I tilted my chair back on Lucky's patio, cigarette between my fingers and my boot resting on the chair in front of me. My third cigarette of the night. I probably looked bored. Seductive. At least I hoped so. It was a look I had spent the last five years perfecting.
Looking around, I saw the exact same people doing the exact same things they did when I started coming here.
Taking a drag, I looked around the bar.
There was Jeff, my bartender, who served drinks far too weak unless he liked you. Then he made them extra strong.
I inhaled again.
Mark, my partner in crime. Walking around, talking to each person like he was the mayor of seedy establishments. Perfect at hiding all the things he did for money. Not like I was a saint. But he took it to another level.
Taking a sip of bourbon.
Finn was probably finding some new boy around here to shower with attention and then never talk to again.
Pinky, lip-syncing like she was trying to pay rent. Still bragging about the one time she won Ms. Halstead in 2019 and how Covid took her chance at stardom.
All around me. All predictable.
Looking around the bar, I saw the type I was looking for. Older, average, and horny. He was nestled up to the bar, half watching Shakira shake her hips on the video wall and the other half watching me.
I gave a slight smile then looked away, finishing my cigarette. Then walked to the bar, pretending I didn't feel him watching each step.
Jeff was cleaning the bar.
"Hey, Dylan."
"Hey, Jeff. Where is Mark?"
"He was talking to a new friend. Should be in his spot soon, I'd imagine. What will you have?"
I looked over at the man. Gave him another smile, then back to Jeff.
"Give me a minute."
I could hear him laugh under his breath knowingly as he went back to work wiping down the counter.
I waited for the guy to look over at me before raising an eyebrow. The one with the now classic slit in it. Then winked at him before he walked over.
Let's see. I need to pay Mark.
I lifted my arm behind my back to show a little skin. The guy no longer looking at my eyes. Typical.
Drinks will be covered but I don't have a connection at the bathhouse.
I reached under my shirt, lifting it up to show more flesh and expose my happy trail.
That should cover it.
The man walked over.
"Hey, can I buy you a drink?"
Bingo.
"Yeah, wow. That is so unexpected. Never had a guy buy me a drink before."
I could practically feel Jeff's head whiplash as those words slid out of my mouth.
"What would you like?"
"Gee... um... is it okay if I ask for a beer?"
"Sure you don't want something stronger?"
"I mean, like a Jell-O shot?" I said innocently.
I could hear Jeff laugh quietly. I wanted to throw a napkin, a coaster, a glass. Anything to shut him up.
"Drink what you want. You're really cute."
"What about an old fashioned. Like I like my men," I said with a wink.
"Bartender."
Jeff spun around, throwing the towel over his shoulder like we were on Cheers or something.
"Get my friend and me a double old fashioned."
"Right away. What kind of bourbon?"
"Woodford, if you want it."
"Wow. Thanks... um... sorry, what's your name?"
"Daniel. My friends call me Dan," he said, leaning against the bar.
Couldn't help noticing the ring there, Daniel.
"Thanks, Dan. So nice. And on pride."
I could see him checking every inch of my body out.
Normally, I wouldn't say no to him. But Mark told me never to shit where you eat. And I needed to feast to get through tonight.
"So where are you from?" he asked.
"Oh, from just outside Madison," I said, knowing I was born here in Chicago. "Just moved here last year. Are you from here?" I asked, side-eyeing him as Jeff dropped our drinks.
Taking a sip, I faced him. He smelled off. Like a Christmas tree left out in a summer rain, kinda off.
"I'm visiting from Kansas City."
Looking around the bar, I started to look for where Mark went.
"Oh, I hear they have the best BBQ around there," I said almost too quickly.
"We like to think so."
"You go out much in Chicago?"
"To Boystown? No. I don't really get out that much."
Motherfucking god, Jeff, I can hear your eyes rolling from there.
"Well, it is pride."
"Yeah, I can always put in a few more hours at work to cover it," I said softly into my drink. I moved toward him, pushing my body closer.
He rested a hand on my hip.
"Hey, a few of my friends are going to be at Roscoe's later. Think you can join us?"
"To Roscoe's?"
"Mmhmm."
"On pride night?"
"Yeah, is that a bad idea?"
"No." I looked down. "No. Just, there's a cover, so nah. Going to stay here, take it easy."
He reached into his wallet. What is it, like $20?
"More like $40."
"$40 for cover?"
"Yeah, it is insane," I said, putting my hand on top of his, rubbing the wedding ring.
"Wha, what?"
I moved my ear closer.
"What if I get your cover?" he said, reaching for his wallet.
"Shit, no, Dan. I couldn't. You already got me a drink." I raised my hands. "That wouldn't be right."
"Hey, don't sweat it. If you promise to meet me over there," he said, almost giving puppy dog eyes, "I'll cover your cover."
"No, no, no. I can stay here," I said, lowering my eyes to his chest, then to the bulge in his pants, licking my lips in feigned arousal.
"I insist. I don't mind at all."
He started to hand over the $40.
"Wait," I said, forcing him to stop. He looked at me, our lips only inches apart.
My friend. I can't leave him behind. Maybe he could join us?
I could feel Jeff staring at both of us. Watching.
Dan paused. Maybe I had pushed too much.
He studied me. Then looked at his wallet. Then back at me.
"Sure," he said. "Here's five twenties. Go grab him and meet us over there in about 30."
"Oh my god, Dan. Wow. That is so sweet," I said, taking the money before he changed his mind. "I gotta go find my friend and say we will be at Sidetrack..."
Roscoe's...
Roscoe's. Right! In 30 minutes.
I turned away trying to make my escape but bumped into a new one.
"Sunshine!" Pinky's voice, always performing for the bar.
I rolled my eyes.
"Please, I told you to stop calling me that."
"Then stop looking like somebody cancelled Christmas."
"You used to dance."
"I'm twenty-four, not eighty."
"I'm serious." She reached out fixing my hair and me pulling back.
"You used to stay until close. You used to make bad decisions. You used to laugh."
She looked away for a moment.
"I miss seeing that guy." She said it quietly. Almost to herself.
I faked a smile. "Well. Let me go find him right now."
"Where..."
"Sorry, Pinky, the night calls," I said, bowing to her.
I practically pranced across the bar, over the small empty dance floor toward the men's restroom.
I pushed open the bathroom door like I owned the place. It was empty in there, the club bass pounding. But that wasn't the only thing.
"Yeah. Mm. Yeah."
I could barely hear the words over the club music.
I knew those moans anywhere.
I laughed to myself and almost skipped as I rapped on the stall door.
"Mark?!" I called out.
"I'll be done... um... in... one minute."
I waited, hearing a rhythmic bumping against the stall door, growing faster as I tapped my foot.
Hurry up, Mark.
Then finally a loud moan, followed by silence. A toilet flush.
The stall door opened quickly and a large older man squeezed by me without making eye contact.
"Don't forget to leave us a review on Yelp," I called out before the door closed.
Mark slowly exited, adjusting his shorts and brushing his hair to the side with his hand. He gave me a knowing smile.
I handed him $20.
"Wow. Don't I feel like Chase Bank today?"
"It's for the cigs and the drink earlier."
"What was that?" I nodded toward the stall.
"Rent," he said, looking in the mirror.
We both walked out side by side.
"I don't know how you do it," I laughed.
"What? Take a $300 raw in a bar restroom?"
"Yeah, would take at least a handle of tequila." I spotted Dan sitting nervously at the bar. Maybe two.
Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of twenties.
"This does more for me to loosen up than a whole liquor store of tequila," he said, sounding satisfied with himself.
He tapped me on the chest. "Where to next? Roscoe's?"
"Uh... no," I said, pausing. "Let's go somewhere else."
Mark just laughed to himself.
We practically ran toward the front of the bar.
"Dylan, you are a fucking machine," Jeff called out from behind the bar before taking another order as the bar got more crowded.
"Tell me something I don't know, Jeff," I called back as we headed out the door and into our pride night.
Running across, we made our way past Liam, the burly doorman at Sidetrack, with a salt and pepper goatee and arms like tree trunks. He barely looked up before letting us sneak in, not charging cover.
I put my arm around Mark as we entered the main bar area. I could feel his sweat from his earlier...um...exercise on his shirt. He always had a way of smelling like coconut shampoo mixed with nutmeg and something sweet underneath.
We made our way to Chris, who had two frozen drinks ready for us before we even sat at the bar.
"Chris!" Mark called out.
Jeff may have been my bartender but Chris was Mark's.
And where Jeff was a tether I had to a conscience...
I watched as Chris shook Mark's hand, passing him a white substance in a bag.
Chris was not.
I looked at Mark's hand then at him. Then walked away with my drink. Some things I could handle. That was not one of them.
I took a strong sip of my drink.
"Hey Dylan, sorry about that."
"It's fine, Mark," I said, hissing.
"It's not. I'm sorry, I know..."
"Mark, you can fuck whomever you want for however much. I just don't want to see THAT."
"I know. I messed up, sorry," he said, raising his hands.
"Look, if it is about Lis..."
Without thinking I grabbed him by the shirt and pushed him against the post. Everyone around us looking to see what was going on.
Mark looked as shocked as I did.
I let him go, patting his chest and making a fake smile.
"You're fucking right it's about Lisa," I said, my finger pointing at his chest.
He just let it go.
He should. Right? It's pride and my dead junkie sister has no place hanging out with us.
I could feel an unwelcome wetness around my eyes. No one saw it but Mark and me.
He was the only one who had in a year.
"Dylan, I'm so sorry," he said, giving me a hug. "I promise after tonight..."
I nodded my head.
Mark had been my friend for as long as I had been going out. He was not only my best friend. He had my back for anything. Except this one rehearsed lie.
I started to walk away. A slight familiar ringing in my ear growing louder.
"Dylan..." Mark called out, grabbing my arm.
"It's fine, Mark," I said, smiling back. "I just need to go clear my head a bit."
Mark tried to follow me but knew it was best to just let me cool off. I wasn't going anywhere. He was the only family I had left.
I walked up the stairs, slamming down the rest of my drink and making my way up to the patio bar to grab another. Some people have told me that therapy helps. Walking up the stairs, the sound of the club softened to a ringing in my ear. I have other ways of dealing with life.
I moved to the bar and leaned against it looking around, waiting for another drink. I saw a guy across the bar, 35, balding without dignity, not too bad looking, decent body.
I nodded at him to come over.
Mark may have had his bad habits. But I had mine.
My first drink started hitting me as we both were making out in the club restroom. The black cold tile pressing up against my shoulders.
Making out with this guy. Not knowing his name used to feel like a new thing. But I had done it for years. What was funny was it used to be a rush. A thrill to do this in public. Maybe getting caught. Now I cared as much as I felt.
The guy I met at the bar was there visiting friends. Nice enough. Paid me a few compliments. I almost felt something for him before kissing him, arousing his lust.
He followed me. Or more my body, to the bathroom without hesitation. Leading him across the club, sure we got looks. None I hadn't seen before. Some wishing they were him. Some having pity.
All could go to hell.
His tongue was pushing around my mouth. I could taste rum and cherry mixed with a hint of something off.
As his mouth explored mine behind the stall door, I felt nothing worth finding. Instead, with each new touch and level of seduction, the less I felt. The more I needed to feel something.
As he kissed my neck, I could see my own eyes look back at me in the black tile.
Lost in thought as he undid my pants and lowered them to the ground. Why did this calm me down?
Pressing my hand up against the tile as I heard him spit on himself.
Then finally a bit of humanity as he thrust into me hard and deep. Sinking himself down all the way. The chill of the tile on my fingertips felt more intimate than the man inside me.
I finally thought I saw myself blink as he thrust in and out. Hitting something right but not having the same reaction it did the first hundred times I had done this.
My body may have let him slide in but something deep inside recoiled and wanted him out. That voice had lost all say in the matter.
As he held my hips, digging in deep as he thrust. This guy was nice to me at the bar. Pretended to want to get to know me. Just wanted to see how I felt.
He was going to leave a bruise. He didn't care. I barely cared. Just something to have to explain to the next guy.
His thrusting became almost clinical. Emotionless. His grunting growing louder as I stayed very still and let him finish.
He was sweating more and more. His moaning became foreign and asymmetrical in tone. Gross. At the same time I felt calmer than I had since getting here.
Fuck. At least Mark got paid for this.
I pressed my other hand on the tile. Trying to grip and finding nothing. Pushing my body harder down on his cock. Sending him over the edge.
I could feel him spasm a few times and then withdraw as quick as he entered.
Didn't even bother cleaning myself up. I could drip out the rest of the night. Feel the wetness mixed with my tenderness.
I put my pants on, not even looking back, and left him there to finish getting ready.
I got mine. He got his. Nothing else was needed.
Splashing some cold water on my face and straightening my hair. All felt better in the world.
"Hey, where did you go?" I heard Mark's voice as he wrapped his arm around my waist.
"Just had to go walk things off."
Mark gave me the look. The one he saved for when I disappeared.
"You good?"
"Great," I said, sliding some gum in my mouth and dancing with him on the dance floor. Dancing for hours, making out with nameless faces, rubbing against hot bodies without heads.
If this was Sodom.
What would dare put this to an end.
It was last call when we stumbled out of the club, my buzz long gone but the night still demanded more.
"Ready to go to Steamies?" Mark called out.
"Hell yeah, let's GOOOOO," I said, even though I hated his nickname for Steamworks.
Once inside, we had our system down. We wouldn't hunt together. That could scare off prospects. We would still check in every so often. If we saw one sitting on the couch, that usually meant they needed a break or had a good story to tell.
After breaking off, I walked around my designated path, tucking my key under the armband. Smelling myself to make sure I was putting my best foot forward. Not that anyone would care at this hour of night.
Part of me just wanted to go home but I had an image to upkeep.
I ran into some regulars, friends, hookups. It might as well have been a class reunion the way we could just make conversation. That night felt different.
I walked from one room to the other almost as if I were a sober zombie. I didn't know what I wanted. Just that I needed something.
Passing by rooms with doors open and someone stroking.
Someone ass up.
Two people making out.
A person in a sling being whipped.
Looking at the key on my arm, I wondered just how many times I had done each of those rooms. Wondering which of the countless rooms I had actually not used.
Nothing phased me. None of it shocking.
After 30 minutes, nothing. Not one hookup. This was my worst Steamworks drought since the Wicked midnight premiere at the AMC.
I made my way through a maze of bodies and finally saw a guy at the end who at least made me look twice. In the red haze of the maze, he was stroking his cock.
It was nice, thick. Bigger than anything I had taken in a while. I reached for it, feeling its length, and he let go. Letting me work his cock. Feeling each ridge and vein. It throbbing.
I could smell bourbon mixed with tequila on his breath. If he had a breath mint this could actually be hot.
As I stroked his cock his mouth nuzzled up to my neck. Kissing me. Nibbling on my ear before whispering.
"I missed you at Roscoe's."
My heart plummeted before I turned way too quickly to face him.
Dan looked different than he did hours ago. He was slumped over to the side slightly and was chewing his lips. His eyes dilated.
"Oh, hey Daniel. Dan," I said, trying to force a smile.
He mockingly smiled at me back, stumbling as he moved forward.
"Hey, we tried to...find you...but..."
He grabbed my hand much too hard. And pushed me forward.
"If you wanted the money, that's one thing, kid. But to make me think you were interested...that's fucked up."
"But...I'm here now, right?" I said, trying to get out of the situation. His hand turning harder on my wrist. Pressing up against my backside and lowering my towel.
"Yeah, because you are a lying slut. A fucking lying slut that embarrassed me."
I heard him lower his towel.
No...
I thought. I can't...
I closed my eyes.
His thick shaft started probing my backside.
Then I heard flesh cracking on flesh. Then a loud thud as Dan fell to the floor. Mark standing above him.
"YOU ASSHOLE, YOU PUNCHED MY FUCKING FACE," Dan yelled.
"Mark?" I said. "Where...how?" I said, stumbling back.
Mark tried to answer but made sure that Dan was out of commission.
"What is going on here?" a voice said, followed by a flashlight searching the room.
"HE PUNCHED ME," Dan said, no longer as strong as he was a few minutes ago.
The worker shone his light on Dan's face, then Mark's, and finally onto mine.
"He tried to attack my friend," Mark said, still keeping a barrier between me and Dan.
"I don't care who did what. You two are both out of here," he said, pointing to Dan and Mark.
"What about me?" I said, not knowing what I wanted to do.
"You look like you need to sit down. Don't make me regret this." He said and escorted them out.
Mark looked back like he wanted me to go with him. I was in a fog and couldn't find my bearings or my loyalty in that moment.
I walked to the back leather couch that had witnessed the fight. And a hundred acts that day that were more disturbing.
I sat down, sinking into the cushions. Not knowing where I belonged.
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