Page 59 of Tell Me Lies: Manlove Edition

Robin kneels by the bed and opens a suitcase of clothes. Problem is, he’s pointing his very sexy butt in the air, albeit covered by a towel, and I can’t help getting hard from the enticing sight. I’d give a lot to slide my hard cock into his firm, puckered hole and do him until...

Okay, enough. I extend my legs to ease the growing pressure in my groin and slur, “You really need to do someshing about that shexiness.”

“I what?” He turns to me with laughter on his face.

“Never mind. It’s the booze speaking.” I point a thumb backward, to the minibar. “Don’t tell your girlfriend.”

He has a moment of hesitation, before shaking his head. “Oh, you mean Lola? She’s not my girlfriend.”

I blink. “No?”

“We’re colleagues.”

Oh, well, that changes everything. Maybe at some point I can make a move, then. It’s been a long time since my last fuck. I fill with more heat, my brain swimming. Then again, nothing tells me he’s gay. What if I make advances and he rejects me?

He gives me a long stare. “You sure you don’t recognize me?”

“Well, to be honesht, there’s someshing familiar about you, but I can’t pinpoint what. Shorry.” I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, pick a twenty-euro bill, and set it beside me on the carpet. “This is for the drinks.”

His emerald gaze lowers to the money but his features show no reaction. He sits on the bedside, facing me. “Remember art school? We were eighteen.”

Of course, I remember art school, but it happened in another life. I slap my forehead. “Eighteen! Dude, that was twenty years ago!”

“I took dancing classes, and you music. You were gonna be the next rock star.”

“Yeah.” I chortle. Becoming a rock star was one of the many dreams that never happened. But I knew a dancer at the time? At the same school? I squint and concentrate on digging in my long-buried school memories.

“We weren’t hanging out much,” he says, “so I’m not very surprised you don’t remember. I probably didn’t make a big impression. But I remember you well.”

He lets that last line hang, and although curiosity nearly has me pull my hair out, I don’t want to push him. Something tells me he’ll explain in due time.

What I do remember from school is being so bewitched by my gorgeous girlfriend that nothing else mattered. The other pupils, the teachers, the classes, everything is a distant blur.

His stomach grumbles. He mock-punches it and exclaims with a sheepish clown expression, “Oops, even a harlequin needs to eat. Let’s order something.” He reaches for his phone on the side table and scrolls with a finger. “You like tapas?”

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” A blatant lie. Alcohol always awakes an insatiable hunger for snacks, but I don’t want to make him order anything for me. I honestly don’t know what to think of us at this moment. I’m attracted to him like hell, but I’m also afraid of provoking a rejection that will be a hard lesson to pay and only cause me to drink more.

“Okay.” He sighs and puts his phone down. “They should be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Right.”

An uncomfortable silence settles. Maybe I should be going. But Mira-Me is asleep in a room nearby, and I can’t leave her like this. Should I wake her? What if she’s too tired to walk, will I have to carry her all the way back to our hotel? I’m not sure I’m up to that.

Robin folds his hands in his lap and breaks the quiet between us. “So, I wanted to be a dancer, but a toe injury stopped me from pursuing that dream. I dropped out of school and wandered around without a goal or purpose. Lived on the street, traveled from town to town. That’s when I was drinking.” He pauses to send me a nod, referring to what he’d said earlier. “One day, I came across a circus and made friends with one of their clowns. He inspired me to learn juggling, balancing, and tightrope walking, and he taught me goofy clowning skits, which was a lot of fun. But instead of staying in the enclosed circus world, I wanted to go broader and do my tricks as a street performer. It allowed me to be more in touch with people, and I could use a lot more improvisation. Which is very liberating, but also a constant challenge. I love that duality. It keeps me sharp.”

“But you’re also doing acrobatics?”

“Yes, Lola and I are doing indoor shows. Usually booked by town officials or private promoters. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to make a living.”

“Impreshive. I didn’t know this way of life still exishted.” I stifle a yawn. The booze is making me sleepy. “Well, the musichian dropped out, too, went to polishe academy, was a cop for a few years until they kicked him for shubstance abuse, then converted to bar goon and bodyguard slash chauffeur. Long shtory short.”

“What about women? Are you still with that Kathryn beauty you were dating?” He throws me a pillow. “Here, be a bit more comfortable.”

“Thanks.” I prop the pillow behind my head and shoulders. But shouldn’t have done that. The heavenly comfort of the fluff makes me even sleepier, my eyes closing. “No, Kathryn no more. No more.” And it doesn’t even hurt to say her name.

****

I wake up from a warm hand on my arm.

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