“Allen told me that you left a pretty generous tip,” I said, smiling as I felt myself relax just a little.
“Who?”
“Allen,” I replied, “the bartender. Forty percent is pretty generous, I want to thank you for that.”
“Right,” he said, looking down, nervously fidgeting with his phone, “sorry about not tipping you personally, but I didn’t want to anger my girlfriend by walking over and sitting in front of you.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I said, “the bartender’s splitting the tip with me, so you actually did tip me.”
“Oh,” he replied with a smile as his face lit up.
It was the most attractive, appealing smile I had ever seen, and I couldn’t help but return the gesture. I had always heard that it was a part of human nature to automatically smile when another person smiles at you, and it was never more apparent than it was in that moment.
Nodding my head, I added, “But I wouldn’t have minded if you came over and gave me a tip personally. That’s how most of our customers prefer to do it.”
He chuckled and said, “I can see that. I don’t think Kelly would have liked it though.”
“She keeps a watchful eye?”
His smile turned into a frown and he answered, “Something like that. I doubt she would have found it amusing if I came over and slipped money in your underwear.”
I was surprised to see that he was comfortable joking around. Something about his demeanor before had indicated that he might be a little stiff, but I was beginning to wonder if that was just a result of having Kelly nearby.
“Well,” I replied, trying to be witty, “then maybe she shouldn’t have brought you to this kind of bar.”
“She didn’t,” he replied, looking back up into my eyes. “I mean, she didn’t tell us she was going to. I think it was her idea of a joke, having a fake bridal shower here.”
Looking down at the ground, I avoided his gaze as I wasn’t thrilled about hearing my bar referred to as a joke.
“I hope that didn’t come across the wrong way,” he said, obviously realizing what he had just implied. “To be honest, I’m glad she did.”
“Oh?” I asked, looking over at Allen as he watched the two of us talk.
Allen had always been protective over me, and I knew he was watching my every move. Even though we had security men positioned just outside the front door, he always kept an eye on it. Part of it was protectiveness and the other part – I knew – was desire.
Sometimes Allen would have a few too many drinks, and confess that he wanted to spend more time with me outside The Warehouse. Not that I minded his flirtation, but I wasn’t exactly interested in anything too serious. I was fine with a perfectly sexual relationship, and he and I had indulged in that quite a few times, along with the other guys who worked in the bar.
Looking at Clint before me, I wondered what he might think of my opinions and outlooks on sex. I had never been a traditional guy, and I wasn’t sure if monogamy was the right avenue for me in the long run. At least for now, I knew it wasn’t on my agenda.
“We would have stayed, but Kelly decided to leave and go somewhere else.”
“After only thirty minutes?” I asked. “She must keep you on a short leash.”
“You can say that again,” he said, looking around at the empty space surrounding us. “To be honest, we’ve only been together for about two weeks now.”
“Oh,” I said, sensing that he wasn’t happy with the relationship. “That’s not a very long time.”
“No,” he replied, “but it’s long enough for someone’s true colors to start showing.”
Gesturing toward the table where they had been sitting, I asked, “Would you like to sit and talk for a minute?”
Looking back toward the door, he checked to see if any members of his party were still standing nearby. I could tell that he was nervous, so I pointed to a more secluded area off to the side of where we were standing.
“There’s a more private area over there,” I said, calling his attention to the chairs which were casually strewn about. “You can see who comes in the front door, but they can’t see you until they walk back here.”
I figured he might feel slightly more comfortable knowing that no one would be able to walk in and catch him talking to a nearly-naked guy in his underwear. Clint nodded his head, and we both walked over to two empty chairs.
“So,” I began as we sat, “true colors, huh?”
As I sat, the muscles in my thighs bulged and I watched as Clint’s eyes unapologetically wandered down toward them. If he had seemed shy before, it was slowly dissipating now. Maybe it was the beer he had consumed, or maybe it was the fact that no one was around to watch him openly ogle me.
“What?” he asked, obviously confused by what I had just said.
“You mentioned that her true colors were starting to show.”
“That’s an understatement,” he said with a sigh.
“Looks like you could use another beer,” I said, gesturing over at Allen and trying my best to signal that we wanted a beer.
Raising a pretend glass to my lips, Allen finally got the idea and pulled out two bottles of beer. Walking over toward us, he pulled out his bottle opener and popped each one open, handing one to me and one to Clint. There was an angry look in Allen’s eyes, and I began to wonder if his feelings for me had secretly been starting to grow.
It seemed as though he was mad about me having a simple conversation with a sexy, good-looking guy, and I began to ask myself if he and I might need to have a talk about it. As he turned to walk away, I was distracted from the unpleasant thoughts by looking at Clint’s gorgeous face.
It was as if every bone is his face was perfectly aligned. His face was like something you’d see in an advertisement for a luxury denim company; masculine and demanding, yet stunningly beautiful.
He lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a huge sip before saying, “Three weeks seems to be the cutoff.”
“The cutoff?” I asked, taking a sip of beer myself.
“That seems to be the point where someone feels comfortable dropping their act. You know, the act where they pretend to be someone they’re not. I’ve learned, through dating, that three weeks is usually the point where they feel comfortable letting go of that and showing their true colors.”
“Ouch,” I said. “I can feel your pain.”
“Oh?” he asked, raising the bottle to his lips again. “Do you agree? Has that happened with any of the guys you’ve dated? I mean…” he added, his voice trailing off, “I don’t mean to assume you date guys.”
“Well,” I replied with a smile, trying to assure him that he shouldn’t be nervous, “you’re half right. I am only interested in guys, but I don’t date very much.”
“Why’s that?” he asked. “I mean, if it’s not too personal.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his question, and I nodded my head toward the door as I asked, “The answer to that question depends on how much time you have to listen. Don’t you think Kelly will be waiting for you?”
He nodded his head as he frowned and answered, “Yes, I do think she’ll be waiting for me. She said they were going to another bar nearby, but I’d be willing to bet that she’ll come looking for me if I don’t show up soon enough.”
“Now I’m convinced that she’s got you by the balls.”
“You can say that again,” he replied, lifting the bottle to his mouth and drinking at least half of it. “I took off work tomorrow because I thought we were going to have a fun night, but I think it’ll just be more of her giggling with her friends all evening.”
“What kind of work do you do?” I asked.
“I’m a personal trainer at Rock Fitness on Third Avenue,” he answered.
Looking down at his body, I knew I should have guessed that he was a trainer. He was perfectly sculpted from head to toe, and there was no way anyone could achieve that kind of physique without doing it professionally.<
br />
Actually, I thought as I looked down at my own body, you’re not looking too bad yourself.
“That’s pretty awesome,” I replied.
“Thanks,” Clint said with a warm smile. “What do you do?”
As soon as he asked the question, he realized that it was silly. Looking around at the bar, I gestured widely as I indicated The Warehouse in all its glory.
“Sorry,” he said. “I know what you do, I just meant…”
“I understand,” I replied. “I call myself a dancer.”
“I like that,” he replied. “And to be honest, I think it’s pretty cool.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “you get to hang out and have fun all night, and get paid to do it.”
“I have no complaints about the pay,” I said. “I’m hoping to make six figures this year.”
He laughed and said, “Looks like I’m in the wrong line of work.”
“Maybe so!” I exclaimed, teasing him a little to see what he would do. “I think you’d be perfect for this job.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, looking around at the customers who were waiting at the bar.
Greg had walked out of the locker room and hopped back on the bar, and he was dancing around for everyone to see. Pulling his underwear lower and lower, Clint and I watched as he teased every man there.
“Yeah,” I replied confidently. “You’re incredibly sexy, you’ve got a great body. You’d make a killing working here.”
“If I had to guess,” he replied with a joking smile, “I’d guess that Kelly wouldn’t like that very much.”
“Ah,” I said, “Kelly again. If you’ve only been together for two weeks, how committed are you to this relationship?”
As soon as I asked the question, I realized that it was probably too personal since we had just met. He didn’t flinch as he raised the bottle to his lips and downed the rest of his beer in one gulp.
“Not sure yet,” he said. “Not sure yet.”
I could hear the tone in his voice which indicated that he was probably already sure, but he didn’t want to admit it to himself. I desperately wanted to tell him that he should kick her to the curb if she was going to try to control his life, but I knew it wasn’t my place.
“Have you ever worked with a personal train before?” Clint asked, obviously trying to change the subject.
“I have not,” I answered, “but I’ve always wanted to.”
“Well,” he replied with a smile, “I just assumed that – with a body like yours – you were either a fitness professional or you had at least worked with one.”
Despite constantly receiving feedback – whether I wanted it or not – on my body from customers at the bar, I was immediately flattered by Clint’s compliment. I hadn’t ever had a personal trainer compliment my physique and, standing before him in my underwear, I was glad I had taken the time to do a few extra workouts the week before.
“Thanks,” I replied, as if I had never accepted a compliment before.
“You should come by the gym sometime, it’s not too far from here. I could show you a few new techniques.”
I bet you could, I thought, trying to suppress my cock which was starting to grow hard again.
Looking down at it, I could see that Clint – like everyone else who saw my dick – was impressed with its size. I casually lowered my hands down and rested them on my hips before turning around and slighting raising my ass in the air.
Deciding to tease him, I said, “I’ve been wanting to learn how to make my ass a little bigger, maybe you could give me a few pointers.”
As he stared at my ass, I could tell he was trying to think of what to say, and after a few moments of tense silence, he mumbled, “Squats.”
“What?” I asked, as if I hadn’t heard him.
“For that you’ll need…squats.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said, as if I didn’t already know that.
Still, I wasn’t sure if he was looking to see me again, or just had a new client. I had just told him that I make great money working at The Warehouse, so it was possible that he saw a few dollar signs in me. Several personal training sessions per week – at a high price – was enough to make anyone want to sign on a new client.
“Well,” he began, trying to shift the conversation away from my ass, “I should probably get going. How about I give you my number and you can hit me up if you ever want to take me up on that offer for some training?”
I thought I’d try to be clever and figure out if he was looking for a new client by asking how much his rates were, that way I could learn his true intentions by his answer.
“How much do you normally charge for a session?”
“Well,” he began, and I knew I was going to hear an answer I didn’t like, “the place I work for is corporate, so they set our rates, but I’m sure we could work out a special deal.”
Special deal, I thought, trying my best not to smile. I have no idea if that means he’ll give me a discounted price or work with me for free.
“I see,” I replied, unsure of what else to say.
Pulling a card out of his pocket, he reached over and handed it to me. “My number is there, send me a text so I’ll have yours.”
He turned abruptly and began to walk toward the door. I was surprised that the conversation hadn’t lasted longer, but I got the impression that he had suddenly become very nervous about Kelly possibly looking for him. She seemed like the type who kept her eyes peeled for anything unusual, so I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had barged back into the bar looking for him.
I quickly walked over to the bar and grabbed my phone – which I kept hidden behind a few boxes – before typing in his number and sending him a text which simply read: Nicholas. Now he had my number and could call or text me on his own terms.
Still, I waited to see if he would turn around and take another look at me before leaving. Greg was still dancing on the bar, and I thought Clint might stare at him as he walked out. To my surprise and delight, Clint walked right past him toward the front door before turning and looking back at me once more.
I smiled and nodded my head, knowing that it wouldn’t be the last time I’d see Clint. Looking down at his card, I read the professional font and figured I’d message him the next day to talk about a session. As I glanced back up, I saw that he was still standing at the door, gazing back at me as if he wanted to walk back over, but knowing that it was in his best interest to scurry off and find his girlfriend.
5
Sitting on my couch, I looked around and frowned as I realized that I needed a bigger apartment. I had been wanting to pace back and forth for a while, but the cramped quarters I lived in did not allow for such a thing. My nervousness had overtaken me, and I had been staring at my phone for at least two hours, waiting to receive a text message from Clint. For some reason, I didn’t want to text him first as I figured it would be best to let him show interest.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment I felt over being so anxious about Clint. No other guy in a long while had made me feel that way, but I didn’t want to come on strong and annoy him by texting first.
Stop overthinking it, I thought, standing up to walk toward my phone on the table before deciding not to.
Finally, just as I began to sit back into my comfortable position on the couch, I heard it ringing and I leapt to my feet to see if it was Clint. Unfortunately, the caller ID indicated that it was Greg, and my heart skipped a beat.
Damn.
“Hello?” I asked impatiently, wondering why he was calling me so early.
It was, however, already two o’clock in the afternoon, but that was considered early by the standards of men who danced in a bar at night. Looking out the window, I awaited Greg’s reply as I squinted at the sunlight peering through the blinds.
“Good morning sunshine,” Greg said, causing me to pull the phone back from my ear and look at it with disgust as if he could see me
. “How are you feeling today?”
“Sunshine?” I asked sarcastically. “Besides, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon, Greg; I’d hardly call that morning.”
“You know what I mean,” he quipped. “Did you just wake up?”
“No,” I replied, “I’ve been up for a couple of hours already. I couldn’t sleep for some reason last night.”
“I have no idea why,” Greg said, as I heard the sounds of dishes clanking in the background of his apartment. “You barely had any fun with us last night; what was up with that?”
I didn’t want to tell Greg that I had wanted to spend the night alone, as I didn’t want to seem antisocial. After talking to Clint, I had gone into a strange psychological state of not wanting to be around any other guys.
“I was tired,” I lied, walking into the kitchen to pour myself another cup of coffee.
“That’s not like you,” he replied. “Plus, you really missed out. We had some great afterhours fun.”
“Well,” I said, trying to change the subject, “I’m going to try to get into the gym today, maybe do an extra workout.”
“Oh,” Greg replied, “maybe I’ll join you.”
“No,” I replied, trying to think of the best way to tell him that I wanted to be alone. “That’s okay, I’d like to fly solo today.”
“What’s going on with you, Nic?” he asked, calling me by the abbreviated version of my name.
He knew I didn’t like being called that, and that was probably why he did it so often.
“Nothing!” I replied, but the defensive tone in my voice did nothing to convince him.
“Uh-huh,” he said, and I could practically hear his eyes rolling through the phone. “If you don’t want to tell me what it is, that’s fine, but don’t lie and say it’s nothing.”
“I’ve just been thinking about Clint,” I replied, realizing how ridiculous it sounded since I had just met him the day before.
“Stop it,” Greg said with a laugh. “I knew you were going to say that! I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt and hope that wouldn’t be your answer.”
The Warehouse Page 5