Coda 05 -Paris a to Z

was beautiful and wild and completely unashamed. So many men wanted him, and although he encouraged their attentions to some extent, he was always in control.
Of course, that night had ended badly, but not because of the dancing. I woke the next morning to find him gone, just a note on the bed to tell me hed be back. And as upset as I was at him for what hed said the night before, underneath it was the growing knowledge that more than anything, I wanted to go back to the club. I wanted to watch him with those men.
The second night at the club had been my idea, and mine alone. Jared and Matt probably assumed that night was Angelos idea, too, but they couldnt have been more wrong.
It wasnt just about seeing him fool around. It had more to do with control. I knew that before me, Angelo had always had to be in charge of his sexual encounters. He was always the one calling the shots. The fact that when he was with me, he handed me the reins and followed without question was part of what made him mine.
So I watched him on the dance floor, and I became more and more aroused as the night went on. I watched him control every encounter he had. And then I dragged him into the mens bathroom, and he let go of that control for me . He let me push him into the stall and bend him over in front of me. He let me do something he would never in his life allow another man to do.
Even now, more than a year and a half later, the thought of that night turned me on more than I could say.
There had been a subtle change between us after that trip. He trusted me more. That heartbeat of panic that I had occasionally seen in his eyes disappeared. And more and more often, he went to bed with me rather

    than sleeping in his own room.
One morning six months later, as I lay in bed watching him dress, I suggested we go to a club again. It was something Id been thinking about a lot, but I was surprised at the hesitation I saw in his eyes.
“Is that what you want?” hed asked.
“It seems like it helped,” I said. The fact that he didnt have to ask what I meant by that seemed like proof that I was right. “If being with other guys once in a while—”
“No!” he said, cutting me off. He climbed onto the bed, straddling me and looking down into my eyes. “You dont get it, Zach. It wasnt dancin with those guys that made me feel better bout us.”
“It wasnt?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was cause you wanted it. It was somethin I could do for you .”
Right or wrong, that only made me want it more. “So you dont want to do it again?” Id asked, trying not to sound disappointed.
He gave me his lopsided smile, and I knew he thought I was being a bit dense. “Ill do whatever you want me to do, Zach,” he said. “But dont think you need to do it for me . Ill never touch another man again, if thats what you ask.”
“And if thats not what I ask?”
His grin grew, becoming a mischievous smile. “Then Ill do that too.”
And now, a year later, we were here because Id finally admitted to him that I wanted to watch him do a lot more with another man than dance.
Angelo ordered a beer, and I sat on the bar stool next to him, waiting. They always came to him. The first one was big, a bear wearing jeans and biker boots and a leather vest with no shirt. Angelo could act tough, but I knew big guys freaked him out. Hed never let a guy like that touch him. The second one was older than me by at least ten years, although not bad looking. That might have worked, but he only wanted to go with us if we went to a motel together. Angelo wouldnt go that far. But as the saying goes, the third ones the charm.

    He was young. I wouldnt even have believed that he was twentyone, except theyd obviously carded him when he came in the door. He had spiky blonde hair, a tattoo peaking out over the collar of his T-shirt, and ripped jeans with a thick chain that hung from his waist and disappeared into his pocket. He looked like a punk, and I smiled to myself. That was exactly what Id thought of Angelo once upon a time too.
Angelo hooked his finger into the kids waistband and pulled him close. The kid already had his hands on Angelo, first on his hips, and then moving up his sides, under his shirt. Angelo didnt respond, just talked in the kids ear, too low for me to hear. But the kid nodded, and Angelo smiled over at me.
“Wheres the back door?” Angelo asked. He wasnt even surprised when I knew the way.
It was warm for late November in Colorado, which was