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I just landed back in Portland. My trip went great, but it's so nice to be back home, where I can get things back into a normal routine. I didn't get as much work done on my story as I wanted, but I made sure to fill my time with all the stuff I can't do back home!
My alarm wakes me up as usual. I shut it off quickly, and try not to make too much noise as I put on my workout clothes. When I get to the fitness center, I have the place to myself. I pick out an exercise bike, pop in my earphones, and start spinning away. About thirty minutes later, I make my way to the weights and do some reps at several of the machines while the next few songs play. I push myself so hard I get out of breath. I wipe the sweat from my forehead, take a nice, big swig of water, and head back up to the room.
I step inside, and notice Eric’s still sound asleep in bed. I turn on the bedside lamp and nudge him awake.
He looks up at me as he rubs his eyes. “Oh shit, what time is it?”
“Six-thirty.”
“Fuck.” He sits straight up, still rubbing his eyes. The bedsheets slide off his body, exposing his hairy chest and abs. “I must’ve not set my alarm last night.”
“I still need to iron my outfit, so you can shower first if you want.”
“Yeah, all right. I’ll make it quick, I promise.” He flips the covers over, revealing the rest of his body. I get little time to admire it as he hurriedly walks to the bathroom and starts up the shower.
I plug in the iron and grab the shirt, pants, and other clothes I’ll wear today. As soon as the iron heats up, I start on my shirt. I’m about halfway done when I hear the water turn off. Eric steps out a few moments later. He has one towel tied around his waist, and another in his hands, furiously rubbing his hair dry. I raise my eyebrows. “That was fast.”
He makes his way to the dresser. “I told you. The army would be proud of how quick I can get in and out of the shower. I’m just glad I got everything ironed last night.” He tosses both damp towels onto the bed, retrieves a fresh pair of underwear, and bends down to pull them on.
I finish ironing my shirt and move on to my pants as he continues getting dressed. As soon as I’m done, I unplug the iron and go to take my own shower. I try beating his time, but I’m unsuccessful. I dry off and step out. Eric’s fully dressed and ready to go at this point, so I get ready as quickly as I can.
We head down to eat breakfast, then hop in the car and go to our client for our final day of training for the week. Today goes just like the four days before it. During lunch, I text James and tell him I’d give him a call when I get back to the hotel after training. We finish lunch, meet with the last groups for the week, then head back to the car.
As Eric pulls out of the parking garage, I tap him on the arm. “By the way, in case you didn’t notice, I finished off the vodka last night.”
He chuckles. “I didn’t notice, but we certainly need to remedy the situation.” He makes a few turns, then pulls into the parking lot of the liquor store. We head inside to buy some more vodka and mixers, then continue on our way back to the hotel.
We step inside the room, and I pull out my phone. “I told James I’d give him a call when we got back here.”
“That sounds good. I was thinking of doing some laps in the pool, so I can go do that while you talk with him. We can grab dinner afterwards.”
I sit in a chair beside the bed and send a text to James asking him if he’s free and ready for me to call. While I wait for him to respond, I watch as Eric gets his bathing suit from the dresser and starts getting undressed. He hangs up his shirt, then takes off his pants, neatly folding them and setting them atop the bed. He’s in just his underwear, and, with bathing suit in hand, turns around as if to walk toward the bathroom. He hesitates for a second, turns back around, and mutters under his breath, “Oh, whatever.” He then slides his boxer briefs down to the floor, lifts them up with his foot, and puts them on top of his other folded clothes.
Forget the vodka. Eric’s naked body is way more intoxicating than anything you can get at a liquor store. I study him as much as I can while I have the chance.
He has some nice muscle definition—just the right amount, not too bulky or thin, but a surprising amount given the kind of job he and I have. It’s obvious he takes care of himself. Must be all that swimming he does. And I know swimmers usually shave off all their body hair, but Eric’s kept a fair amount on. He definitely has more than James, but it’s just the right amount for his body. I’m finding it difficult to imagine what Eric would look like with a smooth chest and torso, but I don’t really want to imagine that in the first place. I think he’s pretty perfect as-is. A nice, lush treasure trail leads from his belly button straight down to his bush and cock and balls. Damn, now that’s one thing I’d love to see hard.
My phone vibrates, and I accidentally drop it out of surprise. “Whoops,” I mutter as I pick it up and see a text from James letting me know he’s free. I tap on the screen to call him. By this time, Eric’s begun putting on his swimsuit, inserting one foot at a time through the legs, pulling it up to just a few inches below his belly button, and tying the drawstring tight.
James picks up. “Hey, cutie.”
“Hey, James. How are things going over there?”
Eric gives me a quick wave, turns around, and heads out to the pool.
I hear the sound of kids laughing on the other end, and James shushing them. “Oh, we’re doing great. We’re just getting ready to have dinner in a few minutes. How about you?”
“I’m doing pretty good over here, too. Training’s been going really well. Eric’s doing most of the work, but I help during his presentations and answer some odd questions here and there from the groups we’re meeting with.”
“That’s awesome! I’m sure having you there is a big help for him.”
“I think so, too. How are Paul and the kids doing?”
“They’re getting all settled in at Dad’s place for now. The judge in Michigan wants Paul to demonstrate he can care for the kids all on his own, which would involve him getting his own place, but the judge is thankfully giving him some time to get established here first.”
“Wow. That’s good to hear the judge is really understanding of Paul’s situation.”
“You’re right about that. We got the kids enrolled in school and they start on Monday.”
“That was quick.”
“Yeah, everything around here has been happening so fast, it’s hard to keep up.”
I stand up and look out the window. “Are the kids having an easy time adjusting?”
“They’ve been fine. They were so excited to see their Grandpa Willie. Plus, they’re just happy that they’re in a mostly stable environment now.”
“I bet.”
“Well, enough about them. I really miss you, cutie.”
“I miss you, too. At least I’m halfway done here; I’ll be getting back in just a week!”
I hear James breathe a sigh of relief on the other side. “Thank goodness for that. The little time we had at the airport was not enough for me. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”
“It feels that way to me, too.”
“Are you and Eric doing anything fun this weekend?”
“We’re taking it easy tonight, but we’re going to try playing some Blackjack tomorrow.”
“Uh oh. Don’t gamble too much, you hear?”
I chuckle. “I won’t. I have a strict budget. Plus, Eric’s been great at teaching me strategy.”
“Well, I’ll cross my fingers that you’ll win big.”
“We’ll see. Oh, get this—I also talked him into going to a drag show.”
He gasps. “Wow! I’m surprised he would do something like that.”
“Me too, but the more I’ve been getting to know him, the more I realize he’s super cool with everything about me. I thought Gary and Harry would be the only straight guys like that.”
“I bet. It’s nice to have a coworker who is that supportive. That’s something I never really had working at Dad’s firm. I mean, Dad’s pretty cool, but it’s different since he’s family.”
“Yeah, I understand. How are things at work, by the way?”
“It’s slowed down a lot, which is nice, because Dad and I are spending a lot more time with Paul and the kids, helping them get settled in. But hopefully things should start picking up in the next few weeks or so.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Yep. Well, dinner’s just about done, so I should let you go.”
“All right. Enjoy dinner! I really can’t wait until next week when I come home.”
“I can’t either, cutie. It’ll be here before you know it.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I’m still wearing my work clothes, so I pick out a more comfortable shirt and pair of pants and change into them. I sit down at the desk and play on my laptop to pass the time. Some time later, I hear the lock click and the door open.
Eric steps through the door with a towel wrapped around his waist. “Hey Brad, do you mind if I take a quick shower before we head down to dinner?”
“That’s fine; I’m in no rush.”
With that, he goes straight into the bathroom, closes the door, and starts up the shower. Not long after, the sound of the water stops, and he steps out.
I look up to ask him a question, but freeze when I realize he has no towel around his waist this time. I stammer a bit, trying to get my words out. “We—we’re still doing laundry tonight, right?”
He walks to the bed, picks up the same boxer briefs he had on earlier today, and begins putting them on. “Yeah. The hotel has washers and dryers on the second floor. I figure we can take everything down and get it started while we eat.” He pulls his underwear up and reaches below the waistband with his left hand and adjusts himself.
I close my laptop and stand up. “In that case, I can start getting all my clothes together.” I walk past him, look inside the closet, and find two canvas laundry bags. I take them down off the shelf, and start putting my dirty clothes in one while Eric puts on a shirt and some denim jeans.
He sits on the edge of the bed and starts putting on his socks and shoes. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad it’s the weekend.”
“Same here. It’s been exhausting meeting with people for eight hours each day this week, just because it’s different from what I’m used to. I’m happy we finally get some time to have fun.”
He finishes tying his shoes, then quickly gathers all of his dirty clothes. “All right; ready to go?”
“Sure.” We take the laundry bags and head down to the second floor, find the laundry room, and start a few loads going, then make our way to the restaurant.
As we eat, I tell him how Paul and the kids are getting settled in.
He smiles. “That’s good to hear. I was hoping the whole moving process was going to go smoothly for them. I’m glad it has been.”
We finish up dinner, then go back to the laundry room. We transfer our clothes to the dryers and head back up to the room.
We step inside, and I walk over to the kitchenette. “Want me to make you a drink?”
He thinks for a second, then smiles. “Yeah. Tell you what—I’ll try one of your lemon drops this time.”
“Awesome! Coming right up.” I start gathering all the things to make two.
He sits on the side of the bed. “So, what do you feel like doing while we wait for the clothes to dry?”
“Can I practice some more Blackjack with you?”
He grins. “Hell yeah; I could do that all night.”
I finish making the drinks. We sit at the table, and he shuffles the deck of cards a few times and deals out hands over and over. We work on strategy—thinking about the right move to make with the cards on the table—and he teaches me when to do more advanced things like doubling down and splitting. We keep practicing for about an hour.
I rub my hands together. “I think I’m finally getting the hang of this.”
“Great! You’ll be taking down the house in no time.”
I down what little is left of my drink. “Do you think the clothes are dry yet?”
“Probably. Let’s go check on them.”
We do, and they’re certainly dry. We gather them all back in the canvas laundry bags and head back upstairs. We dump everything onto the bed and begin folding. As we do, we make some general plans for tomorrow. Exercising early in the morning for five days in a row is enough for me, so I decide to skip tomorrow’s workout and take my time getting up. Eric mentions going to Hoover Dam, so we’ll venture there after breakfast. Then, we’ll get lunch, go to the casino, and finish up by going to the drag show later in the evening.
We put all our folded clean clothes neatly back in the dresser. I look up at Eric. “Hot tub time?”
He chuckles. “You read my mind.”
I retrieve my bathing suit and start taking off my clothes. To my surprise, Eric starts doing the same right next to me. I was pretty sure he would change in the bathroom, but am happy he feels comfortable enough to change right in front of me, acting as nonchalant as ever.
I make some more drinks, and we bring them outside to the pool area. As we walk to the hot tub, we notice two women standing in the shallow end of the pool and talking with each other. They look up at us, and we share a quick nod and a smile with them as we pass them by.
I crank up the timer by the hot tub, and we step inside and sit opposite each other. It’s already way past dusk at this point, and while I really wish I could see the stars, the amount of lights in this city make it impossible. I just resign myself to looking at Eric, but he’s not looking at me—he’s ogling the two women in the pool. I try to get his attention. “Eric! Stop staring.”
He looks back at me with a cheesy grin on his face. “Those women are something else, huh?”
I have to admit, even as a gay man, I do think they’re pretty attractive. “Yeah, they’re hot, but you’re a married man. I don’t think Lorna would appreciate you staring at other women.”
He takes a sip of his drink. “Oh, she wouldn't mind, as long as all I do is look.”
I give him a disapproving look, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing to stare at them. I just try to ignore it.
He looks back at me and takes another sip of his drink. “How are you doing over there?”
The jets of water, combined with the feeling that the weekend is upon us, are lulling me into a very relaxed state. “I’m doing pretty good. I’m sorry for what I said earlier. That wasn’t really my place.”
He cracks a half-smile. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
The next few seconds are silent while I think about what to say. “Do you think it’s OK to admire other people even if you’re in a relationship with someone?”
He looks over at the two women in the pool. “Like how I’m doing with them?”
I nod.
He tilts his head and thinks for a moment. “I don’t think there’s any harm in looking. It’s not like all your impulses and urges disappear the moment you get together with someone. I think it’s OK to look, as long as you don’t act on those urges, unless both people in the relationship discuss it and agree that that’s acceptable.”
I find myself completely agreeing with him. The two of us have been here almost a week—him away from Lorna, and me away from James. It’s almost natural that Eric would be looking at those women like he is now.
Then again, the same could be said for me, and I’ve been staring Eric up and down every chance I get. I’m in no place to judge.
He glances back at me. “Don’t look now, but I think they’re heading over here.” I quickly peer over, and sure enough, he’s right. A few moments later, the two women reach the hot tub.
One of the women looks at us. “Mind if we join you boys?”
Eric is all too quick to answer. “Not at all. Step on inside; the water’s fine.” They both get in and sit across from each other. He smiles at both of them. “Lovely night tonight, huh?”
The first woman answers. “It is. Can’t complain for it being March.”
He takes a sip of his drink. “Where are you ladies from?”
The same woman answers. “New York.”
“Ah. The city, or upstate?”
“The city.” She points a finger at the woman across from her. “My friend, Rianne, and I came down with our husbands.” She rolls her eyes. “They’re out gambling, of course, on their little boys’ night out. Rianne and I opted instead for a luxurious two-hour massage and extravagant dinner, and we’re just taking it easy the rest of the night.”
Rianne giggles nervously. “Yeah. Hopefully our boys win enough money to pay for everything. Right, Tammy?”
Tammy chuckles. “Of course they will.” She turns her attention to us. “Anyway, what about you boys? You here for business or pleasure?”
Eric answers. “A little bit of both, I guess, but mostly business.” He points to me. “My colleague and I are here from Seattle to train a client on a software project we built.”
Tammy rolls her eyes again. “Oh, computer stuff. You may as well be speaking Greek to me!” We all laugh, then she continues. “So, what do you boys have planned for the pleasure part of your trip?”
I take a sip of my drink as Eric responds. “We’ll try to hit some tourist spots in the morning. I’ve been helping Brad practice some Blackjack, too, so we’ll try our skills out at the tables afterwards.”
Rianne shakes her head. “I hope you two do better than our husbands.”
Eric looks over at her. “Why do you say that?”
She sighs. “They always end up going to the high-stakes tables and losing a bunch of money.”
Tammy scoffs. “Oh, come on, Rianne, they make enough money doing what they do to be able to blow some of it on gambling. Plus, we get to come here and go on vacation. It’s not that bad.”
Rianne nods reluctantly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She looks at me. “Still, though, I hope you’ll do better than them.”
I make the most confident facial expression that I can pull off. “Eric’s been such a great teacher, I doubt we’ll have any problem at the tables.”
Eric grins. “That’s the spirit, Brad!”
Rianne smiles. “Well, we wish you the best of luck.”
I crack a smile. “Thanks.”
Tammy chimes in. “Are you boys up to anything else tomorrow?”
I open my mouth to answer her, but before I get the chance to say anything, Eric speaks up, “Nope, just the sightseeing and the casino.”
I’m taken aback that Eric hadn’t mentioned the drag show, but before the shock wears off, I realize Tammy and Rianne have started standing up. Tammy reaches out and shakes both of our hands. “Rianne and I should get going. It was nice to meet you boys.”
I half-heartedly mutter “Likewise” under my breath. The two women step out, grab their towels, and head inside.
The next few minutes are filled with silence, except for the roaring jets of the hot tub. Eric looks relaxed, but I’m still in shock from his unwillingness to mention the drag show. Is he embarrassed to admit he’s going to one? Or is it something he genuinely forgot? He couldn’t have forgotten—he knew we were going to the casino and seeing all the sights tomorrow. How could it slip his mind? Is he ashamed to be around me?
I try to shove it out of my mind, but it’s hard to keep the shock from turning to anger and brewing inside.
Just then, the hot tub’s jets shut off. Eric opens his eyes, and his meet mine. “Want to stay for another fifteen?”
I try to hide my emotions as much as I can, but I know how perceptive Eric can be. “I’m ready to head inside, actually, but I can start the jets back up if you want to stay longer.”
Sure enough, I could tell Eric knows something is up. A few seconds later, he responds, “That’d be great, if you don’t mind. I’ll come inside in a little bit.”
Without saying another word, I hoist myself out of the hot tub, turn the dial back up to start the jets, then dry off and go back to the room. I take a nice, hot shower to try to calm myself down, and it helps a little bit, but I can’t stop thinking about Eric not bringing up the drag show. I’m beginning to feel like I’m obsessing over it, but it’s something I’m genuinely upset about.
I finish up my shower, dry off, and crawl under the sheets. I lean my head back and close my eyes and try to not concentrate on things. I turn the TV on in an effort to distract myself, and to help pass the time. Eventually, I hear the lock click and the door open as Eric makes his way inside.
He sets his towel and other stuff on a nearby chair. “Hey, Brad, is everything all right?”
I take a deep breath. “Not really.”
“OK. How about I take a quick shower, and then can we talk?”
I sigh. “That’s fine.”
“All right. I’ll be quick.” He walks to the dresser, grabs a pair of boxer briefs, and walks to the bathroom and closes the door.
AstareGod, I cannot wait to see what tangled webs of interaction ar forthcumming. On vacation right now in the beautiful, but congested, city of Seattle. Not looking forward to the end, but do like the idea of sleeping in my own bed. Hope Brad and Eric enjoy, but return to their own beds.
It's the return of the music videos! I used to post these after some of my other parts in the past. They don't really have anything to do with the story, per se, but they somtimes relate to the thoughts and emotions of Brad (and possibly some of the other characters) in those parts. Plus, they sometimes serve as inspiration when I was writing those parts.
This one is for Part 63, above...
Lady Gaga / Madonna / Freemasons - Perfect Discollusion (Gaga Don't Preach) Mashup Remix by Robin Skouteris Vs Dubtronic
Hopefully I don't forget to post videos for the other parts! There are a few that are perfect, I believe...
Well... Paradise, Nevada is pretty close to Vegas, isn't it? It's almost literally trouble in Paradise!
...
OK, I'll show myself out...
(I can't have been the first person to make that joke...)
I wonder what would be a more fitting word besides "trouble"... Disaster? Kerfuffle? I dunno! Maybe things'll become clearer in the next few parts lol...
I guess it technically could be. Still though, Eric decided not to mention it at all, so it does seem like something he was intentionally hiding. Though I haven't been to one in Vegas, the drag shows there must be a whole other sight to behold.
AstareGod, I cannot wait to see what tangled webs of interaction ar forthcumming. On vacation right now in the beautiful, but congested, city of Seattle. Not looking forward to the end, but do like the idea of sleeping in my own bed. Hope Brad and Eric enjoy, but return to their own beds.
Thanks for the comment, Friend1720! Stay tuned, and you'll definitely see how the webs untangle and tangle themselves right back!
Seattle is so much fun to visit. I don't know when you started reading the story, but right before I started posting it here, I had visited it for the first time, and was planning on moving there. I decided to set the story there to make me feel a bit more connected to the area. I instead moved to the Portland, Oregon area, but I'm close enough to Seattle that it's convenient to go up and visit. You're right--it can definitely get very congested, but whenever I get there, it's worth whatever time I have to spend in traffic. I'm glad you decided to take your vacation there. I assume you're back home now, so I hope you enjoyed your trip and had a safe return home!
And here's the next part! The next couple of parts should be coming out much faster--it shouldn't take me over a month between postings. Enjoy!
---
Part 64
I lie in bed, mindlessly watching the TV as reporters on a local news station cover a minor accident on the nearby freeway. I hear the shower turn off, and a few moments later, Eric steps out of the bathroom in just his boxer briefs. I turn the volume of the TV down.
He sits cross-legged on the bed, facing me. The next several seconds pass, with tense silence, until he speaks up. “How are you doing?”
I sigh. “I’m fine, I guess. Just a little upset.”
He tilts his head. “Upset about what?”
“Well,” I think carefully about what I’m going to say next, “You told those women earlier about us going gambling and seeing the sights and sounds, but I’m curious why you didn’t mention the drag show.”
He averts his eyes and glances at the wall. “I guess—I don’t know—I just wasn’t really sure how to bring it up.”
“Are you afraid to tell people you’re going?”
He looks back at me. “It’s not that I’m afraid. It’s just that,” he thinks for a few seconds, “I just don’t know how people would react.”
I scoff. ‘That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, hear me out. Take Tammy and Rianne for instance. If I told them we were going to a drag show, they may have thought I was gay, or that we were together.”
I narrow my eyes and tilt my head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think it’s a bad thing, but I just wouldn’t want to be mistaken for being gay. I don’t know what I’d say to someone if they did.”
“That’s dumb. Chase thought I was straight at first. It was a really simple misunderstanding, and it took seconds to set things straight, so to speak. I’ve done it hundreds of times.”
“Well, forgive me, but I’ve never had to correct anyone because they’ve gotten my sexuality wrong.”
I roll my eyes. “Lucky you.”
His expression turns to anger. “Hey now, don’t blame me because I was born straight. I may not know firsthand all the struggles and hardships you’ve gone through in your life for being gay, but I’m trying to be as understanding as I can here.”
I scoff. “You’re not being understanding at all. If you were being understanding, you would have no shame about going to a drag show in the first place.”
He must have perceived the derision in my eyes as he lets out a short grunt. “Brad, you know I have no problem with you being gay—”
“You don’t?”
He pauses for a second. “No, I don’t. Do you believe me?”
“I did, but tonight you threw me for a loop.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I didn’t mean to. Listen, I’ve never been to a drag show before, so I’m not sure how to—”
“How to what? Tell two women we don’t even know and won’t ever see again?”
“Well, if you would let me finish, I would have said I wasn’t sure how to bring it up to anyone, yes, Tammy and Rianne included, but even Lorna. I don’t know how exactly she’d take it.”
“Oh, please. After having met her, I know she would be totally OK with it.”
He shakes his head. “I’m glad you’re so perceptive about that, but you’re missing my point.”
“Which is?”
He takes a quick, short breath to calm himself. “I’m happy you have all this figured out already, but this is all very new to me. I never imagined myself going to something like a drag show, or even to a gay bar, for that matter—”
“They’re not that different from straight bars, really.”
He pauses again. “That’s probably the conclusion I would’ve come to as well, but the fact remains that it’s still something I’ve never experienced for myself.”
I scoff. “That’s still a piss-poor excuse for not bringing it up when we were around those two women.”
He sighs and looks back at the wall. “It’s not an excuse—I just thought it would be better not to get into that conversation, because I didn’t feel prepared to back there. Maybe after I’ve—”
“It still sounds like you’re embarrassed to admit you’d be going to one.”
He looks straight at me, anger growing in his eyes. “I’m not embarrassed, it’s just that it’s very new to me, and—”
I roll my eyes again. “Yeah, new to you, you’ve already used that excuse befo—”
He slams his hands on the bed and shouts. “WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP AND LET ME SPEAK?”
His reaction is almost like an invisible wave of energy that pushes me back a bit. He breaks eye contact with me and looks down into his lap, almost as if he’s surprised of his own reaction. I watch as his bare chest expands and contracts as he breathes. The room is silent now except for Eric’s intense breathing, which gradually slows down until it reaches a more normal pace.
He looks back up at me. “Maybe we should cut this conversation short and get some rest. It’s already pretty late, and we’ve both had an exhausting week with training. Let’s get some sleep, and hopefully we’ll have a better day tomorrow.”
I’m still taken aback from Eric’s shouting at me, but find it within myself to utter an “OK”. I shut off the TV and the table lamp beside the bed, and try as hard as I can to get comfortable under the covers. Eric turns off the lamp on his side, and I hear the sound of him slipping off his underwear and getting under the covers. It’s a while before I can fall asleep, with my mind racing over the events that have just transpired over the last hour, but eventually the weariness from the previous week does its magic, and I drift off into dreamland.
* * * * *
Eric’s jostling about wakes me up, and I open my eyes. A good amount of light pours into the room through the window—it might be an hour or two after sunrise. I turn my head and see him sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from me, and rubbing his eyes. The covers slip off his legs as he rises to his feet. Sure enough, just like how we’ve both gone to bed these past few nights, he’s naked as can be. I remember how pissed I was at him the night before, but seeing him in all his naked glory is making me feel a lot different.
He walks to the bathroom and closes the door. A minute or two later, the shower starts up. I rub my own eyes—may as well get up myself. I pick up my phone and check a few things as he takes his shower.
Time passes, the water shuts off, and he comes out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He rummages through his suitcase and fetches some nail clippers. “Morning, Brad. Bathroom’s all yours.”
I set my phone down and walk past him to the bathroom without saying anything. I try my best to fight off a slight headache as I take my own shower. I think I went a little overboard with the vodka last night, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. I start feeling a little lightheaded, so I quickly finish up my shower. I dry off, hang my towel back up on the bar, and step out of the bathroom.
I’m not quite prepared to see what I see when I step out. Eric’s standing at the sink wearing absolutely nothing, leaning over the counter and looking in the mirror with a razor in one hand, shaving his face. I try as hard as I can not to stare, but he notices me anyway when he glances up at my reflection.
He lowers the razor under the running water and rinses off the freshly-shaven facial hair and shaving cream. “That was a quick shower.”
I nervously walk past him toward the dresser and try to act as amiable as possible. “Yeah, I’m just feeling a bit dizzy, probably from too much drinking last night.” I start gathering my clothes for the day and put them on while he finishes shaving. I watch his upper body fill with air as he takes a quick breath. He shuts off the faucet, knocks his razor on the edge of the sink three or four times, then turns around and joins me by the dresser to choose his own outfit for the day.
I sit down to put on my shoes as he rifles through the dresser drawers. I rub my head and groan. “I could really use some coffee to fight off this headache.”
He unfolds a shirt and flaps it a few times to straighten out any wrinkles, then begins slipping his arms through the sleeves. “Yeah, same here. I have a bit of a headache, myself. As soon as we get dressed, let’s grab some breakfast to remedy that.”
I start tying my shoes, and look up at him. “So, do you have any ideas about where we should go after that?”
He finishes pulling on his shirt. The bottom hem of it rests just above his bush. He walks over to the bed and bends down and picks up the same pair of underwear he had on last night while we talked. “I was thinking we could head down to Hoover Dam. They have a visitor center, and you can take a tour of the dam. I thought you’d be interested in doing something like that.”
“Are you kidding? That sounds like something right up my alley.”
“Good.” He steps into his underwear and pulls them up until the waistband rests about halfway between his cock and navel, then grabs the bottom of each leg and pulls them taut until everything is situated just right.
He must not feel modest around me anymore with how nonchalant he’s being about getting dressed—and undressed—in front of me. Either that, or he really likes showing off, and knows I’m enjoying it. I don’t really care which one it is—I’m getting repeated viewings of a man I judge to be very attractive, so I absolutely cannot complain.
He continues, “It’s about a forty-five-minute drive to get there. That takes up most of the morning, but I think it would be worth it to go.”
I finish tying my other shoe. “I agree—it would definitely be worth it. Plus, we’ll have next Saturday to do stuff, right?”
He nods. “Yeah, that’s true.” He takes his pants and begins putting them on, one leg at a time. “Anyway, after we get done with that and head back, it should be time for lunch.”
I sit in silence as he finishes getting ready. He didn’t mention the drag show, but he also didn’t mention gambling either, so I try not to concentrate on it. He finishes tying his shoes, and we make our way down to our hotel’s restaurant for breakfast.
As soon as I take my first sip of coffee, my headache begins to fade away. I’ve felt much worse after drinking way more, so I try to keep things in perspective and be thankful that I’m not feeling as horrible as I’ve felt in the past. I’m also relieved Eric and I are still on speaking terms. Things got so heated the night before, I was worried that this morning was going to be a lot more awkward and uncomfortable than it’s turning out to be. Still, though, I know there are some unresolved concerns about how things went down last night.
The two of us finish up breakfast, make our way to the hotel’s parking garage, and hop in the car. I plug in my phone to play some music while he cranks the engine, and it’s not long before we’re out on the streets and onto the freeway. As we travel down the road, the terrain transitions from flat—way flatter than I’m used to in Seattle—to more and more hilly. We’re both mostly quiet for the entire drive as I look out the window and marvel at how different things look outside from what I’m used to back at home.
As Eric predicted, about forty-five minutes later, we arrive at the visitor center at Hoover Dam. He pulls into the parking lot and parks in a spot close to the entrance. We make our way inside, pay the admission, and begin the guided tour. As soon as we step inside the actual power plant, it gets so loud I can hardly think. The tour guide points out all the equipment and other gizmos and gadgets that keep the plant running and generating power for the surrounding area. Afterwards, we go back outside, and the tour guide continues telling us about the history of the area and rattles off a few other facts about how much power the dam generates.
Eventually, the tour guide frees the group to wander around. Eric and I break away from the rest of the group and walk along the edge. I peer over, and I’m blown away by just the sheer engineering of this thing. I had seen pictures of Hoover Dam before, but it’s never hit me just how large this modern wonder is until right now, looking over the edge and seeing the Colorado River several hundred feet below. A woozy feeling comes over me, and I quickly stand straight back up and focus on the ‘ground’ beneath me.
We continue walking slowly, and I find a small pebble on the sidewalk and mindlessly kick it forward a few feet. “Eric?”
“Yeah?”
I keep staring straight at the ground, kicking that pebble forward. “I just wanted to say… I acted like a huge asshole last night. I was trying to place my own expectations and values on you without really listening to you and understanding your point of view. It was wrong of me to do that, and I’m sorry.”
I look up at him; he looks straight ahead and purses his lips, but speaks a few seconds later. “Thank you for saying that, Brad. Please believe me when I say that I fully and totally accept you for who you are.”
“I do.”
He cracks a half-smile, then looks my way. “Good. You have opened my eyes to lots of things—that’s part of why I really like being around you and doing things with you. I like your confidence. You live your life so openly and unabashedly. I’m glad you have no shame at all about being who you are or doing the things you want to do—like going to a drag show, for instance. There’s not an ounce of me that thinks that’s wrong. But just understand that things like that are really new to me, and sometimes I’m not quite sure how to bring them up in conversation with others.”
“I think I do understand that.”
He nods. “I’m happy to hear that. And I’m really sorry for yelling at you like I did last night.”
I scoff. “Oh, you don’t have to be sorry about that.”
“Yes, I do. I let my anger and frustration get the better of me, and I lost my cool. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.” He places his hand on my shoulder, and we stop walking and face each other. “I don’t want any kind of misunderstanding like the one that happened last night to cause any sort of rift in our friendship. I mean it when I say I like hanging around you. You bring a sense of adventure to my life, and get me to try things I never thought I’d try.”
“Like going to a drag show?”
He chuckles. “Exactly. I don’t want to lose that. Just know that I’m always on your side, OK?”
I smile. “OK. So, are we good?”
He smiles back. “Yeah, we’re good.”
I pull him into a strong hug. “Awesome.” We continue hugging for quite a while, then pull away from one another. A few people walk past us and don’t seem to be paying attention to us, thankfully. I look up at him. “Thanks for being cool with me.”
He shakes his head. “Are you kidding? We’re going to be sharing that room for another week. I can’t stay angry with you for long.”
I smile. We turn and continue walking. He speaks up again, “Do you want to start heading back soon?”
I nod. “I think so. Everything here is impressive to look at, but I think I’ve seen all I wanted to see. What do you think?”
“Same here. We can start going now, and grab lunch as soon as we get back to the city.”
Soon after, we’re in the car and back on the highway. We just spent a couple of hours on the tour and walking around, so after another hour or so in the car, it should be the perfect time for lunch.
He turns his head slightly to glance at me. “You nervous at all about playing some blackjack later today?”
I groan. “Don’t remind me.”
He chuckles. “It won’t be that bad, trust me.” He tries his best to give me a reassuring look while also being attentive to the road. “How much gambling money did you bring?”
“I thought a hundred dollars tonight, and another hundred if we go next weekend, would be good.”
“Perfect. Stick to your limits. It can be really tempting to play with more money if you lose it all. Promise me you won’t do that.”
I nod. “I promise.”
“Good. Don’t be like me and lose all your money, pull out another two hundred, and lose that, too, trying to win it back. It’s not worth it.”
“Oh, god, that sounds terrible.”
He nods. “Yeah. Lorna was really mad at me for that one. Of course, now it’s no big deal, but at the time, I felt like total shit.” He glances at me again. “So, yeah, stick to your limits, and you’ll be just fine.”
To be honest, he’s doing a good job of scaring me from wanting to gamble at all, but if he’s willing to open himself up and go to a drag show, I figure I should be able to take a risk with playing some blackjack. He says it’ll be fun, and that things will be just fine.
Close one .... Brad is getting more than eye candy ... Eric seems to be saying a little adventure is a good thing. Eager to see how this is going to play out!
Close one .... Brad is getting more than eye candy ... Eric seems to be saying a little adventure is a good thing. Eager to see how this is going to play out!
Yeah, that sure got intense there for a little bit, didn't it? Glad our two guys made up.
A little adventure can be a great thing! New experiences help us grow and become better people. I'm glad you're looking forward to more of the story! I should have the next part posted in a couple of days.
As Eric drives us back to the city, the terrain reverses, going from hilly and mountainous back to flat. Traffic gets heavier, and the many tall casino and hotel buildings come into view.
We spend the latter half of the car ride mostly in silence. I contemplate if I’m truly ready to try my luck—and skill—at the tables. To be completely honest, if I didn’t have Eric by my side, I’d be totally freaked out and not know what to do. He has an air about him that makes me feel a bit more confident. I’m just hoping that confidence isn’t misplaced. I close my eyes and pretend I’m back in our hotel room, practicing hand after hand. It’s hard to keep from imagining each and every hand going my way and winning big; truthfully, though, I know that will not be the case. As Eric said, the house always has the edge. I need to be prepared to lose everything I go in with today. As much as it sucks to imagine that, it’s best to set some reasonable expectations before sitting down at the tables.
Before I know it, we pull into the parking garage of the casino. As he rolls down the window to pay for a parking pass, he looks over at me. “You like sushi?”
“Yeah, I love it!”
“Good. This place has fantastic sushi.” He takes his pass, drives into the garage, and parks in the first open spot he sees. The place seems to be crowded just by the number of cars in the garage.
By the time we get inside, my stomach starts to growl. It’s hard to notice, though. The atmosphere in this place is so distracting. Lights are flashing all around, and sounds from the slot machines permeate the air.
He leads me through the gaming floor and to one of what seems like dozens of restaurants in this place. The hostess greets us and seats us at a table.
Eric takes the drink menu into his hands. I watch as his eyes dart back and forth, perusing it. He lowers it and looks at me. “Ever had sake before?”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You know me; I’m never that adventurous. I stick to my tried-and-true lemon drops. Have you?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I’ve had it before. But, since we’re both about trying new things today, would you join me for a glass?”
I tilt my head and try my best to get into an experimental mood. “Sure, why not? We’re in Vegas after all, huh?”
He smiles. “That’s the spirit.”
We look over the food menu and both pick out what looks good to us, then place our order with the server. A few minutes later, he brings two small glasses of sake to the table.
Eric raises his glass, and I clink mine with his. As soon as I take a sip, I grimace and try my hardest to swallow. He notices my expression and laughs. “What’s wrong?”
I finally bring myself to speak. “This could take some getting used to!”
He cracks a half-smile. “Yeah, it took me a while before I started liking sake, myself.”
“What even is sake?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Wow, with you being a lover of sushi, I’m surprised you don’t even know.”
“Like I said, I stick to my lemon drops.”
He nods. “Yep, that’s right.” He gives me a smirk, then continues, “It’s made from fermented rice.”
A puzzled expression washes over my face. “Rice?”
He nods again. “Yeah.”
I’m bewildered. “How in the hell do they even get alcohol out of rice?”
He laughs. “Beats the shit out of me, but it tastes good.”
I take another sip, but make the same face. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can stomach this.”
He tilts his head. “Really?”
“Yeah. It’s way too different of a taste for me. I don’t know if I can handle any more. Can you finish it for me?”
He laughs. “You trying to get me drunk?”
I smirk. “Yes, this is all part of an elaborate scheme to get you intoxicated.”
“Well, you certainly picked the right place for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“A casino—where they hand out free drinks when you’re gambling.” I give him a confused look, then he continues. “Well, think about it. The more you drink, the looser you get with your money, and the more mistakes you make. It pays out for the casino in the end to give drinks out for free.”
I nod. “That’s a good point.”
“That’s the whole point.” He reaches over and moves my glass of sake closer to his. “Anyway, you like sweeter drinks, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”
He chuckles. “Good. I know just the right thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Plum wine. It’s a lot sweeter than regular wine. I think you’ll like it.”
“Well, just like the sake, I’m willing to give it a try.”
He smiles. “Good.”
As soon as the server comes back, we place our sushi order, and Eric orders a glass of their plum wine for me. The server turns to me, “What, you didn’t like the sake?”
I tilt my head. “It was OK, just not something I was expecting.”
He laughs, turns around, and walks away. I give Eric a confused look. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know.”
“I feel kind of intimidated, like I should be embarrassed for not liking the sake.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it. There’s nothing wrong with that. Plus, there’s more for me.”
I laugh. He’s right about that.
The server brings our sushi to the table, along with a glass of plum wine. I take a sip of it, and it is definitely much more palatable than the sake. With how hungry Eric and I are, it doesn’t take us long to finish up. We pay our checks, rise to our feet, then make our way to the exit.
We emerge onto the gaming floor, and Eric turns to me. “All right, are you ready?”
I gulp very loudly, though it’s hard to hear it with how loud it is here. “I think so.”
He slaps his hand on my shoulder. “Good, let’s head this way.”
We walk along the many tables, and he points out where the Blackjack tables are. We stand near one and watch play go around it for a while. All of the time that Eric and I spent practicing is coming back to me. I see as each person makes decisions on the cards they have, and how the dealer moves from one player to the next and keeps things going. I notice a sign posted near the table that reads “$20 minimum bet”. Eventually, the dealer starts shuffling cards, and two people get up from the middle of the table.
Eric points at the now-empty chairs. “Want to join this table?”
I gulp nervously again. “Sure, I guess.”
It’s showtime. We walk to the empty seats and sit down. Eric sits in the seat to my right, and a complete stranger is to my left.
While the dealer continues shuffling, Eric takes out his wallet from his pants pocket. “Get your cash ready.”
I do as I am told, and watch him toss a $100 bill onto the table. I reach into my wallet, pull out my own $100 bill, and do the same. Once the dealer finishes shuffling, he takes our money, inspects it, and hands us red and green chips.
Eric points out the chips to me, and tells me the red ones are worth five dollars and the green ones are worth twenty-five dollars. “Let’s start small with the red ones. Put four of them in this spot in front of you to make a twenty-dollar bet, which is the minimum.”
I move four red chips to the spot he pointed out, and he does the same. I look around the table and see players with fifty-, even hundred-dollar bets. Wow.
The dealer takes the freshly-shuffled deck of cards and places it in front of Eric. The dealer then holds out a larger, plastic, yellow card, which Eric takes and inserts into the deck. The dealer takes the half of the deck that Eric separated and puts it on top of the other half, then begins dealing cards to everyone. The cards I’m dealt are a seven and a four, which total eleven, and if I remember correctly from what Eric taught me, is one of the best hands in Blackjack. I look over at his cards, and they’re a six and a three. The dealer has an eight face-up card.
Play goes from my right to my left. After the first player is done, the dealer turns to Eric, and he hits, getting a five. His total is fourteen now. He hits again and gets an eight, and busts. The dealer takes his cards and chips. I am mortified, but he doesn’t seem phased in the slightest. In any case, the dealer now turns his attention to me. I make the indication that I want to double down, and place four more red chips near my original bet. The dealer places a card face-up next to my other ones. It’s a ten. Sweet—I have twenty-one!
Eric turns to me and gives me a high-five. “Now that’s a great start!” The rest of the table cheers me on, too. I realize we’re not playing against each other, but against the dealer. And even the dealer congratulates me on hitting twenty-one. Once the energy dies down, the dealer turns to the next player, and when everyone’s done, the dealer hits on his own cards, busts, and starts paying out the winners. And, just like that, I have forty more dollars to my name than I had but a few minutes ago!
I take my winnings and leave my original bet for the next hand. Play goes around the table again a couple times. Eric wins his first hand, and pushes on the second, but I’m not so lucky, losing both hands.
I turn to him. “Looks like we’re both back to where we started.”
He gives me a half smile. “Get used to it. There’s a lot of up-and-down in this game.”
And he was right. The next five or six hands end up a wash for both of us, but at least I’m getting the hang of playing the game. The dealer starts doling out cards again. Eric is dealt a blackjack and wins right away, and I’m able to double my original bet and win on that, too! I watch as Eric plops a few more chips onto his bet—now he’s betting thirty. The idea of risking more money scares me at first, but after a few more hands, I decide to follow his lead and match his bet.
As we keep playing, some people get up and walk away from the table, and fresh faces fill the empty spots. Eric and I are doing really well—he has doubled his money, and while I’m not doing quite as well as he is, I’m still up a good amount from where I started. He’s been slowly increasing his bet, and it’s exhilarating keeping up with him. I can see how some people get addicted to this.
A cocktail waitress comes by and asks everyone at the table for drink orders. Eric nudges me and whispers in my ear, reminding me that the drinks are free, but that it’s customary to tip the waitresses. He orders a vodka soda, and I a lemon drop, predictably. We play a few more hands, and the waitress comes back with our drinks. She hands me, not a lemon drop martini, but a shot! It’s not what I meant to order, but I take it anyway. It’s free, right?
The waitress hands Eric’s drink to him. He takes a sip, then turns to me. “What do you think of the game so far?”
“It’s a lot of fun! I could do this all night!”
He chuckles. “Don’t forget, we have a drag show to go to.”
Wow! He mentioned it out loud, and around a table full of gamblers, too! None of them really seem to care.
I raise my shot glass up and clink it with his. “To having fun on our new adventures!”
He smiles. “Cheers!”
I knock back my shot, swallow, then cough for a few seconds. I’m not used to downing that amount of alcohol so quickly!
He takes a bigger sip of his drink and sets his glass down. “Want to do a few more hands here, then move to a different table?”
I don’t know any better. “Sure, that sounds all right to me.”
I glance down at his chips; he’s now betting $50 per hand, and has over $200 in all. I’m still betting a measly $35 a hand, but even that amount is at the edge of my comfort zone. Five hands later, I’m finally over $200, and Eric’s pushing $400 after being dealt a Blackjack on the last hand.
He downs the rest of this drink. “Ready to go to another table?”
I nod. “Sure.”
He gets the dealer’s attention and politely asks for some of our chips to be changed out for higher denominations. Once they are, we take our chips and stand up. Our seats are quickly filled by two other eager patrons willing to try their luck and skill.
He points to a different table. There’s a “$40 minimum bet” sign next to this one, and there are considerably fewer people crowded around. “What do you think about this one?”
The $40 minimum is a bit out of my comfort zone, but come on, I’ll be playing next to a great teacher, and how many chances am I going to get to do that? “Let’s do it!” We claim two seats next to each other in the middle of the table and set down our chips. Two other people occupy the seats at each end of the table. Once the hand-in-progress finishes, we make our bets. He’s still betting $50, but I inch up just to the minimum at $40.
The ambiance at this table is a lot more serious than at the last one. No one is speaking to each other, except for Eric and me. There is no bantering going on back and forth between the players and the dealer, and there is no crowd of people cheering us on when one of us wins big. I feel a little intimidated, but Eric looks as confident as ever.
The first few hands do not go well for me at all, but soon I start doing a bit better and hover around the $200 I started with when we sat down at this table. Eric looks like he’s above $500 at this point, and at this rate, things are only going to get better for him.
The same cocktail waitress comes by again and takes everyone’s drink order. Eric orders another vodka soda, and to avoid accidentally getting another shot, I order one too. We both tip her, and she goes on her way.
When the current hand finishes, he turns to me. “Would you mind watching my chips? I need to run to the restroom.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Thanks.” He gets up and quickly makes his way to the restroom.
Now it’s just me, the other two players, and the dealer. I don’t feel terribly confident to play on my own without Eric’s help, but I try to not let that stop me. I put my $40 worth of chips on the betting circle in front of me, and the dealer deals out the cards. I don’t need Eric here to tell me that the cards I have are pretty bad, and that the dealer has a strong card. I know I’m screwed either way, so I choose to hit, then bust. Oh well. There goes another $40. The next two hands are just as bad. I’m dangerously close to losing all my money.
The dealer now has to shuffle the cards, so I at least get a break to try to calm myself down. As soon as the cards are ready, the dealer has one of the other players cut, and then she deals out a new hand.
I’m feeling so tense, it’s hard to concentrate on the cards and what would be the right thing to do. Luckily, as the player to my right is making her decisions, I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s Eric.
He must have looked down and realized how much I’ve lost, because his cheerful tone feels a bit forced. “How’s it going over here?”
“Not very good. I’ve lost every hand since you left.”
“Yikes.”
I point to my cards. “Can you help me out? What should I do here?”
He looks at my cards, then at the dealer’s up-card, then at the other players’ cards. “Stand.”
“Really? On a thirteen?”
“Yeah.” He gets closer and whispers in my ear, “There are lots of low cards on the table. The next card the dealer turns over will likely be a high card, she’ll bust, and you’ll win.”
I take a deep breath, and look into his eyes. “All right, I trust you.” When play gets around to me, I indicate to the dealer that I’d like to stand. The player to my right plays his hand, then it’s the dealer’s turn. Sure enough, the dealer has a sixteen, turns over a ten, and busts. Eric pats me on my back, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief.
He puts another $50 on his betting circle while I stay at my original $40. The cocktail waitress comes by with our drinks. At least those are free—except for the tip. This next hand isn’t as kind to me as the last one—Eric wins his hand while I lose mine.
I groan. “I’ve been having shitty luck ever since sitting down at this table.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “We don’t have to stay at this table if you don’t want to. Want to find another one?”
“That’s a great idea. Let’s do that.”
We gather up our chips and drinks, and begin scouting out another table. We walk toward the first one we played at, but it has such a large crowd around it, it would be forever until we could snag two seats next to each other there. We keep walking around, and he points out another table. “This one has a $10 minimum, and it’s 21+3.”
“What’s 21+3?”
“You can put a side bet down, and you win if your two cards and the dealer’s face-up card make a winning poker hand, like a three-of-a-kind, a straight, or a flush. Those three cards are where the ‘+3’ comes from.”
“That sounds fun. Let’s try that one.”
We sit down and make our bets. Luckily, I’m not forced to bet as much at this table. I stick with the $10 minimum, and just for fun, throw a red chip on the side bet. Eric’s gone down to a more conservative $20, but doesn’t put anything on his side bet. Play goes around once; we both win, but I lose on my side bet. Oh well—at least I still came out a little ahead. We stick with our original bets—I win this hand while he loses, but I still lose on my side bet. Third time’s the charm, right? This time, he wins, and I lose on both my main and side bets.
I turn to him. “This side bet isn’t really working out for me.”
“Yeah, I think it’s just a big waste of money. It pays out a nice amount if you win, but it’s so rare, it’s not worth it.”
I take his advice, and don’t bet anything on the side. And, what do you know, I’m dealt two sevens, and the dealer’s face-up card is a seven. I would have won the side bet.
He leans toward me and chuckles. “And that’s what happens. You can never predict when you’re going to win. In the long run, it’s best to just never do the side bet.”
I have to admit it’s disappointing that I didn’t bet anything on the side this time, but I trust his advice. I also notice he’s increased his bet to $30, so over the next few hands, I inch my way up to betting the same amount. He’s so far ahead, though—he now has around $600 in chips—that I know I’m never going to match him.
The next few hands are terrible for both of us. The dealer wins every time, and, like suckers, we both keep tossing new bets onto our betting circles just to have them disappear seconds later.
He nudges my elbow. “You should probably go back to betting the minimum. Don’t want to risk losing all your money in one hand.”
I do as he says and remove some chips from my bet before the next hand starts. It doesn’t seem to help, though; while we do well on some hands, we lose more often than not, and I’m down to my last two red chips—$10.
He looks over. “Do you want to stop?”
I confidently place both of my last chips on the betting circle. “Nope, not yet. I need to win back my money.”
He sighs. “OK, as long as you’re sure.” He puts his own bet down, then the hands are dealt. We both win this time, which is a huge sigh of relief, knowing that I was almost all out of money. The next two hands, though, do me in. I lose on both, and have no chips left.
I sulk, disappointed that I have now lost everything I came in with. I know Eric said to be prepared to lose it all, but I couldn’t quite predict the feeling of utter failure that is now coursing through my being.
I look up as Eric moves some of his chips closer to me. “Here, keep playing.”
I sigh. “Eric, I can’t play with your money. That wouldn’t be right.”
“Nonsense; I still have all my money. This is the house’s money. And I have more than enough. There’s nothing worse than being out of the game. So here, keep playing.”
I feel guilty taking his money, but I think I’d feel worse being totally out of the game, so I accept his offer and put another $10 in the betting circle. Play goes around several times. We win some, and we lose some, but we lose more than we win, and I’m back down to my last two red chips. I bet one more time, and lose.
I feel like I’m about to break down in tears. I feel like such a failure for not only losing my money, but taking some of Eric’s and losing that, as well.
He turns to me and must have noticed how distraught I look. “Brad, are you OK?”
I try my hardest to keep my emotions in check. “I think I’m done gambling for the day.”
“All right, that’s fine. We can go.”
As soon as the table is cleared after the last hand ends, Eric pushes his chips forward, and the dealer changes them out for larger denominations. Eric picks them all up, and we both stand up and begin our journey to the exit, which seems to take forever as we pass by table after table with everyone celebrating loudly, cheering a win here and congratulating a win there. Everyone seems to be in a great mood, which makes me feel much worse by contrast. As we distance ourselves from the tables, he points toward the cashier, and we go stand in line so he can change his chips out for cash. As we wait, I can’t keep my mind off of how bad I feel about myself.
He puts his hand on my shoulder and rubs it lightly. “You all right?”
I sigh. “Not really. I feel terrible. I feel like I just wasted a lot of money, and worst of all, some of it was yours.” I start getting choked up.
He pulls me into a hug. “Oh, Brad, it’s fine, really.” We pull apart, and he looks me in the eyes, “I just wanted you to be able to keep playing for a little bit longer, but I think we stopped at the right time.”
“I still feel horrible about wasting your money, though.”
He looks more intently at me. “It wasn’t a waste. I was having a lot of fun when we were winning! And the fun is what’s worth it to me, not the winning. And getting to share that with you made it more than worth it. I had a lot of fun seeing some of your reactions when you won.”
I tilt my head and look down.
He continues, “If you really want to make it up to me, how about buying my drinks while we’re at the drag show?”
“Fifty-dollars’ worth?”
He chuckles. “Drinks are expensive in Vegas.”
I crack a smile. “All right, I guess I can do that, as long as you’re not mad at me.”
He lightly shakes me. “I’m not mad at you, Brad. Stop thinking that.”
I sigh. “OK. I’m just wondering how you did so well.”
He tilts his head. “I’d like to say skill, but I think it was mostly luck in this case. Of course, when I would go gambling sometimes, I’d lose everything, so maybe this is just the universe balancing things out.”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe so. Well, speaking of drinks, do you think you’re sober enough to drive?”
“Oh, yeah. The drinks here may be free, but they aren’t very strong.”
One of the cashiers calls Eric up to the counter. He places all his chips on the counter. She takes them, then hands him a bunch of cash. He takes his wallet out of his front pocket and puts the bills inside.
He thanks the cashier, then turns to me. “Ready to get out of here?”
“Absolutely.”
We head back to the parking garage and get in the car. Eric starts the engine, backs out of the parking spot, and starts driving back to the hotel.
Awesome to hear you've been enjoying the story so far, 72-Jay!
Fun fact: I've actually driven through Vegas and near the Hoover Dam on US 93 as it crosses the Nevada-Arizona state line, but never went to go visit. It was on a road trip from Seattle back to the southeastern US where I used to live. You probably know this already, but a new bridge was built several years ago, and US 93 was moved onto it. Previously, the highway was routed across the actual dam. That would've been quite the experience to drive across it!
That's one hell of a music video! That shot of the person falling down the dam is what I imagine every time I'm way high up and look over the edge. I get super jittery!
The next part will be posted by tomorrow at the latest. Enjoy!
We finally get to our hotel’s parking garage. Eric finds a spot and parks, and we walk over to the elevator and step inside.
He pushes the button for our floor. “You know what you need?”
“What?”
“A nice swim. It’ll help you relax and get your mind off the gambling.”
I sigh. “If you say so.”
“Plus, we need to kill some time before the drag show.”
That’s true. And just the thought of the drag show is enough to get the gambling off my mind. Last night, I wasn’t so sure he still wanted to go, but he’s mentioned it multiple times today, so I’m pretty certain he has no intention of backing out.
We get to our floor. He waves his keycard near the door handle, the lock clicks, and he opens the door. We make our way inside, and he heads to the dresser and retrieves a bathing suit. “Ready to go for a swim now?”
“I don’t see why not.” I grab my own swimsuit, but am caught in a daze as he begins to change. He takes off his shoes and socks, then unbuttons and unzips his pants, and slides them off his legs, neatly folds them, and places them on the bed. He pushes his underwear down to the floor, then takes his swimsuit, and puts it on, sticking one leg in at a time.
He looks up. “You gonna swim in your jeans, Brad?”
I chuckle nervously. “Uh, no.”
As he ties his suit’s drawstrings, I take off my own pants and briefs and put on my swimsuit. I try to change as quickly as possible, then we both put on our flip flops and head out to the pool.
It’s very late in the afternoon, but I’d say we have a good hour of sunlight left. Eric strips off his shirt and jumps right in the pool. I take a slower approach, dipping just one toe in and gradually getting up to my neck over the next several minutes. He’s already on his third lap by the time I’m fully immersed.
He’s right: the swimming does help me get my mind off the gambling. God, that was purely awful. Well, except for the parts where I was winning, and when Eric was helping me out. That made it lots of fun. As I swim, I try to focus on just the good parts of that experience, and forget the fact that I lost a hundred dollars, and some of Eric’s money, too.
In reality, this trip so far has been going pretty well; other than a few hiccups, Eric and I are having lots of fun together and getting along great. And we have a whole week left!
I finish my lap, and look behind my shoulder and notice him sitting at the side of the pool with his feet in the water. I swim over to him. “Everything OK?”
“Yeah, just taking a break, and thinking about this drag show.”
I hoist myself out of the water and sit beside him. “You still want to go, right?”
“Of course! I’m just not sure what to expect.”
I put on the most serious expression I can. “Expect all the drag queens to be taller and bigger than you, in every way possible, and in high heels, nonetheless.”
He makes a look of surprise. “Really?”
I nod. “Yeah. Their mantra is exaggeration. Plus, have you heard of artists like Madonna and Cher?”
He narrows his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe I just asked him that question. “Yes.”
“Good, because many of the drag queens will be singing songs by them. It’s all about enjoying their performance, oh, and stuffing dollar bills into their cleavage.”
He laughs. “Well, I have plenty of dollar bills to go around.”
I join him in laughing. “They will definitely appreciate that.” There is silence for a few seconds, then I continue, “Plus, obviously, this is going to be at a gay bar, so other guys may hit on you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. No one wants a thirty-six, almost thirty-seven-year-old man like me.”
“Are you kidding? You are a very attractive man. You clearly take very good care of your body, you’re smart, funny, and have a great personality. If I was single and saw you at a bar, I’d hit on you.”
He looks away and starts to blush. Uh oh. I begin to second-guess whether it was a good idea to say all of that.
After a few tense moments, he finally speaks up. “Do you really mean that?”
There’s no sense in trying to walk it back. I sigh, then answer him, “Yes, I meant it. I hope I didn’t cross a line or anything.”
He shakes his head. “No, no, no, you didn’t cross any lines. I just haven’t heard anyone say something like that to me in a long time.”
I tilt my head. “I find that hard to believe.”
He chuckles. “I didn’t always look like this, you know. After two kids and several years of working sitting at a desk, my body wasn’t quite the best, you see. I was way out of shape, had high blood pressure, high cholesterol, all that jazz. It got to a point where Lorna was really concerned for me, so I started eating better and tried being more active. From what you’ve said, it sounds like it’s paid off.”
I’m still slightly embarrassed by what I said to him, but he seemed to take it as a compliment, so I try not to worry about it.
He raises and stretches his arms. “Anyway, I’m on a good routine now. On weekdays, I’ll usually head down to our building’s gym at the end of the day—or sometimes on my lunch break—and do some light exercise.”
“Wait, did you say, ‘our building’s gym’?” He nods, and I’m caught by surprise. “I had no idea our building even had a gym!”
“It does! It’s got lockers and showers, too. Anyone who works in our building can use it for free. Problem is, I have no idea how those weight machines work, so I usually just lift some of the free weights or do sit-ups or something like that.”
“Well, I will gladly be your personal trainer and show you the ropes.”
He smiles. “Deal!”
“Plus, I can work out there instead of trying to wake up so god-damn early to get a run in before work.”
“True.”
“By the way, why haven’t you checked out the fitness center here?”
“I think it’s nice to take a break from the routine every now and then, so I decided to take it easy these two weeks. We’re getting enough exercise as it is walking around that labyrinth of hallways when we go training, anyway.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“But, if I were to stick to my workout routine,” he looks down at my chest and torso, “I’d probably look a lot more like you.”
Now it was my turn to blush. Did he just hit on me? Nah, it was probably just an innocent comment. I try to ignore it, and change the subject. “So, almost thirty-seven, huh?”
He groans. “Yeah, don’t remind me.”
I chuckle. “When’s your birthday again?”
“The twentieth of April.”
“Wow, that’s coming right up! Do you have anything special planned?”
“Not really. It’s been a while since I’ve gone all out on my birthday, like I used to. Being a father kind of does that to you.”
I sigh. “Well, if you do decide to do something special, I’m sure James and I would love to help you celebrate."
He smiles. “That’s nice to hear. I’ll keep that in mind.” He looks up at the sky, then continues, “I’m getting kind of hungry. You wanna head out soon?”
“Yeah, sure.”
With that, we stand up, towel off, and go back to the room. After he goes into the bathroom to take his shower, I take off my damp swimsuit, drape it over the back of a chair, and wrap my towel around my waist. I turn on my laptop and search for the gay bar we’ll be going to. It turns out there’s a restaurant just next door! I download and check out their menu.
I hear the shower turn off. Eric emerges a few moments later, rubbing his hair dry with a towel.
I get his attention. “I just found out there is a restaurant near the bar. How would you feel about going there for dinner?”
He grabs the same pair of underwear he was wearing earlier today and begins putting them on. “Sure, that sounds fine to me. How’s the food look?”
“It seems like they have a pretty good selection, and the prices aren’t that high.”
He keeps getting dressed. “Cool, yeah, I’m down with that.”
“Awesome. I’ll go rinse off; I’ll try to be quick.”
“No rush.”
I head into the bathroom and take my own shower. I dry off and step out to get dressed. Eric sits at the foot of the bed and watches the news on TV as I put on my clothes from earlier. I sit on a chair next to his side of the bed and tie my shoes.
He turns down the TV and faces me. “So, I was thinking we could take a cab to the bar. That way, we won’t have to worry about being sober enough to drive home.”
I finish tying my shoes and stand up. “That’s a good idea. Are you ready to go now?”
“Yep.”
He calls for a cab, then we both go down to the lobby and step out onto the street. The sun has long since set at this point, and the sky is as dark as a night-time Las Vegas sky normally is, which is still actually pretty bright. Seconds later, he points out a cab pulling up. “Perfect timing.” We step into the cab, and the driver peels off to our destination. It’s not long until we get there. Eric hands the driver some cash, who thanks us as we get out.
There are so many flashing neon lights outside of this place they’re almost blinding me. Luckily, I still have the sight to find the front door. I start walking towards it until Eric taps me on the shoulder. “Uh, Brad, I think the restaurant is this way.”
I look at the building to the left and squint my eyes. “Yeah, you’re right.” We walk to the place next-door to the bar and go inside. The host seats us, and we place our food and drink orders.
I look across the table at Eric. “So, no cold feet about the drag show?”
He shakes his head. “No, I’ve actually been looking forward to going since the moment you mentioned it. I just wasn’t sure what other people would think, so I didn’t bring it up. And I want to apologize for that. I realize it’s not a big deal at all, and that I shouldn’t have been so worried about others’ reactions.”
I tilt my head. “I’m glad you feel that way now, but I don’t want you to think you were wrong in how you felt before. I was the one who overreacted and tried to force you to be OK with it before you were ready.”
“I know, and even though that conversation between us didn’t go over very well, it still got me thinking that maybe I shouldn’t have worried as much as I did. I think I’m starting to feel more confident and less concerned about what other people think. And a lot of that is thanks to you.”
I smile and look into his eyes. “Thank you, Eric. That means a lot to me.”
The server interrupts our heartfelt moment and places our drinks on the table. We thank her as she steps away, then he continues, “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I really enjoy spending time around you and doing things with you. This trip has been incredible. If I had come here on my own and done training, I wouldn’t be having a tenth of the fun I’m having with you. And if the two of us are having fun, what’s the harm in that? What’s wrong with that? Hell, when I was brought up, somewhere down the line I was taught that it was wrong to dress up in girls’ clothes. I never tried to, but I was still taught that. Things were so regimented back then. I thought I had sloughed all that off by now, and I’m trying to raise my own kids to have open minds, but I apparently still had this perception that people would judge me if they knew about me coming here to see men dressed up as women, and I let that show. But you helped me see that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and now I’m really looking forward to this new experience, and experiencing it with you.”
I lift my glass. “Cheers to that!” We clink our glasses together, and each take a sip of our drinks.
Our food arrives. We both worked up such an appetite swimming around earlier that it takes us no time to finish eating. We pay for our bill, then head next door.
We stand in line at the door. It takes us a few minutes to get to the front, but we finally make it. There’s a $10 cover; Eric starts to take out his wallet, but I place my hand on his forearm to stop him. “I’ll pay for you.”
He looks at me. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Gotta make up for the money I lost.”
He chuckles. “Sounds good. Thanks.”
I hand the doorman a twenty-dollar bill, and he lets us in.
It’s already incredibly loud inside. Straight in front of us is the stage. The bar is to the left, and there’s a hallway to the right. A drag queen is in the middle of her performance, and while I’ve never been here before, the place seems more crowded than usual, even for a Saturday night.
We watch the rest of the performance, and then I turn to Eric. “Ready for another drink?”
He nods. “Sure!”
We turn to the left and walk up to the bar. There’s a drink menu posted on the wall, and we examine it for a few seconds.
He nudges me. “That drink with the banana liqueur looks really good.”
I see the drink he mentioned. “It sure does. I might go for the piña colada myself, though.”
The bartender starts walking up to us. I turn my head to ask Eric what drink he wants, and I feel a super sharp pain in my neck. “Ow!” I quickly reach my hand back to try to soothe it.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. My neck just cramped up suddenly.”
The bartender leans closer to us. “What can I get you boys?”
I raise my voice so the bartender can hear me over the noise. “A piña colada for me.” I point to Eric behind me. “And for my friend—”
Eric shouts out his order. “A Bodacious Banana, please.”
The bartender grabs two chilled glasses. “Comin’ right up.”
I turn to Eric, trying to keep my head straight. He has a look of concern on his face and places his hand back on my shoulder. “Brad, what do you think happened?”
“I have no idea, but my neck really hurt just then.”
He hums. “Turn around.” I do as I’m told. He puts both hands on my shoulders and starts massaging where my neck and shoulders meet. “Damn, you are really knotted up.”
“I am?”
“Yeah. Majorly. Leaning over those tables gambling and during training probably didn’t help, either.”
I turn back around. “Probably not.”
“Have you ever had a real massage?”
“No, never. Do you think that would help?”
“It will.” The bartender delivers our drinks, and I thank him and hand him my credit card to open a tab. As we make our way to the stage where the drag queens are performing, he continues, “A massage will definitely do you some good. Sitting for so long like we do for our jobs wreaks havoc on our neck and backs. I get a massage every couple of months or so, and it really makes a big difference.”
“You know, I did see a sign for a spa next to the fitness center at our hotel. Do you think they give massages there?”
“If it’s a spa at a hotel in Vegas, they give massages. We should go there tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. What else do we have planned? Plus, I’m actually overdue for my next one, so it’s perfect.”
“All right, if you say so.”
“Cool. Let’s go tomorrow after breakfast.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
We stand behind the crowd and watch the drag queen now on stage perform to her song. Eric takes a sip of his drink. “Damn, this is delicious!” He turns to me. “Do you want to try it?”
“Sure.” I suck a small amount of his drink through the straw, and my eyes widen in response. “Wow, I approve! ‘Bodacious Banana’, though—that’s one hell of a name for a drink!” I hand him back his concoction, then take a sip of my own, which is equally as delicious. “Want to try some of mine?”
He reaches out his hand. “OK.” He samples my drink, too. “You made a good choice, there. I might get that one next.”
I give him a confused look. “I didn’t think you liked the sweeter drinks.”
He shrugs. “Eh, it’s fun to try something different every now and then.”
The drag queen wraps up her performance and begins walking off to the side of the stage. I point to an empty table with two seats near the front of the stage. “Look, there’s a free table. Let’s grab it.” We both sit at the table with our drinks and await the next drag queen to step onto the stage.
The cheering from the crowd dies down, and a relatively older-looking drag queen steps out, wearing a head-to-toe dark sequined dress with hints of emerald green, turquoise, and purple hues. She’s wearing heels that have to be at least six inches tall, and her hair is wrapped up in a very tall beehive, colored somewhere between blonde and white.
She takes a microphone from a nearby stand. “How y’all doing tonight?” The crowd hoots and claps, then she continues, “That’s so good to hear. Thank y’all for comin’ out. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Miss Mama Mary Jane, and I can give you as many hits as you can handle, honey!” The crowd chuckles, and she goes on. “I hope you’ve been enjoying all of our lovely ladies here tonight.
“I got a story for y’all. I used to be a marriage therapist in my past life. I know, hard to believe. Anyway, I was sitting with an old, married couple in my office one day, and they were arguing with one another. The wife says to the husband, ‘When will you finally give two fucks about our marriage?’ The husband replies, ‘I don’t know, honey, I’ll let you know once my Viagra comes in the mail.’” She pauses for laughter, and then continues, “The husband goes on and says, ‘But I can give two shits, though, because I took my fiber pills earlier this morning.’”
The audience bursts into laughter and cheers, then she continues. “All right, let me get a good look at all the lovely people here.” She then steps off the stage and turns to a big group of people at the table next to us, focusing on one woman in particular, who is wearing a bridal veil. “Let me guess, you’re the bride-to-be?”
Miss Mama sticks her microphone in the woman’s face, who, in the most apprehensive voice, replies, “Yes.”
Miss Mama nods and turns to the crowd. “I knew it. Comedy isn’t my only talent, you know. I also happen to be a very blessed psychic. Miss Cleo ain’t got nothin’ on me.” She reaches her hand out to the woman. “Come on up here, sugar.”
The bride-to-be reluctantly steps up and joins Miss Mama on stage.
Miss Mama pats her beehive of a hairdo. “Tell me your name, baby.”
“Ariel.”
“Ariel, like the mermaid?”
She nods.
“I’m glad you still got your voice, sugar. Now tell me, what is the name of your lovely prince charming?”
She pauses for a second. “Eric.”
Miss Mama gives her an expression of sheer disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me, girl. Just like the movie?”
Ariel nods and smiles. There are laughs from a few people in the crowd.
Miss Mama pats her hairdo again. “Well, Ariel, let me give you a little piece of advice. If you ever come across a big, ugly bitch named Ursula, run away as fast as you can from that bitch!” The crowd chuckles lightly, and Miss Mama goes on, “But don’t you worry, honey; you’re safe tonight. I checked the work schedule in the back earlier, and it’s Ursula’s day off.”
Ariel and the crowd burst into laughter.
Miss Mama continues. “So, where are you and Eric from?”
“The East Coast—New Jersey.”
Miss Mama almost screeches. “Girl! New Jersey? What in the hell are y’all doing way out here? Ain’t y’all heard of Atlantic City?”
Ariel chuckles. “Vegas is just so much nicer, though.”
Miss Mama nods. “I have to give her that, I have to give her that.” Miss Mama flashes Ariel a quick smile. “So, how long have you and ‘Prince’ Eric known each other?”
“Like, three months.”
There are gasps from the crowd, and Miss Mama looks even more in disbelief. “Three months?” She turns to the crowd. “Well, you all know why she’s gettin’ married.” She turns back to Ariel. “How big is it?”
Ariel starts laughing and blushing, covering her mouth.
Miss Mama speaks up again. “At least tell me it’s somewhere in size between my pinky and my forearm.”
Ariel is blushing so much that her face turns a bright beet red, but she still finds it within herself to nod.
Miss Mama taps Ariel on the shoulder. “Atta girl. I think we’ve embarrassed you enough as is. Go join your friends.”
Ariel gratefully steps off the stage and sits back down.
Miss Mama then turns her attention to Eric and me. I feel extremely nervous with the spotlight on us, and instantly regret grabbing the one free table that was literally at the very front of the stage, but I try to stay calm. She bats her extremely long eyelashes at us. “Now what are you two cute motherfuckers doing here on a Saturday night?”
Without missing a beat, Eric responds, “We came because we wanted to see you.”
Miss Mama sighs. “Oh lord, that reminds me of my ex-husband, except I only wish he was able to come. Whenever he saw me, his dick got limper than a noodle that’s been boiling for an hour.” The crowd laughs, and Miss Mama tries hard to keep talking as she fights back her own laughter. “He’s like the guy in my story, except he couldn’t even give me one fuck.”
The crowd giggles at Miss Mama’s highly irreverent, somewhat comical, but very entertaining humor. The alcohol’s probably helping to make it funnier than it would be otherwise, but I’m still enjoying every second of it. Eric just sits there smiling and chuckling, taking it all in stride like a champ.
She then winks at him. “But I’m sure you don’t have that problem, now, do you?”
A huge grin forms on his face, and he can hardly keep his eyes open as he fights back the urge to laugh. He just shakes his head from side-to-side.
Miss Mama continues, “So, what do I have the pleasure of calling two young strapping lads such as yourselves?” She sticks the microphone near his mouth.
He tries calming down enough to speak, and points back at me. “That’s my friend, Brad, and I’m Eric.”
Miss Mama and the rest of the crowd gasp in unison. Miss Mama yanks the microphone back to her mouth, looking and pointing alternately between him and Ariel. “Eric, like the ‘Prince’?”
He just shakes his head. Miss Mama turns to Ariel, who is sitting right next to us. “Honey, I was about to save you a hell of a lot of trouble, unless you don’t mind your future husband running around with other guys behind your back.” She turns back to Eric, chuckles for a few seconds, then continues. “Where you guys from?”
Eric answers, “Seattle.”
Her eyes light up. “Ooh, Seattle, the Emerald City. What brings you two to this part of the country?”
“My friend and I are here on business.”
Miss Mama cocks an eyebrow. “Really, that’s it?”
He nods. “Yeah, we’re just work friends.”
Miss Mama’s voice lowers a couple of octaves, if that’s even possible. “Oh, sure you are.”
He just smiles. Miss Mama seems to assume Eric is gay, or at least bi, and that we are together, and I’m wondering why he’s not correcting Miss Mama, but just letting her roll with it. Maybe it’s easier and less awkward that way.
She then looks up at the crowd. “I don’t know about you, but work friends don’t rub each other’s shoulders while they’re waiting for a drink at the bar.”
The crowd gasps and jeers. Though I really enjoyed getting that massage from Eric, we both know it didn’t mean anything romantic. Or, at least, it wasn’t supposed to. Then again, there’s been noticeably more physical contact between us over the past few weeks, especially this past week in particular. Could it mean he’s actually feeling attracted to me? Oh, come on, Brad, it’s likely completely innocent. Touch might just be a way he shows affection, even friendly affection, and it doesn’t have to mean he’s attracted to me. He’s just grown to feel very comfortable around me, and that’s probably translating into him being more physical and even feeling more comfortable being naked around me, unafraid to show his true self and not needing to hide in order to change clothes or sleep. Then again, there was that comment and look he gave to me at the pool before we came here. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything flirtatious by it, but it does give me a tinge of doubt, and I wonder if he’s aware of how his words and actions are coming across.
I’m snapped back into reality as he stands up and gently pulls Miss Mama’s microphone closer to his mouth. “They do if they’re both massage therapists.” Then he sits back down.
The audience erupts into cheers and claps as he sits back down. Miss Mama regains her composure. “Ooh, girl, touché. I don’t have a comeback for that one. Tell you what, if massage therapy doesn’t work out for you and your ‘friend’, you can have my job, deal?”
He nods and gives Miss Mama a thumbs up.
Miss Mama continues. “All right, my babies, let me bring our next queen out onto the stage before she yanks this microphone out of my hand. Everyone, put your hands together for the one, the only, Miss Jenny Talia!”
The crowd bursts into cheers as Jenny Talia steps out and starts lip-syncing to Madonna’s “Express Yourself”. Eric digs a dollar bill out of his wallet in preparation for tipping her. As she breaks into the second verse of the song, she steps off the stage and makes her way through the crowd, accepting tips from everyone. Some hand her their money, others stick it in her cleavage or at the top of her skirt near her hips.
I lean over to Eric, and almost need to shout so he can hear me over the music and the crowd. “Where are you gonna put your dollar?”
“I don’t know!”
Eventually, Jenny makes her way back to the front of the stage, but doesn’t step up. Instead, she spins around and stands right in front of Eric. She leans over, bending at the waist, so that her fake breasts are directly in front of his eyes. She looks straight at him and sings the chorus for the final time. He has a huge grin on his face and looks like he is having the time of his life. I watch as he raises his arm slowly until his hand is close enough to insert his dollar bill right in-between those fake breasts. Jenny stands up straight, steps back onto the stage, and does her big finish. The crowd erupts into applause. She waves, and I hear Miss Mama begin to announce the next performer.
Eric leans close to me. “Ready for another drink yet?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’ll go up with you.” I begin to rise to my feet.
He gently places a hand on my shoulder and guides me back into my seat. “Don’t worry, I’ll get them. You want the same thing?”
“Sure. Just tell the bartender to put them on my tab.”
He nods, then disappears into the crowd, and I’m left all alone to watch the next drag queen. She starts performing to a much more recent song, but it’s just as entertaining. She goes through the routine of making her way through the audience and collecting everyone’s ones and fives, then steps back onto the stage to finish her performance.
Eric returns with the drinks and sets them on the table. I thank him as I take my drink in hand and take a long sip.
After he sits, he leans over again. “So, it looks like there’s a dancefloor in another part of this bar. It was through that hallway by the entrance.”
“Oh, really? Do you want to go check it out?”
“Sure, but maybe after we finish these drinks. The music they were playing over there sounds really catchy.”
I nod to indicate I agree with his suggestion. We watch another five or six drag queens, and he gets my attention after the last one wraps up her song. “OK, I’m all out of ones.”
I laugh. “I guess that means you’re ready to go?”
He nods. We both then rise to our feet and head back to the bar for drink number three. After the bartender hands us our fresh libations, we walk through the hallway and over to the dancefloor.
Sure enough, the music’s pretty bouncy and upbeat. It’s even more crowded on the dancefloor than it is for the people watching the drag show. Colorful, flashing lights brighten up the place, and there’s a hissing sound from the fog machines as they both cloud and cool the air with the dense haze they generate. There are also several go-go boys dancing on platforms and in cages, wearing absolutely nothing except for their skimpy underwear. The atmosphere of the place doesn’t seem to be fazing him in the slightest.
We brace ourselves and make our way into the crowd, sometimes having to squeeze through groups of people since everyone’s dancing elbow-to-elbow and there’s barely any space between anyone. When we get to the middle of the dancefloor, we notice two women about six or seven feet away, pushing through the crowd toward us. They get closer, and I realize it’s Tammy and Rianne. Their faces brighten up when they notice it’s us.
Tammy shrieks excitedly. “Hey! We didn’t think we’d see you guys here!”
Eric nods. “Yeah, we came to see the drag show.”
Rianne smiles. “Us, too! How’d you like it?”
Eric finishes taking a sip of his drink. “It was fun! Right, Brad?”
I nod. “Yep. All of them were really pretty.”
Tammy rolls her eyes. “Tell me about it. Every one of them looks more like a woman than Rianne and me!” We all laugh, then Tammy continues, “We were just heading back to the bar to get some more drinks.”
They start walking past us, and Rianne smiles. “It was awesome seeing you guys!”
Eric nods and smiles. “Likewise!”
They disappear into the crowd, on their mission to get refills.
The next song starts playing, and Eric throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, my god, this song is from my childhood!”
The song is obviously a remix of the original, and it’s not until the vocals start when I realize what song it is. I’m surprised when he starts singing along to the words. I don’t know the song well enough to sing along with him, but he doesn’t seem to care.
The song blends into the next one, and he leans close to me, almost stumbling forward. “Wow, that one sure brought me back.”
I reach up and hold his upper arms to stabilize him. “You having a good time?”
He shouts, “What?”, then turns his ear toward me. I lean in and repeat myself a little louder, then he nods his head. I giggle, and we take sips of our drinks.
We stay on the crowded dancefloor for the next few songs, then he shakes the ice in his otherwise empty cup. “Wanna head back for one last drink?”
“Yeah, let’s go.” I down the rest of my drink, then we work our way through the crowd back to the bar. As soon as we walk through the hallway to the much quieter part of the place, I can hear my ears ringing.
He points to the restroom. “Gotta take care of number one. Can you get me a new drink?”
I nod. “Yeah, you want the same thing?”
“Sure, thanks.” He turns around and disappears around the corner into the restroom.
I walk to the bar and wait in line for a few minutes until I get to the front. I order two more drinks, then close my tab. I take the new drinks in hand, find an empty barstool, and wait for Eric to return. Eventually, I see him emerge from the hallway. I wave at him to get his attention, and he sees me, walks over, and sits in the barstool next to mine.
He takes the drink I hand him. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He lifts the straw to his mouth and takes a long sip. “Want to take a break from dancing?”
“Yeah, otherwise I might go deaf.”
He chuckles. “Me too.” He takes a deep breath, and the expression on his face turns serious. He leans close to me, as if to tell me a secret. “So, I think someone just hit on me in the restroom.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’m standing at the urinal, and the guy next to me asks me if I wanted to give him a massage.”
It takes me a few seconds, but I realize what he’s talking about, and shake my head. “Oh no. He must have been here earlier and heard when that old drag queen was talking to us.”
“Yep. So I try my best to ignore him and finish up, then walk over to the sink to wash up, and he follows me, saying he’ll return the favor, and also give me a happy ending.”
I laugh out loud. “You’ve got to be joking.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. He was a persistent fella. I got out of there as fast as I could. I’ve never dried my hands so quickly.”
I put my hand on his knee. “Well, don’t worry. Now that you’re here, I’ll protect you.” He smiles, then I continue. “If I were in your shoes, I’d take his advances as a compliment. He was trying to let you know he was into you, if only in a slightly creepy and awkward way.”
He gulps down some of his drink and sighs. “I know. It was kind of nice getting the attention, though I would have rather he waited until I was finished taking a leak, you know?”
“Yeah, that’s the least he could have done.”
We spend the next few minutes sipping our drinks and people watching. After some time, he leans in again. “I’m kind of surprised how many women are here. This is a gay bar; I thought there would be only guys here.”
I tilt my head. “Well, they’re probably here for the same reason you are—to just have a good time. Or here to support the friends they came with. Or they might be here just for the hell of it.”
“That makes sense, when you put it that way.”
“Plus, we’ve been discriminated against in the past—we still are in some places—and it wouldn’t be right for a place like this—any place, really—to close its doors to certain groups of people. At least in the gay bars I’ve gone to, they don’t really care whether you’re a guy or a girl, gay, bi, straight, or anywhere in-between; your money’s as good as anyone else’s. Talk to anyone here, and they’ll more than likely think it’s awesome for a guy like you to come here and have a good time.”
“Yeah, especially the guy in the restroom.” We laugh together, then he takes another sip of his drink and continues, “Wanna head back to the dancefloor while we finish these drinks, then call it a night?”
I notice his speech is beginning to sound a bit slurred, so I agree with his suggestion. We get up and walk back through the hallway toward the dancefloor. The crowd has thinned out a bit as people have started going other places, and it’s not as difficult finding a spot with some room. Surprisingly, Tammy and Rianne are still here, and they join us as we all dance together to a few more songs.
Eventually, I hear the sound of Eric slurping the last of his drink through his straw, and I finish my own. We bid farewell to Tammy and Rianne and leave the dancefloor.
We walk into the hallway, and I get his attention. “Can you wait here while I run to the restroom?” He nods, and I go inside to do my thing. There’s no sign of anyone else inside, which is a huge relief; I did not want to run into the guy who wanted the massage. I wash my hands, step out, and see Eric leaning against the wall, waiting for me. I walk up to him. “Ready to go?”
He wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s do it!” As we start to walk toward the exit, I notice he’s leaning on me for a little extra support. When we get outside, the ringing inside my ears is intense; still, though, it’s nice being out of that loud place.
He pulls out his phone and calls for a cab. After he hangs up, I turn and look at him. “You’re pretty lit, aren’t you?”
He chuckles giddily. “Yeah, just a bit. Those drinks were pretty strong—much stronger than any of the drinks back at the casino.”
“And you did have, like, four of them.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I know.”
“Are you going to be all right?”
“I’ll be fine; just get me to a bed, and fast, because I’m about to crash. It’s been a long day.”
I yawn. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired myself.”
A cab rounds a corner and pulls up to the curb. We get inside and tell the driver which hotel we’re staying at, and with that, the driver speeds off.
---
Donna Summer - Stamp Your Feet (SD Vs Moto Blanco Remix)
You probably know this already, but a new bridge was built several years ago, and US 93 was moved onto it. Previously, the highway was routed across the actual dam.
I do remember reading an article back when they did the new bridge. If I remember right, a big part of it was for security - so noone could try & drive a bomb across the dam.
AstareGod said:
That's one hell of a music video! That shot of the person falling down the dam is what I imagine every time I'm way high up and look over the edge. I get super jittery!
I have a fear of heights too - especially if its way high. ... even if there is a rail/fence I still feel nervous near the edge.
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part 66: Great chapter
Glad they both had fun!
Eric if deff becoming more comfortable/open about things
Never been to a drag show or gay bar/club myself. Didn't think about the fact they might come 'bother' people in the audience if on the rare chance I was ever to go I'd have to remember to sit back out of the way
I have seen parts of the little drag shows they do at pride though...but outside and way back from the stage(& its blaring speakers) is a bit different
No problem, Chaz! I hope your memories of your times in Vegas are all good ones!
I have to admit, I'm really enjoying this side arc of Brad and Eric. I'm really glad I decided to send them both to Vegas together, and allow them to get to know one another better. I obviously have a general idea about how the relationship between these two characters will unfold, but the magic is in the details: Throughout writing a lot of the action and dialogue between these two, a lot of it comes from spur of the moment ideas, so it's very much a journey for me watching how these two characters are evolving right in front of my eyes as much as it is for you.
I do remember reading an article back when they did the new bridge. If I remember right, a big part of it was for security - so noone could try & drive a bomb across the dam.
I have a fear of heights too - especially if its way high. ... even if there is a rail/fence I still feel nervous near the edge.
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part 66: Great chapter
Glad they both had fun!
Eric if deff becoming more comfortable/open about things
Never been to a drag show or gay bar/club myself. Didn't think about the fact they might come 'bother' people in the audience if on the rare chance I was ever to go I'd have to remember to sit back out of the way
I have seen parts of the little drag shows they do at pride though...but outside and way back from the stage(& its blaring speakers) is a bit different
Haha! It can feel intimidating when you as an audience member are in the spotlight during a drag show. Sometimes the performer will stare straight at you and try to get you to interact with them, and it can be a little weird if you're not sure what to do in that situation.
I remember going to my first drag show, and this one performer was singing along to Rihanna's Umbrella, and she held her hand out and took my hand in hers. I remained sitting because I wasn't sure at all what I should do: stand up and dance with her? Hahaha. It was super awkward because everyone in the audience was watching me, but I just sat there for what seemed like forever until she lost interest and moved on.
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Thanks both of you guys for reading and commenting! Writing this story is a joy in and of itself, and it's fascinating to me seeing where the characters will go and how they will evolve, but your comments really help me keep my motivation going, because I know others are enjoying the story and wanting to read more. So thank you once again!
Thanks both of you guys for reading and commenting! Writing this story is a joy in and of itself, and it's fascinating to me seeing where the characters will go and how they will evolve, but your comments really help me keep my motivation going, because I know others are enjoying the story and wanting to read more. So thank you once again!
Hey Vincent! Thanks for commenting! I'm happy to hear you're enjoying the story.
I know it's been a few months since my last post. I'm just getting back into the swing of writing, and I should hopefully have a new part in the next few hours, or tomorrow at the latest. A word of warning -- the next part is going to be very long. Happy reading!
It's been a long time coming, friends, but here it is!
Part 67
The cab driver makes a few more turns, and before we know it, pulls up to the curb right outside of our hotel. Eric takes some cash out of his wallet and hands it to the driver. We then step out and walk inside the lobby.
Suddenly, Eric’s balance becomes very unstable, and he stumbles a bit as we walk together toward the elevator. I put my arm around him and use my other hand to help hold him up. “Are you OK?”
He hiccups, then answers my question, slurring his speech in the process. “I’m good; we got back to the hotel just fine, right?”
I roll my eyes. He’s right—we did get back to the hotel, but with him barely in one piece. I push the button for the elevator, hear a ding, and we walk on.
He hangs on to me as the elevator begins its ascent to the top floor, which makes us both feel woozy. He grabs on extra tight. “Holy fuck, those drinks were strong!”
I laugh. “Yeah, especially the ones you were having. I’m glad we got our money’s worth.”
He hiccups again. “We sure did, didn’t we?”
The elevator finally reaches our floor. He throws his arm around my neck, and I gently place my hand on his back and help him as we step off and walk slowly in the direction of our room. I wrestle my wallet out of my pocket, but it’s impossible to get my keycard out with just one hand, so I end up having to pull him close and reach my other arm around his waist and use my other hand to fish it out. I wave it near the lock on the door, hear it click, and we enter. He starts moving swiftly toward the bed, and I run up to him. “Whoa, Eric, we should probably get ready for bed before faceplanting onto it.”
He turns around and jabs his finger into my chest. “Great idea!” He struts to the sink, readies his toothbrush, and starts brushing. I follow his lead. After a couple minutes, he starts up the water, leans over, and spits out his toothpaste. He walks over to the fridge and gets a bottle of water, opens it, and takes a few swigs. I spit out my own toothpaste and rinse out my mouth, then join him by the fridge.
He holds the bottle out toward me. “Want any?”
I nod. “Yeah, I could use some water.” I take the bottle and gulp some down, then hand it back to him, and he downs the rest. He tosses the now-empty bottle in the recycle bin, while I fetch a new one from the fridge. “I’ll put this next to the bed in case you get thirsty during the night.”
He follows me to his side of the bed. “That’s a good idea.”
I set the bottle down, and turn around as he takes off his shoes and begins slipping out of his pants. He starts to lose his balance as he lifts a foot off the floor to take off a pant leg, and I help hold him steady. He manages to get both pant legs off, but does a hasty job folding them and setting them on the chair beside the bed. Now it’s time for the shirt. He grabs the lower part of it and lifts it up to his neck, but it gets stuck, and he starts laughing. “Some help here, Brad?”
I chuckle, and help him lift it off of his head. “I’ve never seen a grown man struggle to get out of his own shirt before.”
He tosses it onto the chair, and glares at me. “Hey, mister, don’t make fun of me.” He then smiles, signaling that he’s just joshing with me.
I give him a smirk. “I trust you can handle the rest on your own?”
He scoffs. “Of course, watch me!” He hooks both thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and pushes them down. He steps out of them, then bends over to pick them up from the floor. He really loses his balance this time, and sticks a hand out to catch himself on the chair. I react just as quickly, and reach my arms out to prevent him from falling to the floor.
We both take a quick moment to regain our footing, then I help him stand straight up. To my surprise, he turns to face me and pulls me into a tight hug. With his face pressed against my cheek, I feel him breathing into my ear. His soft voice follows, “I had such a great night tonight, Brad. Thank you for taking me out and showing me a fun time.”
I’m in a bit of shock from how he is behaving, but I try to act casual. “All right, I think it’s time for you to get under the covers.” It’s also good that I’m still wearing pants, because feeling his body pressed against mine has started giving me a growing erection underneath them, and that’s not quite something I want him to see.
We pull away from each other, and he slowly sits down on the bed. He lifts each foot one at a time to take off his socks, then slides himself under the covers up to his chest. I bend down, pick up his socks and still-warm underwear from the floor, and put them on top of his other clothes on the chair. I reach and turn off the lamp beside the bed, as well as the rest of the lights in the room.
A little later, once I feel confident Eric is sound asleep, I walk over to my side of the bed and start taking my clothes off, neatly folding my jeans and placing them on the chair beside the bed, and throwing the rest of my clothes in a pile on the floor. I look down, and although it’s too dark to see what’s there, there’s no denying it; I’m rock-solid hard. There’s no way I’m going to sleep like this. I walk to the bathroom, close the door, and try to make myself as comfortable as possible in the darkness while I rub one out. I close my eyes, and all I can fantasize about is Eric, completely naked, and doing all kinds of sexual things I’ve only thought about fleetingly and tried pushing out of my mind every time he’s gotten dressed or undressed in front of me. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about him this way, sexualizing a coworker of mine—it’s not fair to him, and it’s not fair to James, but Eric is all I can think about. It’s not long before I feel myself getting closer and closer to climax. I try as hard as I can to keep quiet, and push myself over the edge and explode all over my chest and torso. I relax my breathing, and feel around for a towel to wipe off.
I walk back out into the room, my erection subsiding with every step. I open the fridge and get another bottle of water for myself, and down about half of it. I turn to look at Eric, and notice he’s lying on his right side—facing away from me. I walk around to my side of the bed, put my water down on the nightstand, and look him in the face—he seems like he’s asleep. Still semi-hard, I get under the sheets, lie flat on my back, and try to get comfortable.
A few seconds later, I gasp loudly and nearly jump out of my skin when I feel his hand on my shoulder. I turn my head to look at him. “Eric?”
His speech is still a bit slurred. “Brad, can I please ask you a huge favor?”
I take a huge gulp. “Yeah, what is it?”
He lets out a huge sigh, then chuckles a little bit. “I’m not lying when I said those drinks were strong.” His tone then gets more serious, and his voice even croaks a bit. “The room’s been spinning for the past ten minutes, and it hasn’t stopped. Can you hold me?”
I hesitate for a second. “What do you mean?”
He sighs again. “It’s been forever since I drank this much and felt like this, but the last time I did, Lorna held me in her arms and helped me feel like I wasn’t moving. I know it sounds weird, but it really helped me relax and fall asleep.”
I’m in absolute disbelief, but I try not to make it apparent. “So, you want me to… wrap my arms around you and hold you?”
After a few seconds, he responds. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
He scoffs. “Brad, I made a mistake by drinking too much tonight, and I have to live with that, but I’m asking you as a friend, as a good friend… I don’t want to start feeling sick with the room spinning around like it is now. Please.”
I take a deep breath. “All right…” He turns his back to me and lies on his left side, and I scoot myself over to his half of the bed. It’s not long before I can feel the heat emanating from his naked body as I get closer to him. Just like that, my own cock starts getting hard again. Dammit. Oh well; I’ll reserve myself to the fact that I’m a guy, and just like any other guy out there, I get excited and aroused by what I’m attracted to. This is no time for me to feel bad about that. Still, though, I’m really hoping that part of me doesn’t touch him; something makes me feel like it would be extremely wrong if that were to happen.
I gently guide my left arm under his neck, and wrap my other arm around his side. He gently grasps my hand, and whispers quietly, “Thank you.”
Not even one minute later, I hear the telltale signs of him sleeping soundly. I’m glad he was able to fall asleep so easily—with me in this newfound situation, it’s doubly hard for me to catch my own Zs. I’m just glad I chose to rub one out beforehand; if I hadn’t, I don’t know what I’d be doing with myself right about now. I’d probably orgasm without even touching myself!
Since I’m practically wide awake, and stuck here, I do the only thing I can in this situation: think. About everything. Well, specifically about the weekend at hand. And it’s only just halfway-over. But I’ve been through so much already during my time here. Sure, the bad part is that I lost a hundred dollars, but everything else, up to and including this point in time right now, has made it all worth it. Fuck, just a few months ago, I felt like a measly cog in the system with the job I had, but Eric believed in me so much, I’m now doing the same thing he’s doing, and I finally feel like I’m making some progress in my profession. Sure, the work is hectic, and grueling, and seems non-rewarding at times, but look at where all this hard work has put me—with my arms wrapped around my former boss, current colleague, and now very close friend—literally—after a day sight-seeing and a night gambling and going to a gay bar. The fact that he trusts me so much that he’s comfortable with me lying in the same bed, naked, and holding him in my arms—it’s so mind-blowing, I can’t even fathom it’s real. If I had the use of either of my hands, I’d pinch myself hard to make absolutely sure I hadn’t been dreaming for the last few months, but I’m certain I’d just end up with a nasty bruise the next morning.
With him now sound asleep, and me not going anywhere anytime soon, I decide to get comfortable and make the most of it. I nestle close to his body. His grip on my hand has loosened enough for me to wiggle it free and rest it against his hairy chest. I feel his pulse slow to a more relaxed pace as the first few minutes of his slumber pass.
I try with all my might to resist, because I feel like it would be breaking some sort of unspoken rule, but at the same time, it just feels like the right thing to do, so I say to myself, ‘the hell with it’, lean forward, and kiss the nape of his neck.
Thankfully, it seems like nothing can stir him, so I allow him to sleep peacefully, and make myself at home on the other half of his pillow. I recount all the adventures we went on today, over and over, until I feel my eyelids getting heavier and heavier, and finally fall asleep.
* * * * *
I’m woken up in the middle of the night. Eric slowly breaks free of my grasp, and sits up on the edge of the bed, facing away from me. I look up and see him rubbing his head. After a moment or two, he stands and walks to the bathroom, then closes the door.
I decide to give him some space to sleep, and retreat to my half of the bed. The cooler sheets feel great against my skin, as I was getting overheated being right next to him. A couple minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom. I watch as he walks back to the bed—partly to make sure he gets back safely, and partly because his body is so nice to look at.
He picks up the bottle of water on his nightstand, takes a few swigs, and sets it back down. He then turns to face me, and pauses. He must realize I’m awake and looking at him. We lock eyes for a few seconds, but neither one of us says anything, and the expression on his face remains frozen. It’s one of slight discomfort, haziness, and fatigue. He then looks down, lifts the sheets, and gets under them once again. He turns his back to me, tosses around a bit, and then remains both motionless and silent.
I just close my eyes, and try my best to fall back asleep.
* * * * *
What I imagine to be a few hours pass, and I’m the first to wake up this time. A glimmer of sunlight forces its way through the thick curtains we closed the night before. I check the time on my phone—it’s 9. I sit up and realize I’ve got a slight headache and feel thirsty. It’s a good thing I put that water bottle on my nightstand; I grab it and finish off the rest of it.
I decide to get out of bed and change into my workout gear. Thankfully, I have just a mild hangover—nothing that a little exercise can’t cure. I can only imagine how Eric must be feeling after all the drinks he had. I look over at him as I pull on my running shorts. He’s still sound asleep, so I try to make as little noise as possible as I’m getting ready.
On my way down to the fitness center, I walk into the spa, which looks like it just opened up, and ask the receptionist at the front desk about their massages. I had no idea how many different kinds there were—some that are as quick as fifteen minutes, and others that last three hours. I ask if they have any available appointments, and she tells me they have just two free openings for an hour starting at 12:30, and that they usually get booked up quickly. I ask her which massage would be good for a first-timer, and she recommends the hour-long one, and tells me what it all includes. I ask her to book Eric and me for the hour-long massages. She takes my information and advises me to drink plenty of water beforehand.
I leave and go next door to the fitness center. There are more people here than when I came earlier in the week, but everyone seems so engrossed in their workouts, with headphones in their ears, that I still feel like I have the place to myself. I quickly scarf down a banana and hop on an elliptical machine for about half an hour—just enough to get my blood flowing and counter my hangover. I towel off the machine and head back upstairs.
Eric’s sitting up in bed checking his phone when I step inside the room. He doesn’t look like he’s gotten out of bed yet. He looks up at me and puts his phone down. “I was wondering where you ran off to.”
“I figured some exercise would do me good.” He forces a half-smile, then I continue, “How are you feeling?”
His voice croaks as he speaks. “Not terrible…”
A look of concern washes over my face. “Gosh, your voice sure sounds terrible.”
He rolls his eyes. “Probably all that screaming and yelling I was doing at the bar last night.” He picks up the water bottle from his nightstand, which is half empty at this point, tries clearing his throat, and slowly drinks a few sips.
I speak up again, “So, I stopped by the spa and booked both of us one-hour massages.”
He lowers the bottle from his lips and swallows. “For what time?”
“The only time they had available was for 12:30.”
“We better get moving, then, if we want to get breakfast first.”
I put my phone and other stuff on the dresser. “Do you want to shower first?”
He shakes his head. “No, I need a few minutes here before I get up. You go first.”
“All right.” I walk to the fridge to get a fresh water bottle and put it on his nightstand.
He gives me another half-smile, but it doesn’t seem forced this time. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” I walk to the bathroom and close the door. I take a quick shower, dry off, and wrap the towel around my waist. I step out, and notice Eric’s finished off the bottle from last night and half of the new one I just gave him. “Thirsty, eh?”
He groans. “I didn’t drink nearly as much water as I should have last night.”
I walk over to the dresser and take out some clothes, putting them on the bed. “Well, the people at the spa said to drink plenty of it.”
He nods. “They’re right. A massage can make you feel pretty beat afterwards if you’re not hydrated enough.”
I unwrap my towel and put it on the bed, then begin getting dressed. He takes one last sip of water, rises to his feet, and without saying another word, makes his way to the bathroom. It’s hard to keep from watching him as he walks, and intently paying attention to each muscle as it tenses up and relaxes. He closes the door, and the shower starts up.
I tie my shoes, then gather all the empty water bottles and put them in the recycle bin. As I wait for him to finish, I look out the window. The sky is very cloudy, but small patches of blue are visible. It definitely makes all the buildings look less lustrous than they would be on a clear day.
I hear my phone buzz, and walk to the dresser to check it. It’s a text from James—Hey, cutie. Have any time to chat today? Would love to hear about how your weekend is going! I ask him if mid-afternoon would be a good time, and he responds that it would be. I tell him I’ll give him a call around that time of day.
Eric walks out of the bathroom, no towel wrapped around him or in his hand this time. I step away from the dresser so he can gather his outfit.
I look up at him. “Feel better?”
He nods as he starts putting on his boxer briefs. “Much better. That extra water you gave me sure is helping.”
I smile. “Good.” He pulls on his pants and starts putting on his shirt, then I continue, “What’s our plan after the massage?”
He pokes his head through the neck hole of his shirt, and pulls the rest of it down around his waist. “We can play it by ear. If you feel like you’re up for doing something later on, I’m fine with that. Just nothing too crazy. I don’t want to go overboard like we did last night.”
“Oh, me neither. I was just wondering, because James wanted to give me a call sometime this afternoon.”
“There’s always time for you to talk to James. He’s your guy.” He sits down and starts putting on his shoes. “Do you miss him?”
“Honestly, training all week and hanging out with you is helping to keep me pretty occupied.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I know what you mean. He’s probably busy himself, with Paul and the kids now in town, but it would be good for the two of you to steal some time away to yourselves to chat and catch up on what’s happened over the weekend.”
I nod. “I agree.”
He finishes tying his shoes and stands up. “Plus, when you and I get back in town, we need to plan a game night, all of us. I think Lorna would really enjoy meeting him.”
I smile. “I think she would, too.”
He takes a quick breath. “All right; ready to go?”
“Yep! Let’s get out of here.”
We go down to the restaurant. Thank goodness they’re still serving breakfast this late on a Sunday. We both place our orders and start eating as soon as the food is delivered. The coffee tastes really good, too, especially after the crazy night we both had.
We both finish up, and I check the time on my phone. “It looks like we still have a while before the massage. What should we do in the meantime?”
He sips the last of his coffee. “We should be able to check in early and hang out until our appointment time. Want to head there now?”
“Yeah, I don’t see why not.”
“Cool. Lead the way.”
He follows me on our way to the spa. We walk up to the front desk and I give the receptionist—a different person than who was here before—our names. She asks if it’s our first time here, and I tell her it is. She looks over to her right. “Luke, can you show these guys around?”
Luke walks over to the desk. “Sure thing, Ivy.” He turns his attention to us. “Welcome, guys. Follow me, and I’ll give you a tour of the spa.”
Luke leads us to the left and through an archway, where large letters that spell ‘MEN’ are posted. We round a corner and enter a really nice-looking area. There is soft, ambient music playing, and I smell a scent of what I think is eucalyptus. Whatever it is, it’s quickly putting me in a relaxed mood.
The path ahead of us splits, and Luke points to the left. “Let’s head this way, first. We’ve got restrooms, showers, and a changing area here.” We walk through a smaller doorway, and Luke points out lockers. “Choose any locker you want. Each of them has a robe and a pair of flip flops inside, should you want to wear them.”
We go around another corner. Luke points to a wooden door with a large pane of glass in the middle. “There’s the sauna, and right next door is a steam room.” We continue walking, and he points to a seating area. “You can watch some TV over there if you’d like, and help yourself to any of the water or snacks there.” He then points to a hot tub. It’s empty now, but looks like it could fit about 4 people. “And finally, over here is a hot tub. There are towels just about everywhere; use as many as you need, and make sure to return them along with your robe in any of the bins before you leave.”
He then stops and turns to us. “All of the areas back here are clothing optional. When it’s time for your appointment, one of us will call you to the front, and we’ll hand you over to your massage therapist. Obviously, we’ll go through a mixed-gender area, so just make sure you wear your robe or the clothes you have on now, and you should be good.” He claps his hands together. “Do you two have any questions?”
Eric and I share a quick glance, then he looks back at Luke. “Nope, I think we’re good, Luke. Thanks.”
Luke smiles. “No problem, guys. Let any of us know if you need anything.” With that, he turns and walks back out to the front.
I look up at Eric. “So, what should we do now?”
“Well, massage therapists work best when you’re not wearing much, so we should probably get out of our street clothes.” He turns and walks toward the lockers, and I follow him. He goes on, “I will say this, though—this place is much nicer than the one I go to for my massages back home.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They don’t have anything like a steam room or sauna, and they definitely don’t have a hot tub. This is way above par.”
We both choose a locker, take out the robe and flip flops that are inside, and walk over to the changing area. There are two benches—I sit on one and he sits on the other, facing each other.
We start taking off our shoes and socks, and I look up at him. “Are you supposed to wear underwear when getting a massage?”
“You certainly can, but it’s up to you whether you want to have any on or not.”
“What do you do?”
“I don’t wear any.”
“Oh. Aren’t you worried about, you know…”
“Getting hard?”
I gulp. “Yeah.”
He chuckles. “It hasn’t happened yet. They’ll probably have you lie down under some sheets or a towel, and the closest they’ll get to touching anywhere around that area would be your upper thighs and lower back. Plus, the atmosphere is so relaxing, it’ll be the furthest thing from your mind, trust me.”
We both stand up to remove the remainder of our clothes. I watch as Eric slides off his pants and then his underwear, neatly folding them and placing them on the bench. I act as nonchalant as I can as I take off my own clothes. He then grabs his shirt by the neckline and lifts it up and over his head, folding it and putting it on top of his other clothes. He takes his robe and wraps it around his naked body, and shortly after, I do the same.
He looks up at me. “What do you want to do while we wait?”
I shrug. “The hot tub would be fun, but we’ve been to the one on the roof plenty of times already. How about the sauna?”
He nods. “Sure, that sounds fine.”
He follows me as we walk over to the sauna. We both grab a towel from a stack nearby, and I pull on the very heavy door and am greeted by a blast of hot air. We step inside, and the door closes behind us. There’s only one other person inside—an older man.
I begin untying the straps on my robe. “I’m gonna burn up if I keep this on any longer.”
Eric chuckles nervously, then follows my lead, and starts to take off his own robe. We hang them on some hooks near the door, and turn around and walk toward one of the corners of the room. We step up to the higher level where it’s hotter, spread out our towels on the wooden bench, and sit down. He spreads his legs, leans back, and closes his eyes. Damn, it’s hard to keep from staring at him, but I know he could open his eyes at any second, and with the somewhat awkward moment we had in the middle of the night, I don’t want to be caught gawking at him. Though, if he was really worried about me staring at him, he would have kept himself covered with his towel. He wouldn’t be sitting here with me, naked and legs spread, right? Is this some kind of test?
We sit in silence for several minutes. I focus on the door, the heating stove, even the other guy—everything that isn’t Eric, or even near him. I run out of things to look at, and just decide to close my eyes and try to relax. A few moments later, I hear a creaking sound, and open my eyes. The other guy that was here before us stands up and leaves, and now it’s just Eric and me. I look over at him, and our eyes meet.
He wipes the sweat from his forehead. “How are you doing over there?”
I think for a second. “Warm.”
He chuckles. “That means the sauna’s working.” I smile at his observation, then he continues, his tone sounding more serious, “Can I, uh, ask you a question?”
I look away nervously. “Sure.”
He hesitates for a moment, then speaks up again, “Was I hallucinating, or did I actually wake up in the middle of the night with your arms around me?” Uh oh. I try to keep a stoic expression on my face. I’m quiet for so long, he goes on, “Because I definitely remember leaving the bar and getting in the cab, and I remember waking up in the middle of the night, but I don’t remember anything in-between.”
I look back at him. “Yeah, I had my arms around you.”
“Did… anything happen between us?”
I shake my head slowly. “No. We didn’t do anything else. All I did was hold you.” He looks away, and remains silent. I speak up again, “Do you believe me?”
He looks back at me. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I’m taken aback, and he quickly speaks up again, “Oh, god, I’m sorry. That came out wrong.” He clears his throat and looks at me more sincerely. “Of course I believe you, Brad. It’s just been a very long time since I’ve blacked out and had trouble remembering the night before, and this time I woke up in a very unusual situation, so I’m just trying to piece the events of last night together.” He looks back at the wall, and goes on, “Honestly, it really scares me when I realize I blacked out and have no recollection of the night before. And, there aren’t many people I’d trust if I blacked out around them, but you’re one of the few I do. I know you would never do anything to violate that trust.”
Truth be told, the temptation is palpable, but luckily for me, is also something I’ve been able to avoid giving into so far.
I take a deep breath. “Thank you for saying that, Eric. I’m glad you trust me as much as you do.” Out of the blue, I remember more clearly what he said to me the night before. “When I came to bed last night, you told me the room was spinning, and that one time in the past, Lorna held you in her arms to help you feel still and not get sick, and you asked me to do the same for you last night.”
He leans his head back and has a look of realization and understanding on his face. He then looks back at me. “That does sound like something I would say, huh?” He laughs.
I join him in laughing. “It did sound like an odd request.”
He looks away. “But you did it anyway. God damn it, Brad, you’re a fucking awesome friend.” He looks back at me and smiles. I smile back nervously, and his expression turns more serious. “Is everything all right?”
I look away and sigh. “I guess so.”
He takes a deep breath. “Did you have a good time last night?”
“Yeah! Going out to the bar was a blast! You were certainly having a lot of fun.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, during the parts I can remember.”
I look back at him. “You had almost too much fun.”
His facial expression turns serious again. “How bad was I when we got back to the hotel?”
“Well, you could hardly walk or stand up straight. I had to help you walk from the elevator to the room, and you had some trouble with your balance when you were getting undressed.”
He stares off into space. “Yeah, I did overdo it, huh? It’s not often when I go all out like that, but when I do…” He makes an exploding gesture with his hands. He looks at me. “Maybe this week, let’s lay off the alcohol. I need a bit of a break from the stuff.”
I nod. “Yeah, I completely understand that. I know how terrible it makes me feel, sometimes.”
He smiles knowingly. “Right. That reminds me of a friend I used to have. He used to say, ‘Alcohol lets you borrow happiness from tomorrow and use it today.’ And he certainly borrowed lots of happiness. Too much.” He looks down and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I brought that up.”
I lean forward and, before I can stop myself, I mindlessly place my hand on his bare knee. I fully expect him to flinch or shoo my hand away, but am surprised when he doesn’t even move a muscle. I regain my composure. “Eric, you don’t have to keep anything bottled up. Hell, I’ve shared so much stuff with you, and here you are, still my friend. If anything, it’s brought us closer because of it. You deserve the same treatment from me in return. I want you to feel comfortable enough to share anything with me.”
I realize I’m being very hypocritical with what I just said. There’s a huge secret I’m keeping from him—the fact that I’m really attracted to him—but if I tell him that, I risk never being able to be this close to him again. I don’t know if I’ll ever confess it to him. But, that would probably be the ultimate test of our friendship. If I can reveal that big of a secret to him, would we still stay friends? Not only that, but would we also keep doing the same kinds of things we’re doing now—that would be the ultimate test, huh? But the answer is not something I want to find out today. I’m enjoying my time with him so much, I can’t fathom a future without it—a future without him—so, I decide to keep my secret under tight security for the time being.
I’m brought back to reality when he squeezes my hand reassuringly. “Thanks, Brad. I’m glad I’ve found such a wonderful friend in you.”
I remove my hand from his knee, and we both lean back as we were a moment ago. He then continues, “So, be honest with me.” Uh oh, now I’m in the hot seat, quite literally. He goes on, “Was I being really forceful and belligerent last night?”
I shake my head. “No, I wouldn’t describe you like that. You were definitely very animated, though.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I can get like that sometimes.”
I smile at his comment; I had quite enjoyed his behaving animated last night. Soon, though, my expression turns to one of mild concern. “But what really threw me off was when you asked me to hold you.”
He matches my concerned expression. “Did you truly feel comfortable doing that?”
I laugh to try to lighten the mood. “When you first asked me, I thought you were joking! But you were persistent, and I know how disorienting it can be when it feels like the room is spinning, so I quickly realized you were serious. I kept asking you if you were really OK with me being that close to you, because it just seemed so unlike anything you would ask me to do, but after I saw how, uh, distraught you were, I knew it was important to help you feel safe and secure. So I did.”
He looks straight into my eyes. “Thank you for doing that for me, Brad. Truly, thank you. I know it was a very unusual thing to ask.”
I give him a comforting smile. “It’s not a problem at all. I’m glad I was there for you and could help. And I’m sure you would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
He thinks for a second, then throws his head back gently against the wall with a thud and laughs. “If you’d asked me that question yesterday, I would have told you ‘Hell no. Cuddle up next to a guy? Are you crazy? A straight guy is never supposed to do that!’ But now that you and I have crossed that line, I must step up and return the favor if need be, huh?”
He thinks to himself for a few moments, then looks at me, tilting his head. “This sounds so weird in my head, so I apologize ahead of time if this comes across wrong, but when I first met you, sure, you seemed like just a friendly guy, but I could have never imagined I would feel as connected to you as I do now. Back then, I wondered, ‘What really could I have in common with a gay guy? Not much.’ But now I look at you, now I know you better, and I don’t see a gay person anymore. I just see Brad. I see someone I actually have a lot in common with.”
He pauses and looks up at the ceiling, then continues, “When Rick asked you and me to work on this project together, when we started spending more time together, I quickly began to enjoy not only working with you, but also hanging out with you outside of work. When we started going for lunch out of the office, talking with you was such a nice distraction. It really helped me get my mind off of work. And right from the get-go, you were so comfortable and confident sharing your life story, and all its ups and downs. I don’t think I’ve ever opened myself up—to anyone—as much as you’ve opened up to me.”
He sighs. “I’ve never told you any of this—until now, that is—because I was always taught, since I was a young child, to be strong, but I think I grew up with the idea that that meant I had to keep my feelings and insecurities and vulnerabilities under wraps. But here you are, revealing just about everything about your life to me, being as vulnerable as possible, and you seem like the stronger of the two of us.”
I shake my head. “Eric, you’re a strong person, too.”
He scoffs. “But not as strong as you, Brad. I think last night, when we got back to the hotel, really taught me a lesson. That’s probably the most desperate and in-need you’ve seen me, and I imagine I tried to act totally fine, like I was fully in control—”
I nod. “—You did.”
“But from how you described last night to me, I gave up on trying to act fine, and was persistent on asking you for help.” He thinks for a second, then continues, “Being strong shouldn’t be about keeping things bottled inside and not asking for help, even though that’s how I was taught a man should act. It sounds odd, but instead, I should be secure about my insecurities. I should be OK with admitting when I get into a situation and need help, and be willing to accept that help.”
I nod. “That sounds like a good philosophy to live by.”
“Yeah, there shouldn’t be anything wrong with opening up and being vulnerable, should there?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think there should be.”
“You see, that’s why I enjoy spending so much time with you. I don’t think I would have ever admitted to anyone that I got so drunk I had to ask my wife to hold me to help me feel safe. But, especially since landing here in Vegas, you’ve made no effort to hide yourself from me, and I’ve felt myself opening up little-by-little, too, and I really like the way it feels. I like not having to hide myself from you. It’s so liberating, not having to maintain this façade. I feel like I have so much more energy, just being myself.”
I chuckle. “That’s a good thing.”
“Yeah, it feels great! It’s a feeling I want to hold on to for a long, long time.” He leans his head back, then continues, “And I have you to thank for getting me here. God, it’s taken almost 37 years, but I finally feel like I’m starting to really break free of my upbringing.” He laughs. “Hell, I was even a little nervous when we first came into the sauna and took off our robes.”
I give him a confused look. “Why would you be nervous? We’ve changed in front of each other plenty of times. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Exactly. It shouldn’t be. I mean, I have no problem changing in front of other guys at the gym, but with you, it’s different. You’re not some random guy at the gym I’m never going to see again—you’re my colleague, and my friend. I’ve never had to share a room for two weeks with someone like you before, and I didn’t want things to get awkward, or for you to feel uncomfortable.” He shakes his head. “But I noticed you taking the lead and acting as if it was no big deal to change in front of me, and I wondered why I was making such a big thing out of it. After all, clothes are just another layer to hide behind. It’s scary at first, being exposed like this, not having that layer of protection, but after a while, I’m realizing there’s nothing to fear—there’s nothing threatening about it. So what? You have a penis, I have a penis, and it’s not the end of the world if you see mine or if I see yours. They’re just penises.”
I laugh. “You’re right about that.”
He looks back at me. “Hell, the only other person I’ve been this naked in front of for this long is Lorna, and even now, she and I don’t get many chances to lately.” He chuckles. “It’s so relaxing being like this, not having to hide behind yet another layer. It’s so relaxing, it’s almost therapeutic.”
I smirk. “If it’s so therapeutic, do you even still need a massage?”
He gasps and his eyes widen. “Oh, shit, the massage! I totally forgot in all my ranting…” His eyes dart around and zero in on the clock on the wall, which prompts me to look at it, too. It reads 12:20. We both breathe a sigh of relief.
He gets up and steps down to the floor. “Shit, after all that, I’m surprised we still had time left. I’m sorry, Brad, I talk way too much sometimes.”
I hop down next to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “Eric, don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Opening up is one of the most amazing things someone can do, and I’m delighted that you chose to open up to me.”
He pulls me into a hug. “Well, in any case, thank you for being there to listen to me. You’re truly a great friend, Brad.”
He holds me in this tight embrace longer than I expect. I gently clear my throat. “We should probably move apart before I start getting hard.” We break the hug, and I gasp. “Fuck, did I say that out loud?”
He makes a devilish grin. “You bet your ass you did. And I don’t think I’d even mind. You’re a guy—it’s only natural.”
I lift my towel and wipe the sweat from my forehead, which I know has probably been there the entire time we’ve been in the sauna, but after what I just said, could have shown up just in the past few seconds.
He tosses his towel over his shoulder, walks over to the door, and takes both robes off their hooks, handing one to me. “Come on, let’s go.”
if on the rare chance I was ever to go I'd have to remember to sit back out of the way 
