At one point, he turns around and starts moving his ass in circles against my pelvis. I slide my hand under his shirt while holding my other against his chest, pressing him back against me as he assures me he can do a lot more with that ass than I’ve seen sofar.
I want to spin around and let him take control, to have my ass against his pelvis to demonstrate my own abilities, but I’m not going to risk triggering myselfagain.
Yet the mental wall makes those feelings from earlier rise back within me. I tense up as I try to run from the memories I know I’ll nevershake.
As I brood on my limitations, he spins around and looks at me. I can see by the shift in his expression he can tell something’s changed—that I’m not enjoying myself the way I wasbefore.
He puts his hand on my face and says, “Hey, hey, hey. It’s all good.” He offers a kiss and then another andanother.
Once again, I find myself appreciating how Jesse is able to ground me. He makes me feel like he cares and understands. He’s not pushing to try and figure out why I’m like this. Even though I haven’t discussed the details of why I reacted the way I did, he must know something’s wrong. And he was generous enough to let me know he’s here forme.
It’s amazing how someone who is basically a stranger—aside from the few days we’ve shared together—can have this effect on me. He pays attention to my moods, my feelings, in a way other people justdon’t.
Maybe it’s because of his own issues, because of those things in his past that people don’t ask about, don’t pick up the signals he offers about wanting to talk and share. I feel like most people don’t want to delve deeper or ask those hard questions, which makes life easy because even if something happens, they pretend it didn’t. Jesse isn’t likethat.
As he kisses me, he continues moving his body with mine, trying to pull me back into the music. He must be able to tell I just can’t, because he takes my hand again and whispers into my ear, “We can go to the bar if youwant.”
That isn’t what Iwant.
I want to dance with him some more, but I know my mind iselsewhere.
Enough years, enough times of being haunted by similar feelings have taught me that I can’t shake myself out of these moods no matter how much I may wish to be ableto.
“That would be nice,” I tellhim.
He guides me off the dance floor, back to the bar, where we order another round of drinks. I don’t hesitate to down my Jack andCoke.
Jesse notices how quickly I’m drinking it, but he doesn’t call me out or make a joke or try to shame me for it. He’s here for me…and that feels really fuckingnice.
I start to feel the uneasinessdissolve.
I take deep breaths, working to soothe myself the way I have learned through therapy over the years—not for my real issue, but for generalanxiety.
I’m just coping, gettingby.
Is it great? No. Is it enough? Well, I guess it has tobe.
I feel like the words are on the tip of my tongue, like some part of me wants to blurt the whole truth out to Jesse, so I press my lips together tightly. Like I have to work to keep this secret fromescaping.
It’s just the way I am. I bottle things up. I don’t share. It’s like that moment when I could hardly talk to him aboutCasey.
“Do you want to get back out there and dance?” Jesseasks.
“I can be game if you want to,” I lie, because really, I just want to crawl away somewhere andhide.
He looks me up and down, and goddammit, it feels like he knows, like he can read me so much more than what I show theworld.
“Why don’t we head back to your place?” he says. “I think we’ve had a pretty good date tonight. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can…” He whirls around, his ass facing me as he winks over hisshoulder.
I chuckle before moving at him quickly and wrapping my arm around him. “I think that’s something I could be into,” I say before kissing hisneck.
He rolls his headback.
Here he is, in a gay club, not caring at all about me having my hands all over him, wanting him, kissinghim.
He pushes his ass against my pelvis and arches his back, reaching his arm behind him and pressing his hand against the back of my head. He trails his fingers through my hair. I appreciate the sensation and how he surrenders to me, surrenders his body as if just for my ownsatisfaction.
My dick is rockhard.
