I wait at the bar of the night club, Enchanted, for my friend Jake Victor. We’ve been in contact about his new business venture so much that tonight is supposed to be a fun night out on the town, but I have a feeling with his anxiety, it’ll be another night to talk shop.

I sip my Long Island Iced Tea and glance around the room looking for Jake. I was out of my comfort zone the minute I walked into the place. Men were paired up everywhere, with the occasional heterosexual couple chatting up a single guy, but the atmosphere was pretty obvious. Jake is out and open about being gay, and I respect that, but I pull the rim of my white hat lower over my eyes.

I hear my phone ping and glance at the screen. Figures, he’s going to be half an hour to forty-five minutes late. He had to oversee the delivery of the wardrobe stylists’ clothing racks.

I’d flown in the week before and had been staying at a swanky hotel on the glittering beaches of Miami, but I hadn’t had the opportunity to enjoy the city and all it has to offer. Jake and I have been going over the details of the promotional video, and work has kept me busy to the point that, after a sixteen-hour day, I haven’t wanted to go out.

I sip my drink and sigh. I hope Jake’s unending faith in my ability pays off. He’s sinking all his savings into this new business. He has investors backing his idea to cater to the gay couples’ scene. The cruise is specifically designed for them, and the promotional video will help the reputation of the new cruise line, Victor Voyages. I figure a social media blast to some of the forums Jake is a member of will really help his business thrive and as the producer, it’s my job to make sure the footage is glamorous and appealing. The maiden voyage is full of special guests, actors, singers, and other social media celebrities, who received personal invitations provided they promote the cruise afterwards. Jake had spared no expense on the stylists for clothing, hair or makeup. Everyone knows the cruise is a ruse and that we all have a part to play so there will be less relaxing and more work than anything.

I’m nearing the bottom of the glass and the bartender is quick to give me another. As I’m reaching for my wallet, someone slides a card past my right elbow and I glance down, then up.

“His drink is on me,” the man says.

The man is tall, with striking green eyes. I’d say a model of some kind with a West Coast influence. His sandy blond hair is blown out and arranged in an artful way to appear purposefully messy, but there isn’t a strand out of place from the amount of mousse and hairspray he has in it. His clothes are impeccable. It isn’t often I see men in Miami in anything other than bathing suits or shorts and tank tops, but he’s dressed to impress. He has on a suit, sans jacket, but he intentionally left a couple of buttons undone at the chest, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up.

I tug at my own collar, feeling the flush crawl up my neck. He’s casual disarray rolled into intentional perfection, as if he’d planned the dichotomy of his appearance.

“Thank you for the drink,” I murmur, looking down into the glass. He’s standing so close I can smell his cologne, Coach. I inhale and feel my pulse quicken, which makes me squirm in my seat. I like the high-end scents and everything about this man screams sexiness. I hadn’t expected to chat with anyone other than Jake, and this man’s confident presence is throwing me off.

“New to town?” the man’s voice is soft and confident, like he’s completely comfortable with who he is and where he is.

I nod and take a sip of the drink. Jake would have a fit if he saw me. Never accept a drink from a stranger, right? Well, Jake is going to be half an hour late and this drink came straight from the bartender, so I’d wager it’s safe.

I sneak a peek out from under the brim of my hat, and the stranger smiles at me. His smile is dazzling, with perfect white teeth, and mesmerizing eyes that crinkle at the corners. I love being around people who laugh a lot. I have a high stress job with a lot of daily tension, and laugh lines are a clear indication that the person can relax and find the bliss in life. My breath catches and I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or the arousal, because I feel lightheaded at the same time I feel my dick begin to throb. What is wrong with me? This is a stranger. This…this is a man! I mean, I’ve checked out gay porn out of curiosity, but this is Jake’s scene. I’d never tell anyone I am—well that I—I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I haven’t been in a relationship in years. I’d dived into my career and forgotten how confusing the whole dating scene is. Women are fine, but in terms of romantic relationships, there’s just no spark, so I always figured it was just me. At thirty-seven, I was closer to middle aged and focused on my career as a producer.

“You aren’t from around here, are you?” the man asks, casually leaning his hip against the bar.

I look down the length of him and wonder if he’s just as aroused as I am. I figure I can’t continue to not answer the guy, that would be rude. I glance away quickly in hopes that he hasn’t caught me checking him out. It seems wrong, somehow, to do that.

“Fort Lauderdale,” I croak. I clear my throat and take a sip of my drink. I try to think of anything else besides the man standing next to me. I swish the liquid around in my glass.

“It’s nice to see someone who’s a little more old school on the threads,” the stranger comments.

I frown, realizing he is talking about me. I hadn’t given much thought to my own suit and tie, but I’ve always felt first impressions meant a lot.

“Thanks. They go with my hat,” this must have been the stupidest thing to ever come out of my mouth. I touch the brim gently and the man’s smile deepens.

“I like the hat too. It distinguishes you.”

I smile, unable to help myself. The next instant, someone bumps into my left side, sending me toppling off my bar stool, and my drink spills all across the top of the bar.

“Hey, watch it!” I turn to the two men who are fooling around.

“Let’s get you another drink and find somewhere a little less crowded to sit. I think there’s a table up on the balcony in the back. It’s dark and offers more privacy. You might be a little more comfortable there.”

I nod in agreement and the bartender, already wiping up the drink and nodding to the bouncers to haul the two men out, is quick to pour me another one. I watch the back of the man as we walk towards the chrome and glass stairs, through and around gyrating bodies. The scent of musk and cologne hangs in the air like a curtain, and I’m pleased the table we find in the back is dark and within direct shot of the air conditioner. It offers a reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere. I sit on the bench and face the crowd below us. The benches are partitioned off by heavy curtains, offering privacy, but with a view of the dance floor. The man sits next to me and he’s so close I can feel the press of his arm on my shoulder.

I reach over and place my drink on the table at the end of the cushioned bench, and when I sit back up straight and turn, I meet the soft lips of the man. I gasp in surprise and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in my mouth. I can feel my body, rigid with tension, begin to shake, as I have no idea what to do with myself.

This man is kissing me. He’s actually…oh, God! His tongue starts to glide in and out, in and out, massaging my own, and my only thought is that he’s mimicking the act of sex with his mouth. I can feel my dick harden until I’m fully erect. Where it was throbbing before, there is an ache now that’s not going to go away unless it’s taken care of, and I moan in frustration. I’ve never kissed a man before. I’ve never reacted like this to a real man, not just some porn star on a screen. I feel my cheeks flush. Can he tell I’ve watched gay porn? I delete it from my computer, if anyone found out…

All thoughts flee my mind when I feel the weight of his palm on my thigh. I pull my head back and he presses his forehead to mine, causing my hat to tip back on my head. Can anyone see us up here? The floor is solid, but the banister across the way is glass and chrome. What if they look up? I whimper, unable to help myself because I’m so torn. I should get up and go wait at the bar, but he tastes so good, like peppermint. I feel his hand kneading my thigh and it’s doing nothing to ebb the lust wracking my body.

“Is this okay?” he whispers.

I try to tell him something, anything. But what? Should I tell him to stop? Should I tell him, unless he plans to do something about the issue in my pants that it most certainly won’t be okay? Should I tell him I’m gay, straight, bi…or what? I don’t know. I groan and drop my head to his shoulder, trying to hide my face. What if he can read my reactions and knows how conflicted I am?

When his fingers brush up against the underside of my dick, I feel my balls tighten and I shiver, lifting my hips from the bench. He seems to take that as some sort of sign, because before I know it, he’s on the floor in front of me, his face level with my cock. He looks up once into my shocked face and asks again if it’s okay, and before I have a chance to properly think about a response, he’s unbuttoned my slacks and freed my cock from my pants. His warm grip finds the base of my cock and instinctively, I reach out and grip his shoulders. I look around, dazed and unfocused, but aware we could be caught at any moment. No one from the dance floor seems to be looking at us, and I turn my attention back to him because the feeling of his hot breath on the tip of my dick is enough to drive me crazy. I can’t remember the last time…I jerk as his wet mouth engulfs me and I let go of one of his shoulders to bite my knuckles in an attempt to keep from making any noise.

I feel his mouth slide up and down. The pressure becomes so intense when he stops to lick around the rim of my dick, I want to scream and beg him not to stop. He continues to tease me for another moment, and then my eyes roll back in my head when he sucks me into his mouth again. I watch as his head bobs up and down and I feel his fingers brush up against my balls.

I try to widen my legs further, but my pants are restricting my movements and I can feel him smile with his mouth full of my dick. He’s enjoying feeling and watching me squirm and I can’t take the pressure of his palm at the base of me anymore.

It’s been so long, I’m afraid he’ll be upset, but I just can’t hold on any longer. I grab the back of his head, pushing his head down as I start to come. He doesn’t seem to mind, in fact it makes him suck harder, with longer pulls, and I can’t hold back the shout I’ve been containing. It’s drowned out by the din of the music and the club, but I empty myself into his mouth, and he laps it up eagerly. My head is swimming and I begin to twitch. When he’s done sucking me dry, he hastily tucks me back into my pants and zips me up.

He sits down next to me again and finishes his drink, and I’m just beginning to wonder if he expects me to reciprocate when I spot Jake walk into the club below. I stand and wobble a little as the euphoric feeling and alcohol rush to my head. I make an excuse. “My business partner just arrived,” then turn and make a hasty retreat down to the lower level.

I have no idea if the man follows me, but when I reach Jake, I tell him I want to go to a different club. I give him the excuse of the two rowdy guys from earlier having upset me. He takes me down the street to the next club, where we have drinks and talk about the cruise, and for the rest of the night I can’t get the image of the stranger with his lips wrapped around my cock out of my head. Jake asks what’s wrong, but I shrug him off and tell him I had too much to drink.

The next morning, I wake up late and have to rush down the pier to get to the boat where I find an anxious Jake waiting for me in Conference Room Two.

“Are you okay?” his eyes are full of concern and I nod.

“So sorry I’m late, I shouldn’t have stayed out so late in the party scene last night. I don’t usually go out and drink.”

“Maybe you should let loose every once in a while. Might do you some good, David, and you never know who you might meet.”

Does he know? Could he tell what I’d done last night? I blush but nod, not revealing anything from the night before. “Speaking of meetings, is the crew here so I can introduce myself? Will you be giving an introduction to the project?”

Jake looks at me for a moment, but then nods. “Yes, here they are now,” he points to two people walking in the door. One is a black woman in her mid-twenties, dressed to the nines. She must be the makeup and hair artist, judging by the cases she’s carrying. The other is the clothing stylist, and my stomach begins churning as I realize, when I look into his vivid green eyes, that he’s the same man who blew me in the club last night. I feel like I’m going to be sick as the realization dawns on his face and he recognizes me too.