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left, omitting the bit about the unfashionable Italian prostitute and the possibility that he may have given him crabs.
    “If you ask me, it’s his loss,” Matthew said. “You’re in pretty good shape. You seem like a decent guy. I’d say you were quite a catch.”
    He smiled at Martin as he said this, and for a split second their eyes locked. There was an awkward pause while Martin considered the possibility that Matthew was going to kiss him. Part of him secretly wished he would. Matthew was far too nice for John anyway, and it hardly seemed fair that John should be with him while Martin was faced with being alone. It was probably the drink, but he was about to blurt this out to Matthew when suddenly John arrived back from the bar, clutching a round of drinks. He stopped abruptly and gave an awkward smile, as though he were embarrassed at having interrupted the conversation. Martin had seen this routine before. John was the only person he knew who was capable of looking slightly bashful and extremely full of himself at the same time.
    “Been talking about me, then?” John said, looking first at Martin and then at Matthew.
    “Of course,” Matthew replied, sliding an arm around his waist and giving him a little squeeze. “Who else?”
    Martin smiled sheepishly and wondered what on earth someone with Matthew’s many attributes could possibly see in someone like John. Not that John wasn’t fairly attractive—in a bland, blond sort of way. He had pale blue eyes, which he sometimes darkened with the aid of colored contact lenses, and lashes that were tinted once a month to emphasize their length. He worked out regularly and never seemed to put on weight, no matter what he ate—unlike Martin, who only had to look at a Quarter Pounder and regular fries to start piling on the pounds. But John certainly wasn’t anything special. He didn’t have a particularly handsome face, and unlike Martin, nobody had ever mistaken John for being a decent guy. Take his behavior tonight, for instance. Martin doubted whether it had even crossed John’s mind that seeing him together with his latest catch might be the very last thing Martin needed right now.
    For the next hour, he watched with growing irritation as John draped himself around Matthew at every opportunity, laughing at everything he said and generally behaving like a love-struck teenager. He even nibbled his ear once, though Martin noticed with some satisfaction that Matthew didn’t seem too pleased. By the time they called last orders, Martin was left feeling like a complete goose and wishing that he had just kissed Matthew himself when he’d had the chance. He vowed that, should the opportunity ever arise again, he would grab it by both ears.
    As they left Kudos and began walking in the direction of Leicester Square, John announced that he and Matthew were heading on to a club.
    “We thought we might try G.A.Y.,” he said, looking back at Martin over his shoulder. “Come with us, if you like.” Martin could detect from the tone of his voice that John was simply being polite—for Matthew’s benefit more than his. He toyed with the idea of accepting John’s halfhearted invitation, just to annoy him, but decided against it.
    “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m feeling pretty tired. I think I’d rather just go home.”
    They said their good-byes outside Leicester Square tube station, and Martin watched as John and Matthew headed up Charing Cross Road. He was feeling tired, but the mere thought of going home alone at 11:00 P.M. on a Friday night was too depressing to contemplate. Besides, all the vodka and beer he had knocked back in the past two hours was making him horny. Caroline had once joked that this was the one thing the entire male species had in common, whether they were gay or straight—give them a few drinks and their bodies turn into life-support machines for their penises. Martin smiled to himself as he turned and started walking in the direction of