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    "Congratulations, John. You're a free man."

    I shook my lawyer's hand, holding my freshly-signed divorce papers in the other.

    "Thank you," I replied, reluctantly letting go of his hand.

    "How are you gonna celebrate?" he flashed me his gorgeous smile.

    "I know how I'd like to celebrate," I thought. "Invite you out on a date."

    "Oh, I'm in the process of moving," I said out loud. "Not much time for a celebration."

    "Well, I wish you all the best."

    This was it. As happy as I was to have the divorce finalized, I would miss seeing my attorney. I'd developed quite a crush on him. 

    I left the building feeling like a new man. Even though it was December, the LA sun shone brightly. My lawyer was right: I was free. Not only free because I was single again. But free because I was single and gay; and finally at peace with it.

    "I was thinking Friday," my new roommate said.

    "What for?" I asked.

    "For your housewarming-slash-coming-out party."

    "Star, I told you, I'm not having a party."

    "C'mon, you have to do it," he urged me. "You got double reason to celebrate."

    "I'm busy," I lied. "And it's the holidays. People have enough parties to go to."

    I couldn't get myself to tell Star the truth: I didn't have anyone to invite who would show up to a party.

    While I was married, I'd allowed most of my friendships to fade over the years. Sure, I could invite my wife. Or ex-wife, rather. Our relationship was still surprisingly amicable, considering... well, considering we'd just gotten a divorce. Still, it felt a bit gauche to tell the mother of my children "Come celebrate the fact I'm gay and that I left you guys, woohoo!"

    "Fiiine," Star gave in reluctantly. "In that case let me take you out."

    "Okay," I agreed. "Since it's such a big deal to you."

    "Of course it's a big deal. You're one of us now! We gotta welcome you to the club."

    Star was one of those gay people that threw up rainbows all over everything, and I loved him for it.

    "Where do you wanna go?" I asked.

    "Taste? I can get us in for free. And they got the hottest gogo boys," he winked.

    Of course he would pick that place. I'd never been there, but even I knew it was the most popular gay bar in West Hollywood.

    "Okay. But I'm not dressing up for it," I insisted.

    "Dressing up? Honey, it's all about dressing down at Taste," Star lifted his shirt and did a sexy little grind.

    "I'm not doing that either."

    "Yeah, yeah. Talk to me after a couple of shots of Patrón."

    Star wasn't kidding about the dressing down part at this place. Was I the only guy in LA who wore a shirt anymore? Or who didn't have an impeccable eight-pack to flaunt? I wasn't even sure I'd be allowed in by myself, in the slobby button-up I'd chosen to wear. Luckily, Star seemed to know all the employees and not only did we get in, but we also got to jump the line.

    "I need a drink," I thought, looking at all the shirtless hotties on the dance floor, knowing not one of them would be interested in me. I didn't need to say anything, because my roommate was already making his way through the crowd and dragging me towards the bar.

    "I have something for you," he said, and pulled out a rainbow-colored sash that he put around my body ceremoniously.

    "Thank you," I shouted over the music, as Star said hi to the bartender and ordered us shots. A part of me was embarrassed to be wearing this but, looking around this club, it hardly mattered here. I was invisible to most of the these guys anyway. 

    Star came back with two shots of tequila and handed me one, which I was all too happy to take. I looked at the people on the dance floor again, marveling at how sexy everyone looked. The icing on the cake though, were the handful of gogo boys scattered around the place, dancing on platforms in nothing but thongs or jockstraps. Star was right: these were some of the hottest guys in LA. 

    I hated myself for being so shallow as I ogled at the dancer closest to me, an absolutely gorgeous Latino boy who seemed to be in his early 20s. His juicy ass shook to the beat of the music wrapped in nothing but a neon-green jockstrap that glowed in the dark, drawing eyes to him. As if he needed help attracting attention with a body like his. 

    It didn't take long for people Star knew to come and join us. It was good to see some more average-looking people around this place. Star introduced them to me but the music was too loud for there to be too much conversation. Oh, who am I kidding? All my attention was focused on the dancer in the green jock anyway.

    I spent the next half hour watching him, accepting the drinks that Star and his friends kept feeding me. The boy seemed to be the most popular dancer in here tonight. I noticed he got more tips than any of the others, and I could clearly see why. Even though all the dancers here were hot, this boy was charismatic and used it to his advantage. He smiled and winked at his tippers, or bent town to touch them, making them reach for a second or third bill to tuck in his jock.

    Half a dozen drinks later, I was finally brave enough to ask about him.

    "Do you know that guy? The dancer in the green jock?" I asked Star, who seemed to know most of the people here.

    "No, I think he's new," Star shook his head. "Haven't seen him around. Why, you got your eyes on him? Go for it!"

    "What do you mean?" I yelled in his ear.

    "Give him your number! Slip it in his jock."

    "You are absolutely crazy if you think a guy like that would be interested in me."

    "Okay, what did we say about this self-deprecating shit? Not in my presence!" Star waved his finger at me. "I don't think you understand how cute you are," he pinched my cheek and then started to wave at the bartender. As soon as he got his attention, Star got some paper and a pen and forced them in my hand.

    I did what he said, mostly because I was worried he'd hit me if I didn't obey. I wrote my name and number on the piece of paper and checked my wallet for cash. The lowest bill I had was a $20, so I guess that's how much the dancer was getting from me.

    Not that he didn't deserve it, I though, as I made my way through the crowd to get to him. His muscles were the perfect size; not too big like some of the roided jocks on the dance floor, but big enough to make me swoon, as much as I liked to think I was above that.

    I waited until there was nobody next to his podium who was looking to tip him. I didn't want any competition for his attention. When he was alone, I walked up to him, getting a good view of that beautiful ass, trying to peek between his cheeks, and wondering what's hiding in his pouch in the front. 

    "This isn't so bad," I thought. "I'll just leave the tip in his jock, like hundreds of people here. I don't even have to slip him my number, I'll just tell Star I did it."

    The dancer noticed me and smiled, looking straight into my eyes. Fuck, he was just as cute as he was hot. I was star-struck. I waved the bill I was holding, and the dancer took it from my hand and winked at me. He then used his other hand to gently stroke my cheek, before going back up and continuing to dance.

    I walked back to the bar, thankful that it was dark in here and nobody could tell I was blushing. And then I realized: the piece of paper with my number on it was folded in the $20 bill. The dancer had taken both of them.

    "I'm too old for nights out like this," I thought, making my way downstairs to get coffee from the nearest coffee shop. Luckily, it was Saturday and I didn't have to work. I would not be able to make it through a day in the office with a headache like this. 

    I got my coffee and walked back to my building, dodging joggers and dog-walkers who looked way more chipper than they had the right to be this early in the morning. When I got to the elevator, I took a sip of the coffee before pressing 6, instantly feeling just a bit better.

    As the doors closed, I heard someone run to the elevator. Next thing I know, someone's leg was in the elevator with me, preventing the doors from closing with his thigh. I could tell it was a man because he was wearing shorts, exposing his fine leg hair, as well as his big powerful thighs and calves. As groggy as I was, the sight of it was all it took to get me to start thinking about sex again. 

    The doors slowly reopened and I almost dropped my coffee when I saw the person standing there. It was the dancer from last night.

    "Morning," he said, smiling at me and turning to press 8. He then looked at his phone, completely ignoring me.

    "Of course he doesn't remember me," I thought. "It was dark at the club, and unlike him I didn't have strobe lights pointing at me. God knows how many men walk up to him every night, much hotter and more memorable than me. Still, he's holding a bag of bagels which probably means he lives here in the building. I need to say something..."

    We started going up and I stared at the screen that now said 2.

    What do I say, what do I say? "Hey remember me from last night, I gave you twenty bucks and my phone number?"


    "Hey, you're absolutely gorgeous, can I take you out for dinner?"


    "Never mind dinner, we can also just fuck if you're into it?"


    "I love your work," I finally blurted out loud.

    ("I love your work"?! Nice going, John.)

    "Excuse me?" the man looked away from him phone and smiled at me again.

    6. The doors opened. I got out and held my arm over the sensor so they wouldn't close.

    "I've seen you dance at Taste," I said casually, as if I went there all the time.

    "Ahhh, thank you," he understood what I meant and smiled even wider. "Do you go there often?"

    I was surprised to hear him ask a follow-up question. If I were him, I'd wanna get away from the elevator weirdo as fast as possible.

    "Sometimes," I lied. 

    "And do you live in the building? I haven't seen you around," his smile never left his face.

    I looked down. It was obvious I lived here. I was wearing raggedy basketball shorts and a baggy tee with a stain on it. Even though it was early and he had to work last night, the boy looked flawlessly put-together, in a polo shirt and nice jeans that looked simple but elegant. His shirt was moss green, making me wonder if green's his favorite color.

    "Yes, I recently moved into 6G," I pointed to the hallway behind me, but in doing so, I removed my arm from the sensor.

    The elevator doors started to close.

    "Well, I'll see you around, 6G," the boy smiled at me and gave me one of his signature winks.



    "Morning!" I said, walking into the apartment. I could hear someone in the kitchen, which meant my brother was finally up. "I bought bagels for breakfast."

    "Erg, I feel dead," my twin moaned as I walked into the kitchen.[1] He walked to the fridge like a zombie, completely naked. He took out a bottle of water, and I watched his glutes flex as he stood and finished half of it in one gulp.

    "Had fun last night?" I asked my brother as he turned and started walking to me. His morning glory was still there, I noticed.

    "Yeah, some of the guys and I stayed up after it closed and took shots. Might've had too much," he spoke with a raspy voice, squinting his eyes.

    "Did you make good tips?"

    "It's all there," he pointed at the kitchen table, the surface of which was covered in bills, and a single neon-green jockstrap.

    "It looks like it was a good night," I noted, as I walked to the table and started flattening out the bills.

    "It was. Too bad you weren't there. We always get so much more when we're dancing together."

    "I know. People and their thing for twins. But I really felt like shit last night, Mario, I had to stay in. I feel a bit better now, but I gotta be careful, otherwise I'll get full-on sick and then I won't be able to do anything."

    "I know, no worries," he finished up his bottle of water.

    "Who's John?" I asked.


    "There's a piece of paper with someone's number in here."

    Mario looked at me genuinely puzzled.

    "Ahhh yeah, a guy slipped me his number last night."

    "Was he cute?"

    "He was. He wasn't hot or anything, but he had one of those faces that just look kind, you know? He wore a rainbow sash, which was weird, but kinda cute."

    "So are you gonna text him?"

    "Maybe," Mario said, finally sounding a bit more alive. "But first I'm gonna have some more water and then take care of this," he pointed down to his erect dick.

    "Please do," I smiled and continued sorting the cash.

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