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.And the very thought of restaurant tables made him realize that he was starving.§ § §From the Observatory, Grant drove to El Coyote, this time self-parking in a metered street space.Seated on the outside patio, he ordered, and slowly savored, the restaurant’s largest meal: the three-course Guacamole dinner, washing it down with glasses of Diet Coke.Grant’s appetite for food satisfied, he became aware of another pressing hunger.Several weeks had passed since having sex that wasn’t by his own hand.He was horny, eager for someone else’s erotic touch, longing to touch someone other than himself.After the last few rocky days, forgetting about his not-so-brilliant career with someone sexy sounded like a tonic.§ § §Everyone knows that West Hollywood’s Santa Monica Boulevard is lined with gay clubs, and so Grant drove there, parking curbside, near the corners of Santa Monica and Crescent Heights Boulevards.Walking a short distance, he found himself in front of a windowless, black-painted building.A neon sign read: “Whackers – Cocktails.” But the neon spelling “tails” had burned out.And so, what remained illuminated, heralded “Whackers - Cock.”Grant laughed aloud.With a name like Whackers, this has got to be good.And so he slowly, cautiously, opened the heavy wooden door.This was his first time in a gay club that wasn’t in the San Joaquin Valley.And, as regards things gay, Grant knew that there was more separating Hollywood from Selma, California, than two hundred twenty miles.Stepping inside tentatively, his nose received the first sensory impression.Whackers smelled of stale beer, sawdust, testosterone, and forbidden pleasure.Grant inhaled the mélange, savoring the compound aromas – most especially the one that evoked things forbidden.Next, his eyes reported that it would take them time to adjust to the club’s dim, bordering on nonexistent, lighting.When that adjustment had been partially made, Grant was happily surprised by the sheer number of men in the club.Not yet three p.m., several dozen guys were bar-side, enjoying an early “Happy Hour” cocktail.As the saying goes, somewhere in the world, it must be Happy Hour.On the dance floor, several dozen men gyrated to a hip-hop version of Smokey Robinson’s “I Second That Emotion,” playing on the jukebox.Incredible.Comparisons to the San Joaquin Valley were unavoidable.The gay club at Frank’s Pine Lake Lodge would be lucky to attract a crowd this size on a Saturday night, much less on a weekday afternoon.As Grant’s eyes further adjusted to the semi darkness, he saw that everyone here was West Hollywood handsome – that’s somewhere between strikingly good-looking and drop dead gorgeous.Closer scrutiny revealed that the men varied in age from barely legal to AARP eligible.I am going to like it here.Grant recalled a song from Flower Drum Song, a1960s Rodgers and Hammerstein movie musical that he and Mama had enjoyed on American Movie Classics.Leaning into the bar, Grant ordered a drink from the shirtless, muscled and tattooed bartender: “A Cajun Dirty Martini, please.Three Olives.”No sooner had he ordered than a whispered buzz replaced the conversations in the club.The jukebox played on, but the dancers froze in place.Grant saw that everyone was staring in his direction.For a brief moment, he panicked.Had Whackers camera-ready cronies sniffed out a small-town interloper, him, in their midst? Were the regulars about to come after the outsider, him, carrying torches, in the same way the villagers had stalked Frankenstein’s monster? Grant’s panic quickly morphed into relief when he realized that, although everyone was staring in his direction, they didn’t seem to be gazing at him.They appeared to be looking beyond him, and toward the front door.Seeing that everyone’s eyes were trained on the front door, Grant also shifted his gaze to the entrance, where an exquisitely handsome, no, let’s make that heart-stoppingly beautiful, young man, entered into the club’s darkness.Wearing shorts that set off his tanned, leanly-muscled legs, and a black tank top that showcased exquisite upper torso development, this stunning blond’s looks easily eclipsed everyone else’s.No small feat.Grant’s eyes followed the beauty as he slowly made his way to one of the club’s small cabaret tables.“It’s Cameron.Cameron Cody.” The excited buzz started echoing throughout the club.“Are you sure?”“Sure.”Can it really be? Cameron Cody was the biggest gay adult film star in the world.Back in Selma, Grant had watched several of his movies on DVD, when his parents weren’t home.More than a porn superstar, Cameron Cody was a gay god.What James Dean had been to his grandmother’s generation of heterosexual youths, Cameron Cody was to the new century’s gay community.The bartender leaned in toward Grant.Like everyone else, he had been distracted and held spellbound by Cameron Cody’s entrance.Now, he asked again, “Sorry, what was it you wanted, handsome?”“A Cajun Dirty Martini.Three olives, please”While Grant sat upon a barstool, awaiting his cocktail, the bartender personally delivered a blue-colored blender concoction to Cameron Cody at his table.Grant couldn’t take his eyes off the star.I wouldn’t have believed it possible, but he’s even more gorgeous in person.Grant noted that, except for the bartender, not one person went over to Cameron Cody’s table.And no one spoke to him.He sat there, alone with his drink, but with the attention of every man in the club.I’ve got a lot to learn.There must be an etiquette with stars – a protocol.Look, but don’t speak to, or touch.West Hollywood was a bold new world – one in which he wanted to belong – and Grant was eager to learn its rules.After a new song started on the jukebox, the dancing resumed, as did the conversations.It was then that Grant finally noticed the man sitting on the stool beside him.Fit, handsome and close-up ready, this guy was appealing – and then some.And Grant was horny, hormone boiling horny.So he extended his hand to the guy.“Hello, I’m Grant.”“Eddie,” the man replied, not offering his hand in return.Eddie.Grant repeated the name to himself, savoring its sound.He liked the name.He had long since tired of the trendy gay boy monikers like Kyle, Jordan and Kerwyn.Eddie was a real name for a real man.At last, the bartender set Grant’s drink and a napkin in front of him.“What’s happening, Eddie?” Grant asked, trying to steer him into a conversation and, eventually, into a hook-up.But Eddie didn’t take the bait.Instead, he studied Grant as if he were a map, a painting, or a blueprint.When he finally spoke, Grant didn’t much care for what he said, “Don’t waste your time.You’re way too pretty for me.You gorgeous guys are great for test drives.I’m looking to buy.”Grant was uncertain how to respond to Eddie’s comment.Should he be flattered because Eddie had called him “gorgeous,” or should he be offended because the guy had rejected him? At least Eddie had a new line.Never before had Grant been blown off because someone told him that he was too good-looking.In fact, Grant couldn’t ever remember being blown off – period.Shaken by this rebuff, and resisting a strong urge to flee the club, Grant took a long, deep breath before responding.“You’re right about one thing, Eddie,” Grant began tentatively.“We are at opposite ends of the spectrum here.I’m not looking for commitment
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Tematy
IndexChristine Amsden [Cassie Scot Cassie Scot ParaNormal Detecti
Christine Wood [Life Plan 01] A Life Plan Without You (epub)
Christie Craig [Divorced, Des Divorced, Desperate
Moore Christopher Ssij, mała, ssij (II)
Christine Cody [Bloodlands 01 Bloodlands (epub)
Christina Ross [Unleash Me, A Unleash Me, Vol 3 (epub)
Christian Fletcher [The Left Left on the Brink (epub)
Stasheff, Christopher Wizard in Rhyme 6 Haunted Wizard
Christopher G Nuttall [Royal The Royal Sorceress (epub)
Christine Feehan Mroczna Seri Mroczny Demon