THREE
Spencer
Spencer and Xander walked the ten blocks to Heyday, the kitschy retro diner where they met their friends – the other sex gods – every Sunday morning for brunch. The fresh air and exercise were helping Spencer’s headache. Greasy food and a pot of coffee would get him through the rest of the morning.
As they approached the diner, Xander wrapped his arm around Spencer’s shoulder and muttered, “Breeders at twelve o’clock.” He pointed out a man and a woman half a block away, their backs to Spencer and Xander. The man was pulling a Radio Flyer wagon behind him. Riding in the wagon were two children, a boy and a girl, laughing and bouncing with excess energy.
“Look on the bright side, man,” Xander said, patting Spencer’s chest. “You may be turning thirty, but at least you aren’t married and stuck with kids.”
Spencer pretended to shudder. “Don’t even joke about that, dude.” He returned his attention to the young couple. The woman had her hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing a lilac-colored blouse. She was attractive enough, but her boyfriend had obviously given up a long time ago. He was dressed in a T-shirt that was at least two sizes too big and cargo shorts with bulging pockets that covered his knees. Typical dad. No longer dressing for the ladies. Poor guy probably hadn’t gotten laid in months.
The man’s children, who still possessed the capacity for joy, launched into a spirited game of patty-cake. Their hands moved faster and faster until the game devolved into a blur of flailing limbs. The boy’s elbow bumped into a stuffed tiger that had been propped up in the wagon behind him, sending the doll tumbling to the sidewalk. Neither of the children took notice of the tiger’s abrupt departure.
Spencer knew how this story ended. The happy little family would continue on their way, blissfully unaware of the Chernobyl-level meltdown waiting for them at their destination when the kid realized his stuffed animal was gone.
“Hey, wait up!” He jogged toward the couple, scooping up the doll on the way. “You in the blue shirt! Wait!”
The guy stopped and looked around in obvious confusion, finally focusing on Spencer. “Are you talking to me?”
Spencer walked a few steps closer. Momentarily at a loss for words, he simply nodded. Despite the guy’s disheveled hair and untrimmed beard, he was unexpectedly attractive. Spencer was transfixed by the man’s eyes. They were fascinating, a color Spencer had never seen before – amber, almost gold – and perfectly framed by long lashes and bold expressive eyebrows.
Honey. His eyes are the color of honey.
The man’s lips curved into a diffident smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.” A pleasant warmth pooled in Spencer’s belly. “I…would you…?” Would you like to go someplace private and fool around?
Jesus Christ, pump the brakes. He’s a straight guy. With kids.
An adorable crimson flush warmed the other man’s cheeks. “Yeah?” When Spencer didn’t immediately answer, he bit his bottom lip and averted his gaze. The smile slipped from his face. “Oh.” The disappointment in that single word was painfully apparent.
“What?” Spencer asked, taken aback by the sudden change in tone. Then he remembered he’d picked up the little boy’s tiger. “Oh, right.” He dusted off the stuffed animal and held it out. “Here. This fell.”
The boy stood in the wagon. “Mickey!” he yelled, tugging on the hem of the guy’s oversized blue shirt. With his free hand, he made a grabby gesture toward the tiger doll. “Mister Stripes!”
Mister Stripes was clearly the tiger. Had the kid called the man by his first name? The age difference was too big for him to be an older brother. Maybe he was a stepdad?
Mickey placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Logan, sit down. I don’t want you to fall.” He turned back to Spencer and reached for the stuffed animal. “Sorry about that.” When Mickey’s hand wrapped around the tiger’s belly, his fingertips brushed against Spencer’s.
A sudden rush of lust caught Spencer off guard. Mickey was not a guy who would’ve ever captured his attention just walking down the street. But now that they were face-to-face, touching one another, Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off him. Mickey’s lips looked so soft and kissable. He could lean in…
Logan broke the spell by screeching for Mister Stripes. “Um, thank you,” Mickey mumbled.
“Sure.” Spencer released his hold on the doll.
Mickey crouched down and handed the tiger to Logan. “What do you say to the nice man who picked Mister Stripes up off the sidewalk?”
Logan hugged the stuffed animal to his chest. He regarded Spencer with caution. “Thank you.”
Mickey ruffled the young boy’s hair affectionately.
That kind gesture brought a smile to Spencer’s lips. The man was clearly a loving father. He thrust his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “You have a cute son.”
“Oh, he’s not my son.” Mickey shot to a standing position. His eyes darted between Spencer and the woman by his side. “I take care of Logan. I’m his…um, nanny.”
“Cool. So, uh…” Spencer pointed between Mickey and the woman. “Not married?”
Mickey flinched and shook his head. “What? No. I’m…” He glanced at his friend before turning back to Spencer. “I’m gay.”
Well. Maybe they could fool around after all. Mickey had nice pecs, with a hint of chest hair peeking over his shirt’s stretched-out neckline. He also had a prominent bulge in the fly area of his ill-fitting khaki shorts, which bode well for him having a nice cock.
Spencer dragged the tip of his tongue across his lower lip. “So…”
Xander shook his shoulder. “Dude, we’ve got to go. Blake and Quinn are waiting.” He nodded toward the large window next to the diner’s front door. Their friends were seated in the window booth, watching the unfolding events with obvious confusion.
“I’m meeting friends for brunch,” Spencer said.
“I’ve got to go, too. Thanks again for saving Mister Stripes.”
The children were playing a new round of patty-cake, having already forgotten the excitement over Mister Stripes’s rescue. Mickey picked up the wagon’s handle, and he and his friend were on their way. After a few steps, Mickey glanced over his shoulder with a wistful expression.
Spencer waved, and Mickey answered his wave with a hesitant half-smile.
Go after him. Get his number. Don’t let him walk away.
“C’mon,” Xander said, grabbing Spencer’s forearm and guiding him toward the diner. “What was all that about?”
“What do you mean?”
“The heart-eyes, Spence. Jeez, at one point I thought you were going to make a move to kiss him.”
“Whatever.” Spencer didn’t want to admit that Xander was on to him. “I was just being friendly. You should try it sometime.”
The smell of bacon and fresh coffee greeted them inside the diner. Heyday was nothing fancy. Its simple decor consisted of framed photographs and newspaper clippings from the 70s and 80s. The worn, cracked vinyl on the booths had seen better days, but the food was good and the coffee was strong, so the place was usually busy.
Since Xander trained the diner’s manager for free, the large, U-shaped booth by the window was always reserved for their group on Sunday morning.
The minute the two had stepped through the door, Blake called out, “Dead man walking!” He dissolved into a fit of laughter as people seated at the nearby booths turned to stare in their direction. Spencer punched Blake’s bicep and slid into the booth across from Quinn. Chuckling at Spencer’s melodramatic reaction, Xander took the seat across from Blake.
“Ow! What the fuck, Spence?” Blake asked, rubbing his arm. Easily the strongest among them, Blake had the buff physique of a porn star. Watching him act as if Spencer’s lame punch had any effect on him was endearing.
“You deserved it,” Quinn said to Blake. “Jokes like that perpetuate the toxic ageism that plagues the gay community. Don’t pay attention to him, Spence.” With a playful twinkle in his blue eyes, he slid a menu toward Spencer. “This should cheer you up. They have some lovely Early Bird specials on the senior menu today.”
“Ha fucking ha,” Spencer grumbled. “Need I remind you that we’re all about the same age? You’ll be turning thirty soon, too.”
Blake gasped and clutched the neckline of his shirt. “Take it back! It’s all a lie.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Blake can actually count that high,” Xander said.
“It’s true,” Blake conceded. “I lost count when I ran out of fingers and toes. After I turned twenty-five it’s all been a blur.”
Spencer drummed his fingers on the table. “Twenty-five? How many fingers and toes do you have?”
“Wha—?” Blake silently counted his fingers, bending each one in turn. He closed his eyes and hung his head. “Aw, man.” Blake was the group’s self-proclaimed himbo. He wasn’t stupid, just a little slow on the uptake sometimes, especially where math was involved. Spencer was certain he played it up for laughs, though, so he could make fun of himself before anyone else had a chance to.
Quinn wrapped his arm around Blake and pushed the brim of his baseball cap over his eyes. “We still love you.”
A cute lanky guy whose hair was dyed cherry red came by with a pot of coffee. He wasn’t their regular server. Spencer had seen him around, but always during the evening shift. After rattling off the day’s specials and pouring everyone coffee, he smiled at Blake, who was resting his head on Quinn’s shoulder with his eyes closed.
Once their server had stepped away, Xander got the group’s attention by clinking his spoon against his water glass. Every week, they regaled one another with vivid descriptions of their weekend exploits. Bragging was a big part of being a sex god, so much so that Xander had made it the fourth rule: If you don’t talk about sex, it didn’t happen.
“Time for Sex God Story Hour. I’ll start,” Xander announced. “On Friday night I got spit-roasted by identical twins. And before anyone asks, yes, their cocks were identical. Come to think of it, though, their balls weren’t the same. One guy’s were much bigger.”
“How is that even possible?” Quinn asked sarcastically.
“I don’t know, Quinn. Maybe he was using them to store spare change. Since when did you become the ball expert?”
“On Wednesday, I did it in the bathroom of a donut shop,” Blake blurted out, effectively ending the ball argument. “The guy at the counter was hot, so when he asked me if I wanted my donuts plain or frosted, I told him to meet me in the bathroom on his break.”
Xander gave Blake a high five. “Nice! Did you put your peanut stick in his cruller?”
“Nah, I’m allergic to peanuts. I did get a free jelly donut, though.”
“Okay, then.” Xander looked to Quinn and rolled his eyes. “I’m almost afraid to ask what you and Henry got up to this weekend.”
Quinn had been one of the sex gods before he met his husband Henry three years ago. He was still an honorary member of the group, even though his and Henry’s sex life had cooled to barely a simmer.
“We watched a fascinating documentary about the fire at the Triangle Shirtwaist company in 1911.” The guys groaned in unison and threw sugar packets at him. “What? It led to important regulations that protected factory workers.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Xander said. “A few weeks ago, you and Henry were finally heating things up with that food fight, and now you’re back to documentaries? What happened to the Quinn who had a bukkake orgy with the cast of that Twelve Angry Men revival?”
Anger flashed in Quinn’s eyes. “Want a megaphone? There might be someone in the Mission who didn’t hear you.”
Xander harrumphed and clapped Spencer on the back. “Moving on to a man who never disappoints. Your turn, stud.”
Spencer shrugged. “I hooked up with a surfer.”
“You don’t sound too excited about that.” Quinn swept his blond bangs out of his eyes. “Was the sex bad?”
“No, it was good,” Xander said with a mischievous grin. “Loud, at least. He’s just bummed because he hasn’t finished his fuck-it list yet. He still needs to bang a virgin. I told him we could put our heads together and come up with a plan.”
Blake opened a packet of jelly and spooned the contents into his mouth. “You could post an ad on Craigslist.”
“Are you kidding?” Quinn asked. “An ad saying what? ‘Are you a virgin? Do you want a pro to pop your cherry?’ Who would post an ad like that? Who would respond to an ad like that?”
Spencer covered his eyes with his hand. “Ugh. I tried that already.” All three of his friends leaned forward and rested their forearms on the table. “Four people responded to the ad, but they all thought I had some kind of weird role-playing kink. None of them were actually virgins.”
“Too bad the ad was a waste of time,” Blake said as he tucked into another jelly packet. “Sucks to go through all that effort and not get anything out of it.”
“I mean, I still fucked them all,” Spencer mumbled.
Xander slapped his thigh. “So that’s what was going on two weeks ago. It was a lot of weekday sex, even for you.”
Spencer sighed and ran his hands down his face. “Maybe there aren’t any virgins left in San Francisco.”
Quinn laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course there are.”
“And you think you can find one?” Xander challenged.
“I’m more likely to find one than you and Spence. You guys don’t exactly hang out at places where virgins are known to congregate.”
“Why don’t you ask your knight in shining argyle? Someone in your husband’s boring-ass law firm has to be a virgin.”
Quinn knitted his brow. “Henry is thirty-three. Most of his co-workers are in their thirties and forties. Or older.”
“Mmhmm. And what did the two of you do last night?”
“Fine,” Quinn said, throwing his hands up. “I’ll have him ask around.”
Their server came back to the table with his notepad. “Is everyone ready to order?”
“Hi…” Xander read the young man’s name tag. “Ethan. Are you a virgin, by chance?”
“Uh, no? I’ve had sex before.” Ethan’s eyes darted to Blake as his freckled cheeks flushed pink.
Blake’s mouth fell open. He took off his baseball cap, causing a few locks of chestnut-colored hair to fall across his forehead. One side of his mouth hooked into a smile. “Hi.”
“Do you know what you want?” Ethan asked.
Blake stared at him, momentarily flustered, and managed a faint, “What?”
“Do you know what you want to order?”
Xander looked between Blake and Ethan. “We need a few minutes.”
“Take your time.” Ethan winked at Blake before moving on to the next table.
“So, we’ll circle back to that ,” Xander said, nodding his head in Ethan’s direction. “First though, hands in.” He held his hand palm down over the center of the table. Blake and Spencer placed their hands over his. Finally, Quinn huffed and muttered, “Fine,” before placing his hand on the others.
“We have a mission,” Xander said. “Three weeks to find a virgin. Eyes open, flies zipped. Spence has dibs on this one, boys. On three – one, two, three, break!” The four men snapped their hands back.
Spencer appreciated that his friends had his back and took his fuck-it list as seriously as he did. If anyone could ferret out a virgin in a city the size of San Francisco, it was this bunch of reprobates.
While Xander and Blake spoke in hushed tones about Ethan, who kept sneaking peeks at Blake from across the restaurant, Spencer perused the menu. He was trying to decide between the Denver omelet and the huevos rancheros when he had the distinct sensation that someone was watching him. He lowered his menu to find Quinn sipping coffee and staring at him over the cup’s brim. “Yes?”
“Why a virgin?” Quinn asked.
“Why not a virgin?”
Quinn raised his eyebrows.
“Because it’s something I haven’t experienced yet,” Spencer explained. “And I won’t be in my sexual prime much longer.” Quinn didn’t get it. The idea of someone having a sexual experience that Spencer hadn’t, especially one as seemingly attainable as bedding a virgin, rankled him to his core. The feeling of missing out would consume him.
Besides, how could he call himself a sex god if he hadn’t experienced everything lust had to offer?
“What comes next?” Quinn asked. “After you finish your list?”
To be honest, Spencer hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Start a new one, I guess?”
Quinn put down his coffee cup and leveled an icy glare at Spencer. “Look, maybe you’re bummed about your surfer because you’re ready for something more than a meaningless hookup. Maybe it's time you start thinking about settling down. You're turning thirty, Spence." Quinn lowered his voice when Xander shot him a dirty look. “There’s more to life than fucking anything with a dick. Take it from me, sex is different with someone you care about. It’s special.”
“Oh god.”
“Just, think about it. What about the guy you were talking to outside?”
“You mean Mickey?”
Quinn broke into a self-satisfied smile. “You got his name.”
“Nope,” Spencer said, wagging his finger. “The kid yelled his name. I didn’t ask for it.”
“You seemed to hit it off. How about going on a date with someone like him? A real date, not just a hookup?”
A real date. Where he could talk to Mickey, hear his story. Come to understand the vulnerability in Mickey’s eyes. What would it be like to have those amber eyes gazing into his during sex?
It would be too much. With a shy, caring guy like Mickey, it wouldn’t just be sex. It would be tender. It would be making love . Spencer made love once as a na?ve teenager, and he never wanted to feel that raw and exposed again.
No-strings-attached hookups suited him just fine.
“I don’t think I’m the dating type,” Spencer said, shaking his head. He couldn’t deny, though, that both Rory and Mickey had gotten under his skin. But his fond feelings for those guys were anomalies – a symptom of how tired he was. Or maybe a sign of some upcoming birthday blues.
It was a good thing Spencer wouldn’t see either of the men again. Better to let them go and avoid the risk of getting involved, with all the drama and complications that came along with that.
He liked his life the way it was. Liked his freedom. Unlike Quinn, he couldn’t imagine breaking the fifth and final rule for being a sex god – the most crucial rule of all: Never fall in love.