The Bachelor Weekend Deal Pt. 01

"Hey, can I get a beer and a gin and tonic?" The guy asking had just squeezed himself into the fractional space along the bar next to me.

"What kinda beer, honey?" Asked the bartender, already pouring out the gin and tonic water simultaneously.

"Whatever's good." The man turned toward me; out of the corner of my eye, I could see his eyes dart from my face to the half empty glass of beer in my hand. "Gimme what he's got. And make it two."

The bartender craned his neck to see my glass. Unquestionably able to hear that I'd been drawn into this situation, I raised my glass slightly and said, "Heineken."

"Oh. Oh, no. Cancel that, sweetheart." The man said, leaning his head toward the bartender but keeping his gaze on the side of my face. "Better make it something else, uh..."

He clicked his fingers, trying to remember, before saying, "What's that hoppy one at the end with the lighthouse?"

There was a gentlemanly drawl to his southern accent, the kind that made each syllable a slow and deliberate delicacy. I chanced a glance at him as he waved at the lighthouse shaped tap. He looked back at me briefly and caught my eye as I stared. I quickly turned my gaze back to my beer.

The bartender came back with the beer in two glasses, the froth overflowing, and I dared a second time to watch him as casually as I could while he dealt with the check.

He was a brawny man. Taller than me and had dark curly hair and beard with bright blue eyes. His forearms were hairy, as was his meaty chest and round belly, which were visible through the striped button down he wore open. If I asked Josh, I bet he'd tell me this guy was a 'bear.' For his bottoms, he was wearing only a bright red speedo.

"Here you go, darlin'," he said when the transaction was complete and he slid one of the beer glasses over to me. "This one's for you. Trust me, it's better than whatever you believe you're gettin' outta that piss." He nodded toward my glass.

I turned, finally, to face him. "Hey, listen. I'm not..."

"Darlin', I don't really care what you're about to say," he leaned in closer and tapped me delicately on the nose, "just try the beer and tell me that's not better."

I was taken aback by the bold move, and he just stood there with a playful and expectant expression on his face. Up close, I could see that his face was well groomed. There was not a curl out of place nor a beard hair astray. A pearl dangled from his right ear and he wore a thin gold chain with a pendant I couldn't quite see. It lay partially obscured by his copious chest hair. But it was his eyes that held me captive for that brief moment. They were just so blue.

"I... I..." I let out an exhale when I couldn't find the next words, and I reached for the beer.

Turns out, it was definitely a better beer than the Heineken.

"You see, darlin'?" He said, not even waiting for my response. Then he blew me a kiss before whisking away with his drinks in hand. I watched him blend back into the crowd of similarly dressed men before turning back to the bar to sip my new beer.

The weekend was just getting started and already I was regretting having come. Random gay men don't buy me drinks at home.

"There you are!" Josh's voice came suddenly from my left and I jumped. "We've been looking for you for like ten minutes!"

My brother was dressed in even less clothing than the burly man who bought me the beer. His white jock strap, white chest harness and flowing white veil marked him as the blushing groom for our bachelor party weekend.

"What are you doing, hiding all the way over here?"

"I'm not hiding," I fired back half-heartedly.

"Yes, you are! The bar is for you to get drinks, flirt with the bartender, and leave!" He produced a bright white fan out of nowhere and clacked it hard on the last word. His gaggle of groomsmen all hooted and hollered at this. Each one dressed in a hot pink speedo with matching pink harness. The uniform for our group tonight, which I was indeed wearing, but still had covered by a pair of cargo shorts and a black tee, having literally never been so exposed in public before.

"Well I'm definitely not here to flirt with the bartender," I said into my beer, taking an embarrassed sip.

"Obviously," Josh said bitingly as he eyed my clothes with disdain, before switching tact. "Come on, big bro! You promised you'd be a part of the fun this weekend. You promised you'd try!"

"Yeah, Dan! Come on!" One of the other groomsmen joined in.

"Let's go, party boy!" Called another, reaching forward and scooping my nipple through my shirt. I flinched in response and the thin redhead giggled together with the others.

Josh put an arm around my shoulders to turn me away from his friends' taunting.

"Come on, Dan," he began in a sweetened brotherly tone. "It's just this weekend. Then you can go back to your Call of Duty crew or whatever you call those video game friends of yours."

"I just call them friends."

"Whatever," he said dismissively. "That's not the point."

I sighed.

"I know. I know."

"Ok, so you'll brighten up a bit?" Josh said hopefully. He hitched a searching smile that I knew to be sincere.

"I... oh, alright," I conceded.

"Yay!" He clapped his hands quickly and pressed his advantage. "So you'll take off these horridly straight clothes now, right?"

"Definitely not, little bro."

"But we're doing a whole thing!" Josh pouted.

"I have never been anywhere in public dressed like you guys." I swung my hand broadly at the sea of flesh churning with the music around us.

"Well then don't think about this as public!" He draped an arm around my shoulder again and gestured at the same crowd with the air of one fox showing another how the latch of the hen house worked. "None of those people know who you are. Isn't that brilliant?"

"How's that supposed to make me feel any more comfortable walking around in a bright pink speedo?"

"Because, big bro, that means you can play a character." Josh thumped me on the chest with that foxish grin, but I still didn't get it. My face must have shown it because he rolled his eyes.

"Tonight you're not 'Dan,' okay?" He sketched air quotes around my name. "Tonight - you're 'Danny'!" Jazz hands.

I blinked.

"What I mean is you have nothing to be afraid of with all these guys out here. You don't know them, they don't know you. You can be whoever you want to be and no one will know the difference! That's what queer spaces are all about. So, how about tonight, you pretend to be just a little more gay and a little less..." He waved a limp-wristed circle at me.

"Less what?" I said flatly.

"Tragically straight." He deadpanned.

"Ouch."

"You know what I mean! Ugh!" Josh squared off in front of me and fixed me with that all-business stare he got from our mom. "Look, how about this. You pretend, or do whatever you gotta do to convince me and all these other bitches" another sweep at the writhing mass of muscled men "that this weekend, you're here to have a gay ol' time, just like the rest of us. And next month, I'll join your team for that COD tournament you keep talking about."

Now, that made me pause. Flamboyant as my younger brother may be, strutting around here in his jock strap and bridal veil, he was the best goddamn Call of Duty player I'd ever seen. I couldn't tell you how he got that good, if I'm honest, and none of my buddies ever believed me when I told them he was. But when Josh sits down in that chair, patches into the comms and gets in the zone, he's damn near unstoppable.

Until now, though, he'd never agreed to play with us in our tournaments. It's been such a shame to see his talent wasted, since he never likes to play in groups (something about "toxic masculinity" or whatever). But now, maybe we could actually have a shot at the prize money!

"Well?" He could see my gears turning. "Do we have a deal or not, bro?"

"O- okay," I said tentatively. He cocked his head and I strengthened my voice. "Yes. Fine. Alright!"

"YASSSSS!" Came a loud call in my ear. One of his other groomsmen - Benji - had obviously been listening to the dealmaking. I jumped, but Josh smiled broadly and joined in.

"Yas! It's 'Danny' time!" He clacked his fan again as the other groomsmen rushed toward me.

"Come on, let's get you more comfortable!" Craig - one of Josh's more muscly friends grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it upward. I sighed and reluctantly raised my arms to let him take it off me. A deal's a deal, I guess.

I did grab his hands to stop him undoing the button to my cargo shorts, though.

"I can get these myself," I said warningly.

Craig raised his hands and stepped slightly backward, "Hey, you do you, love. But hand them over and I'll take them to the coat check."

I undid the button and unzipped the fly, slipping the shorts down my legs slowly and keeping my hands covering the bulge I knew to be on full display now that I was down to just the speedo and harness.

"Damn, Josh!" I heard Allan, the shortest of the group, loudly club-whisper in my brother's ear. "I didn't know your brother was so hung!"

I felt my face turn red and I turned my body away from them just as I heard Josh reply severely, "Ew! Down dog," he dipped his fingers in his drink and flicked them at Allan, "off limits, you hear!"

I didn't catch Allan's response, which was drowned out by the music, but in the mirror behind the bar I could see him raise his hands in mock defeat, though his eyes very obviously roamed down to my pink-clad ass.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My short cropped hair was hard to mess up, so I seemed well-enough groomed. And at least I'd shaved before coming out tonight. The harness cut into my underarms a bit and I fiddled with the straps to get them in a more comfortable position.

"Looking good!" Benji yelled behind me; I turned to look at him. "Seriously! I didn't know you could get arms like that playing video games all day."

"You can't," I said, not really picking up on the banter. "I'm a landscaper, I do a lot of physical stuff during the day."

"Well, it definitely shows." He gave me a quick wink. "Now we just gotta wax you up from clavicle to panty-line, suck it in a little, and we'll be good to go!"

"Uh..." I looked down at my slightly hairy belly, which was a bit pudgier than the others'.

"Hey, hey, hey," Josh came to my rescue, pursing his lips in a judgemental look at Benji. "Keep your body dysmorphia to yourself, bitch!"

"Oh, just trying to help out." Benji fixed me with a dangerously playful stare, his rich auburn hair falling slightly over one eye. "Your bro could really clean up in here if he gave it a real shot." He scrunched my bare shoulder and I shivered slightly.

"Well stop trying to help, then, if you're going to be a little cunt about it." Josh laughed and smacked Benji on the ass with his fan.

Benji squealed a giggle and the two of them dissolved into a fit of laughter trying to tickle each other.

"Ok, everybody!" Amir, the last groomsman in the party, called out over the crowd. "A shot for everyone and two for the groom!"

He pointed to the bar where the bartender was pouring tequila into a row of seven shot glasses.

"Wooooo!"

Everyone reached over to the bar and grabbed a glass. Allan grabbed two and handed me one with a big grin.

"Cheers," he said only to me and clinked my glass. I watched him down it before turning to face Josh and mouthing, "Happy fuckin' Birthday," then sending it down the hatch.

The tequila burned in its familiar way and I coughed a little before catching another glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Well, I guess no one's gonna call me a faggot in here, I thought before ordering another shot of liquid courage for myself and downing that one too. Better make the best of it, I guess!

The night started out fairly tame.

Despite my initial discomfort with the outfit, what Josh said held true - I did not stick out like a sore thumb. And, as we danced our way through the club, bumping into sweaty shoulders and feeling the heat of several hundred gyrating bodies, I even found myself able to let loose and enjoy it a bit.

We kept a circle around Josh as he lapped up the attention. Men nearby would notice his veil and scream their congratulations or buy him drinks. Some of the groomsmen would pair off for a bit with these interlopers, disappearing into the crowd with their lips locked, hands roaming, and hips moving with the music. We'd close the gap in their absence but I was always surprised at how quickly they'd come back, as if nothing had happened.

I bought a few more drinks and was feeling pretty buzzed when I suddenly felt something else - something a little more hand-shaped - cupping my ass.

I twitched away and turned to see a guy, dressed in a gold jockstrap and matching shoes, with a series of gold chains hanging haphazardly about his very cut body. He flashed me a smile and swayed his hips to the music as he stepped toward me, taking his cue from the fact that I turned to face him. He seemed to think it was an invitation.

I stopped dancing and very firmly put my hands on his shoulders to stop him coming closer.

"Hey, sorry, no thank you," I yelled as loud as I could over the electronica beats.

"Aw, come on, baby," he said, taking my hands from his shoulders and trying to dance with me.

"No buddy, sorry, I'm just here with my brother." I pulled my hands back to my body and jammed a thumb over my shoulder at Josh. The man glanced behind me.

"Oh, a bride-to-be, I see!"

"Yeah." Though I was yelling, my tone remained flat and I kept as much distance as I could manage. I didn't want to give this guy an inch, I could practically smell the horny testosterone coursing through him.

"Well, I'm sure he won't miss you much," he said, trying for a third time to slip into my personal space.

"I'm straight!" I yelled, my hands stopping him at the shoulders again.

"Really?" He seemed, if possible, even more intrigued. "Could've fooled me, baby!"

The smirk he gave me was unnerving.

"Yeah- well... I am. Sorry."

"No need to be sorry, hun," he said devilishly. "I love a challenge."

And with that, he deftly pinched my nipple and melted back into the crowd. For some odd reason, the tweak to my nipple had stirred something dull and distant in my speedo.

I must be drunk. I shook my head again to clear it and looked up to find Josh staring at me as he danced.

"Who was that?" He asked, leaning close to my ear to be heard.

"I don't know," I responded in turn.

"He was fuckin' hot! Did he want to dance?"

"He did. I told him, no, so I think he's gone now."

"You should've danced with him!"

"Why?! I'm not gonna hook up with him or anything."

"Yeah but dancing doesn't mean you have to hook up with him."

"I know that." Though, admittedly, I wasn't so convinced. Men were hooking up all over and I felt certain that if I danced with anyone, I'd start down a slippery slope that I didn't want to slide down.

"Come on, bro! You promised you'd gay it up a bit!"

"Yeah, but you know that's not what I meant!"

"I'm not saying go lay some pipe!" Josh laughed. "I'm just saying, 'Danny' would have totally danced with that guy."

His use of my new alternate persona's name made me stop. I did want him to play with us in the tournament next month... I exhaled and ran my hands over my buzzed hair. Josh was being vindictively manipulative. I could see the wicked glint in my little brother's very intoxicated eye.

"'Danny'- " I mimed quotes, "is not a slut." My defense was feeble and desperate, and Josh smiled broader, seeing that I'd taken some ownership of the name.

"How would you know?" He quipped without missing a beat. "You just met him tonight."

And with that, he clacked his fan in my face and turned back to his groomsmen to yell, "Wooo! More shots!"

"Wooooo!" Came the enthusiastic group response.

I rolled my eyes and followed them through the crowd toward the bar. I checked over my shoulder, curious to see if my admirer was still watching, but I couldn't find him.

Whew, I thought with relief. But, for whatever reason, I gave the crowd another scouring glance before hurrying after the party.

About seven shots and I don't know how many beers later, the dance floor had morphed into more of a state-of-being than a physical place. My vision was blurring so much that it was easier to just close my eyes and feel the bass pumping through me. I had long since started to feel comfortable with myself in this exposed state - most likely the effect of so much alcohol. But I can't deny, the feeling of freedom from my usual body anxiety was exhilarating.

Something about the gay club beats set my hips swaying and my arms flailing. I've never claimed to be a good dancer, but this space was so different from any other club I'd been to that I suddenly felt like I could shamelessly connect with the music. I didn't feel the scrutiny of women trying to find a non-spastic dance partner, nor of men trying to size me up as competition. Everything was just free and open, and I could let loose, smile, and enjoy the club's rhythms with my whole body. I was only vaguely aware that I'd become separated from the bachelor party.

If this is what being gay is like, I thought drunkenly, I can see the appeal.

I was feeling myself so much as Madonna's "Hung Up" shook the roof beams that I didn't even sense the hands glide up my sides from behind. The closeness of the crowd must have numbed me to the closeness of the man sliding up behind me, and I barely noticed when the swaying of my hips became synced with the body pulling in close to my pink-clad ass.

It wasn't until I felt the breath on my neck that I fully realized I had a dance partner. I jumped forward then and turned around to see who it was. It was the bear from way earlier in the night who bought me the beer. He smiled warmly at me and caught my hand before I had a chance to refuse him. With a small tug, he stepped close to me, sliding his other hand over my hip and encouraging me to match his movements.

I hesitated stiffly for a moment before I remembered my deal with Josh to let "Danny" run the show tonight. I warily relaxed and let the bear guide me, and soon he and I were bumping and grinding together, our red and pink speedos oscillating dangerously close.

The sensation was odd.

Whenever I danced with girls, there was a certain feeling of control I could rely on. A certain way that maybe I set the pace, where we danced, how big we danced. I could hold her to me or let her do her thing. But now, this guy was definitely setting the pace for me. He was in control, and I was in new territory.

But his presence was magnetic; it pulled my hips in sync with his. My body rolled when his did. We got close when he drew me in and I stepped back when he pushed on my hip or chest. He even spun me around once and I came back to face him laughing a bit. It was disarming to be led through the steps by him.

"You're a lovely dancer," he called into my ear, leaning in close.

"Thanks," I replied breathlessly, biting my tongue to stifle the urge to say, "But I'm not gay."

"I'm Logan," he said.

"Dan- I mean, Danny!" I replied clumsily.

"Nice to meet you, Danny" His loping Southern accent tickled my ears. I smiled back at him.

"You too."

Not once during this interaction did we stop dancing. Then he grabbed my hand again and spun me halfway, stepping in close and pulling me against his chest and belly. I could feel his hairy torso through the open shirt on my bare back and, for the first time, a hefty package up against my ass. His hands fell to my waist and he continued to guide me through the rhythm and beats.

In my head, I threw my hands up. When in Rome, I guess.

So, I leaned back a little and let Logan wrap his size around me a bit. The hazy effect of the alcohol numbed the nerve endings in my skin, but simultaneously gave me a craving for more touch, so I permitted him to handle my body as we danced. Then when Logan dipped his face low to tentatively nuzzle at the nape of my neck, I unconsciously leaned my head away to give him access. The wiry hairs of his beard crackled and scratched at my skin and I felt goosebumps ripple to life across my body.