Page 62 of Backstage

Why not? I need distraction after all, and maybe this is just the thing. Evening out with my friends and easy women, since Loretta isn’t around. With the right amount of alcohol to relax me, sounds like a great plan. “If Thomas doesn’t start lecturing me about who and how I should fuck, that’s fine by me,” I threaten him with my eyes.

My friend raises his hands in surrender and shakes his head. “Do what you want. It’s your life. Just don’t come crying to me,” he says, shrugging his shoulders and leaving with Michael.

I don’t know why, but this statement leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth that annoys me. I swallow it down and follow them out of the studio, but not before I take one last look at Lilly, who seems to be on the edge of tolerance. A smile appears on my lips when I imagine this scene when she can’t stand that idiot photographer anymore. I wish I was here just to see his horrified reaction when she goes out of her mind and marches out of the room.

*

The club is typical of many here in Boston: dark, loud music and a bunch of tipsy people dancing, oblivious to what’s happening around them. It’s the perfect place for us to discreetly sneak in through the back door and up to the private area upstairs, escorted by a couple of huge bouncers. They’re bigger than me, which is saying a lot.

“Jesus Christ, I thought my head was gonna be crushed against the wall when I accidentally bumped into his back,” sighs Michael as the two guys return to staking out the private entrance.

Thomas and I burst out laughing, genuinely frightened. It’s no coincidence they’re guarding the private area entrance, keeping out those who try to sneak upstairs without reservations. Which would be very difficult tonight as Michael has booked half the room. Actually, it’s not really a room, but a circular terrace that overlooks the downstairs club dance floor. The music pumps from the speakers in front of us, and the leather sofas line the outside walls so the people downstairs can’t see who’s up here. On the other side of the club, the tables are busy in front of us; some girls are dancing, but apparently, they’re not particularly interested in us. After all, if you have the kind of money to book a corner of this place, seeing a famous person is not news.

The waitress brings us a bucket with ice and a bottle of champagne. It’s not my favorite drink, but it’s what you get when you book these places, and I’m not complaining. She notices us, widens her eyes for a few seconds when she recognizes us, but then composes herself and discreetly walks away, as is required by her job.

“Have you decided when you’re going to fuck her yet?” Thomas laughs.

I watch her go away in that little black dress that hugs her toned body, her blond hair falling in perfect waves on her back, her butt swaying under the thrust of high heels, and those fake breasts that, unfortunately, I can recognize before I even put my hands on them.

“I need to relax for now,” I say, picking up the bottle and pouring three glasses.

Thomas looks at me thoughtfully but has the foresight not to say anything. Michael, meanwhile, beckons the waitress again and orders a bottle of whisky.

“I have a feeling you’ll need something stronger than champagne to get her. You didn’t seem too impressed when you looked at her,” he grinned.

Too bad. I have no idea what’s happening to me since I had no reaction below the belt. Usually, when a beautiful girl shows up in front of me, even if she’s not exactly my type, it affects me, at least physically, but tonight seems to be a dry spell between my legs. No sign of life, nothing, not even a drop of blood that would accidentally take that road. Maybe if I go over there and touch what she has to give me, it’ll change.

I get up, catch up with the waitress, and approach her with a smile. She does the same, and I realize up close she’s not that beautiful. I concentrate on her body, because that’s what I need for a good fuck, right? “Is there a place where we can be alone for a while...you know, to talk?” I’ve noticed that being shy often gets you more than acting determined. Women love a vulnerable man, especially when accompanied by a rude look. It’s like saying, “Look, I’m dropping the bad boy mask just for you,” and they open doors you didn’t even know existed.

She beckons me to follow her and pulls me into the staff room that locks when we enter. It’s a mostly bare room with a row of lockers, two chairs, and a worn-out sofa on which the girl pushes me without even saying a word. That’s fine with me, especially when I’m sitting astride her and the dress reveals a pair of black lace panties that...tell me absolutely nothing. She sticks her tongue in my mouth and it tastes like cigarettes and chewing gum, not exactly the best flavor I’ve ever had. Not like Lilly after she’s had a cup of milk and cereal in the morning. That awakens all my senses. Down there, though, it doesn’t seem to have any effect. I almost suspect that my penis was stolen from me tonight, and I didn’t notice it.

I put my hands on her ass, too skinny for me, then on her fake breasts. I gently push her away. “No, it’s not working, I’m sorry,” I tell her by sliding her next to me on the couch.

“Did I do something wrong?” There’s fear in her tone.

Even her whiny voice annoys me. “No, really, it’s not my night.” I try to be as honest as I can. After all, it’s not her fault I can’t get laid here in this bare, smelly place.

I open the door and take long steps towards the sofa, with a feeling of disbelief, irritation, and even humiliation that twists my insides and leaves me breathless.

“Well, that was quick!” Michael raises an eyebrow while Thomas watches me, perplexed.

They’re not joking around, maybe because my face is dark, and you can tell from a mile away that I wouldn’t take it well. They look worried, but I say nothing. I pour myself some whisky and take a sip without appreciating the taste.

“It didn’t even get up, did it?” Thomas asks me when he realizes what really happened in that room. I don’t say anything, just strike him down with a glance. “Why don’t you just admit that you’ve fallen in love with her? For Christ’s sake, can’t you see you can’t stay away from her?” he scolds, sipping from his glass.

“Don’t even go down that road. You know I don’t even want to argue about it,” I hiss in my teeth.

“You’re not your father, Damian. You never were,” his tone is calm, serious, like he actually believes what he’s saying.

I don’t believe him. I know what I might be capable of, and I don’t even want to go down that road. I want to avoid it for the rest of my life. I’ve been doing it for twenty-five years, and I’m gonna keep doing it. “It’s not true. I’m his son, he’s a part of me. I can’t help it.”

“You stay away from her to protect her. That already proves you’re not like your father,” Michael says, pouring himself a glass of whisky.

I remain silent, brooding over their words.

*

I enter the hotel from the garage, taking the stairs not the elevator, which is occupied. I left Thomas and Michael at the club to have fun and brought my bad mood back here before it ruined the evening for them too. I walk into the hall and find her there, squeezed into a pair of jeans that cling to her shape and a white silk tank top that falls softly to enhance her perfect breasts. The mere sight of her glasses awakens in me an unprecedented erection.

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