Waiting for Patrick (2 page)

Elliot chuckled. “Somehow I can see that working for you. But I’m not the clubbing kind anymore.” He never was as into it as Sheri was.

“You’re not the clubbing kind. You’re not the relationship kind. What kind are you?”

“The ‘going out with a friend, then coming home to sleep before calling a contractor tomorrow’ kind.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be over at seven to pick you up for the club. Be ready.” She hung up.

Elliot counted to himself as he headed back toward his suitcase. If he was going to have to go out, he would at least need a different shirt.
One, two, three, four—.

The phone rang.

“What’s your address?” Sheri asked as Elliot laughed into the phone.

ELLIOT HAD
time to unpack, make a list of things he wanted to buy, and generally get ready to live in the house for at least the next couple of days. Then, true to her word, Sheri showed up at seven sharp.

“Looking good, Cher.” Elliot swept her into his arms as soon as she stepped through the ornate door and into the foyer, his muscled arms enveloping her petite figure.

Even though he hadn’t seen her in a while, she hadn’t changed much. She still wore her stick-straight black hair long and loose, flowing down her back to stop at the ample swell of her hips. Sheri always said her hair was one of her favorite features, a toast to her long-ago Asian ancestor. In fact, her hair was one reason that, when Elliot wrote her nickname, he used a
c
instead of an
s
. He had always thought her hair looked like that of the singer by the same name, back in the seventies before she experimented with curls. He was surprised by Sheri’s reasonably sedate outfit, however. She wore a pullover, angora sweater and a wraparound skirt. The wild print of the skirt was the only thing about the outfit that was typical Sheri.

They went out to dinner at her favorite restaurant and caught up on personal news they hadn’t shared by e-mail or text. Then she took Elliot to a new nightclub that had opened up downtown several months before. It wasn’t a gay bar, per se, but apparently had a large representation from the LGBT community among its regular clientele.

Once they were in the parking lot, the
real
Sheri finally emerged. She pulled off the sweater to reveal a turquoise dress that left very little to the imagination. It left one shoulder bare and had strategically placed slits running up and down one side. As she undid the wraparound skirt and threw it in the back of the car with the discarded sweater, Elliot had serious doubts Sheri could even walk without revealing her underwear—if she was even wearing any. One never knew with her.

She laughed at Elliot when she saw him gaping. “What? You didn’t think I was going to wear my granny clothes to go clubbing, did you?”

He shook his head. He had no idea why he was even surprised. Changing the subject, he asked, “So, you were telling me this is a new club? You’ve been here before, I’m betting.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I have. I was here opening night. And several times since then. I like it so far. It does a good business, but it’s not overly crowded. It seems to cater to all ages. There are twinks, of course, but it’s not only twinks. You should be able to find someone you like.”

“I’m not looking for anyone, Sheri,” Elliot insisted for the millionth time that night, as they walked to the unassuming door of the nightclub. “I just want to spend some time with you, get the work on the house started, then head out to the next town.”

“And where might that be?”

Elliot shrugged and kicked a stray piece of gravel, watching it reluctantly roll away. It didn’t matter where the next project might be. It was never about the destination for him. He enjoyed the journey. Even if he didn’t sell this house, he doubted he’d stay there for long. He was never comfortable in one place. It was almost as if he was looking for something he never thought he’d find.

All conversation stopped short as they stepped into the darkened nightclub. Loud music assaulted Elliot’s ears. Strobe-light and laser-light shows emphasized writhing bodies on the main dance floor as well as on an upper level. Young men with oiled chests wriggled against each other and against middle-aged men dressed in polo shirts. Women paired off with each other or with one or more men as bodies ground together in time to the music. Women sat on men’s laps, getting cozy at the tables around the walls and at the bar, and no one seemed too bothered by the actions of anyone else.

“This really isn’t my scene anymore, Cher.” Elliot wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but he didn’t find the atmosphere nearly as appealing as Sheri seemed to.

“We’ll get a table toward the back,” she called over her shoulder as she led the way through the squirming masses of admittedly beautiful flesh. “Easier to talk back there.”

Elliot decided “easier to talk” was a bit optimistic once they reached an empty table in the corner, but he was more comfortable since they were farther away from the main throng. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. It was far too loud to talk to Sheri very easily. He ordered a beer and nursed it for as long as he could. When it was finally empty, Sheri flagged down a scantily dressed man who apparently worked there, and ordered them each another drink.

Not long after the second drink arrived, a young man, mid- to late-twenties, sashayed over to the table and draped himself over Elliot’s shoulder. His blond hair was short on the sides and stuck up on top in the “I just got out of bed and didn’t do a thing with my hair” style he’d probably spent forever on. A mixture of beer, cologne, and sweat overpowered Elliot before the man even spoke.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he slurred. “I’ve been watching you all night.” Elliot wondered how an hour or so could possibly be considered all night. The man continued. “Let’s dance.” He grasped Elliot’s wrist and pulled.

The kid was probably two or three inches shorter than Elliot and slightly built. He wasn’t going to be able to move Elliot unless Elliot allowed him to.

Elliot used his thumb and forefinger to encircle the younger man’s wrist and lifted it off his chest and away from him. Between the bare minimum contact and what Elliot was hoping was a look of disgust on his face, he wasn’t sure why the kid didn’t run away screaming. “I don’t dance,” he snarled.

It didn’t deter the guy, though. He clung even tighter and whispered into Elliot’s ear. “How about we go to the bathroom, then? We can do a different kind of dancing,” As he listened to the slur in his voice get heavier with each word, Elliot tried to estimate how many beers the man might have had.

“Maybe later.” Elliot regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Why was he offering any hope? He had no intention of going anywhere with this guy.

“That sounds promising.” The young man somehow managed to ooze into a chair beside Elliot without loosening his grip at all. “I can do later.”

Sheri was all but dissolving into laughter across the table from them. Elliot kicked her.

“Shut up, you.” He glared, but she giggled even more.

“Your drapery is still talking, Ellie.” She laughed, gesturing toward the twentysomething blond leech. Elliot tried to move away enough to look the kid in the eye but couldn’t manage it, so he simply listened.

“I’m Daniel,” he was saying. “What’s your name?”

Elliot wasn’t inclined to answer, so Sheri answered for him. “Oh, that’s Ellie.”

“Ellie?” The kid was definitely drunk or stoned or both, and was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the female name attached to the decidedly male body he was draped over. He seemed to feel the need to assure himself of the gender of said body and ran his hands down Elliot’s chest and into his groin. He smiled insanely when he found what he was after, and Sheri laughed uproariously as Elliot squealed in surprise at the personal intrusion.

“Darrell!” Elliot screaked. “Do you mind?”

“Name’s Daniel. And no. I don’t mind at all.”

“I did not invite you to put your hand there. Could you kindly move it, please?”

Daniel started doing exactly that.

Elliot groaned. “I didn’t mean like that.” He tried not to let his voice get husky as his body responded to the way Daniel rubbed his palm firmly into Elliot’s crotch. It had been a long time since anyone but himself had massaged that particular part of his body. “I meant move it away from….” Elliot moaned again and unconsciously scooted down in his chair to provide room in his rapidly tightening jeans. “Oh God.”

“Where would be the fun in moving it away?” Daniel leered, and Elliot suddenly wondered if the young man was as wasted as he had first assumed. “You seem to like what I’m doing now.”

“Stop that.” Elliot tried to be forceful. He really did. But at that moment, not even
he
was convinced that he wanted Daniel to stop. It had been a long, long time. “Shit. We’ll be right back,” he told Sheri as he grabbed Daniel’s hand and practically sprinted toward the bathroom, dodging writhing bodies and waiters bearing trays of drinks.

ELLIOT HIT
the bathroom door with such force that it bounced off the inside wall. He virtually dragged Daniel into one of the stalls on the far side of the room. No sooner had Elliot closed and locked the stall door than Daniel had slipped to his knees and exposed Elliot’s considerable erection.

“Been a while, huh?” He smirked up at Elliot.

Elliot didn’t bother to answer as he stared at the graffiti-covered door of the john and willed himself to stay in control at least long enough for the kid to
start
the blowjob. He put his hand on the back of Daniel’s head and pulled him forward. “Stop talking, Darrell.” Elliot kicked a stray piece of toilet paper out of the way and spread his legs a little wider, dropping his pants to the red and gold tiled floor.

“It’s Dan−”

Elliot rammed his hips forward and Daniel got busy with the sudden mouthful, not bothering to correct Elliot on the name, or much of anything else.

ELLIOT THOUGHT
that would be the end of it. He’d be rid of the kid now. Surely that’s what Daniel had been after. He had gotten it, so he’d go on to greener pastures and leave Elliot alone. Right?

Wrong.

Daniel followed Elliot back to the table, where Sheri was now kissing a dark-skinned man while sitting on the lap of a long-haired blond. Both men had a hand up Sheri’s skirt and on the bulge in the front of each other’s pants.

“Ah geez, Cher.” Elliot sighed as he slid into his chair and quickly contemplated the swirled pattern of the fake wood grain on the tabletop. “At least I had the decency to go to the bathroom.”

Sheri flipped him the bird, which he saw out of the corner of his eye, and continued what she was doing.

Daniel took that as permission to grab Elliot’s chin, pull his face around to look at him with brilliant blue eyes, and start kissing him.

“Ah, to hell with it.” Elliot grumbled, scooting his chair around so he could get a better angle, and kissed him back. The DJ changed the music from one loud song to another, and bodies writhed in tempo, with no regard to what was happening around them.

SHERI DIDN’T
take either man with her, but when she and Elliot got up to leave, Daniel followed.

“No way, Darrell.” Elliot pushed him back a little. “I go home alone.”

Daniel clung to Elliot’s neck and asked, “Why would you want to do that? And it’s Daniel.”

Sheri brought the car around while Elliot tried to disengage himself from the kid who, he could swear, had more arms than was usually allotted to human men, even horny ones. When Elliot opened the passenger’s door, Daniel slid in and refused to get out. Elliot dropped his head in defeat and slid in beside him, pushing him to the middle. Sheri giggled again and drove the two to Elliot’s house.

Elliot struggled to find his keys and open the front door. As soon as he got it open, Daniel pushed Elliot inside. He got a sudden pang of wrongness at the thought of having a stranger in this particular house. But he had no idea how to get rid of the man at this point, and since Elliot had endured Daniel’s tortuous hands all the way home, he wasn’t about to stop their progress now. He’d deal with any guilt that might come from it later. Elliot struggled to get to the upstairs bedroom with Daniel clinging to him every step he took. No sooner than they were in the room did the young man start taking off Elliot’s clothes.

“Darrell—”

Daniel kissed him instead of correcting him, and backed him to the bed, stripping Elliot of his shirt and belt. The frayed bedspread wrinkled around him as if welcoming him back, and as Daniel pushed him to his back, the scent of aged mattress and new linen assailed him. Elliot felt another fleeting sense of wrongness but tuned it out. It was a tight fit for two grown men in the smaller-than-normal bed, but at that moment Daniel was more blanket than bed partner.

“Oh, hell no.” He grabbed Daniel’s wrists and flipped them over on the mattress. “If this is going to happen, I sure as hell am not going to be on the bottom.” He quickly slithered out of his jeans and underwear and fell back on the gorgeous, naked morsel waiting for him on the bed.

Daniel leered up at him as if this had been his plan all along. “Good.” He went limp. “Fuck me.”

Elliot had Daniel writhing beneath him in no time. He held his wrists in one hand while he rolled his balls around with the other.

Daniel whimpered. “Get on with it.”

“My bed, my rules.” Elliot continued to tease Daniel. He was ready to start prepping him but thought of something. “Shit. I don’t have any lube or condoms. It’s not like I was planning on this. I was only going to be here for a couple of days.”

Daniel had a hard time catching his breath. “Left… back… pants pocket.”

Elliot let go of Daniel’s wrists to retrieve the kid’s slacks with one hand while still rolling his testicles around in the other. It took longer to find what he wanted that way, but it was worth it to watch Daniel come apart with his ministrations.

“Hurry.” Daniel was panting now, and Elliot hadn’t even started the hard stuff.