The Lover (It's Just Us Here Book 4)

by Christopher X Sullivan

  “You worked all day!”

  “It was inefficient. And how many times did we stop for kiss breaks?”

  He smirked at me, but I kept my lips in a firm frown.

  “Kiss break!” Mark decreed. We kissed until I pulled away.

  “I’ll see you this afternoon. I need to get ready for the club—prepare myself.”

  “You can’t think about it too much. You’ve never been to the club so your mind is going to be on overdrive. Just let me handle it. I’ll be there for you. If it ever gets too much, I’ll be there for you.”

  “I know.” I kissed him on the cheek. “Just like you’re there for me at the straight clubs. I remember how you acted when you lost me.”

  “Fuck, that scared the shit out of me. I had no idea where you were. Of course you were hiding in a corner.” He pinched my butt. “No hiding tonight. Tonight I’m showing you off. I want you to meet Claude and Marty.”

  Claude and Marty were his ‘adopted gay dads’. Mark had known them since he started college. They helped him navigate his entry into adulthood as a gay man. Mark stated that he had never fucked around with them and he made that claim like it was something honorable. I just rolled my eyes.

  I eventually became very good friends with Claude and Marty. They had been together for over fifteen years and were good role models for Mark. I admired their stability and longevity.

  I left Mark’s apartment and drove to my new place while cursing about how I had to cross over a major intersection in the middle of the day. Suhail and Nick were, thankfully, gone. I sat my portable writing station on the dining table—which was the only table—and got back to work. By the time Suhail showed up at five, I had my extra day of vacation in the bag so I texted Mark:

  = +1 day =

  ~cool story bro~

  I was chatting with Suhail when Mark stormed into our apartment like a tornado. “Let’s blow this joint,” Mark said excitedly.

  “I was winding down,” I said. “I have a little more editing—”

  “Fuck that! You texted me. That means you’re done.”

  “It’s five o’clock. I can work for at least three more—” Mark covered my mouth.

  “Will you just listen to me for once in your life? You’ve been working since seven. That’s enough for one day. If you’re nervous about tonight, I’ll be right there beside you.” Mark wrapped me in a hug and stared into my eyes. “If you don’t want to go tonight, we’ll go on Thursday. Or we’ll go next Tuesday. If you’re brave enough to tackle a weekend, we’ll go on Saturday and really see the crazy.”

  I leaned against him and sighed. “Okay.”

  “Right. First things first, we need to get you home and get you a nap.”

  I laughed, but Mark was serious about the nap. We were going to stay out past midnight so a nap would do me wonders. Just thinking about Mark’s plans made me yawn.

  “See! You need a nap. You’ve done enough today.”

  I tidied up the table and locked my room. “I do not need a nap,” I protested. We headed for the door.

  “Have fun,” Suhail said.

  “You’re welcome to come,” Mark offered casually. He wore the same wolf smile he had used on me when we first met (it didn’t work on me, but it worked on almost everyone).

  “You guys are a lot of fun, but you will never get me to a gay club.” (We did, in fact, get him to a gay club... and it only took a couple months.)

  “We’ll see,” Mark said. And thus began his weird obsession with pushing Suhail out of the closet. Suhail wasn’t gay in the slightest, so Mark pushed for a long time before he gave up.

  We went home and took a nap, just like Mark said. He stripped me of my clothes without tearing them. He pointed out how slow it was to peel a shirt off my tight chest.

  “If you didn’t buy me such small clothes, then they wouldn’t peel like this.” He left the shirt covering my face and pinned my arms so I couldn’t slide away. Then he gently pushed me onto the bed and took off my shorts.

  “You’ve got to buy a belt. You look skanky walking around without a belt.”

  I struggled out of my shirt the rest of the way. “I thought you liked that my butt could hold up my pants?”

  “I do.” He nibbled on the side of my butt. Yuck. “Tonight you’re wearing a belt.”

  “You don’t want any hands getting in my shorts...”

  “Only my hands are allowed in your shorts.” He kissed me, then gave me a massage. Mark was a very experienced masseuse.

  “What’s all this for?” I asked.

  “I want you nice and relaxed. Just close your eyes and drift away. I’m going to take care of you all night. You’re going to have a great time.” His hands were soft on my skin, hypnotizing. He had model hands—tough where he was used to lifting weights, but not like a workman’s hands. Mine had softened, too—my dad would laugh at me if he ever heard me call them workman’s hands.

  I let the heat carry me away. Mark settled in the bed next to me. I turned and threw my arm over his body possessively.

  Some time later, I woke up as he was getting out from under me. I felt him kiss me on the forehead and squeeze my arm.

  “I’m up,” I groaned because he wouldn’t leave me alone.

  “I’m not falling for that again. For someone who gets up so easily in the morning, you’re hell to get up after a nap.”

  I didn't open my eyes. “When I sleep—I sleep. I never nap.”

  “Naps are healthy.”

  “Whatever.” I sunk back into my sleep. Mark wiggled my body. I grunted and rolled over. “Okay... I’m awake now.” I still hadn’t opened my eyes. Mark flicked my cock. My hand shot up, my eyes opened angrily, and I somehow ended up in a defensive crunch—not a crouch, but a crunch.

  “Now you’re up,” he commented. He sauntered out of the bedroom naked and started making our meal. I threw on some gym shorts; we ate dinner. Mark was cheerful as I pondered my fate in a weary silence.

  We dressed. Mark was hyper-attentive to me. He complimented me excessively, which was a surefire way to aggravate me. He put gel in my hair and said I needed a haircut. He touched my shirt until it sat just how he wanted it. Then for some reason he straightened my shirt again. He brushed his knuckles on my face to make sure it was oil-free.

  “Damn. I have a paste to get rid of blackheads. I’ll have to show you how to use it.”

  “Are you going to straighten my socks, too?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Fuck! Why are you wearing socks! How could I have been so blind!” He jumped at me and pinned me against the bathroom counter.

  “Let me go!” Gah! I punched him on the arm. Normally I would slap him playfully, but I was agitated. “Too much attention. I don’t like when you do this.”

  “I’m just making sure you look your best.”

  “Well nothing you do is going to give me a smaller nose!”

  He kissed me on the nose. “Your nose is perfect. Your smile is a tiny bit lopsided, but it’s perfect. Your eyes are so beautiful—I love them. Your ears stick out the side of your head like monkey ears.” He grabbed the tops of both my ears.

  Was that supposed to make me feel better?

  “And fuck, this jawline slays, dude. Slays. And when we trim your neck beard, like I just did. BAM!” He shouted in my ear.

  “That’s enough!” I cried. “If we’re going to do this, let’s get it over with.”

  “You can wear your orange pants if you want.”

  “You said it was going to be hot. And I’m not in the mood to get picked on anymore. I want to blend in.”

  “You’ll never blend in, dude. If you’re with me, you won’t blend in.” He kissed me sweetly. Mark knew not to kiss me passionately when I was nervous—I didn’t respond well to it, but I loved his little kisses and little touches. I loved knowing that he was present and near me.

  We took an Uber to the club.

  I’m not going to give you the name of the real club because then you will
be able to stop there and ask about a certain model who used to frequent the joint. And then you would know who Mark is and then you would know who I am and then word would leak to the internet and my privacy would be shot. I don’t want you to know who I am. I don’t want to do interviews or to have my face recorded on the internet for all time. I want to be anonymous and I want these memories to stand on their own merit. My goodness, I am wobbling like crazy on this whole ‘anon’ thing.

  Of course, since I’m still anonymous this means that you, the Reader, will have the most control over whether this story rots away as nothing more than pixels and wasted time... or if it becomes someone’s favorite story.

  And as for the name of the club—Mark’s favorite club. I’m going to call it The Ugly Rhino because I thought ‘Pretty Rhino’ sounded too gay. Then I thought ‘Ugly Unicorn’ sounded really, really gay. But I asked my husband which name he would use for a club and he said to stick with The Ugly Rhino. Then, he reasoned, if my memoir becomes popular, the bars in Boystown could name a drink after him—the original Ugly Rhino.

  So that’s what I’m going to call the club. But there might also be some confusion because Mark had taken to calling his group of friends the ‘Ugly Rhinos’ after that incident in the library where I lost my cool and angrily stated that Mark was as ugly as a rhinoceros. So the bar is called The Ugly Rhino and Mark’s friends are the Ugly Rhinos.

  I know... that’s too confusing. But don’t worry, I won’t refer to the club by its name that often. It will simply be ‘the club’ for most of this memoir.

  ON OUR DRIVE TO THE club, Mark tried to calm me down. “The guys are going to love you. I told them to be on their best behavior.”

  “You don’t have to tell everyone to act differently around me. You told Tim and Ryan when I first met them. You told your family.”

  “I’m looking out for you. And that was different. I didn’t want to scare you off. You were so skittish.” He rubbed my hair.

  “Stop it. I’m not skittish.” I’m very skittish. “I don’t want you to bring even more attention to me by saying stuff like that. I just want to be me.”

  “If I let you just be you, the guys would eat you alive. Trust me. They’ll be nice to you tonight.” Mark smiled. “I just want you relaxed. We’re getting there early so you can get your bearings.”

  “Early! It’s almost ten o’clock!”

  “We’re going out to dance and have a good time. You took a nice long nap. You have enough days to take a vacation tomorrow.”

  “I’m not going to be out until four in the morning!”

  Mark kissed me sweetly. “I don’t intend to stay out that long. But you’re going to have a good time. We’re going to share a few drinks, hit the floor and meet my friends. Then we’ll go home. When you say the word, we’ll go home.”

  “Let’s go home,” I whined.

  “Don’t be a little bitch,” Mark said quickly. I glared at him for using that word. “What?” he whispered. “You’re going to like it. Trust me on this one.”

  “I trust you,” I said. We stopped in the middle of the gay district. It felt like I was in a fishbowl. Mark assured me that it was much busier on the weekend. I didn’t care. I don’t want to come here on the weekend.

  “Do you want to sit outside for a minute?” Mark asked. I nodded. We sat on a bench near the entrance and chatted. We watched the guys walk the streets. I was surprised to see so many women. “Just because it’s a gay neighborhood doesn’t mean it’s anti-women or anti-straight. On the weekends this place is more techno, pulsing and a hook-up hot spot. But during the week you get people like Claude and Marty coming here.”

  As we were waiting there, we saw two guys that I recognized. “Hey! It’s Devon and Shane.”

  “I told them to be here already,” Mark grumbled. We stood up and greeted the guys from Mark’s building.

  “You’re getting here early,” Devon commented.

  “I’ve got to let my guy get used to the atmosphere.” We walked into the vestibule of the club. I got shy because of the cover fee. “I’ve got you covered, dude,” Mark said. We walked into the club.

  Despite what Mark may have assumed, I had been to one gay nightclub in the past. This was nothing like that one. For one thing, this one was one giant, open area. There was a second floor, but it was a balcony around the pit in the center. There was a dais near the center of the room connected to a stage along the far wall. Neither the stage nor the dais were in use.

  We navigated through the lower level and found our way up the stairs on the far end of the club. “This is our spot,” Mark said. It overlooked the floor. “Normally we’re pushed in the back, but it’s a Tuesday, so we aren’t fighting anyone for these seats.”

  “Speak for yourself, Mark,” a man at the table said. “We’ve been here for an hour and fought of a pack of hyenas for you.”

  Mark gave the man a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Mark also greeted the second man with a kiss. They were both—and I hate to say this about such good friends—but they were both plain and below average in the looks department. The first one would be best described as ‘plum-like’ with a plum-shaped body and splotchy skin. He had the pudgier face of the two men, but the second guy was also quite round. Maybe I would describe the other guy as ‘peach-shaped’ with his reddish hair, though that could have been from the lighting in the room, and for his fuzzier facial hair.

  I stood shyly and averted my eyes from the two unfamiliar men. The peach guy extended his hand into my personal space. “So you’re the guy? I’m Arthur. Call me Marty.”

  “Marty!” the plum guy chastised. “Can you not be yourself for one night? Let Mark introduce us to this fine-looking man.”

  “Oh yeah. Guys, this is Chris. Chris, this is Marty and this is Claude.” Mark beamed as I shook their hands.

  Marty stared at me up and down. “Quite a looker, Mark. You weren’t kidding.” Marty grinned. “Wouldn’t expect any less out of you.”

  “Thanks guys. It took me months to get him in a shirt like that. Keep telling him it looks good.”

  Marty was practically drooling over me. I was extremely uncomfortable. I wondered if this was how Marty normally acted or if he was putting on a show for me... or if the other guys normally acted as horny, but were restraining themselves because of Mark’s request.

  I was blushing furiously, but the lights were multicolored and my skin was dark from all the summer sun. I hadn’t spent much time outside that summer, but I was naturally dark-complected and could get a burnished tan with barely any time in the sun. It was a product of my Hungarian heritage.

  We settled into our seating arrangements. I went with Mark to get drinks. When he asked how I was doing I said, “Good,” and kept my left side to the dancefloor so I didn’t have to look at it directly. There weren’t many people out there. Tuesday night was apparently a lounge night and the club was a place for guys to meet after work and unwind.

  Chaz showed up at our table with an extremely young guy. Chaz was the assistant who helped me at my suit fitting. He was not in a professional state of mind.

  I kept close to Mark’s side and didn’t let anyone get between us. It made me feel like a chipmunk... constantly on alert and ready to dart in a zigzag pattern until I found a safe shadow.

  There were no shadows in that club, unfortunately. Or maybe it was just that Mark wouldn’t let me go look for them. Mark grabbed my hand under the table while we polished off our first drinks. I settled against the back of the chair and scanned the floor. Mark wrapped his arm around my neck and lightly touched my shoulder.

  “Do you want to go out there?” he asked in my ear.

  I gulped. Are there any other options?

  “You don’t have to take your shirt off. If Marty and Claude go out, will you go dance? They never grind.”

  Great. Just because Marty and Claude never bump and grind... suddenly that’s supposed to mean it’s okay for me to go out there?

  “What
ever you want,” I murmured.

  “It’s not scary. There’s nothing intense going on out there. You should see it on a weekend. Right, Shane? This place gets crazy.”

  “You can’t even see the floor on a Friday,” Shane confirmed. What the hell was with all these comparisons to the weekend?

  “I don’t like to dance,” I said softly so only Mark could hear me.

  “No one is going to laugh at you.” Mark flexed—something he would do with or without a valid reason. “And if they give you a hard time, I’ll beat the shit out of them.”

  “And risk your pretty face?”

  “For you, it would be worth it.”

  I smiled. Mark knew he had won. He led me to the dance floor and held me tight. There was a lot of naked chests—hairy, smooth, muscular, flabby, skinny. I felt self-conscious and didn’t turn away from Mark. He bounced around and I tried to move as fast as my stiff joints could manage. I was a robot.

  I did a robot move.

  “No-o-o,” Mark said while laughing. He pinned my arms to my side so I wouldn’t do that again. “Shit. Don’t embarrass me.” He prodded my knees apart and showed me how to bump and grind—something I always hated to watch... but actually doing it was worse. I looked at Mark and drew strength from him. He was very encouraging.

  Mark unbuttoned his shirt to show off his cleavage. I struggled not to laugh because... I mean... he didn’t have boobs. Why did he need to show off his cleavage? I smiled and he smiled at me, not knowing what I thought was funny.

  I touched him, but then backed off. He bumped closer to me and I didn’t back off. He touched me. We continued that cat and mouse game until Mark had enough and turned me around so that my butt was lined up with his crotch. His arm snaked around my chest and held me firmly so that I couldn’t escape. His warm breath was against my ear.

  “Look at all these guys. The two hottest guys are here in the corner grinding on each other. I bet you could get anyone here, if you wanted.” I knew Mark thought that was a compliment, but it was not the right thing to say to me.

  I turned my head and wanted to tell him I was ready to leave, but held back.