“Sounds idealistic,” Hunter said. “So, did you find him?”
“I did.”
“Sandy?”
“No, no, Hunter. You still don’t get it, do you?”
He shrugged, indifferent. “Guess not.”
“What I learned on my summer vacation was finally how to love myself.”
With that, Jake Westbury and Hunter Abbott said a final farewell, a parting kiss laced with a taste some would call bittersweet. But Jake couldn’t help himself, during the kiss he gave Hunter’s furry chest one last grope, and then, as they parted, they managed to ruefully smile at one another. They had met as strangers, come together as lovers, parted now, it seemed, as friends. Before long, Jake had made his way through the terminal and to his gate, and finally on board his Virgin Atlantic flight to New York’s JFK.
Next stop, home, where Jake couldn’t wait to see his friends. To hear about Matthew’s fabulous love affair with Paris, about Freddie’s slutty sojourn in Rome. And finally, to tell them both all about his lustful longing in London. He would buy the first round; heck, he could afford all the rounds.
* * *
Somehow New York City seemed larger, the avenues wider, the buildings taller, the teeming crowds, even on this holiday weekend, thicker, moving at an even faster pace. Night had fallen on this Sunday night before the Labor Day holiday. His flight had landed about 24 hours ago, and though he had yet to speak with his friends, they had all sent each other texts about meeting up.
“Gaslight. Nine o’clock. See you then,” Freddie had said. “Bringing someone.”
“Right. Gaslight, 9:00,” Matthew had said. “Can’t wait for you to meet my love.”
Jake confirmed with both, said nothing about whether he would be with someone.
Gaslight was still around, thankfully. Sure it had only been three months since Jake had last been here, but bars and restaurants came and went in New York with regularity, so it was nice to see his favorite haunt still open for business. The lights were dim, the crowd thin. And he didn’t just mean gym-thin, there were only about a dozen guys in the bar. The music blared, a bit too loud considering the small crowd gathered. How could anyone carry on a conversation? Perhaps Jake could suggest a quiet restaurant for them to all go to. No, Gaslight was where their crazy adventure had begun, and it was here it would end.
Jake grabbed a beer, made his way to the familiar back booth, sat down by himself to wait for his friends. He grabbed his cell phone, no longer referring to it as his “mobile,” read through those texts again. So Freddie has met someone and not only that, he’d returned to New York with him. Aside from that, Jake knew nothing about who this man was, only that Freddie had met him in Rome. Matthew had met someone, too, and apparently it was serious, he’d used the word love. Jake felt happy for his friends and was determined not to be disappointed by the fact he’d returned empty handed, empty hearted. He was finally comfortable with all that had happened with Erich and with Nevil, with Yu, with Hunter and with Sandy, as though the long flight had cured him of all that ailed him.
Jake downed the remainder of his first beer, decided to grab another while he waited. He headed up to the bar and grabbed for his wallet to pay. His wallet, however, was nowhere to be found. Shit, he thought. That can’t be—he’d just had it, how else had he paid for that first beer? He looked around the floor where he was standing but saw nothing. He asked the bartender if someone had turned in a wallet.
“Sorry, Jake, nothing.”
“Shit,” he said.
The bartender, a hunky guy with tattoos, handed Jake a fresh beer and a surprise shot of tequila. “On the house, looks like you’ll need it if you lost your wallet.”
“For more than just financial reasons,” Jake said. “Thanks, Bud.”
He knocked the shot back before taking his beer back to his booth. What to do, what to do…how had this happened a second time? So organized, so carefully controlled was his life, and yet in the span on three months he’d lost his passport and now his wallet. Would he be as lucky the second time as he was when Erich had retrieved his wallet at JFK? And how ironic, he had all this newfound money hidden in some offshore account, but here in New York he couldn’t afford a beer.
About to phone Freddie to say he had to leave so he could get on the phone and start canceling his credit cards, a shadow crossed over the table. Jake looked up to find a young looking guy standing over him, and in his hands was Jake’s wayward, leather wallet.
“Oh thank God,” Jake said, exhaling heavily.
“Sorry it took me so long to get this back to you,” the guy said, handing the wallet back. “Place is so dark, I could barely see you sitting back here. Found it by the bar. The bartender sent me your way, but still I couldn’t be sure this was you. You look different with the goatee.”
This again?
“Thanks, I really appreciate it…”
“Aaron,” the guy said, extending his hand.
“Jake. Again, thanks. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Is this a thank you, or because you want to buy me a drink?”
Ah, it was good to be back in New York, the aggressive, ambitious pick-up lines of the knowing, winding Manhattan gays. Jake smiled, laughed, finally letting his eyes and brain focus on something other than his wallet. He drank in Aaron’s appearance in a more cruise-like way, and what he saw was real nice. He was about 5’9”, had a nice build and dark brown hair. His face was cute, tan, highlighted by a full beard. He wore shorts and a white, button down shirt, open two buttons. And wouldn’t luck have it, a nice exposed triangle of fluffy chest hair. It was like temptation had found him, deciding to tease him, test him. “As a thank you. Though under different circumstances, yeah, maybe I would have asked you if I’d seen you at the bar.”
Aaron smiled. “Can I sit?”
“Sure,” Jake said. “I’ll be right back. What are you having?”
A beer, he said, what you’re having. Jake grabbed the order, left a really good tip for Bud. He stole a look at the entrance, saw no sign of Freddie or Matt. They were late, but that was suddenly just fine with Jake. Back at the booth, he slid in and the two men raised their bottles in toast. As they set their drinks down, they both realized they were staring at each other.
“So, Jake, I’ve never seen you here before,” Aaron said.
“I could say the same. I’m usually here once a week, sometimes more depending on…stuff, but I’ve been away all summer. I left just before Memorial Day.”
“Funny. I arrived in the city just after Memorial Day, my company transferred me from Chicago. My apartment is nearby, and one day I just stumbled upon Gaslight. I like that it’s not like some of the other gay bars. No pretense. No attitude.” He paused. “So, do you mind if I ask if you’re seeing anyone?”
“I don’t mind you asking. No, no attachments.”
“Would you like to go out sometime?”
“You mean…a date?”
He nodded. “I don’t do one-night stands, strict policy of mine,” Aaron stated. “You’re handsome and you seem nice...you know, genuine. So yeah, I guess I mean a date. Dinner, a movie, see how things go. I’m the new guy in town, so it’s your call what to do.”
“Yeah, I’d like that, Aaron. God, I can’t remember the last time I went out on a real date. Sometimes it seems the gay life, we don’t do that. It’s just hop in the bed, as though sex is the main component of the relationship, not the complement.”
“Great.”
“Great.”
They exchanged numbers, putting them into their cell phones and then calling each other, just to make sure real ones were given. They both laughed at their obvious paranoia, no doubt Aaron had experienced such a thing, and Jake knew he certainly had. As Jake was finishing his beer, he looked again at the door. Still no Freddie. No Matt. He checked his phone for the time.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something? Are you waiting for someone?”
“I am, but it’s not what you
think. Not a date, definitely not a date.”
So Jake found himself explaining to his new friend about Freddie and Matthew and their trips abroad and then he told him a bit about his own recent trip to London. “None of us talked to each other all summer, so I really have no idea how these last months went. I can’t wait to hear, and to tell them about London.”
“Well, I should probably go then,” Aaron said, draining the last of his drink and getting up from his seat.
Just then Jake realized he didn’t want Aaron to go. “Wait, why not stay? Like you said, you’re new in town, here’s a chance for you to meet some great new friends.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Jake said, “but since they’ll be here any second, why not sit next to me.”
So Aaron slid in next to him, and Jake could already feel the heat building between them. It felt nice, anticipation looming between them. But they would resist any urges. Jake would call him and they would go out on a date, and then another and many more, and sometime or other, when the moment was right and their eyes locked and they both knew they were working on something great, something special, they would give themselves to each other, body, soul, heart. But that didn’t mean Jake couldn’t get the ball rolling tonight.
“I like your chest,” he said, giving the thick hair a quick feel, “hmm, nice, really hairy.”
Aaron reddened, but then quickly recovered. The dance had begun. “Oh, yeah, Jake, I’m plenty hairy, and I love guys who love it. There’s lots more where all this came from.”
Now where had he heard that exchange of dialogue before?
Just then the door to Gaslight opened, and Jake looked up to see two men enter the bar. A smile broke out on his face as he recognized one of them. Freddie Markson was making his way toward the bar, and at his side was perhaps one of the most striking, gorgeous men Jake had ever seen. Impressive, Freddie. Both men were drenched in wide smiles, obviously madly in love with each other. Wait, Freddie, hopeless cynic, had fallen in love? Before either friend could embrace the other, Jake’s cell phone rang, the caller I.D. indicating, “Matthew Donovan.” Jake answered it, was told to put it on speakerphone.
“Hey, guys, sorry I can’t be there in person. I’m still in Paris. Believe it or not, I live here now. Say hello to Anton, the painter I met and fell in love with in Paris.”
“Hey Matt, Freddie just got here, and with him is…”
“Santo,” Freddie said. “My Italian stud, who makes me feel like I’ve never felt before.”
Jake’s mind was swirling. Freddie in love, Matt living in Paris. How had his friends met these wonderful men who made them so happy? He couldn’t wait to know the details, but for now, just seeing the look of love on Freddie’s face, the sound of devotion in Matt’s, it was all Jake could do but feel his own heart swell. The entire trip had been his idea, his crazy notion to fall in love. And yet look at how his friends had turned the tables on him. He couldn’t be happier for them.
“And Jake,” Freddie asked, “Who is this handsome package sitting beside you?”
“Oh, sorry, this is Aaron,” Jake said. “Aaron, meet Freddie and Santo, fresh off the plane from Rome, and on the phone all the way from Paris…meet Matt and Anton.”
They all welcomed Aaron to their group.
“So, Aaron,” Matt asked over the speakerphone, “how did you and Jake meet?”
“Yes, do tell. I want every dirty detail,” Freddie said.
Aaron looked at a loss for words, so Jake just jumped in and said, “Actually, you’ll never believe it, but I found Aaron real close to home.”
If you liked English Lads, read the story that started it all
Passport to a Fling,
https://riverdaleavebooks.com/books/5130/passport-to-a-fling
About the Author
ADAM CARPENTER is the #1 best-selling author of many gay erotic romance titles. His “European Flings” series begins with the short story PASSPORT TO A FLING, followed by the full-length novels FRENCH MEN, ITALIAN GUYS, and ENGLISH LADS.
Adam's sexy, soapy new trilogy begins with EDEN'S PAST, followed by EDEN'S PRESENT and the soon-to-be-released finale, EDEN'S FUTURE.
His “White Pine” firefighter novels include SECRET FLAMES, HEAT OF THE MOMENT, A RAGING FIRE, and BURNING TRUTH.
His “Wonderland” trilogy, co-written with Curtis C. Comer and Jeff Wilcox, are, in order: DESPERATE HUSBANDS, DESPERATE LOVERS, and DESPERATE ENEMIES.
Among his other novels are DUDE RANCH, the White Pine-spin-off THAT PASSIONATE SEASON, SUMMER'S CHOICE, its spin-off, ISLAND DESIRES, and HIDDEN IDENTITY, the first in a new detective series featuring Jimmy McSwain.
Visit him at www.adamcarpenterbooks.com for more information.
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