Kiss Me: Copyright © 2019 All rights reserved. This book contains material protected under International and federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorised reprint or use of material is prohibited.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of adult fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental. The author does not endorse or condone any behaviour enclosed within. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity and explicit sexual situations.

Kiss Me

Part One

Henley

A gay bar. Of course it was a gay bar. I should have known. Because only my sister would choose to celebrate her twenty-first birthday party in a gay bar.

I sighed and scratched my jaw. Why couldn’t it have been a lesbian bar? They had those, right? Then again, I wouldn’t have gotten any enjoyment in one of those either. Meg had ruined the whole lesbian-fantasy thing when she’d come out at fourteen. There was no pleasure in imagining two hot chicks doing nasty, beautiful things to each other when one of them kept morphing into your sister.

Shit, I could barely suppress a shudder at the thought, but no one noticed. Not Meg or her friends, who were all too busy drinking and laughing and shouting over the thundering music to notice how uncomfortable I was. A straight man in a gay club in New York City. I wasn’t the first, obviously, but for some reason, I felt like it.

I hunched over the Coke I’d been nursing for the past half hour and tried my best to ignore the interested stares I was getting. If my buddies could see me now they’d shit their pants laughing and then volunteer to kick some ass with me just as a matter of loyalty. As if I needed to protect my delicate manly sensibilities by resorting to physical violence. I sighed again. No, I’d just have to suffer in silence.

The place was so dark it should have been impossible to catch anyone’s eye, but the rainbow laser light-beams moved in time with the strobe’s beat to create a disconcerting kaleidoscope effect that provided just enough light and just enough headache-inducing delirium for me to feel kind of trippy even though I was stone-cold sober. Another sip of warm Coke didn’t help, and neither did the shadows or the uncomfortable hunch. I couldn’t have stood out more if I'd had a blinking neon sign over my head.

The Vibe. If I’d been smart I would have said no as soon as Meg mentioned the name of the place. Then again, I’d never been able to say no to my baby sister. She was a devil with sweet eyes and I’d been devoted to her ever since she was born. Even if all she ever did was torture me.

"If you don’t cheer up I’m going to tell Mom," Meg bellowed into my ear. I looked up just in time to see her smile turn into a frown. Her hazel eyes reflected the rainbow lights and glittered back at me with an overly glossy veneer. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips twitched just enough to make me laugh. She’d always been a terrible liar.

"You are such a brat," I said.

"Shut up, you love me." Her giggle was slightly crazed.

"You’re drunk." She smiled and nudged my shoulder with her own. 

"I’m twenty-one, big bro! That’s the whole point." On my twenty-first I'd gone overboard with the Jack Daniel’s and ended up puking my guts out two hours into the party. The hangover had put me off the stuff for years. The way Meg was headed she’d be having a similar experience and the idea made everything else worth it. 

"Sure, just remember that when Tara is holding your hair back and you’re worshiping the porcelain god." She sniggers and turned to kiss Tara. Jesus, she hadn’t even warned me. She really was a brat. To avoid watching my baby sister make out, I turned toward the crowded dance floor. So much skin, so many grinding masculine bodies moving to the pop hit-slash-techno beat like the music put them into some kind of trance. Either the DJ was a wizard or the dancers were all caught in a lust frenzy. And the DJ was no wizard. I rubbed my temple and considered heading to the bar to refresh my Coke, but the last time I’d done that I was hit on by three guys, all of them half-naked. And none of them had taken my 'Sorry, I’m straight: as anything but a challenge. Better to just avoid the situation and hope the waiter would come by soon.

The music faded and the DJ’s voice came through the speakers. "And now it’s time for a treat. Put your hands together for the hottest show in New York City. Give it up, for the Sassy Boyz!" Beside me, Meg squealed as the rest of the club erupted into cheers and turned to face a stage I hadn’t even noticed.

The intro music started and the curtains slowly rose. "Oh my God, they’re doing Jessie J’s ‘Do It Like A Dude’! I saw a clip of this one on YouTube, it’s awesome," Meg exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat.

"Jesus, you’d think you were at a Beyoncé concert instead of a drag show." I shook my head at her.

Across the table her friend leaned forward. "It’s not a drag show. They’re not queens." The volume of the music rose again and every light but the ones on the stage went dark. Honestly, I expected big hair, big makeup, and outrageous costumes. Something artificial. Not four slim females wearing baggy jeans, loose T-shirts, high heels, and baseball caps pulled low enough to cover their eyes. I definitely hadn’t expected the bright red lipstick or the silky long hair. These were definitely not drag queens. As soon as the lyrics started, the dancers began their aggressive, syncopated moves. They thrust their hips, popped their chests, and flexed their biceps in stereotypical macho fashion, grabbing their crotches and adjusting their caps to match the suggestive lyrics. And if that weren’t statement enough, they topped it all off by shooting the middle finger to the audience while stomping their high heels. The dancers were so hot, especially the tallest one with long blond hair. Yeah, she was really fucking sexy. A night with her would be jerk-off fuel for years to come. Especially considering those fuck-me heels. I felt my pulse grow heavier with each hard hit of the drums, each reverberating thrum from the bass. I spread my legs and smoothed my jeans over my thighs to create more room for my ever growing hard-on, because watching the dance was like looking into the eyes of someone sucking your cock.

So fucking good.

When the bridge came, they lowered to the floor to perform a grinding, thrusting move that simulated sex so effectively it was almost like I could feel it. I gripped my knees until my knuckles whitened, and breathed through my mouth. Just as the first song started to fade, another beat took over. The dancers moved to the back of the stage, where four chairs now stood, and began a slow striptease. With every piece of clothing they removed, the crowd grew more and more wild and my damn heartbeat grew more erratic. They flung their hats off and flipped their hair while rolling their hips, bringing to mind all kinds of ways I could touch and kiss and lick just so the tall blonde in the front would repeat that sexy little thrust.

Across the table, Meg whistled and her friends cheered just as loud. It was all I could do not to join in too, because the girls onstage were now bent over and sliding the denim over their gorgeous, leather-covered asses.

Holy fucking Christ.

I swallowed and reached for my glass with a shaking hand, forgetting it was already empty. I had no choice but to let my mouth go dry because there was no way I was tearing my eyes away from the stage. Not while they were still up there, and especially not while they were stripping. Finally, they sat just as the new song began. Meg must have recognized the song because she cheered again even louder right before she, and everyone else at the table, sang the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

"Booooots and Boys!!" With the first word, the dancers extended their legs to reveal knee-high sex-kitten boots. And on the second, fuck. My heart started again, thudding so hard in my chest I thought it might fly out, leaving a giant gaping hole. The dancers stood facing the audience, and the crowd’s decibel level skyrocketed. They were nearly naked, wearing only those damn boots and tight leather shorts. But that wasn’t why I couldn’t breathe. They were guys. Guys in heels and makeup. Like a slap to the face I realized what the fuck I was seeing and how slow I’d been to assume they were female dancers. For fuck’s sake, we were in a gay bar. Of course they were guys. And still, I couldn't tear my eyes off the blond in the front.

Not a fucking girl.

The guy’s chest was flat as a pancake, unless you counted the extremely well-developed pecs, which I didn’t. Christ! I was still hard. How could I still be hard? And why the fuck was my heart beating so goddamn fast? I reached for my empty glass again, eyes still glued to the stage, before remembering it was empty and cursing. Good lord, the guy’s long legs were suddenly the hottest fucking thing I had ever seen. And God help me, that mouth. I couldn’t tell if it was the smoking-red lipstick or the crazy little smirk, but that mouth. It was killing me.

They danced, matching the music with their provocative energy, their feminine swishes, shaking their hips and flicking their hair. Strutting like models on a catwalk. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. They’d gone from uber-masculine to realistically feminine within five minutes, and I was a massive ball of throbbing nerves cemented to my damn seat. I’d never, in my twenty five years, ever thought another guy was attractive, but my goddamn cock seemed to believe the long-legged blond was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen. I took another deep breath and smoothed out the denim around my thighs. No, this was just the effects of my six-week-long dry spell. I hadn’t gotten laid since Sara dumped me. Plus, the energy of the place was crazy sexual. Christ, sex was in the air and I wouldn’t be surprised if there were men fucking in the shadows.

"I gotta piss. Be right back!" I shouted to Meg. I pushed through the densely packed sea of bodies before she could respond. I needed air. I needed to get a fucking grip on myself. Figuratively, of course, though I was tempted to jerk one out in the stall just to ease the ache. Once in the bathroom I splashed cold water on my face and took a deep breath. If there was one thing I knew for certain, I was not attracted to men. And I definitely wasn’t gay.