Dressed to Thrill

Dressed to Thrill

Kimberly Gardner

Dressed to Thrill Copyright © April 2011 by Kimberly Gardner All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. eISBN 978-1-60737-992-8 Editor: Crystal Esau Cover Artist: Marci Gass Printed in the United States of America

Published by Loose Id LLC PO Box 425960 San Francisco CA 94142-5960 www.loose-id.com This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter One “I‟ll have another one of those,” Oliver said. He angled his head toward the empty margarita glass on the table in front of him. “Rocks and salt?” The waitress had to yell to be heard over the music. Oliver nodded, and she scooped up his empty before hurrying away. He let his gaze wander the crowded club. All the nearby tables were full. Couples, many of them male, leaned in toward each other, laughing and talking, as they yelled directly into each other‟s ears to be heard over the music blaring from giant speakers on either side of the stage. As Oliver watched, a blond kid who didn‟t look old enough to order a beer legally leaned in and laid a smacking kiss on the lips of his silver-haired companion. It was no little peck either, but an extended lip-lock that brought heat to Oliver‟s cheeks and a rush of envy so strong he had to turn away. That should be Jonathan and him, sitting together all cozied up at one of the round tables, exchanging stolen kisses and covert gropes. If Jonathan hadn‟t turned out to be such a lying, cheating bastard. The waitress appeared with his fresh margarita. She slid the glass in front of him and leaned in. “You want to run a tab?” Did he? Was he going to be here long enough for that? What the hell? “Sure,” Oliver shouted over the techno-dancified version of “Venus” currently blasting through the club. But as the waitress turned, he waved to get her attention. She lifted one dark brow. “What time is the show?”

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She pointed to her watch. “Soon.” Oliver‟s attention was drawn back to the couple at the next table. The angle was just right for him to see the older guy‟s hand slip into Blondie‟s lap. And the smile curving the younger man‟s lips told him precisely what that hand must be doing. The older guy looked sort of like Jonathan, or the way Jonathan might look in twenty years. But in Oliver‟s opinion, the twink didn‟t resemble himself at all. Actually, he looked kind of like Jonathan‟s twink, the kid Jon had supposedly been tutoring. Yeah, tutoring, sure. And what was worse, he had believed that lame-ass lie. Oliver picked up his glass and glugged down a huge swallow. He was not going to think about that asshole anymore. He was in beautiful Key West, the Mecca of gay spring breakers everywhere, and damn it, he was going to enjoy himself. And if he was lucky and his interviews went well, he would be leaving at the end of the week with the promise of a job after graduation. “Here‟s to me,” Oliver said and raised his glass in a solitary toast just as the lights came up on the stage and the music changed. The woman…man…drag queen who slinked onto the stage was tall and slender with a mass of wildly curling hair spilling down her back. Her dress was made of some red shimmery stuff and clung to her lithe body. She sashayed to the microphone, picked it up, and purred in a sexy contralto, “How y‟all doing tonight?” The audience went crazy. Whistles, catcalls, and applause grew in volume until they nearly drowned out the music. What the heck was he doing here, in a drag bar watching this gender-bending beauty—because she was a beauty—flirt and flash long bare leg and seduce the crowd of primarily gay men? He wasn‟t into drag queens or cross-dressers. He should go to the strip club across the street and watch the boys dance while he got trashed.

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Except Dante, the guy who worked at the guesthouse where he was staying, had said Mango Mango was the hottest club in town, the place to go for good drinks, a good show, and maybe even a hook-up. And there was something about that sequin-clad figure up on stage that drew his eye, something that made it hard to look away. The drag queen, Faith Cummings—Oliver let out a snort of laughter at that— had begun to dance to an ancient Cher song that sounded like Cher and not like Cher, since it wasn‟t actually Cher doing the singing, only a Cher sound-alike. But Faith wasn‟t singing either, only lip-synching the words as she slithered and pranced around the stage. Hell, she probably couldn‟t sing at all. She probably had a voice like a bullfrog despite the beautiful face and killer body. Still, Oliver didn‟t get up and leave. Still his attention remained riveted on the sexy queen as she swirled her skirt and flashed leg through the thigh-high slits. He remained that way, essentially mesmerized, through her entire routine. As she moved from one song to the next, Oliver found himself leaning forward, his drink forgotten on the table as he hung on her every gesture. She was so glamorous, so sexy, so…fascinating. “Now don‟t y‟all forget to tip your waiters and waitresses,” Faith sang out. She strutted to the stage steps that would bring her down into the audience right beside Oliver‟s table. “And your gratuities are always appreciated by the entertainers. That would be me.” As she floated down the steps on her high skinny heels, Oliver grabbed a dollar from the scattering of change left on the table from his first drink. He picked up the pen lying next to the e-mail sign-up card, and without stopping to think too hard about what he was doing or what it might mean, he scribbled his number on the back of the dollar and held it up where she would be sure to see. She did and danced over to him. But rather than lean in so he could slide the bill into her fake cleavage as she‟d done with other patrons, Faith swung one long, gorgeous leg across Oliver‟s lap and straddled him.

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The people at the tables around them hooted and whistled and cheered as the drag queen rocked forward, bringing the two of them crotch to crotch. Oliver inhaled. Under her perfume, her scent was a little hot, a little sweaty, and more than a little male. Mmm. Oliver‟s face flushed hot, his heart began to pound, and his dick twitched and began to fill. Faith leaned forward, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her scarlet mouth to his. As she parted his lips with her tongue, she rocked against him, letting him feel the hard length of what was most definitely a nice-sized cock. She ground their hips together, creating the most delicious friction of cock against cock. Oliver groaned into her—no, his—mouth and tried to pull that amazing body closer and keep the contact going. But the fantasy in his arms drew back and smiled at him with red-smeared lips before sliding off his lap and fading into the crowd, leaving him there with an aching hard-on and a dollar with his own phone number clutched in his hand.

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Chapter Two The screen door on the tiny office banged open. Drew glanced up from the bicycle tire he was patching and let out a silent whistle. Ooo, baby! From where he sat at the workbench in the garage, he had a perfect view into the rental office of We Be Bikin‟, the Key West bicycle rental business he ran for his parents, who were still at home in Maryland. Hez, the kid who sometimes helped out during the busy season, had yet to arrive, so the office was empty. Empty save for the most gorgeous specimen of college-boy good looks Drew had seen in a long time. Which was saying something considering this was spring break in Key West, and Drew had seen some sizzling hot man flesh around town over the last few days. God, how he loved spring-break week! He let his gaze slide down the athletic body from the broad shoulders to the narrow waist, slim hips, and very fine ass, then even farther down the mostly bare and very tan legs lightly dusted with sandy brown hair. Mmm. He could so imagine his legs wrapped around that waist as College Boy pounded him through the mattress. Except this one had straight boy written all over him. But then again, Key West was the gay spring-break Mecca, so what were the odds? Drew grinned. Maybe this particular hottie just hadn‟t met the right guy yet. Maybe he could be the right guy. Laying the tire aside, he slid off his stool and sauntered into the office.

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“Can I help you?” Drew smiled his very best, not quite professional smile, the one that got him laid pretty much whenever he wanted. And right now he definitely wanted. “Oh, hey.” College Boy turned from where he‟d been reading a flyer advertising the local spring-break events. That was when ooo baby turned to oh shit in the space of a heartbeat. It was the guy from the club last night, the one Drew had kissed while wearing his drag-queen getup. And oh, that had been sweet. In fact, he could have happily stayed right there in the blond Adonis‟s lap all night, especially after he‟d felt the very special treat hidden in Blondie‟s cargo shorts. And now here was his fair-haired god, standing in the rental office, big as life and twice as gorgeous as Drew remembered. They stood there for one frozen moment and stared at each other, Drew hardly daring to breathe. Did the kid recognize him from last night? No, he couldn‟t possibly know, Drew comforted himself even as heat rose to his cheeks. After all, how many of his friends had told him he looked like a completely different person on stage? Hell, he was a completely different person. He was Faith Cummings. And he was meticulous about never letting Faith herself, or her antics, cross over into his actual life. “What‟s the matter?” Blondie asked. “Do I have something hanging from my nose or something?” Oh get a grip. Drew gave himself a hard mental shake and forced a laugh. “No, it‟s nothing. I was just…” He shook his head and let the sentence hang unfinished. “Can I help you?” “I‟d like to rent a bike.”

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Blondie‟s hair was cut in one of those shaggy, this-is-not-an-expensive-haircut haircuts. And the color, which Drew had first taken for a sort of dirty blond, was, upon closer examination, every color from deep chestnut near the roots to sundipped gold at the ends. For a moment Drew let himself imagine running his fingers through that luxurious mop as he fed his cock inch by inch into College Boy‟s pretty mouth. And the boy would be into it too, if last night‟s hard-on was any indication. “Well, that‟s handy, then, because bikes we got. How long do you want it?” Drew slipped behind the counter and reached for a rental form. “How long can I have it?” I got one that’s just the right length for you, babe. “You can have it for a day or a week.” Drew shrugged. “Or basically, as long as you want.” “A week would be good.” “You here on break?” He nodded. “Till Saturday.” Drew slid the form across the counter. “I‟ll need you to fill this out. Name, address where you‟re staying, and a cell-phone number. Then I‟ll need to see your license and a credit card for the deposit.” “Do you have a pen?” Drew grabbed one from the cup under the counter and held it out. When College Boy took it, their fingers brushed. Drew‟s dick stiffened. Thank God for the counter between them. His snugfitting cutoffs weren‟t up to hiding this degree of interest. He watched as College Boy filled out the form. God, even his hands were sexy, long-fingered with a light sprinkling of gilded hairs on the backs. As he wrote, Drew followed along upside down. “Your name‟s really Oliver?”

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“Yeah. You can call me Ollie, though. Most people do.” He signed the form, then pushed it and the pen back across the counter before reaching for his wallet and extracting a credit card and driver‟s license. He held out the cards. “And what can I call you?” Drew lifted his gaze and met Oliver‟s melt-you-in-your-sneakers blue eyes. “I‟m Drew Lee.” “Yeah? You don‟t look like a Drew. You look sort of exotic. Where‟d you get a name like Drew?” “Same place you got a name like Oliver, I imagine.” “Really? You mean we have the same parents? Funny, I don‟t remember ever running into you at the breakfast table.” Drew laughed. Oh man, not only pretty but with a sense of humor too. He so wanted this one naked and moaning under, or on top of, but very definitely inside him before the week, or maybe even the day, was done. “If you got a breakfast table, maybe we can fix that.” Oliver‟s grin flashed. Oh my God, look at those dimples! Drew entertained a brief fantasy in which he stuck his tongue in each of those dimples as well as any others he might find on this boy. Before he could get too carried away, he picked up Oliver‟s rental form and slipped it into the standing file he kept for current rentals. As he turned back around, Oliver quickly glanced away. College Boy was checking him out. Hmm, definitely interested, then. It must be his lucky day. Hopefully there was a lot more luck in store for him. “The bikes are around back. Come with me.” Drew gestured for Oliver to follow and led the way through to the garage, where he brought out a bike, midnight blue with white racing stripes. “This one okay?”

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Oliver nodded. “Try it. Make sure it‟s the right height.” Oliver threw one leg over the bike and perched experimentally on the seat. Oh, what he wouldn‟t give right then to be that seat, tucked up all cozy between those strong thighs. Drew held up a wrench. “Need me to adjust your seat?” Oliver laughed, his teeth very white in his tan face. “You can adjust my seat anytime, Drew. Though you might want to use a different tool for the adjustment.” Drew‟s head spun as all the blood rushed from his brain to his dick, and what was polite interest only a moment ago suddenly became a raging hard-on. Oliver knew it too. He let his gaze slide down Drew‟s body and linger at his crotch as he licked his lips. Oh yeah! “See something you like?” Oliver blushed, his face going beet red beneath his tan, and he looked away. It was totally adorable and only made Drew want him more. “I, uh…” Oliver stammered. “Hey, it‟s all good,” Drew said. “If you‟re not into it—” “No, I am. I mean, yeah, I do, see something I like.” Oliver met Drew‟s gaze and held it despite that he was still blushing. “Could I maybe take you out tonight?” “I‟ve got to work tonight.” “Do you rent many bikes at night?” Drew laughed. “I work in a bar at night.” Oliver seemed to relax. His grin reappeared. “What a coincidence. I drink in a bar at night. Maybe we could make it the same bar.” Not likely. He doubted Oliver was ready to meet Faith up close and personal, and he so did not want to scare him away.

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Drew hesitated. “If you‟d rather not—” “No, I‟d like that. I was just…thinking, is all. I really can‟t hang out while I‟m working, but I get off at eleven, and I could meet you when I‟m done.” “Where at?” “How about if I call you?” “Sure. You want my number?” “I‟ve got it on the rental form, remember?” “Oh, yeah. Duh.” Oliver blushed. “Can I have yours?” Drew searched the pockets of his shorts for something to write on and came up empty. “You don‟t have a pen or anything, do you?” Oliver shook his head. “Not on me.” “C‟mon inside for a minute. I‟ve got pen and paper in there.” When Oliver hesitated Drew added, “You can leave the bike there. Nobody‟ll bother it.” Back in the office, Drew reached under the counter. Grabbing a pad of paper, he straightened and turned and bumped solidly into Oliver. He‟d joined Drew behind the counter and was standing way up in his personal space. Not that it was a problem. Not at all. Drew inhaled the scents of sunscreen and light sweat. It was intoxicating, and his head spun. He swayed. Oliver steadied him with a hand to the small of his back. “Easy there. You okay? I didn‟t mean to scare you.” “Yeah? What did you mean?” Oliver‟s gaze dropped to Drew‟s mouth and lingered. He said nothing as he seared Drew‟s lips with that hot blue gaze. Dropping the paper to the floor, Drew grabbed the front of Oliver‟s T-shirt and yanked him in for a kiss.

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Their mouths came together so hard their teeth clicked. And then they were kissing—lips clinging, tongues sliding, teeth nipping—the contact hot and urgent and even more thrilling than Drew remembered from the club. Oliver pulled him close, molding their bodies together, a leg sliding between Drew‟s thighs and pressing against his crotch. Drew rocked against Oliver‟s leg and shoved his hands under the soft cotton of his shirt. His back was warm and smooth, the skin slightly damp with sweat. He scraped his nails down Oliver‟s back. Oliver moaned into Drew‟s mouth, then pressed him back against the metal filing cabinet. The drawer handles dug painfully into Drew‟s back and ass, but he didn‟t care. He was too caught up with Oliver‟s hands and mouth and the hard cock pushing against his belly as they tried to climb inside each other‟s skin. Who knew how far things might have gone if, just then, a sound hadn‟t interrupted them? “Ahem.” Barely suppressing his irritation, Drew took a step back and turned to the newcomer. There were two of them actually, a couple of girls. They were young, tanned, and attractive. They also appeared to be a couple, if their body language was any indication. The way they looked at each other, the closeness of their bodies as they regarded Oliver and him, spoke of a relationship that went beyond friendly. “What can I do for you, ladies?” Drew asked. “You can go ahead and jump him, if that‟s what you were about to do,” the blonde said with a wide grin. “Yeah, don‟t let us stop you,” her brunette girlfriend added. “We can wait.” “And watch,” the blonde said. Drew laughed, and so did Oliver, though he also flushed crimson up to the tips of his ears.

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The girls wanted a couple of bikes for the day, to bike around the island, they said. Drew did the paperwork with the blonde while Oliver helped the brunette find a bike that suited her very long legs. As the girls peddled away, Drew turned to Oliver and draped an arm over his shoulders. “How about I jump you now?” “That sounds like a hell of a good suggestion,” Oliver said. “But I really have to go. I have a…thing I have to get to.” “A thing?” “Yeah, an appointment.” “Okay. Hang on. I‟ll walk you out.” Drew followed Oliver back to the garage where the bike lay on its side in the gravel. “So where shall I meet you tonight? We‟re still good for tonight, right?” Oliver picked up the bike, slung one leg over, and propped his foot on the pedal. “Definitely,” Drew said. “I‟ll call you.” “Okay, I‟ll see you tonight, then.” “Yeah, see you.” Drew watched Oliver pedal away, admiring how the muscles in his thighs stood out and the way that gorgeous ass perched on the bicycle seat. Oh yeah, he was so going to see more of this boy, a lot more.

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Chapter Three Oliver slowed the bike as the club came into view and thought about the black leather rosebud in his backpack. He‟d bought it on a crazy impulse from the leather shop down the street, already knowing on some level what he meant to do with it. Not that it made it any easier to believe he was actually doing this. Even from half a block away, he could see the drag queen standing outside the entrance to Mango Mango was not the one who had kissed him. This queen was tall, probably well over six feet, with Marilyn Monroe hair and a dress made of some shimmery material that might have been blue or green. It was hard to tell from that distance, and the material seemed to change hue with her every movement. She was talking to a group of three young guys, none of whom looked old enough to get into a club. She said something, and the boys laughed. Pulling something out of her cleavage, she handed it to the boy in the center, kissed his cheek, and patted his ass, which spawned more laughter, and sent them on their way. Part of Oliver sighed with relief that the drag queen was not Faith, the part that couldn‟t or wouldn‟t understand the attraction that had brought him here in the middle of the day looking for a sexy man in a sparkly dress. But another part, the part ruled by attraction, understood or not, felt the full impact of disappointment like a punch to the gut. Still he pedaled closer, not sure what he meant to say, not even sure he would stop, but feeling the magnetism of the attraction all the same. Oliver swerved the bike toward the side of the street opposite Mango Mango and braked.

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For the moment the blond drag queen stood alone on the sidewalk in front of the club. He watched her walk a few paces to a store front and check her reflection in the window glass. If he was going to talk to her, to ask about Faith, now was the time. Screwing up his courage, Oliver got off the bike, locked it to a nearby rack, and got himself moving in her direction. When he was still a good fifteen feet away, and just as he‟d begun to question the wisdom of what he was doing, the drag queen turned from the window and saw him. He could tell the exact moment she spotted him, because her face transformed, assuming a flirtatious smile and a come-hither expression, which, even though she wasn‟t the one he‟d come for, made his heart race and sweat break out on his palms. “Hey there, gorgeous, you want a pass for tonight‟s show?” She waved a peachcolored ticket at him. He stopped and out of sheer politeness accepted the ticket from her. “I saw the show last night. You were terrific. I loved the pirate number.” It was just the right thing to say. “Why thank you, sweetie. Aren‟t you the silver-tongue devil?” She beamed and fluttered her lashes. Oliver smiled up at her, as she was a good six or eight inches taller than him. “It‟s Samantha, right?” She nodded. “It is indeed, the one and only.” He peered past her into the club‟s dim interior. “Are you open, right now, I mean?” “You mean me personally or the club?” She winked. Oliver grinned even as his cheeks heated with embarrassment. “The club actually.” “No, we don‟t open until later. could—” “Do you know the other, uh…”

But if you‟d like to make a reservation, I

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“Performer?” she suggested. “Yeah, the one with the long dark hair. I think her name is Faith or something.” “I do. She and I are like this.” Samantha held up two fingers to show how close the two of them were. Oliver‟s mouth felt dry as dust. He scraped his tongue over his parched lips and somehow managed to get his next question out. “Is she here, by any chance?” Samantha‟s impeccably shaped brows rose, but she shook her head. “When it‟s not her day to work the sidewalk, she gets in around seven. Are you a friend of hers?” Oliver‟s hesitation must have been all the answer she needed. She smiled knowingly. “No, but you‟d like to be, wouldn‟t you?” Oliver glanced around. The midday sun beat down, hot and bright. He imagined he could feel his brain frying under its relentless rays. Sweat trickled down his back and pooled under the waistband of his shorts. “I‟m, uh, not into women.” “Oh, honey, I can see that. But Faith is no more woman than I am, or you are for that matter. Come with me.” Samantha inclined her head toward the shadowy interior of the club. Though the door stood open, it looked pretty quiet inside. What did she want with him? After only the smallest hesitation, he followed her. The dim and cool interior was a relief after the brilliance of the day. “You want to sit?” Without waiting for an answer, Samantha wrapped an arm around his shoulders and steered him over to a table. Hooking a chair with her foot, she dragged it out and pushed him into it. “I don‟t know what—” Oliver began.

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Samantha held up a hand. “Listen to me, sweetheart. Just because a boy wears a dress doesn‟t make him any less a boy, or you any less gay for being attracted to him.” “But transvestites aren‟t—” “I‟m not a tranny, hon. Faith‟s not one either. She wears women‟s clothes only when she‟s on stage. And she‟s all boy under her skirt. Trust me on this.” “Then why—” “You‟ll have to ask her yourself. But my point is you shouldn‟t be so freaked because you‟re attracted. Your body knows what your head doesn‟t want to accept. It‟s as simple as that.” “I guess.” “No. The correct answer is, of course, „you‟re absolutely right, Samantha.‟” She pointed a scarlet-tipped nail at him. “Now you.” He laughed. He couldn‟t help it. “You‟re absolutely right, Samantha.” “Good. Now, you write Faith a note, and I‟ll give it to her when she gets here. How does that sound, hmm?” “Actually, I brought her something.” Oliver lifted his backpack from the floor, opened it, and carefully removed the black leather rosebud. He held it out to Samantha. “Would you mind giving this to her?” “Ooo, very romantic, and kinky too. You want to write her a note to go with it?” “Um, not really.” For a moment he was sure she was going to give him a hard time, but then she smiled. “Oh, I get it. You want to be a man of mystery.” He nodded. “Something like that.” “Gotcha. But you are going to be at the show tonight, right?” “I‟ll be here.” “All rightee, then. I guess we‟re done here.”

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“I guess.” Recognizing his cue to get going, Oliver stood and pushed in his chair. Samantha turned in a swirl of blue-green skirts, and Oliver followed her back into the sunshine. As he pedaled back to the house, Samantha‟s words replayed over and over in Oliver‟s head. “Doesn’t make her any less a boy or you any less gay for being attracted to her.” But was she right? Or had Jonathan been right when he‟d accused Oliver of only playing at being gay because he wasn‟t ready to let Jonathan fuck him? They‟d done plenty of other things—handjobs and blowjobs and lots of making out. But when push came to shove, Oliver hadn‟t been ready for what Jonathan called “The Real Deal.” At the time he‟d told himself it didn‟t matter; he wasn‟t sure of Jonathan. But what if it was more than that? And now, with this weird attraction… But never mind. He was overthinking things as usual, and he had plenty of other stuff to think about, more important stuff. Oliver slowed the bike as he turned on to William Street, and the guesthouse came into view. Shoving away all thoughts of his now ex-boyfriend, Oliver turned his attention to what he would wear for his date. What would it be like to go out with Drew? To have those hands on him? That mouth on him? And maybe that cock inside him? He couldn‟t explain his sudden willingness, even eagerness, to sleep with Drew, given how long and how strenuously he‟d held Jonathan off. Maybe it was spite, a serves-him-right sort of thing. Except no, it didn‟t feel that way. He hadn‟t been ready when Jon was. It was as simple and as complicated as that. And given the way their relationship had fallen apart under the pressure, Oliver was glad they hadn‟t taken that step.

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As he stood the bike on its kickstand, Oliver entertained a brief fantasy in which he went to bed with the sexy boy from the bike rental place. But as he tried to conjure Drew‟s image in his head, the pictures got all mixed up, and he found himself thinking once again of the drag queen with her slender graceful body, her long legs, and her hard cock. Except he was so not going to bed with Faith Cummings. That was just not going to happen. Leaving the bike inside the front gate, Oliver mounted the steps, already digging in his pocket for the key to his room. Masculine voices and laughter floated down the hall. A shiver of unwelcome recognition crept down his spine, and he paused inside the open front door to listen. He knew that laugh. It couldn‟t be. He waited, holding his breath, for proof of what he already knew in his gut to be true. The voice came again. “You don‟t need to walk me up. I‟m sure I can find it.” “It‟s part of my job,” Dante said. He appeared in the office doorway. Behind him a tall, dark-haired and all too familiar figure appeared. Jonathan. There was no time to duck out, and even if there was, Oliver felt rooted to the spot, as unable to flee as the umbrella stand in the corner. Jonathan‟s gaze found him, and a smile curved his sensual mouth. “Hey, babe. Surprise!” “What the hell are you doing here?” Jonathan‟s smiled never dimmed. “I‟m here for spring break, just like you.” “And you‟re staying here, in this house?” “Even better, I‟m staying with you.”

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Chapter Four As Drew walked into Mango Mango around five that afternoon, he hummed the tune of the new song he would introduce into his show that night. It was a gypsy number, and he had the perfect dress covered in a plastic cleaner bag and slung over one shoulder. Because it was still relatively early, the club was quiet, the bartenders and waitstaff in the last phases of prepping for the evening. As he passed the bar, Drew sent Shane a wave. The bartender was a friend of his and one of the first people he‟d met when he moved to Key West right after graduation nearly a year ago. Shane waved back and pointed at the dress Drew carried on a hanger over one shoulder. “Nice,” he mouthed, then crooked a finger. “That‟s some dress,” Shane said when Drew joined him at the bar. “You like it?” Drew held it up so Shane could get a better look. “It‟s for Faith‟s new number.” The bartender nodded as he continued to polish the glass in his hand. “Sexy. You‟ll have ‟em coming in their pants.” Drew grinned. “Not me, man. Faith.” “Whatever you say, dude.” Shane set the glass down beside the others, picked up a rag, and began to wipe down the already spotless bar. “Ms. Cummings sure knows how to package her wares, though.” “I‟ll be sure and tell her you said so.”

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“Speaking of which.” Shane reached under the bar and produced a newspaper. He slapped it on the bar. “Nice pic of you in the article.” “What art—Oh.” Drew stared at the full-page photograph of Faith in all her feathered and sequined glory. “I forgot that article was coming out this week.” The local paper was running a series of articles on the club scene, spotlighting a different club every week with a rundown on what made the featured hotspot special and unique. Of course for Mango Mango, the reporter had concentrated on the drag shows. “You haven‟t seen it yet?” Shane asked. Drew shook his head. “Not yet. Is it good?” “See for yourself.” Shane pushed the paper across the bar. “Randy already put a copy up on the board out front.” Drew snorted a laugh. “Yeah, he would. You sure you don‟t mind if I take this copy?” “Go ahead. I already read it. Besides, nobody took my picture for the front page.” “Yeah, well, maybe if you wore a dress while you worked the bar…” “Shhh, don‟t let Randy hear you. He‟ll start getting ideas.” “Is he around?” “Yeah, he‟s in the office. But I think there‟s somebody in there with him.” “Who?” Shane shrugged. “No clue. Some little hottie. Looks just like Randy‟s type. I didn‟t get his name, though.” Drew grinned. He knew exactly what Shane meant by “Randy‟s type.” He didn‟t even have to see the guy to know what he would look like. “Hmm, no big.” Drew picked up the paper and, after hooking the hanger over one finger, headed for the office.

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Just as he reached the short hallway leading to the kitchen, storerooms and the manager‟s office, the first door on the left opened, and a dark-haired young man emerged, followed closely by Randy wearing his patented I‟m-the-club-manager smile. The kid must be interviewing for a job. Randy had a hand on the dark-haired kid‟s shoulder and was laughing at something, a big hearty ha-ha-ha Drew knew to be totally fake. “Hey, Drew, glad you‟re here.” The hand dropped away, and Randy didn‟t meet Drew‟s eyes. Uh-oh. That was not a good sign. “I‟d like you to meet Danny Soul,” Randy said. “Danny, this is Drew Lee. He‟s our star drag queen.” The kid‟s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. “You‟re Faith Cummings? Really?” Drew nodded. The kid had pretty eyes, big and blue and fringed with thick dark lashes. “Wow, I‟ve seen your show, and I have to tell you, I think you‟re totally amazing.” “Yeah, thanks. Appreciate it.” Drew felt the smile break across his face, the flush of pride and pleasure unmistakable. “That‟s a terrific article.” Danny gestured at the paper Drew held. “I love the pic of you.” The kid‟s face flushed. “God, sorry, I don‟t mean to go all fanboy on you. I just love Faith so much. She‟s so amazing. Really.” “Thanks,” Drew said again. He shifted his attention back to Randy. “What‟s the matter with you?” “Me? Nothing. I‟m good. It‟s all good.” Yeah, riiiight. Something was very definitely up, but what?

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“So I guess I‟ll see you guys next Tuesday, then.” Danny favored Drew with a dazzling smile before turning back to Randy. “Unless there was something else you needed from me.” “Nope, not a thing.” Randy clapped Danny on the shoulder. “Take it easy, and we‟ll see you then.” Drew and Randy watched in silence as Danny wound his way through the scattering of tables toward the exit. The kid—he couldn‟t be more than twenty-one—was slim and very nearly pretty in an androgynous way. In fact, with some eye makeup, a bit of color on his cheeks and lips, and a slinky dress, not unlike the one Drew held in his hand at that very moment… Yeah, the kid was Randy‟s type, all right. “Mm-mm, that is a mighty fine looking boy, if I do say so.” Randy sighed gustily and rubbed a hand over his heart. Cripes, it was like Randy had read his mind. “Bet he looks amazing in a dress and heels.” Randy shrugged. “I suppose, sure.” Huh, no reaction. That was weird. “I guess we‟ll find out soon enough.” Drew shifted the hanger to his opposite hand. “Where are you putting him in the show? Randy studied his fingernails and didn‟t answer for a long moment. At last he said, “Danny‟s not a drag queen, technically speaking.” “What do you mean?” Randy mumbled something, glanced up then away. “Is that the dress for the Gypsy number?” “Yeah, it is. But quit trying to change the subject. Is he in the show or not? And if not, then what did you hire him for?”

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“No, he‟s not technically in the show.” The cell phone clipped to Randy‟s belt trilled. He put a hand to it, tilting it up and peering at the display. “Oh, shit, baby, I need to take this—” “No, you don‟t.” Drew grabbed Randy by the sleeve of his lemon-colored silk shirt. “I asked you a question, Randy. What did you hire him for?” “Careful, sweetie. I just got this shirt.” Randy tried to pull free, finally managed it, and took a step back as if he meant to retreat into the office. Most of the old-time drag queens had done their own singing. A few still did, but those days were over. These days practically everything was lip-synch, and that wasn‟t what Drew wanted. It wasn‟t enough to satisfy his performer‟s heart. Drew followed Randy. “You hired him to sing. I can see it. It‟s all over your face. He‟s the new female impersonator, isn‟t he? The spot you promised to me.” “It‟s not like that.” Randy reached behind him, opened the door to the office, and backed inside. “No? Then what‟s it like?” “Drew—” Randy tried to shove the door closed, but Drew shouldered his way into the office, then kicked it shut after him. “You prick! You said when Lyle left, I could have that spot on Tuesday and Thursday, I could quit the drag show and sing. That‟s what you said. You promised.” Randy backed around the desk. “I said we‟d talk about it. I never promised—” “Bullshit.” Drew stalked him. “That is not what you said. And even if it was, which it wasn‟t, we didn‟t talk about it. You just went and hired pretty-boy Danny to sing in my place. You are such a lying asshole.” “I am not. I never promised you that spot. And wait till you hear the kid sing. He‟s amazing.” “I don‟t care if he‟s the next Barbra Streisand.” “Calm down, will you? Don‟t go all screaming queen on me, sweetheart.”

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Drew opened his mouth to tell him what he could do with his screaming-queen comment, but Randy rolled right over him. “Listen, baby, you know how important you are around here, how before we hired you, we were on the verge of shutting the doors for good, and now Faith‟s got ‟em lining up.” “Yeah, Faith, not me.” Randy rolled his eyes heavenward. “I don‟t know why you insist on making that silly distinction. Faith Cummings wouldn‟t exist without you, and without her, you‟d be stuck running that little bike shop across town. But you‟re not. You‟re a star, baby, and the audiences adore you. You‟re a born performer, and we‟d be totally screwed without your pretty face in the place.” “But Randy, I want to perform as myself. I want my name on the bill, not Faith‟s, mine. And I want to sing, not lip-synch. You know that. You‟ve always known it.” And that was what stung the worst—Randy knew about Drew‟s dream and had encouraged him. And yeah, Randy had promised to help him make his dream come true. “Listen, baby—” “I don‟t want to listen.” Drew turned away. He did not want Randy to see how disappointed he was. “I should fucking quit.” “Will you wait one damn minute?” Randy caught Drew‟s arm and spun him around. “Don‟t.” “Don‟t my ass. I know how much you wanted that slot. I do. And I know how good you are. But I also know drag is not your cuppa, that you‟re only doing it until something better comes along. And trust me, sweetheart, something will come along, something better than wasting your talent in this dump.”

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“So… What? You‟re saying you didn‟t give me the job because I‟m too good for this place? Are you kidding?” Randy nodded. “Well, yes, but not only that.” “What, then?” He could not believe he was listening to this bullshit. “I sort of „had to‟ hire Danny.” Randy made air quotes around the words had to. “You see, Danny is Gregory‟s… You know?” “No, I don‟t know. Spell it out for me.” Gregory was the longtime owner of Mango Mango, a silver-haired bear whose taste for pretty young things was nothing short of legend among his employees and friends. Randy sighed as if he were the most put-upon man on the island. “Apparently the two of them met in Fort Lauderdale when Gregory was up there a month or two ago. They hit it off, and when he came back, he brought Danny with him.” “So you‟re telling me I lost out to Gregory‟s latest fuck boy?” “You know it won‟t last,” Randy said, avoiding the question. “They never do. Gregory will get bored like he always does and send the kid home. Then, once he‟s gone—” “Wait.” Drew raised his hand. “Don‟t make promises you can‟t keep. We‟ve been down that road, and I‟m not going there again.” “Oh, baby.” Randy reached out and cupped Drew‟s cheek. Drew slapped the hand away and stepped back. He was so not doing this. “Don‟t.” “C‟mon, sweetheart. You wouldn‟t quit on me, would you?” Drew opened his mouth to say he damn well would. But before he could, someone knocked on the office door. The door opened, and Shane poked his head in. “Call for you at the bar, Randy.”

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“I‟ll be right there,” Randy said. He turned to Drew. “We‟ll continue this later, yeah?” No, we won’t. “Whatever,” Drew said and gathered up his dress before rushing from the office.

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Chapter Five Backstage in the performers‟ dressing room, Drew peered at his reflection in the makeup mirror and adjusted his waist-length curly black wig. He hated the wig. It was hot, and it made his head itch. But at least the dark color better matched his exotic looks and golden skin tone than the blond one Randy had been pushing him to wear. Randy. That weasel. When he‟d left the office that afternoon, Drew had been more hurt and disappointed than angry. Now he was just plain pissed off. He should have fucking quit. That was what he should have done. It would have served them right if he‟d thrown the dress in Randy‟s face and told him to find himself another drag queen. Hell, let pretty-boy Danny MC the show if he was all that. Danny would look good in the blond wig. Fucker. But he was not going to think about that, not now. He had a show to do and a date afterward with his very own blond college-boy hottie. Drew smoothed his hands down the clingy red-and-gold-and-green-patterned gown hugging his false titties and skimming over his slender hips like a lover‟s hands, like Oliver‟s hands. What would his college boy say if he could see him now? Would he think it was hot? Or would he think Drew was a freak? If he did, he certainly wouldn‟t be the first. Not that it mattered, because Oliver was a spring fling and would never find out about his alter ego, the glamorous persona he assumed when he stepped on stage. To him Drew was the boy from the bike shop, and maybe, hopefully, his spring-break hook-up.

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Drew heard a sound behind him and turned just as Samantha poked her head into the dressing room. “There you are. I‟ve been looking all over for you.” “I‟m right here.” Turning back to the mirror, Drew picked up a black liner pencil and carefully lined his lashes. The beaded curtain clicked and swung as Sam pushed through and entered the cramped space. “Ooo, very sexy, hon. Love the dress. Is that for the gypsy number?” “Yeah, you like it?” “I do. You are the second sexiest queen in this whole damn show.” “Only the second sexiest?” “Next to me, of course.” “Of course.” They grinned at each other in the mirror. “I have something for you.” “Yeah? What?” Drew rummaged in his makeup bag, found his red lip liner, and lined his lips. Dropping the liner, he picked up a tube of scarlet scandal lipstick, uncapped it, and filled in the outline. “It‟s a present from your secret admirer.” “Who‟s my secret admirer?” “You tell me.” Sam brought her hand from behind her back and held up a flower. “Ta-da!” “Hey, isn‟t that one of those leather roses they sell down the street?” Drew reached for the flower. “I believe it is.” “So who left it for me?” “Some blond hunk with shoulders out to here.” Sam spread her hands. “And the most adorable little ass you ever saw.” “Did he have a name?”

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She shrugged. “I imagine so, but he didn‟t say who he was, just came by to sniff around after you, asked a bunch of questions, and left the flower. Though I did give him a free pass, and he said he‟d be here tonight.” Drew thought of Oliver, who was blond with amazing shoulders. Was it possible? Maybe. Yeah right, if only. “Well, even if he is here, I have plans for later tonight.” “Oh, really?” Sam arched a brow. “Anybody I know?” “Nope. I just met him. He‟s a spring breaker.” “When it rains it pours,” Samantha said with a wistful sigh. “Lucky you.” Yeah, lucky him. Drew stuck the rose in an empty wine bottle on the dressing table. “How much time do I have, Sam?” Samantha glanced at her watch. “About two minutes. Shall I tell Randy you‟re all set?” Randy. Drew frowned at Faith‟s image in the glass. Don’t think about him. He consciously smoothed his expression and nodded. “Yeah, tell him I‟m ready.” As Samantha disappeared, Drew plucked the leather rosebud from the wine bottle and tucked it in his fake cleavage. Stepping over to the full-length mirror, he studied the effect with a critical eye. He liked the extra pizzazz of the leather blossom between his fake boobs. If his secret admirer was in the audience tonight, Drew wanted him to know his gift had been received and appreciated. Sliding his feet into his gold sequined high heels, Drew clicked across the wood floor, swished the beads aside, and left the dressing room. He stood backstage and waited for his cue. As the music came up and Randy‟s voice boomed through the club, he peeked through a slit in the curtain.

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The club was packed. Every table, as far as Drew could see, was occupied, and the waitstaff looked like they had their hands full. Waiters and waitresses rushed through the narrow spaces between the tables, trays held high. They had only one show tonight. Thank goodness. He should be out of there by no later than eleven thirty, after which he would call Oliver. And here was his cue. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your hostess for the evening, Faith Cummings!” Lights flashed, music came up, and Drew stepped through the curtain. Sashaying to center stage, he scanned the faces of the patrons seated at the front tables. He smiled and blew kisses as he picked up his mic and made as if he meant to suck it like a cock. The audience went crazy, applauding and whistling and cheering. Drew felt the now familiar rush of being onstage, the thrill of the lights and the music, the adulation of the crowd and the heart-pounding excitement of knowing that he was the center of all that attention. It was time to let the tiger out of the cage. “Hello, my darlings,” Drew called in Faith‟s seductive contralto. “How is everyone tonight? Are you all ready to have a good time?” More cheering. They loved Faith. She was their girl. “That‟s great, because we‟ve got a fantastic show for you tonight!” Drew smiled and began to slither around the stage as the intro music faded. Scott, the DJ, started Drew‟s music, and he began to dance. He lip-synched, danced, and flirted his way through his first and second numbers. As his second song ended, Drew saw Randy signaling him from offstage. The next act wasn‟t ready. He needed to stall them. Drew sighed and walked to the edge of the stage.

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“Are y‟all having fun?” Applause and shouts of “yeah!” and “you bet, baby!” “That‟s good. That‟s good.” He had a rap he‟d worked up specifically for times like this, and he launched into it with apparent gusto. No one would guess he was already thinking about his date with Oliver even as he soaked up the love of the crowd. “Okay, my darlings, let‟s see a show of hands. How many gay boys in the audience tonight? C‟mon now, where are my gay boys? Hands up so I can see you. I need to decide who is going to escort me home tonight.” There were whistles and catcalls from all around the floor. He flirted outrageously with a silver-haired gentleman at a front table. A big blond guy grabbed Drew‟s ass as he strolled among the tables and continued to chat up the crowd. Drew paused and let the guy tuck a dollar down between his boobs. When the guy‟s other hand made a grab for Drew‟s package, he brought his stiletto down on the asshole‟s instep before turning in a swish of sequins and dancing back to the stage. At last the next act was ready. He introduced the three girls who would do the pirate number, then slinked offstage with a wave and smile for the audience. The rest of the show passed in a blur. Drew changed costumes, glugged water, freshened his makeup, and fought for space in the cramped backstage, all the while thinking of his sexy blond college boy. At last they wrapped up the show finale, a spectacular number in which all the drag performers appeared together in all their sequined and feathered glory, and Drew was free to leave the stage and begin working the crowd for tips. He was leaning in, accepting a tip from a burly guy with a buzz cut when he saw it. At a table in the back, a familiar head of sun-streaked hair atop broad shoulders. Oliver. And, just Drew‟s luck, he was holding up a dollar, holding it way up to make sure it would be seen.

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Oh. Shit. For a split second Drew considered pretending he hadn‟t seen Oliver or the dollar. But the way he was waving it around, a blind guy on a galloping horse couldn‟t miss it. So no way could he get away with that. Taking a deep breath, Drew danced over to Oliver‟s table. His skirt, a slinky slither of black fabric and silver bugle beads, swished as he danced, the thigh-high slits in each side revealing lots of leg and sparkly fishnet stockings. He tried his best to avert his face as he bent close enough for Oliver to slip the bill into the neckline of his gown alongside the leather rosebud. “I think you‟re totally amazing,” Oliver said, raising his voice to be heard above the music. So this was his moment of truth. Drew turned and met Oliver‟s eyes. In their sea blue depths, there was no recognition, none whatsoever. Clearly he had no clue that the drag queen leaning over him and the boy he had a date with in less than thirty minutes were one and the same. And that was fine with Drew. “Thank you, sweetheart.” On an impulse, Drew pulled the leather rosebud from among the bills tucked into his cleavage and slipped it into the neck of Oliver‟s T-shirt before he turned and danced away. Now, that had been too freakin‟ close. Backstage Drew hurried to remove his makeup and his costume, all the while thanking his lucky stars for that far too narrow escape. As he tissued away the last of his eyeliner, Drew practiced what he would say when, if, Oliver questioned him about his drag persona. He was a performer. He loved being on stage, loved the applause and the adulation of the crowd. He loved the lights and the stage, the clothes and the glamour. He loved Faith‟s in-your-face

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sensuality, her bold and brazen sexuality. He loved the way he felt when he was her. And if he had to defend that feeling to Oliver, then defend it he would. Again he wondered what Oliver‟s reaction would be if he knew. “Hey, hon.” Samantha‟s face, still in full makeup, appeared over Drew‟s shoulder in the mirror. “Fabulous show. You were really on tonight.” “You too.” Drew dropped a wad of tissues in the trash can. “What happened to your flower?” “I gave it to a guy in the audience.” “Oh?” Samantha‟s brows lifted. “Do tell.” “His name‟s Oliver. He‟s my spring break guy, the one I met this afternoon.” “Really? So he‟s your new dick? The one you have the date with?” Samantha reached past Drew, plucked a tissue from the box on the dressing table, and scrubbed at her lipstick. “He‟s not my new dick yet. But I‟m hopeful for tonight.” “Mmm, hot?” “Very. Blond, amazing shoulders.” “Really.” Sam hummed thoughtfully. “Think he could be the flower guy?” “I don‟t know. I was sort of wondering the same thing.” “You going to ask him?” “How can I do that without telling him about me and Faith? „Oh, by the way, Ollie, did you give a leather rose to a drag queen this afternoon? You did? Oh yeah, she‟s me, I‟m her, whatever.‟ That would be good.” “You don‟t want to tell him about Faith.” “Not unless I know for sure he‟s not going to think I‟m a freak.” “Like Taylor did.” Sam shook her head. “Sweetie, your ex was an asshole. You need to get past all that crap he fed you about Faith.” “I am. I mean, I have. But that doesn‟t mean I didn‟t learn something from it.”

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“Like what?” Like not to let people too close, not until he knew what he was dealing with. And that had been a valuable lesson, one he wouldn‟t soon forget. Drew shrugged. “I want to know how he feels about the drag thing before I tell him about me and Faith.” “And how are you going to do that?” “Hell if I know.” Samantha tapped a finger against her lips. “Well, you could ask him where he got the flower when you meet him for your date. Then you can feel him out about the drag show.” “Or I could just feel him out, or up.” She rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha. If you‟re finished there, get a move on so I can fix my face before my fella gets here.” “You bet.” Drew pushed back the vanity seat and stood. Nudging him aside, Sam took her place at the mirror, uncapped the eye makeup remover, and began removing her stage makeup. As he pushed aside the beaded curtain, she gave him a little finger wave in the mirror. “Have fun, sweetie. And don‟t forget to be safe.” Dressed in his regular clothes and with his face cleansed of makeup, Drew started to walk out to the bar, then paused. How weird would it look if he happened to be here in the very same club where Oliver was? Too weird, he decided and changed his course. He slipped out through the kitchen and stopped in the alley behind the club and pulled his cell from his pocket. He dialed Oliver‟s number, which he‟d programmed into his phone, and waited. Ring. Ring. Ring. The ringing stopped, and he heard Oliver‟s voice, yelling over the music. “Hello?”

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“Ollie, it‟s me, Drew. I just got off work. Where are you?” “Hold on. I can‟t hear you. Let me call you right back.” “No, just tell me where you are, and I‟ll come.” “I‟m at a place called Mango Mango, at the bar.” “I know the place. I‟ll be right there. Give me ten minutes.” The minutes ticked away slowly. Drew kept checking his phone, and when eight minutes had passed, he left the alley, circled to the front of the club, and went in. “Hey, doll!” one of the waitresses, a very butch little blonde named Cassie, hailed him. “Fantastic show tonight. You were totally hot.” “Thanks, Cass.” Drew smiled and inwardly cursed himself for his stupidity. He‟d have to get Oliver out of Mango Mango right fucking now unless he wanted to risk being busted by one of his well-meaning coworkers. He spotted his college boy immediately, perched on a stool at the far end of the bar. He was at that very moment being chatted up by none other than Taylor, the bar manager and Drew‟s ex-boyfriend. Wasn‟t that just fucking great? Drew gritted his teeth. He could still hear Taylor‟s protestations that he had no problem with drag queens. He just didn‟t want to date one. As if Drew‟s onstage persona somehow reflected badly on him. As Drew watched, Taylor threw back his head and laughed at something Oliver was saying. “Oh, I don‟t think so,” Drew said and made a beeline for the other side of the bar. Drew reached his target in time to hear Taylor say, “So, I get off at two, if you want to do something. We could go back to my place and—” Wedging his body into a space that wasn‟t really a space, Drew sent his ex a back-the-hell-off glare and touched Oliver‟s arm. “Hey, Ollie, how‟s it going?”

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Oliver turned, his smile lighting his features and taking him from good-looking to blazing hot in the space of a heartbeat. “Drew, hey, I was starting to think you stood me up.” “No way, babe.” Drew ran a hand up Oliver‟s arm and let it rest at his nape, a clearly possessive gesture that was meant to send a signal to the interloper. Hands off. This one‟s mine. Oliver smiled, his gaze locked with Drew‟s for the space of several heartbeats. “Yo, Doobie,” Taylor interrupted. “You two know each other?” “Yeah, we do,” Drew said before turning his attention back to Oliver. “You ready to get out of here?” “Chill, man,” Taylor said. He produced a rag and began to wipe down the bar. “He hasn‟t finished his drink.” Oliver glanced from Drew to Taylor and back. “Doobie?” “It‟s just a nickname,” Drew said. Taylor laughed. Drew ground his teeth. He was not going to let Taylor get to him, not tonight. Oliver must have seen something in Drew‟s expression. He said, “I‟m ready. We can go now, if you want.” “Don‟t let him rush you,” the bartender said. “Finish your drink.” “No, really, I‟m good. I don‟t guess I need any more.” Oliver reached into his pocket, produced some bills, and laid them on the bar. Taylor dismissed him with a wave. “Put your money away. I told you, this one‟s on the house.” “Thanks.” Oliver slid off his stool and reached for Drew‟s hand. “Let‟s get out of here.” “Sounds good to me.” Drew tugged Oliver through the crowd to the exit and out the door. Still hand in hand, they joined the throng of people walking along Duval Street.

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Chapter Six As they walked Oliver tried to look everywhere at once. He couldn‟t help it. There was eye candy in every direction, beautiful men of all shapes and sizes moved along Duval in pairs and small groups. A leather daddy led his boy toy on a leash while a group of college students staggered along, leaning on each other as they sang a raunched-up version of their school song at maximum volume. There were lesbians too, many more butch than the men, though they didn‟t really interest him much. But the boys dressed as girls? It seemed that was his new favorite kink, one he hadn‟t even known he had, at least until he got here to Key West. “Hey, you look like a bobblehead doll.” Letting go his hand, Drew wrapped an arm around Oliver‟s waist so they walked hip to hip. It felt thrillingly intimate. “I can‟t help it. I‟ve never seen anything like this. Where I come from I can‟t even hold my boyfriend‟s hand on the street.” “Where do you come from?” “Pennsylvania. That‟s where I go to school.” “Yeah? What do you go to school for?” “Hotel management. I‟m graduating in May.” “So you‟re almost done. Cool. Got a job yet?” “Not yet. I‟ve had some interviews, but I‟m still looking.” Drew was quiet for several minutes before he asked, “And you have a boyfriend? Why isn‟t he here with you?” “I used to have a boyfriend. But I don‟t have him anymore.” “Hmm?”

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“We broke up.” He did not want to talk about Jonathan or why specifically they had broken up, especially now. They had planned the trip months ago, back when the relationship was solid, or at least when Oliver had believed it was solid. Then a month ago he‟d discovered Jon‟s extracurricular activities, and they broke up. After that, Oliver hadn‟t even much wanted to go on the trip. But since he had interviews set up, he‟d made up his mind to go anyway. He had even offered to pay Jonathan for his half of the room, an offer Jon had flatly refused, and now Oliver knew why. The jerk had probably been planning all along to drop in on him. What he had not done and now über regretted, was remove Jon‟s name from the reservation, which was why the asshole had been able to check in without Oliver‟s knowledge. Jonathan had, of course, refused to leave, so Oliver had spent most of the day looking for other accommodations. But even with Dante‟s help, he‟d come up empty. Everything was totally booked for spring break. He had no idea where he‟d sleep tonight, unless Drew… “So, where‟d you get the flower?” Oliver jumped. “Flower? What?” Drew flicked a fingertip over the leather rosebud still sticking out of the neck of Oliver‟s T-shirt. “Yeah, flower.” Shit. He‟d sort of forgotten about that. “Oh, I…uh, one of the drag queens gave it to me.” “At Mango Mango?” Oliver nodded. “You saw the show, then?” Another nod. Say something, idiot!

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“Yeah, I was walking around this afternoon, and somebody gave me a free pass to get in and see the show. Since you weren‟t getting off until eleven, I thought I‟d check it out.” There. That sounded casual enough, like he hadn’t really meant to go to the drag show. Didn’t it? “So what did you think?” Drew slid his hand into Oliver‟s back pocket. To Oliver it felt like a thrillingly intimate gesture. He let their hips bump. “About?” “The drag show. What did you think?” “They‟re all really talented, the drag queens, I mean.” Drew laughed and squeezed Oliver‟s butt. “Yeah, but did you think it was hot? All those pretty boys in makeup and heels. Did that turn you on?” Oliver swallowed, the memory of Faith in his arms suddenly so vivid he could almost feel her, that lean male body, those soft knowing lips. He shrugged. “What‟s the shrug mean?” “I don‟t know. Why do guys want to wear women‟s clothes anyway?” “You mean like that?” Drew pointed with his free hand. A blond teetered past on skyscraper heels. She? He? Wore a teeny tiny red mini and a matching tank top. “Roll your tongue back in, babe.” Pulling his hand from Oliver‟s pocket, Drew gave his ass a sharp smack. He jumped, and so did his cock. “Ow! Shit. That‟s a boy?” “You bet it is.” Oliver felt the heat climb into his cheeks. He craned his neck so as not to lose sight of the blond. “Down here I can‟t tell the boys from the girls half the time.” “It‟s easy to tell,” Drew said. “The boys have no hips.” “Really?”

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Oliver turned. The blond in the red mini had stopped and was talking to a guy sitting on the sidewalk with a guitar and a donation can. And yeah, he could see it now. Despite the presence of very small, very perky breasts—which he would have mistaken as real—Blondie had no hips. He, very definitely he, was straight up and down. And the thought of what was under the little skirt had Ollie‟s dick going from half-mast to full sail in a heartbeat. What was up with that? He‟d never been into this kind of thing before. Never. Samantha‟s words came back to him. “Just as much boy as you are.” He turned around quickly, but it seemed not quickly enough. He found Drew studying him, his eyes filled with speculation, and a small smile playing around his lips. “You like that little blond, huh?” “I was only looking to see if I could see what you meant is all.” “Hmm, and could you?” “Yeah, I think so.” Drew watched him for a long moment, long enough Oliver wanted to squirm under the scrutiny of those intense dark eyes. Somehow he managed not to. At last Drew asked, “So who gave you the flower?” He wasn‟t prepared for the left turn the conversation had taken. He touched the flower sticking out of his T-shirt neckline. “I told you, one of the drag queens.” “Yeah, but which one?” “You know them?” “It‟s a small island. Everybody knows everybody on some level. So who was it?” “The dark-haired one. I think her name is Faith or something.” “No shit.” Drew laughed. “Small world. She‟s my roommate.” Oliver stopped dead and stared. “For real? You live with a drag queen?”

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“Sure. What‟s wrong with that?” “Nothing. I just… Nothing‟s wrong with it. I guess everybody has to live somewhere, right?” Faith was Drew‟s roommate. What were the odds of that? And more to the point, would he meet her if they went back to Drew‟s place? “So,” Oliver said, keeping his tone casual so he didn‟t betray his sudden excitement. “What are we going to do now?” “That depends.” “On?” “You, mostly. I know some guys who are having a party. It should be just getting good. We could go there. Or we could go somewhere and dance. Do you like to dance?” “I‟m not a big dancer,” Oliver admitted. “But we could do that, if you want.” “You know what I really want?” “Tell me.” Drew stopped and, turning to face Oliver, caught both his hands and held them. He leaned in close, so close his lips brushed Oliver‟s ear. “I want to get you naked and make you moan. Want to moan for me, baby?” Bingo! Oliver shivered, and his pulse began to thrum. “Yeah, I do.” Turning his head, he touched his lips to the corner of Drew‟s jaw. “Can we go to your place, like right now?” “I told you, I have a roommate,” Drew said. “What about your room?” Oliver thought of Jonathan and his current unresolved room dilemma. There was no way, even if the asshole wasn‟t there, he could take Drew back to the guesthouse. No way did he want the two of them running into Jonathan. But he did want to run into Faith, though it wouldn‟t do to say so.

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“I‟m afraid I have a roommate too.” Oliver dredged up a smile and pushed a little harder. “You think she‟ll be there?” “I don‟t know what her plans are. But it‟s her night.” “What do you mean, her night?” “The condo is pretty small, so we have a sort of agreement where we alternate weeks, and this is her week. But I have another idea.” “What is it?” “Never mind. Just come with me. You‟ll see.” The crowd flowed around them as Drew led him along the street. But before they reached the corner, Drew ducked into a side street that was no more than an alley, towing Oliver with him. “Where are we going?” The question had barely left Oliver‟s lips when Drew rounded another corner and tugged him into a narrow space between two buildings. But before Oliver had a chance to repeat his question, he found himself shoved against a wall with Drew‟s lips on his and Drew‟s tongue in his mouth, the kiss hot and urgent and all consuming. And somehow…familiar? But of course it was familiar. He‟d kissed Drew before, just that morning in the bike-rental place. He felt Drew‟s hands as they rucked up his shirt, clever fingers pinching, then twisting his nipples. Oliver gasped into Drew‟s mouth. God, it was like a red-hot wire connected his nipples with his dick, and he was hard in seconds, fully, achingly hard and longing for release, ready to beg for it if necessary. He whimpered. “You like that, baby?” Drew murmured against his mouth. “You like some pain with your pleasure?”

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He did, though he hadn‟t known it about himself, not until that moment, not until this man. He tried to say so, to acknowledge what Drew already seemed to know by instinct. But as he opened his mouth, Drew slid his hand down the front of Oliver‟s pants and wrapped strong fingers around his shaft. All thought instantly deserted him, and Oliver was rendered speechless. “Uhng.” It was all he could manage. “God, I‟ve been dying to get my hands on you again. So fucking sexy.” Drew kissed him again, a long hot kiss with lots of tongue and the sharp sting of teeth. Again Oliver thought of the drag queen, the hot, sweet mouth, the lean, hard body under the padding and false tits. He let himself imagine what it would be like to yank her skirt up and— Stop it! God, he was with Drew, not some stranger in a dress! Drew was sexy as sin, and Oliver wanted him like crazy, like right now. But still, God, that mouth! No, this mouth! Drew’s mouth! Except they couldn‟t do this here. “We can‟t.” Oliver gripped Drew‟s wrist, tried to muster the will to push his hand away, but couldn‟t manage it. Somehow the button and zip on his pants had gotten undone, and Oliver found himself completely exposed, his package cradled lovingly in Drew‟s palm. “Yes, we can. We are.” Drew nipped at Oliver‟s bottom lip. “I want you right here, just like this, where anybody might see us.” “Here?” Oliver‟s voice squeaked. He was mortified. He cleared his throat. “Here? We can‟t do it here. There are people right over… Aaah. Shit, Drew. You‟re making me crazy.”

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Drew stroked, caressed, cajoled. He rolled Oliver‟s balls between his fingers, gripped his shaft, and squeezed almost to the point of hurting. His touch was strong and sure as if he‟d been touching Oliver for years, all his life even. “Don‟t be so paranoid. I could suck you off right here. Get down on my knees, and nobody would care.” “I care. Drew—” “Okay, look, I‟ll stand like this, and they won‟t even see.” Drew angled his body, blocking the view from the mouth of the alley. “And I‟ll use my hand. Want to come in my hand, Oliver?” Still uncertain, Oliver glanced back toward the street. He‟d never done anything like this, not outside. It was so…thrilling. He wavered. “Well…” It was then Drew‟s cock slid against his, hard hot flesh against hard hot flesh, both gripped in Drew‟s fist. “You want me to stop?” Drew stroked, once, twice. “If you want me to stop, I will. Just say the word.”

“Uhng.” It was turning into his favorite word all of a sudden. Oliver looked back toward the mouth of the alley where the lights from the club across the street flashed green and blue and purple neon. Music thump, thump, thumped from somewhere in the not too far distance. Someone laughed, a high shrill sound. But they were alone in the mostly shadowed depths of the alley, a good twenty or twenty-five feet from the hubbub on the street and around the side of a building. And oh, Christ, but it felt so damn good. The pressure of Drew‟s fingers, the pulsing heat and hardness of his cock. It was like a small slice of heaven right here in the alley off Duval Street.

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“So? What‟ll it be?” Drew flicked his tongue in Oliver‟s ear, sending an electric shiver down his spine and straight to his balls. Oliver‟s hips snapped forward; his dick thrust into Drew‟s hand. “Don‟t stop.” Drew chuckled. “But what if somebody sees? I thought you were shy.” “Not shy. Don‟t care. Just…God, don‟t stop. Need to… Oh!” Oliver squeezed his eyes shut. His head felt back and bonked against the wall. Maybe it would have hurt, maybe it should have hurt, but by then he was too far gone to care about anything but the man who was taking him flying. “Want to come for me, baby, my shy college boy? Want to come for me right now, right here, where anybody might see us?” The questions were accompanied by faster, firmer stroking from Drew‟s hand, the hand that seemed to know exactly how Ollie liked to be touched. Drew‟s leg slipped between Oliver‟s, a hard thigh pressed against his crotch. Ollie rocked against Drew‟s leg, thrust into his hand. Someone was moaning. Was it really him? Right out here, so close to where people walked and talked, laughed and jostled one another? It was. “Come for me, baby. You know you want to.” Drew nipped at Oliver‟s ear, the tiny pain shooting sparks along his nerve endings, ratcheting up his need until he could no longer hold back, not even if he‟d wanted to. Another stroke, another thrust, and he was coming. Eyes squeezed shut, balls pulled tight, he shot, his spunk spilling over Drew‟s hand and Drew‟s cock. Drew made a sound, half groan and half growl as he came too, mingling their seed as the final shudder of orgasm ripped through Oliver, leaving him weak and wasted, still upright thanks only to the wall at his back and Drew‟s arm around his waist. “Wow, you‟re amazing,” Drew said and kissed him hard on the mouth. When the kiss broke Oliver laugh shakily and opened his eyes. “Me? You‟re the amazing one.”

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Grabbing a handful of Drew‟s hair, Oliver pulled him back in for another liplock. And as their tongues met, he thought again of how familiar this was, and of that other mouth, that other kiss. Faith‟s kiss.

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Chapter Seven “Morning, Oliver.” Dante‟s cheerful greeting had Oliver wincing as he added sugar to his first mug of coffee. “Morning,” he managed, his tongue still thick and his brain fuzzy from lack of sleep. When more seemed to be required, he added, “Looks like a nice day.” Dante nodded. He stood by the kitchen island, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts. He seemed to want something. “Something wrong?” “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Oliver gave his coffee one final stir, then laid the spoon aside. Lifting the mug, he took the first glorious sip. Ah, heaven. He lowered the mug to the counter. “Sure. What‟s up?” “Could we maybe talk in the office?” Dante cut his gaze to the two other guests who had just entered the kitchen and were perusing the breakfast offerings on the other side of the center island. “I guess.” What was that about? Maybe Dante had found him another room. Please, let it be that. Picking up his coffee, Oliver followed the other man from the kitchen, down the hall, and into the office. Dante closed the door after them and gestured to a chair. “Sit down if you want.”

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“That‟s okay.” Oliver propped a hip on the edge of the desk. “Did you find me a room?” Dante shook his head. “I wish I had. I feel terrible about the mix-up with your ex.” “It‟s not your fault.” Or not entirely anyway. Oliver sipped his coffee and waited. “I feel like it is.” Dante looked down at his hands. “Which is why it‟s kind of hard to say what I have to say to you.” Uh-oh. “What is it?” “Somebody mentioned to me that you slept on the couch in the living room last night.” “I did. Is that a problem? I‟m a paying guest after all.” “I know. But you paid for a room, and that‟s where you‟re supposed to be sleeping.” Dante raised a hand, forestalling Oliver‟s next words. “I know, Jonathan‟s sleeping in your room, and you two aren‟t getting along, but—” “Is that what he told you? That we aren‟t getting along?” “Well, sort of. I mean, with what you told me and what I assumed—” “We were together since the end of last year. We roomed together and everything. We planned this trip as a sort of graduation present to ourselves and each other. Then we broke up four weeks before we were supposed to leave. He said he didn‟t want to go, not without me, so I decided to go. Then I get here, and he shows up.” Oliver considered adding the part about how he had job interviews, then decided against it. He didn‟t owe Dante any explanation. “And now he‟s staying in your room.” Dante‟s tone was flat. “Jeez, I‟m really sorry about this. If there was anything I could do—” You could not harass me about sleeping on the couch for one damn night.

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But he didn‟t say it. Instead, he made it sound like a joke. “You could turn a blind eye when I crash on the couch.” Oliver grinned and added a chuckle. Dante shook his head. “One of the other guests was complaining. They said it made the place look like a flophouse. I‟m afraid I have to ask you to either find somewhere else to sleep tonight or—” “I‟m not staying in the room with him. There‟s no way.” “Well, maybe if you rent a car and drive up the Keys—” “Yeah, maybe I‟ll do that.” Oliver bit back the rest of what he wanted to say. It wouldn‟t do any good and certainly wouldn‟t find him a place to sleep. Without another word he turned and left the office. “Oliver, wait a minute.” Stopping in the hall outside the office, Oliver let Dante catch up to him. “Yeah?” “Let me make a few more calls. Maybe I can find you something. I know someone with a condo…” “Okay, that‟d be great.” Oliver didn‟t bother to add that even if he found another room or condo, he probably couldn‟t afford the additional expense, not on top of what he‟d already paid for the room he was in. Dante‟s smile was filled with relief. “Great. There‟s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen. Why don‟t you get some?” “Yeah, I‟ll do that.” Oliver thanked him and wandered into the kitchen, where one of the other guests was taking something from the toaster. The fragrance of toasted onion bagel filled the air. Oliver‟s stomach growled. Jeez, he was starving. He nodded a greeting and made a beeline for the coffeepot. Pouring himself a second mugful, he added sugar and a generous splash of cream. Oliver picked up the mug and took his coffee to the side porch and sat down to drink it while he tried

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to figure out what he was going to do about being technically homeless for the remainder of the week. He so didn‟t need this when he should be thinking about his upcoming interviews. And crap, that was another thing. How the hell was he supposed to make himself presentable for said interviews when he might find himself sleeping in Mallory Square? Ugh. Oliver let his head drop against the wicker back of the patio chair. Already the air felt thick with the heat of the approaching day. Even seated in the shade, the humidity settled around him like a damp blanket. He drew in a breath redolent with the scent of flowers. They bloomed everywhere, colorful profusions in beds and pots and hanging baskets all over the property. The air conditioners, a constant in the Florida heat, hummed in the background. Oliver closed his eyes and sipped his coffee. Something brushed against his ankle. His hand jerked, and coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup. He looked down. A black-and-white cat sat next to his left foot. Green eyes gazed intently up at him. “Hey, where did you come from?” Oliver set down his coffee and leaned over. He held out his hand, and the cat sniffed at it. Apparently deciding he was okay, she head butted him, a direct order to get busy with the petting. “Yes, ma‟am,” Oliver said and did just that, scratching under the cat‟s chin. “I see you met Lucy.” Oliver glanced up. “Oh, is that her name?” Dante stood in the doorway, a sheet of paper in one hand. “Yeah, that‟s Lucy. She‟s our resident cat. She deigns to let us feed her, and sometimes she even sleeps in the cat bed on the porch, but she won‟t admit to living here.” “She seems like a nice cat.” Oliver stroked his hand down Lucy‟s back.

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“She is.” “Hey, Dalton, good morning.” A familiar voice floated out of the dining room from behind Dante. Oliver stiffened, feeling every muscle grow tense. Dante turned his brilliant smile on the all too familiar but as yet unseen new arrival. “Oh, hey, good morning. But it‟s Dante, not Dalton.” Jonathan appeared in the doorway. He held a mug of coffee. He was barefoot, his only attire a pair of ragged cutoffs that hung precariously low on his slim hips. Jonathan fixed his sleepy gaze on Oliver. “Hey, babe. I didn‟t realize you were out here.” “Where else would I be, since I don‟t have a room anymore?” Oliver let all his disgust show in his voice. “You‟ve still got a room.” Jonathan slipped past Dante and headed for a chair opposite the one where Oliver sat. He sank into it with a sigh. “And now you‟ve got a roommate.” “Oliver, listen, I‟m going to make those calls. But if you need anything else in the meantime…” Dante spoke to Oliver, but his eyes followed Jonathan‟s every move. He was practically drooling, for God‟s sake. “Thanks, man,” Oliver said as he reached for his coffee. He was not sitting here with Jonathan. No fucking way. “Oh, you got a second, Dal—I mean, Dante?” Dante paused. “Sure, what can I do for you?” Jonathan sent him a look that spoke volumes to anyone who knew him well. Oliver rolled his eyes. Not his issue, Oliver reminded himself. He couldn‟t care less what Jonathan did or with whom, except he‟d started out sort of liking Dante. Maybe he should warn him. Nah, fuck it. Dante was a big boy who could pick his own playmates.

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Jonathan picked up his coffee and took a sip as he let his gaze slide down Dante‟s body. He set the cup down. “Can you tell me where I can rent a car around here?” “There‟s lots of places over by the airport. But if you aren‟t planning to go far, you‟d be better off with a scooter or a bike. There‟s a couple rental places within a few blocks. I‟ll get you the numbers and be right back.” “I‟ll come to the office with you.” Jonathan rose and picked up his coffee. He followed his new playmate into the house. Before he disappeared, he tossed a look over his shoulder and dropped Oliver a wink. “Later, babe.” “Fuck off,” Oliver mumbled. He picked up his coffee and drained the mug in one swallow. He set the empty mug down on the table. A pamphlet lay atop the morning paper, and he picked it up. It was a tourist brochure about the Dry Tortugas National Park. At the top of the list of “Fun Activities!” was camping. Oliver scanned the brochure, then flipped his phone open and dialed the information number at the bottom of the page. The phone rang. “Visitors‟ center,” a pleasant female voice sang out. “How can I help you?” “I‟d like some information about camping in the park.”

*** “Wow, this is great!” Oliver stood in the middle of their campsite and turned in a circle. He looked like a little kid, Drew thought, trying to see everything at once. “It‟s pretty rustic.” Drew set down the cooler beside where Oliver had dropped their sleeping bags. “Well, yeah, it‟s camping. Were you expecting a Hilton?” Oliver‟s grin flashed. Something turned over in Drew‟s chest. And what the heck was that about?

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When his phone had rung that morning at what Drew thought of as the crack of dawn, he‟d let loose with a string of rather colorful epithets before groping around the nightstand, seizing the damn cell, and preparing to silence it. He‟d pushed the button, cutting the noise off in mid ring, but before dropping the phone back on the table, he had looked at the display and seen Oliver‟s name. The weird thing was, he‟d felt the same funny flip in his chest just from seeing the boy‟s name on his phone. Drew answered Oliver‟s grin with one of his own. “You‟re not exactly Mr. Outdoorsman either, my little camping virgin.” “I resemble that remark.” Oliver paused and cocked his head. “Listen.” “To what?” “How quiet it is.” “Are you kidding? There must be a million birds around here.” “The guidebook says it‟s a big nesting area for…” Oliver pulled the book from his backpack and paged through. “Well, I can‟t find what kind of birds, but I‟ll find it later and tell you.” Drew laughed. “You do that.” “So how long has it been since you were here last?” “Like twenty years.” “For real?” Drew nodded. “Yeah. I was just a kid, and I remember how cool it was. We didn‟t camp, though. We came out here for the day on a catamaran, went snorkeling, ate a picnic lunch, and went back.” “I thought you weren‟t from around here.” Oliver opened the cooler, pulled out a bottle of water, unscrewed the top, and drank deeply. “I‟m not. We‟re from Maryland. But my parents and I used to come here on vacations. It was how I knew I wanted to come back here after college.”

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Drew watched the muscles work in Oliver‟s throat as he drank. He had an irresistible urge to press his lips to the hollow where he could see the pulse beating. What the hell? There was no one around to see, no one but the birds. Stepping around the cooler, Drew hooked a finger in Oliver‟s belt loop and tugged him close before lowering his head and pressing his lips just…there. He tasted the salt of Oliver‟s sweat, smelled the sun and the heat and the other man‟s skin. On impulse and to please himself, he sucked up a mark. “Ow, shit. What are you doing?” Lowering the water bottle, Oliver steadied himself with a hand on Drew‟s waist. “Did you just mark me?” Drew tilted his head and examined the purpling bruise. “Yep, looks like. Is that a problem for you?” Oliver shook his head. “Nope, I think it‟s kind of hot actually. Want some water?” Their gazes locked, and the air around them sizzled with a strange electricity. Drew felt it dancing over his skin. “I think you‟re kind of hot.” Taking the water bottle from Oliver‟s hand, Drew set it on the cooler and pulled the other man close. He shoved his hands up under Oliver‟s shirt to feel his skin. “So now that we‟re here, what do you want to do first?” It turned out they were too late to snorkel or to go on any of the organized fishing trips. But Oliver wanted to see Fort Jefferson, and that they could do.

*** “Listen to this,” Oliver said for about the tenth time since they‟d entered the fort. He read. “A large military fortress, Fort Jefferson was constructed in the midnineteenth century in effort for the United States to protect the extremely lucrative shipping channel. Low and flat, these islands and reefs pose a serious navigation hazard to ships passing through the seventy-five-mile-wide straits between the gulf and the ocean.”

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He looked up from his book, apparently waiting for Drew to make some comment. “Fascinating stuff, huh?” Drew couldn‟t quite suppress his grin, though, and Oliver swatted him with the guidebook. “You‟re making fun of me.” “I am not,” Drew protested even as his shoulders began to shake with laughter. “Are too.” “Okay, maybe just a little fun.” Oliver grinned. “I‟m a history geek. What can I say?” “No need to say anything.” Drew wrapped his arm around Oliver‟s waist and bumped his hip. “It‟s all good.” Privately he thought it was damn adorable how enthusiastic Oliver was about everything, even a stodgy old fort. Beside him he could feel the heat of Oliver‟s body through his clothes. With his free hand, Drew swiped at the sweat trickling down his face. “You want to get out of here and go for a swim?” Oliver glanced at Drew, his brows drawn together. “You really want to swim?” “Why not? It‟s pretty hot. We could cool off and—What‟s the matter?” “The guidebook says there are crocodiles around here.” “Crocodiles? Get out. There are no crocodiles around here.” “I swear, I read it in the guidebook.” Oliver flipped pages. “Look, here it is. „Despite its distance from the mainland, American crocodiles have been found inhabiting the remote waters of Dry Tortugas National Park!‟ See? I told you.” Drew cracked up. “You and that book.” Drew stopped, yanked Oliver against him, knocking the guidebook to the ground, and sealed their lips together.

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The kiss turned molten in seconds, and Oliver wrapped himself around Drew. His mouth was so hot and so hungry, and Drew quickly lost himself in the kiss, forgetting everything except the man in his arms. No telling how long they might have stayed that way if voices and approaching footsteps hadn‟t intruded on them. Drew broke the kiss and released Oliver only moments before a group of little kids rounded the corner and invaded their now not so private space. Two middleaged women were not far behind the kids, and suddenly the place felt extremely crowded. Drew grabbed Oliver‟s hand. “Let‟s go back to the campsite and get our swimming stuff.” “But what about the crocodiles?” Oliver stooped and retrieved his book before letting Drew pull him along. “I‟ll protect you. I promise.” They swam and sunned and drank a couple of the beers they‟d packed in the cooler. As they lay on their towels in the lazy haze of approaching evening, Oliver reached for Drew‟s hand and took it. “You know, I thought those women at the fort were going to give us a hard time.” “About what?” Drew twined their fingers together. “Kissing in front of their kids. But they didn‟t.” “This is the Keys,” Drew said. “People are used to seeing gay couples. Hell, those women might have been a couple for all you know.” “Yeah, maybe.” Oliver sighed. “God, I could so live here.” Drew felt the funny flutter in his chest again. Excitement? Dread? No, not dread. Not at all. Of course if he did live here, a voice in Drew‟s head whispered, You’d have to tell him about you know who.

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But Oliver didn‟t live in Key West, and there was no need to tell him anything. So Drew kept it light. “You mean you‟d want to live right here in the park?” “No, not right here.” Oliver laughed. “I mean here, in the Keys, in Key West. I‟d love to be able to walk hand in hand with my boyfriend without wondering and worrying what people are thinking, knowing they‟re probably not even looking. Or if they are, they‟re thinking „look at that nice young couple. Don‟t they look happy?‟” “You‟re a romantic, you know it?” “I guess. Isn‟t that why you live here?” “I live here because it‟s sunny every day.” Drew sat up. He did not want to continue this conversation. Too many possible mines to step on. “You ready to go back to camp? I‟m starving.” They returned to their campsite, Oliver saying no more about living in Key West, to Drew‟s relief. They ate the sandwiches they‟d brought and drank the remaining beers. “It‟s beautiful, isn‟t it?” Oliver sighed as he lay back on his sleeping bag and gazed up at the sky slowly deepening into darkness. “It is,” Drew agreed. He turned on his side, leaned up on one elbow, and cupped Oliver‟s jaw. “So are you.” The light from their lantern was enough to let him see Oliver‟s smile and the way his lashes fluttered down as if the compliment embarrassed him even as it pleased him. “I bet you say that to all the boys,” Oliver said. “No, I don‟t.” Drew lowered his mouth to Oliver‟s, and they shared a beerflavored kiss. “Mmm, Budweiser.” “You complaining?” Drew traced Oliver‟s lips with the tip of his tongue.

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“Nope, it‟s my favorite brand.” Oliver‟s fingers tangled in Drew‟s hair and pulled him back in for another kiss. Drew let himself sink. Maybe he really should tell him everything. Maybe he‟d be fine with it. Of course he‟d known when he agreed to come here with Oliver, it meant taking their encounters to the next level of intimacy. Next level of intimacy? Sheesh. He sounded like a damn girl. It meant fucking. He knew it, and no doubt Oliver knew it too. Oliver, who was even now wrapping himself around Drew like a human blanket. “You‟re a great kisser,” Oliver murmured against Drew‟s lips. “Shit, I could kiss you all night.” Drew grinned up at Oliver. He could see the rising moon over the other man‟s shoulder, smell the mingled scents of skin and sunscreen and sweat. And he could feel Oliver‟s hard-on nestling alongside his own. “Just kiss me? You sure about that? Because I sort of thought we'd try something else.” Oliver‟s hesitation was just long enough to break the mood. “I guess. Sure.” “What‟s wrong?” “Nothing.” Oliver started to untangle himself from Drew, but Drew caught and held him. “Tell me.” “It‟s nothing. Let me get naked.” “No, not until you tell me what‟s the matter. Don‟t you want—I mean, I thought that‟s why we came here, because you wanted to…”

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Drew‟s words trailed off. Clearly, he was waiting for Oliver to fill in the blank. Oliver opened his mouth, but no words came out. How could he admit to this sexy man, or to anybody else for that matter, at nearly twenty-two years old, he had never had actual sex? Handjob, sure. Blowjobs, most definitely. Mutual jerk-off sessions—hell, they were among his favorite activities with a sexy partner. But never a cock up his ass, and never had he fucked anyone else either. Jonathan‟s words came back to him. There’s something wrong with you, man. Maybe he was right. Maybe there really was something wrong with him. “Oliver?” Drew touched his shoulder. “Baby, did I say something?” “No.” Oliver rolled over onto his stomach, breaking the contact. If he was going to say it, right out loud, in front of God and everybody, he couldn‟t look at Drew. Oliver took a breath. “I‟ve never actually had sex before.” There. He‟d said it, and the sky had not fallen. Drew was silent for a long moment; then he huffed out a laugh. “That‟s it? That‟s your big revelation? Wow, I thought it was going to be something—You know, like…bad.” Oliver felt Drew lean over him, felt those luscious lips pressed to the back of his neck. “Baby, why would you not want to tell me that?” “Because it makes me seem like a big geek, and I wanted you to like me.” “I do like you.” Drew brushed a lock of hair aside and nuzzled Oliver‟s ear. “C‟mon, turn over and talk to me.” Reluctant to believe Drew wasn‟t going to make fun of him the way Jonathan had, Oliver turned and found himself gazing up into dark eyes filled with understanding and more than a little heat. “You don‟t think it‟s funny? I‟ll be twenty-two next month, and I‟m still a virgin.”

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Drew‟s lips quirked. “I wouldn‟t say virgin, after the stuff you and I have done. And no, I don‟t think it‟s funny or freakish you don‟t fuck every guy who crosses your path. I think it‟s…kinda nice, like you want it to mean something.” “God, now I do feel like a freak.” “Why?” Oliver shrugged. “Hey, we don‟t have to.” Drew touched Oliver‟s cheek. “I still like you.” Oliver laughed, though it had no humor in it. “You probably don‟t even want to now.” “Don‟t put words in my mouth, man. I never said that.” Drew leaned forward and rubbed his smooth cheek against Oliver‟s stubbly one. “Or you could fuck me if you want.” “For real?” “Yeah, for real. If it‟s what you want.” “It‟s what I want.” Oliver framed Drew‟s face between his hands and kissed him. Oh, that mouth. His stomach still fluttered with nerves, the ham and cheese on Cuban bread sitting like a rock in his gut. Yet he knew with a certainty he‟d never felt before, and especially never with Jonathan, he wanted this, wanted his first time to be with Drew. Not that he was in love. How could he be after knowing him for three days? But he was damned attracted, and if he actually ended up living here, maybe they would have something more than this one night. And despite the short acquaintance, he felt confident this man would be good to him. “This is what I want,” Oliver said again when the kiss broke. “Okay.” Drew rubbed his lips over Oliver‟s and slid his hands under his Tshirt, pushing it up so the warm, moist air caressed the skin of his bare belly. “Let‟s get these clothes off, hmm? I want to see you.”

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Slowly, Drew unbuttoned Oliver‟s shorts and drew down the zip. He spread the material and nuzzled the exposed skin leaving a trail of licks and kisses from navel to the deep vee of the zipper. Oliver sucked in his breath. The muscles of his abdomen trembled, and his dick pushed against the fabric of his shorts. “Mmm, love your cock, baby.” Shoving his hand between fabric and flesh, Drew gripped Oliver‟s prick and withdrew it. He mouthed the length, then lightly sucked at the tip, tonguing the slit until Oliver tugged at his hair. “If you don‟t quit that, I‟m going to come before…you know.” Drew looked up and grinned. “You‟re allowed more than one orgasm, Ollie, baby. In fact, it might help relax you before…you know.” Oliver laughed at the mirroring of his phrasing. “You think?” “I can almost guarantee it. Now, lie back like a good boy and let me bring you off.” Unable to resist the teasing tone or the sexy, knowing smile, Oliver lay back and gazed up at the stars. A soft breeze ruffled his hair and whispered through the trees surrounding their campsite. It was the perfect place to make love for the first time. He hardly remembered to be embarrassed when Drew removed his shorts and left him lying naked on the sleeping bag. He forgot completely any shyness when Drew‟s lean, nearly hairless body slid over him. God, it felt amazing, all that smooth golden skin and the long, lean lines of hips and thighs. Oliver wrapped one leg around Drew‟s waist, wanting, needing to pull him even closer. Their cocks slid together, and both men gasped. “You feel so good,” Drew whispered. “Can‟t wait to get your cock up my ass.” And suddenly Oliver couldn‟t wait either. “C‟mon, let‟s—”

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“Shhh.” Drew kissed the corner of his mouth. “There‟s no rush. We‟ve got all night. I promised you a two-fer, and I always keep my promises.” Drew slid down Oliver‟s body, his movements as smooth and sensuous as a snake, and swallowed Oliver‟s cock to the root. “Holy shit, Drew!” Oliver bucked, ramming his dick deeper into the other man‟s throat. And before he could stop himself, he was coming. “Sorry, jeez. Sorry.” But when he tried to pull out, Drew followed him down, sucking until Oliver was drained dry. Drew's dark eyes, filled with amusement, rolled up and met Oliver's as he pulled back slowly. He kissed the tip of Oliver‟s cock, then licked his lips. “Mmm, you taste good. Sweet.” “I eat a lot of fruit.” God, he sounded stupid. God, he felt stupid. “I didn‟t mean to come like that. I just—” “S‟okay, baby.” “But I came so fast, like I was twelve or something.” “I am goooood. And I‟m not done with you yet.” Drew laughed, then nuzzled Oliver‟s balls. “Looks like you aren‟t done with me either.” Oliver gasped as Drew‟s soft lips slid along his still-rigid shaft. Yeah, the orgasm had relieved some of the pressure, but he was still so horny for this man. Drew licked and kissed and nuzzled Oliver cock for several minutes before he raised his head. “Bend your knees and show me your sweet little hole.” Without stopping to think, Oliver bent his knees and pulled his legs apart. The position felt so wicked and so decadent, so gloriously uninhibited, and totally unlike himself. Drew growled. “God, you‟re so sexy.” Something in Drew‟s eyes, in the way he was looking at him, made Oliver‟s skin tingle. He felt desired and sexy. It was incredible.

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“I want to fuck you, Drew.” Oliver hardly recognized his own voice as he made the demand. It was raspy and low and didn‟t sound like him at all. “Not yet, baby.” Reaching between Oliver‟s legs, Drew ran the tip of one finger down the length of his dick, over his balls, and down, down, down to his hole, where he circled and teased until Oliver‟s cock stiffened and grew even harder until it was nearly painful.

Drew palmed his aching prick through his shorts. He stroked and squeezed as he leaned down and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his soon-to-be lover. But it wasn‟t enough. He needed to taste. He lowered his head between Oliver‟s legs and licked where his finger had been only a moment before, the place where the flavor was dark and bitter. Oliver gasped. “Oh, God. Oh, damn.” Drew smiled and stiffened his tongue. As if it were a tiny cock, he pushed it into Oliver‟s hole. He kept it up until Oliver‟s entrance was drenched with his saliva, until he could slide two fingers inside with hardly any resistance. He could have kept going all night, his blood abuzz with arousal, the taste and sound and feel of the man under him nearly enough to send him over the edge before they even got to the main event. He continued with fingers and tongue until Oliver was moaning and writhing and Drew himself felt like he was about to explode. Withdrawing his fingers, he sat back on his heels. In the light from the lantern, Oliver‟s skin was flushed and sheened with sweat. His beautiful cock throbbed visibly. It strained against his belly and glistened at the tip. God, he couldn‟t wait, not one more minute. “You ready?” Drew asked as he reached for his backpack. Oliver‟s eyes opened. They were dark and occluded with desire. He licked his lips and nodded.

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“You got supplies?” “I got us covered.” Tearing open the condom, Drew smoothed the latex down Oliver‟s shaft, then slicked it up with additional lube. He squeezed more into his hand and, getting to his knees, smeared a generous amount in and around his own opening before straddling his partner‟s hips and positioning himself. “Ready, baby?” Drew leaned forward and brushed his lips over Oliver‟s. “Ready.” Oliver squeezed his eyes shut. “Open your eyes. I want to see you.” Oliver opened his eyes. Drew felt the fat head of Oliver‟s prick against his entrance. His dick wept, and his ass clenched in anticipation. Reaching back, he grasped Oliver‟s shift and slowly impaled himself. “Oh, God. Oh, shit.” Oliver groaned. His fingers flexed on Drew‟s hips as his dick slowly penetrated Drew‟s hole. As his ass settled against Oliver‟s groin, Drew let out his breath. He felt stretched and impossibly full. It burned and stung but not too badly. “Are you okay?” Oliver asked. His tone sounded both concerned and breathless at once. It was adorable and made Drew smile. “I‟m good. But give me a minute. It stings a little.” “Want to stop?” “No fucking way.” Oliver laughed. “Good, because you feel amazing.” The breeze ruffled Drew‟s hair as he knelt there waiting for his body to relax. Ah, there. Slowly he raised up, then just as slowly slid back down. “Oh, God, Drew.”

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“I know,” Drew said and did it again. Sweat stung his eyes. He blinked it away. Bracing his hands on either side of Oliver‟s head, he eased forward and brought their mouths together. “You‟re so beautiful,” Oliver murmured when the kiss broke. “I could stay just like this.” “Me too,” Drew said and meant it. He reached between them and wrapped his fingers around his cock. He stroked. “Can‟t wait to come for you. Gonna come all over you.” Drew paused, stunned at his own words. That was something Faith said, not him. In fact, this was something Faith would do, riding a cock like this. He rarely bottomed, usually preferring to do the fucking rather than get fucked. “Yeah,” Oliver said on a breathless laugh. “Come for me.” Drew shook off his own musings. Too much thinking. He eased back, taking Oliver‟s dick to the root. It felt amazing. The head nudged his gland. Electric tingles shot up his spine and down into his balls. He rocked forward, repeating the move. “Yeah,” Oliver moaned. “Oh yeah.” Drew began to rock, forward and back, forward and back. Oliver‟s dick rubbed over his sweet spot, and he pumped his cock in time with the thrusts. In the near darkness, he could make out Oliver‟s face. He had such a beautiful, expressive face. His eyes were open and dark with need. His lips were wet and kissswollen. “Oh, God,” Oliver groaned. “I‟m going to come. Drew—” “Yeah, baby, come for me. Come in me.” Oliver‟s dick swelled in Drew‟s ass. He felt it pulse and throb as his own need balled tight in his belly. He looked down into Oliver‟s eyes, so blue and so full of need, so focused on him. They seemed to see right inside him and down to his soul.

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It was then Drew knew he would tell this man everything, and damn the consequences. Drew squeezed his eyes shut and let his body have its way. He had no choice. His balls pulled up as sensation raced through him. And then he was coming. The orgasm crashed over him like a wave, lifting him up and flinging him down, making him shake and sweat and swear. In his hand, his dick jerked; hot cum erupted from the tip and shot through his fingers. It splashed over Oliver‟s chest and belly and filled Drew‟s nostrils with the fresh, ferny sent of sex. All the strength ran out of the arm Drew had used to hold himself up, and he collapsed on Oliver‟s chest. They lay together, bodies slick with sweat and cum, their hearts racing, breath coming in shallow pants. Oliver‟s arms slid around him, and he held Drew tight. His lips nuzzled under Drew‟s ear. “That was incredible. Thank you.” Drew‟s breathing stilled. He raised his head and looked down at the man under him. “Did you just thank me?” “Yeah?” “For what?” “I don‟t know.” Oliver laughed nervously. “I told you I‟m a freak. Forget it. Forget I said anything.” But when Oliver let Drew go and tried to squirm out from under him, Drew wrapped his arms and legs around him and held on. “You‟re not a freak. You‟re hot as fuck, and I—” “You what?” Now it was Drew‟s turn to squirm. He‟d very nearly said I think I‟m crazy about you. Which was ridiculous since they hardly knew each other. But still… “You what?” Oliver asked again.

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“I like you,” Drew finished lamely. “And I‟m really glad you asked me to come here with you.” It wasn‟t the smoothest save ever, but it would do for now.

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Chapter Eight “You don‟t have to walk me all the way back to the house,” Oliver said. “We should go by your place, or I can bring the camping stuff over later on.” They were walking from the ferry, and it was the third time Oliver had said so. Maybe he didn‟t want him to walk him back to the guesthouse for some reason. And maybe Drew was being paranoid. All the thinking about honesty and coming clean about Faith and the rest was making him jumpy. “I don‟t mind.” “You never told me exactly where you live. Is it near here?” Okay, pal. Here was the first chance to do some of that coming clean with Oliver. “I live in a condo complex right behind We Be.” “We Be? Oh, the bike-rental place, right? We Be Bikin‟.” Oliver laughed. “That‟s a great name, by the way.” They turned the corner on William Street, and the guesthouse came into view. “I was the one who thought of it.” Drew hefted the backpack he carried and adjusted the straps on his shoulders. “When my parents bought the place, it was called something like William Street Bike rentals, something really boring like that. So I suggested We Be Bikin‟, and they loved it.” Oliver gestured at the backpack. “I can take that, if it‟s getting too heavy. And you really don‟t have to—” Drew stopped. “Is there some reason you don‟t want me to walk you back to the guesthouse, Ollie?”

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“No, of course not.” Oliver stopped too. “I just thought—Whatever. It doesn‟t matter.” He sighed as if Drew were being totally ridiculous, and maybe he was. Oliver resumed walking, and Drew fell into step beside him. They didn‟t speak again until they reached the guesthouse front porch. Music floated through the always open door, and somewhere inside a telephone rang. Behind them on William Street, a car drove by, stereo blaring. Oliver grunted as he put down the cooler and let his own backpack slide off his shoulders. “Okay, well, I guess I‟ll see you later at Mango Mango. What time should I meet you there?” “I‟ll call you when I get off work.” “And you‟re really going to introduce me to Faith?” Drew‟s stomach did a slow flip, but he dredged up a smile. “Sure. I think you two will really hit it off.” “I can‟t wait to meet her. I never met a real live drag queen before.” “Yeah, well…” Drew reached for Oliver, but as he leaned in for a kiss, Oliver stiffened. “What‟s the matter?” “Hey, babe, where have you been?” Babe? Drew stepped back. Over Oliver‟s shoulder he saw the man, dark-haired and movie-star handsome, standing in the doorway of the guesthouse openly watching them. His body was long and lean and displayed to its best advantage in cutoffs that seemed to be more holes than denim. His crystalline blue gaze flicked from Oliver to Drew and back. “Hey.” He sent Drew a dazzling smile. “I‟m Jonathan.” “I‟m Drew.” The response came automatically. But who the hell was this guy? And why was he calling Oliver babe?

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But the question didn‟t really need to be asked. The look on Oliver‟s face told Drew all he needed to know about who this guy was to Drew‟s new love, the man he had, only moments before, been ready to reveal his deepest secrets to. Drew and Jonathan stared at each other. After what might have been ten seconds or ten minutes, Jonathan turned to Oliver. “The maid‟s up in our room, so you probably don‟t want to go up there.” Drew sighed. Okay, so this was the roommate. But still. “You must be Oliver‟s roommate,” Drew said. “Is that what he told you?” Jonathan laughed. “Yeah, we‟re roommates, all right.” Well, there it was, the truth staring Drew in the face. This guy was obviously more than a roommate. Probably the boyfriend. Oliver‟s words came back to him. “I used to have a boyfriend, but we broke up.” Yeah, right. Who rooms with his ex-boyfriend on spring break anyway? Unless there’s still something there. Drew picked up his backpack and slung it over one shoulder. Doing his best to ignore the hurt and betrayal welling up inside him, he reached for the cooler. “I have to go, Oliver.” “Drew, wait. I can explain.” “No time.” He had to get out of there, right fucking now. “I have to get to work.” Drew shoved the cooler under his arm, grabbed his sleeping bag, and made his escape. Dimly he heard Oliver repeating his name, then footsteps as he followed Drew down the steps to the sidewalk. Drew quickened his pace. Please, don‟t. Not now. He couldn‟t deal with this now. Maybe not ever. “I‟ll call you later,” Oliver called after him.

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Drew said nothing. But he walked even faster and did not look back.

“Drew!” God, Drew wouldn‟t even look back. And he was practically running away from him. Shit. Oliver stopped. He couldn‟t exactly chase the man down the street, not when he so obviously did not intend to listen to whatever explanation Ollie had to offer. And what explanation was that anyway? Even if he told the complete unvarnished truth, what was the likelihood Drew would believe him? If their positions were reversed, would he even believe him? With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Oliver returned to the porch. Jonathan was gone. Good thing too, the asshole. Bending down, Oliver gathered up his backpack and the sleeping bag Drew had loaned him, and which he was going to have to return, and went into the house and directly up the stairs. With any luck the housekeeper would be finish by now, and he could deadbolt Jonathan out of the room. Not that it would do much good since he had a key and would only let himself in when he was good and ready. The asshole. So he’s the asshole, huh? Oliver‟s conscience poked him. And what about you, pal? You were the one who didn’t tell Drew the truth from the beginning, a truth he now refuses to hear. Maybe if you had, probably if you had, none of this would have happen, because Jonathan would not have had the power to fuck things up for you so royally. But you’re the one who gave him the hammer. So who exactly is at fault here? Oliver slammed a mental door on that voice with its all too valid questions and stomped up the final flight of stairs to his room. He shifted the sleeping bag to his other arm, fished out his key, and unlocked the door.

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Not until he was inside the room and had closed the door did he realize he wasn‟t alone. Jonathan sat on the edge of the unmade bed, a small smile playing around his lips. “You said the maid was in here.” It was a stupid thing to say, especially considering right at that moment Oliver, would have liked nothing more than to toss his ex‟s ass over the balcony railing. His comment was met with a shrug. “Yeah, well, I lied.” “Why?” But then why not? Jonathan was a liar, and liars lied. “Seemed like the thing to do at the time.” Jonathan fell back on the bed and stretched his arms over his head. “And I wanted your little fuck boy to know what the situation is between you and me, because I doubt you told him. Did you, Ollie?” “There is no situation here, Jon. We broke up. The only reason you‟re here at all is because I forgot to take your name off the reservation.” Oliver turned and yanked open the door. “Now, get the fuck out.” Jonathan laughed. “This is my room too, babe. You can‟t throw me out of my room. Or is the offer still open to buy me out?” If only. Since they‟d had that discussion, Oliver had been hit with some major expenses—new front tires for his car, a new alternator, and the labor to have it installed as well as a handful of fees that had to be paid before he could graduate next month. “I told you I don‟t have the cash now to buy you out.” “Yeah, you did. I forgot.” Jonathan yawned and stretched again. “So I guess this is still my room.” “What the hell is wrong with you?” Oliver demanded. “Why did you say that shit to Drew?”

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The door across the hall opened, and a blond bedhead poked through the crack. “Hey, can you keep it down or shut the fucking door? People are trying to sleep around here.” The head disappeared back inside the room, and the door banged shut. “Fuck you,” Oliver snapped but closed the door. “I don‟t know what you‟re so bent about, babe.” Jonathan sat up. “Just because your spring fling found out you have a boyfriend—” “I don‟t have a boyfriend. You are not my boyfriend. I told you—” “C‟mon, Ollie, we‟re going to get back together. You know it. We always get back together. Why do you think I‟m here? I didn‟t come all this way just to fuck with you, you know.” “We are not getting back together, and you‟re out of your fucking mind if you think so.” Oliver stomped to the closet and flung the bifold doors back with enough force to make them bounce. Hangers screeched along the bar. Oliver yanked one of Jonathan‟s shirts, light blue with tiny purple palm trees, from the hanger. He jerked open the door to their room and flung the shirt into the hallway. “What the hell are you doing?” Jonathan rolled off the bed to his feet. “That‟s my shirt.” “And these are your pants.” Oliver tossed a pair of jeans after the shirt. “And your shorts.” “You lost your freakin‟ mind!” Jonathan strode to the closet, but Oliver was already over at the dresser. He yanked open the top drawer and scooped up a pile of his ex-boyfriend‟s briefs and T-shirts. “And this is your underwear.” He marched to the door and threw the lot into the hallway. It hit Jon in the head where he was crouched and attempting to gather up his scattered belongings. “Hey! What the fuck?”

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“You‟re leaving,” Oliver said. “I‟m just helping you move your shit out of my room.” Sneakers, flip-flops, and deck shoes flew out the door. Jonathan ducked to avoid being smacked in the side of the head by one of his own docksiders. “You‟re a freakin‟ nut job!” “Yeah, I am. So you should probably stay away from me for your own safety.” Oliver threw Jon‟s toothbrush, comb, and electric razor into the hallway. “And we are never, never getting back together.” He slammed the door and leaned back against it. His heart was pounding, and he was giddy with dread over what he‟d done. “I fucking hate you, Oliver,” Jonathan yelled from the hallway. “The feeling‟s mutual,” Oliver called back through the door. Throwing the deadbolt, for all the good it would do, he walked to the bed and sat down. He couldn‟t believe he‟d just thrown Jonathan and all his shit out of their room. He‟d never done anything even remotely like that before. It was the kind of thing he‟d seen in movies but never dreamed of doing for real, not even when they had originally broken up and he‟d taken to sleeping on friends‟ couches rather than go home. It had felt good, though, and Jonathan had definitely deserved it even if he would be out there only as long as it took to have somebody from the desk let him back in. Oliver fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. Now if only he could fix things with Drew.

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Chapter Nine “Hey, gorgeous, how about a free pass to the show tonight?” In five-inch gold stilettos, Drew teetered over to a pair of college boys and waved two tickets at them. He was working the sidewalk in front of Mango Mango, flirting with the passersby, and handing out free tickets to that night‟s eleven o‟clock show. And oh yeah, still beating himself up for his stupidity where Oliver was concerned. Why the hell did he always fall for the ones who already had boyfriends, and not only already had boyfriends but lied about it? Sam would say, and had said on many occasions, he gave his heart too easily. Drew, on the other hand, figured it was because he was a moron with shitty taste in men. Either way the end result was the same. The college boys had stopped, and the shorter of the two accepted the tickets with a smile and a wink. “Are you in the show?” Faith nodded and fluttered her heavily mascaraed eyelashes “You bet I am, sweetness.” “If we come to the show, will we get to see what‟s under your skirt?” the taller one asked with an almost comical leer. “Guess you‟ll have to come to the show to find out, won‟t you?” Faith purred. The boys laughed and promised, yes, they would be there right in the front row. “See you then, sweeties.” Faith blew them a kiss then sent them off with a little finger wave.

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“Oh good, you‟re here.” Turning, Drew found Randy watching from the open entrance of the club. He stepped into the late-afternoon sunshine and joined Drew on the sidewalk. His gaze slid down Drew‟s body, or rather Faith‟s body, encased in shimmering red satin with plunging, rhinestone-encrusted décolletage. He licked his lips. “Gregory‟s in the office. He wants to see you.” “Why?” And he‟d thought this day couldn‟t get any worse. “No clue,” Randy said with a shrug. “He just told me to have you come to the office as soon as you got in.” Shit. “I‟m working out here for another hour.” “Sam just got here. I‟ll send her out.” Randy held out his hand. “Give me your passes and get your gorgeous ass in there. You know how he is when he‟s kept waiting.” With no choice, Drew handed over his stack of free passes. “Tell Sam I‟ll be out as soon as we‟re done.” “Will do.” Randy smiled, but it didn‟t reach his eyes. “I‟m sure it‟s nothing bad, sweetie.” “Sure,” Drew agreed and ducked inside the club. Hurrying past the bar, Drew tried not to make eye contact with any of his friends. He also did his best not to speculate on why the club‟s owner would be summoning him for a private tête-à-tête. What if Gregory had heard about his argument with Randy and his threat to quit the show? What if he was going to be fired, kicked out on his ass for acting like a diva? Don’t think about it. Even if it was, nothing he could do about it now. He couldn‟t unsay what he‟d said about Danny and the rest.

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Too soon Drew reached the closed office door. He took a deep breath and knocked. “Come in.” Drew took another breath, opened the door, and got ready to face the wrath of Gregory. The club owner sat behind the desk. He was kicked back in the cheap leatherette armchair and somehow, by his very presence, managed to lend a veneer of class to the otherwise shabby office. He wore a light linen suit, and his shirt was open at the throat to reveal a hint of chest. His dark hair was more generously sprinkled with silver than the last time Drew had seen him. But it was still perfect with not a strand out of place. “Drew, or should I say Faith? It‟s nice to see you.” Gregory rose and came around the desk. He smiled and held out his hand. “Come in and sit.” Drew came in and took the chair Gregory indicated. If the man was going to rip him a new one, Drew wished he would just get on with it already. But Gregory Manning was too classy for that. “Would you like something? Coffee? Water? Something else?” “No, thanks,” Drew said. He sounded odd even to his own ears. Probably because he‟d been in character as Faith, and dressed as he was in satin and stilettos, it was hard to make the transition back to being Drew. “That‟s some dress,” Gregory said, resuming his seat. “If I didn‟t know better, I‟d swear you were flesh-and-blood female.” Drew couldn‟t help but smile as pleasure at the compliment slid through him. “Thanks, Gregory.” “I‟m looking forward to the show tonight. Randy tells me you‟ve added some new routines since the last time I was here.” Drew nodded. “There‟s a Gypsy number I‟m pretty proud of. The crowd seems to really like it. My tips are definitely up.”

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Please, can we just get on with it? “I‟m sure.” Gregory leaned across the desk and steepled his fingers. “You‟re quite the star around here. I hope you know how much I value you.” Some of the tension in Drew‟s gut eased. This did not sound like the prequel to being fired or having his ass chewed out. So if not that, then what? He nodded again. He felt like a bobblehead doll. Gregory‟s chair squeaked as he leaned back. He folded his impeccably manicured hands and regarded Drew. His smile melted away, and he grew serious. Uh-oh. Here we go. Drew sat forward. Realizing he was wringing his hands in his lap, he forced them to be still, but he could do nothing about the pounding of his pulse. He swallowed hard and waited. “So, Drew. Or should I say Faith?” “Drew is fine.” Gregory chuckled. “That‟s fine, then. So, Drew, I heard you were unhappy about Danny being hired to replace Lyle.” Shit. What was he supposed to say to that? The truth was probably best. “Well, yeah, I was disappointed but—” “And I can understand why. You‟re quite the talented singer, and Randy tells me what you really want is to sing and not just lip-synch. Is that true?” “Randy told you that?” Drew couldn‟t conceal his surprise. “He did. And I heard you sing a month or so ago when I was here for karaoke night. You have a marvelous voice.” “Thank you.” “So, given that singing is what you really want, I have a proposal for you.” “What kind of proposal?”

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“I‟m opening another club. It‟s a project I‟ve had in the works for some time, and I need a headliner, someone with a lot of talent and style, someone I can depend on and who will give the show the right amount of glamour and class.” He smiled. “And I‟d like that person to be you.” “Me?” Gregory nodded. “I‟d like you to be my headline act. The shows will be all female impersonators, a cabaret with real singing, and not the lip-synching like you‟re doing now. Would you be interested in something like that?” “Are you kidding?” “Not kidding. In fact I‟m dead serious. Do you think you‟d be interested?” “Hell, yeah.” Drew felt the smile break across his face. He must look like a total Cheshire cat, but he didn‟t care. He was going to get to sing, for real, the single thing he‟d always wanted. “Great. That‟s really great.” Gregory‟s smile grew. “When do I start?” “Hold on a minute.” Gregory laughed and held up a hand. “There‟s one more thing. It may color your decision.” “I seriously doubt it.” “Still, before you give me your final answer, you should know the new club is going to be in Las Vegas.” Las Vegas. Drew was speechless. Gregory hardly seemed to notice. He went on talking, telling Drew about the new club, which would be called Sequins, and all his plans for the grand opening scheduled for the end of the month, the other performers he‟d hired, the glamorous look of the place. At last he paused and took a breath. “So, what do you say, Drew? Do we have a deal?” “I‟d have to move,” Drew said stupidly.

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Gregory laughed. “Yes, that would be a requirement, as the commute would be rather unmanageable.” “I‟d have to find a place out there and—” “Of course, of course.” Gregory waved this concern away like it was nothing. “But since I need you out there for the opening, you can stay at my condo while you look for a place. Rent free, of course.” Alarm bells sounded in Drew‟s head. He knew, as did nearly everyone connected with the club, about Gregory‟s taste for pretty young men. He knew too with his slender build and finely drawn features, he would fit the bill nicely. Add to that his dad‟s favorite saying, “you get nothing for nothing,” and Drew thought he knew what he was being offered. Still, it was a chance to do what he‟d always dreamed of doing and in a town that was big on glitz and glamour. He thought of Oliver and their fledgling relationship. Oliver, who might be moving here to Key West in a few short months. Oliver with his beautiful eyes and sweet smile and secret boyfriend. “Can I think about it?” Drew asked. “Of course. I expect you‟ll need to tie up some loose ends before you go. Assuming you will be going.” Gregory‟s expression said he had no doubt Drew would be accepting his offer. Drew thanked him and left the office with his stomach in knots and returned to the sidewalk outside the club. Sam was in full flirt mode. Drew watched her absently, his head still spinning with all the possibilities of what Gregory was offering him. “You can go back inside,” he told Sam once she had bid adieu to the group of young men she‟d been flirting with. “I‟ve got it from here.” She studied him with eyebrows raised. “What did Gregory say to you?”

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In a low voice, and as quickly as he could, Drew filled her in on the high points of Gregory‟s offer. He carefully glossed over the parts that caused him the most worry. Typically she zeroed in anyway. “Vegas, huh? Very glamorous.” “I know, right?” Drew grinned, but somehow it felt wrong, like it didn‟t quite fit his face. “Where will you live?” “I‟ll have to get an apartment, I guess.” “And in the meantime? He wants you there by the end of the month, right? So where will you stay until you get a place?” Drew searched the street for a likely group of spring breakers to provide a distraction. At the moment there was no one who would reach them in time. Damn. “Gregory offered to let me stay at his condo.” Drew sort of mumbled the admission and didn‟t look at his friend. Still, he felt her surprise and would have even if she hadn‟t let out a low whistle. “Mmm, he did, did he?” “It‟s not like that,” Drew snapped, a bit too defensively. “Not like what, hon?” “Not like what you‟re thinking.” Sam shrugged and approached a group of tourists who looked too old to be spring breakers. Drew was left alone. His cheeks burned, and he knew he was blushing. He watched Sam hand out a half dozen passes, kiss cheeks, then send her group on their way.

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She returned to where Drew stood by the open entrance. “I think I shocked them. But I think they‟ll come to the show, don‟t you?” “I think the ones you kissed will. Not so sure about the others.” “We‟ll see.” She grinned, then grew serious again. “What about your new boyfriend?” “What do you mean?” “The hunky blond. I thought you were all into him. You just going to say „sorry, babe, got to go to Vegas, and shack up with my boss‟?” “Oh, that‟s totally over. I told you, he was just a spring breaker.” Drew said, completely ignoring the reference to shacking up with Gregory. “Already? And with the week not half over? Didn‟t you two go camping? Overnight? In the same sleeping bag and all?” “We had two sleeping bags.” Though they had used only one. “Well, there‟s your problem. I take it things did not go well?” “I don‟t want to talk about it.” “C‟mon now, hon. I can see something‟s the matter. It‟s all over your pretty face.” Drew rolled his eyes and sighed. But then he figured, what the hell? “Oliver‟s got a boyfriend he neglected to mention. I met him when we got back this morning. Sort of ran into him when I walked him back to the guesthouse.” “A boyfriend right here in Key West?” Drew nodded. “Yep. They came on spring break together. I guess he figured I wouldn‟t find out.” “Awww, sweetie, I‟m sorry. That sucks.” Now it was Drew‟s turn to shrug. “Que sera sera, right?” “I guess.” Sam brightened. “Sort of clears the decks for your move to Vegas, though, so that‟s a good thing.”

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Chapter Ten Okay, so this was maybe the best day of his life and maybe the worst. Oliver snapped his cell phone closed and tried to be happy at the news that he‟d gotten the job he‟d interviewed for at the Westin resort hotel. The place was gorgeous and elegant. It was also his number one choice on the list of jobs for which he‟d interviewed without really expecting a good result. But it was the best result he could have hoped for. So why was he feeling no joy? Because Drew wasn‟t answering his calls, that was why. Nor had he responded to any of the half dozen messages Oliver had left over the course of the afternoon. Oliver stared out over the marina toward Sunset Key. All around him, the daily carnival of the sunset celebration went on. Musicians played, jugglers juggled, and magicians performed for the appreciative crowd. A guy dressed up as living statue posed for pictures with the tourists while a dude in a clown costume and face paint rode a unicycle and whistled Mozart concertos. But none of it brought even the smallest smile to Oliver. He sat alone in the sunset bar, a margarita untouched on the table in front of him. He wished Drew was here to share his good news. But it seemed he‟d fucked things up royally and now wouldn‟t even be given the chance to explain. He picked up his drink and took a sip, hardly tasting the tangy sweetness of the alcohol. At the next table a man stood, a copy of the local paper in his hand. From the corner of his eye, Oliver glimpsed the photograph on the front. It was only a

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glimpse, and he couldn‟t be sure, so he stood and stepped over the guy who was digging in his wallet for money to pay his tab. “Excuse me, could I see your paper for a minute?” The guy glanced up. “You can have it.” “Thanks.” Oliver took the paper, and sure enough, Faith‟s beautiful face smiled at him from the front page. And suddenly, Oliver knew what he had to do. It might not work, but he needed to try all the same.

*** Drew pushed aside the curtain and entered the backstage dressing area. The beads swung and clicked behind him, the sound blending with the DJ‟s dance-mix, the music that accompanied the drag queens‟ exit from the stage. The place was a wreck, the way it always was after a show with dresses and shoes, wigs hats, scarves and jewelry everywhere as if some fashionista‟s closet had exploded and scattered debris in all directions. He would have company any minute when the other performers finished collecting their tips, but for the moment he was alone. Slinky material whispered and sighed as Drew shoved a pile of brightly colored dresses to the floor and sank into the chair they had occupied. He groaned as he slid his feet out of the scarlet, peep-toe heels, which, while they might make his legs look amazing, hurt like a mother. He pulled his aching left foot up onto his right thigh and began massaging the instep. He did the same with the other one then, letting his still-aching foot slide to the floor, rose and went to the dressing table to begin removing his makeup. As Drew sat down on the vanity stool and reached for a Kleenex, the beaded curtain parted, and in the mirror, he saw Oliver standing in the doorway. What the hell was he doing here? And where were the bouncers who were supposed to keep the audience members out of the performers‟ area?

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Drew saw his own surprise, or rather Faith‟s, reflected in the glass. Her heavily made-up eyes widened, and her scarlet lips formed a silent O. The Kleenex fluttered to the table, and they stared at each other for what might have been a minute or an hour. “Excuse me,” Oliver said. “But can I come in?” He knows, was all Drew could think. He freaking knows, and now he‟s here to bust me. Wait. He cut the thought off. Just chill a minute. How could he know? And even if he did, it couldn‟t be a problem unless he, Drew, let it be. Drew took a breath and tried to calm his racing pulse. Easy now. Let him make the first move. Faith smiled at Oliver in the mirror. “Why sure, sugar. Come on in.” Oliver returned her smile and stepped into the cluttered space. “I‟m sorry to bother you. You probably don‟t even remember me, but…” Don‟t remember him? Drew had a sudden flash of memory, this beautiful boy sweaty and naked under him, Oliver‟s long, thick cock buried to the hilt in Drew‟s ass, fucking him hard and deep, sending him over the edge and into oblivion. Yeah, like he‟d soon forget that. Drew fought to control his expression and not let any of what he felt show on Faith‟s face. Was it possible Oliver really didn‟t know the boy he‟d slept with last night and the drag queen sitting in front of him were one and the same person? Apparently it was. “A few nights ago, you gave me this.” Oliver produced the leather rosebud and offered it. “Or actually, I gave it to you first; then you gave it back to me. Do you remember?” “So it was you who left that for me.” “Yeah.” Oliver held out the flower. “I‟d really like you to have it back.”

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Drew felt like an observer as he watched Faith accept the flower from Oliver. Their fingers brushed, and the brief touch tingled all the way up Drew‟s arm and sizzled throughout his body. Inside his thong his dick stirred. God, he couldn‟t do this. But Faith could. Faith could do anything. He let her step up and take over. “Aren‟t you sweet?” Lifting the rosebud to her face, she stroked it along her cheek, her gaze steady on Oliver. “Is that what you came here for? To give me back this flower?” “No, not exactly. I wanted to talk to you about…” He hesitated. The seconds ticked by, and Oliver seemed stuck, unable to say what he wanted or even to speak at all. “About what?” Faith tucked the rose into her fake cleavage. Oliver followed the movement of her hand. He licked his lips. “It‟s about your roommate.” “You mean Drew? What about him?” “Well, see, we went out a couple times, and—Did he mention me by any chance?” Okay, so, to lie or not to lie—that would be the question. But before the question had to be answered, the curtained was pushed aside, and Gregory appeared in the doorway, his arms loaded down with roses. Without waiting for an invitation, he entered the dressing room and walked to where Faith sat. “Fantastic show! You were so right about the Gypsy number.” He held out the flowers, bent, and kissed Faith‟s cheek. “For my star. You were fabulous tonight.” Heat suffused Drew‟s face, and he had no choice but to take the flowers. “Thanks, Gregory.” From the corner of his eye, Drew saw Oliver edging toward the curtain as if he meant to slip away.

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“Oliver, wait.” Laying the roses aside, Drew stood. In his stocking feet, he was shorter than both of the other men. “Gregory, this is Oliver. Oliver, my boss, Gregory. He owns Mango Mango.” “I hope we‟re also friends, Drew.” Gregory turned to Oliver and extended his hand. “It‟s nice to meet you.” But Oliver wasn‟t looking at Gregory. No, he was staring at Faith. “Drew? Did he just—Are you—” Yeah, he was so busted. What could he do but cop to it, all of it? Reaching up, Drew pulled off his wig and dropped it to the floor. “Yeah, Ollie. It‟s me.”

Oliver stared as Drew, or Faith, or somebody shoved fingers through dark hair damp with sweat but familiar in its cut and color. In fact, less than twenty-four hours ago, he‟d run his own fingers through that hair, and he remembered well how soft and silky it was. This person standing before him was very definitely Drew. Despite the dress and false boobage and the makeup, he could see it now, the unmistakable likeness between the boy from the bike-rental shop, the boy he‟d given his cherry to, and the drag queen of his dreams. “Jesus, it is you!” And Oliver laughed. Those beautiful, familiar dark eyes widened, then Drew turned to Gregory. “Could you give us a minute?” Gregory looked totally confused, but he smiled and nodded graciously. “Of course. I‟ll be at the bar.” Once he was gone, Drew turned back to Oliver. “I‟m sorry. I should have told you, I guess.” “Why didn‟t you?”

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“Because I liked you, and I didn‟t want you to think I was a freak. Now I guess you just think I‟m a liar, and that is so much better.” Drew laughed, the sound filled with disgust. “Well, I wasn‟t exactly Mr. Honesty either, about Jonathan and all.” “So we‟re a couple of lying assholes.” Drew sank down on the stool and lowered his head into his hands. “That‟s great. What a pair.” “I don‟t think you‟re a freak,” Oliver said. “If that helps. I might have a few days ago, but not now.” Drew raised his head and gazed at him from the face that was a strange blend of the boy who had made love with him for the first time and the drag queen Oliver hadn‟t been able to stop thinking about since that mind-blowing kiss. “What changed from a few days ago?” “I like you,” Oliver said simply. “Even when you‟re…you know, like this, with the dress and the makeup and all, I still like you because you‟re still you. This is nothing but packaging. And since I‟m being so honest, I kind of like that too.” Drew smiled. “I like you too. But you‟re leaving in a couple of days, so—” “Yeah, but I‟ll be back.” Oliver filled Drew in on the job offer and his plans to move to Key West as soon as school was done. “And what about Jonathan?” “We really are broken up. It‟s a long story, and I‟ll be glad to tell you, but we really aren‟t together anymore.” Drew leaned back and propped his elbows on the edge of the dressing table. “Wow, so you‟re really coming back sans boyfriend, huh?” Oliver nodded. “Looks like.” “I sort of have something else I should tell you too.” “Don‟t tell me—you have a boyfriend.”

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Drew shook his head. “No, but I have a job offer in Las Vegas. They want me there by the end of the month.” Oliver felt all the joy drain out of him as if someone had pulled a plug. “Las Vegas. Wow. That‟s far.” Drew nodded. “The job is at a new club Gregory‟s opening called Sequins.” “So when do you leave?” Oliver forced the question past his disappointment. But he couldn‟t quite manage to add congratulations. “I haven‟t said I‟d take it yet.” Drew sat forward, his gaze intent on Oliver. “I was kind of waiting to hear about another position.” “What‟s that?” “Well, I hear there might be an opening as your boyfriend, if you think I could qualify.” Oliver laughed, his relief so strong it weakened his knees. “I think you‟d be perfect for the job.” “Me too,” Drew said. He stood and reached for Oliver. “So, have you got a place to live yet?” “Not yet. I need to find something pretty fast, I guess.” Oliver stepped into Drew‟s arms and pulled him close. God, but he felt good and so right even with the false padding. “Want to move in with me?” Drew nuzzled the sensitive spot under Oliver‟s ear. “I‟d like that.” Oliver let his hands slide down Drew‟s body, over the slippery satin of his skirt, and down to his ass. “But maybe we should see how Faith feels about it first.” “Oh, I think she‟ll be fine with it.” Drew angled his hips, his erection pushing against Oliver‟s growing hardness as Drew smiled up into his eyes. “In fact, I think she‟ll be thrilled.”

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Epilogue The final bars of the vintage Cher song faded, the rich contralto holding those last notes even as the applause burst like water through a dam. The slender figure in shimmering silver bowed and blew kisses, soaking up the audience‟s adoration like it was her due, which of course it was. Backstage Oliver‟s heart swelled with pride and pleasure as he watched from his place secreted behind the curtain. He knew well how much the cheers and applause meant to his lover, how far every smile and compliment went toward validating the choices Drew had made over the past months. With a wave and a flurry of kisses, Drew‟s alter ego, Faith Cummings, strutted off the stage. Hair damp with sweat and face glowing, the glamorous Faith launched herself into Oliver‟s arms. Before a word was exchanged, they locked lips. It had become a tradition, a good-luck charm passed between them before and after every show. Her slim, stocking-clad legs wrapped around Oliver‟s waist, her fingers fisted in his hair as their tongues tangled. Oliver was swamped by the feel and taste and scent of his lover, both sides of his lover, the sexy boy who rented bikes by day and the glitzy drag queen who wowed audiences by night. He adored them both. At last the kiss broke. Faith unwound her legs and leaned back in Oliver‟s arms. “Well?” “You were amazing as always.” Oliver grinned. “You know you were. It‟s all over your face.” “I was, wasn‟t I?” The laugh was rich and throaty.

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They kissed again, longer, deeper, hotter this time. Oliver‟s dick stiffened in his jeans. He adjusted his hold, sliding his hands down to Faith‟s—Drew‟s—most excellent ass and angling their bodies to bring their cocks into closer alignment. “You‟re hard for me,” Oliver murmured against his lover‟s lips. “I am. Which is why we have to get out of here like right fucking now.” “I thought we were supposed to have drinks with Gregory and his friends after the show.” “We were, but we aren‟t. C‟mon.” Slipping out of Oliver‟s arms, Faith caught his hand and began dragging him through the warren of backstage hallways. They reached what Oliver assumed must be the club‟s rear door. Faith hit the emergency bar, the door opened, and they spilled into the night. Even though Drew had turned down the job at Sequins, Gregory had asked him if Faith would do a weeklong series of appearances to help launch the new club. Drew had agreed, but only after he‟d talked Oliver into coming with him as a sort of graduation trip. And now here the two of them were, in Vegas, all expenses paid, and having the time of their lives. Oliver knew he should feel guilty for blowing off drinks with their host and sneaking off like this, but as his lover‟s hand closed around his and they ducked down the alley behind Sequins, he couldn‟t seem to manage it. Behind them the door opened, and a voice called, “Hey, Faith! Where are you going?” “Hurry,” Faith snapped and began to run. “How can you run in those shoes?” Oliver asked as he was dragged around a corner and down a side street. Thinking of the four-inch silver stilettos Faith had been wearing on stage, Oliver could imagine sprained ankles and a trip to the ER instead of a romantic

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evening of hot, sweaty sex with his sweetie. But when he tried to slow down, Faith only picked up speed. She grinned at him over her shoulder. “Baby, when you‟re used to dancing in spikes, running‟s a snap, especially with the right motivation.” Oliver laughed even as his heart skipped a beat, and forgot all about Gregory and the après-show drinks. He wondered briefly when Faith would recede and Drew would reappear. Not that it mattered to him. Whether the transition took minutes or hours— and it could be either depending on the night—it made no difference, as he was crazy about them both. Feet pounding the pavement, they rounded another corner, and their hotel came into view. With a glance behind them, Faith slowed the pace and slipped an arm through Oliver‟s. “Wheeew, that was close. I thought for a minute we wouldn‟t make it.” “I‟m glad you didn‟t want to go out,” Oliver said as they made their way along the sidewalk. Neon flashed, and music spilled from open doorways. It reminded him a little of Key West on steroids, if Key West had somehow gotten plunked down in the middle of the desert. Inside the hotel, they crossed the lobby arm in arm and stopped in front of the bank of elevators. Oliver couldn‟t help noticing the glances they attracted. And why not? Faith was gorgeous, and he was, without a doubt, the luckiest guy in the place to have her on his arm. The elevator dinged, the doors slid back, and they stepped in. Oliver punched the button for their floor, and the doors closed. They were alone. He found himself pressed back against the side of the elevator, his lover‟s slender body plastered against him. “Kiss me, Ollie. I‟m so—”

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The words cut off as their mouths came together. The hot, potent flavor of man flooded Oliver‟s mouth and heated his system. His cock, already half-hard from anticipation alone, swelled and pushed against his zipper. Drew—and Oliver could tell it was Drew now—shifted in Oliver‟s arms, letting the hard length of their erections brush. The contact was electric even through their clothes. “Oh, God,” Oliver gasped. He slid his hands down to the tempting swell of Drew‟s ass. He loved the way the slick silver fabric skimmed the lean lines and hard muscles of the beautiful boy in his arms. “I want you,” Drew murmured. He nipped Oliver‟s throat, his hand sliding down and cupping Oliver‟s erection. “Right now.” The elevator stopped on their floor and the door opened. With their arms still around each other, they circled out of the elevator and down the hall to their door. Oliver dug the key card from his pocket and jabbed it at the slot. He missed and fumbled, nearly dropping the card, thanks to the busy, clever hands already working their way inside his jeans. “Let me unlock the door.” Oliver laughed, then gasped when Drew clamped long fingers around his dick. “God!” Breathless and aching for more than just Drew‟s hands, Oliver jammed the key card into the slot. The lock beeped, the door opened, and they fell into the room. “Hurry. I want you right now.” Drew yanked the end of Oliver‟s belt free of the buckle, then flipped open the button. He pushed at the jeans, edging them down his boyfriend‟s hips. “Now, baby, now.” “How?” “Like this. I want you to fuck me just like this.”

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They tumbled on to the king-size bed in a tangle of arms and legs. They rolled over twice and nearly fell off the other side before they stopped with Oliver ending up on top. He propped himself on his elbows and studied his lover‟s face. Skin flushed, lips and eyes smudged, it was still the most beautiful face Oliver had ever seen, caught between boy and girl, public mask and private revelation. Oliver framed the perfect face between his palms. “You‟re so beautiful.” Drew smiled up at him. “Am I? You want to fuck me? You sure?” “You know I do. You make me so hard. Faith makes me so hard. God, Drew, I never knew I could want…” “I did. I do.” Drew‟s smile turned sultry, and he lowered his lashes. “Now show me how much.” Reaching down between them, Oliver tugged up the slinky silver skirt and bunched it around Drew‟s waist. The underwear was black and sheer and hardly covered his lover‟s straining erection. The sight of it stole his breath. Sliding down he rubbed his cheek against his lover‟s cock, his beard stubble rasping softly over the delicate fabric of the thong. He turned his head and pressed his lips against the hot, hard flesh, mouthing the length through the whisper-thin material until he reached the head. He sucked, savoring the familiar flavor of his lover and the arousing feel of silk against his lips and tongue. “Please, Ollie, do it now. I can‟t wait.” Drew fisted his fingers in Oliver‟s hair and tugged. Ignoring the slight pain in his scalp, Oliver moved lower, trailing his lips over the smooth golden skin, bare above the tops of the glittery stockings. He ran his hands down the slim legs and circled his fingertips lightly over the secret sensitive place behind Drew‟s knee. He was rewarded with a sigh and a moan. “Please, Ollie?”

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Pressing a kiss to the inside of his lover‟s knee, Oliver fumbled a condom from the pocket of the jeans scrunched around his thighs. He tore it open and sheathed himself before getting to his knees and grabbing the lube from the bedside table. Drew bent his knees, exposing himself in a familiar move designed to make Oliver hurry. He yanked the thong aside and fingered his hole. “C‟mon, I‟m dying here. I need you inside me.” Oliver chuckled. It was always like this after a particularly good show—Drew needy and begging for speed, Oliver taking his time and savoring every moment, every gesture on the way to being joined so intimately with his lover. Lube squelched from the bottle into his palm. Oliver spread a generous amount over his cock, then slicked up his fingers. Slowly, carefully, he slid one, then two into Drew‟s hole, scissoring them apart, gently stretching and getting him ready. Inching closer, Oliver positioned his cock, then paused. “Open your eyes, baby. I want to see you.” Drew‟s lashes fluttered, his eyes opened, and he focused on Oliver‟s face. “Fuck me.” The words came out on a purr, the voice half Drew and half Faith and more erotic than Oliver had thought possible. He pressed forward and slowly pushed inside, filling his lover‟s ass, concentrating on not going too fast, afraid if he did, he might come, and it would be over too soon. “Ah, God.” Drew sighed. “Feels so… Ollie, need you. Give me more. Please?” “Whatever you want.” Oliver panted. Sweat ran from his hairline and dripped into his eyes. It stung, and he blinked it away.

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He continued with a slow, steady pressure, not stopping until he was buried balls-deep in his lover‟s channel. The heat was exquisite, the tight grip gloriously mind-numbing. He focused on the dark eyes gazing up at him, the full lips, wet and parted just enough to show a hint of tongue. “Ollie.” A warm hand cupped Oliver‟s cheek before fingers combed back the hair flopping over his eyes. “Drew… Faith… God…” Oliver turned his head and pressed his lips to the inside of his lover‟s wrist. He‟d never thought he could feel so much and so quickly. It exhilarated and terrified him. “I think I‟m crazy about you, baby.” The words were spoken softly, a husky sigh that wasn‟t much more than a breath. “Me too,” Oliver murmured, and he began to move.

Loose Id Titles by Kimberly Gardner Almost Heaven Dressed to Thrill

Kimberly Gardner Kimberly has been making up stories for as long as she can remember. As early as the seventh grade, she recalls slashing her favorite rock stars for her own and her friends‟ enjoyment. It was also around that time that she began a lifelong love affair with the romance genre, devouring category romances as fast as she could smuggle them into the house. So it‟s not all that surprising that her two passions, romance and putting pretty boys with other pretty boys, would ultimately come together in her writing. Moliere said, “Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, then for a few close friends, then for money.” Kimberly is delighted at long last to be doing it for money.