“All right fellas,” Bella addressed the milling crowd on the dance floor. “Who can tell me what’s next?”
Several guys shouted unintelligibly.
“That’s right,” Bella said. “Skivvies! The New Year’s tradition here at the Copa is that the last thirty minutes of dancing is “skivvies only.”
Bella gave a wry smile. “As if you boys need a head start on getting naked!”
Laughter.
Matt and Adam exchanged nervous glances.
“Listen up,” Bella said. “There are a few rules.”
“#1: Skivvies and shoes are the only clothes allowed on the dance floor. Anyone who doesn’t want to participate, please clear the floor.”
“#2: Staff is handing out paper sacks as I speak. Strip down and put yourclothes in a sack.”
“#3: Staff are also carrying sharpies and staplers. Write your name on your sack, staple it closed—the paper one, fellas, not the one between your legs, and hand it back to the staff member. What’s Bella’s rule?”
“MARK YOUR PROPERTY!” the crowd roared.
“That’s right,” Bella said. “Mark your property. And if you’re worried about someone stealing your dance partner, mark him too!”
Laughter.
“Back to the rules,” Bella said.
“#4: This is a respectable establishment—until midnight at least. No nudity. If I see a single groundhog peeking out of its burrow, its owner is gonna have a lot more to worry about than six more weeks of winter!”
Loud groans.
“#5: Last one. You have 5 minutes to strip down. The music starts again at 11:30 sharp. Anyone on the dance floor wearing anything more than skivvies and shoes after that point, will be shown the door.”
Adam grinned at Matt. “I’m not ready to stop dancing. Are you?”
Matt shook his head. He could not contain his glee at the chance to see Adam in his skivvies!
They hurriedly stripped, stuffed their clothes in the sacks, marked the bags, and stapled them shut.
Matt’s chest tightened with ache at sight of Adam in his white Jockeys and Nikes.
His nipples were small and pink. His chest and torso were bare except for a small treasure trail that snaked from his belly button down into his briefs, thickening as it went. His legs were the definition of perfection! Downy, brown hair against a pale canvas.
Before Matt handed the sharpie back to the staffer, he wrote his initials on a patch of freckled skin above Adam’s left nipple.
“Your heart is mine tonight,” Matt said.
Adam’s eyes shimmered. He placed his palm on Matt’s left pec. “Ditto,” he said.
The music started. Matt didn’t recognize the song, but other people began dancing.
Adam held Matt’s gaze. “Do me a favor?” he asked. His voice was soft.
“Sure?”
“Dance only for me. Quit worrying about what anyone thinks or how you look. Dance for me.”
Matt nodded, swallowed air.
