Nobody seemed terribly hungry. Nobody seemed much inclined to engage in small talk, either.
What really put crawlies in my stomach were the stories Todd and Fal told about two men they’d had contact with over the past week. Both had seen the same sudden changes in Todd and Fal that I’d seen in Jake.
“Do you find those guys attractive?” I asked them.
Todd immediately got the blinkity-blinks. He grabbed his drink and sipped. Fallon, Buffalo wing to lips, was only slightly more forthcoming.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Uh…yeah,” Fal said. “Much to my surprise.
Ty’s a hideous drag queen—I mean, he’d give RuPaul serious nightmares—but there’s a really sweet and unassuming and damned masculine man beneath that glitter. I like him. I like him a lot.”
“You’d do him?” I asked. There was no reason to pussyfoot around the issue.
“Fuck, I don’t know, David. I’ve never gotten a good look at him.”
I had a feeling there was an affirmative lurking within Fal’s answer. He was fighting it, that’s all. Maybe he felt embarrassed about having a crush on a drag queen—especially a bumbling one.
“What about Gabriel?” I asked Todd. “Sounds like you were ready to give him a chance.”
Todd grimaced with discomfort and indecision. I could see why he resisted admitting he found Gabe appealing. He’d invested a lot of time and energy in convincing himself and us that he didn’t find Gabe appealing.
“I might. He’s actually kind of cute. Used to be a gymnast, you know, so he probably has a decent body.” Todd smiled uncertainly. “A compact one, but—”
“Oh for godssake,” I said, exasperated by their nonstop emphasis on men’s appearances. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with being drawn to a guy because of his mind or heart or sense of humor or dazzling smile or whatever the fuck doesn’t have to do with abs and pecs and butts and packages and height.”
Normally, they would’ve told me I was free to like whatever warthog came my way, but I should shitcan the sermonizing and let them be as shallow as they pleased. Now, though, with their superiority complexes severely undermined, not one of these guys could muster any bluster. Instead, they sipped their drinks and listlessly picked at the food tray.
“Okay,” I said, “here’s what I think. Because dicked if I can come up with anything else, and because there was something very different about that man at the Foxhole last month.”
Immediately, my three companions assumed I meant the pretty one. I told them no, I meant the man he was with…but I’d get to that later.
“It’s abundantly clear,” I said “that this skin condition is only visible to guys you want.” I looked at Jake. “After we, uh…took care of business in your office, I told you the patches on your skin were more noticeable to me. And I mean considerably more noticeable.”
A blush spread over the unblemished parts of Jake’s face, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Well, you know…” The words were barely audible. He cleared his throat.
I smiled, trying to alleviate his embarrassment. “Yeah, I know.” As he lowered his eyes, I addressed Fal and Todd. “And the better those guys look to you ,” I went on, “the worse you look to them . Believe it or not, that’s the upside. You only look like corned beef hash to the vapid, toned-and-tanned douches you normally go after.”
“Careful, darling,” Fal said, “that sour-grape juice is dribbling down your chin.”
“Shut up, Fallon. You know I’m right.”
He gave me a lifted-eyebrows look of umbrage, but he did shut up.
Satisfied, I went on. “It’s as if…the rash was intended specifically to keep you from hooking up with your favorite kind of men.”
My companions stared at me. Todd had just slid some sort of rollup into his mouth, and he momentarily looked like a fledgling porn actor who didn’t quite know what to do with the dick between his
What really put crawlies in my stomach were the stories Todd and Fal told about two men they’d had contact with over the past week. Both had seen the same sudden changes in Todd and Fal that I’d seen in Jake.
“Do you find those guys attractive?” I asked them.
Todd immediately got the blinkity-blinks. He grabbed his drink and sipped. Fallon, Buffalo wing to lips, was only slightly more forthcoming.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Uh…yeah,” Fal said. “Much to my surprise.
Ty’s a hideous drag queen—I mean, he’d give RuPaul serious nightmares—but there’s a really sweet and unassuming and damned masculine man beneath that glitter. I like him. I like him a lot.”
“You’d do him?” I asked. There was no reason to pussyfoot around the issue.
“Fuck, I don’t know, David. I’ve never gotten a good look at him.”
I had a feeling there was an affirmative lurking within Fal’s answer. He was fighting it, that’s all. Maybe he felt embarrassed about having a crush on a drag queen—especially a bumbling one.
“What about Gabriel?” I asked Todd. “Sounds like you were ready to give him a chance.”
Todd grimaced with discomfort and indecision. I could see why he resisted admitting he found Gabe appealing. He’d invested a lot of time and energy in convincing himself and us that he didn’t find Gabe appealing.
“I might. He’s actually kind of cute. Used to be a gymnast, you know, so he probably has a decent body.” Todd smiled uncertainly. “A compact one, but—”
“Oh for godssake,” I said, exasperated by their nonstop emphasis on men’s appearances. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with being drawn to a guy because of his mind or heart or sense of humor or dazzling smile or whatever the fuck doesn’t have to do with abs and pecs and butts and packages and height.”
Normally, they would’ve told me I was free to like whatever warthog came my way, but I should shitcan the sermonizing and let them be as shallow as they pleased. Now, though, with their superiority complexes severely undermined, not one of these guys could muster any bluster. Instead, they sipped their drinks and listlessly picked at the food tray.
“Okay,” I said, “here’s what I think. Because dicked if I can come up with anything else, and because there was something very different about that man at the Foxhole last month.”
Immediately, my three companions assumed I meant the pretty one. I told them no, I meant the man he was with…but I’d get to that later.
“It’s abundantly clear,” I said “that this skin condition is only visible to guys you want.” I looked at Jake. “After we, uh…took care of business in your office, I told you the patches on your skin were more noticeable to me. And I mean considerably more noticeable.”
A blush spread over the unblemished parts of Jake’s face, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Well, you know…” The words were barely audible. He cleared his throat.
I smiled, trying to alleviate his embarrassment. “Yeah, I know.” As he lowered his eyes, I addressed Fal and Todd. “And the better those guys look to you ,” I went on, “the worse you look to them . Believe it or not, that’s the upside. You only look like corned beef hash to the vapid, toned-and-tanned douches you normally go after.”
“Careful, darling,” Fal said, “that sour-grape juice is dribbling down your chin.”
“Shut up, Fallon. You know I’m right.”
He gave me a lifted-eyebrows look of umbrage, but he did shut up.
Satisfied, I went on. “It’s as if…the rash was intended specifically to keep you from hooking up with your favorite kind of men.”
My companions stared at me. Todd had just slid some sort of rollup into his mouth, and he momentarily looked like a fledgling porn actor who didn’t quite know what to do with the dick between his
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