Hey, it’s better than snacking on empty calories. How do you think I stay in such great shape?
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, like a reflex, I open Grindr first. It’s almost hilarious how many people are in my area right now. The sheer volume of available hook-ups is staggering. And I’m not usually someone who has trouble deciding on things, but evenmyhead is spinning from all the available cock in my immediate area.
Not that I would need Grindr to find a hook-up right now. I could just turn to my left—or right—and choose. A quick smirk and a nod toward the bathroom, and I could be bent over getting exactly what I want in seconds. What Ineed.
But because I’m me, that seems a little too easy. I’ve always enjoyed a challenge… Maybe we could callthatmy downfall. I’m forever more attracted to the guys I can’t have, which becomes a problem I refuse to address.
Not that I’m opposed to meeting up with the dudes who hit me up on Grindr. It’s always fun, and it always gets me off—well, most of the time—the way I need it. Still, I know that swinging a dick in any direction right now, in a gay bar at Pride, is only going to get me so far.
Maybe we’ll try something else. It’s Pride…
I’d like to get on my knees and work for it a little.
Waving off Nick when he gives me the silent nod about another drink, I leave the bar, weaving through muscle, toward the back of the crowded dance floor. I reach the restroom and slink around the corner, not at all surprised to find many guys, doing everything from pissing—which is what you’re supposed to do in here—to making out, to bickering and laughing and fixing their faces in the mirror.
My eyes land on an empty stall and I push my way inside it, closing the door behind me. No lock…Why am I not surprised?
I don’t have to use the bathroom, but I’m in here, and I still don’t really know why. So my instincts take over again and I lift the phone I’m clutching in front of my face, checking Grindr once more. I think a lot of these guys are actuallyinthe bathroom I’m in right now, which has me chuckling.
Trevvie P… In your area. Quite literally. He’s within a few feet.
The walls of the rickety stalls shift a bit when someone hastily enters the stall next to mine and closes the door hard. I glance away from my phone screen, raising a brow at the sound of a long sigh. It’s almost jittery.Ragged. Like this person shuffled into the bathroom stall to escape from something, and now he’s finally able to breathe.
The wall that separates us moves again, as if he just slumped his body against it. It must be abigbody… Not that a majority of the dudes in this club right now aren’t huge. It’s pretty common. There’s a ton of beefcake around.
But something has me intrigued by the form on the other side of this wall. The way I can hear him breathing over the noise. The way I feel like Iknowhe’s hiding in there.
What are you hiding from, mystery man?
Inching closer to the wall, my hand slips my phone away into my pocket as I lean in, listening. I can feel him in there, only an inch of hollow metal separating us. I feel him moving, breathing and maybe… running his fingers through his hair.
What does he look like? Is he really as big as it feels like he might be? Tall, built…
Is he tan? Dark, or light skinned? Is his hair dark like mine, or light… or some other color? Does he even have hair?
Tattoos, piercings, big hands, straight teeth, full lips…
The man on the other side of this wall could lookanytype of way, and that brand of enigma has my spine tingling with excitement. My fingers lift tentatively, brushing on the solid surface. I hear him mutter a hushed, “Fuck,” and my balls thump.
I need…
My lips part, like maybe I’m going to ask him a question, but I’m not really sure what it would be. Then my eyes fall, and my head tilts, a slow, sly smirk washing over my mouth.
Well, now I know it’s meant to be.Kismet.
There’s a hole in the bottom of the wall. A glory hole.
Fucking kismet at Pride.
Crouching down, I assess the hole. I can see into his stall through it, making his legs visible. He’s wearing shorts, but not the skimpy ones a lot of the guys are wearing today. They’re regular men’s shorts. In fact, they’re khakis. Longer and a bit too baggy. Not something I, or any of my gay friends, would ever be caught dead wearing.
They’re straight guy shorts.
My gaze narrows as I peer through the hole at the stranger’s legs. They’re long, from what I can gather with a limited view. Muscular calves dusted in light hair. He’s white, but with a bit of glow to his complexion…
Hm.
Suddenly, the stranger starts to move. He’s kind of pacing in there, like he’s stressed out about something.