Page 3 of Gin & Sin

“Whenever I want.”

“I’ll check in before we leave?”

“Please do.”

Michael wraps his lips around his straw and takes a sip. “Ooh, delicious. See ya later, Kit.”

“See ya.”

I watch him saunter away, swaying his hips. As soon as he’s gone, I deflate a little bit. I already know the drill. I’ll indulge in whatever he wants to give me and wake up hoping he’s gone and not expecting a repeat. The cycle is never-ending, but I wouldn’t know how to end it unless I plan on being celibate, and that doesn’t sound appealing at all.

For once, I wish someone interesting would walk through the door. Maybe that’s what it would take to get me to settle down for a little while. I guess for tonight, I’ll have to make do with another gorgeous guy I won’t remember a month from now.

There are worse problems to have.

TWO

STEWART

I swearmy feet are frozen in place.

What was I even thinking coming here? I know I need to step out of my comfort zone, but straight into a gay bar might be too much. With my hands in my jacket pockets, I glance around the full parking lot. The sidewalk out front has several groups of people walking towards the bar too. I’ve heard nonstop chatter from the students about how amazing it is, but what triggered my curiosity was hearing the same from my much older peers.

Besides, I don’t have todoanything. I can just go inside and have a drink. It’s a smart first step into my new single life. I never thought I’d be divorced and ready to finally accept my attraction to men, but life is a constant surprise. The chance of bumping into a student I know is high, but I remind myself that I have just as much right to be here as they do. It’s not like I’ll be dancing on the tables.

With one last deep breath and my mental pep talk doing its job, I open the door and walk into Moby’s.

It only takes one step inside for my anxiety to kick in. I back up, but I’m blocked by more people entering. I’ll take it as a sign and force myself to move. My sweater feels too warm suddenly,and as I tug on the collar, I mentally kick myself for choosing it instead of a t-shirt.

Somehow, I get my feet to move me in the direction of the bar. A drink should help me relax and give me something to do besides staring like a deer in headlights. The bar is nicer than I imagined, with clean floors and good lighting, and it even smells nice, like leather and wood and…men.

My stomach does a little twist as I find a spot behind a group of three guys near the bar to wait my turn. There are men here.Queermen. Men who might be interested in me.

I cross my arms over my chest, then drop them so I seem open, busying myself by looking around. Every table is full, but what stands out is that it’s not all college students. There are some older men and women in the place too. That’s positive.

To my left are three guys wearing black t-shirts with a white whale on the front. The image brings a smile to my face. Moby Dick. I get it now. One of the guys has shockingly blue hair that’s long down the middle but shaved on the sides. I can’t see his face because of how he’s standing, but the other two guys are facing me. One is tall, with an athletic build and a sweet face, while the other looks more like a model with dark, stylish hair and sharp features. Both look older than your average college student.

Another man joins them, and my thoughts stutter as he glances up and meets my gaze. Holy Hemingway. He’s… gorgeous. He’s tall and built, but it’s his kind eyes, jovial smile, and thick beard that have my mouth watering. When he pushes past his friends and heads intently in my direction, my nerves kick up, but I force myself to stay put and not tear off running.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches me. His voice is deep and confident, as he should be with a face like that.

“Hello.”

“I’m Kit. One of the owners.” He extends his hand and I shake it. “First time here?”

I laugh nervously. “I guess it shows.”

“Nah. I’m just aware of the usual faces around here, and yours is new. What’s your name?”

“Stewart. I work at the university.”

Kit nods as his eyes roam across my face. “Doing what?”

“Teaching.”

“You’re a professor. What subject?”

“LGBTQ Studies. Gender and sexuality.”

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