CHAPTER EIGHT
"Tonight?"
"Hell yeah. It's Friday. We'll go later. The clubs don't really start to pick up until after ten."
Astonishment nearly bowled me over. I hadn't thought Max would be the excitable club-kid into which he had just transformed. It made a difference, though. The severe frown that he displayed at school was gone, replaced by a bright-eyed smile.
His raw enthusiasm brought me out of my funk and I spoke before I thought. "Sounds great."
Max clapped and did a little dance of victory. The movement of his hips drew my attention to the nice ass and hips hiding under his jeans. I could easily imagine curving my fingers around his pelvis and rubbing his lower back with my thumbs.
Whoa! Down boy!
Suddenly terrified of those thoughts, I hauled my eyes away from temptation, hoping Max hadn't seen me checking him out. He was bent over the counter, reading my Spanish paper, though, so I was in the clear. He had a nervous habit of tucking his hair behind his ear. I watched him do it and smiled. I could get used to looking at this boy on a more regular basis.
When we were done, Max took me upstairs to his room. He began rooting around his drawers and closet until he'd assembled his "club" outfit. Five minutes in the bathroom, and he reemerged like something out of my wet dreams. Dark blue jeans slung low on his hips and a scarlet red, button down shirt that clung to his frame. As he shuffled his hair into place and checked his reflection in the mirror, I asked, "So, what club are we going to? Do they have underage clubs in the city?"
Max laughed. "Not where we're going."
"Max, we'll never get into a club."
He raised one eyebrow and smiled like the devil. "Trust me."
I took my car home to change into something more appropriate for a club. After searching through my drawers and closet—and cursing myself for being such a slob—I was able to pull together a clean pair of nice jeans and a dark blue shirt. The outfit, however, had more wrinkles than a Sharpei puppy.
My parents were watching TV when I came down. My mother asked, "Where are you going? Nowhere in that shirt, I hope."
"I know," I said miserably. "Where's the iron?"
She scoffed. "So you can burn my house down? I'll do it. Take it off. Pants, too."
Stripped down to my boxers, I followed her up to the laundry room. She expertly ironed my shirt as she tried to be sneaky and figure out what the hell I was up to.
"So…is this a date?"
"No, mom," I said with a scowl.
"Who are you going with?"
"His name's Max."
"Is he…like you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, he's gay."
After a few minutes, she handed me my shirt and asked, "Where are you going?"
"Into the city."
"Where in the city?"
"Mom," I warned.
"Fine. I get it. Here are your pants. Should you shave?"
I yanked the pants on and said, "Goodnight, Mom."
"Bring a coat."
"Got one."
"Don't take any pills from anyone."
"Mom!"
"Use protection."
I fled down the stairs and called, "There is such a thing as being too supportive, mom!"
Dad was outside bringing the trash cans in from the curb. I reached for one, but he stopped me. "I think I can handle it for one night, sport."
Max's car pulled into the driveway and I said, "See ya."
"Trace, wait a minute." He took forty dollars from his wallet and said, "Most clubs have cover charges." I blushed, knowing I'd been busted. Dad laughed. "It's fine, Trace. Just don't get drunk. Even if you can trust Max, there will be a lot of men there who won't be interested in your safety."
The fact that my dad was warning me of the dangers of a gay bar was almost comical. I put the cash in my wallet and smiled. "Thanks, Dad. For everything. I love you."
"Love you too, sport. And as patronizing as it may sound, please call me if you need me to—"
"I will. I promise. Gotta go." Mom opened the door, and I hurried to the car before she could try and introduce herself. I shut the door and sighed.
"Hey," Max said, backing out onto the street. "Fun times in Parent-Land?"
I laughed. "My mother had to iron my clothes. And then I went through the Spanish Inquisition. Christ! She even warned me not to take drugs from anyone."
"Have you ever done drugs?" Max asked quietly.
I nodded. "Smoked a joint once with the guys, then got violently sick. They ribbed me about that forever! What about you?"
His mouth twisted to one side. "I took E once. It's not really worth it, though. Yeah, I felt great, but I had no idea what I was doing. I ended up at some orgy."
My mouth dropped open. "No shit! That must've been an experience."
"Don't know," he said. "As soon as I figured out what was going on, I was outta there. It sucked, too, 'cause I had to call Dad to come and get me. When I told him and Mom what happened, Mom went into a big lecture about safe sex and gave me a box of condoms. God, it was so embarrassing."
An image of Max rolling a condom down over his dick popped into my head and fire raced to my groin. I shifted slightly and changed the subject. "So, where are we going? Hopefully nowhere too over-the-top."
Max merged onto the highway and chuckled. "Most gay bars aren't exactly under-the-top, Trace."
"Hell yeah. It's Friday. We'll go later. The clubs don't really start to pick up until after ten."
Astonishment nearly bowled me over. I hadn't thought Max would be the excitable club-kid into which he had just transformed. It made a difference, though. The severe frown that he displayed at school was gone, replaced by a bright-eyed smile.
His raw enthusiasm brought me out of my funk and I spoke before I thought. "Sounds great."
Max clapped and did a little dance of victory. The movement of his hips drew my attention to the nice ass and hips hiding under his jeans. I could easily imagine curving my fingers around his pelvis and rubbing his lower back with my thumbs.
Whoa! Down boy!
Suddenly terrified of those thoughts, I hauled my eyes away from temptation, hoping Max hadn't seen me checking him out. He was bent over the counter, reading my Spanish paper, though, so I was in the clear. He had a nervous habit of tucking his hair behind his ear. I watched him do it and smiled. I could get used to looking at this boy on a more regular basis.
When we were done, Max took me upstairs to his room. He began rooting around his drawers and closet until he'd assembled his "club" outfit. Five minutes in the bathroom, and he reemerged like something out of my wet dreams. Dark blue jeans slung low on his hips and a scarlet red, button down shirt that clung to his frame. As he shuffled his hair into place and checked his reflection in the mirror, I asked, "So, what club are we going to? Do they have underage clubs in the city?"
Max laughed. "Not where we're going."
"Max, we'll never get into a club."
He raised one eyebrow and smiled like the devil. "Trust me."
********************
I took my car home to change into something more appropriate for a club. After searching through my drawers and closet—and cursing myself for being such a slob—I was able to pull together a clean pair of nice jeans and a dark blue shirt. The outfit, however, had more wrinkles than a Sharpei puppy.
My parents were watching TV when I came down. My mother asked, "Where are you going? Nowhere in that shirt, I hope."
"I know," I said miserably. "Where's the iron?"
She scoffed. "So you can burn my house down? I'll do it. Take it off. Pants, too."
Stripped down to my boxers, I followed her up to the laundry room. She expertly ironed my shirt as she tried to be sneaky and figure out what the hell I was up to.
"So…is this a date?"
"No, mom," I said with a scowl.
"Who are you going with?"
"His name's Max."
"Is he…like you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, he's gay."
After a few minutes, she handed me my shirt and asked, "Where are you going?"
"Into the city."
"Where in the city?"
"Mom," I warned.
"Fine. I get it. Here are your pants. Should you shave?"
I yanked the pants on and said, "Goodnight, Mom."
"Bring a coat."
"Got one."
"Don't take any pills from anyone."
"Mom!"
"Use protection."
I fled down the stairs and called, "There is such a thing as being too supportive, mom!"
Dad was outside bringing the trash cans in from the curb. I reached for one, but he stopped me. "I think I can handle it for one night, sport."
Max's car pulled into the driveway and I said, "See ya."
"Trace, wait a minute." He took forty dollars from his wallet and said, "Most clubs have cover charges." I blushed, knowing I'd been busted. Dad laughed. "It's fine, Trace. Just don't get drunk. Even if you can trust Max, there will be a lot of men there who won't be interested in your safety."
The fact that my dad was warning me of the dangers of a gay bar was almost comical. I put the cash in my wallet and smiled. "Thanks, Dad. For everything. I love you."
"Love you too, sport. And as patronizing as it may sound, please call me if you need me to—"
"I will. I promise. Gotta go." Mom opened the door, and I hurried to the car before she could try and introduce herself. I shut the door and sighed.
"Hey," Max said, backing out onto the street. "Fun times in Parent-Land?"
I laughed. "My mother had to iron my clothes. And then I went through the Spanish Inquisition. Christ! She even warned me not to take drugs from anyone."
"Have you ever done drugs?" Max asked quietly.
I nodded. "Smoked a joint once with the guys, then got violently sick. They ribbed me about that forever! What about you?"
His mouth twisted to one side. "I took E once. It's not really worth it, though. Yeah, I felt great, but I had no idea what I was doing. I ended up at some orgy."
My mouth dropped open. "No shit! That must've been an experience."
"Don't know," he said. "As soon as I figured out what was going on, I was outta there. It sucked, too, 'cause I had to call Dad to come and get me. When I told him and Mom what happened, Mom went into a big lecture about safe sex and gave me a box of condoms. God, it was so embarrassing."
An image of Max rolling a condom down over his dick popped into my head and fire raced to my groin. I shifted slightly and changed the subject. "So, where are we going? Hopefully nowhere too over-the-top."
Max merged onto the highway and chuckled. "Most gay bars aren't exactly under-the-top, Trace."
****************************************
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