I was drenched in sweat.
Andrew and I had been dancing for over an hour -- the room was packed and I'd been "reacquainted" with Andrew's ability on the dance floor -- those years of aerobics had paid off. He was drawing stares with his maneuvers and I was proud of him. I'd almost completely forgotten what had happened earlier that evening...
"You gotta come up and see my room, Eric. It's amazing, " Mark shouted over the blast of the house music.
I looked for Andrew -- to get his attention and have him join us. "Leave John Travolta on the dance floor, Eric," Mark yelled and grabbed my hand, leading me off the dance floor.
"God, what an amazing view from up here, Mark." And it was, the roof of his hotel was stunning -- I'd forgotten how many more stars are visible in the desert sky.
He came out on the roof from his suite with a couple of ice cold beers. His rooftop suite was, as he indicated, pretty impressive. Two bedrooms, a full kitchen and bar -- a private pool on the roof, surrounded by this beautiful terrace and the universe above us.
"Reminds you just how inconsequential we all are, doesn't it?" he asked and handed me the beer. It was quiet up here except for the pumping house music in the disco way down on earth. I knew what was going on.
I knew what was happening -- or just about to happen.
He was as different from Andrew as he could possibly be. He was strong, almost too strong -- demanding, forceful, ordering this and that from me. I resisted and we wrestled till we were slick with each other's sweat. He was lean, this swimmer, but very, very strong. And agile, he pinned me twice and I felt my muscles getting hot under him.
He attacked me with his mouth as he held my arms down. He ground himself into me, there on the roof, the beers untouched, the stars framing his naked chest and stomach. He wanted it like this.
"Why did you wait so long to do this, Mark? You knew you could have this from me - -why did you wait?"
"To make you helpless. To spend you and make you mine. And here you are, just that -- helpless and mine. Aren't you, Eric? Aren't you, Luigi?"
I wasn't proud of my answer, "yes."
And he pushed -- he pushed and I screamed under him. In release, in submission -- I screamed. The house music throbbed under us, the orgy of men spun and danced and rocked under us -- and even though I knew that in that group was the man I had committed my life to -- I screamed in my climax.
"Where were you?" Andrew asked.
"Getting some air," I answered, almost too quickly. But it didn't matter, Andrew was grabbed by some friends and thrown back onto the pulsing, sweaty dance floor to dance the night off.
I couldn't see Mark anywhere-- knowing he'd probably decided to stay upstairs on his terrace and cool off with a nude swim in his pool.
