I decided tonight was going to be about dancing and having fun, so freshly showered, I stood in the mirror, ensuring I looked presentable.

Now, presentable wasn’t a word that was fashionable in any sense, but it’s a throwback to my days at the children’s home when Mrs Wiggins would come around for inspection, to make sure we were ready for visitors.

Deciding I looked good, I grabbed my wallet from the bed and walked into the living room.

“Bex, are you ready?” I called.

She stomped into the living room. “Me? I’ve been waiting for you, cheeky.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, knowing she was right. “Fancy a few before we go out?”

“Already on it. I’ve made a batch of Cosmopolitans.”

I rolled my eyes. “Have you been watching Sex and the City again?”

Her face flushed. “You know me too well.”

“Well, go and get them -- I’m gasping for a drink.” She turned around and walked toward the kitchen. “Oh, and Bex,” I said.

“What?”

“You look gorgeous.” And she did. Her figure was amazing and the little black dress she wore would make any man’s eyes pop. She didn’t need a mask of make up to look beautiful.

Her dark hair hung loose and lustrous. The girl had good genes and knew how to make the most of what she had. It was just a pity we were gonna be twirling round the dancefloor of a gay bar tonight and not somewhere she could meet her Prince Charming. For a brief moment, I looked at her, and realised for the first time how much she did mean to me, and that as much as she looked after me, I’d never looked after her. But, that would change. I didn’t pay her compliments very often, and sometimes I felt bad because no matter how I dressed it up, she was my oldest friend. After Bradley died, she stepped in and pulled me out of the quagmire of grief I slipped into. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what mess I’d be in now.

“Aw,” she replied, seemingly touched. “Thank you.”

“Don’t get emosh for Christs sake,” I laughed, knowing her chin wobbled at the slightest hint of kindness.

“I’m not,” she said, dashing out of the room.

I heard her blow her nose and couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. She really did have a heart of gold, and despite the fact she smothered me at times, I knew she’d always have my back, and that wasn’t a bad position to be in.

* * *

A few hours later Bex and I were in the middle of the dancefloor in Sexotheque. By this time the shirt I’d spent an hour choosing had long been abandoned. Soaked in sweat, it had to go, so bare chested I was and dancing like I was making love – with all the enthusiasm and gusto I could muster.

It was ‘Happy Handbag’ night, which was great for me, but not so good for Bex. She had always questioned what she called my dubious taste in music, but I didn’t care. My love For Kylie Minogue and Madonna was resolute and no amount of gentle ribbing would dampen my enthusiasm for either.

As luck would have it, the new Kylie single pumped out of the speakers and I gave it my all, shaking my arse like I was on tour as one of her backing dancers. Suddenly surrounded by a throng of hot sweaty men, whopping and hollering like a bunch of crazed animals, I rubbed and gyrated against the guy behind me. I didn’t know who he was, nor did I care. He could have had a face like a dog’s arse for all I knew, but I was lost in the music, held in thrall by the rhythmic beats and for that moment in time, life was better than it had been in a long time. I closed my eyes and drifted away with the song, arms raised high, loving life. This was how life should be I decided, but for now I needed another Cosmo.

I opened my eyes, realising Bex wasn’t there, and quickly scanning the bar area, spied her locked at the lips with a very hot guy with a shaved head. So much for not finding her Prince Charming here, I thought to myself.

“Go on, girl,” I said, happy for her. Deciding the best option was to let her have her own fun and carry on dancing, I picked up the beat again, and let myself go.

The ringing bell signalled the start of ‘Old but Gold Hour’ had arrived and the crowd went crazy as the familiar intro to camp classic Y.M.C.A kicked in. Now, I wouldn’t usually be caught dead dancing to this song, but whilst Bex was playing tonsil tennis with hot guy over by the bar, I had nothing to lose and gave it plenty of welly. I was a bit embarrassed to realise I knew all the moves. So gay!

The song finished and Your Disco Needs You started up. I was tempted to shake my arse a little more, but my mouth felt like Gandhi’s flip flop. I really needed a drink.

Leaving the dancefloor, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around.

“You dropped this,” the handsome guy in front of me said, holding my wallet in front of me.

“Oh, cheers,” I replied. “I had no idea I’d dropped it.”

“You dropped it during the Y.M.C.A,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “But you looked like you were having so much fun, I didn’t wanna interrupt.”

I felt my face redden. “Oh, the shame,” I said, laughing nervously.

“Don’t be. Not many guys would look as good as you doing that particular dance.” He laughed too. “Here you are, have a good night,” he said about to turn away.

Before I could stop myself, I found myself offering to buy him a drink. “As a thank you for your honesty.”

“Erm, yeah, okay, that would be nice.”

“My name’s Matt, by the way.” I offered my hand.

“Nice to meet you Matt.” He shook my hand. “I’m Jake.”

This guy was gorgeous, but I had to play it cool. It wasn’t the usual way my nights went – meeting a random hot guy who seemed interested. It wasn’t a secret to people here what profession I was in, so men usually ran a mile after trying and failing miserably to get a freebie.

“What do you fancy?” I asked.

“You,” was his reply.

I was totally stunned, not knowing what to say.

Spluttering and making myself look totally stupid, he leant in and kissed me. Just like that. I kissed him back. His hand gripped the back of my neck, while he placed the other on my side, pulling me in. Gentle, but firm at the same time. Pressing myself against him, wanting to feel him close to me, I could feel how hard his body was.

And then, from out of nowhere, I felt like I was betraying Declan.

Dammit, I thought. Not now.

I pulled away.

“Everything okay?” he asked, eyeing me with a curious expression.

“Yeah, I just feel weird in here that’s all.”

“’Cos of your job?”

Although my job wasn’t a secret on the Liverpool gay scene, I was flummoxed. This guy certainly didn’t mince his words.

“Erm,” was all I could manage to say. “Probably.”

“Hey, sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to piss you off. Your job is nothing to do with me, and besides, it’s just sex, right?”

“Let’s go for that drink,” I said.

“Make mine a double.” He smiled.

I always believed people judged me negatively for my job, but this guy seemed different. So, he was hot, and not a judgemental prick like most other guys I’d met socially.

“A double what?” I asked.

“Surprise me,” he replied.

“You might live to regret that,” I joked.

“Hope so.” His flirting was shameless, but it made a refreshing change.