A gay story: Don't Look Back Ch. 12 By the time Lee released him, Marshall’s breath was coming in heavy gasps and his head was spinning—and the wannabe dance partner had disappeared. Guess he could catch a clue. Marshall didn’t mind. There were plenty more where he came from. Including the sexy man who’d just kissed him stupid.
“Wanna dance, cowboy?” Lee asked in a sultry voice.
Marshall broke into a wide grin. “Hot damn, you know it!”
“Then don’t you think you should get up? I don’t see that dance floor moving up here anytime soon.”
Warmth spread through Marshall’s cheeks, and he heard Roy snicker. But he didn’t mind. There wasn’t anything but love behind those words. Love and a bit of fun.
He waited for Lee to rise before leaping to his feet. Putting his hands on Marshall’s hips, Lee said, “C’mon, let’s show ’em how it’s done.” To Roy, he added, “If that pretty boy gets back with the drinks, can you pick up the first round? I’ll catch the next.”
“You got it, Lee.”
“Then let’s go.” He swatted Marshall’s ass for good measure, and they sashayed their way down onto the dance floor. They found themselves a bit of space on the edge of the floor and began to dance, bumping hips in a slow sensual grind to the rhythm that pulsed around them. They fit together like a hand in a glove, sliding together naturally, like they’d just come off an episode of ‘So You Think You Can Dance.’ Lee guided Marshall with expertise, and he knew how to lift and spin Marshall, making it appear effortless.
Little by little the space around them grew as people stopped to watch and admire. The two men paid them no heed, focused on one another, until the music stopped, when Lee bent Marshall over backward and kissed him. They came upright to thunderous applause. Marshall couldn’t help but notice a few people had their phones out. Taking pictures, no doubt.
“You did good, boy,” Lee praised him, and Marshall warmed to his words.
Just then the music changed, and the dancers re-arranged themselves into lines. The boys engaged in some good ole scooting and booting before finally leaving the dance floor for the table. The drinks had arrived while they were gone. They slid back into their places, dropped the shots into the beers and drank.
“That server sure seemed disappointed you weren’t here,” Roy teased. “Kept asking about you. Wanted to know if you were taken.”
“What did you tell him?” Marshall asked.
Roy shrugged. “Said if he wanted to know so bad, he should ask Lee.”
Marshall kicked him underneath the table, and Roy laughed.
Lee leaned over and pinched Marshall’s cheek between thumb and finger. “Aw, what’s the matter, sweetums, feelin’ a mite jealous?”
“No, of course not. I just thought he was trashy, that’s all.”
That produced more guffaws from Lee and Roy.
“I’m not jealous!” Marshall protested.
Lee clapped him on the back and grinned. “Oh no, not much you aren’t!”
Blondie chose that moment to walk up to the table, producing more hoots of laughter from Lee and Roy, and little enthusiasm from Marshall. The server tossed his long hair back, away from his face, and batted his eyes straight at Lee, ignoring Marshall’s presence entirely. So much so, he stepped on Marshall’s foot in his eagerness to get to Lee.
“Goddammit, those are new boots!” Marshall spluttered. The server paid him no heed and leaned around him, his attention all on Lee.
“Can I get you something else, sugah?” There was no mistaking what the blond was offering. And it wasn’t liquid refreshment. At least, nothing that came from the bar.
It took all of Marshall’s self-control not to lean his chair back onto two legs and block the server’s way, but he didn’t do it.
“Yes, you can.” Lee’s voice was deceptively calm. Marshall recognized the don’t-fuck-with-me undertones. He returned his chair to its original position and kept quiet.
“What can I get you, handsome?”
“Some respect for my partner,” Lee replied. “And an apology for stepping on his foot.” Lee slid an arm about Marshall’s shoulders, his message clear.
Marshall felt his heart expand a hundredfold, and he reveled in the security and love that was Lee. He looked up at Blondie, who’d thrust out his lower lip in a pout, undoubtedly hoping to gain sympathy from Lee. Marshall could have told him he was barking up the wrong tree there.
Lee cleared his throat with purpose. Blondie backed up a pace.
“I… I’m sorry,” he muttered in a voice that barely carried over the music. Marshall glanced at Lee, who nodded.
“Apology accepted. And can we have another round of the same, please?” Marshall said.
“Yes, sir. Right away.” Marshall thought if Blondie were wearing a skirt, he would’ve curtsied. Instead he simply turned and shuffled toward the bar, a whole lot less sass in his step, and a whole lot more contrite.
“You see? Anyone can be trained, if you know how to do it right.” Lee reached for his beer with his free hand, a twinkle in his eye as he observed Marshall over the rim of the glass.
“Is that so? I’m guessing you mean me?” Marshall couldn’t help but stare into Lee’s dark blue eyes. He tried not to smile, but he wasn’t that good at dissembling, tending to wear his heart on his sleeve. When it came to Lee, anyway.
“Well, he sure doesn’t mean me.” Roy snorted.
They all laughed at that, and any lingering tension dissipated. The chastened server returned with their drinks, and a sunnier disposition.
“You know what, I think I see a pretty little filly that needs some attention. I’ll catch up with you.” Roy rose, took his beer and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Lee and Marshall alone.
“Hey, Lee, long time no see!”
Another country heard from. Lee turned toward the newcomer.