haired one by the fireplace drawled out a reply, "None taken." I looked away from James, and therefore missed the fact that he had reddened considerably as well. "I'm Josh, by the way."

"Keith," I introduced myself.

"The tactless one is James, and the other two are Joe and Just... we call him 'Curly,' though, just so there aren't so many 'J's." Heh. Now if I could just stop thinking of the other two as the Bear and the Beautiful One, I might get out of this conversation without making a total ass out of myself.

"So, do you go to school here, Keith?" Joe asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I've been here for a year now... grad school, so I'll be here forever. What brings you four into town? Checking out the campus, or just passing through?"

Josh answered. "Just passing through. We had a... thing... in Detroit, but one of our friends got sick on the way. He had to have surgery. So our gig got cancelled, and now we've got a few weeks off."

"Rotten way to get time off," I observed, and the other four nodded soberly. "Is your friend going to be okay?"

Curly's face twisted in worry. I wondered if this friend of theirs might be Curly's 'special friend,' but then I thought to myself, no self respecting gay man would do THAT to his hair. In any case, Joe replied softly, "Yeah. The docs say he'll be fine, but he can't get too physical for a few weeks." Curly definitely grimaced at that, so maybe my earlier theory was right after all. "We were lucky to be so near such a good hospital, though."

The others nodded. The mood was far too grim, and I tried to lighten it by changing the subject. "So, you guys are in some kind of band?"

"Nah. We're just travelling circus freaks," Josh said, flashing a grin.

James rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Yeah, we are, but you probably haven't heard of us," Curly said in a tone that clearly indicated that even if I had, I was to keep silent about it Or Else. They did look really familiar. Later I would realize that if I had sprung the $40 per month on cable, that I might have recognized them. But at that point, I was still quite clueless. The silence after Justin's warning was lengthening, so I just blathered on.

"Ah. Well, all I listen to anymore is techno and house. It's horrible, but I've been going to this club so often that I can actually sing along to most of the songs -- well, the ones that have words -- and I actually go out of my way to find the music out here in the real world. If I could introduce the me of today to the me of two years ago..." I laughed, shaking my head ruefully. "Coming out has utterly skewed my sense of taste."

James chuckled wickedly at that last remark, and I winced as I realized the Freudian slip I had made. "Not that kind of taste!" I growled sharply, and then the other three got it and were laughing too.

Once they composed themselves, I asked, "So, where are y'all staying?"

"A hotel about two blocks from here," Josh said. "We figured we'd scope out the town, get ourselves caffeinated, and then go from there."

I nodded. "We had the same idea, then."

Joe exhaled loudly. "Well, maybe we should get going, guys. We need to get ready if we want to go out tonight, and we should probably call Chris on the cell before it gets too late, see how he's doing."

I looked down at my watch. "Uh... you realize it's only 9:00, right? How long does it take you guys to get ready for a club?"

Curly laughed. "Oh, it can take James here hours and hours to get his hair right."

James gave Curly the Look of Death -- my mother was a schoolteacher; I recognized it instantly. I didn't know what the boy was talking about anyway... James looked pretty damn near perfect to me.

Josh interrupted my musings by sticking out a hand for a shake as he stood. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Keith. You said that sports bar was a block from here?"

I tried to hide my disappointment that they weren't going to the gay club after all. I risked a quick glance at the others. Was it my imagination, or did James look disappointed too? And maybe even a little ticked off at Josh? Probably just my imagination. "Yeah, one block east. Can't miss it." I give Josh a quick handshake, and then one each for the others as well. James' hand was a little damp. So was mine. "I hope your friend is feeling better soon."

Curly smiled sadly. "Yeah, so do we. It was nice meeting you."

As the four of them walked away, I called out to them, "Hey, clubs here don't really pick up until 11:30 at the earliest! Just so you know." I didn't want them to make the mistake that I had made when I first got here of going out too early. I didn't understand why clubs were dead until midnight -- if I'm going to pay cover charge, I want to dance, dammit -- but that's the way things worked.

As they left the Starbucks, I watched them go -- hmm, nice buns -- and this time there was no mistaking it; James definitely did turn back to me as he walked out the doors, and gave a little conspiratorial wink. I hadn't blushed so many times in one night, ever.

I sat there for a little while longer, but my concentration was utterly shattered and the words on the page in front of me no longer had any meaning. With a final sigh of disgust, I put the book back into my bag and stood. If I was going out that night, I needed to head home and get ready.

I walked slowly home, enjoying the cool August evening. All too soon, school would start again and the calm of campus in summer would be shattered by the return of the undergrads. The nights were already getting colder, and soon the joggers would be unable to run barechested. Tragic, really.

At home, I grabbed a quick shower to wash off the day's dust. I spent a few minutes debating what to wear, then decided to go as a normal person for a change. I only have one "club shirt" -- black, part lycra, hand wash only -- and I only wore it when I was feeling no shame. I instead decided on a gray cotton T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Casual, but the clothes were good quality. I put on a small spritz of cologne -- my ex-boyfriend had shown me how good it is to get close to someone who smells nice -- and combed my hair with just a tiny bit of gel. I was good to go.

And it was only 10:15.

I spent the next hour or so checking my email and browsing the web, listening to my collection of house mp3s with the volume cranked up to get into the groove. The mocha had definitely kicked in; I was wired and ready to move.

At about 11:30 I left my apartment and walked downtown, stopping briefly at the cash machine before crossing the street to the club. To be honest, I was getting a little tired of the place -- I had gone there nearly every Friday that summer. The bouncer checked my ID and gave me the handstamp that indicated that I was legal to drink. I paid the cover, and I was inside.

As I stepped into the club, I paused at the door to let my eyes adjust to the dark. A few heads turned, but no one I knew. The music was always a bit louder earlier in the evening, probably to distract from the nearly-empty dance floor. No more than two dozen bodies were out on the floor this early, though even as I watched groups of two and three filtered on. No doubt, in a few minutes the DJ would play something popular and the floor would be packed.

I debated getting a drink, but then decided to be cheap. I went down the steps to the dance floor, looking to see if anyone I recognized was there yet. I spotted two of my friends, Alex and Greg -- the on-again off-again couple, currently off -- dancing together with some girl friend of theirs. I smiled when I recognized them, and gave each of them a quick hug and a hello before finding a point on the circle and dancing. The DJ started to play "Sexual," by Amber, which I recognized in a few seconds. It was an older song -- it reminded me of the summer before, when I was finally comfortable enough with being gay to go out to a club. It reminded me of the night I met my ex. I had found the music video on Launch.com a few nights before while browsing the web; I really didn't understand why part of the song was sung by a Chihuahua, but that's okay.

Over the next half hour, other friends joined us and left, and we mingled, moving around from group to group and saying hi. The summer was almost over, and already a few of my friends were back in town from their summer breaks, so we chatted and caught up on each others' lives. It was in the middle of one of those conversations that I saw a familiar face, looking around like he was lost. I interrupted my friend's story, made my apologies, and then left to walk over to the newcomer.

"Joe!" I said with a grin. "What brings you here? Where are your friends?"

Joe turned, and he cracked a smile. "Hey, Keith. We were just looking for you, actually. The others are at the bar. C'mon, join us."

I followed as we pushed our way through the crowd near the bar. I greeted the others with a smile. Josh and James had drinks -- long islands, it looked like -- but Justin sat there with a bottle of water, looking depressed.

"Hey, guys. I wasn't expecting to see y'all again. I thought you were going to the Sports Place. What happened?"

Justin sighed, but it was James that answered. "They're 21 and over only," he said in his deep, soft voice. "They wouldn't let Justin in."

I felt like a total heel. "Damn. I'm sorry, Justin. I didn't realize you were underage -- I mean, you don't look old, but I shouldn't have assumed -- I didn't even think about it."

Justin attempted a smile. "It's not your fault. At least this place is 19 and over. I wouldn't mind, even, if the bouncer hadn't been such an ass about it."

Joe grinned. "You want us to go back and work him over for ya, Just?"

Justin laughed, and so did the rest of us. "Nah, man. He was just pissed 'cause he was old, and shit. Screw this, let's dance."

As we headed back to the dance floor, I looked down at my watch. 12:45; still early.

The five of us danced together for a while; every now and then a friend of mine would come over and I would make introductions. At one point, my friend Greg grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me aside.

"You're being really obvious, you know, but if you want him you're going to have to actually get close enough to touch him."

"What?" I asked, clueless.

Greg sighed. "Look, Keith, I know you don't do the pick up thing much, but you should know how it works by now. The two of you -- don't look at me like that, you know I'm talking about blondie over there -- have got the eye contact thing down, no problem. I think all of us have noticed that you two can't take your eyes off each other. Look over there. That guy -- Josh? -- is giving his friend a pep talk too. It's obvious you've got the hots for each other, but if you wanna pick him up you have to dance with him. With him, not with a group."

"He's not even gay!" I said shrilly.

Greg cocked his head to the side and his eyes narrowed. "Really," he drawled. His voice deepened as he said, "Trust your gaydar, Luke. It surrounds us, penetrates us, binds us together." He slapped me upside the head and returned to his normal voice, though he definitely sounded exasperated. "Look at him. Look how he dresses! And the hair! Not to mention that he's drooling over you as much as you are over him. Go for it, you silly chickenshit." With that he let go of my arm and walked away, probably to watch from a distance, knowing him. Evil bastard.

I walked back over to the guys. I had done the random pick up thing once before, just a little while after I moved here. It had been a complete and utter disaster. We hadn't had sex -- not really, technically speaking and depending on your definitions -- but I had felt so guilty the next morning that I could hardly force myself out of bed to face the day. My mother had been Catholic, and my father Methodist. Deep down, I was a smalltown boy at heart. At least this time I knew what the guy's name was before anything happened...

I danced mindlessly, my eyes focusing on nothing as I thought to myself frantically. There was no doubting that this guy was a stud. He was my type, totally. Was I willing to have another fling, knowing that nothing could come of it? The guy didn't even live in town, and would probably be leaving in a few days. Well, there wouldn't be any complications, then, at least. Just two adults, having a good time, with no expectations. Maybe a fling would be good for me. If Greg was right, and James really was as attracted to me as I was to him.

I must have been lost in my own world for a good five minutes, contemplating my options. The song changed, and I looked up, startled to find that the others were gone. I was standing opposite James, who danced slowly to every other beat, watching me with a slightly amused look on his face. He moved closer and leaned in toward my ear, shouting over the music, "Penny for your thoughts."

It was loud in the club, as the speakers blasted out "Mucho Mambo (Sway)." It was one of my favorite songs. I was bright red, and couldn't think of a damn thing to say. I resorted to cheesiness, hoping that he would think it was cute instead of just lame.

"Just wondering what a nice boy like you was doing in a place like this," I shouted back. He was a little taller than me, and I had to step in just a little bit closer to be near enough to his ear for him to hear me.

He leaned another few inches closer to me, breathing in. "Hmm... you smell good," he murmured softly. "Do you come here often?"

I lifted my arms half way, hesitated, and then rested them lightly on his hips, and moved in just a bit closer. Our cheeks were almost touching, but not quite. I could smell his shampoo. My mouth was dry. I swallowed, and said, "If I told you that you had a nice body, would you hold it against me?" I said, barely audible over the thumping base.

At that James chuckled, a low rumble from deep in his throat. He put his arms on my shoulders, holding me in his arms, and I slipped mine more tightly about his waist, turning them up so that my hands rested just under his shoulder blades. We swayed together there, not even close to moving with the beat, the rest of the club forgotten. My heart was thumping. It had been far, far too long since I had been held like this. It felt so comfortable, like I had always been there, in this one slice of time, and would never leave.

He buried his face in my neck then, rubbing first his nose and then his mouth against my flesh. My neck is sensitive, possibly the most sensitive part of my body that isn't directly involved in reproduction. I felt things stirring in my groin, and as he kissed my neck I gasped. I turned my head toward his and kissed his jawbone, just under the ear, the flesh smooth against my lips. I moved farther down his jaw toward the chin, and then our mouths met in our first kiss.

Thanks to those of you who wrote about my first chapter. I hope this one is a little better, but I've never been the greatest at doing dialogue... don't be too concerned that Keith and Lance are acting like big ol' hos in this chapter and the next (wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more)... this will be a romantic story, eventually, but I've been reading Dan Savage's column about good relationships that started out slightly dirty. And I like the movie Trick just a little too much. And in my experience lust at first sight is more likely than love at first sight. I'm a cynical romantic. Don't worry; I don't understand it either. So... direct feedback to kevin9y9@yahoo.com