The Sleaze IV

The DJ had reached his Bollywood remixes middle age. But it was only 11:30.
Wench Boy had no idea what the time was as he gazed a full gaze on this god awesomely gorgeous creature. Well, at least Wench Boy thought he was god awesomely gorgeous. He could not make out in the dark that Randeep did not have a terribly gifted plastic surgeon. However, he did not look his full 40 something years in the disco dark.
And if you were really sensitive his bloodshot blue lensed eyes spoke scores of his mid life crisis.

‘How do you know each other?’ Randeep stessed on ‘you’.

‘We are roomies.’ Sandeep quipped. ‘Could you excuse us.’ At this he turned to face Wench almost blocking his view. ‘I have to show Wench something.’

Randeep turned to go back to his place under the discoball.

‘What the hell?’ Wench Boy was predictably cross.

Sandeep took him by his skinny arm and dragged him to the lounge area where a few persons in white and few regulars sat rather comfortably. The area lacked any bit of the energy the dance floor radiated. Wench could feel the sudden bout of lethargy hit his bones. As if someone had surprised him by spraying Barbiturates on his face. He had pictured the lounge as a decaying eighteenth century orgy room. Sandeep had lied to him about the red curtains and stained velvet couches. Lethargy mixed with a sense of betrayal. Evidently no one was doing anything. Save for some hardy bargainers, others did not even talk. Sandeep still held his arm and it began to smart.

‘Leggo! You’re hurting me.’

‘You know who that was?’ Sandeep practically hissed.

Wench Boy realized he had met someone bad news and as if Sandeep had read his mind he said, ‘He is not just bad news he is dangerous.’

‘Oh.’

‘Stay away from trouble. I need to pee and collect some numbers and maybe a blowjob.’

‘Anyone else I need to know about.’

‘Nopes.’

Clutching his glass, Wench nervously looked around again. The whirring of the fan annoyed him. He decided to go back to the dance floor.
Someone tapped on his shoulders.

‘Hi.’ The tall and wispy eyelashed man smiled the sweetest smile Wench had not known.

‘Hi’

‘I’m Darius.’ He said curving his thin lips so they appeared even more delicate.

Wench knew he did not have much time to waste. He barely had 15 minutes before making his Cinderella getaway.

‘I’m Wench Boy. Wanna dance?’

Darius never wasted time.

By the time Randeep came out of the loo after a blowjob and no phone numbers, Wench Boy had already had his first real kiss. Real because he never considered the sole kiss his filthy neighbour had given him at the age of six. Wench did not remember exactly how it had happened.
He did not remember that he had made him open his mouth wide, pushed his toungue in and after withdrawing it had spit into his mouth followed by an attempt to suck on his tounge. Wench had conveniently erased it all from his memory. He could only recall the self censored vesion where the young man had simply bit his toungue.

He figured it did not even qualify as a kiss. It was just a spontaneous act of violance.

Darius' thin lips felt more healing than Avon’s Strawberry Lip Balm. And more than healing him they actually made him see fire works. Or maybe it was the disco lights.

No it had to be fire works.

How could the lights have penetrated his shut eyelids? For a brief moment Wench could stop thinking. He did not even think about thinking.

The music was unashamedly upbeat but Darius and him danced as if to a husky rock ballad.