You Belong to Me - 13

 

 

A week passed with no more messages from whoever had given him the watch, much to Corey’s relief.

 

Saturday night he decided to go out to another club he sometimes frequented. He thought about wearing the watch, not to please the giver, but because he’d really wanted it when he’d first seen it. Deciding what the hell, he put it on, then twisted his wrist to admire it. At least they have good taste. He chuckled, then sobered. Or they’ve been following me for longer than I’d like to think about. That was something that had occurred to him before. It didn’t exactly make his day. So he quickly took the watch off, put it back in the box, and tucked it away in the dresser drawer again.

 

The club was busy, but Corey was able to find a spot at the bar. Once he had a beer in hand, he leaned back to check out the room and the dance floor. He saw several men he knew: some were friends, a couple of others previous playmates. One of the latter spotted him and came over.

 

“Buy me a drink and I’ll dance with you,” Gary said with a grin.

 

“Now what makes you think I want to dance?” Corey grinned back.

 

“Because?”

 

Corey laughed. “That works. Name your poison.”

 

Gary did, and for a while they remained at the bar, catching up on each other’s lives while they finished their drinks. Then they wended their way to the dance floor. They’d just made it through the third song when Corey heard a familiar voice say, “My turn.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Neil, another friend, standing there, moving to the music.

 

“Go for it,” Gary told Corey, chuckling. “Just remember who you came in with.”

 

“Well, technically—”

 

Corey didn’t get to finish because Gray kissed him soundly, then strolled away.

 

After a couple of dances with Neil, Corey again found himself switching partners. This time he ended up with a man he didn’t know, who introduced himself as Quinn.

 

“You’re quite popular,” Quinn said after wrapping his arms around Corey’s waist. “And a good dancer,” he added a moment later, “so I’m not too surprised.”

 

“Thank you. It’s the reason I come here.”

 

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

 

“I could say the same,” Corey replied.

 

They talked a bit about themselves and then changed partners after exchanging phone numbers.

 

Not that he’ll ever call, and vice versa. He seemed nice, but not my type.

 

Corey’s type, at least for the night, was Gary. They danced for a while, bodies pressed together as they swayed to the beat of a slow song. It was obvious to both of them as they shared a few heated kisses that they’d end up in bed together. The only question was whose bed. Gary settled it by pointing out his place was closer.