Page 9 of Glitter

Chapter 9

“Hey, buddy. That guy over there wants to buy you a drink.”

My eyes steadily locked on the door to the club, I hadn’t been paying much attention to anyone around me. So, at the bartender’s words, I jolted in my seat.

Twisting my body to face him, my gaze travelled over his plain, black t-shirt—the name of the club, a small, tasteful, silvery flourish across his pecs, which were straining against and testing the structural limits of the fabric—and up to his face. His expression was disinterested and vaguely annoyed as he nodded his head toward somewhere further down along the bar and relayed his message again. “Yeah, that guy. That one. Wants to buy you a drink. You want it or not?”

I swiftly shifted my attention in the direction he’d indicated, hoping… But, no. It wasn’t my angel.

The man looking back at me and eagerly making eye contact was… Well, he was cute. Really cute. With a slim build, dark hair and eyes, and skin that looked dewy and golden, even in the poor lighting of the club. Under any other sort of circumstances, I’d be over the moon ecstatic if a cute guy like that was showing me any sort of interest.

Right now, all that mattered was that he was not the man I was waiting for.

“He does not ,” came a voice from behind me, answering the bartender’s question on my behalf.

I jolted again, from joy and relief this time, instead of surprise, and I quickly swiveled around on the barstool to face my angel. The bartender, the random, cute stranger, and everybody else on the planet immediately forgotten.

His eyes locked on mine and not straying for a moment, he addressed the bartender again. “You can tell that encroaching hussy that his offer isn’t wanted. I already have something for him to drink.”

A slender finger dipped into the shockingly vibrant pink drink my angel was cradling in his left hand. He then brought that finger up to my lips and slipped it into my mouth, depositing a burst of tangy, sweet, and berry on my tongue. “Isn’t that right, boo?” he asked, his finger teasingly caressing my tongue before he slowly slid it back out of my mouth. “You don’t want what he’s offering. It could never be as tasty as what I’ll give you.”

I was speechless. Breathless.

But what wasn’t less was the way I wanted him.

My desire for him was a throbbing, burning need, filling up every corner of my being and which came out as a rumbling, desperate groan.

“Please,” I begged, not even knowing what it was I was begging for. Did it matter? Whatever he had in mind, I wanted it. I was willingly his.

His lips curled up in a pleased smile at my reaction. Or perhaps he was amused by the blatant neediness I was pathetically unable, or unwilling, to hide. He raised his glass up to those lips, which almost perfectly matched the color of his bright pink drink, his eyes never leaving mine as he took a slow, deep sip.

My mouth watered for a taste. Not another taste of what was in his cup—I could still taste the small sample my angel had given me. No. What I wanted was a taste of him. What he tasted like beneath the shared flavor of the drink.

Our eye contact continued, lingered, much the way the press of his lips lingered against the rim of his glass. It finally broke when he looked away to set his drink on the bar behind me, even though it was still roughly half full.

Over my shoulder, my angel aimed a narrow-eyed glare at the bartender, who must’ve still been hovering nearby. As if to dare him to comment on the way he’d so gloriously, and publicly, staked his claim on me, or to warn the bartender against repeating that other man’s offer to buy me a drink.

If it was a warning, it was totally unnecessary. Not that I minded the thrill it gave me. I would glory in this bit of outward possessiveness, let it nourish me like rainfall on parched land, and bask in it for as long as it lasts.

Then he grabbed my hand, tugging and pulling me up and off the barstool. A sassy flick of his head sent his pink curls jouncing enticingly as he stated, “Come along, boo. Follow me.”

“Okay,” I dutifully replied, happy to follow him wherever he wanted to take me.

Even with me obediently trailing behind him, he kept his hand clasped around mine. Normally, I wasn’t one who enjoyed public attention, but at this moment, I sort of hoped that everyone in the club was looking at me. At us. I wouldn’t even have minded if the music cut out and a spotlight was shown down on us if it meant that everyone could see this outward stake of ownership right now.

As he led me, unsurprisingly, toward one of the back hallways, I let my eyes feast on angel. His long, slender legs were encased in a pair of black, slim-cut pants that emphasized every lean, toned inch of them, and also cupped his firm, perky ass in a way that made my hands want to do the same. On top, he was wearing a white, button-up shirt, paired with a wide, stiff, corset-like band of black leather wrapped around his narrow waist. And on his feet, he had on a pair of black, leather ankle boots that had a small heel that gave him just a touch of a height advantage between the two of us.

Internally, I laughed as my angel took us into Bathroom 3, thinking that, at the rate we were going, I’d soon have fond memories of all of the bathrooms of Glitter. At least, I thought my laughter had only been internal, but I realized it might not have been only inside my head as he turned to face me and raised one questioning brow.

Not wanting to admit to my stupidly hopeful thought, I muttered an unconvincing “nothing. It was nothing” in answer to his silent query. Thankfully, after a long moment, he let it go, not asking any follow up questions.

By some luck, the bathroom was empty, not that we’d probably remain the only two people in here for very long. But it did mean that there was nobody in here to witness my angel forcefully propel me into the bathroom stall furthest from the door or to hear him slam the door shut behind us.

I was a bit on the fence as to whether it was good luck or bad luck though. On the one hand, my ego wouldn’t have minded somebody else being around to see the way my angel wanted me enough to manhandle me. On the other hand, the level to which I enjoyed that manhandling and how needy and desperate it made me… Yeah, that was something private. Something I only wanted my angel to know.

Remembering how things had gone between us the last two times, I automatically placed myself between him and the toilet and reached around to my back pocket to pull out my wallet, to get to the condom I’d tucked in there.

But before I could pull my wallet all the way free, a firm hand on my arm halted my movements. Glancing up at him, I thought I saw a flash of uncertainty pass through my angel’s blue eyes. But it was so quick—between one blink and another—and then in its place was such a look of control and confidence, that I couldn’t be sure if I’d really seen it or not.

“Not so fast, boo,” he said.

My heart banged fast with disappointment and, well, confusion. Why were we in here, why had he led me here, if not for…

“As much as I loved you fucking me the last two times…” His hand still holding my arm in place, slightly trapped behind me, he stepped in close. Close enough that I could smell alcohol and berries on his breath. Berries and alcohol and…sugar. His own natural sweetness that I was dying to get on my tongue.

For a moment—a breath-stealing, hopeful moment—I thought he was about to kiss me. But just when I thought his lips were going to touch mine…just before…his head twisted to the side and he brought his mouth close to my ear instead.

His breath whispered against me as he stated, “Trust me, I really, really did love how you fucked me,” the words soothing me, reassuring me, and bringing my anxiety down a notch. “But,” he said. “But…”

My confusion and disappointment flared again as he took a step back, away from me, releasing his hold on my arm, and settling his body with his back resting against the black, metal stall door.

But even with my emotions a messy swirl, I couldn’t help but appreciate the vision he presented. All monochromatic in black and white against that black background, the only pops of color came from his hair, eyes, and lips. Even the glitter he had on tonight—dusted across his cheekbones and on the flat expanse of chest exposed by his half-unbuttoned shirt—was a shimmering silver. While it made him look as though he’d been kissed by stardust, it couldn’t pull at my gaze the way his face did. Those eyes. Those lips .

Even more than the loss of the press of his body against mine, what I felt more was the loss of the possibility of the brush of his hot pink lips against mine.

While I’d been eyeing him, my angel seemed to have been eyeing me right back. I’m not really sure why—it’s not like I was much to look at, not like he was, in my jeans and t-shirt that… Yep, a quick glance down confirmed that the t-shirt I’d thrown on after work had a faded sports logo on it. So faded, I couldn’t even be certain of which sports team it was for, although there were bits of black and white that almost looked shaped like a bird, so if I had to, I would guess it was for the Minnesota Loons hockey team.

As for what I looked like beneath my plain, unimpressive clothes… Well, it’s not like it was all that hard to tell I was thick and chunky and hadn’t seen the inside of a gym in…ever. But the shape of my body hadn’t been enough to put him off the past two times we’d had sex and it didn’t seem to be deterring him tonight either. On the contrary, as he looked at me, lust made his blue eyes glow and his pink tongue dipped out to run over his pinker lips.

“While I would love, absolutely love , for you to fuck me again, boo,” he said, adding, “so, so very much, I’m going to have to have you do something else, instead. You see, the last two times were…messy. Wonderful and satisfying and must-be-repeated…but messy.” He waved a hand in front of himself as he stated, “This outfit is new. And so while having you fuck me would be fantastic, I don’t want to get lube and cum on these clothes. Not the very first time I’m wearing them.”

“Oh.”

Gearing up to express my understanding of why we weren’t going to be hooking up tonight, while hiding my natural disappointment, I almost didn’t register when he calmly informed me, “So, instead of fucking me, you’re going to blow me instead.” But I most definitely heard him when he ordered, “Get on your knees, boo. I want your mouth on my cock.”

Dimly, I was aware of the thunk of my knees hitting the tile floor and the corresponding sharp crack of pain, but those didn’t matter. What did matter was doing exactly what my angel wanted as quickly as I could, and then feeling the rush of pride and relief at the approval glowing in his eyes.

“Good. So good for me, boo,” he murmured. “But you’re going to need to get closer. So, come here, boo. Come to me.”

His hands drifted over the center of his corset and down to the button on his pants as he watched me shuffle closer to him on my knees. My lips parted, my mouth already watering and eager for what he was about to reveal for me.

A quick flick of his fingers to release the button, a nimble tug to draw down the zipper, and the black material parted to show a vee of pale skin. That narrow sliver widened and grew as his hands slid his pants down. Slowly, slowly. Teasing me.

It seemed like every inch closer to him that I crept, another centimeter of skin was revealed.

Closer to him, so close to him now that I could feel the heat of his body and smell the sugary scent clinging to him, I waited expectantly to see what delightful torment of an undergarment he had for me tonight.

But instead of a hint of elastic, cotton, silk, or lace…there was only skin. Pale, creamy, satiny skin.

His treasure trail was barely a shadow of short, dark hairs, which led down to a dainty, trimmed patch of hair around the base of his cock. I followed that trail with my eyes, and then, as my angel implored, “Come on. You can get closer than that,” I followed it with my nose—brushing the tip of my nose against the fine, nearly invisible hairs below his adorable belly button, and then dragging it down, down, down, until I could bury it against the velvety soft, hot, sweet and musky root of his dick.

He’d only gotten his pants down as far as his hips, but I couldn’t wait any longer to get my mouth on him.

That first swipe of my tongue against his skin…

I groaned and had to fight to not let my eyes slam shut in pleasure as his tangy sweetness became the whole of my existence.

“Oh, shit. Boo,” he panted. “Let me… Fuck. Let me get my pants out of the way.”

I licked and licked and licked, tickling my tongue with the fine, raspy hairs at his groin, then sending it down to explore and learn the tender, sensitive skin at the base of his cock, stretched taut from his erection.

As he shoved his pants down further, his cock sprang free, hard, long, and perfect. It jerked up to thwap against my cheek, leaving a sticky smear of precum on my skin. And while I loved having that trace of him on my skin, I would so much rather have it in my mouth.

Raising my hand, I went to grab his cock so I could direct it toward my open, waiting mouth. But his hand was there first, wrapping around his length and tapping his cock against my cheek. One, two, three more times, leaving kissed dollops of sticky fluid with each tap.

“I wish you could see how hot you are right now, boo,” he said. “On your knees for me. With my hard cock in your face. Your mouth open. Mmm. And that look on your face… You’re gagging for it, aren’t you, boo? Ready to beg me for it.”

Not wanting to occupy my mouth with words when I’d rather have his dick in there, I went to nod my head to agree with, well, everything that came out of his mouth. But before I could, his other hand was there. Lightly gripping my hair what he could of my short hair, keeping my head from moving. Keeping my mouth right where it was. A mere breath away from the tip of his leaking dick.

“Are you, boo?” he asked, rubbing the end of his cock over my parted lips but not pushing inside. “Are you ready to beg?”

“Yeee—”

He doesn’t give me the chance to complete my answer. Which, really, why would he have needed me to? The answer was clearly going to be yes. All of my answers to him so far had been a yes, and I think we both knew my answers were always going to be a yes.

Instead of letting the complete three letter word leave my mouth, he directed the head of his cock to go into it.

With his fist still wrapped around the base of his cock to hold it steady, he slid the smooth, flared tip of his cock between my lips, gliding in until it rested snugly on the surface of my tongue.

“Mmm, your mouth feels so good, boo. So warm and wet. I’m tempted to have you stay like this, not doing anything else. Just being a good cockwarmer for me.”

I want to taste him. I want to suck him. I want to run my tongue all up and down the length of his cock, getting him all soaked with my spit and figuring out the best ways to please him.

But the lush delight that rang in his voice as he hinted that he would want to park his dick inside my mouth for an indefinite amount of time… I whimpered from the desire for him to do whatever he wanted with me.

“It’s tempting…” Raising my eyes, I watched him, waited, and held still as he seemed to think.

His hand ruffled through the short strands of my hair, then, as his gaze lowered to look at me, his nostrils delicately flared and he stated, “Maybe another time. I did say I wanted to assess your sucking skills. And everyone who knows me well knows that I really don’t like to change my mind once I’ve decided on something.”

He gave a small thrust of his hips, nudging his cock farther inside my mouth. “So, that’s what I’ll have you do. This time.” And again. Pulling back slightly, until the ridge of his cockhead nudged at the soft inner lining of my lips, then pushing in again, riding the tip, and the first inch or so of his shaft, along the top of my tongue.

Once more, then he sweetly commanded, “So, suck, boo. Suck me so good.”

So, that’s what I did. His command was my wish. And my utmost pleasure.

I sucked. I licked. Swirling my tongue around the tip and up and down his shaft, which was a straight, slender column, with a singular, thick vein running along the underside. I took him as deep as I could, breathing through my nose while letting the head of his cock rub and pulse against the back of my throat.

And each time I did, each time I took him deep and held him there, the throb of his cock and the pulse of my heartbeat performing a perfectly synchronous tango, the sweetest, filthy praise fell from my angel’s pink lips.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuuuck … Goddamn you’re good at this. Knew you would be. So hot and wet and— Shit, yes! Do that again! That thing, with your tongue. Yes, that, boo. That! Fuck. More. Give me more. Take more. Yes. More of me. Swallow my cock. That’s it, boo. Swallow it. Mmm. Like that. Fuck.”

He had both hands wrapped firmly around my head, fingers buried in my hair and digging into my skull, directing the pace and depth with which I was taking him. My own hands alternated between gripping his hips and cupping the smooth, silky perfection of his ass as my angel rode my face and used me for his pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m gonna… Don’t wanna, but holy shit am I gonna…”

His thrusting was getting harder and sloppier, his words beginning to slur together and getting less coherent. I could taste his enjoyment on my tongue—the tangy, sweet nectar of his precum, which was now a near-continuous stream dribbling from his slit.

Then, suddenly, his hands tightened on my head and his words came out clearly and louder than they had been. “Fuck, I’m close. Are you good to swallow, boo?”

My eyes had been watering for…who knows how long. I definitely had saliva all over and dripping from my chin. I probably had snot oozing from my nose. And I still had the remnants of precum he’d streaked on my cheek.

My face was a gigantic sloppy mess.

Even so, I didn’t hesitate to tip my face up so I could look my angel in the eyes. I wanted to see what his face looked like on the precipice to orgasm. I needed to see the desire, the pleasure, the chase for ecstasy darkening his eyes.

The previous two times we’d had sex, he’d been facing away from me, so I’d only been able to see his face after the culmination of his orgasm. This time, I wanted to see what he looked like just before. Then watch as it broke over him, sweeping him up and over the edge.

I wanted to see him glow.

Rubbing my tongue against the underside of his cock, I hoped he could read my answer to his question in my eyes. The thought of getting his taste, having him flood my mouth and throat with his cum…surely, he could see how much I yearned for that.

But perhaps my eyes weren’t as expressive as all that. Because he followed up his initial question with another. “Or do you want me to shoot on you? All over your chest, maybe? While I don’t want to dirty up my clothes, maybe you’d like for me to dirty up yours. Get you all filthy.”

I groaned around my mouthful of cock because, really, that option also sounded fan-freaking-tastic.

Then he dragged one of his hands from my hair and brought it down to my face, cupping my cheek and leisurely sweeping his thumb along my upper lip, where it hugged the slender length of his dick, as he offered yet another choice. “Or maybe I should come all over your darling face. Would you like that, boo? Do you want a cum facial?”

Fuck. Those were all… How was I supposed to choose? I wanted all of them.

I wanted him to come on my shirt, mark it all up with his release, and then I could keep it and forever have a crusty memento of this moment.

And I wanted him to come on my face. I wanted him to splatter it all over my skin, until I was drenched and dripping with his cum, then rub it into my skin like the world’s oldest-known form of lotion.

But I also wanted him to come in my mouth. Having only been granted small, fleeting tastes of his skin, and not yet been allowed to sample his luscious pink lips, I wanted my angel to spurt, thick and hot and creamy, into my mouth, so I could feast on the delicious flavor of his satisfaction.

How was I supposed to choose between the options he’d offered me? I wanted them all.

But if I had to choose—and, unless he took the choice out of my hands, I’d have to—there was one of the choices that I needed to have. More than the others. Especially with there being no guarantee that I would get to see him again. That I would get to have him in my mouth again.

With the possibility that this might be the only time I got to do this…

I pulled off enough that I could quickly gasp out, “Swallow. Please.” Then I dove back onto his cock, picking up right where I’d left off—enthusiastically licking his dick.

He groaned and I gave myself a moment to watch as his eyelids fluttered. Then I turned my attention back down to his cock, bobbing and sucking on his hard length.

His hand slid away from my face and around to the back of my neck, that hand, and the one still gripping my head, helping to control the pace and urging me to go faster, to take him deeper, over and over.

“Fuck, boo. You want to swallow?” he asked. Rhetorically, apparently, as he didn’t give me the opportunity to confirm that’s what I wanted before telling me, “You’re not going to have to wait very long. Fuck, your mouth feels so good. So hot and wet and… Ungh . You’re sucking my cock so good, boo.”

I fought against my instinctive need to gag as his cock hit the back of my throat over and over. The muffled, cut-off choking noises I was making added to the sloppy, wet, slurping sounds of the blowjob—an erotic soundtrack that filled and reverberated within the walls of the bathroom stall we were in.

“Ah fuck. Fuck, fuck. Hell. I’m—”

To his credit, my angel almost got a complete warning out before the first volley of cum erupted from his cock. Almost. But I was prepared for it; he’d already said that he was close and I’d felt him getting harder against my mouth.

So, when he rammed his cock more forcefully and deeper, holding my head in place as he came, I happily hummed around his length and eagerly slurped down the gushing spurts of cum flooding my mouth.

If the bit of his skin I’d gotten to kiss tasted of cotton candy, his cum was flavored closer to the finest salted caramel. Tangy and a bit salty, but mostly sweet.

It was thick, warm, and creamy in my mouth, and I swallowed as much of it as I could. But some of it inevitably spilled out and trickled over my lips and down my chin, joining and adding to the sloppy mess of saliva smeared all over my skin.

His hips jerked a few more times as he continued to climax, before slowing and stuttering to a stop. We held there for an indeterminate beat of time. My angel standing there, with me kneeling at his feet, his hands cupped around my head and the back of my neck, while his spent cock rested in my mouth.

Soft, almost cooing, murmurs tumbled from his lips and his hand softly petted my hair, once, then twice. Shifting his weight, he began sliding his cock out my mouth, causing me to emit a wordless noise of protest.

I didn’t want him to pull his cock out my mouth. He might’ve come, but I would’ve gladly stayed on my knees for him. Cradling his cock on my tongue. Keeping it warm. Nursing and sucking on it until he got hard for me again.

At which point, I would, of course, enthusiastically lick him and suck him until he came again.

I’d willingly and eagerly do that, over and over and over again.

Realistically, we couldn’t do that, though.

We were still in a public bathroom. And, at some point, someone else was bound to want to use this bathroom stall. Even if that didn’t happen, as likely as that would be, the club would close for the night and security would kick us out.

I knew all that. Heck, I didn’t even know if my angel was interested in me acting as his cockwarmer and then having me blow him again. So, I knew why he was removing his softening cock from my mouth, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t disappointed about it.

“Oh, boo, don’t fret,” he commented, clearly misinterpreting the sound I’d made. “I didn’t forget about you. You still need to come, don’t you, boo? Fuck, your cock has got to be crying out for some relief, isn’t it.”

Honestly, before he’d mentioned it, the state of my own dick had been nowhere on my radar at all. I’d been so consumed with what he wanted, with doing a good job and pleasing him, then getting to taste the results of his pleasure, that, once my knees had hit the tile floor, I hadn’t passed a single thought for my poor, hard, aching dick, trapped painfully in my jeans.

But now that he had mentioned it… I whimpered because, fuck, yes, I was hard. Really, really hard. Like, I-could-feel-my-heartbeat-in-my-dick hard. And if-I-don’t-come-really-fucking-soon-I-might-rupture-something hard.

“Stand up,” he ordered. Then, when I didn’t immediately do what he said, he repeated himself. “Stand up,” he commanded, louder and more insistently this time.

Still wanting to do whatever my angel wanted, I rose to my feet, ungainly and wobbling. My knees twinged, not happy with me for kneeling on a hard, unforgiving surface for so long, and fiery pins came alive and needled at the bottom part of my legs as normal circulation was restored.

While I was undertaking the surprisingly uncomfortable task of standing up, he casually tucked his soft dick back into his pants. He followed that up with making sure his shirt and corset were on straight and lying flat, and generally smoothing away any sort of creases or wrinkles in his clothing.

In seemingly no time at all, he’d put himself all back to rights and, other than a faint flush underneath the silver glitter on his cheeks and the heavy, musky scent of sex suffusing the air around us, no signs of what we’d just been doing remained.

Which, I supposed, was what he’d wanted.

Once I was steady on my feet, I waited to hear what he wanted me to do next. Thankfully, he didn’t make me wait for long.

“Turn around, boo,” he said. “Go on, turn around.”

I glanced at him briefly, curious, but then did what he’d ordered.

Before he even touched me, I somehow sensed him coming closer. And then he was pressed up against me, his chest snugged along my back and his hips cradling the fleshy swell of my ass. His arms came around me and I cautiously allowed myself to melt back against his body.

Nimble fingers teasing open my jeans were a torment and a relief. “Told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I, boo?” my angel asked as he slid those fingers inside my loosened pants and through the slit in my briefs. When they wrapped around my hot, needy dick, I groaned in gratitude. “Oh, you do need to come,” he commented, as he pulled my thick, hard cock out of my underwear. “You’re so hard. And positively drenched. If I couldn’t feel how badly you need to come, I’d almost think you already had, boo.”

“Yes, yes, please,” I sobbed, my voice desperate in my agreement with what he’d said and begging for him to stroke me. Fuck, I needed him to stroke my cock. I needed to come.

I was used to the feel of my chunky sausage fingers on my dick and the brisque, efficient way I jerked myself off when I masturbated. There was no comparing that utilitarian act to the bliss of having his slender, elegant fingers fisted around my length and stroking me.

Up and down his hand caressed my shaft, over and over. Up and down. Smoothing over skin stretched taut over firm flesh, rubbing over the bumpy ridges of blood-engorged veins. Over and over.

His hot breath tickled against my ear, adding another layer to the shiver-inducing pleasure he was giving me, as he told me, “When you come—and, fuck, it’s going to be soon, I can tell, boo—try to get it in the toilet, okay. We did good keeping my clothing mess-free; might as well do the same for yours.”

He was right. Blowing him and making him come had gotten me impossibly hard. And with his hand on my dick, stroking me surely and firmly, with the addition of a teasing rub of his thumb to the sensitive spot just on the underside of my head, I was going to come really fucking soon.

“Yes,” I gasped, my breaths short and choppy and my heart racing, even though I would’ve sworn all of my blood was currently concentrated in my cock.

“Do it. C’mon, boo. Come for me. Come for me now.”

“Yesss. Fuuuck…”

That first spurt was painfully wonderful. As were the second, and the third, and… Fuck, I had no idea how many times my cock shot or how much cum blasted out of me. But it all felt so good. So fantastically, achingly, throbbingly, mind-numbingly good.

As for whether or not I’d managed to get it into the toilet the way he’d requested… My eyes had slammed shut the second I’d started coming, so who the fuck knows. He seemed pretty happy with how my orgasm had gone, so there was that at least.

“Hmm. Good, boo, that’s so good. You did so good.”

My dick was still hard, tingling with the aftershocks of such a hard orgasm, when his fingers opened and released me. I was too busy standing there—trembling, with my eyes closed tight and my bare cock sticking out of the flap in my briefs and dangling in the air—to turn around and look, but I could hear him behind me, unspooling some toilet paper with a rumbling whir.

“Oh, don’t forget to flush, boo,” he said.

He sounded so calm, so totally unaffected. Granted, he’d had a little bit of time to recover from his orgasm, but had his not rocked his world the way mine had?

“Guess I’ll see you around,” he added.

And… Was that it? Was that all he was going to say to me? Again ?

No, that couldn’t be it. Right? I couldn’t do this again. I couldn’t go another day…days, a week, without knowing for sure when I’d get to see my angel again. That I would, indeed, get to see him again.

But my brain was still mostly offline, and I hadn’t managed to do much more than splutter a few non-word noises and feebly twitch my hands when the sound of my angel snicking open the stall lock hit my ears.

Shit. Fucking shit.

I guess that would be—

“Boo?” he called.

And now I did manage to turn around. Forcing my eyes open, I saw that my angel was standing framed in the open stall doorway, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

His stunning, pale blue eyes met my ho-hum, average blue eyes and, when he saw me looking at him—both of us pointedly ignoring the fact that my naked, deflating dick was still flapping in the breeze—he spoke again.

“Just so you know, this time, by ‘see you around’ I mean tomorrow. Here, at Glitter. About 9:00PM again. Okay?”

“Yes? Yes. Fuck yes,” I replied. Relieved. Ecstatic. Already anticipating tomorrow night.

But my angel was already gone.

Almost as soon as he’d said his last word, and before I’d gotten my first ‘yes’ out, he’d already started walking away.

But that was okay. He’d given my desperation a reprieve with the promise that I’d only have to endure a little less than 24 hours until I got to see him again.

I could do that.

I just had to hope that my angel believed in keeping his promises.