IN ALL THE DRAG JOINTS in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine. Why couldn’t Oliver Knight, make that Pastor Ollie, take a hint and realize I wasn’t interested in him? Liar! Okay, why couldn’t he understand I wasn’t interested in him any longer? My interest was a fleeting thing, lasting a mere thirty minutes before someone from his congregation stopped by his table to say hello. Only I would get a raging boner looking into the eyes of a man who devoted his life to religion, a religion which had no room for me and my kind. His kind too. It was shocking how quickly my hard-on deflated when God or religion was brought up in a conversation.
Ollie knew it too; I could see the dawn of recognition in his eyes. Of course, me jerking my hand off his thigh like it had been bitten was a pretty big hint. If that hadn’t given me away, my expedient departure from the table or my refusal to return his phone calls or text messages in the following days should’ve done the trick. If nothing else, I learned not to give my fucking phone number out so damn fast to strangers, because the messages he’d sent still haunted me a month later.
Come on, Archie. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.
I don’t know why you’re pretending not to be attracted to me. Or is rubbing your hand up and down a man’s thigh your usual way of saying hello.
I dreamed about you last night…
A wise sinner would delete the shit off his phone and forget the man who sent them. Not this dumbass. I used the images they stirred to masturbate twice a day. Ollie was the first and last thing on my mind every fucking day for a month. I wanted to hate him for it, but his earnest, dark eyes wouldn’t permit it, especially the worshipful way he looked at me like I was the altar he wished to kneel before.
Damn it! I just had another image to add to my growing collection. Me sucking him off beneath the table, Ollie biting my neck as he fucks me aggressively from behind, him waking up hard and wanting and reaching for his cock to ease the ache. Now, I’m kneeling before him and sucking his cock…how? Under his robes? Did he wear robes? Did I think the robes were sexy? Was he naked under there? What if he wore the black pants and black shirt with the white collar? Oh, that was for sure sexy. He’d leave the collar on while I gave him head. I’d see it, but it would be out of focus because I wouldn’t be able to look away from his demanding eyes.
Fuck! My skinny jeans were two sizes too skinny and were already threatening to cut off the circulation to my boy parts. How long had I stared gaping at him after his dorky but adorable attempt to volunteer? I could almost expect a Boy Scout salute or even a Katniss Everdeen tribute salute, but Val Kilmer quotes from Tombstone? It seemed Pastor Ollie was an endless source of surprise for me.
“Well then,” I said sassily. “Come on up here, Huckleberry.” Ollie’s mouth fell open like he hadn’t expected me to agree to his offer, or maybe he was still shocked he’d made it to begin with. “Don’t be shy now. Mistress Gracie Lou Fullbush won’t hurt you. Well, maybe a little, but some people are into a little pain. Does it get you off?” Oh, fuck! What was I doing?
“I’m up for just about anything,” Ollie boldly stated then began making his way to the stage. How dare he look so delicious in his pressed, button-down shirt? The stark white fabric made his skin, hair, and eyes look darker. His jeans were tighter than I’d expect a pastor to wear. The dark fabric had a velvety sheen, and it clung so beautifully to his muscled thighs and lovingly cupped his crotch. I wanted to lovingly cup his—
“Here I am,” he said, standing before me. How had he arrived so fast? What magic did this man possess to ensnare and enslave my interest when I intellectually knew he was all wrong for me. “Reporting for duty.”
“A glutton for pain, are you?” I asked, dramatically quirking a brow.
“Apparently.” He stared me right in the eye, and I knew he was referring to the way I’d ignored him the past month. “A real pain slut,” he added.
My shocked gasp turned into a sputtering cough. Who was this collared man, and why did I suddenly want him to wear a different kind of collar? One attached to a chain holding him in place while a mysterious, masked man took a riding crop to his firm, round ass. I didn’t need to shout, “You there; take off that mask and reveal yourself,” because I knew who was hiding behind the mask and what he didn’t want anyone, especially the kneeling man, to see. Consuming want. Debilitating need. If I weren’t careful, I’d make a fool of myself and reveal the emotions he stirred inside me.
Ollie matched my raised brow with one of his while we silently stood there staring into each other’s eyes. I needed to find a dark-eyed stranger to fuck so I could work him out of my system. The smile slowly spreading across his face indicated he knew just how far he’d thrown me with his words and actions. I was never one to surrender the final word to anyone, not even a worthy adversary like Pastor Fuck-Me Eyes.
“You’re in for a real treat then,” I said innocently, but my wicked smile gave me away. “Everyone…” I said, turning away from Ollie to face the audience. My words died because there wasn’t a single soul moving in the crowd. They were raptly watching the exchange between us. Could they feel the electricity arcing between us? Could they see my white-knuckle grip on the microphone and the way my other hand was glued to my hip because I was seconds away from dropping the act, and the mic, and reaching for Ollie? “What the fuck are you all staring at?” I demanded in my best drag voice. Ollie flinched beside me. Was it because of my gruff voice or my crude language? “Who wants to see Mr. Goody Two-Shoes here learn a lesson or two in submitting?”
The crowd went wild, especially his group of friends sitting front and center. I looked back at Ollie to give him a chance to change his mind, but I saw he’d accepted the challenge. In fact, he appeared to relish it.
“Gentlemen,” I said, signaling the stagehands to bring out the plush spanking bench covered in purple velvet. It looked like something a kinky Victorian would’ve kept in their home. The fellas turned the bench sideways to give the audience the best view. They’d see every blow Gracie Lou landed on his ass while I’d be standing off to the side of the stage where I’d see every expression crossing his face. It would be torture, but I had to accept my punishment just as he would.
Ollie proudly walked to the bench then winked at me once he was in position. “Comfy,” he said, leaning his chest against the curve of the bench designed to support his upper body while his ass was up in the air.
“Glad you think so.” I strolled over to the bench and squatted down. Ollie lifted his head up and looked into my eyes while I pulled open the small drawers built at the bottom of the chair that discreetly hid the padded cuffs. “Do I have your permission?” I asked, rattling one of the cuffs. It wasn’t part of Gracie Lou’s instructions to me before the show, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Was it my desire to touch him once more? Was I that big of a masochist? “Do I have your permission, Oliver?”
“You do,” he said, daring me to do it. “Will I need a safe word?”
“Do you want to have a safe word?”
“How about Archie?” he asked me. And, of course, I couldn’t stop my mind from imagining him calling out my name in ecstasy while riding my cock. Damn him. Damn my horny brain. Damn the fucking world.
“Fine. You shout my name as loud as you want, and I’ll come rescue you from Mistress Gracie Lou.” I set the microphone on the stage so I could use both hands to secure Ollie. I bit my lip to keep from crying out when my bare skin touched his. He electrified every molecule in my body, and I was certain the mic picked up the sound of precum dripping in my briefs.
“Perfect.”
“There’s my cue to exit the stage. You’ll want to hold onto your cocks during this performance, but I advise you to just hold onto your hats so we don’t get shut down for lewdness.”
“What about you?” someone asked from the audience. “Jacking off in the shadows?”
“Maybe,” I said coyly, earning delighted cheers from the crowd. I blew Ollie a kiss and exited the stage.
The loud techno beat of Christina Aguilera’s “Keeps Gettin’ Better” began, and Mistress Gracie Lou Fullbush took the stage wearing a black leather bustier, the tiniest leather boy shorts I’d ever seen, and matching leather, lace-up boots that came up to her fishnet-covered thighs.
“Spank him! Spank him!” the crowd chanted.
Milo approached where I stood in the shadows. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed. I turned to look at him and noticed he was only half dressed as Peach. “Ollie is a very good friend, Andy’s sponsor, and a pastor. Why the hell did you allow him to get tied up and—” His voice was drowned out by the audience cheering when Gracie Lou mimed fucking Ollie’s pert ass. Unwanted jealousy rose swift and hard, making me want to march out there and free Ollie for… What did I want to do with him? To him? For him?
Whack! Gracie Lou didn’t hit him hard, but it sounded like she’d smacked him a good one. Ollie flinched a little before a wicked smile danced on his lips. I needed to turn and address Milo, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off Ollie, and neither could he look away from me.
“I don’t even know why I’m bothering,” Milo groused beside me. “Don’t play games with him, Archie. You’re a better person than this.”
Usually, I would’ve agreed with him, but right then, all I wanted was to know Ollie’s taste—his lips, his skin, and his cum.
“I know you don’t get out much with all the responsibilities you have, but Ollie isn’t the kind of guy you scratch an itch with. Find someone else to fuck and forget, Archie.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, dismissing him. He offered sound advice, but I could fuck a hundred brown-eyed guys, and I’d still want Oliver Knight. Milo stomped off in a huff because he knew I was blowing him off.
My eyes stayed locked on Ollie’s during the entire performance. I felt every playful slap Gracie Lou landed as if I was the one leaning over the bench. I stood far enough in the shadows there was no way Ollie could see me, yet he knew I was there. He felt my presence as surely as I felt his. When the song ended, I was supposed to go out onto the stage and let everyone know there was a twenty-minute intermission between the first and second half of the show, but I stood as still as a statue as Gracie Lou freed Ollie while telling bawdy jokes about his arousal and whimpering sounds of need.
I was seconds away from coming in my pants. Maybe Gracie Lou picked up on the vibes between us before she walked onto the stage because she took pity on me and made the intermission announcement while Ollie made a beeline straight for me.
“Loverboy, your seat is that way,” Gracie Lou said. “He must need a bathroom break to”—she mimed jacking off with her right hand—“before he returns to his friends. Wait for me, honey,” she called playfully but exited from the opposite side of the stage as the crowd roared with laughter.
The DJ started playing music to entertain the crowd during intermission. “Dirrty” started playing just as Ollie stopped in front of me. I didn’t act coy and ask what he wanted, I took him by the hand and led him to the prop closet down the hallway.
“This means nothing,” I said when I pushed him up against the closed door. “I’m not sending you flowers tomorrow. I won’t be answering your texts. I won’t think about you another second after tonight.”
I didn’t give him a chance to answer me; I crushed my lips against his. I loved the fact we were nearly the same height. No one had to strain to reach anything. We fit together so fucking perfectly. Ollie parted his lips, maybe to welcome me or maybe to gasp in surprise, but either way, I took advantage to slip just the tip of my tongue inside his mouth to tease and tantalize. Ollie rounded his mouth and sucked my tongue deeper inside his mouth.
A needy whimper purred in my throat, and my hands fisted his crisp, white dress shirt on either side of his waist. Ollie didn’t choose to place his hands in a chaste place as I had, he placed them at the gap between the bottom of my lacy shirt and the top of my skinny jeans, circling the bare skin with his fingers before slipping a hand under my jeans to tease the crack of my ass through my underwear.
Ollie ripped his mouth off mine and stared at me with dazed eyes and a gaping mouth. “You’re wearing lace underwear too?”
“Matches my shirt,” I said in a “duh” tone of voice. “We only have twenty minutes.”
“I probably only need two,” Ollie huskily said before he leaned closer and licked a trail from my collarbone up to my chin, stopping only to suck my Adam’s apple into his mouth. “We could always wait and do this after the show when you’re not pressed for time. I’d really love to draw this,” he illustrated his intentions by circling my pucker with his finger, “out for as long as you’ll let me.”
“This is all I can give you, Ollie.” I claimed his lips again before he could protest.
Ollie didn’t appear to object to anything but the clothes between us because he moved his hand from the back of my jeans around to the front to attack my fly.
It was then when my conscience clubbed me over the head. Milo’s words echoed in my ears even louder than my thudding heart.
“Don’t play games with him, Archie.”
“You’re a better person than this.”
“Ollie isn’t the kind of guy you scratch an itch with.”
“Find someone else to fuck and forget, Archie.”
“Archie?” Ollie softly asked when I pulled back from our kiss suddenly. I took several steps back and turned so I wasn’t looking at him. I required distance between us to say what I needed to. I couldn’t do it while staring into eyes that showed me how badly he craved my touch. I couldn’t push him away while looking at the way his dick rose stiff and hard for me. I’d caught a quick glance of the outline of his erection pushing against his white underwear through the gap in his open jeans. Only Ollie could make those boring briefs look so damn sexy. Fuck me. I wanted to drop to my knees and rub my nose against it, learning his smell before I learned his taste.
“This won’t work,” I said firmly. “I can’t do this.”
“You’re right. You deserve to be treated better than this.” Ouch! He’d just turned the invisible knife I’d driven into my own heart. “This isn’t the place—”
“The location has nothing to do with it,” I firmly said, cutting him off. “It’s you.”
“Me? You mean my profession?”
I turned around to face him once more. “What kind of pastor sends the dirty texts you do? What man of God looks at me the way you do?”
“How do I look at you?” Ollie calmly asked me.
“Like you want to fuck from sunset to sunrise, nap, and start all over again.”
“You’re not wrong, but you might be exaggerating my stamina a bit.”
“I’m not joking, Oliver.”
“Nor am I, Archie. You should know, there’s more I lust for than to know you physically.”
“You want to know me philosophically?” I challenged, raising my head.
“I want to know everything there is about you, Archie. I’d like to know why you’re pretending you don’t want the same thing.”
“You’re wrong, Oliver. I want to feel your dick in my ass or shove mine in yours. I don’t want to take long walks down by the river, knit, or meet your folks. All I can offer you is a quick, dirty fuck right here, right now.”
Ollie released a long, sad sigh then began closing his pants. “That’s a shame. I had hoped to explore these feelings between us.”
“I offered—”
“You offered your body, Archie. I want more. You should demand I want more too.”
“Who are you to know what I should or shouldn’t demand? You know—” I shook my head. “Ollie, I need you to stop sending me wet-dream-inducing texts and staring at me with such naked want and desire when you come in here. I’d rather you not come back here at all, but I don’t have the right to ask or insist on it. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“You’ll see me in your dreams and every other time you close your eyes. I know this because you’ll be waiting for me when I close mine.”
“You are without a doubt the worst pastor I’ve ever heard of,” I said, borrowing and tweaking my favorite line in Pirates of the Caribbean.
“But you have heard of me.” He gave me a jaunty, two-finger salute and left me staring into space long after the door closed.
“I’m so fucked.”