we celebrating?”
“I’m sure we’ll think of something. That’s the great thing with champagne. A few glasses and you feel like you’ve got something to celebrate even if you haven’t. Anyway, it’s the only thing to drink with coke. I’ve got another gram somewhere. I was going to save it for later. Sex on coke is just the best, but I don’t think I’ll be seeing Graham this weekend. And you know me. I can’t sleep if there’s a gram of coke in the house.”
Martin forced a smile and wondered if he was the only person in London who hadn’t experienced sex on cocaine. He wished Caroline wouldn’t insist on ordering champagne every time they went out together. He always felt so conspicuous drinking champagne in a gay bar. It made him feel like one of those aging queens you saw hanging around the clubs, flashing their money about in a desperate attempt to impress the younger pretty boys. Still, there was no point arguing with Caroline when she was in this mood, and it was kind of her to offer to pay. “Right,” he said brightly. “Champagne it is.”
They polished off the first bottle in less than an hour, punctuated by frequent trips to the toilets for what Caroline liked to describe as “cheeky little bumps” of coke. By the time the second bottle arrived, Martin didn’t care how naughty he looked. He was feeling more confident than he had felt in a long time. He was also beginning to understand how Caroline managed to stay so slim, despite her aversion to exercise and a job that seemed to revolve around boozy business lunches. He hadn’t eaten anything except a slice of toast all day, and he had no appetite whatsoever. A few more nights like this and he could soon stop worrying about the love handles. What’s more, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so horny. So this was what Caroline meant about coke being the best social and sexual lubricant there was. Not only did it keep you slim and give you the confidence to chat people up, it also turned you into some kind of sexual athlete. He felt like he could fuck for hours. The only problem was, at this precise moment in time, he didn’t have anyone to fuck with. Images of Christopher engaged in a variety of sexual positions with Marco flashed before his eyes like the trailer for a particularly bad porn movie, and he felt his confidence begin to drain away.
“That guy over there keeps looking at you,” Caroline said, nudging him under the table. “The one standing by the cigarette machine. Sexy, don’t you think?”
Martin looked. It wasn’t often that he agreed with Caroline’s assessment of what made a sexy man—Graham was a rare exception—but there was no denying that the hunk standing next to the cigarette machine with the curly black hair, the tight red T-shirt and the bulging biceps was indeed sexy. As a matter of fact, he was one of the sexiest men Martin thought he had seen in his entire life. And to top it all, he was smiling—not in a cocky “Yes, I know I’m gorgeous” sort of way, but in a friendly “Yes, I’d like to meet you” sort of way. Martin’s mouth went dry. A sheepish grin spread across his face. He blushed and quickly turned to Caroline.
“I think you’re in there,” Caroline said. “Quick, go and talk to him before he decides you’re not interested.”
“But I’m not really used to this sort of thing,” Martin protested. “What shall I say?”
“Well, you could always start by saying hello,” a voice said. Martin looked up. His admirer was standing over him, still smiling and looking even sexier at close range. “I’m Rob,” he said, offering Martin his hand. Then, glancing at the half-empty champagne bottle: “So what are you two celebrating?”
Martin shook Rob’s hand and blushed even more intensely. “Nothing really,” he mumbled.
“Actually, that’s not true,” Caroline said firmly. “We’re celebrating the fact that my friend Martin here has finally seen the light
“I’m sure we’ll think of something. That’s the great thing with champagne. A few glasses and you feel like you’ve got something to celebrate even if you haven’t. Anyway, it’s the only thing to drink with coke. I’ve got another gram somewhere. I was going to save it for later. Sex on coke is just the best, but I don’t think I’ll be seeing Graham this weekend. And you know me. I can’t sleep if there’s a gram of coke in the house.”
Martin forced a smile and wondered if he was the only person in London who hadn’t experienced sex on cocaine. He wished Caroline wouldn’t insist on ordering champagne every time they went out together. He always felt so conspicuous drinking champagne in a gay bar. It made him feel like one of those aging queens you saw hanging around the clubs, flashing their money about in a desperate attempt to impress the younger pretty boys. Still, there was no point arguing with Caroline when she was in this mood, and it was kind of her to offer to pay. “Right,” he said brightly. “Champagne it is.”
They polished off the first bottle in less than an hour, punctuated by frequent trips to the toilets for what Caroline liked to describe as “cheeky little bumps” of coke. By the time the second bottle arrived, Martin didn’t care how naughty he looked. He was feeling more confident than he had felt in a long time. He was also beginning to understand how Caroline managed to stay so slim, despite her aversion to exercise and a job that seemed to revolve around boozy business lunches. He hadn’t eaten anything except a slice of toast all day, and he had no appetite whatsoever. A few more nights like this and he could soon stop worrying about the love handles. What’s more, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so horny. So this was what Caroline meant about coke being the best social and sexual lubricant there was. Not only did it keep you slim and give you the confidence to chat people up, it also turned you into some kind of sexual athlete. He felt like he could fuck for hours. The only problem was, at this precise moment in time, he didn’t have anyone to fuck with. Images of Christopher engaged in a variety of sexual positions with Marco flashed before his eyes like the trailer for a particularly bad porn movie, and he felt his confidence begin to drain away.
“That guy over there keeps looking at you,” Caroline said, nudging him under the table. “The one standing by the cigarette machine. Sexy, don’t you think?”
Martin looked. It wasn’t often that he agreed with Caroline’s assessment of what made a sexy man—Graham was a rare exception—but there was no denying that the hunk standing next to the cigarette machine with the curly black hair, the tight red T-shirt and the bulging biceps was indeed sexy. As a matter of fact, he was one of the sexiest men Martin thought he had seen in his entire life. And to top it all, he was smiling—not in a cocky “Yes, I know I’m gorgeous” sort of way, but in a friendly “Yes, I’d like to meet you” sort of way. Martin’s mouth went dry. A sheepish grin spread across his face. He blushed and quickly turned to Caroline.
“I think you’re in there,” Caroline said. “Quick, go and talk to him before he decides you’re not interested.”
“But I’m not really used to this sort of thing,” Martin protested. “What shall I say?”
“Well, you could always start by saying hello,” a voice said. Martin looked up. His admirer was standing over him, still smiling and looking even sexier at close range. “I’m Rob,” he said, offering Martin his hand. Then, glancing at the half-empty champagne bottle: “So what are you two celebrating?”
Martin shook Rob’s hand and blushed even more intensely. “Nothing really,” he mumbled.
“Actually, that’s not true,” Caroline said firmly. “We’re celebrating the fact that my friend Martin here has finally seen the light
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