Fifty cents for your soul - Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Jared didn’t have many clothes. A couple pairs of black pants, a handful of white tee-shirts and white button-down shirts, a couple pairs of old jeans that were strictly for working outside in the fields or with the animals, and an oversized hoodie or two. He had no idea what was appropriate to wear to a bar, but he didn’t think that anything in his wardrobe was going to be suitable.
Pulling on the jeans that didn’t have any holes in them and a white tee-shirt, Jared padded bare-foot out to the living room. Jeff was sitting in the middle of the sofa watching television, his feet up on the coffee table. Sam was sitting cross-legged in an armchair, a colorful patchwork quilt spread across her lap as she sewed another square onto it.
“Hey,” Jeff greeted him with a smile. “So where are you and Chad off to tonight?”
Sam looked up sharply but didn’t say anything.
Jared cleared his throat. “Uh, a bar, I think.”
“Will you boys be drinking?” Sam asked.
Jared shrugged. “Chad wants to introduce me to the wonders of beer. So I guess so. Don’t worry, though. I’ll only have one.”
Sam’s mouth was a firm line. “You don’t need to have even one if you don’t want to. You should never let anyone talk you into doing something you don’t want to do.”
Jared nodded. “I won’t. I promise,” he turned his gaze to Jeff. “Um, I’m not really sure what’s appropriate to wear to a bar and most of my clothes are really conservative. Are these jeans alright?”
Jeff laughed. “Don’t ask me, kid. When we go out, I just wear what Sam tells me to.”
“Sam?” Jared turned his beseeching eyes to her.
Sam put her quilt to one side and climbed to her feet. “Reckon a nice button down over the top of that tee-shirt would be about right. Wait here.” She disappeared into their bedroom and Jared shuffled anxiously.
“She’s right you know,” Jeff said. “You make sure you don’t let Chad talk you into doing anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.”
“I won’t, Jeff. But I do want to do some of the things that normal young people do. Go to a bar, listen to some music, have a beer. Maybe talk to some nice girls. Jensen said that while I’m out here in the community I should be hanging around with straight, normal, non-hooker people, and he’s right. Father Michael too. I need to know what I’ll really be giving up if I take my vows.”
Jeff licked his lips. “If?” he said.
Jared sat down on the sofa next to Jeff. “That’s what I’m doing here, isn’t it? Figuring out if that’s what God wants for me.”
Jeff rubbed a hand through his hair. “What about what you want for you?”
“Is there a difference?”
Jeff met Jared’s eyes and held them, his smile sad. “I don’t know. I guess it depends what you want.”
Jared chewed on his bottom lip and then asked, “Was it hard? Leaving the Church?”
Jeff tilted his head and appeared to consider the question. “Yes and no,” he rubbed at his stubbled chin. “I’d already started to have doubts. I’d given up my parish and gone to the monastery as a sort of last ditch spiritual retreat. I felt the Catholic Church was crying out for change. Rome didn’t agree,” Jeff shrugged. “Father Michael cornered me one day and told me that my problem wasn’t with God, it was with my path, and that I wasn’t going to find the right path sitting in a monastery. He sent me out here, to a tiny drop-in center that was just getting started. When I saw the center’s name,” Jeff laughed briefly, “Per Vias Rectas, I figured I might’ve found what I was looking for.”
“Per vias rectas,” Jared repeated. “Latin for ‘by right paths’.”
Jeff nodded. “And then I met Sam and the thought of having to leave her and go back into the Church filled me with so much panic that in the end, it was an easy decision. I petitioned for my dispensation and asked her to marry me.”
Jared frowned. “But I thought-”
“She said no. She’d been married before, didn’t enjoy the experience.”
Jared nodded. “Father Michael says you can only really change an organization from the inside. That’s why he stays and fights for progress.”
Jeff shrugged. “That’s his path. This is mine. And it sounds like you’re going to be doing some soul-searching to try to find yours.”
Sam came out of the bedroom with a white-and-pink striped shirt folded over one arm and a pair of Jeff’s white Nikes in her other hand. “Here you go,” she said, handing Jared the shirt. “Slip this on over your tee-shirt.”
Jared did as he was told.
“What shoe size are you?” Sam asked.
“Thirteen,” Jared cringed slightly, embarrassed by his big feet.
Sam’s face fell. “Damn. These won’t fit then. What shoes do you have?”
“A cheap pair of sneakers that I used for farm work and a pair of black slip-ons.”
Sam sighed. “Go the slip-ons. The shirt looks good on you, by the way. It’s one I bought for Jeff that he’s never really liked to wear.”
“It’s pink!” Jeff protested.
Sam rolled her eyes. “You big baby. Nobody’s gonna mistake you for a girl, Honey, not with that beard. All they’re gonna see is a confident man who can wear any color he wants to.”
Jared liked the sound of that. He hoped the shirt would make people think of him as confident too.
-X-
Inside the bar, people were crammed against each other in a way that made Jared struggle to breathe. The press of warm bodies was making him sweat and he was relieved when he and Chad reached the far side of the room, furthest from where the band was playing, and managed to find a small table to sit at.
Chad went to get them a drink and Jared felt awkward the minute the other man left his side. He slouched in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him, the way he’d seen other guys sitting, and he rested one arm on the round table top. After a moment he began drumming his fingers and nodding his head to the beat of the loud music. A hand on his shoulder made him jump. Behind him stood a dark-haired young woman with sultry hazel eyes and big full lips. She was wearing a very short, very tight-fitting black dress and ridiculously high heels. Jared imagined that Nanny would have something uncomplimentary to say about that dress; she wouldn’t have approved of the way the woman’s breasts were almost falling out of it or of the fact that it barely covered her crotch.
“Hi,” the woman said. She gestured at Chad’s empty chair. “Is this seat taken?”
“Uh. Yes. My friend just went to get us some drinks.”
The woman flashed a dimpled smile and sat down. “I’m sure he won’t mind. I’m Sophia.”
“Uh. Jared.”
“Pleased to meet you, Jared. So what do you do for a living? Actor, right?”
“Um. No. I’m a student.”
“Get out? That’s so hot! I’m a model. I’ve done some magazine work and a couple of TV commercials. I did one for Macy’s that you might’ve seen.”
She paused and looked at him expectantly.
“Oh,” said Jared. “I, uh, don’t watch a lot of television. Sorry.”
She chattered about herself for a while, occasional leaning over and touching his arm when his attention seemed to be drifting. Jared did a lot of smiling and vigorous nodding and felt completely out of his depth. When Chad came back with their drinks, Jared’s relief was obvious.
“Well hello, baby,” Chad leered, setting their drinks down on the table and eyeing Sophia appreciatively. “Hey, don’t I know you?”
Sophia flipped her hair. “You’ve probably seen some of my modeling work.”
Chad snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Yes! I saw you in a magazine, didn’t I?”
Sophia nodded eagerly. “Maxim. I was in their swim suit special.”
Chad nodded and then patted Jared on the arm. “Dude, get up. You’re in my seat.”
“No, she’s in your seat.”
Sophia stood up and pulled Chad toward her. “I can sit on your lap,” she purred.
Jared took his first ever sip of beer and decided it was drinkable.
Chad spent the next twenty minutes chatting up Sophia, and casually feeling her up too, which made Jared squirm with embarrassment. To his surprise, when Sophia asked Chad to ditch Jared and go to a ‘hot club’ with her, Chad said no.
“Your loss, baby,” Sophia climbed out of Chad’s lap and sauntered away.
“Dude,” Chad said when she’d gone. “What the hell?”
Jared frowned at him. “What?”
“I was watching you from the bar. She totally hit on you. You were so in. You need to step up your game, man.”
“Oh. She’s, uh. I don’t think she’s my type.”
Chad nodded. “Too slutty, right? You need a girl-next-door type.”
While Jared reddened and attempted to hide his face behind his hands, Chad started pointing out women, rating them on their assets and deficits, as he saw them, and nudging Jared and waggling his eyebrows whenever any of the women looked toward their table.
“Check out that fine specimen!” Chad crowed. “Nice rump, decent tits, awesome bone structure.”
“They’re not cattle,” Jared said from between his fingers. “Seriously, Chad, you’re the type of guy who gives guys a bad name. You’re totally disrespectful to women.”
Chad rolled his eyes. “Easy Padre,” he said. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Anyway, a place like this, it is pretty much a meat market. Don’t think they’re not after the same thing we are.” He looked at Jared, eyes squinting, and then sighed. “But if it’s making you this uncomfortable, how about I go and get us another drink and you look around quietly, see if there’s anyone you’d like to talk to.”
Chad disappeared toward the bar and Jared sat for a while and surreptitiously inspected the women in the room. When he found himself checking out a very nice, very masculine ass for the third time he finished off his beer with a gulp and fixed his eyes on the band.
“So,” Chad banged a glass down in front of Jared, slopping beer over the side and onto the mat. “You figured out your type yet?”
Jared shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he hedged.
“C’mon, man. Tall, short? Blonde, brunette, red head? Big tits? What does it for you?”
Jared drew a deep breath. “Maybe none of them?” he said quietly, meeting Chad’s eyes at the last minute.
Chad raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, none of them? Seriously dude, you must-” he stopped abruptly and stared at Jared. “Oh man,” he said. “You’re into dick, aren’t you?”
Jared shrugged, his face reddening again.
Chad nodded. He stood up, his face suddenly determined. “C’mon. Get up. We’re gonna figure this out once and for all. We’re going to Whiskey and Rye.”
“What about our beers?”
“Screw it. This is an emergency.”
Chad took ahold of Jared’s upper arm and dragged him back across the bar to the door, ignoring Jared’s protests that he didn’t want to go to a strip club.
He was still protesting as they headed down the sidewalk. “Chad, I can’t. Danneel works there!”
“So?”
“She’s my friend! I don’t want to see her take her clothes off!”
Chad rolled his eyes. “It’s not full nudity. Besides, you can just close your eyes when she comes on.”
The line to get in to Whiskey and Rye was half a block long.
“Oh well,” said Jared. “Bad luck. Let’s go somewhere else.”
“Not so fast, Padre,” Chad dragged him to the front of the line and flashed a VIP card at the bouncer, who greeted him by name. The bouncer lifted a gold rope and ushered them inside.
To Jared’s everlasting relief all the tables near the stage were occupied, but they managed to find an empty one at the back of the room, which was really as close to the action as Jared was comfortable getting.
A topless waitress came across to take their drink order and Jared blushed and stared at the floor while Chad organized more beer.
The music coming from the stage stopped and the audience clapped and cheered.
“Alright, alright,” a middle aged man with an impressive gut stepped onto the stage with a microphone. “Settle down, settle down. Coming up next; she teases, she pleases, she also stripteases! With her big brown eyes and her double G bazookas, we have Wild Thing, Bambi Starr.”
The Troggs’ song started up and the crowd cheered.
Chad smacked Jared’s arm. “You can look. It’s not Danneel.”
Jared watched as a woman dressed in a ragged leopard skin dress writhed around on the stage, swung on fake vines, twirled around a pole and occasionally tore off part of her costume. Objectively, Jared knew that she was attractive, but she didn’t turn him on in the slightest.
Next up was Dick Rider, who came out dressed as a fireman. He peeled off his uniform and wiggled his ass to Burning down the House by Talking Heads, while doing some really obscene things with a fire hose that made Jared’s jeans feel several sizes too small.
So that answered that question. Jared closed his eyes briefly and rubbed at his temples. He was attracted to men, not women. This was…not something he would have chosen, but choice didn’t seem to enter into it. He just…he didn’t feel any attraction toward women, no matter how much he wanted to. Jared valued honesty and he wasn’t going to lie to himself. He was very clearly… Jared winced. He couldn’t even think the word without his mind stumbling over it. He took a deep breath. He was gay. Jared closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he half expected to find everyone staring at him; maybe a large, flashing arrow pointing at his head; but no one was paying him any attention. He was gay and the world kept turning. He took a sip of his beer and frowned. The only question left, really, was what he should do about…it. Did he follow the Church’s teachings and refuse to act on his attractions? If so, should he live honestly out in the community, acknowledging that he was same-sex attracted, but taking up his cross and refusing to sin? Or should he go back into the Church, where he would not only be forced into celibacy, but also kept away from temptation? He’d been serious about the priesthood for the last three years. But maybe…maybe God didn’t intend for that to be his path. Jared glanced back at the stage and…Oh my goodness…that was so… wow. He swallowed. If he were honest with himself, Jared wanted to find somebody to love; somebody to snuggle with and kiss; somebody to cook dinner with and to argue with over whose turn it was to take out the trash. And yes, somebody to share God’s most intimate gift to humanity with. The real question then…Jared glanced back up at the stage and almost whimpered at the scene before him… The real question was: Was love something he was brave enough to go after? Because if he did, given Rome’s teaching on homosexuality, it would lose him his Church.
Jared shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Beside him, Chad sighed. “Guess this makes you the perfect wingman,” he said, meeting Jared’s eyes. “Cuz you’re not gonna be stealing my pussy, are you?”
“You’re a charming human being, Chad.”
Chad’s smile was surprisingly genuine. “It’s been said. I think a discovery like this calls for whiskey.” He held his hand up and a well-oiled young man wearing nothing but gold hot pants and a gold bow tie sashayed across with his order pad. Jared tried not to stare at his groin while he took Chad’s order-two shots of Wild Turkey-but he stared unabashedly at his ass when he left.
“Maybe I should get you a lap dance,” Chad mused.
“What?”
“A lap dance. You know, pay one of these guys to sit on your lap and wriggle around.”
“What? No way! Don’t you dare!”
Dick Rider was followed by Melody Cumsalot, who walked like an Eqyptian to The Bangles’ song and finished her performance wearing an almost invisible thong and an elaborate gold headdress. The whiskey shots arrived during her routine and Jared copied Chad when he slammed his back, almost choking on the sharp, burning liquid.
When the man with the microphone announced that everybody’s favorite Mr Roger Boise would be performing next and the man himself danced on stage to the tune of My Sharona, Chad announced that he was going to hit the head. Probably not a bad move on his part, because Mr Boise’s stage name, along with his choice of song had Jared squirming, and not in a good way. He let his attention drift to the dancers who were working their way through the crowd, chatting to customers and performing the occasional lap dance. The thought of someone grinding against him like that in public was like ice water being tipped down his spine. The thought of Jensen doing it to him in private had him hard in record time. Jared put his head in his hands and wondered if he would’ve been better off if he’d just stayed in the monastery and never figured out the truth about himself.
-X-
Jensen’s every-other-Wednesday regular wasn’t his least favorite, but he couldn’t honestly say that he enjoyed their dates very much.
Rick was the CFO at a blue chip company, and his wife thought he played poker twice a month to unwind from the stress of his job. Of course, he was actually playing poke Jensen, and if the wife had noticed that her husband always lost exactly three hundred bucks, she hadn’t mentioned it.
Rick liked Jensen to meet him in the bar of the Redbury Hotel on Vine St, and he liked Jensen to dress like a twinky little slut. His company had a suite permanently reserved at the hotel and the staff never complained when Rick picked up the key and took Jensen upstairs. Nor did they ever give Jensen dirty looks when he came down by himself an hour later and asked them to book him a cab back to the seedy part of town. Jensen respected their professionalism.
With Rick, Jensen was required to act like an eager cock slut; to rub up against him, to nibble at his neck and tongue fuck him, to suck his dick with enthusiasm, and to generally pant over him as if Rick were the hottest thing he had ever seen. He liked Jensen to beg to be fucked, using the kind of cheesy porn dialog that Jensen would never in a million years use with a real lover. It always made him feel really silly and sometimes he had trouble keeping a straight face.
Finally, when he thought Jensen had begged enough, Rick liked to throw him down on his stomach and fuck him hard and fast and dirty. The sex was always rougher than Jensen really liked it, but he usually managed to come. At least Rick didn’t expect him to manage anything more vocal than ‘oh yeah, oh God’ while he was being fucked, so he could mostly just relax during that part and plan out the rest of his evening.
When they finished, Jensen showered, then took his three hundred dollar fee, plus his cab fare, stroked Rick’s ego a bit more and secured a booking for the Wednesday after next, and then left.
Chris was out on a date when Jensen got back to their regular beat, so he went and got himself a coffee from the donut shop. The Salvation Army coffee van was parked right across from it, but Jensen didn’t use those. For a start, he could afford to buy his own coffee-his earnings last year from dates and modeling combined had been $76,000.00 , for fuck’s sake. It didn’t all go through the books, but a sizeable portion of it had to, to justify his savings. Jensen lived frugally. His current lifestyle was a means to an end and nothing more. He had no interest in getting comfortable or settled in it. The vast portion of his earnings went into his savings account and the last thing he wanted to do was wave a red flag at the IRS by saving more money in a year than he’d officially earned. Jensen knew that intensive scrutiny of his finances would reveal the illicit nature of his income, so self-employed model Jensen Ackles did a lot of jobs for cash, but owned up to a very respectable income in order to fly under the radar and avoid suspicion. He probably paid more tax in a year than any of the do-gooders running the coffee vans even earned. So yeah, he could afford to buy his own damn coffee. He wasn’t some hard luck story. He didn’t need rescuing or saving or to find Jesus or whatever shit the do-gooders undoubtedly handed out along with the coffee.
Long black, double shot in hand, Jensen sauntered back to the beat and waited for Chris in the shadows. He liked to pull in at least $400.00 a night and he’d already earned that tonight, so he was shutting up shop, so to speak, and calling it a night. He was hoping that Chris would be up for going out for a drink.
Jensen dug his cigarettes out of the pocket of his leather jacket and lit up. He wondered how Jared was doing, whether he was having fun. Whether he was drunk yet. And Jared being out there somewhere in no way had anything to do with his sudden desire to go out for a drink. Jensen certainly wasn’t hoping to run into him. That was the last thing he wanted. Jensen hoped like hell that Jared wouldn’t waste his life hidden away inside an archaic, dying institution like the Catholic Church; he was too spirited for that, too full of love and life to be confined by the restrictions of such an existence. He hoped that the kid found a nice girl to marry, someone respectable he could take home to Mom and Dad. Hanging out with Jensen was the last thing Jared needed.
Chris turned up at half past eleven, looking pissed.
“You okay, man?” Jensen asked warily.
“Closet case,” Chris said. “Said he wanted me to fuck him. Changed his mind when we got to the hotel and said he wanted to fuck me. I said no - it ain’t been long enough since Donkey Dick - and he got pissed. Said some shit,” Chris shook his head. “I blew him instead, but that ain’t the point. The date was supposed to be a better earner than that.”
Jensen clapped him on the back. “I can’t be assed going back out. What d’ya say we go for a drink? Danni’s shift ends at midnight. We can go and pick up her and Steve, then go down to The Hole in the Wall for a few drinks, a few games of pool. What d’ya say?”
Chris agreed enthusiastically. Jensen didn’t even have to be persuasive.
-X-
Clif, the 6ft6 staff security officer, let them in the employee entrance with a good-natured grin and a one armed hug. Chris had once drunk the big guy under the table and lost him a fifty dollar bet, and he’d approved wholeheartedly of Chris ever since. The back stage area of Whiskey and Rye smelled like hairspray, fake tan, cigarette smoke and sweat, and the combined scent was one that Jensen found both exotic and comforting. Chris muttered something about needing to use the restroom and Jensen went in search of Danneel.
There were two large dressing rooms in the club. In theory one of them was for the men and one was for the women, but all the dancers used both of them interchangeably. Jensen poked his head into the left side dressing room and found Scott standing in nothing but a jock strap, winding up his fire hose.
“Aw, man,” said Jensen. “Did I miss the fireman routine? I love that routine. Especially that thing you do with the fire hose,” he clutched at his chest dramatically. “It makes me all tingly inside.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “I’ll do you with the fire hose,” he threatened.
Jensen batted his eyelashes. “Promises, promises.”
When Scott had first joined the team, Danneel tried to set him up with Jensen, and had been mortified when he’d explained that not only was he straight, he was married. Jensen and Scott got on well though, despite their awkward introduction, and they made a point of flirting shamelessly (and harmlessly) with each other whenever they met up.
“Jay!” Danneel’s squeal was piercing and Jensen turned just in time to get an armful of combat-boot-wearing fairy princess.
“Hey Beautiful,” he said. “Are you done for the night?”
Danni shook her head. “Got the Fairy routine in about five minutes, then I’m done.”
Jensen nodded. “Was thinking that after you and Steve finish up we could go out to The Hole for a few drinks,” he looked over at Scott. “You’re welcome to join us too if you’d like.”
Scott was pulling on a safari suit and he looked up when Jensen spoke and shook his head. “Thanks, but I got a hot woman waiting in bed for me.”
“Lucky woman,” Jensen said with a wink.
“Two minutes, Danni! Get your ass to the stage door!”
Danneel pulled a face. “Gotta go. You gonna go out and watch me?”
“Sure,” Jensen gave her a quick hug and then pushed her toward the wings.
He strode down the passageway and knocked on the restroom door. “You just about done, Chris? Danni’s goin’ on now. I wanna go out and watch.”
Chris appeared a moment later looking pissed again.
Jensen frowned. “What’s goin’ on? You really okay?”
“Yeah. I’m outta gum is all and I can’t get the latex taste outta my mouth. Nothing a shot of whiskey won’t fix.”
They walked out into the noisy, crowded club and Chris clapped Jensen on the shoulder and said that he was going to go and hit Steve up for free drinks, what did he want? Jensen wasn’t listening, though. He’d just spotted Jared sitting alone at a table at the back of the club.
“What the fuck?” he said.
“Huh?” Chris followed his gaze. “What?”
“See the guy at that table over there?” Jensen pointed. “That’s Jared.”
“The altar boy you’re crushing on?”
Jensen glared at him and Chris looked sheepish. “What’s the problem? Just go talk to him.”
Jensen shook his head. “He was supposed to be going out for a nice, normal night out. Not to a strip club, for fuck’s sake.”
The sound of throat clearing attracted Jensen’s attention and he turned to find Chad standing behind him. “Yeah, that may be my fault,” said Chad.
“You brought him to a strip club?” Jensen’s voice was scathing, “That’s your idea of normal?”
Chad shrugged. “I come here all the time. To be fair, we started out at a regular bar. We only came here to figure out once and for all whether your Padre over there is attracted to tits or dick or both.”
Chris was examining Chad as if he were a particularly fascinating species of bug. “He figure it out yet?” he asked.
Fairies Wear Boots by Black Sabbath blasted out of the loud speakers and Jensen watched as Jared abruptly looked horrified and covered his face with his hands.
“Oh yeah,” said Chad, “I was supposed to warn him when Danneel went on stage so that he could make sure he didn’t look.”
Jensen looked confused and Chad shrugged. “Something about not wanting to see his friend naked.”
Chris whacked Jensen on the arm. “You should go and tell him that Danni’ll be offended if he doesn’t watch her dance.”
“Yeah,” Jensen nodded, his eyes fixed on Jared. “I’ll do that,” he turned to Chris and said, “Get me a shot of Jack,” before heading off into the crowd.
Chris fixed his gaze on Chad. “So,” he said, “our man over there? What was the verdict? Dick or tits?”
Chad smirked. “Yawned his way through Bambi Starr and boned up during Dick Rider. So you tell me?”
-X-
Heavy metal blared over the speakers and Jared winced. A slutty-looking fairy danced on stage, her ragged pink tulle skirt and jagged sparkling wings a jarring juxtaposition to the flat black lace-up boots on her feet. Jared’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. And then…Oh my goodness. Was that…? It was. Crap. Jared buried his face in his hands. It was Danneel.
He’d been sitting like that for several minutes, aware that he probably looked stupid to everyone watching, when a gentle hand touched his shoulder. “Hey Jare?”
Jared knew that voice, and his initial reaction to hearing it here, now, was to flee. He felt stupidly, perversely guilty for having been caught by Jensen in a strip club, and hot on the heels of that he felt angry about his instinctive reaction, because Jensen was a hooker; he certainly couldn’t claim any moral high ground.
“Look at me, Jare.”
Against his better judgment, Jared looked up. Jensen was wearing eyeliner. And tight, ripped jeans. And a leather jacket. He looked all kinds of hot and if Jared hadn’t been sure about his orientation before, he was now. The kindness and understanding in Jensen’s eyes just about gutted him.
“Danni’s goin’ be real upset if you don’t watch her performance.” Jensen moved to sit down in Chad’s chair and Jared tracked his movement. “It’s an awesome routine. And don’t worry, she doesn’t get completely naked.”
Jared glanced up at the stage. Danneel was whizzing around and around at the very top of the stripper pole, one arm and one leg sticking out in a way that made it look like she was really flying.
“How’s your evening been?” Jensen asked.
Jared shrugged. “It’s…I’m,” he shook his head. “I should probably go home.”
“Why?”
Jensen’s expression was warm and caring and it grounded Jared, freed him to say, “Because I think I want to do…things. Things that I’ve been taught are wrong. And I’m so scared, because…if I…if I act on…these feelings, then I lose…everything.”
Jensen scooted his chair closer to Jared’s and put his hand up on the table, his fingertips resting close to Jared’s arm, almost, but not quite, touching.
“Can you talk to me about it?” his voice was so soft, so calm. It was almost hypnotic. “What are you feeling?”
Jared sighed. “There was this girl. And she had this leopard skin outfit on and she…she danced. And. Chad. Chad was catcalling and whistling and. Nothing,” he shook his head. “I didn’t feel anything. Then there was this fireman. And he had this hose,” Jared’s voice caught in his throat.
“And you liked it?”
Jared nodded, his face etched with misery. “I did more than like it. I,” he glanced down at his groin.
Jensen nodded in understanding. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve seen Scott’s routine twenty or thirty times and I sprout wood every time. There’s this one part, where he puts the hose between his legs and-” Jensen’s words drifted off as he noticed Jared’s look of utter horror. “Jare?”
Jared squeezed his eyes shut and then dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders heaving.
Jensen scooted his chair even closer, so that his knee was pressed against Jared’s thigh. “Alright, here’s the thing. You look like you could do with a hug, but I don’t wanna trigger some internalized homophobic panic and cop a fist to the face for my troubles.”
Jared blinked against his palms. Jensen thought he might hit him? “I would never hit you.”
“So I can…?” Jared could feel Jensen’s arm hovering behind his back and he nodded.
Jensen’s arm was heavy and solid and comfortable. It made Jared feel safe; protected.
“I was thirteen,” Jensen said, “when I figured out I was gay,” he snorted. “You should’ve seen me Jare, I was so fuckin’ pretty. Prettier than all the girls up at the high school put together,” he snorted again and Jared got the feeling he’d been quoting someone. “Luke was a high school senior,” Jensen continued, “and the assistant coach of my baseball team. He was a gay boy’s wet dream; tall, muscled, one hell of an ass. He caught me lookin’ at him one time too many and cornered me in the locker room after practice. Everyone else had gone home, was just me and him and I was so scared, cuz, ya know, this was Texas. He told me I was pretty. Said he was gonna give me what I’d been askin’ for. And he shoved his hand down my pants and jerked me off. After that, we messed around every week. There wasn’t anything more to it than that, it was just sex. But my mom, she was sick. And I guess I needed something. Something that felt good. You know?”
Jared’s hands had fallen away from his face while Jensen was speaking and he turned now to look at the older man.
“You were just a kid, though,” he said. “He shouldn’t’ve done that.”
Jensen shrugged. “He didn’t hurt me,” he tilted his head to one side. “He didn’t love me. Don’t think he even liked me very much, but he always made it good.”
Jared nodded. “So how did it end?”
“He went to college. I never saw or heard from him again.”
“What did your parents say? When you told them you were, you know?”
Jensen’s smile was tight and didn’t reach his eyes. “I ran away to Hollywood to become a hooker at the age of fifteen. That doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about that?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Believe it or not, I like my life. And I like who I am. And you,” Jensen nudged Jared with his knee, “you’re a grown-ass, independent man who’s just figured out he prefers Dick Rider to Melody Cumsalot. Anyone who doesn’t respect that can go fuck themselves.”
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