A Way to Capture This

So it came to be that Alex was back at Desire on Friday night, and the same blonde girl gave him a nasty look and flicked her eyes down to the stairwell. He opened the first door and noticed that the room housed significantly more people, but all equally as attractive. With a hint of a smile, Alex mused about the hiring standards this place must have had. He cleared his head quickly and sought out the boy he had picked last night. “Matt?”

And there he was, strutting towards him and looking even better than he had last night. Matt walked past him, crooking his finger to Alex as an indication to follow him. Follow Matt he did, into a room much like the one they’d been in yesterday. Alex was prepared this time, confident with twenty five dollars in his hand. Matt took it, again folding it over his waistband because there was really nowhere else to put it. This stereo played “Candy Shop” a song Alex recognized from years ago on the radio. He sat back in his chair, relaxed, while Matt ran his hands over his own chest and dropped his ass. Alex found himself beyond just turned on, and fuck, of all the guys in this city he had to be attracted to a fucking gay prostitute didn’t he? But, oh, that thing he was doing with his hips was nice.

The song ended faster than it had last night, it seemed, and Alex took a deep breath to steady his courage. “Hey, Matt, I don’t know what the rules on this are or whatever but can I call you sometime?” And Alex was sure he’d say no, because lip-ring-boy, as he still caught himself referring to Matt, was hot as hell and it somehow kept slipping his mind that if he had a couple fifties on him he could fuck Matt right then and there, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to see that face in the daylight, because in this shit hole of a building he couldn’t even tell what color his eyes were.

“Yeah, sure.” Matt said, and Alex pulled a pen from his slacks and he was in middle school again, where girls walked around with sharpie marker numbers up and down their arms as a badge of honor, look at me, he likes me. Only now it was Alex and he felt numbers being scratched onto his hand, and he just glanced at the pen marks before shoving his hands into his pockets.

“So tell me, Matt, what’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” Alex asked, and he was totally pushing his boundaries but it was okay, because he’d just gotten the number of a damn hot guy and his heart was pounding.

“I could ask you the same thing. Your time’s up...” and his voice did that thing that voices do where they trail off, waiting for you to fill in the blanks, and Alex did.

“Alex, they call me Alex.” Well of course they call you Alex, you dipshit, that’s your name.

“Well then, Alex, it’s time to go.” So Alex left, walking down the staircase and out to catch the same train of weirdos and freaks as he had last night, and Matt walked back through a clangy door into a room full of guys like him and tried to ignore the fact that he’d just broken club policy in the biggest way. But that was all Alex could think about, checking constantly to make sure that his sweating palms hadn’t worn away the number.

So when he got home, the “wait three days before you call” rule be damned, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed the numbers on his hand. “Hey Matt, this is Alex. I don’t know when you’ll get this, but it’s Friday night, and I was wondering if you might want to get a coffee at Hudson and Broadway, say two or something? Call back.”

There had never been a moment Alex had wished he had planned out what to say more than that one. But what was done, was done, and don’t cry over spilt milk, and the past is the past, and all that other bullshit your grandmother tells you when you make a mistake. And it was a mistake, no denying it, until he checked his phone just before he shut his eyes to sleep and found a text from a number he hadn’t saved, and it read «Yes».