Page 20 of Full Service

In a very non-sexual, very platonic way.

My dick does not control me.

I am my own man, thank you very much.

I used to have a nightly ritual of coming home, microwaving a meal, and falling into bed with a good biopic about some long-dead person.

I have no clue why I’m still single. I’m such fun. A true catch.

But now, things have changed. I haven’t gone back inside the club to watch Everly dance because that ended terribly, and I honestly can’t stomach the thought of coming in my pants again. I don’t think I could live down the humiliation. And I don’t want to end up like some kind of stalker featured on a television show a year from now. It was bad enough that Everly saw me cream myself the first time and caught me in the club the second time around. I will not crawl my way into the shoddy little strip club and get off to the sight of him again.

But I have made it a bit of a habit to walk by the club each night after eating dinner. It’s just for the exercise, I tell myself. I’m getting up there in age and The Back Door is close enough. I should really get a dog so I can have the excuse that I need to walk him. Perhaps Vertebrata would enjoy a nice stroll around town.

I should buy some kind of portable fish bowl and take her out. I bet she’d like that. She’s a real social animal. She can scowl at passersby.

I scoff as my footsteps slow outside the club. The bouncer outside waves at me, and I feel my cheeks heat. He obviously knows me by now. I’ve been by here the past four days. Like clockwork.

“How you doing, boss?” the man calls out.

I should really find out what his name is. It would only be polite.

I straighten my shirt and lift a hand in response. “Good, you?”

“Good, man. Nice night. Could rain later though. Better get back before it does.”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Your boy’s working tonight, just so you know.”

I nod, feeling my cheeks flame to epic proportions. I didn’t come by knowing when Everly was working. I forced myself not to look. And it doesn’t matter anyways. I’m not going inside. Not now and not ever. I’ve already crossed too many lines with him. So many lines that have been obliterated and crushed into dust.

And yet, here I am once more, a glutton for punishment, it seems.

I force my gaze away from the club and continue walking. I need to get a grip, need to behave like a grown man. This is slightly unhinged and most definitely unhealthy, and yet I can’t quite let it slide. I can’t quite let him go.

I walk past a few businesses on my trip home. As I glance in the window of Indelible Ink, I wonder if I should get a few more tattoos added to the ones I already have on my forearm. The little biology symbols, my mom’s favorite book, my dad’s favorite quote. Although, perhaps not. It’s time to grow up and behave like an adult.

A feat I’m not succeeding at right now.

Perhaps it’s been too long since I’ve had someone to come home to, had someone who took an interest in me, or maybe it’s simpler and more base than that. Maybe I just need to get fucked.

And fucked good.

The first raindrop hits me as I make my way down a residential street a few blocks from my townhouse. By the time I arrive home, I’m nearly drenched, my hair dripping water into my eyes.

“Well, fuck,” I say as I enter my place and strip my shirt off. Vertebrata is staring at me through the glass of her fish tank, but when I move toward her, she swims away and hides in her small coral cove.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she hates me.

Maybe she needs a friend too. I should buy her another fish to spend time with.

I peel myself out of my pants and walk to the bathroom where I shower and throw on some sweatpants.

I should just call it a night and go to sleep. But instead, I find myself on my bed with my laptop, pulling up the strip club website, just to get a glimpse of Everly on the front page. It’s just a photo of him stretched out against a pole, oiled up and positively muscular. I pull my dick out of my pants and jack myself to the thought of him.

It’s become a nightly ritual. Edging myself by walking by the club and then coming home and getting myself off to the mere thought of him. I’ve moved past sad and am in just plain depressing territory.

When I’m done, I mop up my cum and lean my head back and sigh.

---