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Chapter One
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He'd never done this sort of thing before. It was making his stomach
tie up in knots and even all balled up, butterflies still managed to
make their way in. Man, he was going to be sick.

"Relax, John," Michael said to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and
giving him a few pats. "It'll be fun, I swear, the wildest. You'll
love it."

He looked at his friend, anxious. "It's just - I mean...I've never
gone to a gay club before."

Michael smiled that charming smile which got him all the men and
women. "There's a first time for everything."

He was really going to throw up. Really, very seriously, he was just
going to throw up all over the place, and embarrass not only himself,
but Michael as well. He couldn't do that to his friend, could he? Of
course not. Which is why he definitely shouldn't follow him into the
club. But did he? Of course.

The place was dark, even with all the different colored lights
illuminating the dance floor. There was a haze of smoke blanketing the
entire club, invading John's nostrils, but he could smell something
else too: Sex. The air was ripe with it, and it scared John, but
excited him at the same time.

His eyes traveled from the dance floor to the adjacent bar and back
again. Boys were everywhere, and they were all so strikingly
beautiful. Too beautiful. John paled in comparison. He shouldn't be
here, he didn't have a place, unless you counted the background,
because all he would do was fade away surrounded by all these gorgeous
bodies.

"Where're you going?" Michael called. Even *he* was pretty: dark hair,
dark eyes, dark skin, a regular Don Juan. Oh, no, he was the ugly one
out of the two of them, there was always a pretty one and an ugly one,
and he was the ugly one. "The dance floor's this way, if the moving
lights and tons of dancing boys didn't clue you in."

"I was going to get a drink," John said, pointing to the bar. He'd
also maybe been about to leave, but kept that to himself.

"Oh, come on, we'll get something later," he stated, just a hint of
exasperation in his voice as he grabbed John's arm and pulled him
towards the crowd. "Someone'll steal it or spike it anyway. Let's dance."

"Dance??" John squeaked. "I don't know how to do that!"

Michael stopped and looked at him, obviously annoyed. "John, it's not
hard. Here, I'll teach you: You knock your cock against somebody
else's and move your arms a little. Lesson over! Let's *go*, I want
you to meet everybody."

"Everybody as in more beautiful people?"

Michael gave him a sympathetic look, reaching out and grabbing his
chin, smushing his face. "Oh, John, you're cute! In this lost puppy
kind of way with those big brown eyes of yours." He let go and
suddenly looked at John distastefully. "You could do with tweezing
your eyebrows a little less, though."

John touched one of them, hurt. "Vanessa did them."

"She's a fucking *drag queen*," Michael stated. "Never let one of
those near your face unless you want to end up like one. Now let's go."

"Does it look bad?" John asked, frightened. He grabbed at Michael, who
was walking away from him again. "I should - "

"John, I swear to *God* if you don't stop I'm going to kill you," he
hissed, turning sharply. "You are *really* bringing me down here, buddy."

"I'm - "

"Michael!" someone called, interrupting his apology. It was a tall
black man, flashing the most perfect set of teeth John had ever seen.
The man kissed Michael on both cheeks once. "You finally made it!"

"Yeah, well, the Virgin Mary here started freaking out on me last
minute," Michael replied, and John gawked with embarrassment.

"Virgin, huh?" the man asked, putting an arm around John's shoulders.

"Just to the whole...scene," John clarified.

"Well, don't you worry, baby," the man purred. "We'll break you in yet."

The statement didn't ease his nerves one bit.

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They danced. It was exactly how Michael had described it: you knocked
your cock against somebody else's and moved your arms a little, but it
was a lot more fun. He danced with Peter, the handsome black man. He
danced with Michael, and Michael's friends, Art and Danny and Scott
and everyone. But he wanted to dance with the beautiful dance whore,
the boy who moved from body to body so easily, like it was some game,
staying just long enough to make them want him.

John wanted him.

"Don't even think about it," Michael said, following John's gaze.
"He's way out of your league. He's even out of mine."

But he did think about it. He thought about it all night, as he lay in
bed, awake. He thought about it as he grasped himself between his legs
and jerked off. He thought about it even after that, because his own
hand wasn't enough; he wanted that boy's.

Oh, man. He couldn't wait to go back.

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To be continued...
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