Part 1: Dance Floor Moves
Davy wormed his way through the crowd towards the bar. I was wondering why I'd come, because this place always pissed me off. Not only was it suffocatingly warm, but the guys who came to it were mostly the loud, overtly hedonist kind of gay males that really turned me off. I stood there trying to avoid looking at anyone, when the glass I was holding was almost knocked from my hand.
I turned to swear at what I had already decided would be some stupid gesticulating half drunk teenager, but the first syllable was just out of my mouth when I recognised the face of the guy standing bedside me.
"Oh hello Andre. Sorry, was I waving my arms around too much again?"
I struggled to remember his name, but I seemed to remember him vaguely from a party I'd been to with Davy a few months earlier. A particularly drunken party when a game of 'I dare you' with him had gotten unprecedentedly out of hand and I'd ended up spending 2 hours in my underwear with my clothes locked in his car. Davy had always had a way of knowing just how to push my buttons and although we'd never been lovers, he'd had me out of my clothes more times than I cared to admit. Up to this one particular night it had always been in private though, or at least somewhere there was – as far as I knew - no one else around to see. Fortunately the guys at the party had all been his friends and I hadn't seen any of them since. Until now.
"I almost didn't recognise you with your clothes on," he continued, smiling at his own joke. I laughed weakly, with a mixture of irritation, doubt and that mild sense of erotic embarrassment I always get when I'm called out on my secret longing to lose my clothes around other guys.
"Sorry it's... I... sorry I don't remember your name" I stammered.
"Peter, and this is Javier" he said, clapping the slight dark haired latin looking guy beside him on the shoulder. I half remembered having been introduced to them, but that particular night was a bit of a blur.
Davy had figured out early in our friendship that I was letting him catch me just coming out of the shower when he called round a few too many times for it to be coincidence. I'd been thoroughly convinced I was being very subtle, answering the door in just a towel, or needing to 'take a quick shower' when he called around. I'd leave the bedroom door ajar as I undressed knowing full well he could see me in the mirror on the closet door I had so carefully angled beforehand. Then one night he asked me flat out if I got off on it. I felt genuinely caught out. Despite my attempts at denial, and several transparent excuses, he finally got me to admit that I found it a huge turn on to be watched while I took it all off. The smirk on his face told me he had known all along.
As Davy returned from the bar he greeted the two guys as if they were best friends. As I stood watching them talking and laughing, I noticed Javier and Davy especially. There was an odd resemblance that was more to do with mannerisms than physical likeness. They both had an easy way about them, and most interesting of all, they shared a particular way of smirking I had come to think of as Davy's 'strip me' smile. Any time I saw that look on his face, I knew he was thinking of some new way to push me, cajole or dare me into getting naked for him. Needless to say it was a look I'd come to love. Now I saw that same peculiar expression on Javier's face as Davy stood, smiling beside him, speaking intimately into his ear above the music.
A few hours and quite a few vodkas later, the four of us wound up in a small club I had never been to before. It was a gay venue, in a basement under a larger and straighter club above. It had never occurred to me to go in, since the name of the place - Cokx - had always put me off. However although it was definitely cruisey, it wasn't the sex dungeon I expected it to be. Usually I had to be physically dragged onto a dance floor, but the music was good, a mix of oldies and dance stuff. So when Peter & Javier tried to coax me onto the dance floor, I went without too much of a fight. It was pretty crowded and the heat was fierce. I could see Davy leaning in his corner, smiling at me as he chatted to yet another friend of his. Peter & Javier were being silly, and so we were soon laughing and bouncing around. Before long I felt the sweat running down my chest.
I like heat but I hate sweating, so in between moves I flapped my shirt a few times in a fruitless effort to get some air onto my rapidly overheating body. Javier, apparently blessed with a genetic resistance to heat, leaned over and shouted in my ear
"Feeling the heat boy? You look like you're in meltdown" He was looking from me to Peter, who was dancing behind me, waving his hands theatrically and rolling his eyes in imitation of a version of me who was seemingly about to pass out from heat exhaustion.
"I know what's wrong with him," Peter shouted back. "This shirt is far too warm," he said, reaching around from behind me and flapping the front as I had been doing a few minutes before. Javier joined in, feeling the thickness of the material and shaking his head in feigned shock at just how thick it was before they launched into a chorus of "Far too thick. No wonder youre hot!" Javier kept hold of the shirt and I was barely able to keep moving. His flapping motions were getting more and more extreme, raising the shirt half way up my torso. After a moment, Peter joined in from the rear, so that they were essentially pulling my shirt half way up my body and pulling it down again. I felt a bit ridiculous, but since we we'd laughed so much already I let them have their fun.
This went on for a minute or so and I was just about to tell them enough was enough, when they both let go of my shirt and Peter danced his way around to my side. He had his hands over his head, waving them in a somewhat motorically challenged attempt at dancing, and gesturing at me to do the same. When I just looked at him pretending not to understand, he grabbed my hands and pulled them up over my head, until I was making the same lame moves as he was, and feeling pretty foolish for it. I closed my eyes and tried to tell myself I didn't look like a total dick, when I felt them begin their flapping again. I opened my mouth and eyes at the same time, about to tell them to give it a rest, when in one swift motion, they pulled my shirt up and off me altogether. I looked at them too surprised to speak, but when Javier tossed the shirt over to Davy, the latters' thumbs up and the laughs the guys returned made me begin to think I'd been what Davy had been talking to Javier about earlier.
The idea that this little move had been planned between them was both alarming and erotic. The fact that it was easily 35 degrees in the club and that I wasn't the only shirtless guy on the dance floor made it seem pretty harmless however. I didn't want to seem prudish by immediately demanding my t-shirt back, and I had a nice vodka buzz going anyway. Instead I just made my way over to Davy, ostensibly to finish the drink he had been minding for me, and thanked him sarcastically to see if my suspicions were correct. Not surprisingly my only answer was the famous smirk.
Peter and Javier joined us, but only long enough to demand I return to the dance floor. I wondered briefly if they had more little moves planned, but after a moment figured I might as well enjoy this, whatever it was. They grabbed me somewhat possessively by the arms and manouvred me through the heaving bodies until I was again dancing in between them. I stood there swaying a little, closing my eyes and trying to get myself back in the dancing mood again. Apparently this wasn't fast enough of the guys, because I felt two pairs of hands grab my hips, forcing me to gyrate like an amateur belly dancer. As I picked up the rhythm, instead of releasing their grip, they simply shifted their hands; Peter's sliding onto my still sweat slicked stomach, and Javier's hooking into my belt. A little charge ran through me as I felt the heat from their hands brushing my bare skin.
Peter was stroking my stomach in little circles, and before long I felt his hands move slowly up towards my chest. His fingers kept circling, and I swallowed hard as one of them suddenly grazed the ring in my left nipple.
"Look at that" he said to Javier. "He's got a ring through his tit."
"Oh yes, so he has," he replied, showing that oddly familiar smirk I'd noticed earlier. He reached up and tweaked it, making me swallow again. At this point I should probably add that my nipples are extremely sensitive, and even the slightest touch is enough to send a riot of erotic signals to the rest of my body. In this situation, conscious of just having my shirt stripped off me and surrounded by warm gyrating bodies, their toying seemed to be amplified by 10. They continued their comments and tweaking for a bit, the slight tone of sarcasm in their voices only adding to my growing arousal.
"These jeans look tight as well, don't you think P?" Javier asked.