DISCLAIMER ========== This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2003 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males: - if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.
And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002
It was my birthday and all I felt like was saying bah-humbug. Birthdays were supposed to be happy occasions spent with close friends and family, groaning over the occasional horrible gifts, putting on the pounds with the cream cakes that you usually never touch. So why was I here alone in my neighbourhood cafe toying with my half-eaten biscotti and a cup of cappucino?
It was all my fault ..really. This morning, I woke up as usual, got into the shower and gulped down my first cup of coffee, thick, black and strong enough to get up and dance, just the way I liked it. My daily routine brought me to the door to collect my daily newspaper. Finding the paper under the car after hunting for it, a quick flip through the morning papers confirmed the date and that was when it hit me. In the middle of the last week of October, one early morning around 7, I suddenly realized that I was the gay version of Ally McBeal. Skinny, alone, thirty-one and an obsessed workaholic but hopefully without the neurosis. Certainly without the hot men. It certainly wasn't a red-letter day for me.
Outwardly it would seem as if I had achieved all the dreams that I'd hoped for years ago. My career was doing extremely well and six months ago, I'd been promoted to being the youngest partner in the firm. I had a sizable nest egg, a well-stocked portfolio and a spacious, double-storey bungalow in a respectable part of town. As I looked around the vast emptiness of my home, I realized what had been lacking. In my rush to attain my goals, I had obviously missed out on a very important part of my life. My personal life was hell. All my friends were either married, getting babies or buying houses and all I had was a big empty house that I rarely saw in the first place, my Bruno Maglis and microwaved roti canai on weekends.
So what the hell was I doing all alone? Sure, the media has drummed us into believing that we were single, fabulous and bootylicious, we were living the life, that we could be sufficient without a significant other and yeah, I guess I do believe that to some extent but in the late of the night, as I sat watching the late news all alone... sure, it's no crime to be alone but dammit, I hated being alone. I hate going to the cinema and getting the stare when I ask for one ticket. I hate having dinner with a disapproving maitre'd wondering when your nonexistent guest will arrive.
It wasn't a matter of getting noticed. Although I was certainly no sultry-eyed, sexy cover model hunk, I didn't look all that bad for my age - my skin was still as smooth as ever, my hair still thick, black and only occasionally plagued with the disastrous white hair - and I had kept my physique trim and lithe with my thrice weekly workouts in my home gym.
Unfortunately, it had taken me more than twenty years to come out to myself. Had it been only two years back that I'd realized my error? It was during a romantic candlelit dinner that I'd taken a long, hard look at my girlfriend, Phoebe and came to the realization that I was not at all interested in her. She was young, extremely pretty, reasonably intelligent and yet she stirred nothing in me. Social precepts demanded that I wax lyrical over the way the golden light caught the cunning streaks of red in her straight black hair, the subtle glow in her dark brown eyes, the way the top of her slinky black dress teased over the soft, creamy mounds of her breasts. Almost a year and a half down the road, everyone expected us to get married, even my own parents. The shockingly expensive jewellery box from Tiffany's sat burning in my pocket demanding that I raise the question but all I felt was a little boredom, some resignation - and the urgent, all-consuming need to escape. Needless to say, I never popped the question. That night, I suffered serious head trauma from Phoebe's sharp heel, botched up my best suit and practically drowned myself in a drunken stupor. It took several days of soul-searching before I finally realized that all the years I'd spent masquerading as a straight man had only been a hopeless lie. All the women I'd dated before always had a flaw, something missing that I was searching for, something that I couldn't quite put a finger on - unfortunately it was only at the age of twenty-nine that I realized that it was the lack of a penis.
"You're certainly staying late today." My friendly waiter came by and flashed me a charming smile as he went through his rounds. Tengku Jeffri Rithaudeen was his name and Sexy Jef was what I called him. Glossy black curls, gorgeous skin the colour of gold dust and a smile that was damned near irresistible. Each time I saw him, I went into immediate testosterone overload. The flash of his smile as he charmed the customers. The flex of a hard bicep as he lifted the overloaded tray. The tempting curve of his tight buttocks as he turned to walk away.
Of late I had been feeling more restless than ever - and the feelings of loneliness that I'd dreaded had plagued me ever more often - and I knew perfectly the reason why. The reason was walking around dressed in a tight white shirt, sinful black jeans and offered his scrumptious buns to the highest bidders for a price. Unfortunately the buns he was offering - though no less delicious - came out from the hot oven in the back. Before I'd admitted to myself that I was gay, I certainly would never have continued in such a lascivious train of thought. Sure the gay hormones were functioning as they should, I'd sneaked peeks at the hunky men in the changing rooms of the local YMCA, admired the hard, tight young bodies of the athletes who came by but it had never occurred to me to dwell upon such a notion since I would immediately catch myself and channel my thoughts towards something else. Denial had been my daily mantra and I'd deliberately avoided anything that reminded me of the fact that I was morbidly fascinated with the way a jockstrap fit over a man's crotch. Anything that smacked vaguely of homosexuality started becoming a no-fly-zone in the realm that was my mind.
"Would you like to try the new buns then?"
It was a question that he posed to the couple behind me, a dark, dashingly mustachioed Indian gentleman and a fair young lady who no doubt had some Chinese blood in her ancestry. The context of the question had me smiling. No doubt he spoke of the new otak-otak buns on offer that week, a spicy, heady confection of bread and otak-otak, a fish-based delicacy but it was just way too fun to think otherwise.
Noticing my smile, Sexy Jef turned to shoot me a quick wink of acknowledgement and I felt a sharp, quick thrill. Part of me wondered whether he knew of the effect he had on me and I easily dismissed the notion. It certainly would not have occurred to Jef that the kind, conservatively dressed Chinese gentleman who dropped by his cafe could have an unbridled passion for his tight buns. Certainly not in a country such as Malaysia. The glittering towers, the modern skyscrapers that outlined the city and the chicly dressed city sophisticates strolling outside belied the fact that Malaysia was still a stern bastion of Asian conservatism and culture. In recent times, small pockets of gay life and society had come to life surreptitiously in the relative safety of the major cities but despite all this homosexuality was still very much a forbidden taboo and spoken in hushed tones at best - if not with the most deriding comments.
So Sexy Jef might have heard of the horrifying deviants, the trannies, the fags - and the various crude terms used to describe them - in the shadowed hallways of the all-boy schools in Kuala Lumpur but he certainly would not have associated them with me. Certainly not. Buttoned-up, serious, conservative. Not even my closest friends had guessed. Heck, not even my parents knew. Why else would they keep pushing me to get married and settled down with some nice young Chinese girl?
Taking his orders down, Jef hurried back to the kitchen and I peeked up from my book. There was that amazing butt again!Turning my head swiftly to stare into my cappucino, I prayed that he hadn't caught me drooling over his amazing gluts. Life certainly had its ironies to have me lusting after a cute waiter at least 10 years my junior - if not more. Oblivious to my lustful stares, he continued flashing that sexy smile my way as I weaved dark, perverted fantasies about a certain waiter cuffed and strapped to my bed.
It was at least an hour before he made his way back to my table. It was late by then, almost near his closing hours and the customers had dwindled down to my table and another table on the sidewalk with a bunch of teenagers. There was no one at home anyway and in between moments when I fantasized about biting down hard on Jef's ass, I found myself getting embroiled in the paperback I'd purchased earlier. For the past few weeks, it had almost become a custom for him to drop by my table and I had to admit that I had grown to anticipate our quick conversations. There was no one I could really talk to. Friends I had aplenty but a guy I could just talk and vent my feelings on was extremely rare and I seemed to have found such a guy in Sexy Jef, amazing as it sounds.
"What's up, man?" Drawing out the seat across from me, Jef sprawled out on the chair, spreading those magnificent limbs easily over the metal-backed chair. "You look down today, Mr Huang."
"I should say so." Close to being off-duty, he'd unbuttoned the first few buttons on his pristine white shirt, allowing tempting glimpses of his perfectly smooth, well-sculpted chest. If I looked closely enough, I imagined that I could catch the promise of a dark, lightly-furred quarter-sized nipple. As he shifted in his seat, I realized that I had been staring for far too long and replied hastily. "It's my birthday today. I am officially middle-aged, Jef. Over the hill. Old."
"Seriously?" The depressed finality in my voice had him throwing his handsome head back to laugh. "You are?"
The incredulity in his voice irritated me for some inexplicable reason and I glared. "Yes, call the circus. I am a freaking bloody thirty three years old."
"That's all? That's hardly middle-aged." Leaning forward on his chair, he flashed a warm smile at me. The scent of freshly baked bread, spice and the musk of young manhood clung deliciously to him and I privately longed for a bite. "I bet you've still got a few years left in those cranky ole bones."
The teasing twinkle in his dark brown eyes had me grinning in return. "Well, laugh it up."
A sudden thought came to him and he looked up in surprise. "Wait a minute. You're hanging around in the cafe for your birthday? That's not the way to celebrate. Come on, let's go out tomorrow night. We'll paint the town red, I promise."
The blurted out reply surprised me somewhat. It was a first. Since the first day I dropped by the cafe, he had never mentioned meeting outside and I looked at him askance. Although I would have enjoyed his company, I certainly wouldn't be a pity case. Having people stare at me when I sat alone in restaurants was bad enough. Of course no amount of self pride would have allowed me to refuse a pity fuck from Jef. "Don't worry about my silly troubles, Jef. I'll just watch some DVDs."
Evidently, his sudden offer had surprised him for a moment too but he recovered smoothly and continued, "Hey, I can't let my best customer drown in my cendol, can I? No way are you celebrating alone."
The horror on his face had me laughing. "You wouldn't want an old man along with you when you get out to score."
"You're not that old. And I'm not a slut," he corrected with an impish grin.
"How old are you?" I demanded.
"Nineteen in November," he said almost proudly.
"Nineteen?" The sheer difference in our ages made me cringe shamefully inside - it would make me a cradle robber - my Douglas to his Zeta-Jones. Though I certainly had no intention of pursuing anything with Jef apart from a casual acquiantance, I didn't like knowing that I'd had some sizzling hot X-rated fantasies about a boy young enough to be my biological son. Picking up my abandoned novel, I buried my head in it and waved him aside. "Beat it, kid. Leave the elderly alone."
My grumpy manner only had the young man laughing. Snatching the book from my hands, he placed it carefully behind his back. Even as I reached out for it, he stuffed it down the back of his pants. Normally, I would have just gone around to grab it back but this was Sexy Jef and his fine ass remained off-limits to me since I knew I wouldn't be content with only taking the book out of his pants. Satisfied that I'd given up, he leaned forward and threw down a challenge. "Come on, we'll hit the bars tomorrow night. Score you a date for sure. You're a good-looking guy."
"Go out with a twink like you?" I said in shocked accents. Of course the term twink didn't suit him at all since it implied looking youthful, slim and underaged. If anything Jef looked fully grown - and quite nicely too for his age.
"Twink?" Keeping the book firmly away from me, Jef raised a dark brow in reply. "Go ahead and call me names, I won't take no for an answer."
Although we had plenty to talk about in the cafe, I had never pictured us going out. "Jef. You know I can't."
"Come on, it'll be fun," he said cajolingly. "And don't even mention work, I know you don't work on Saturdays."
"Aren't you working tomorrow?"
"It's not a problem." He shrugged. "I'll work it around my boss. And anyway, you can consider this our excellent customer service."
I wonder what else he serviced.
It was stupid and I didn't know why I'd agreed. Readjusting the new jacket I'd bought in Bangkok recently and glancing at my reflection at the hall mirror, I hoped that I didn't look like hell. Why the hell had I agreed? Well, of course for the obvious reasons - the boy was beautiful, built and damned sexy to boot but it would never have occurred to me to go on a date with him. Ever since my come-out, I'd put in a hesitant tiptoe into the perilous gay dating pool and gotten bitten more often that I'd hoped. Unfortunately, all the men I met - and it was a woefully small number - were either way too young, way too old, way too incompatible or way too dysfunctional. And after a lifetime's worth of repression, the vast majority of them were only searching for a quick roll in the hay. Sure, the mindless exchange of bodily fluids, the hasty grappling of sweaty limbs and the quick charge of endorphins that came with it was a definite plus in my opinion too but was that all there was to it?
Sure, there was no need to suscribe to the stereotypical monogamous relationship that the straight world paid homage to but still, I was the product of my conservative upbringing and no matter how far I might have veered off the path they'd made for me, the thought of an open relationship certainly didn't mesh with me. Fidelity and commitment meant something to me. At my age, I'd hoped for someone stable, perhaps someone more interested in permanence and a relationship - which was obviously something quite taboo for gay men in their twenties.
As it was, I'd given up after the few attempts I'd made, withdrawn myself from the prowling gay sharks and consoled myself with the notion that I was reasonably content with my life. Until recently, of course. Mumbling to myself, I picked out a pair of shiny loafers and took a seat at the porch.
The reason stood at my gate, waving jauntily at me. A pert honk signalled me and I took a glance out my door. As usual, Jef looked great. As a nod to the cooler weather that we had been having of late, Jef had on a well-tailored black jacket, a white shirt and a pair of skintight black jeans that had to be illegal on a man like him. There was a faint five-o-clock shadow already darkening his jaw and I figured that he was the kind of man who had to shave at least every evening. Hell, he was barely legal and he shaved?! His dark, sexy eyes lit up with a warm glow as he called to me with a youthful enthusiasm that surprised me. "Brady! You're early!"
From my place on my side of the gate, I glowered. Did he have to look so damned Asian Abercrombie & Fitch? Beside him, I must look like some aging Chinese pimp out to hawk his wares. Superior Grade A hunk of beef but still I had to whine. "Do I really have to go?"
Crossing his well-muscled arms over his chest, he shook his dark head at me. "Don't make me come there. You are not chickening out on me, are you?" He smiled devilishly, his gorgeous dimples peeping in and out at the corner of his smile.
"Jef, I am having second thoughts," I pointed out as I tied the knots on my shoe. "This isn't such a great idea after all."
"You're not doing this to me." Peering at me from under his thick lashes, he shot me a glare. "I've already gotten all dressed up. I've gotten time off from the shop. There is no way you're backing out of this, Mr Huang."
He looked so confident, so cocksure that I had to smile. "Nobody's ever told you no, have they?"
Cocking his head to the side, he grinned at me. "Why Mr Huang, what do you think?"
It was at the tip of my tongue to back out but something in the way he looked at me made me change my mind. Whispering a silent curse for him, I shut my door and locked it. "Since I have no choice, I think you should call me Brady. Calling me Mr Huang like that only makes me sound old enough to be your father," I complained as I walked down my driveway.
"You can't be my father, you'd be only 13 when you had me," he pointed out.
As I fiddled with the gate lock, I gave him a warning look. "Don't remind me."
The disgruntled tone made him laugh. "Stop saying that, you're not that old."
For some reason, he seemed so determined to make this work that I had to smile. Pasting a smile on my face, I shrugged as I made my assent. "Fine, whatever you say. Okay, so where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
I stood back from him for a moment. "A surprise?"
"Yeah, a surprise. Trust me, you'll like it," he said reassuringly as he led the way to where he'd left his car. "Come on, Brady."
Smart boy, he should have known that my name on his lips would be persuasion enough. Turning around, he gestured towards his car. The glossy imported BMW had me gaping. Looking polished, new and hopelessly expensive, I wondered how in the world a lowly waiter had managed to earn that much. Tips? Special after-dinner services? Perhaps the idea of pimping him hadn't been that farfetched.
"Yeah, the benefits of NEP." There was a hint of derision in his voice but I remained silent. "It's my father's."
My brows came together. "Your father's?"
"I thought you knew," he said in some surprise. "Datuk Mazlan. He heads a .."
"I know. Who doesn't?" At his insistence, I got into the front seat, my head spinning with questions. Who wouldn't know his father? Anyone who even bothered to pick up the latest papers would know who that was. The boy's father was one of the up and coming Malay entrepreneurs who frequently made the front page with one of his latest acquisitions. Leaning back in the plush seat, I turned to look at him curiously. "Wait a minute. Your father is one of the richest men in the country and you work as a waiter?"
"Not exactly." Getting into the driver's seat, he looked up at my question and smiled. "My mother owns the shop. She had this unswerving urge to bake about a year back."
"Oh." Now that he had made his paternity clear, it was easy to place him amongst the gliterrati of the country. His father had married into one of the most prominent Chinese families years back before it became fashionable. It was difficult to associate the image of the glamorous Datin Nazlinda Kong, his part-Chinese mother having a yen to bake. It was like finding out that Audrey Hepburn much preferred making tasty meatpies on lazy Sundays rather than shop at Tiffany's. "Your mother has a yen to bake? Seriously?"
Jef's grin turned into a full-blown smile. "Don't act so surprised. She is an excellent cook. Mom personally made the cheesecake you called simply heavenly last week. I usually help out after classes as much as I can."
"Next you're gonna tell me that you bake," I remarked.
"Hey, there's more to me than a pretty face." As he edged the car onto the main road, he glanced over at me with a quick wink. "My marble cheesecake is to die for. I'll let you have a bite if you beg."
An image of Jef gloriously naked except for a chef's hat and an apron came to mind and I tried to push such salacious thoughts away only to imagine him spread out on a buffet table. Dark, smooth muscles stretched up his long naked torso served up on a silver platter for my benefit, fresh cream spread artistically down the corrugated slabs of his stomach mingling with the lustrous curls that no doubt drew a trail down the centre of his abs down to his groin. Thinking of adding the luscious red cherries on his naked body had me hard in seconds.
Giving me a quick look, he laughed. "Thinking about the cake?"
"Umm.. Yes." There was no need to tell him that I was thinking of a beefcake, more like.
Did I say that I liked his friends? I was wrong, they were the most shallow, conceited bunch of assholes I had ever met. Earlier, Jef had made a suggestion that we dropped by a hip new club that was owned by his friend, Kathijah. A lovely young woman with dark, sloe eyes and a quiet, confident manner, I liked her. Unfortunately, he didn't tell me that some of his other friends would be there too. Like Sexy Jef, they were all young, wealthy, good-looking, had the world at their feet and yet unlike him, they didn't look happy. Their words were mean-spirited as they sniped, bitched and gossiped about others. What made it worse was when one of them, a slinky, flirtatious girl called Sofea managed to latch her hands around Jef and remained desperately attached.
Just as one of them began another boastful tale of exploits, I excused myself to leave for the bathroom - and made my way out of the club. Just as I was about to make my escape and climbed up the stairs out of the club, he called out to me. One insistent hand reached out to clutch my shoulder and I turned my head, a quelling frown on my face.
"You left without me," he said in accusation, the note of surprise evident in his deep voice. In his hurry, he'd just tossed his jacket on his broad shoulder and the pristine white of his shirt flashed like a beacon.
"It's no problem. Just feeling tired, Jef," I mumbled back. "You stay here. I'll just leave." Shrugging off the confused look in his dark eyes, I walked down the steps of the club, winding my way through the milling crowd coming in. Of course I couldn't tell him the real reason behind my early disappearance. Apart from the fact that I disliked the company, there was also the factor called Sexy Jef. As suave and sophisticated as he'd turned out to be, it still wasn't de riguer in straight-laced Malaysia to be seen in the company of a closeted gay man. The thought that an oversexed, sexually deprived pervert might be interested in a taste of his tight young body would probably boggle his innocent young Muslim mind. Better that he continued in his fantasy that I was a man recently dumped in a heterosexual relationship currently in need of friendship instead of a desperate man in search of a hot ass in tight pants.
Anyway, unrequited love wasn't exactly my style.
"Brady! Wait up." Calling out to me, he caught up with me again just as I was walking away down the sidewalk towards a nearby taxi stand. Those long, athletic legs of his ate up the distance as I paused for a moment to look behind. "Wait, where are you going?"
"Home." I raised a dark brow at the hand he placed on my shoulder and tried hard to disregard the hot thrill his touch elicited in me. What would he think of me if he knew my innermost secrets, the licentious thoughts running through my head right now as I gazed at that handsome face and even better body through a mild alcohol-induced haze. Would he stare if he knew that I wanted to tear down that sharp suit of his, feast on that hard golden body and fuck him till his head caved in? Did he know how close to danger he was, how thin my control right at this moment with him standing so close.
"Home? You want to go home? Now?" Jef echoed my words blankly. Releasing me, he shoved his hands back into his jacket. When I made no reply apart from a faint nod, he tried again, puzzlement written on his handsome features. "Wait, let me get my car. You're coming with me."
Pulling away from him, I shook my head. "You don't have to follow me, Jef. It's not that late, I can still get a cab. I'm a grown man after all." A thought to consider. He was not only new and sinfully gorgeous, he was also at least ten years younger than me. Jailbait. Cradlerobber, I reminded myself.
"Wait, are you mad at me or something?" His big brown eyes widened and stared at me, something like hurt in the dark depths that surprised me.
"No, of course not. Stay with your friends and have fun."
"No."
His quietly vehement response surprised me and I turned around to look at him. "What?"
"You heard what I said." Balancing at the edge of the sidewalk, he grinned impishly. "They are not my friends. Well, maybe Kat but not the rest of that gang."
"Not your friends?" I said with some surprise. They had certainly seemed chummy enough earlier. It was obvious that Jef had known the group for some time as he had traded stinging barbs with the rest of them. Although he had tried to get me involved with them, I just couldn't. For one thing, we didn't have anything in common at all and for another, I frankly disliked them.
Under my curious gaze, he shrugged in reply. "No, they are just people that I sometimes hang with."
"Hmm... they seemed to know you well enough." Especially Sofea who had her glittery claws all over him. Although there was no denying her beauty, there was something sharp and brittle about her that I couldn't quite put a finger on. Of course the fact that a virulent shade of green coloured my judgement could have explained it.
"You didn't like them, did you?" Jef asked curiously.
They were his friends and yet I found that I couldn't like them. Perhaps I was being overly judgemental - it was after all the first time I'd met them - but I found them shallow, vapid and much too concerned with appearances. Looking at him searchingly, I said slowly. "They were.. look, it's the first time I met them... I don't know."
The expression on my face had him throwing his dark head back with a laugh. "Yeah, you didn't like them."
His reaction to my comments puzzled me and I felt that I should explain. "I'm sorry, Jef, I know they are your friends but except for Kathijah, they all struck me as .. extremely shallow." Even if he asked me, I doubt I'd even want to tell him what I thought of the tramp, Sofea.
For a moment, Jef looked almost insulted. "Come on, what kinda guy do you think I am? They aren't my friends."
"They aren't?"
He just shrugged. "Look, other than Kat, they are my acquiantances, not my friends. We just hang out once in a while. There is a difference."
"I liked Kat though." It was the truth. Out of the motley crew, Kathijah had seemed to be the only one amongst them with some semblance of ambition - and a decent job. The rest of them seemed to be drifting around in their lives with no steady career, no purpose in life - and a distressing lack of ambition. It seemed as if the only goal in their lives was to drink and be merry as they barhopped endlessly with their trust funds. The difference between them and Jef seemed vast - especially taking into account that he probably came from an even more wealthy, distinguished background.
"I'm glad. She's a wonderful girl," he said sincerely, almost reverently. Even in that short time, there had been an obvious undercurrent of affection between the two that was undeniable and I felt a stir of irrational jealousy. After all, there was no valid reason to feel even the slightest tinge of jealousy since Jef would never look at me the way I'd want. A great girl whom he liked obviously had feelings for liked him in return and I told myself that I should feel glad.
"Yeah."
There was a moment of silence as he just stared. "You didn't enjoy yourself, did you?"
The one thing that I enjoyed about our night at the club was him - and I wished I could enjoy Sexy Jef in a million other ways. Trying to get out of the situation, I lied my way through asI ran my hand across the railings of the taxi-stand. Nothing like law school to teach us the value of lying through our teeth. "It's not that, I'm tired, not that used to staying out this late anymore and.."
Knowing me as he did, Jef easily caught me in the lie. "That's plain bullshit. Answer me."
"Why is it so important to you? Is this the Be Nice to Elderly citizens day?" I looked at him suspiciously. "Was there a reason behind inviting me tonight?"
Instead of answering, he turned away, biting down on a full lower lip thoughtfully. After a moment, his gaze darted to me, a bright gleam in his dark eyes. "You didn't like the girls?"
"I know you mean well, Jef, but I simply don't.. " I huffed and puffed through my sentence but I certainly wasn't any closer to blowing him so I finally decided to come clean. Perhaps he would scream in horror and leave me alone so that I could go home and beat off to my fantasies of a sexy, dark-haired Malay hunk with pecs of death and a smile that was near irresistible. "Look, Jef, how do I put this? I'm not into girls. I never was - and probably never will be. Girls with their tight skirts and red lips turn me off. I'm gay, okay."
Instead of running back to the club away from the gay man as I'd expected, he smiled. "Good."
It seemed as if Sexy Jef was full of his own surprises. "Huh?"
"You think I'm stupid? And blind?" he replied with a low chuckle. Advancing towards me, he trapped me against the railings of the taxi-stand. "That I don't see you checking out my fine ass?"
I stared back at him, following the lightly furred, powerful forearms up his muscular shoulder to the tanned, handsome face staring down at me. It was all prime - and much too dangerous for me to be around.
"You can do more than look, you know." As I said nothing, Jef leaned closer, the spicy musk of his aftershave teasing my senses. "What else do you like about me?"
The heat of his breath burned against my cheek, his thick, muscular thigh edged between mine and I gulped. "I-I .." As my tongue got caught in my throat, I gave him a quick push and edged away.
"Coward," he whispered.
Turning on my heel, I left with him smirking behind me. His footsteps resounded behind me.
Closing my eyes, I paused for a moment and spoke loud enough for him to hear. "Jef, you're still following me."
"Yeah." There was the sound of low laughter behind me. "Following your very cute, older ass, I gotta say."
It was something I didn't need reminding. Tamping down the desire to turn around to check out my own ass, I deliberately quickened my step. "It's late, Jef. I gotta get home."
"I thought you'd never notice."
"Go home, little boy." I realized that I was walking away form the nearest taxi-stand but the one farther away seemed safer. There wasn't a good-looking, hard-bodied 19 year old there who was blurting out suggestive comments that made me want to push him on the ground and tear off his white shirt.
"You're not all that old, Brady. And if you say that again, you'll only piss me off."
"Brady, wait." Instead of leaving like I'd expected, Jef did exactly the opposite and hurried to stop me. Coming to a stop in front of me, he held up his hand, his eyes looking nervous. "Brady, I'm not used to begging but you are not making this easy for shy lil me. Just listen. You asked me why I asked you out. Would you be surprised that I've been dredging up the courage to do so? Would you believe that I've been eyeing you for the past .. hell, three weeks? Has it ever occurred to you that I might want to follow you home tonight?"
"You follow me?" I stared at his hand and then back at his face. His chocolate dark eyes faced mine without flinching, looking terribly earnest and young. "Look, don't play games with me. I am a homosexual. A deviant. Very dangerous. The only reason I went out with you today is to see you out of your underwear and in my bed."
Leaning back against a lamp-pole, he pondered my question before he gave me a mischievious grin. "And your point exactly?"
I stared.
"You know what I mean." Quizzically arching his dark brows, he crossed his sculpted arms in front of his breathtaking chest. "Look, all my friends know I'm gay. Not everyone's as closeted as you. Even Kat knows."
"She's not your girlfriend?"
"She's a wonderful girl but oh, God forbid, I'll be mince meat before her." His dark eyes turned soft. "I prefer someone more stable. More conservative.. more manly." Cautiously, his hand came to rest on my arm and I felt a spark. "A man who sees me as more than a piece of gorgeous meat."
It was difficult to imagine anyone not seeing that amazing face. "A stick in the mud." I finally smiled.
"Yeah. And by the way, I look great out of my underwear," he confided in me.
That was something that I never had a doubt. Thinking of his lean, hard body with that amazing sun-burnished tan in a pair of skimpy white briefs - and out of it - muddled my thoughts. If the mound of his crotch didn't lie, the boy-man had a hell of a package inside. "Dammit, you're flirting with me."
His dimpled smile grew wider, his even white teeth flashing. "Yup. Is it working?"
Damn him. Young sexy stud in front of me, his lips parted in a challenging smile that dared me. What else could I do but pull that damned handsome head close for a kiss? His lips parted easily before mine even as I crushed his. My hands ran eagerly down his powerful back, tracing the muscled, chiselled contours of his traps under his sheer cotton shirt.
Pulling away, Jef looked up at me. "Shit. I always knew you'd be one hell of a kisser."
At that time, my hands had reached the perfection of his ass and I easily confirmed what I'd always thought. Hard, warm marble ass cheeks that I wanted to stick my tongue in. It was a thought that had been in my head for some time now. "It's been a long time. I've been saving up."
Tracing the buttons on my shirt, he smiled. "Time to splurge then. Let's go."
I was still in a daze, the taste of him still on my lips, the burn of his bristles on my smooth cheeks. "Go? Go where?"
"Back to your place."
"My place?"
"It has to be at your place." Chuckling to himself, he leaned close to me, his adventurous hands crawling under my jacket. "We can't have wild monkey sex over at my place. My parents are totally cool but they're barely twenty feet away. You might be the stolid silent type but I do scream once in a while." He grinned again. "And damn it, I am gonna coax a scream from you at least."
As he whispered those words in my ear, my face burned. "Jef, I don't think we should.. I.."
"You are not going to say no to me after that kiss, are you? You couldn't be that cruel."
A shadow of a grin turned up my lips. "No but.."
Laughing, he stopped me before I could continue. "Oh God, no buts."
"There is a but and.." Then again, there was his butt. "Damn it. How fast can you drive?"