The Trainer Pt. 01

He held his suspicious glare for a moment longer and then burst out laughing. "You should see your face! Of course I'm gay. I mean, don't tell my mother, but I am. No, I'm kidding, my momma knows, but don't ever mention it to my dad."

Amy had lost track of what was a joke and what wasn't, but clearly his upset about her question had been fake. She giggled with relief. "Oh my god, I thought you were seriously upset."

"Nah. I know I'm pretty obvious and I wouldn't have it any other way, but you know that you're the first person I've talked to about it outside my gay friends?"

"Are you serious?" Amy had gotten the impression it wasn't something people talked about often, but how it could just go unmentioned for the duration of someone's whole life up to now was beyond her.

He nodded, more serious now. "You'd be surprised at the lengths people go to pretend they have no idea. At work it's just never mentioned; I'm assumed single and that is that. But my own father still asks me when I'm going to bring home a girlfriend, even though he knows. Maybe it's a bad case of selective amnesia." He laughed but there was less enthusiasm in it.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea. That's terrible."

"That's the Caribbean for you. And black culture in other places too, I hear." He shrugged, as if to say it didn't matter. He continued: "You probably want to be a bit careful who you say stuff like this to, though. Most guys here would still deny it if they were caught with their pants down in another guy's car."

"I wouldn't say anything. I'm sorry. I just thought with you... Because we're friends..." Amy stammered. She realised he was right. She'd been insensitive. She had put him on the spot and he had reacted remarkably well; much better than could have been expected.

"Yeah, it's fine with me. I'm one of the few guys on the island who is open about it, though. I catch a lot of flak for it. Even from guys I hook up with. They pass me in the street and ignore me or, if they're really struggling with themselves, call me a fag. But I also know deep down that young gay boys will look at me and get some encouragement. Or that's what I tell myself anyway. If I'd had someone like me to look up to when I was a boy, I would have come to terms with myself a lot quicker.

"Wow, I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like." Amy realised how sheltered her life really was in comparison; how smooth her coming out and her life as a white gay woman in a reasonably progressive society.

"So, I'm a bit of a well-known figure in the gay community, but I still have to live in the wider community too, you know? I have to pick my battles. I can't be too outspoken and obvious all the time. I still need to work with people, be able to shop for groceries, rely on local services when I need them. So when people assume I'm single at work, or ask me when I'm going to find a nice girl, I smile politely and let them think what they want. Maybe one day I'll show up at a work do or at my father's house with a hot stud in tow..." There was a bitter edge to his laugh this time.

"Do you have someone then? Someone you'd like to bring home, or bring to work-dos?"

"Are you kidding? There are too many beautiful men around to tie myself down to one person! Boats and flights full of tourists every single day... You have to take advantage of that!"

Amy laughed with him. Happy and single then; at least, sort of.

"Now, the more interesting question is: why are you looking for a gay bar?" Lucas gave her a scrutinising look. "Are you a little lezzo?"

"Guilty as charged."

"Shut the door... I had no idea!" He mumbled to himself: "How did I miss that?" Then he turned to her and said: "But where are your hiking boots? You're so... fashionable. I mean, look at you, you're in heels. You're wearing make-up!"

Amy laughed. "Only a little... But erm, thanks, I guess."

She wasn't a lipstick lesbian, not by a long shot, but she did pride herself on having at least some sense of fashion and taking care of her appearance. She couldn't complain about her looks in general, although she often wished there was just something that really stood out about her. She was cute, but in a very 'girl next door' kind of way. She was of average height and average built, with shoulder-length brown hair and hazel eyes. People told her she had nice legs though. And one effect of the sun was that her freckles had come up in full force. They now covered her cheeks and nose, which Amy thought was at least something not everyone else had.

Lucas appraised her again and nodded with a serious expression. "Definitely the best-dressed lesbian I've ever met."

"You've met others then?" Amy teased, "They're around on the island?"

"Oh yes. I know a few. Obviously not my area of expertise but they are real. You looking for l-o-o-o-v-e?" He dragged out the last word and made it into a caricature.

"Definitely not. But I figured there's nothing wrong with checking out the scene."

"I see, looking for a bit of fun. Trying to channel you inner gay boy and be footloose and fancy free. It doesn't work for you lesbians. You always end up shacking up and getting a cat."

"Oh stop it. Who made you the expert on lesbianism?" Amy teased, realising how much she'd missed gay banter. She was so pleased she'd finally found a gay buddy, or rather, that they'd finally acknowledged each other as such. "Do you know a gay bar or not?"

"Hmmm, there aren't any exclusively gay bars. That would never work here. But there are places gays are more likely to congregate. I could tell you for the guys but I'd have to find out where the lezzos hang. We don't mix much usually. Maybe they hang out at the hardware store?" He said with a laugh.

Amy laughed. Quite likely. "My friend lived here for a while a few years ago. She told me about a place called Bordeau..."

"Ah yes, I remember that place. A friend of mine used to go there. Proper dyke bar, that. At least it started off that way. They wouldn't even let guys in. But the straight girls liked it too. They figured they could have their girls' nights without being hit on constantly. And if they did get hit on by an unsuspecting lesbian, they'd give her sass. They started crowding the place. So the lesbians stopped coming. And then they let the guys back in and it turned into a regular bar. But it's closed now. It's been closed for years."

"Yeah, it wasn't where my friend said it was anymore."

"Nope, there's no lesbian bar that I know of. But there are gay nights that are organised every now and then. They don't happen often, every few months or so, but they're chill. You can have a drink, dance, whatever you want. Hang on..." He took out his phone and tapped the screen for a brief while. "You're in luck. There's one this Friday at The Royal Inn hotel. Do you know where that is?"

Amy shook her head but she was certain she could find out. Going to a gay night was a surprisingly thrilling prospect.

"Then you're coming with me. Allow me to initiate you into the weird and wonderful double-edged sword that is our gay community. It would be my honour. You'll be my very own debutante."

"As long as I get to decide what I wear," Amy chuckled.

He pouted. "Aw, spoilsport! But you don't seem completely clueless at least."

* * * * *

Amy had to admit, Lucas played his role as escort very well, pointing out the who is who of the local gay community and introducing her to some of his friends; all either male or straight. He also told her all about The Royal Inn hotel, which was an adult-only hotel and marketed as the gay-friendly place to go for tourists and locals alike. It was usually teeming with gay tourists, again mostly male, even though it was on the pricey end of the spectrum. Amy could certainly see that in the prices she was paying for her rum and cokes. Lucas gave her a knowing look.

"Yeah, definitely tourist prices. But it's worth it, isn't it?"

It certainly was. The hotel lobby was open from all sides and its flowing white curtains were tied down to stop them from moving too much in the nightly breeze that kept the dancing crowd somewhat cool. There was plenty of space to have a drink and chat at the bar, to lounge in one of the many sofas, or to dance everywhere in between.

The music was a mix of electronic dance music and the Latin and Caribbean music that could be heard anywhere you went on the island. Even though it wasn't even 9 pm, people were dancing everywhere. If Amy had learned anything in her time here, it was that people here loved to dance, and they were good at it. Amy was slowly working up her courage to join the moving masses, of course helped along by her rum and coke. For now, she was content to just watch. There was plenty that was great to look at.

Lucas was directing his booming laugh at the Nordic looking blond guy who was standing close to him. He was tall, even taller than Lucas, but his face showed that he was young. He was making a point of touching Lucas's biceps every now and then, clearly impressed by their bulging form in the skin-tight sleeveless shirt Lucas had opted to wear. Along with his white Levi's, it formed quite the contrast with his usual business attire, but it suited him equally well.

"I'm going to show Eric here around a bit. He wants to see the infinity pool," Lucas announced. One look at Eric's face told Amy he wanted to see a lot more than the infinity pool. "Are you going to be alright?" Lucas asked.

Amy certainly wasn't going to stand in the way of whatever these boys had planned, not that she wanted to know. "I'll be fine. Go have fun!"

Lucas looked her up and down, while Amy watched his face with amusement. Earlier he had told her that her outfit "wasn't dreadful". Amy thought she'd done really well, considering the fact that she'd only brought a limited wardrobe. She was wearing a black skirt that reached to just above her knees and had an intricate pattern of overlapping layers. It was one of her favourites. She'd paired this off with a simple blue spaghetti strap top, which she'd been told made her eyes pop. Anticipating the dancing, she was wearing her Converse, which Lucas had looked at disapprovingly. She had scored points by wearing her hair down, though. Lucas had only ever seen it tied up and told her she needed to wear it down more often.

"Yeah, you'll be fine," he concluded. "But go have some fun too. Dance. Go kiss a girl, or cuddle a cat or whatever it is you lezzos do."

"I will," she promised with a smile, as she kissed his cheek and said goodbye.

She downed the last of her rum and coke and told herself it was time. She found a good spot at the periphery of the action: it was enough in the throng of things not to be the only one moving, but far enough from the DJ not to be the centre of attention. She started moving a bit self-consciously but got into her groove after a while. When she realised no one knew her here, she truly threw her inhibitions overboard and started to move her whole body to the music.

It was as her arms swung over her head along with the beat that she caught the eye of someone watching her from across the room with an amused grin. When their eyes met, the girl came over instantly. This one was not shy, that much was certain. Amy watched her saunter over. She didn't quite roll her hips with her steps, but there was something that happened with them naturally that was mesmerising.

She looked roughly the same age as Amy and was wearing black skinny jeans and Converse sneakers like Amy's. A simple white t-shirt with a V-neck was paired off with a black waistcoat and a black trilby, giving her the overall appearance of a jazz musician. When she came closer, Amy could see that her skin was light-brown, yet the tight curls that escaped from underneath the rim of her hat were very light, blonde in fact, and her eyes were a pale grey. It was a highly unusual but beguiling combination. She was the type of girl that killed conversations and turned heads when she walked into a room; the type of girl you either wanted to be or be with. Or both, in Amy's case. Her head would have turned if the girl hadn't been heading straight for her. Upon reaching her, the girl flashed a dazzling white smile, which drew Amy's eyes to her full lips like magnets.

"I did wonder if those hips had a bit more in them," the girl said, leaning in to speak in Amy's ear over the music.

"Excuse me?" was all Amy could think to reply. What kind of opening line was that?

Another dazzling smile. "You're new, aren't you? On the island, I mean?" When Amy nodded, she added: "You need to loosen up a little, feel the music."

Amy wasn't sure if she should be offended. She'd thought she'd been doing reasonably well, at least for the last little while. How long had this girl been watching her? Determined to show that she was feeling the music alright, Amy continued dancing - putting perhaps a bit more effort into it - while she tried not to be distracted by the girl's gaze.

"Much better," the girl shouted over the music, as she started moving in front of Amy. Amy had to admit the girl could dance. There was something so natural about the way her body moved to the music. It was effortless. Each of her limbs just seemed to know exactly what to do and moved independently, yet remained an intricate part of a well-coordinated whole that looked sensual and energetic at the same time.

The music changed from the easy dance music beat to one of the more complex Latin rhythms. Amy, whose dancing was definitely as much of a thought process as a physical one, lost her beat, drawing an amused smile from the jazz girl. As she struggled to get to grips with the new beat, she felt the girl's hands on her hips, guiding her into a weaving rhythmic motion that matched the music perfectly.

"Like this," she said with a smile that was encouraging rather than patronising.

At every move of her hips, Amy felt herself getting more comfortable with the motions and with the warm sensation of the girl's hands on her hips. With her increased confidence, her movements became bigger and so did the girl's smile.

Thinking she was nailing it, Amy looked around cockily. Everyone else seemed to be locked into couples, which were spinning each other around in complicated patterns, the likes of which Amy had only seen on those cheesy dance programs on TV. How did they all make it look so effortless and so incredibly professional? Was everyone a natural dancer here? Suddenly, her own moves felt clumsy again. She was a stomping elephant in a sea of prancing gazelles.

Her face must have shown her despair, because the girl leaned in and said: "Salsa is surprisingly easy to make look good. Follow me."

She pulled Amy closer and tightened her grip on her hips. Waiting for the right beat, she stepped her left foot forward and guided Amy in stepping her right foot back. This was followed by bringing their feet together and doing the opposite. They repeated that a few times to the beat and Amy got quite good at stepping in tune with the other girl.

"That's basically it. That's a basic salsa step. Now put your hips into it. Shift your weight." The girl made her hip movement more pronounced, sticking her butt out when her feet came back together. It immediately looked a lot more like a dance rather than a step. Amy followed suit, albeit a bit more clumsily.

"You got it. And then you can just do variations on that. Roll with me." She held out her hand and Amy took it. The girl moved her other arm around Amy's back and indicated that Amy should hold on to her upper arm.

They started to repeat their steps and Amy felt herself being more strongly guided. She started to step sideways, which Amy followed after a small hesitation. They switched back to front and back, making their movements bigger and more pronounced every time. Then there was a mischievous grin before the girl flung her away from her and she was spinning under her arm. Before she could fully grasp what had happened, she was back in the girl's arms and they were stepping again. The next time she felt the spin coming and she was a bit more coordinated.

This is really fun, she thought. She'd never danced with a partner, as such. She had danced close to another person, and had moved against another person in a drunken passionate matter, but nothing like this... this actual dancing. The girl seemed to have an endless array of variations on the step that was 'basically it'. One moment Amy was flung away from her, facing the crowd, another she was spinning, another she was moving close to the other girl's body, feeling her hips move against her own.

The music changed again and Amy found that their salsa smoothly changed into something else. The girl hadn't let go of her but she had altered her steps. Amy tried to follow. The steps weren't that complicated but the girl had certainly pulled her in closer and there seemed to be more focus on rolling their bodies in tune and less on flamboyant, showy spins and arm movements. It was making Amy feel a little giddy to be in such close physical contact with a complete stranger. And someone this hot, for that matter. Every time her eyes met those pale grey ones and she saw that full-lipped smile widen, her heart made a little skip.

They weren't the only ones who had pulled in closer together, though. The people around them seemed even closer. In fact they were completely glued to each other. When the girl saw Amy looking at them, she smiled apologetically and said in Amy's ear: "That's how we dance bachata here. May I?"

Encouraged by her newfound dancing confidence and her giddiness at the jazz girl's attention, she nodded. Before her nod had ended, the girl had moved her hand to the small of her back and pulled Amy against her body. He leg had somehow ended up between Amy's and Amy's between hers. They were intertwined and somehow still had to make those steps work. That appeared to be perfectly doable, once Amy accepted that it meant full body contact with the other girl. And full body in this case truly meant full body: her breasts grazed the other girl's chest, their thighs touched and ground together, the girl's curls tickled the side of Amy's face as they were locked in their embrace. The music played, they swayed, and the world around them disappeared.

Amy had no idea how long they had danced for when she felt a strange vibration in her hip. Is this muscle fatigue?, her distracted brain questioned. The other girl's brain seemed a bit more functional. Her hand disappeared between their bodies and reappeared holding a buzzing phone. She glanced at the screen and tapped it to make the buzzing stop.

"Shit," she said. "I have to go." She quickly untangled herself from Amy's limbs and stuffed her phone back into her pocket.

"Oh, okay," was all Amy could say, before the girl leaned in one last time to say, "Thanks for the dance." Then she was gone and the empty space she left behind was quickly filled with other dancing people.

* * * * *

"... and then she just left."

"What do you mean, she just left?" Lucas stared at Amy in disbelief. "After all that passion? That's it? What did you do?"

"Nothing. She got a phone call, I think. It must have been important."

Lucas tutted. "I would have told whoever that was on the phone to get lost. You lezzos are weird!"

Amy laughed. "Yeah, well, that was it anyway. I have no idea who she is. I don't even know her name. So I'll probably never see her again." She had described the girl to Lucas but he didn't know who she was. If she was a local lesbian, he had claimed, he'd probably come across her, but someone with 'such an angelic appearance' didn't ring a bell. She was probably a tourist, Lucas had concluded.

"But you never know... She could be new in town, like you. Or she could be straight. There are a lot of straight girls who come to these nights too. Some want to be a bit gay just for a night."