Just then, Johnny heard a familiar laugh, a chromatic trilling down a scale that could only belong to the man named Ginger. Sure enough, the orange-headed guy came into the courtyard, followed by a Latino man with dark, straight hair falling into one eye. He was dressed simply in a yellow shirt and blue jeans.
They stood together for a moment, the Latino man lighting a cigarette while Ginger leaned toward him, touching him on the arm, on the shoulder—his touch a caress, proprietary, but also somehow indicating a sort of deference, or even reverence, for him.
“I think that’s Eric Méndez,” Amanda whispered. “I’ve never met him, but he’s, like, famous in gay S&M circles. Marlon knows him because she knows everyone from bartending. She’s talked about him before. Apparently, he’s very hot, very much in demand. He trains slaves. Men only, of course. No women allowed in his particular club.” She laughed.
Johnny felt himself becoming dizzy again. He leaned against the wall, feeling the cool brick against his neck and wishing he could sink down to the ground. His legs felt rubbery, like he’d been running for a long time. He wished he were back in his safe apartment, watching a movie, eating microwave popcorn, his mind blissfully blank.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off the man called Eric. There was something magnetic about him and Johnny had to make a conscious effort not to move toward him. Other people felt it too apparently, as a circle of men quickly formed around the couple. They were all talking, seeming to clamor for Eric’s attention as they gestured and moved around him. It was as if he were some kind of king, holding court for his adoring subjects.
As he watched them, Eric turned slowly and his eyes fell upon Johnny. Involuntarily Johnny caught his breath. The man’s eyes were a rich, dark brown, heavily fringed with dark lashes. His face was angular, the jaw strong, the nose long, with the nostrils slightly flared. He was—the word fell unbidden and unwelcome into Johnny’s head—stunning.
It wasn’t simply that the man was handsome—there was something else about him that made Johnny’s heart begin to pound. It was as if the man were reading his soul. Drinking it in, stealing something from Johnny he wasn’t ready to give. Not to anyone. The man continued to stare at Johnny, and he couldn’t seem to tear his own eyes away.
“Whoa,” Amanda whispered. “He’s seen you. He likes what he sees.” Her voice was almost reverent, as if she too were under his peculiar spell.
Johnny started to speak but his voice came out a hoarse croak. He tried again. “I need to go, Amanda. I think I’m getting sick or something. I need to get out of here.”
Amanda looked at her friend. “You don’t look so good, Johnny. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She put her hand on his arm. “Don’t let Eric Méndez freak you out. He has that effect on a lot of people, from what I’ve heard. I think the word’s charisma. You should be honored, actually. Eric doesn’t turn his eye on just anyone.”
“I have to go.” Johnny moved suddenly, as if he had been rooted to the spot by the strange man’s stare, and was forcing himself to be free of it. He headed back toward the door, bumping another man as he passed, barely aware.
Amanda followed him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “Hey, J. You okay? Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you here tonight. I thought maybe you were ready but—”
“Ready for what? I’m just feeling a little sick is all. You stay here. Give Marlon my regrets. I know how to get back to Brooklyn from here. No big deal. I’m sorry if I’ve messed up your evening. I’ll call you later in the week.” He bent down and kissed Amanda lightly on the cheek.
She reached up, patting his head. “’K, Johnny.” She smiled. “Hope you feel better.”
Chapter 3
Johnny was running down a long, narrow tunnel. He could feel his lungs scraping against his ribs, his breath burning in his throat. The pursuer was behind him, hurtling relentlessly toward him, something or someone unknown to him. He only knew he had to keep running. If he stopped, even for a moment, the pursuer would catch him.
Terror pressed him on, giving him wings as he flew down the dark, damp corridor. He could hear the demon closing in behind him, gaining on him. He knew he couldn’t run much farther. He felt a draft against his bare chest. He felt his cock distending, his balls slapping his bare thighs. He realized he was naked.
The presence was gaining on him. He started to cry as he ran, tears wetting his cheeks. He couldn’t let it catch him. He couldn’t. Far ahead he saw a light. If he could just get to it, just get to that light, he would be free. He grabbed his cock as he ran—it was now fully erect and, in spite of his fear he was wildly aroused.
He began to massage his cock as he moved forward, which slowed him down. He stumbled a little, losing his pace. He could feel the pursuer’s breath on the back of his neck. It was over. He was going to die. The person lunged and grabbed Johnny by the throat.
Johnny gave a strangled cry and fell to his knees. In the semi-darkness he could see the profile of his captor. Strong fingers pressed his windpipe. He could hear the man breathing heavily as he moved his face close to Johnny’s. He recognized the man but he couldn’t recall from where. Johnny felt him moving in for the kill and he screamed.
Johnny sat up in bed, covered in sweat, his heart racing. He realized he’d awakened himself with his own cry. The nightmare was still vivid in his mind and it took him several moments to calm himself enough to fully awaken.
Eventually his breathing slowed and he took a long drink from the bottle of water beside his bed. He lay back down, looking out his bedroom window at the sign that spelled the words “Moonstruck Diner” in purple neon. The “D” kept blinking on and off. Johnny closed his eyes.
What a dream! It had been so vivid, yet he didn’t know what it meant. Who had the strange man been, the one pursuing him, the one who wanted to kill him?
Johnny thought about the dream for a long time as he lay in his bed, his hand idly stroking his cock. As the man had finally caught him, pulling him down to his knees, he hadn’t been about to kill him, had he? No. Be honest, Johnny. He had been about to kiss him.
Johnny felt his cock stiffen and knew the dream was to blame. The man had been shorter than Johnny, his muscles compact and solid as rock as he wrapped strong arms around Johnny. His straight black hair fell over into one eye as he brought his face close to Johnny’s.
Johnny closed his eyes, remembering the man as he’d last seen him in real life, at that club. At that gay bar. Eric Méndez. Handsome, sexy, mesmerizing, dangerous. Because he’d only just awakened, because his usual defensive shields were lowered, Johnny didn’t censor his own fantasies as he normally did. Instead, he let the images flow, imagining Eric leaning over for a kiss, imagining Eric’s lips—full and soft—parting, wet and eager as he slid them over Johnny’s hard cock, taking the shaft deep into his throat…
When Johnny came, he let out a loud sigh and whispered a single word. “Eric.”
~*~
Amanda and Johnny sat together in front of the TV, their feet on the old coffee table. Johnny had just gotten off work and had brought a change of clothing with him. He showered at her place since his shower wasn’t working at the moment and the super was taking his time getting it fixed.
Amanda stood. “I think I’m going to need a jacket tonight. Did you notice there’s a hint of autumn in the air? I love autumn.” It was mid-September in New York, that peculiar time of year when nature seemed unsure if it was still summer or if fall was on the way. It was the Wednesday after Johnny had abruptly left the gay bar by himself. He hadn’t spoken to Amanda since then, except a short conversation confirming he was coming over that evening so they could go to the movies, as previously planned.
Now Johnny didn’t stand up, instead saying, “Do you mind if we skip the movie? I don’t really feel like going. You have any beer left?”
“Skip the movie? But you were the one—”
“I know, but I don’t want to go. Okay? Please?”
“Well, sure,
I guess. We can stay here and watch TV.” Amanda looked puzzled, but then brightened and added, “We can order Chinese.”
“Listen.” Johnny paused for a moment. “Do you have any more beer? I could really go for some right now.”
“Nope, sorry. Me and Marlon polished it off last night. But I have something better. Some really good bourbon Marlon brought home from the club. Want some? Smooth over ice. Hmmmm.” She licked her lips suggestively and grinned.
“Yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”
Johnny could hear Amanda in the kitchen dropping cubes of ice into the glasses. He took a deep breath and pushed the hair back from his forehead.
Though he hadn’t talked to Amanda about it, hadn’t talked to anyone about it obviously, that night at the bar had been burned into his brain. Every detail—the way the handcuff earring dangled from Ginger’s lobe, the sound of the music around them, the almost cloying smell of clove and sage incense, the color of Eric’s eyes when he’d turned to stare…
Johnny shook his head, forcing the image of the dark stranger to dislodge. It was no use. He was back in a moment, his presence like some secret spirit that had planted itself in Johnny’s psyche.
He hadn’t dreamed of him again since that night, but the dream had seemed to hover on the edge of his consciousness, always with him like some secret medallion worn round his throat. He’d come to remember it less as a nightmare and more as an eerie, magical dream, a dream he found he wanted to return to. To see what would happen next. To feel the kiss he now was certain he had been about to receive, if only his own fear hadn’t precluded it.
He had thought of little but the dream and the man who had inspired it in the past few days. It was almost as if he were in love. Which was ridiculous, of course.
Why couldn’t he feel this way about a woman? Why couldn’t he find a woman who made his heart pound, who made him feel like the world belonged to him, who made him feel alive? Then everything would be fine. He’d get her number and call her, and they’d fall in love, get married and have children. This would make his parents happy and everything would be perfect. Johnny grinned a little. Even he knew he was being ridiculous. Life was never so simple.
What was wrong with him? He was twenty-four and had never even been near love, much less in it. Amanda and Marlon seemed to have some special secret spark between them. His brothers were happily married. Most of his friends were married or dating someone. Now he was secretly obsessed with a man. A gay man into all sorts of weird perversions, no less. What was wrong with him?
Amanda came back into the room, setting down the glasses and a half full bottle of bourbon. She unscrewed the cap and poured them each several inches. Silently they toasted one another and Johnny took a long drink. The burn felt good going down.
“So what’s up, J? What’s the burning issue you must share with your best girl?” Amanda grinned and then raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Spill the beans—I’m all ears.”
Johnny sighed and poured himself another several fingers of bourbon. He had to talk about this…this obsession. It was the only way to exorcise himself of it. “Amanda. There’s something wrong with me.”
“Well, I know that.” Amanda laughed. “Something wrong with me too. That’s why we like each other.” She laughed again, but soon sobered when Johnny didn’t smile back.
“I’m serious. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I can’t stop thinking about—” He bit his lip, his courage failing.
“About what? What’s the matter, honey?”
Forcing himself to go on Johnny said, “About Eric. Eric Méndez. That guy at the club.”
“Oh! Well, that’s certainly no surprise. Half the gay population of New York can’t stop thinking about Eric Méndez. Eric Méndez is heat incarnate. Eric Méndez is almost sexy enough to turn me straight!” Amanda giggled and then added, “Almost, but not quite.”
“I’m serious, Amanda. This isn’t funny. I had this dream. Well, at first it felt like a nightmare. But it was about Eric. He was after me. I was naked. He caught up to me. Nothing really happened, but the feelings! It was so intense. So—Jesus—so sexual. I can’t get it out of my head. I’ve been thinking about it for days. I’m straight. I’m not supposed to fall for a guy, for god’s sake! What’s wrong with me.”
Amanda stared at Johnny. She’d been about to take a drink of her bourbon but it remained forgotten, her hand still half raised to her lips.
“You’re what?”
“Huh?”
“You said you were straight? Did I hear this correctly?” Amanda’s voice was soft, incredulous.
“What do you mean, of course I said that. Why wouldn’t I say that? Do you think otherwise? I’ve never been with a guy, are you kidding me? Jesus! I’ve had four girlfriends. What is your problem?”
Amanda stared a few moments longer at her friend. Slowly she drank the rest of her bourbon and set the glass down hard against the coffee table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Johnny turned away, an angry tightness gripping his chest. Images were roiling through his brain—memories of his arousal in his dream, the passionate feeling as he remembered Eric’s face so close to his, the secret, half-recalled fantasies of someone behind him, a man with a whip, making him moan…
“Jesus,” he groaned. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know where my head is at.”
“Hmm,” Amanda said finally. “I think I may have the solution.”
Johnny felt hope surge though he had no idea what she was about to say.
“Maybe,” she said slowly, “maybe what you are is bi. I’ve gotta tell you, though. I had you pegged for gay from the minute I saw you in the library. You’re just too fucking good-looking to be straight, you know?” She laughed but her smile fell away at Johnny’s tortured expression. “Seriously, I never get that sexual predator vibe from you that I get from most straight guys. I never felt for a second like you were just being nice to me so you could get into my pants.” When Johnny didn’t answer, she tilted her head quizzically to one side, smiling again. “Or bi. We can call it bi if that’s easier to handle at first. ‘Cause I can see this is all news to you.”
Johnny felt as if he’d been sucker punched. He almost doubled over from the sensation. Yet at the same time a part of him, the secret part his father and his upbringing and a lifetime of denial had not succeeded in crushing, was drawn to her words.
Still he felt compelled once again to deny what he himself had never dared to say aloud. “Amanda. I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never been with— I’ve never thought of,” he stammered, his eyes filling with tears. Gay! The truth of her words just about knocked him over. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath and he felt dizzy. He continued trying to deny what she had said with his lips and with his brain, but his heart knew.
It knew she was right.
A lump rose in his throat and there was a painful heat just behind his eyes. All at once Johnny started to cry, hiding his face in his hands, his sobs shown only by the silent shaking of his shoulders. Amanda was next to him in a flash, wrapping her arms around him, crooning softly to him.
“It’s okay, sweetie. I had no idea you were so clueless about this. I just figured you were very private, is all. I respected that. I didn’t know you were keeping this huge secret from yourself. I know what that’s like, baby. I do. I do. You aren’t alone, if that makes you feel better. Lots of people try to deny basic parts of themselves. It’s okay, I swear, it’s okay.”
She smoothed his hair back from his hot, tear-stained face. Still he cried, but it was softer now, less ragged, the pain easing. Amanda continued to speak in a soft, low voice, like a mother calming her baby. “Listen,” she said earnestly, “this is really exciting. This is like your awakening. Your first taste of freedom. You’ve been held down, wound so tight by your own fear and repression. But that can end now. Don’t you see? You’re free! Your whole life is about to begin. You’ve been waiting in the wings, J.
You’ve been waiting to start living. Now you can.
“And I’ll be here, buddy. You aren’t the first guy to realize a little late you like guys, trust me on this. Shit, there are guys who get married and raise a family before they finally get with the program.” She laughed and Johnny sat back, wiping his eyes, feeling embarrassed as he grinned weakly back at her.
“It’s okay. Honestly it is, J. You do know that, right? A person’s sexual orientation is just a part of who they are. It doesn’t have to define you—it’s just part of the unique wonderfulness that is you. I love you, Johnny. Besides Marlon, you’re the best pal I ever had. You’ve never judged me or made me feel stupid for being a bit, uh, eccentric.” She tugged at her lip piercing and then traced the line of the snake coiling in bright blues and reds along her upper arm.
“I realize this is kind of a shock to you. I’m always amazed at our own powers of self-deception, and it looks like you’ve done a serious number on yourself, J. I bet you feel like you’ve run a marathon or something.” Johnny nodded, leaning back into the couch, running his hands through his hair. He still didn’t speak, though in fairness, Amanda wasn’t giving him much of a chance to get a word in edgewise.
She stood and began pacing the room. “You’re taking me back, you know. Remember I said when I was seventeen I didn’t know I was gay yet? Then I said I kind of did? Well, I figured it out in a big way when I turned eighteen.”
Amanda poured herself another drink and flopped down in the beanbag chair set perpendicular to the couch. Whether she knew it or not, focusing on herself and giving him some time to absorb what had just transpired was the best thing she could have done for her friend. He was silently grateful as she prattled on.
“Her name was Anne. Anne Childs.” Amanda sighed and stared out the window. “I fell in love with her the second I laid eyes on her. We were both working at this dude ranch in Pennsylvania for the summer. She was grooming this beautiful horse I later found out was named Tango. Her head was bent over his mane in such a way her long, blonde hair seemed to blend in with his silvery mane.
Golden Boy Two-Volume Set Page 3