Instance Ch. 02

He swallowed hard, and winced as his phone beeped again.

He pulled himself away from the mirror, willing himself to forget about how he was dressed, and just get on and do the job he was being paid to do.

He checked his phone. He was right, the texts were from Ian.

'It's time!' and then, 'Showtime, sweetheart!'

'Omw' he replied, then pushed his phone into his pocket and stepped out of his room.

*

Ian met him back up in the bar area. "Okay, things won't really heat up until eleven or so, but we'll get the first early birds arriving soon to have a few drinks and a chat before the action starts."

Ian took him over to the bar and introduced him to the other wait staff.

"Jackson, this is Tom and Eli. They'll be slinging the drinks tonight."

Jackson said a shy hello to the other two, who were in their twenties, shirtless, and in tiny gogo shorts. Tom had short, blonde curly hair, and Eli had dark hair spiked up, and a large stretcher in his right ear.

They were both intimidatingly well built, and Jackson felt his rebellious lob-on grow, as he did his best to pull his gaze away from their bare chests, their solid pecs, and their well-defined abs.

Eli had tattoos running across his chest and shoulders, but Tom was perfectly smooth, hairless, and free of tatts and piercings.

"The patrons get three drink tokens each with their entry," explained Ian, holding out a plastic token to Jackson. "We limit alcohol to make sure there's no question of consent. Your job is to circulate. If they hand you a token and ask you for a drink, you go fetch it from Tom and Eli and bring it to them."

"Sounds easy," said Jackson, doing his best to dampen his nervousness by being upbeat.

"It is," said Tom. His voice had a husk to it that Jackson found appealing. "Most of them will tip you if you put on a good show."

"A good... show?" asked Jackson.

Ian laughed. "Tom's an old hand at getting tips, aren't you lad?"

Tom grinned. "Might be."

A couple of men walked in, chatting to each other, and Ian motioned for Jackson to approach them.

"Hi, welcome to Horatian," he said to the two men, who paused to eye him up... and then very definitely downward. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yeah, thanks," said the taller of the two. Both were burly, with well groomed beards, and though Jackson was just under six foot, they were both at least an inch or two taller than him.

They both handed him plastic tokens, and he went back to the bar and asked Tom for a couple of beers while the two men found a booth.

"I can't believe you're wearing a t-shirt," Tom said to him in a low voice as he pulled the beers out of the fridge behind the bar. "The hourly rate's great, but the tips are the real reason we work here."

"Seriously?" asked Jackson, as Tom handed him the beers.

Tom gave him a dry look. "Yeah. Lose the shirt, mate."

Jackson shook his head. He wasn't ready to do that.

He took the drinks and walked back to the two men, placing them down on the table.

"Thanks," said the shorter of the two. He examined Jackson again. "Are you pos?"

Jackson shook his head. "No. I've just started here. This is my first night on the job."

The man gave him a gentle smile. "We'll go easy on you then."

"Thanks."'

Jackson went back to the bar and hovered there, unsure what to do with himself.

Over the next hour the room filled up fast, and soon the bar was full of men of all shapes and sizes.

There was an air of excitement as it got later and the music got cranked, and Jackson was kept busy fetching drinks.

As he headed back up to the bar for the umpteenth time, a hand landed on his shoulder.

"It's time, boy." It was Ian. Jackson swallowed as Ian held out his hand. "T-shirt, please."

Jackson knew he had to do it. He'd agreed to it, and he wasn't a man to break his word. He pulled his t-shirt off and handed it to Ian.

"You can have this back in an hour."

Ian patted him on the shoulder, and disappeared again.

Jackson felt naked and exposed, afraid that his constant semi would now be even more obvious. But it was only for an hour, and with so much eye-candy on display, he doubted anyone would cast him a second glance.

He resolved to put it out of his mind, and took the drinks back to the men who'd ordered them.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" said one, wearing a purple singlet and tight jeans. "Aren't you a delight?"

Jackson swallowed hard. "Thanks."

"Thanks!" The man in the purple singlet laughed, as did all his buddies. "I'm guessing you're new?"

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, just helping out for tonight." He was suddenly less sure he had the courage to do this twice. A couple of drinks would have made it all a lot easier, and handing them out to other men, while not drinking himself, was starting to grate on him.

Purple singlet put a hand on Jackson's chest, and Jackson felt heat ignite under his touch. The semi in his cargos filled out a little more, and his admirer glanced down.

"Packing to please, I see," he said. "Will you be joining us downstairs later?"

Jackson shook his head. "Just serving drinks."

He knew he must look like a rabbit in headlights.

"A shame." Purple singlet felt around in his pocket and pulled out a five dollar note. "Turn around."

Jackson did as he was told, and purple singlet pushed the note into the pocket at the back of his pants, then patted his arse.

Jackson turned back to him. "Thanks."

'Thanks' seemed to be the only word he was capable of saying.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty."

Purple singlet shook his head in wonder. "I'd have guessed you were no more than twenty-five. Well, if this wide-eyed innocence is an act, you're very good at it." He considered Jackson. "But if it's not, and you want an experience you'll never forget... find me downstairs."

He gave Jackson a last smile, then turned back to his conversation.

Jackson went back to the bar, confused, and pulled out the five dollar note. "Is there a jar?" he asked Tom.

"Nah, it's all yours, mate," said Tom. "But if you want to keep your earnings safe, you can leave them behind the bar."

He pulled out a drawer, divided into sections. "Take the partition at the back on the right. That can be your possie box for the night."

Jackson assumed he meant 'deposit box', and went back into the crowd to find more drink tokens.

As it grew later, more crowded, and hotter, he realised he was quite happy without his shirt. As he collected tokens and fetched drinks, he caught plenty of admiring gazes, arse pats and notes stuffed into his pockets and the waist of his pants.

The men were clearly horned up, but respectful enough, and Jackson started to enjoy himself. He was getting attention, and he'd never minded that. He worked out that on top of his hourly rate, he was easily pocketing another fifty dollars an hour, and it seemed all his money worries were over.

And then Blake walked into the bar.

Jackson had forgotten that Ian had invited Blake up to the club. But the moment the younger man walked in, Jackson's gaze was drawn to him.

He was dressed in a dusty blue v-neck t-shirt, jeans and a hoodie. His dark hair was one wave across his forehead, his eyes darker than Jackson's, ringed with dark eyelashes.

He caught sight of Jackson, and made straight for him.

"Hey!" He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gave Jackson a wide smile. "How's it going?"

"Hi," said Jackson, feeling exposed in his 'uniform'. "I'm just working..."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Ah... ah..."

Jackson put him out of his misery. "Do you want a drink? Give me one of your tokens and I'll grab you a beer."

Blake pulled a token out of his pocket and handed it to Jackson. "Here."

"You got a preference? We have a couple of options."

"No," said Blake, with a mischievous smile. "I'm easy with either."

Jackson got a pleasant prickle in his groin. "Okay," he said. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

He started for the bar, intending to fetch the other man a drink, but after a moment, realised Blake had followed him.

The younger man leaned against the bar as Jackson fetched him a beer.

"So, have you ever been to a club like this before?" Jackson asked, as Blake took a swig.

"No. You?"

"Nope."

Blake gestured to Jackson with his bottle. "You having one?"

Jackson shook his head. "I'm working. Actually, I should keep moving..."

"Yeah. No worries. I'll be here."

Jackson headed back into the crowd, feeling Blake's eyes on his back, but when he glanced back, he saw an older guy in leather chatting Blake up.

He fought down a stab of jealousy. He had a job to do.

The evening wore on, and he lost track of Blake. As it crept closer to midnight, patrons who still had tokens left grew fewer and fewer, and the majority of the men moved into other rooms.

Jackson leaned against the bar and spoke to Tom. "What else can I do? There aren't any more tokens."

Tom gave him a grin. "You want more cash?"

"That depends," he said, amused.

Tom looked around to see if his boss was nearby, then said, "Your shift can end now, if you want. I'll mark you down as a midnight finish. But ah, if you want to check out some of the other rooms in the club... there's still money to be made."

Jackson was tempted to head back to his room. Being in a crowded room full of sweaty, horny men, was more stimulation than he'd had in a very long time. But he was curious. He could just go have a look. There was no harm in looking around.

"Do I need to tell Ian I'm finishing up?" he asked.

Tom shook his head. "Nah, it's all good. You want your t-shirt back?"

Truth be told, it was hot in the club, and Jackson had started to enjoy the attention he got shirtless. And the tips.

"I'm fine. I'll see you in a bit."

He started for the door on the far side of the bar, to see what all the fuss was about.

*

Having never explored the 'scene', beyond going to the odd gay bar with his friends, Jackson had no idea what to expect. Well, he had some idea. He suspected the full on reality was likely to be something else.

As he stepped through the door that led from the bar to the dark maze, he caught the musk of sex, grunts, muffled cries of pained pleasure, and the sound of flesh on flesh.

He paused there, on the threshold, afraid of what might happen if he took another step. It wasn't that he was sexually inexperienced. But on the scale of vanilla to chocolate, his encounters had never gotten much further than 'caramel'.

His heart thudded faster, as he imagined himself there in the dark. Maybe suspended in a sling. Maybe pushed against the wall. Maybe shoved to the floor, or shoving someone else to the floor, getting his dick serviced.

His breathing grew faster, his fingers curling against his thighs as he imagined pulling a guy down onto his cock.

"Jackson!" Ian's voice came from behind him.

He spun around, half-relieved, half disappointed, as Ian strode across the bar towards him.

"You don't want to go in there," said Ian. "Not yet. Not tonight."

He cast a dark glance over at Tom and Eli, who were tidying up the bar. Tom steadfastly avoided his gaze.

"I was looking for Blake," said Jackson.

"Mmhmm," said Ian. The older man clearly didn't believe him. "Jackson, this is a party for HIV positive men. And as safe as we are, and as non judgemental as I am, you are not HIV positive."

"It's not much of a risk," said Jackson. "Condoms. PEP..."

"You're here to work," said Ian. "Not to fuck."

It was the first time Jackson had heard anything approaching a harsh tone in the man's voice.

"Okay," he said, a little disgruntled.

Ian caught his gaze. "How about I go find Blake? And if he's not busy, I'll tell him your shift's ended."

Jackson nodded quickly. "Thanks, Ian."

"Go get your t-shirt from Tom. I'll be back soon."

Ian disappeared into the maze.

Tom gave Jackson an apologetic grin as he handed Jackson's t-shirt across the bar to him. "Sorry bud, didn't mean to get you in trouble. Ian's not usually so... over-protective. You a relative or something?"

Jackson shook his head. "I know him through my addiction group."

Tom's eyes opened wide. "Oh, fuck. What ah—what's your poison?"

Jackson gave a low chuckle and sighed. "Mostly alcohol, these days."

"So, I won't be offering you a beer then?" said Tom.

"No. No, Ian's forbidden me drinking anything while I'm here."

Tom nodded. "That's harsh. But Eli here, he doesn't drink either, so you're in good company."

Eli, the dark-haired man, held up a hand.

"You an alcoholic too?" Jackson asked.

"Nah, just not into it, eh," said Eli. "I like my weed though. You allowed to smoke?"

Jackson realised Ian hadn't mentioned smoking weed, except the no drug policy in the common areas. "I'm not sure."

Their conversation ended as Ian returned. Blake was on his heels.

"Hey!" Blake sounded out of breath.

"I'll leave you two boys to it," Ian said. "The best time to hit the gym's seven a.m," he said to Jackson.

"You want me in the gym at seven a.m?"

"Just letting you know when it's quiet. Night boys."

Ian headed for the door that led back towards his office.

"You have a good night?" Jackson asked Blake.

The younger man's face was flushed, his breathing faster than normal. Sweat slicked his dark hair back from his forehead.

"Yeah. Really good."

For a long moment they stared at each other. This was normally where Jackson would suggest they got a drink. Denied that social convention, he wasn't sure what to do.

"So, you're living here, Ian said?" said Blake. "You want to go back to your room and talk?"

Jackson blinked. "Yeah. Okay."

He led Blake back to his room, and the other man whistled as he looked around. "Nice. Got your own balcony?"

"Yeah. It's not big, but it means we can smoke."

"Excellent." Blake felt in his pocket and pulled out a bag of weed. From his other pocket, he produced a pipe.

Jackson grinned. "You mind if I take a shower? I feel as if I'm caked in sweat."

"Yeah, course. You mind if I smoke a bowl outside?"

"Go for it."

Jackson took fresh clothes into the bathroom and quickly soaped himself down. He massaged shampoo through his hair, feeling the grime of a long night in a sweaty club against his scalp, and emerged from the bathroom feeling slightly less feral.

Blake was standing on the balcony. He flicked the lighter against the weed packed into his pipe, as Jackson leaned on the balcony beside him. He sucked down smoke, then handed the pipe to Jackson.

"Feel better?

"Much," said Jackson. He inhaled a lungful of smoke, and handed the pipe back to Blake.

"Hey, you mind if I take a shower too?" Blake asked, after he'd taken his hit.

"Sure."

Blake handed the pipe back to Jackson, then went back inside. He appeared ten minutes later smelling of soap, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Jackson glanced over at him as the other man leaned against the balcony railing, unable to tear his gaze away from Blake's near-naked body.

His legs were well-muscled and furred with dark hair. His chest was muscular, with a nest of dark hair across his pecs, and his arms showed good definition.

Blake took the pipe back from Jackson and took another hit.

"Fuck, that hits the spot."

He offered it back to Jackson, who shook his head. He was already starting to feel it.

"I'm good."

They both looked down into the alley, the cinema's sign now switched off.

"So, did you get some?" Jackson said.

Blake grinned. "Yeah. Got a blowjob, and fucked a guy." His gaze moved over Jackson. The look in his eyes was unmistakable. "Do you mind if I stay? I mean... do you want me to stay?"

Jackson's head was pleasantly stuffed. His nervousness from before had fallen away. He'd hoped Blake would ask, although he wasn't sure how far he wanted to go.

He nodded.

"Shall we go inside, then?" asked Blake. "I'm getting a bit cold out here. Half naked and everything."

Jackson followed the other man inside. He shut the balcony door, as Blake got onto the bed.

Blake stretched over and set the pipe on the bedside table, then patted the bed.

Jackson stretched out beside him, so they were face to face.

"I wanted to talk to you since I first saw you at group, but I didn't know how to approach you," said Blake. "I wouldn't have been so nervous if I'd known you had HIV."

"Oh, I don't," said Jackson, shifting his head onto his arm, getting comfortable.

Blake frowned. "But you're working the floor tonight... I thought..."

"It's just a job."

Blake looked shellshocked. "So you don't... oh. Fuck. I read this wrong." He started to roll off the bed, but Jackson put out a hand and stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

"You don't want this."

"Don't I get to decide that?"

"You'd think," Blake shot back. "But the guy who gave it to me didn't bother telling me he had it. I caught it early, because he was boasting to a guy on Facebook, who he didn't realise knew me, about stealthing me during sex. He told me the condom broke, and that he was clean. At best, I guess he didn't know he wasn't. At worst, he could have killed me."

He swallowed hard.

"I get tested every six months anyway, but I brought it forward, and there it was. Fucking HIV."

"But you're undetectable now," said Jackson.

"You shouldn't believe anyone who tells you that."

"I would never have sex without protection anyway."

Blake shook his head. "You haven't actually had sex with a man yet though, have you?"

Jackson shrugged again. "What can I say to let you know it's okay?" He put a hand on Blake's forearm, stroking with his thumb. "I like you. We don't have to do anything tonight if you're not comfortable. Stay and chat. It'd be nice to have the company."

Blake gave him an incredulous look. "You really aren't scared, are you?"

Jackson gave him a small smile. "Look, I'm not going to pretend it doesn't... bother me, at all. But I like you, and if we're safe, and you're undetectable... I mean, you took a test tonight, right?"

Jackson knew that, while it was optional, most of the men in the club had taken a speed test, so that they could show their results to any prospective partners.

"I'd rather you were on PrEP," said Blake. "I couldn't live with myself if I infected someone else. I'm kind of concerned that you're not more concerned."

Jackson dropped his eyes, laughing to himself. "I know what it's like to be the guy no one wants to be around. If you can look past a lifetime of fucking up everything I touch, I can look past a disease that's under control. Especially when the guy who's carrying it is possibly the most conscientious human being I've ever met."

He brought Blake's hand to his lips, and took two fingers into his mouth. Blake's eyes widened at the touch of Jackson's tongue moving against the pads of his fingers.

He slid his fingers from Jackson's mouth, down the man's chin, then dropped his hand to rest on the bed.

"You're not making it easy to say no."

"Would you accept a blowjob?" Jackson asked.

"I'd rather you were on PrEP first."

Jackson chuckled. "Well, that's a first. A man turning down a blowjob."

Blake traced fingers down Jackson's chest. "I have skilled hands. And there's no risk from me sucking you."

"And now, I've heard everything," said Jackson.

"Sit up."

Jackson did, and Blake sat up with him. He peeled off Jackon's t-shirt, then put his hands to the other man's jeans and undid them, sliding them down Jackson's hips along with his briefs.

"Ooh, fuck. You have the most beautiful cock." Blake breathed hot air across it, then bit his lower lip. He glanced up at Jackson. "I'm not lying. Fuck." He wrapped his hand around it, and Jackson lurched, the heat of the man's hand around his dick incredible. "I haven't had many cut cocks. I want this inside me when you're safe. If you want to fuck me," he said quickly.