Negotiations 34
Hi, all! Happy pandemic... :(. I hope you guys are okay out there. ♥ Here's the next chapter and most of 35 is written, so please interrupt my self-isolating with feedback, lol. And the inevitable question...will COVID-19 feature in this story? Maybe, but I'm not tackling it right now. Go back to Negotiations 33 or start from the beginning.
NEGOTIATIONS 34
JUSTIN’S POV
Brian’s finger was tracing your collar and then trailing up and behind your ear while Eighty-Four was cuffed to a bondage board and penetrated with a grease gun by Josh. The sound Eighty-Four made when that circumference of steel was pushed inside him, fuck, you could feel it first in the pit of your stomach and then you felt your own ass opening like it was you on that platform. You looked up at Brian and kissed him on the chin, and that’s when you saw him: your distraction.
A man.
A young man.
Well, just a guy, basically.
He was leaning against the dungeon wall with one foot pressed against the cinder blocks, and you gave him a quick but critical once over to determine whether or not you knew him from anywhere.
You didn’t.
He was focused only on his phone with a very irritated expression on a devastatingly handsome face. Years with Brian have taught you how to size up a man in a gay sexual environment very discreetly and accurately. This guy was young, not even thirty and was, quite simply, the most perfect hipster specimen you’d ever laid eyes on. He was about five foot ten, fit, trim, white, with brown hair a bit warmer and lighter than Brian’s. It was very thick and purposely styled as was his beard. A quick calculation on his clothing and you knew his outfit and shoes cost at least five hundred dollars. (That’s another talent you honed from Brian. He uses it on clients to determine whether or not they can afford his services; you use it for ‘off label’ purposes.) This new kid, he reminds you of a sweeter, younger Jake Gyllenhaal.
He didn’t see you peeking at him because he was texting fiercely and visibly bothered. Brian misinterprets your head position to mean that you want more attention from him, but he’s very interested in the gang bang happening ten feet away. He squeezes your shoulder, “Don’t worry. I’ll take very good care of you tonight.”
You turn your head and try to focus on the debauchery happening in front of you. Eighty-Four appears to be having a wonderfully horrible experience. You feel a strange bond with him, maybe because you can tell he’s flying somewhere outside of his body, a fellow citizen of subspace.
You sit up a bit against Brian, and this time, turn your head and really look at your hipster hunk to see if he attempts to make eye contact. His phone's down, and his arms are crossed firmly across his chest. His jaw's set firm, and his eyes keep going back and forth between the EXIT signs on either side of the room. You stiffen a little and start to get nervous, a crazy idea that maybe he’s a terrorist...a homophobe….the bomb...at Babylon….
You tap on Brian’s shoulder and he sees your concerned expression and lowers his head so you can whisper to him, “I think there’s something up with the guy beside you.”
“I promise, I’ll fuck you immediately in the car when this is over.”
“Not me, dumb ass. I mean the actual guy standing next to you, on your left.” Brian starts to turn, and you chastise him, ”Be subtle.”
You start looking for fire alarms that you could pull if you needed to even though you could just as easily and effectively stand up and scream. When Brian turns and looks at your discovery, your discovery smiles at Brian. And in that one second smile, you relax. You know that smile. He’s attracted to Brian. He’s not a terrorist.
Whew.
“He looks fine to me,” Brian tells you.
“Well, a few minutes ago, he was pissed and texting like a mad man. He scared me.”
“You’re afraid of men texting?”
“He just was very not happy about something. Look at his body language. Something’s bothering him.”
Brian turns again, and this time when the kid looks at Brian, Brian doesn’t look away. Instead, he crooks his finger and the not-a-terrorist-after-all hipster walks three steps to the side of your love seat. Brian questions him in a way that you’ll appreciate more later, “Hi. Are you all right? My partner seems to think you’re--”
“I’m sorry if I disturbed you guys. I was supposed to meet someone here. He ghosted me, apparently.”
Ahhh, now I get his frustration.
“You can come sit next to us,” you offer, and Brian immediately gives you a look of disagreement that you pretend not to see.
“Are you sure?” your new friend asks.
“Sure.”
He walks over and you can smell his cologne as he sits next to you, and it’s not like any cologne that you smell on every man everywhere. It seems like it was made for him. It’s distinct but not overwhelming. Brian squeezes your shoulder like he wants your attention focused on the show and not the new guy, so the three of you sit quietly until the end when Eighty-Four finally is released from the bondage board, put on his back and fucked by Josh until he gets to come. Josh holds Matt’s cock and steers his load so it gets all over Matt’s face. Everyone immediately applauds; the rousing noise makes you jump in your seat.
As the crowd breaks up, your new friend apologizes again for interrupting the two of you, and you tell him, “It’s okay. I just thought...well...I mean, sometimes you never know people--”
“Tell me about it,” he bitches.
Brian puts his hand on your thigh, “Dave wants to talk to me for a minute, okay?” He gets up, his hand extended.
You don’t take the offer, Go ahead. I’ll be right there, okay?”
Brian looks at you intently and then at your new friend and then back at you before he leans forward, extending his hand to the unknown person next to you, “Brian Kinney. And you are?”
He shakes Brian’s hand; their arms passing in front of you, “My name is Dill. Nice to meet you.”
“Will?” Brian asks.
“Dill.”
“Like the pickle?” Brian scrutinizes.
“It’s a nickname. My last name is Dilworth. I go by Dill.”
Brian shrugs, “Hmm, very interesting,” and then turns to you, I’ll come back for you in a minute then.”
“Okay.” You turn to Dill, “I’m Justin.” And then you blurt out, “And we’re married,” pointing to the empty space Brian just occupied next to you.
“I see your rings,” Dill says, “How long?”
“Almost twenty years.”
Why am I just blurting out info to this guy?
Dill’s brow furrows, “There’s no way, unless you--”
“I’m older than I look.”
“Okay, I get it. Nice collar. I mean, it’s real, isn’t it?”
You start to feel nervous about answering all these collar questions, afraid that maybe someone will decide to kidnap you and steal it or something, but there’s no reason to lie to this guy because you are one hundred and ten percent certain that this kid comes from a lot of money. His level of personal grooming is astonishing. All of his fingernails are the exact same length, his eyebrows are waxed, and his beard is immaculate. His jeans are perfectly pegged. He looks like he may come from timber money or maybe straight from a photoshoot. You decide to ignore the collar question and steer the interview yourself, “I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new in town?”
Could I sound any more lame?
“Not exactly. I’m in school at Carnegie Mellon, my last year. I was supposed to meet someone here, so, yeah, first time in this place.”
“What are you studying?”
“Computational Biology.”
You smile and nod like you know what that is and keep questioning him, “So what happened with this guy who ghosted you?”
Dill sighs, his body too slight to hold the amount of disappointment he’s radiating. “I know it was probably bullshit, but I’ve been texting with this guy I met on an app for three weeks, and he was supposed to meet me here tonight.”
“Oh. Do you know his name?”
“No, we hadn’t exchanged real names. I have a picture he sent.”
“Can I see it?”
Dill opens his phone, pulls it up and hands it to you. The guys looks way too good to be real, but you don’t say that to your new friend. “Do you recognize him?” he asks you.
You shake your head, “No. Seems kind of a big step to meet him here at a public dungeon. No coffee first?”
“I get that, but I’m not looking for a boyfriend; I’m looking for a Dom. I’m tired of living my fantasies in my head.” He seems genuinely downhearted at the missed connection. “I thought he and I were connecting on that; I’d hoped it was real.” You get the distinct impression that Dill is not new to this scene, just to this exact situation. “There are even some groups on campus that I’ve been to, but everybody there is really young and just experimenting. I know what I want; at least, I feel like I do.”
“Well, look on the bright side. You found a place with a bunch of Doms. That’s a good thing, right?”
Dill hangs his head, “Yeah, I guess so, but I really had my hopes up which was so fucking stupid of me. I’m just going to get an Uber and go home. I’m not in a good place right now.”
There’s something about this guy that draws you to him; he’s fully embodied and not putting on any front at all. He’s unabashedly human and it’s disarming. You’re more used to the game played up to the last minute. He’s not playing a game at all. It’s as if he’s never experienced that side of your kind. While you’ve been happily married, the gay culture has kept moving forward. Times have changed. He’s almost, in a weird way, somehow situationally virginal. “Can I see that picture again?” you ask him.
“Yeah.” He hands you his phone again.
You look up as Brian approaches you, turning Dill’s phone to face him, “Brian, do you recognize this guy?” you ask him.
“Uh, no. Should I?”
“He’s the guy that stood him up,” you clarify.
“May I?” Brian asks, extending his hand for the phone. Dill nods, and Brian takes it and quickly turns it back around and shows Dill, “He’s nobody. That’s a stock photo. Just found it on the web. Google image search.”
“Fuck,” Dill says, “Asshole.”
“He was supposed to meet him here,” you press on, “They’ve been talking for weeks.”
“Do you know his name?” Brian asks.
“He said his first name is Joel, but I think that’s a lie. I didn’t tell him my real name.”
“Okay, hang on.”
Brian walks away with Dill’s phone and shows it to Josh and to Rusty (who reminds you of the Irish Spring guy but without actually using the soap), and you watch as he exits the dungeon to probably find Dave. He’s back in mere seconds shaking his head. “No one knows a Joel or anyone that uses that stock photo. I’m sorry.” And then he turns to you, “I think Matt wants to say goodbye to you before he leaves. He’s in room three with Josh and the other guys. Go poke your head in and then we can go.”
You look at Brian and then at Dill and decide you’ll just go really quickly and finish up with Matt. You turn to Dill before you get up, “Wait for me, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Dill shakes his head, “No, it was nice to meet you, but I want to go home.”
“You live in a dorm?” you ask him.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll give you a ride,” you offer, your voice going up one octave and speeding up for no good reason, “I mean, I promise we’re not psychos or anything, and clearly, you aren’t a psycho, so just let us, okay?” What follows is a moment of uncertainty that you know Brian will figure out and get up to speed because Brian’s lightning fast in social interactions. You’re just afraid that Dill will leave anyway, and even though you’re not sure exactly why, you just don’t want him to go just yet. Brian zooms up to your speed just like you knew he would, “We’d love to give you a ride,” he agrees, “You’ve had a rough night.”
“Okay, well, thanks,” Dill says, “It’s like twenty minutes from here.”
“No problem. I’ll be right back,” you declare, walking with an embarrassing urgency to find Matt, pat him on the head, and get the hell out of Release. When you find Matt in room three, the look on his face tells you that you were right about his experience. He looks high as a kite and is surrounded by Josh, Rusty, Rusty’s body odor, and two other Doms. He waves at you and welcomes you into his personal post-orgy love fest. You beg off, “I can’t, I can’t, but I’m glad you had a good time. You look like the happiest person in the world.”
“It was amazing, and being watched, I really liked the crowd. I might be cut out for this.”
“You are,” Josh says, “Trust me, you are.”
“We’re on our way out, but it was good to meet you and I hope you enjoy your...slavery... here.” They all laugh as you back out of the room, pulling the door closed behind you. You turn around and Brian is standing right behind you. It startles you and you scream a little, “Ah! What the fuck?”
“His mom called and he answered it,” Brian says pointing through the open dungeon door. Dill is on the loveseat deep in conversation. “I mean, who answers their Mom’s call in a gay sex dungeon?” Brian asks you.
“He’s a senior at Carnegie Mellon in Computational Biology,” you say.
“What the fuck is that?” Brian asks.
“I don’t know. Google it.”
Brian takes your hand and pulls you into Dave’s office which is barely lit and empty. “You need to tell me what we’re doing with him.”
“I’m not sure yet,” you admit.
“Okay. What does that mean?”
“He came here to meet some Dom who ghosted him. He’s been talking, like, intensely to this guy for three weeks, and he is really upset that his night fell through.”
“Okay, that’s nice, but it didn’t answer my question. What are we doing, Justin?”
“Can’t we just get him in the car and then decide?” you try with a cute shrug.
“Are we a couple of bumbling serial killers here or what? Stop being obtuse with me.”
“I don’t know. I like him, okay. There’s something about him. He’s….he’s...well, he’s very cute. He’s clearly wealthy--”
“Justin, spit it out.”
“I want to take him to the loft.”
“Against his will?” Brian asks you with an incredulous look on his face.
“God, no. I just think we should talk to him, get to know him a little better, if he wants. He’s an old soul or something, Brian. I feel like I’ve known him forever. It’s really kind of weird.”
“When you met me, did you get the same feeling you have now?”
“No, not at all.”
Brian nods, studying your face, “Okay, so this isn’t some overwhelming sexual attraction you feel?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know what it is. I just feel like we need to stay close to him tonight.”
Brian fondles the stubble on his chin and then walks the perimeter of the small office before he speaks, “Then go get him and let’s talk to him together. I don’t want to put him in our car and start driving unless we know what we’re doing...or at least have some idea.”
“Okay, I’ll go get him. Wait here.”
***********
BRIAN’S POV
You aren’t exactly sure what Justin’s up to with this guy, but he’s obviously committed to the next step of getting his body into your car. You put Dill through his paces when he gets back to the office with Justin; you ask some questions, ask to see his ID to determine his age. He’s twenty-two and apparently took a ‘back-pack-around-Europe’ tour after high school and started college late. Justin’s probably right that he’s wealthy. Then you zero in on what was supposed to happen with his no-show hook up. “You were going to meet him here and then go where?” you ask him. You just want to see if his story changes at all.
By now, Dill is sitting in a chair fixing the laces on his boots. “I figured we’d go to his place or a hotel. I wasn’t really sure.”
“And he hasn’t texted you back at all tonight?”
Dill looks defeated, “No, his profile is gone. He’s gone. It was all bullshit probably.”
Ah, yes. The harrowing tale of the kinky catfisher.
Justin’s standing behind Dill and giving you a look like enough already Law & Order: SVU. You take Justin’s cue and sit down yourself making eye contact with your new friend. “Would you be interested in going home with us tonight?” Dill’s eyebrows go up; he’s curious. “I mean, not our home home, but we have a place here about five minutes away, and if you’re game, we’d like to spend some time with you or, if not, we understand, and we’ll drive you back to campus.” You sit back and wait for his answer. You’re struck by how much times have changed. Twenty years ago, you would never spend this much time getting a guy to go home with you. Hell, all you had to do was sort of nod to someone, and he’d just get right in your car and pull down his pants. Now you’re checking his ID and considering whether to pull him up on Ancestry to verify his lineage.
Dill looks at Justin who’s now standing beside you and then back at you inquiring, “What would we do?”
Justin responds, “What would you like to do? We’re flexible.”
“I wasn’t expecting this,” Dill says, and you believe him. He seems inoculated against the constant pick up game of homosexual men. You’ve never seen a fag this thoughtful about carnal activities in person.
Justin keeps going, determined, “We weren’t either, but we like you.”
“Can we get something to eat first? I am absolutely famished.”
Justin looks over at you and then back at Dill, “Sure. It’s late but the diner’s still open. Sound good?”
“Anything, honestly, I was nervous and I think I forgot to eat,” your new friend confesses.
“Great!” Justin exclaims, slipping his hand in yours. “Let’s go.”
***********
The Liberty diner crowd of today is not the one of yesteryear. No one here recognizes you or will admit that they’re old enough to. Once the three of you are seated in a booth, you can really see how much of a different species your new companion is. He’s a young gay man who has not one but two sexual prospects in front of him, and he’s more concerned with unrolling his silverware and setting his side of the table complete with a napkin on his lap. You figure out that Justin is the bridge between your two worlds when you open your menus. “Wow,” Justin says, “The menu hasn’t even changed.” Then he breaks it to a man named after a pickle that there is no kale or quinoa or acai bowl on the premises. “Just standard diner food. Hope it’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” Your wait person arrives and you and Justin order sandwiches. Dill orders a banana split with chocolate sauce on the side. His dinner order alone validates your gut instinct to check his ID. As soon as Justin hears what Dill orders, he changes his sandwich to a banana split too. Justin glances at you, and you shake your head, “It’s way too late for ice cream.”
“Or it’s early enough,” Justin postulates.
“I still want a sandwich,” you clarify.
The waitress asks you, “Comes with chips and a pickle. That okay?”
“Sure,” you grin, “I’d love a pickle.” Dill laughs and rolls his eyes.
While waiting for your food, you interrogate him a little more. How many guys has he been with? Less than ten, he says. Does he use condoms? Always except with his first high school boyfriend, but that was years ago. Does he get tested regularly? Of course he does. Justin is digging his fingernail into your leg because he wants you to stop. He apologizes for you, “Please don’t mind Brian. He’s from a different era. You know, the Jurassic.”
Dill laughs, his golden-flecked green eyes wide, and then he looks at you, straight at you, and replies, “That’s okay. I like that. It’s nice.” It’s an intentional, direct communication between you and him. It made you feel more like a me than a we...but in an interesting way...one that begins to percolate a new thought in the back of your mind…
Your food is served, and Dill remarks while holding a giant spoonful of ice cream, “I think I’m eating my feelings tonight.”
Justin digs into his sundae, and assures Dill, “Your feelings are delicious.”
They smile at each other and you wonder…
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Negotiations 35
NEGOTIATIONS 34
JUSTIN’S POV
Brian’s finger was tracing your collar and then trailing up and behind your ear while Eighty-Four was cuffed to a bondage board and penetrated with a grease gun by Josh. The sound Eighty-Four made when that circumference of steel was pushed inside him, fuck, you could feel it first in the pit of your stomach and then you felt your own ass opening like it was you on that platform. You looked up at Brian and kissed him on the chin, and that’s when you saw him: your distraction.
A man.
A young man.
Well, just a guy, basically.
He was leaning against the dungeon wall with one foot pressed against the cinder blocks, and you gave him a quick but critical once over to determine whether or not you knew him from anywhere.
You didn’t.
He was focused only on his phone with a very irritated expression on a devastatingly handsome face. Years with Brian have taught you how to size up a man in a gay sexual environment very discreetly and accurately. This guy was young, not even thirty and was, quite simply, the most perfect hipster specimen you’d ever laid eyes on. He was about five foot ten, fit, trim, white, with brown hair a bit warmer and lighter than Brian’s. It was very thick and purposely styled as was his beard. A quick calculation on his clothing and you knew his outfit and shoes cost at least five hundred dollars. (That’s another talent you honed from Brian. He uses it on clients to determine whether or not they can afford his services; you use it for ‘off label’ purposes.) This new kid, he reminds you of a sweeter, younger Jake Gyllenhaal.
He didn’t see you peeking at him because he was texting fiercely and visibly bothered. Brian misinterprets your head position to mean that you want more attention from him, but he’s very interested in the gang bang happening ten feet away. He squeezes your shoulder, “Don’t worry. I’ll take very good care of you tonight.”
You turn your head and try to focus on the debauchery happening in front of you. Eighty-Four appears to be having a wonderfully horrible experience. You feel a strange bond with him, maybe because you can tell he’s flying somewhere outside of his body, a fellow citizen of subspace.
You sit up a bit against Brian, and this time, turn your head and really look at your hipster hunk to see if he attempts to make eye contact. His phone's down, and his arms are crossed firmly across his chest. His jaw's set firm, and his eyes keep going back and forth between the EXIT signs on either side of the room. You stiffen a little and start to get nervous, a crazy idea that maybe he’s a terrorist...a homophobe….the bomb...at Babylon….
You tap on Brian’s shoulder and he sees your concerned expression and lowers his head so you can whisper to him, “I think there’s something up with the guy beside you.”
“I promise, I’ll fuck you immediately in the car when this is over.”
“Not me, dumb ass. I mean the actual guy standing next to you, on your left.” Brian starts to turn, and you chastise him, ”Be subtle.”
You start looking for fire alarms that you could pull if you needed to even though you could just as easily and effectively stand up and scream. When Brian turns and looks at your discovery, your discovery smiles at Brian. And in that one second smile, you relax. You know that smile. He’s attracted to Brian. He’s not a terrorist.
Whew.
“He looks fine to me,” Brian tells you.
“Well, a few minutes ago, he was pissed and texting like a mad man. He scared me.”
“You’re afraid of men texting?”
“He just was very not happy about something. Look at his body language. Something’s bothering him.”
Brian turns again, and this time when the kid looks at Brian, Brian doesn’t look away. Instead, he crooks his finger and the not-a-terrorist-after-all hipster walks three steps to the side of your love seat. Brian questions him in a way that you’ll appreciate more later, “Hi. Are you all right? My partner seems to think you’re--”
“I’m sorry if I disturbed you guys. I was supposed to meet someone here. He ghosted me, apparently.”
Ahhh, now I get his frustration.
“You can come sit next to us,” you offer, and Brian immediately gives you a look of disagreement that you pretend not to see.
“Are you sure?” your new friend asks.
“Sure.”
He walks over and you can smell his cologne as he sits next to you, and it’s not like any cologne that you smell on every man everywhere. It seems like it was made for him. It’s distinct but not overwhelming. Brian squeezes your shoulder like he wants your attention focused on the show and not the new guy, so the three of you sit quietly until the end when Eighty-Four finally is released from the bondage board, put on his back and fucked by Josh until he gets to come. Josh holds Matt’s cock and steers his load so it gets all over Matt’s face. Everyone immediately applauds; the rousing noise makes you jump in your seat.
As the crowd breaks up, your new friend apologizes again for interrupting the two of you, and you tell him, “It’s okay. I just thought...well...I mean, sometimes you never know people--”
“Tell me about it,” he bitches.
Brian puts his hand on your thigh, “Dave wants to talk to me for a minute, okay?” He gets up, his hand extended.
You don’t take the offer, Go ahead. I’ll be right there, okay?”
Brian looks at you intently and then at your new friend and then back at you before he leans forward, extending his hand to the unknown person next to you, “Brian Kinney. And you are?”
He shakes Brian’s hand; their arms passing in front of you, “My name is Dill. Nice to meet you.”
“Will?” Brian asks.
“Dill.”
“Like the pickle?” Brian scrutinizes.
“It’s a nickname. My last name is Dilworth. I go by Dill.”
Brian shrugs, “Hmm, very interesting,” and then turns to you, I’ll come back for you in a minute then.”
“Okay.” You turn to Dill, “I’m Justin.” And then you blurt out, “And we’re married,” pointing to the empty space Brian just occupied next to you.
“I see your rings,” Dill says, “How long?”
“Almost twenty years.”
Why am I just blurting out info to this guy?
Dill’s brow furrows, “There’s no way, unless you--”
“I’m older than I look.”
“Okay, I get it. Nice collar. I mean, it’s real, isn’t it?”
You start to feel nervous about answering all these collar questions, afraid that maybe someone will decide to kidnap you and steal it or something, but there’s no reason to lie to this guy because you are one hundred and ten percent certain that this kid comes from a lot of money. His level of personal grooming is astonishing. All of his fingernails are the exact same length, his eyebrows are waxed, and his beard is immaculate. His jeans are perfectly pegged. He looks like he may come from timber money or maybe straight from a photoshoot. You decide to ignore the collar question and steer the interview yourself, “I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new in town?”
Could I sound any more lame?
“Not exactly. I’m in school at Carnegie Mellon, my last year. I was supposed to meet someone here, so, yeah, first time in this place.”
“What are you studying?”
“Computational Biology.”
You smile and nod like you know what that is and keep questioning him, “So what happened with this guy who ghosted you?”
Dill sighs, his body too slight to hold the amount of disappointment he’s radiating. “I know it was probably bullshit, but I’ve been texting with this guy I met on an app for three weeks, and he was supposed to meet me here tonight.”
“Oh. Do you know his name?”
“No, we hadn’t exchanged real names. I have a picture he sent.”
“Can I see it?”
Dill opens his phone, pulls it up and hands it to you. The guys looks way too good to be real, but you don’t say that to your new friend. “Do you recognize him?” he asks you.
You shake your head, “No. Seems kind of a big step to meet him here at a public dungeon. No coffee first?”
“I get that, but I’m not looking for a boyfriend; I’m looking for a Dom. I’m tired of living my fantasies in my head.” He seems genuinely downhearted at the missed connection. “I thought he and I were connecting on that; I’d hoped it was real.” You get the distinct impression that Dill is not new to this scene, just to this exact situation. “There are even some groups on campus that I’ve been to, but everybody there is really young and just experimenting. I know what I want; at least, I feel like I do.”
“Well, look on the bright side. You found a place with a bunch of Doms. That’s a good thing, right?”
Dill hangs his head, “Yeah, I guess so, but I really had my hopes up which was so fucking stupid of me. I’m just going to get an Uber and go home. I’m not in a good place right now.”
There’s something about this guy that draws you to him; he’s fully embodied and not putting on any front at all. He’s unabashedly human and it’s disarming. You’re more used to the game played up to the last minute. He’s not playing a game at all. It’s as if he’s never experienced that side of your kind. While you’ve been happily married, the gay culture has kept moving forward. Times have changed. He’s almost, in a weird way, somehow situationally virginal. “Can I see that picture again?” you ask him.
“Yeah.” He hands you his phone again.
You look up as Brian approaches you, turning Dill’s phone to face him, “Brian, do you recognize this guy?” you ask him.
“Uh, no. Should I?”
“He’s the guy that stood him up,” you clarify.
“May I?” Brian asks, extending his hand for the phone. Dill nods, and Brian takes it and quickly turns it back around and shows Dill, “He’s nobody. That’s a stock photo. Just found it on the web. Google image search.”
“Fuck,” Dill says, “Asshole.”
“He was supposed to meet him here,” you press on, “They’ve been talking for weeks.”
“Do you know his name?” Brian asks.
“He said his first name is Joel, but I think that’s a lie. I didn’t tell him my real name.”
“Okay, hang on.”
Brian walks away with Dill’s phone and shows it to Josh and to Rusty (who reminds you of the Irish Spring guy but without actually using the soap), and you watch as he exits the dungeon to probably find Dave. He’s back in mere seconds shaking his head. “No one knows a Joel or anyone that uses that stock photo. I’m sorry.” And then he turns to you, “I think Matt wants to say goodbye to you before he leaves. He’s in room three with Josh and the other guys. Go poke your head in and then we can go.”
You look at Brian and then at Dill and decide you’ll just go really quickly and finish up with Matt. You turn to Dill before you get up, “Wait for me, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Dill shakes his head, “No, it was nice to meet you, but I want to go home.”
“You live in a dorm?” you ask him.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll give you a ride,” you offer, your voice going up one octave and speeding up for no good reason, “I mean, I promise we’re not psychos or anything, and clearly, you aren’t a psycho, so just let us, okay?” What follows is a moment of uncertainty that you know Brian will figure out and get up to speed because Brian’s lightning fast in social interactions. You’re just afraid that Dill will leave anyway, and even though you’re not sure exactly why, you just don’t want him to go just yet. Brian zooms up to your speed just like you knew he would, “We’d love to give you a ride,” he agrees, “You’ve had a rough night.”
“Okay, well, thanks,” Dill says, “It’s like twenty minutes from here.”
“No problem. I’ll be right back,” you declare, walking with an embarrassing urgency to find Matt, pat him on the head, and get the hell out of Release. When you find Matt in room three, the look on his face tells you that you were right about his experience. He looks high as a kite and is surrounded by Josh, Rusty, Rusty’s body odor, and two other Doms. He waves at you and welcomes you into his personal post-orgy love fest. You beg off, “I can’t, I can’t, but I’m glad you had a good time. You look like the happiest person in the world.”
“It was amazing, and being watched, I really liked the crowd. I might be cut out for this.”
“You are,” Josh says, “Trust me, you are.”
“We’re on our way out, but it was good to meet you and I hope you enjoy your...slavery... here.” They all laugh as you back out of the room, pulling the door closed behind you. You turn around and Brian is standing right behind you. It startles you and you scream a little, “Ah! What the fuck?”
“His mom called and he answered it,” Brian says pointing through the open dungeon door. Dill is on the loveseat deep in conversation. “I mean, who answers their Mom’s call in a gay sex dungeon?” Brian asks you.
“He’s a senior at Carnegie Mellon in Computational Biology,” you say.
“What the fuck is that?” Brian asks.
“I don’t know. Google it.”
Brian takes your hand and pulls you into Dave’s office which is barely lit and empty. “You need to tell me what we’re doing with him.”
“I’m not sure yet,” you admit.
“Okay. What does that mean?”
“He came here to meet some Dom who ghosted him. He’s been talking, like, intensely to this guy for three weeks, and he is really upset that his night fell through.”
“Okay, that’s nice, but it didn’t answer my question. What are we doing, Justin?”
“Can’t we just get him in the car and then decide?” you try with a cute shrug.
“Are we a couple of bumbling serial killers here or what? Stop being obtuse with me.”
“I don’t know. I like him, okay. There’s something about him. He’s….he’s...well, he’s very cute. He’s clearly wealthy--”
“Justin, spit it out.”
“I want to take him to the loft.”
“Against his will?” Brian asks you with an incredulous look on his face.
“God, no. I just think we should talk to him, get to know him a little better, if he wants. He’s an old soul or something, Brian. I feel like I’ve known him forever. It’s really kind of weird.”
“When you met me, did you get the same feeling you have now?”
“No, not at all.”
Brian nods, studying your face, “Okay, so this isn’t some overwhelming sexual attraction you feel?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know what it is. I just feel like we need to stay close to him tonight.”
Brian fondles the stubble on his chin and then walks the perimeter of the small office before he speaks, “Then go get him and let’s talk to him together. I don’t want to put him in our car and start driving unless we know what we’re doing...or at least have some idea.”
“Okay, I’ll go get him. Wait here.”
***********
BRIAN’S POV
You aren’t exactly sure what Justin’s up to with this guy, but he’s obviously committed to the next step of getting his body into your car. You put Dill through his paces when he gets back to the office with Justin; you ask some questions, ask to see his ID to determine his age. He’s twenty-two and apparently took a ‘back-pack-around-Europe’ tour after high school and started college late. Justin’s probably right that he’s wealthy. Then you zero in on what was supposed to happen with his no-show hook up. “You were going to meet him here and then go where?” you ask him. You just want to see if his story changes at all.
By now, Dill is sitting in a chair fixing the laces on his boots. “I figured we’d go to his place or a hotel. I wasn’t really sure.”
“And he hasn’t texted you back at all tonight?”
Dill looks defeated, “No, his profile is gone. He’s gone. It was all bullshit probably.”
Ah, yes. The harrowing tale of the kinky catfisher.
Justin’s standing behind Dill and giving you a look like enough already Law & Order: SVU. You take Justin’s cue and sit down yourself making eye contact with your new friend. “Would you be interested in going home with us tonight?” Dill’s eyebrows go up; he’s curious. “I mean, not our home home, but we have a place here about five minutes away, and if you’re game, we’d like to spend some time with you or, if not, we understand, and we’ll drive you back to campus.” You sit back and wait for his answer. You’re struck by how much times have changed. Twenty years ago, you would never spend this much time getting a guy to go home with you. Hell, all you had to do was sort of nod to someone, and he’d just get right in your car and pull down his pants. Now you’re checking his ID and considering whether to pull him up on Ancestry to verify his lineage.
Dill looks at Justin who’s now standing beside you and then back at you inquiring, “What would we do?”
Justin responds, “What would you like to do? We’re flexible.”
“I wasn’t expecting this,” Dill says, and you believe him. He seems inoculated against the constant pick up game of homosexual men. You’ve never seen a fag this thoughtful about carnal activities in person.
Justin keeps going, determined, “We weren’t either, but we like you.”
“Can we get something to eat first? I am absolutely famished.”
Justin looks over at you and then back at Dill, “Sure. It’s late but the diner’s still open. Sound good?”
“Anything, honestly, I was nervous and I think I forgot to eat,” your new friend confesses.
“Great!” Justin exclaims, slipping his hand in yours. “Let’s go.”
***********
The Liberty diner crowd of today is not the one of yesteryear. No one here recognizes you or will admit that they’re old enough to. Once the three of you are seated in a booth, you can really see how much of a different species your new companion is. He’s a young gay man who has not one but two sexual prospects in front of him, and he’s more concerned with unrolling his silverware and setting his side of the table complete with a napkin on his lap. You figure out that Justin is the bridge between your two worlds when you open your menus. “Wow,” Justin says, “The menu hasn’t even changed.” Then he breaks it to a man named after a pickle that there is no kale or quinoa or acai bowl on the premises. “Just standard diner food. Hope it’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” Your wait person arrives and you and Justin order sandwiches. Dill orders a banana split with chocolate sauce on the side. His dinner order alone validates your gut instinct to check his ID. As soon as Justin hears what Dill orders, he changes his sandwich to a banana split too. Justin glances at you, and you shake your head, “It’s way too late for ice cream.”
“Or it’s early enough,” Justin postulates.
“I still want a sandwich,” you clarify.
The waitress asks you, “Comes with chips and a pickle. That okay?”
“Sure,” you grin, “I’d love a pickle.” Dill laughs and rolls his eyes.
While waiting for your food, you interrogate him a little more. How many guys has he been with? Less than ten, he says. Does he use condoms? Always except with his first high school boyfriend, but that was years ago. Does he get tested regularly? Of course he does. Justin is digging his fingernail into your leg because he wants you to stop. He apologizes for you, “Please don’t mind Brian. He’s from a different era. You know, the Jurassic.”
Dill laughs, his golden-flecked green eyes wide, and then he looks at you, straight at you, and replies, “That’s okay. I like that. It’s nice.” It’s an intentional, direct communication between you and him. It made you feel more like a me than a we...but in an interesting way...one that begins to percolate a new thought in the back of your mind…
Your food is served, and Dill remarks while holding a giant spoonful of ice cream, “I think I’m eating my feelings tonight.”
Justin digs into his sundae, and assures Dill, “Your feelings are delicious.”
They smile at each other and you wonder…
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Negotiations 35