Chapter 1

There are some nights when getting groped on the dance floor is unwelcome and distressing, and some nights when it’s expected and yearned for. The week before his fall semester, Terry considered it to be the latter. He had on his tightest red muscle shirt and a pair of loose shorts, perfect for sliding hands into, and got on the dance floor as soon as he knocked back a few drinks. Much to his disappointment, the fish weren’t biting. No matter how much he waggled his hips or winked seductively at other dancers, everyone was either there with someone or simply wasn’t interested.

Paul, Terry’s best friend, housemate, and wingman, was getting more action than he was. Not two minutes after they got there, young men were practically throwing themselves at Paul. When Paul tried to divert them over to Terry, many of them pretended they couldn’t hear—or honestly couldn’t—and the rest simply lost interest and moved on. Terry wasn’t sure if only men who were into blonds had come out that night, or if there was something about the tall, dark, handsome stranger that had become cliché to the point of boredom.

“I’ll dance with you,” Paul said, raising his voice over the bass. “We’ll show everyone what they’re missing.”

Terry sighed. “Yeah, sure.” He didn’t want a pity dance, but if it was all he was going to get, he was willing to take it. Paul was like his brother though, and Terry would rather have some exciting stranger’s hands on him tonight.

At twenty-six, Terry was going to be older than most of his classmates, but then again, his classmates probably hadn’t been abroad for a couple years. After getting his first degree, Terry thought he was ready to take on the world, write a new book every month, get the real stories out there. Instead he found himself lost, uninspired, and constantly hiding the fact that he was gay. He had one rough draft for a book about his experience, Out of the Closet and into the World, but in his opinion it consisted too much of him whining that so many places still harbored homophobic traditions. Initially he didn’t want to go back to school, but he figured a second degree couldn’t hurt, and might open more opportunities in the future.

The problem was that, now that he was back where he could finally blow off steam without having to comb through the scant number of out men he found in the hidden bars where he barely spoke the language, no one would have him. “I might as well have gone to Russia,” he grumbled.

The next song had a strong bass and a semi-sexual tempo. Paul clapped Terry on the shoulder and leaned in to say, “I’ll go get drinks, you stay here in the shark tank. You’re bound to get at least a nibble eventually.”

Terry didn’t bother arguing. He almost went with Paul to the bar, but the music was getting to him. He swayed his body in rhythm and closed his eyes, imagining someone coming up behind him and grinding against him. Even so, he jumped a little when two hands did snake their way around his torso.

A voice in his ear growled, “Finally. I thought he’d never leave.”

This was it. This was exactly what Terry had been waiting for. His heart pounded harder than the beat from the speakers. He leaned back into the stranger’s body, delighted to feel supple muscle and a light bulge pressed into his ass. The rasp of a short beard grazed his ear and the stranger’s hands roamed sensually along Terry’s chest and hips. Terry was so turned on he didn’t even know what to say. He hummed with pleasure and reached behind him to run his fingers through the other man’s hair, pushing himself even closer.

“I knew you’d be into this,” the stranger said. “The minute I saw you out here, showing off in such a tight shirt, making eyes at anyone who passed, I knew you were begging for attention.”

“Mmhmmm.” Terry couldn’t tell which was hotter, the smooth voice in his ear, or the growing bulge against his back. “Glad you noticed,” he said.

“I’m surprised no one else did. You were practically offering this gorgeous body on a silver platter. Your friend is an okay dancer, but he wasn’t going to give you what you needed.” The stranger’s hand slid down to get a feel of Terry’s cock. “Ooo, seems I’ve made quite an impression. And if you can’t tell how I feel, well, I’m not sure how I can make myself more clear.”

Terry reached for his pocket. The condoms and travel packet of lube he had brought were still there. His only concern now was what his partner truly looked like. He had an image in his mind, but for all he knew this guy could be covered in zits, or had nasty teeth, or something that would kill his boner the moment he turned around. Taking a deep breath, he decided to risk it.