“That vile little primate. I can’t believe he spends a year leeching off you, all the while he’s got his uncut dick ploughing into your neighbour and trash-talking you and lying about owning the place,” says Derrick in disbelief while I refill our wine glasses.
I snuggle back into the corner of my grey L-shaped sectional and take a sip of my wine. “I’m not even mad about the cheating or the lying. It’s the fact that I’ve been wanting to break up with him for a year and kept putting it off.”
Derrick nearly chokes on his wine, eager to respond. He swallows and puts the glass down on the coffee table, “My thoughts exactly! You’ve been bitching about this guy for a year, and I kept telling you to just dump him and be done with it. It’s 2026, you don’t need a man to fulfil you.”
I wrinkle my nose at the implication, “I have NEVER needed a man and I’m not starting now, I just felt bad for him. He was jobless and he had no money. I didn’t want to be the woman who dumped her boyfriend at his lowest. I was going to wait until he found a job and then kick him out. I didn’t realise he had no intention of finding work and was more than happy to keep mooching off me while screwing my neighbour, who I am stuck living in the same building with,” I say disdainfully as I take a sip of wine.
“We should put itching powder in her mailbox or something,” he says sneakily.
“I'm pretty sure that’s a federal crime.”
He pouts, “There should be a law against cheaters. How does a boring, ugly, uncut moron like him get a woman anyway?” He says in confusion. I just stare at him. Has he already forgotten I was dating him for two years? He notices me staring at him and quickly waves a dismissive hand. “You don’t count, you’re the sweetest person on Earth, you don’t care about superficial stuff. Though I still don’t know what you saw in that guy.”
I shrug, “I don’t know. And what is with you and uncut dicks?”
“Are you serious? Girl, they look like a Shar Pei,” he shudders in disgust.
I throw my head back and laugh, “That is so stupid! So are you saying you’d have dumped Wyatt if you found out he wasn’t circumcised?” I ask in amusement.
He contemplates my question hard, and then takes a thoughtful breath as he crosses his legs, “It would have given me a lot to think about.”
“You’re so extra sometimes, I can’t,” I chuckle into my glass, taking another sip.
When my parents passed away, I had no living relatives, and I was going to end up in foster care until I turned eighteen. It was Derrick and his family who took me in, treated me like family, and helped me get through the worst moment of my life. Derrick and his parents were there for me when I needed them, which is no surprise because Derrick and I have been friends since we were 12.
Derrick Allan is 26, just like me. He’s a decent 5’8” with tanned skin that he has spent many years working on. He’s very lean, with broad shoulders, and a long neck that leads up to his money-maker. Derrick has the most chiselled face I’ve ever seen and looks perfectly sculpted from clay making it the perfect canvas. He has a sharp jawline, a goatee with some light five o’clock shadow, cheekbones so high they touch the heavens and piercing sapphire blue eyes. He has warm chocolate brown hair that is quaffed at the top and shaved at the sides. Derrick is also the manager/lead entertainer at the gay bar we both work at called the Glitter Hole here in San Francisco and since he just came from work, that would explain why he is in a rainbow suit jacket, rainbow slacks with a white business shirt and burgundy tie. He likes to make a statement.
Derrick and I both got jobs at the Glitter Hole right out of high school even though we were under 21. We both worked odd jobs and Derrick quickly fell in love with the art of drag. He worked his way up to manager as well, whereas I am a bartender and also do the occasional live performance at the club. It’s a great atmosphere, the patrons are amazing, and the tips are incredible.
“We should go out and celebrate,” announces Derrick.
“I still have a head on me. Can’t we just enjoy some wine and trashing my ex?”
“Of course, but you have been stuck with this lump of wood for a year and you didn’t even have feelings for him anymore. You deserve your freedom, and you know what they say, no better way to get over someone than to get under someone else,” he says charismatically.
“I am already over him, so I don’t need to get under anyone,” I argue.
“Okay, but how long has it been since someone pounded your pussy like they were tenderising meat? I mean, when was the last time a man went treasure hunting in your Cave of Wonders?” He asks animatedly, making me cover my mouth to stop from spitting up my wine.
I put the wine down and quickly swallow so I don’t choke and then finally allow myself to laugh, “Stop trying to kill me with laughter.”
He gasps and clutches his chest while pressing his fingers to his lips while making a sad face. “Oh my God, it’s been so long your gag reflex has come back,” he says with dramatic hysteria.
I roll my eyes, “Fuck off,” I say, shoving him, “Look, just because things have been lacking in that department for a while, doesn’t mean I need to go and spread my legs for the next guy to show me attention.”
“Why not? Mitchell went dumpster diving into the first woman who spread her legs for him.”
I snort with laughter, “That’s hilarious.”
“But seriously, tomorrow night is Mystery Sinner’s night at the club. Instead of working, come as a guest. It’s going to be a great night of masquerades and sinning. Wyatt and I are attending,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“What for? You’re monogamous.”
“Yeah, but we enjoy the thrill of public seduction, and I know you do too. That dickhead was snuffing out your fun and your light, my young diva. Show him he hasn’t broken you. Go out there and have fun. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but just go and let your hair out and have some fun. You deserve it. You’ve spent so much time taking care of him and everyone else around you, even me. You deserve a little indulgence,” he says, reaching over and squeezing my knee.
I look at the kind and supportive face of my friend who has been there beside me through everything as I have been for him. He’s right. I stopped having fun because I was working my ass off to support me and Mitchell. I miss the fun Gabriella. I don’t want the times I’m performing at the club to be the only time I feel alive. I want to have fun again, and I’m not saying I’ll go looking, but God I’ve missed good sex.
“Alright, you’ve broken me down. I’ll go the Mystery Sinners night,” I announce in surrender.
“YAS! That’s my girl!” He cheers, high-fiving me.
“Now I just need to figure out what to wear.”
He gasps, “It’s like you’ve forgotten who your best friend is.”
Derrick gets up, grabs his glass of wine, and makes his way up the stairs, “Time to dust off the sluttiest thing you own.”
I chuckle and shake my head but smile as I watch Derrick up on the landing going through my outfits like he’s judging a fashion show. I don’t know what I’d do without him. But he’s right, I need a night of unashamed, switched off debauchery, and Mystery Sinner’s night is just what the doctor ordered.
I am so freakin’ BORED. I never in my life thought I’d be bored watching a bunch of people getting hot ‘n’ heavy in public. Maybe I’m desensitized because I work here, and so when the club hosts a Mystery Sinner’s night, I’m usually working the bar and helping clean up the aftermath, which is fucking nasty by the way. The interior of the club has been decked out like a BDSM sex den with black satin drapes hanging from every fixture and erotic red lighting to set the mood. Sex toys ranging from playful to hardcore, line the walls to give the guests a visual thrill, but they’re only decorative. The club doesn’t supply toys to the guests for health and safety reasons. The music is blaring with melodies to get your heart racing and panties dropping, and there’s a live wax play show happening on stage. There’s plenty here to capture my attention, and yet all I’m doing is tuning them out. Maybe Mitchell killed the fun side of me. I take a sip of my cocktail and glance at myself in a full
A chill creeps up my back and I can feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck as goosebumps spread across my skin. I can’t help feeling like someone is watching me, which isn’t unexpected given where I am, but this feels different. It feels… intense. I slowly scan the club until I lock with a pair of eyes across the room that have me glued to the spot. I’ve never seen eyes like these in my whole entire life! Eyes piercing silver: the colour of liquid mercury, stare at me like they can see right through me. My stomach tightens and my heart flips as I gradually take in the owner's appearance. Splayed out on a couch across the room is a man whose frame is enough to emasculate every man in the club if not the whole world. His gargantuan muscular frame is imposing, and I feel like the couch he’s on should be straining just to have him seated on top of it. He has long thick white hair, the colour of the purest snow, falling down his back like a majestic mane. His bronze skin even from he
Large firm hands grip my upper arms, and my knees almost give way from the indescribable burning feeling that explodes through my body. It’s not like putting your hand on a hot stove, it’s not painful – far from it. It’s the most erotic feeling I’ve ever felt in my life, like the ultimate orgasm after hours of edging. I look back, my head slowly tilting up to find the face that belongs to these hands, and my heart begins to pound erratically when I look up to see those same piercing silver eyes staring down at me with unfathomable reverence. Sweet fucking Jesus, he’s massive! He has to be 7’9” and built like a Sherman Tank. My breathing hitches, and part of me wonders how he got to me so fast, but the other part doesn’t care. My whole body is singing from his touch and yet, is put at ease by it at the same time. His hand ever so softly glides up my arm like he’s touching the finest China, eliciting a shiver from me as my eyes roll back. His fingers slowly trail across my shoulder an
As I appear in front of the familiar, large beachfront estate I remove my mask and discard it on the ground. I stare up at the pristine white compound as the sounds of the beach waves echo against the rustling of lush palm trees. I sense two celestial bodies inside, but it’s only one I care about. As I storm towards the double doors, that sweet scent of bubble gum and cream sickle continues to swirl around my brain, consuming every fibre of my being. My hands still burn like fire from her touch, sending pleasure coursing through this vessel I call a body. My heart continues to beat erratically and as I effortlessly slam my hands against the doors, blowing them to smithereens, it’s not the sound of shattering wood that I hear. No, it’s the sound of her sweet orgasmic moans as she came on my fingers. I can still feel the way her tight pussy quivered and clenched around them, so tight as if to hold me there and continue to bring her pleasure, and I wanted to. Fuck, how I wanted to. I m
The pain of my skull being ripped apart by the jaws of life is the first thing I feel as I start to open my eyes. I clutch my head as if the action will somehow dull the agony – not that it ever has. However, this is by far the worst migraine I’ve ever had. I slowly roll over, and through squinted eyes pick the small bottle of painkillers off my nightstand. I pop open the cap with my teeth and spit it across the room as I pour a couple of pills into my mouth. I grab my water bottle and skull the water, downing the pills in the process. With languid movements, I pull myself out of bed, drag myself downstairs, and lay myself down on the couch directly under the sunlight streaming through my loft window. Almost immediately I can feel the simultaneous expanding and crushing sensations waring in my skull slowly begin to dissipate. I know it doesn’t make any sense. All forms of light are meant to be triggering and known to worsen migraines. I can’t tell you why natural light eases mine; it
I lean back in my chair just as the waitress walks over and places what I can only describe as a plate of grass in front of Derrick who smiles and thanks her. “What can I get you to eat or drink?” she asks me, but my eyes are focused on the monstrosity in front of Derrick. “What is that?” I ask him. “My lunch?” “Yes, but what IS it?” I ask in horror. “It’s s salad,” he asks in bewilderment. “No, no, no. That is not a salad. That is food for sheep and people who do yoga, and you are neither a sheep nor someone who does yoga.” I turn my attention to the waitress, “I will have the eggs benedict with extra bacon on the side, and he will have the same,” I instruct with a broad smile. “Umm…” she drawls hesitantly, probably thinking I’m a controlling bitch. “I will also give you a thirty-dollar tip.” “Two eggs benedict with extra bacon coming right up,” she says brightly before dashing downstairs to the kitchen. “Gabriella,” Derrick sighs. “Don’t go saying my name with that exaspe
The lights are flashing, the music is pumping, the drinks are flowing, and I’m drowning in tips. Let’s be real, how many people can say they have a job that is genuinely fun and exciting? I know it’s a pretty common practice for people to hate and complain about their jobs, but I love mine. I get to spend paid time somewhere that’s like a second home to me, surrounded by all my friends and for the most part, really nice patrons. I’m either working behind the bar, or I’m up on stage dancing like there’s no tomorrow and gracing the crowd with the voice nature gave me. I couldn’t imagine being stuck behind a desk, or worse, working retail. I shudder at the thought. The music transitions into playing that summer banger from a few years back Rush by Troye Sivan and almost immediately I see several shirts come off on the dancefloor. My eyes lock with Cassandra who is working behind the bar with me, as we begin to sing and dance along while we serve the customers. “Can I get two Singapore
I freeze with my hand on the door handle as every libidinous thought quickly exits my brain. I slowly turn to face my former seducer with distrustful eyes. “What did you just call me?” I ask. He quirks a bushy but sculpted brow, “Gabriella?” “How the hell do you know my name?” I ask accusingly as the redhead looks between us in amusement, taking a shot of tequila and downing it like it was water. “I asked around,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “Bullshit,” I clap back, crossing my arms over my chest. The look of shock on this man’s face is as if no one has ever dared speak back to him. Well, he’s in for a rude awakening. I don’t care if he has the body of a 28-year-old Adonis with hair whiter than pure amphetamines. “Why exactly do you think that’s bullshit?” he asks with genuine curiosity. “Because we have a code here, no one on staff refers to anyone by their real name and we sure as fuck don’t go handing out each other’s personal and private information to strangers. It’s a safety