Page 22 of Compulsion

Louis had the grace to blush. “All right, so a lot of it’s gossip, you know how the dancers are. We deal mainly with Angie, who makes the bookings—she was at the club before the Medina Group took it over. You know I’ve always wanted a spot, and the Medina contract pays great money. But when she called me up to offer it, I did think twice. There’s something about the new management that gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

I rolled my eyes at a phrase I hadn’t heard from anyone except Louis since school days. “What sort of thing?”

Louis shrugged. “Nothing really. Just a more aggressive approach to business, I suppose, after the previous owners who—let’s face it—never spent any money on the place at all. But I… well, I did ask Angie and some of the others about the new man.”

“Checking up on me?”

He scowled. “Of course not, you silly arse.”

Not on me, but on Seve. I softened my tone so he wouldn’t think I was really angry. “I told you, it’s okay.”

Louis still didn’t look like he thought it was. “He dates a lot. Plays the field, has plenty of offers. Doesn’t see anyone more than a couple of times. There’s the story about the boy band—”

“Heard it,” I snapped. I wondered if Louis had picked up vibes about Seve fancying him, and just how much of Seve’s playboy image was true.

“I’m just saying, he’s not boyfriend material, Max. Just fucks and leaves.”

And wasn’t that just what Seve accused me of? I could be honest with myself—Louis wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. Except, perhaps, the bit about the “couple of times” dating. Looked like I’d already blown that one out of the water. “I’m not after that, Louis. Hell, a few weeks ago, all the pair of you could talk about was me getting out more. Getting laid. And now you’re recommending I lock myself in my room until Mr. Right—or Mr. Something Better—comes along?”

Louis frowned, his nose wrinkling. “Of course not. You’re deliberately misunderstanding me. I’m just concerned for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, but he couldn’t have missed the sarcasm.

He snorted, his cheeks flushed. “Point taken. I’ll leave you to your obsession.”

And he was right, wasn’t he? Obsession was a fair description. I couldn’t wait for the weekends to come along, so I’d started hanging out at the club during the week as well. I did Comedy Night and Electro-Pop Night and even a Salsa Night. I was greeted with a leery grin at the Girls On Top night, and so far I’d resisted the Come To Daddy Night. But it had been worth it. In all cases, Seve had appeared at the bar within an hour of my arrival.

I didn’t know how to take that. Was he on duty every night, or did he spend all his leisure time there as well? Or were there some other kind of jungle drums that called him whenever I dropped in? I didn’t—couldn’t—believe that.

And after all, did I care? Each time, we’d exchange some empty talk that I could never remember properly afterward, then he’d take me somewhere. It might be out into the yard at the back of the club again, or in his car, or to the silent shell of a bankrupted shop around the back of Churchill Square. Anywhere, just so’s we could fuck. I don’t know how he knew where to go or where he got the keys to some places, but we always found somewhere. We took a B&B room a couple of times, but only to fuck, then leave in the dark. And we only went there in the first place because I complained about my arse being stripped and pounded in the pouring rain one too many times. Maybe he’d taken other men to these places in the past. I wasn’t such an idiot I didn’t consider it—but then he’d act as if a room was unfamiliar after all, and I reckoned I was the first.

It didn’t matter, at least not while I was so high on him. Just like we were both high on the impulse and the risk involved. We weren’t so desperate that we wanted to be caught—it wasn’t that kind of recklessness. But the need for each other was always in our next breath, and we weren’t going to wait for the feather bed to satisfy it. I was always bottom, but that was fine by me. The feel of him inside me, the desire that sprang from him like an electrical charge, the imprint of his hands on my body—it was the best I’d ever known. And we both liked it that way, it seemed.

“Max, are you listening?” Louis’s voice cut in. “It’s just such a change to find you out every night. You’re drinking again. You seem….”

Different, he was going to say.

“…different, somehow.”

“I used to drink and go clubbing. You know that.”

“Yes, but that was before you left Brighton.” Louis shrugged. “When you came back, you were so withdrawn. You said you wanted everything to change. You were angry about it, angry and fri—”

“Hey,” I said softly, like a warning.

Louis paused, realizing my mood. “Okay. You’re an adult now. You can do what you like. It’s not for me to tell you who to see.”

I smiled. “Is that you talking or one of your soap scripts?”

He laughed and we had a friends’ hug. I may have hung on a bit longer than usual. But I was still going out tonight. I was going to find Seve and offer my body for him to use, and it was all I wanted at the moment.

“Max, you won’t leave again, will you? Leave Brighton, I mean.” Louis was a perceptive guy, and his question wasn’t completely ingenuous. “Not without telling us?”

“No,” I said, and I meant it. “I’m fine now. I’m seeing Seve and it’s good, and I know what I’m doing.” I meant that too. Maybe I hadn’t at first, when it had been my physical desire and Seve’s lust that had propelled me on. They were bloody strong instincts that I’d felt inside me all my life. Given in to them, and fought them too, with varying degrees of success. But I wasn’t going to be sucked into a life I couldn’t control. Not again; not in the same way.

“The sex… the lust. It’s heavy stuff, Max.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a grin. I knew that. I’d never had so much before—never felt so alive to it despite the sore arse, the scratches on my back and knees, and the aching limbs. “You jealous?”