A gay story: This Place could Eat Him Alive Pt. 03 Having reached the two-date mark, things were still uncertain between me and Brent. Sometimes I believed we were, or would be, boyfriends. But other times I thought I was jumping the gun, and that it was smarter to take things slow and keep my options open. After all, now that I’d been with Brent, I knew I still had something to offer. Maybe I needed to see what else was out there for me.
Or maybe I was just scared to get too invested in one person too quickly. My last relationship had been something of a disaster. Eli was my age and at a similar point in his career, but he was married, and ultimately gave up and dumped me because he couldn’t risk his wife finding out. It was one of those situations where your friends keep telling you this isn’t a good idea, and they end up being right.
Brent wasn’t married, but he was young: 27, while I was 43. And he was almost too attractive. I wasn’t going to be so quick to commit this time. I’d had enough of lonely nights crying over something that was never going to work. Or so I told myself.
So, about a week after my second date with Brent, I made a conscious decision to go back to the gay club I’d frequented back in the days before I met Eli. I didn’t dance, but I often chatted up guys at the bar and had a good time. Sometimes I clicked with someone and we’d hook up. Usually just once. If they texted or called again, I wouldn’t answer. It helped me get over Eli, and the casual sex was satisfying in a mindless sort of way.
Showing up there was a little strange. It had been years since I’d gone, and the club had changed some. But it was still the same basic setup: dance floor, bar, and the stage for bands. A few small tables near the stage.
There were a few regulars I’d gotten to know a little, when I’d gone in often. I immediately spotted one of them: Eddie, a friendly guy and expert dancer who everyone knew. He wasn’t my usual type, so we never got together, but I’d talked with him before over drinks. He had an ageless quality; he might have been anywhere between 30 and 45. I went over to say hello, hoping he would remember who I was.
He did. “Hey, Drew! Long time no see. Where you been at, man?”
“Around. You know, work and all that,” I replied. “I seem to have become an adult somehow.”
“Hahah, not me! Never.” He grinned. “You want to have a drink and catch up a little? Dance floor is still pretty slow at this hour.”
One drink soon became two, after which I stopped, but Eddie kept going. He was doing his version of flirting: playfully pushing me in the shoulder, leaning towards me, and looking me up and down. He was always more aggressive than I liked, but he had a certain appeal. What you saw was what you got, with Eddie. And he wasn’t bad-looking, if you could tolerate the tattoos covering his arms and chest (most including some variety of skull) and black eyeliner. Even his hands and neck were inked.
At some point he asked, “you been seeing anyone?”
“Sort of,” I replied. “Nothing too serious. But there’s a guy.”
“Oh yeah? How about sharing him with me? I’m bored of all these same fuckoffs I meet here.”
“I don’t think so. He’s too hot to share.” It sounded like a joke, but it wasn’t. I had no interest in being with Brent and anyone else at the same time.
“Wow, man. What are you doing here by yourself then, if you got such a great catch?”
It wasn’t a bad question. “I don’t know,” I said. “Just wanted a change of pace, I guess.”
“Yeah dude, I get that. Nobody wants a ball and chain, right?” He downed what must have been his fourth shot since the ten minutes we’d been sitting there. The man could drink like nobody else I’d ever seen. Yet he never seemed to get staggering-drunk.
I liked Eddie better than I remembered. Maybe now I was mature enough not to judge his eccentricities. I started to make more eye contact, and smile more. I laughed at his jokes. I had a third drink, finally, after he offered multiple times to buy me one.
After a while he said, “hey Drew I want to go dance, you gonna hang out for a little while?”
“Are you asking me to?”
“Hell yes I am. And I won’t be long, just gonna bust a move with those guys over there and then I’ll be right back.” His hand encircled my wrist. “So don’t go anywhere.”
True to his word, he danced only briefly. He was a pleasure to watch, really quite a talent. Then he returned, and asked if I wanted to go somewhere.
“Sure, why not. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. What did you have in mind?”
“Tell you what. We go back to my place and then decide from there. Cool?”
“Okay.” It’s not like I didn’t know what would probably happen if we went back to his place. And I was ready for it.
“You know,” he said as we were walking back, “I always thought you were a slick motherfucker. You had game, except you never really hit on anyone. But I was like, damn I want to be sharp like that. You had it all together. Still do.”
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to hear this. In fact, it sealed the deal for me: I was going to hook up with Eddie. It’s possible to know when you’re being given a line, but that doesn’t always mean the line doesn’t work.
I did think about Brent. Actually, part of my mind was on him the whole time. When Eddie pushed me onto the bed, laughing. When we had all our clothes off and started jerking each other’s dicks. When I got so hard I thought I would cum too soon.
I was thinking about Brent watching us. About him stroking himself, unable to help it as he saw us both approaching orgasm. I forced myself to get him out of my mind and focus on Eddie so I could last longer.
But right before I came, I had an image of Brent above me. His chest flexing, nipples hard. His eyes burning into mine, slipping his cock into my hole and starting to fuck me, deep and slow. My cock throbbed and I could almost feel Brent against my prostate. I let out a couple of strangled cries and then I was done for, cumming over Eddie’s hand.
I almost didn’t realize Eddie had reached his peak too, until he groaned and I felt the warm spray across my chest and neck.
Well, I thought. I guess this counts as a substitution-fuck. What was I doing?
Eddie had no idea what I’d been thinking about, of course. He sighed, sat up, and held out his hand for a fist bump. “That was a great cum,” he said.
“Yeah, same here. It’s good to see you again. Mind if I use your shower?” I wanted to be alone.
“Sure man, go for it.” He flopped back onto the bed.
I showered quickly, got dressed, and gave him my number to put in his phone. “I’ll see you around,” I said. “It was fun.”
“See ya. Take care.” There was nothing different about his voice. It was as if we’d just played a game of pickup basketball or had a meal together. Eddie was easy. Easy Eddie, I thought, rather unkindly. But I still liked him just fine.
I had to reckon with the fact that no matter who else I was with, I might end up thinking about Brent. Did I have a choice? There’s nothing I hate more than not having a choice.
I knew Brent wouldn’t find out about this. His circle and Eddie’s didn’t overlap at all. Still, I had caused myself some confusion. Instead of solving the problem of what Brent and I were and where we were going, I’d made it more complicated.
It was hard to sleep that night. What had I said to Eddie about being an adult now? It wasn’t true.