Page 1 of Fitch

ONE

DOMINIC LOWING

“Leave your car,”I said to Nolan. “Come back and get it in the morning.”

He nodded. “Night,” he said, and we went in separate directions.

Nolan was a good mate and colleague. He was like me in a lot of ways: driven and smart, and gay. I respected him, and there were few people I could say that about.

We were also both drunk. It’d been a long week, and after a few too many whiskies, he was being a good guy and going home, and unlike him, I was not.

I was in a mood and hungry for something only a certain thing would satisfy.

I had an appetite I was tired of suppressing.

Not that I’dsuppressedit, per se. My closest friends knew I preferred much younger men. But no one else did. I’d tried to ignore my desires and date men closer to my age, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore, to dismiss, to quash down.

I wanted what I wanted.

I wanted a man who played the part. Who played up to my appetite and fed my soul.

There was one boy who I’d had a few times. A rent boy. I didn’t even know his name. But he certainly knew what I liked.

He normally hung around Wylde Street—I’d seen him when we arrived—but he was gone now. Would I find him at midnight on Oxford Street?

Highly unlikely. He’d be with some other lucky guy, for sure.

But I went looking anyway.

I might not find the man I craved, but I’d definitely find one to quench my thirst tonight.

As I rounded the corner onto Oxford, the sounds of music, laughter and chatter got louder. The neon lights and crowds were a familiar feel, and the Friday night vibes made me smile.

I liked Oxford Street.

There was a sense of community here. One I’d not had when I was a younger man, and I appreciated it, if not for myself, for the younger queer guys who got to enjoy a night out with friends without fear or shame.

I was glad they had that here.

I was glad I had it now.

God, shake off the morose funk, Dominic.

See? I was in a mood.

I needed to unwind, to let it all go. To destress, to be happy. To be me. I needed to go to that place only one thing could take me to.

I needed to find myself a?—

“Oh, sorry.” A guy stepped out of a store, looking back and laughing at something, and ran straight into me. I had to catch his arm to stop him from falling. He was young, maybe twenty years old; he was a foot shorter than me, small frame, big familiar blue eyes, and a smile that stole my breath.

Him. It was him.

The boy I’d had a few times. The boy who knew what I liked.

Then he looked me up and down, his tongue teasing the corner of his mouth. “Oh. Hi. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Oh yeah. He was exactly what I needed to find myself.

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