8. STERLING

I'd collected Carla on the way to the club, telling her that I'd officially taken over and it was no longer her surprise. I had a nice navy blue shirt on, unbuttoned at the chest, and a pair of beige slacks. As much as I knew I spilled drinks when I got drunk, I was more concerned about staining a shirt than I was about my slacks.

"Where are we going?" Carla asked in the back of the cab. She was in a tube top and skirt with some wedge heels. A bold red lip and her hair pulled tight into a ponytail of curly ringlets.

"Nope. I'm not telling."

"Sterling. Is this the same place I was going to bring you?"

"Maybe."

"Por fa, Sterling. I wanted this to be my thing for you."

"It's too late. It's already booked."

She cooed. "What is it? What have you booked?"

"Just wait."

We pulled up outside the club. There was a bright neon sign in a script signature font and surrounded by lights like a vanity mirror.

Carla whacked my arm. "This is where I was going to take you," she said. "It's like the only gay club I know."

Reinas was a local queer club in the city. I'd only been a handful of times, but it was some of the best nights I'd ever had. When Alejandro had mentioned it to me, I knew it was the place to celebrate Carla's birthday. It had been so long since I'd been, I didn't think it would be the same place, and it wasn't. It was better.

We skipped the queues, thanks to the concierge who had our name on the guest list and we were escorted to a table. The club was packed, so many people were partying to the reggaeton music over the speakers.

"So, this is also the surprise," I said, loud enough for her to hear me through the music.

"A table," she said. "No. How much was this?"

"Alejandro got us a good rate, I think." At least I hoped he had.

The booths, more appropriately named could fit eight people comfortably around them. It was just the two of us, but there were plenty of people around, trying to catch our eye.

"It looks so clean," I said, trying to recall some of the nights I'd got black out drunk in this place from partying. "Also, there's another surprise."

Carla whacked her hand at me again. "Stop it."

"No, it's your belated birthday."

"Belated?"

I explained the word to her. And moments after, the surprise arrived. A shirtless man with glistening oiled up abs came over carrying a bucket of ice with a bottle of tequila inside, and sparklers fizzling out at the side. Everyone watched while it happened, I would have as well, it was a spectacle.

"I don't have work in the morning," I said. "So, we're gonna get drunk." I wanted to get as drunk as those guys last night. It would at least allow me to feel some sort of connection to the youth. I needed it.

The man placed the bucket on the table where Carla inspected the tequila. "I love this stuff," she said.

"It was a choice of that, vodka, or champagne, and I just know you well enough."

A woman appeared behind him with shot glasses and straws for us. She'd brought six, but we were only two people. She left them, just in case.

"I didn't think the night would start so early," I said, doing the honors of pouring the first two shots. "But I guess I was wrong."

"This place is always popping."

"Popping. Love that."

We clinked glasses, said a little cheer in Spanish, tapped our glass once on the table while staring each other in the eyes, and down the hatch it went. The burn was intense, but it was gone just as quick. My eyes watered from the taste, but I was prepared for another.

Second shot in and I was starting to move with the music, letting my body sway and hope my hips remembered how to get down to this type of music—I felt so old.

"Oh my gosh," Carla said.

I turned immediately, fearing she'd spilled something."What?"

"It's those guests from the resort," she said.

Turning back around just as fast, I should've sprained something with the speed at which I moved. And there they were, Fallon and Henry, followed by the lesbian couple I'd spotted them eating dinner with last night. They seemed to be heading out way, following the same person we had to our booth.

"Are they—"

"No, I—"

"They're coming over," Carla said, quickly pouring another shot. "I hope they don't recognize us."

I couldn't agree to that sentiment. "I—"

She hit me. "Really?" She knew me so well, all she'd heard was a single syllable come out of my mouth and she knew exactly what I was thinking. "Then go for it." I could never read Carla the same way, well, not all the time at least.

I didn't know what to do. My heart raced as I watched them come up the steps and be led to a booth right beside outs. I locked eyes with Fallon, and at the same time, I took another shot. I needed the courage, because tonight, I was going to make a move.

They sat in the booth beside up. They'd made eye contact, but they were getting comfy together in their surroundings. Of course, it shouldn't have been a surprise that they'd be coming here. I had gotten the same information and deal from Alejandro, and I'd recommended them to speak with him.

After another shot of tequila each, we called over for some water. The large bottle was supposed to be shared with groups of eight people, and if we didn't slow down and get some mixed drinks in our systems soon, we'd be carted off for sudden alcohol poisoning.

"Do you think they're know it's us?" I asked Carla, grabbing an ice cube and rubbing it at the heat on my face. "I mean, it's not exactly daylight in here. And I did something different with my hair."

She giggled before ruffling her hand through my hair. "Sorry to tell you, but your hair is still the same."

"But I put some hair stuff through it," I said.

"Not enough," she laughed.

The server came to our table with water, a couple sodas, and some orange juice. I downed my water immediately, like it was quelling the fire of tequila which had burned its way through me. And as I finished, nearly dropping the wet glass on the table, I caught Fallon's eye as he glanced in my direction.

I waved, mouthing hi at him.

Carla was pouring tequila in the orange juice, unaware of the nonverbal chemistry happening right now between a shared glance. I wanted to call for him to come over, but I also needed just a touch more Dutch courage before I made the move on a guest from the resort.

"Try this," Carla said, almost hearing my thought.

It was delicious. I drank half the glass of it. I didn't immediately go to their table. Instead, I went right by them, making eye contact with Fallon, but not looking back. I headed to the restroom, knowing all too well how they were in clubs like this.

Men crowded around the doorway, they all wore tank tops and shorts with flannel shirts wrapped around their waists like wearing them was some type of masculine disguise for them outside the club.

The restroom was a trough-like urinal and two singular toilet stalls where the locks had been ripped away to stop people going inside and fucking. I don't think it stopped anyone since the shadows of two or three bodies were fumbling around inside the first.

I stood at the trough beside two other men, sharing glances at each other. The man to the far end by the wall had his cock turned away, jerking it from the way I saw it curve rather than flaccid. I pulled my cock out, only a little chubbed up from the flirting I'd done through our eyes with Fallon.

"Hey," a voice said from beside me. Fallon stood and pulled his cock out of his jean shorts. His eyes were locked on mine, but as I glanced to his cock, he looked at mine. I really had needed to piss, but since he was staring, I was getting harder, and trying to piss was going to become difficult.

"I thought I saw you."

"I know you saw me," he said.

"Yeah, did you follow us?"

"We didn't plan this, the girls did," he said.

"I—I do really need to pee," I told him.

"Same. I thought that's was why we were both here."

I didn't know if he was playing me, or actually telling the truth. I couldn't quite tell. And as I thought on it, my bladder forced my hand. Fallon chuckled, and before either of us could stop it, we were directing our cocks to cross stream with each other. I had a lot in my bladder, I could've been an actual fire hose with my stores.

In that time, I'd totally missed the guy at the end of the trough find someone to tug on his cock for him. I was so lost in the strange moment with Fallon. He left my side to wash his hands. Joining him at the dirty, graffiti riddled mirrors, we both looked at each. I squirted white soap on my hands and rubbed them around, it was sticky, making me wonder what was in it. But it smelled like cocoa, so the questioning ended.

"Do you like it in here?" I asked.

He nodded. "I wanted somewhere to dance, but they're more interested in sitting at the booth drinking champagne," he said.

"Champagne. Bold choice."

"It wasn't my choice," he said. "The girls we came with got the booth and stuff."

There was a roll of blue paper on top of a slanted shelf, and under it, an area people had designated to crushing and throwing the paper once they'd dried their hands.

Out of the rest room together, Fallon slipped his hand into mine. I pulled him closer, and against a space on the wall, I playfully pushed his back against it.

We stood, face to face with each other. "I want to kiss you," I told him.

He licked his deep pink lips. "Then kiss me."

"Are you single?"

"Massively single."

"Ok, just making sure."

I pressed my lips to his and quickly descended into making out, my tongue in his mouth, and his in mine. We went back and forth with each other, our bodies practically squished together in the hallway that led to the restrooms.

Nobody cared, this was tame to some of the things I knew this club had seen before.

Fallon's hands explored my body with excitement, first up my shirt, he found my nipples and let his fingers brush through the hair on my chest to get to them on either side. I wasn't as quick to explore him and more concerned with keeping us cocooned together against the wall as my tongue dominated his tongue.

Leaning my head back, I looked at the skin around his mouth, it was growing a little pink from the way we'd been slobbering over each other's faces. I pulled the sleeve end into my hand and wiped his mouth for him. "We should go back," I said. "I don't want them sending a search party out for us."

He nodded. "One thing," he said. "You know what I'm into, right?" He lips beginning to pour and his brow furrowing.

"I think I know exactly what you're into," I said, looking him up and down. "Teddies, toys, and—" I stroked a hand down his face. "Being played with." I didn't know exactly what he was into, but I could make a guess. "You're a little."

He bit on his lips, his face either flushed from the heat in the poorly air conditioned hall, or he was blushing. "And you're a Daddy, right?" He stared at me.

"You want that?"

"Yes."

I continued to rub the back and my hand on his warm cheek. "You want to be called good boy? And you like being given orders?"

His head hadn't stopped nodding so obediently. I'd almost forgotten the feeling in my stomach. Like butterflies, but instead of nerves, it just made my cock rock hard, and the only way that was going down is if it was being used.

I took his hand. "You're a really good boy," I said, placing his hand over my bulging hard cock. "So, good."

"Here?"

"No, but this is what you've made happen."

He gulped, still nodding. "You wanna leave?"

My hand under his chin, taking control of his head. I pulled slightly, parting his bottom lip and giving him a kiss. "Give it an hour."

He squeezed a little around my cock. "Can you last an hour?"

That was a good question. I knew I probably couldn't last an hour being hard like this, but I couldn't leave Carla, and I didn't want to take him away from his friends. However, those thoughts being thought—we could getting pretty close on the dance floor and with being so close to him, it would've been like one continuous edging session.

When we got back to our booths, they'd all moved to our table with the tequila. They'd brought their bucket with champagne in. It made me feel less guilty about leaving Carla alone, although I knew she would've made friends easily.

There was a squeal loud enough it almost sounded like a record scratch on the music.

Hand-in-hand, we stood in front of the table.

"We're going to dance," I said. "If anyone wants to join?"

Henry snapped his fingers high in the air. "You two go dance," he said, laughing. "And use protection."

Fallon's hand grew tighter around mine. "Henry, shut up," he said. "We're just going for a dance." He reached for a glass of champagne and downed it. "You're all free to join."

Although I was glad nobody took our offer. I didn't want to dance as a group. I wanted to dance with Fallon in front of me, his ass gyrating on my cock to the music in the room. And reggaeton music made it very easy to move your hips to. I was just glad I didn't bust a nut and soil my pants.