Gulliver Takes Five (22 page)

I turn back to Nick. So much money in those bracelets. So much love in his eyes.

“Bro,” Todd calls, “you coming?”

“Yes!” I yell to him. I then give Nick a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Looks like you made out pretty well tonight. Have a safe trip home.”

Despite going home a rich(er) boy, the expression on Nick’s face as he realizes what’s about to happen looks like he’s just lost everything.

Should I feel bad? I don’t, really. In the morning, Nick will return home to a loving family on Long Island, bagel spreads with cream cheese. His parents will ooh and aah as he counts out dollar after dollar, twenty after fifty after hundred, because he’s just that talented a dancer. Then they’ll probably roll one of those bills into a joint and all get high together.

Tonight, for at least one night, I’m going home without him. I’m sleeping with Todd DiTempto, New York’s hottest gay promoter, in every sense of the word. Is that a victory? Maybe. If nothing else, it makes me feel a tiny bit better about the lack of cash and bagels that will greet me tomorrow morning. There are at least two things in this world Nick’s family money can’t buy, and they are happiness and a night with Todd DiTempto.

Well, maybe that’s just one thing, after all. Because right now, I’m having a hard time remembering the last time I felt this pleased with myself.

To my dismay, Todd spends the entire cab ride fixated on his phone, which is precariously close to dying. No kissing. No heavy petting. Nothing. It’s like I’m not here, bumping up Eighth Avenue alongside him. I wonder if he’d even realize if I opened the door and stepped out at the next red light? Occasionally, his phone rings and he sends it straight to voice mail. He’s on Grindr, on Facebook, on Twitter. I take out my phone and click through some Facebook e-mail notifications to make myself look equally busy.

“Sorry,” he finally says about ten minutes into the ride. “My head’s somewhere else.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“Sorry.”

“Do you want to do this?” I ask. “We can pull over here, it’s fine. No hard feelings.”

Todd puts down his phone and stares at me. “Yes, Chase. I’m sure. You’re in the cab with me, going back to my place, aren’t you?”

“Oh, wow, you do actually know my name,” I say, laughing uncomfortably.

“You think I do this often? Bring my employees home with me?”

“Actually, it’s pretty common knowledge that the great Todd DiTempto doesn’t sleep with his colleagues.”

“Don’t call me ‘great.’ Please.” Todd shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Or I WILL ask you to leave. This idolization shit is a bit much for me tonight, bro.”

I have to laugh. “Wait, so you don’t like the fact that you’re a nightlife superstar?”

“Sometimes I do. Not tonight. Sometimes I want to be just another dude at the club, there for a drink or to get some ass. Nowadays, every boy up on my junk is there because I’ve got a pocketful of drink tickets or I’m their shot at getting a gig as a go-go boy, bartender, or DJ.”

“Right. Or maybe they’re after you because you’re ridiculously gorgeous.”

“All the wrong reasons, bro.”

“Then what’s the right reason? You looking for a boyfriend? ’Cause something tells me that wouldn’t be so hard to come by, either.”

“A boyfriend who doesn’t know who I am at night,” he says, looking out the window. “Someone who wants the real me, Todd DiAngelo, not my nightlife persona, Todd DiTempto. But that’s impossible.”

“Well, I AM somebody else too, Mr. DiAngelo, okay? I’m not just a go-go boy. I don’t wear a G-string 24/7. I have a life outside my nightlife too!” My outrage has at last claimed his full attention. “You’ve only ever known me as Friendly Spice, but that’s a
persona just like Todd DiTempto is. I don’t always like the guys who’ve got their hands all over me! But it’s a performance! You get on stage, you do what’s called for, you get paid, and you go home.

“I know a lot of people ask a lot of you, but I’ve never asked for anything, have I? So maybe you should give us a little more credit. Nightlife is nightlife; every single guy in there has a day life too. The promoters, the go-go boys, and every drunk gay average Joe. Even the Screwniversity boys—they have friends, and parents, and different names too.”

“I know they do,” Todd grumbles, his face very dark for a second. Then he regards me with cautious eyes. “A little pent up there, Chase?”

“Sorry. A lot of that stuff has been running through my head all night. I had a bad date.”

“Sounds that way.”

“It’s been a very long, very dramatic day,” I sigh.

He shrugs it off. “Whatever. This is getting way too serious. Tonight, I’m just looking to forget shit, bro. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

“Okay. Suggestion of topic?”

“How about we talk about Nick?”

I laugh again. “So you know his name too?”

“I know all your names, bro. Who do you think gets your checks printed at the end of the night?”

“Am I also allowed to request a change of subject?”

“Not as long as you’re on my payroll.” Todd laughs, rubbing my leg. “What’s your deal? He didn’t look too happy about you leaving with me.”

“It’s whatever,” I say, looking out the window at the passing diners and apartment buildings. “He has feelings for me. I don’t think they’re mutual.”

“They’re never mutual,” Todd muses. “That’s why we go out to bars and get sloshed and try to find the next best thing to take our mind off it. Fucking depressing, right?”

“Yeah, it sorta is, for me,” I say. “Not sure why it is for you, since it keeps you in business. If you hate nightlife so much, why are you a promoter?”

“I hate it, yeah,” Todd says. “But I love it too. I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“Actually, I think it makes perfect sense.” I laugh. “Sometimes I’d rather be absolutely anywhere else than up on that bar. Please don’t use that as grounds to fire me.”

Todd shakes his head, gestures for me to keep going. His phone lies facedown on his leg.

“Hearing those same songs and seeing those same people—every week—sometimes I think, ‘Hey! I’ll just quit and get a normal day job! I’m over this scene. Time to grow up.’ But then after three days away, I’m practically jumping out of my skin to get back up again.”

“It’s a drug, bro,” Todd says, tucking his phone in his pocket. “You think you can beat it, get it out of your bloodstream. But then after a few quiet nights home alone, you’re ready to go insane. Fuck it, man. Ridiculous.” He turns his attention to the driver. “Right up here, man. On the left, please.”

Todd swipes his credit card and leads me out to the street. It’s drizzling, which is a lot better than the Armageddon rainstorm that hit during my date earlier in the evening.

My heart sinks as I realize he’s leading me into a luxury apartment building. Is anyone in my life NOT filthy rich? Well, at least I’ll make gay nightlife history somewhere scenic. We take the elevator up in complete silence, both of our eyes focused on a television screen in the wall that forecasts a full weekend of unhappy rain clouds. New York City is going to drown us all.

Something doesn’t feel right here. Todd seems almost burdened by the fact that I’m trailing behind him. And I keep thinking,
I gave you no less than half a dozen opportunities to leave without me—so what are you doing, BRO?
But I can’t ask this question, because it’s awkward enough as it is. And obviously it doesn’t bother me too much, because here I am, crossing the threshold of his apartment. Someone is quietly snoring in the darkness.

“Don’t mind him,” Todd says. “That’s my slutty, fat-ass dog.” He turns on a light and points to a Scottish terrier splayed out on its back on a doggy bed by the window, legs kicking as it dreams.

“He’s so cute,” I whisper. “What’s his name?”

“Señor,” he says. “Don’t whisper for him. That whore would sleep through an earthquake. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ve had enough hooch for tonight. Can I get some water?”

“Sounds good to me, bro. Think I’ll do the same.” He disappears into the kitchen.

The apartment is gorgeous. A huge-screen TV, stereo speakers mounted all over the walls, an iPad charging by the black leather couch and sectional. A glass coffee table covered in large hardcover books. The place looks like it belongs to a thirty-something, not at all what you’d expect from a guy whose job is herding go-go boys and throwing dance parties.

Todd returns with two bottles of water, unscrewing the cap of one before he hands it to me.

“Nice place,” I say. “You make this much money in nightlife?”

“Fuck no! I wish,” he says. “Nightlife pays for my cable and utilities, if it’s a good month. I work in finance during the day. And during the night. All the time, really. Boring shit, but it pays the bills. Whatever. You can’t take it with you, right?”

“And I thought
I
needed more sleep.”

“It’s all I know how to do,” he says. “If I’m left with five seconds of spare time, I feel useless. Plus, I like buying shit.”

“Buying shit? I’m a fan of that too,” I say. “So, now that I’ve seen it, do you want me to go?”

“Are we still going on about this? If I didn’t want company, I wouldn’t have brought you here.” He kisses me on the mouth, rubbing his big hand on my chest. “I mean, I was close to leaving you behind when I saw your hair, but I figured I could put a baseball cap on you or something.”

I laugh. “It’ll be gone by tomorrow morning, I promise.”

“Good,” he says, putting an arm around my shoulder, kneading it with his hand. Our faces draw closer. Our lips connect. He kisses slowly, my bottom lip and then my top lip. Then faster. I guide his hand down to my pants, then inside. I’m already fully hard, waiting for him. Dripping. He likewise guides me down to his. And we’re off.

I’m shocked when I pull Todd’s dick out. It’s textbook average. Maybe six or so inches. Which isn’t a problem—but certainly not what I expected from someone who’s so above average everywhere else. It makes me feel better about my own shortcomings—not my size, but the fact that there is some semblance of justice in this world, if even this deity of gay nightlife is a mere mortal in some areas.

It doesn’t turn me off any. Clearly. I’m kissing him. I’m jerking him off. I’m moaning as he jerks me off.

“Fuck, you’re huge,” he says, falling to his knees in front of me to take me in his mouth. I’m glad the size doesn’t bother him. Glad I have something that excites him.

Fuck, his mouth feels awesome. It’s so weird, looking down at Todd as he sucks me off. This guy, for whom just about anyone would drop to their knees—HE’S dropping down for ME. Is it too much to say that I feel a bit like a god now myself? I’m so close to shooting, taking deep breaths to keep myself together, trying not to blow my load too quickly. Even if I do, it’ll be just the first of several rounds tonight.

As my mind wanders to keep me from losing it, I find myself thinking of Marty Brayden. The show must be over by now. It’s been over an hour since we left the club. On that stage in front of thousands, the blue-haired star of the Screwniversity has no doubt been fucked by each of his dorm mates. And now what? Back to his dorm? Some lucky one-night costar in tow?

Have a good night, Marty. I know I will.

Todd and I switch, and now I’m between his legs. I open my mouth wide to take him in, but he shifts himself away from me.

“Not a big fan of head, bro,” he says as not-awkwardly as he can. “Just jack me off.”

Someone who doesn’t like getting head? That’s a new one. Then again, in New York City, I’ve found that every gay guy has at least one strange tic in bed. They keep their socks on. Or they keep the lights on. Or they kiss with their eyes open. Or maybe they refuse
to look at you. Or they don’t like giving head. Or they want to get rimmed, but they won’t let you fuck them. I once hooked up with a guy who put a condom on before fingering me. Whatever, I can make do.

He’s moaning: “Oh fuck, bro. Oh fuck, I’m gonna shoot.”

I open my mouth again and lock down on him to catch every last drop, but he yanks my head forcefully off him. I try to get back on it again, but there’s his big hand, holding me off like a bully in a cartoon keeping some wimp at bay as he swings at the empty air. Todd jerks himself off and explodes all over himself. A sizable blast that reaches all the way up to his neck. Yet another above-average quality to tip the scales.

“Wow,” Todd exhales. “Wow.”

He looks done. Too bad we’re anything but done. That was just the appetizer. Here comes the main course.

“I want you to fuck me,” I tell him as I work my way back up to his face. We’re kissing as I jerk myself off and finally release all over him, adding my mess to the mix. “I want you to fuck me right now.”

“I do too,” he whispers, his eyes still heavy from his orgasm. “I really, really want to.”

“Then come on,” I say, wiggling out of my jeans and standing up. “Show me your bedroom.”

“Not tonight.”

If I got this far, I’m not about to give up that easily.

“Tomorrow morning, then?” I ask, throwing myself back on top of him. I grab his dick and push it toward my hole. “Well. You’re still hard. Might as well get it over with, if we both know what we want.” I feel it pressing, right up against me...

“Get the fuck off me!” Todd screams, flinging me off the couch. “What’s the fucking matter with you?”

I’m forced into silence, on my ass, on the floor, looking back at the heaving mass of Todd on the couch.

“What did I do?”

“You were about to put my dick in your ass.”

“I was just teasing. Jesus Christ. Freak out much?”

Todd buries his face in his hands, his dick now deflated and stuck to the mess on his belly. “Sorry, bro. Sorry.”

I don’t know what to say. He’s right. I got caught up in the moment. I can’t say for sure what would have happened if Todd hadn’t stopped me. But I want him bad enough that I might’ve let my guard down tonight. He must think I’m such a slut! Bare-backing my way all around town. When I’ve actually never done anything like that ever.

“Fine. So you don’t want to fuck me. I get it. Loud and clear.”

“No, Chase. I do. I really do.”