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his dirty talk, and not the idea of the others watching us that turns me on.
    “Yeah?” His hand slides down from my nipple to brush softly over the front of my jeans, barely a touch, but enough to make me jerk a little in his arms. “Oh, definitely yeah.” He presses against my erection and rocks his own into my ass. Then, he spins me around again and pulls my arms back around his neck. “This, Nicholas, is called fun.” He says it close to my ear, then kisses the side of my face. “Now, let’s go get another shot.”
    I laugh as he tugs me toward the bar. We each do two more shots and then return to the dance floor. This time, he nods at me and then turns to a freckle-faced twink wearing eyeliner and no shirt. He runs his hands down the guy’s chest, asking a question, and apparently likes the answer he gets, because pretty soon, he’s got the twink pressed back to his chest and moving against him just like he had me a few moments before. Kevin crooks a finger to me and I move in, chest to chest with the twink and rest my hand on his hip.
    “Nick, this is Caleb,” Kevin shouts over the music.
    “Hi, Caleb,” I shout.
    “Hi, Nick.” He smiles at me. “I love the way you move.”
    I leave my hand on his hip, but reach the other over his shoulder and slide it behind Kevin’s neck. The three of us writhe together. Caleb’s cock rubs against mine as we dance, and it’s clear he’s getting turned on. Soon, Kevin will make his move, and I’ll have to call a cab to get home. I lose the rhythm at the pang of jealousy working through me, knowing it’s my own stubborn fault.
    Caleb runs a hand down my chest and leans close to my ear. “You guys can fuck me together if you want. You’re both hot as hell.”
    “No thanks, buddy.” Kevin somehow orchestrates getting Caleb out from between us. “But thanks for the dance, that was hot.”
    And then he’s leading me back to the bar. After two more shots— how many have I had now? —he parks his ass on a barstool and sends me out to dance by myself so he can watch.
    I give him a fucking show. For me, there’s nobody else in the place but him. I shake, I shimmy, I gyrate to beat the band, and all the while I can feel his stare, hot and focused on my writhing hips, my legs, my ass. I close my eyes and imagine him getting turned on, letting the heat that washes over me guide my movements.
    Caleb comes back, sticks his fingers in my belt loops, and drags me close. “Let’s make loverboy jealous,” he says in my ear, picking up my rhythm and grinding against me. He’s a good dancer, not as good as Kevin, but enthusiastic and sexy. He runs his hands over my body, nips little bites along my jaw. It’s exquisite sensual torture, to be touched like this, to touch back, knowing the one I really want is across the room, watching, maybe getting as turned on by watching as I am by knowing he’s watching. Caleb doesn’t try to kiss me, but he presses his forehead to mine and buries his hands in my hair. “Your man can’t take his eyes off you. Lucky bitch.”
    I look over to Kevin sitting at the bar, and our eyes meet. He gives me a feral grin and comes back to the floor to claim another dance of his own.
    ****
    I lost count at five shots of tequila, which is a really bad idea, and something I really ought to know better than to do. Or something. The point is, I’m a bartender; I know better. Shit, I can’t feel my teeth. This bathroom mirror pep talk is making me feel even stupider than when I walked in. And I felt pretty stupid when I walked in. Letting some random guy do a body shot off your abs in front of the love of your life will do that to you.
    God, I’m all… sticky .
    “Oh, Jesus, Nick.” Kevin walks into the john and takes in my disheveled appearance— or maybe the way I’m leaning my forehead against the mirror. “Okay buddy. Let’s go.” He pulls one of my arms around his shoulders and sort of hoists me against him.
    “We gonna dance some