Here you'll find

 

Into the Light

 

 

 

 

9. I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind of Thing

It's a veritable throng here, a press of bodies from all directions no matter which way I try to move. Music, horns and drums on top of everything, people swaying to it even on their way to get drinks from the bar. I'm enjoying this, thank you very much, this amount of body heat around me, all of them male... younger, older, dark, blonde, handsomely grizzled, redheads, everything in between. Talking, dancing, having fun.

This is absolutely incredible. Oh if I had known that all this is waiting for me here, I wouldn't have stayed away this long - not for anything. Chaim or no Chaim, I would've come running on the very day of our arrival, instead of declaring only today my unshakeable intention to come and see at last what these 'gay bars' are all about. Shit, I should've asked Eye-candy a few more questions...

But never mind, now I definitely want to find a seat, somewhere in a place where I can perch and just look. Stare. Ogle. Preferably somewhere close to the dance floor. This music is fascinating, just like the other day in the park it makes me want to sway and bounce, but first I want to see how people dance to it. I have no idea, and it won't do to ask anyone to dance without knowing how to.

This doesn't have any pretense of refined, sophisticated socializing - no, this is raw and a little wild, this is for fun, and damn but I love it. The dance floor is to my left, which is why I'll head that way and start squeezing through the grinder so that - shit!

"Oh!" What a sexy gasp, but what the fuck is this cold and wet on my arm. "I'm so sorry!"

He's a nice-looking young thing, lean face, narrow chin, reddish brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. He, too, has somehow managed to avoid most of the splashes from our glasses as we've stumbled, or perhaps been jolted, to bump into each other. I smile to him, examine the nearly nonexistent damages. We're both mostly dry, at least our clothes are, but there's a pond at our feet.

"Never mind, you suffered the bigger losses here." His glass is almost empty, mine still has about half its contents left.

"No, no, please let me get you a new one!" He turns with an apologetic smile, then glances once more at my glass. "A Sunrise, wasn't it? Just a moment, please let me..."

I open my mouth to tell him it's not really necessary, I haven't come here to drink, but my tongue refuses to move when my gaze is irresistibly drawn to his backside. After a few seconds I remember to snap my jaw shut again, so as to not start drooling while I stretch my neck in an effort to see him in the crowd as long as possible. Good gods but the boy has a lovely ass... and the way it moves when he walks is totally intoxicating.

I lose sight of him and barely resist the urge to wipe my mouth. So narrow, tight, rounded, over a pair of very nicely developed thighs. Right now I'm not quite sure if I'd recognize his face again, but that bottom - that I'd recognize anywhere. And I'd gladly grope a feel, too.

But wait a moment. This is, after all, a gay bar. Which means that He With The Shapely Ass shouldn't by all accounts mind too terribly even if I do grope a feel. At some point, that is... granted, it wouldn't be very polite according to any set of rules to do it right away. But, since he's kindly gone to get me a new drink to replace my half-spilled one, I now have the perfect excuse to invite him to sit down with me. Provided, of course, that I can find a place where to rest that enticing part of his anatomy. Other than my lap, that is.

Oh, truly the gods are smiling upon me tonight. I spy an empty corner - all right, it's not exactly next to the dance floor but who fucking cares - and then devote myself to praying that it would stay empty until the boy returns, all the time inching closer to it.

And there he is... I see the ponytail, he slips through the crowd carrying two full glasses, lower lip pulled between front teeth in concentration. His eyes meet mine, I point towards the still empty seats and dash forward to secure them. Victory! He follows me swiftly and puts the glasses on the table with a small, triumphant grin.

"Thank you," I say and watch a little regretfully as he settles his shapely ass on the chair I offer him. "You really wouldn't have needed..."

"But of course!" His hand waves my protests away and he takes a sip from his glass, smiles to me over the rim. "Great that you found these seats!"

"I was looking for a seat, I guess that's why my eyes were elsewhere... although it's quite inexcusable that I didn't see you at once."

His smile broadens, it's just a tad shy, but he doesn't look away. Ah. A good sign. "You're not from Dirna," he states. "Uman?"

"Correct." I'm not turning my eyes either; why should I? I've got something pleasant to look at. Now I think I'd also recognize the face. Nothing too remarkable, but nice anyway. "How did you know?"

"Nothing in particular, just the accent." He shrugs. "You're here on holiday?"

"Yeah." My Sunrise tastes nice, but I'd better watch myself - it's a little too easy to imbibe it too quickly if I go on like this, just looking into his eyes... they're not blue. Light brown maybe? Nothing very dark, anyway. "Wanted to see some local nightlife. Do you come here often?" Ooh, Toni, couldn't you get any lamer than that?

"Every now and then. They usually have good music here." He smiles. "I don't go out awfully often, though."

"Why not?" I'm surprised. "I'm sure you'd have no lack of company!"

"Sometimes I work in the evenings," he explains, obviously amused and pleased with my flattery. "And I don't always feel like going. But I usually go to dance when I do go out."

"I bet you dance well." I can't stop smiling at him. "You move like -" I hesitate a moment. If he were a girl I'd have no problem saying that he moves like a dancer, but to say that to a guy... My tongue, however, decides to run away with me. "Like a dancer."

Now he's almost grinning. "Thanks. In fact I am a dancer."

My jaw drops. The hell? This doesn't compute. "Dancer? As in... what do you mean?"

"Oh, you probably won't have heard of it," he says. "We call it 'free dance', in contrast to the classical style, you know it?"

Sure I know classical dance. That extremely ancient and artistic and stylized art form that requires years of concentrates study and hours upon hours of sitting in the audience with a deeply appreciative frown on your face before you can even begin to appreciate it... okay, okay, just my uninformed opinion. But anyway. And what the hell is 'free dance'?

I must look nonplussed; he smiles and shrugs. "It's very different from the classical style, anyway. But I hope to become a professional, one day."

And now I'm seriously intrigued! "I guess it's not something you could show me here... but how about teaching me how to dance to this music, for starters? I haven't got a clue."

"Sure!" He nods, ponytail bobbing, glances over his shoulder towards the dance floor. "But not now. We'd better start with something a little slower."

I look at the intricate footwork and grimace. "Uh - yes, I'm sure you're right... By the way, I think we've skipped introductions. I'm Toni."

"Rashim", he says. His face is narrow, somehow catlike, and maybe I'm imagining but the eyes look slightly slanted. He's cute.

"Nice to meet you." I raise my glass and he returns the gesture, then cocks his head and listens.

"Hey, this sounds good - like to try?" I swear he's looking hopeful, and I have barely nodded before I'm being pulled towards the dance floor. "Come on!"

I follow him like the good boy I am, stealing glances at his fascinating backside, and far too soon we reach the dance floor and Rashim turns around - only to pull my hands on his hips. I swallow when his arms wrap loosely around my neck.

"Now you can feel what I do," he grins. "Okay?"

Ooh yeah, baby... sure it's okay. More than okay. And I wonder whether you'll mind if my hands stray a bit at some point?

We dance every single piece that is at least moderately slow, and Rashim doesn't mind even though my hands don't stay all the time in their designated place. He just smiles a bit and his arms tighten on my shoulders. But I don't overdo it. I'm not cruel, and it's becoming increasingly, frighteningly clear that even though my mind says Rashim is sexy as hell, my body isn't going to act upon the idea. What the hell is wrong with me?

But at least I can dance with him. I can chat with him, laugh with him, have a few drinks, dance some more, and walk him home when the orchestra finally calls it a day. And at the door of the house where he lives, I can kiss him. Long and deep.

He kisses well.

And when he asks if we could see again in a day or two, I can nod and ask where.

Well, my stupid body, let me tell you that you haven't managed to completely spoil my night. I won't have to lie through clenched teeth in the morning when Chaim asks me if I had a good time, because I did.

I just wish I knew how long you're going to go on with this goddamn charade.

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