Page 2 of Switch

Taking the back stairs down to the main floor of the club, I’m grateful to see things have picked up for the night.Daniel’s not around, thank goodness.I don’t need his worry or his knowing looks.I’m already feeling too frayed around the edges.Too…cracked open at the seams.

I’m halfway past the bar when I see two men fucking on a platform inside of what looks like a human-sized birdcage.There’s a crowd gathered around.Everyone’s enraptured by the couple.

And they must be a couple.Their body language makes it so clear that they’re lovers.The slow undulations, the straining muscles, the way the top caresses the bottom’s cheek and whispers in his ear.They’re in a room filled with people, but they’re only aware of each other.

It’s love.Intimacy.Connection.

My pulse rushes as I watch them, my arousal tempered by a bittersweet longing.What they have together is remarkable.I’d give anything to have someone lay claim to me that way again.

“Amazing, right?”

I jerk my head to the side.There’s a man there, a few inches shorter than me, thin, with glasses.A smattering of body jewelry gives him a goth vibe.Experience also suggests to me a submissive vibe.

“Uh, yeah.They’re…” I turn back to look at the couple.They’re wrapped around each other so thoroughly I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.I only know something aches deep inside of me when one sinks his teeth into the other’s neck, leaving an obvious sign of ownership.The same spot on my body throbs with phantom pain.

You’ll get there.

Will I?At the moment, those two men and what they have feel so much further away than the other end of this massive room.

“Hey.Can I buy you a drink?”The man with glasses is too close.Trying too hard.He looks almost sweet in spite of the goth vibe.Too hopeful.Too submissive.

You’ll get there.Soon, I think.

Today’s not that day.

“I was just leaving.”When his face falls, I clear my throat, adding, “We wouldn’t be a match.Trust me.”

People tend to make assumptions based on my size.While I’ve had thoughts about being the one in the driver’s seat once in a while, it’s not what I want now.What I want is what I lost when I lost Marina.

Before Glasses Guy can say more, I’m heading out through the nearest door.

The muggy Florida night weighs me down.I’m already greedy for a shower and my comfortable bed.Not that I’ll sleep, but at least I can be introverted and unsure of myself without having to put on appearances.

My phone rings as I’m traversing the winding road that leads from Beacon Hill to my home in Belle Argo.My brother’s name and picture pop up on the screen.It’s tempting to let it go to voicemail, but he’ll only call back.

“Can’t talk long, Wes.I’m driving.”

“Wow.You went out?Or am I catching you on a late-night pickles and ice cream run?”

“What?”

“It’s a joke, bro.Pickles and ice cream, like they say pregnant women have cravings?”

“You’re hilarious,” I sigh.

There’s a pinch in my sternum that I try to ignore.Marina and I were fighting right before she died.About having kids.

This stretch of road I’m on is dark and quiet.I’m only now realizing I have a headlight out.“Wes, I gotta focus on the road,” I tell him.

“Cool, cool.Real quick: I’ve set up a date for you.Mama Elisabetta’s.Friday.My treat.”

A deer shoots across the road.I slam on my brakes.

My heart is racing.My chest is tight.I’m back in that dungeon again, dizzy and defeated.Frayed around the edges.

“So?What do you say?”Wes prompts.

“Fuck.”I forgot I was even holding the phone.“You did what?”