BOYS BOYS BOYS

I can't believe I’m doing this. Was I this person? Apparently. My heart begins to pound anxiously and my body starts to get hot. I can feel the rushed blood flow and the humidity in the air, as I look down at the freshly rained cement. The red neon sign of the club reflected in a puddle under my boots. Water rolled off my long gray raincoat, dripping onto the sidewalk. Contemplation and quick reasoning rushing about in my head. Was I crazy for doing this? I had to be.

I look up. I rarely came to this neighborhood because everything and everyone just seemed so pretentious, and by the look of this club, it was no disappointment. The flashy glowing sign that hung in the front window read ‘Boys Boys Boys.’ Charming. The lively sound of muted upbeat music now poured into the street as the front door opened, and three muscular men in opened button-downs stumbled out. The three white men looked indistinguishable from each other at a glance. This place didn’t seem like his thing, but then again, maybe it was.

This was it. Do I go in, do I not go in? At this moment, technically, he was not guilty of any true crime. Perhaps, guilty of going to this tacky and monotone club, but innocent of any major offense. Oh my god, I am crazy. I look into the window and see the bodies, laughing, and drinking, and kissing each other, and there’s still a compulsion. At the back of my mind, something still feels off. I want to trust him, I do, but if I walk in there right now, one of us is going to be hurt. I hesitate. I take a deep breath, calming myself, and I turn around. I want to walk forward, but I’m frozen. The feeling still lingers, prodding at the back of my mind.

Fuck it.

I turn back around. And confidently walk to the door. I am so annoyed with myself. If I don’t do this with conviction then I’m just going to end up turning back around again. I’m here now, I’m going to see this through. If anything, for my peace of mind, and for my sanity– ironically. I will be sure of something, no matter what it may be. I walk up the entrance and put my hand on the handle. Again, I hesitate, only for a moment this time. I open the door.

The loud dance music pierces my ears. What an awful Britney remix. The bouncer sitting on a stool next to the door greets me. I know the drill. I pull out my wallet to show my ID. He glances at it and hands it right back. He politely tells me to enjoy my night. I smile and say thank you. I’m not sure if that’s what's going to happen. The club is packed, nearly body to body. It’s a decent size club and there would be plenty of space if it wasn’t this crowded, I imagine.

I'm jolted. How brazen of me, I totally forgot I’m supposed to be undercover. I lower my baseball cap and adjust my coat, in an attempt to be incognito. How stupid. Where could he be? I scan the room. I don’t mean to judge, but I do not miss the single days of being in a crowded club. And even when I was single, I probably would never come here. It’s seriously lacking diversity, and to top it off, I’ve always been a bad dancer. I feel so awkward, even now.

He would actually blend in here. He's tall and fit, and exceptionally attractive, which I hate. However, he definitely is more melanated compared to the majority of the crowd here. Because he looked the type, you would assume at first interaction with him that he would be a party guy, or a douche, but he wasn’t. And not to say that all attractive people are evil (some aren’t), or that clubbing isn’t valid or that there’s any moral righteousness in not being so. I am just not much of a drinker, and crowded sweaty places give me anxiety, as I thought he similarly felt. So why am I here? He had never brought up wanting to go dancing. He just always seemed so mature, or rather, there was an incredible stillness that radiated from inside him. There was a groundedness that made sense when he said he didn’t 'go out much.’ It was oddly really hot.

I continue to look around. My eyes move across the very back of the club. Suddenly, my heart stops. I would recognize the back of his head anywhere. Those beautiful dark curls. It had to be him. He was moving into a small hallway. There was a small sign directing the location of the bathrooms. He seemed to be alone. What should I do? Should I follow him, wait for him? He hasn’t done anything. He did lie. But why? Oh my god, I’m out of my mind. I see the white light of an open door shine onto his face. I lose my breath. It’s him. He’s so pretty, damnit. He seemed focused. I force air through my lips. Okay. I won't let him see me, but I’m gonna stay close and watch what he does.

I quickly rush through the crowd, rotating my torso to maneuver around the people. I get to the corner before the hallway, and there’s surprisingly no one waiting for the bathrooms. I peer around, and even odder as I look now, all the doors to the bathroom are cracked open. They weren’t in use. How strange. I carefully approach each one and quickly glance in, only seeing empty and dirty restrooms. How could that be? There was another door, shut, because it read on the door, ‘Employees Only.’ There was no way.

Is this where I begin to get answers? What possible reason could he have to be going through this door? A secret side job? No, he was wealthy, or appeared to be so. I’m not so sure now, I’m starting to question everything I think I know. A secret rendezvous with an employee, a lover? Possibly. My hand once again is gripping a handle to another door to open, only senidng me further and further down this ridiculous rabbit hole. I hesitate, but I open the door slowly.

To my surprise, there were stairs leading into the basement level. Poetic. I look around to see if anyone is paying attention. Of course not. I begin to descend the stairs. I stop far enough down to be able to look below the ceiling line, just in case he is right there. On the left, there’s only a few feet of basement before a stack of boxes line a wall. I turn my head to the other side and the long room appears to bend into another hall perpendicularly. But more importantly, no boyfriend. I continue walking down the stairs and onto the smooth concrete floor.

I stand there, confused. I thought I would be hearing the disgusting melody of moans and giggles, a dramatic discovery from this dramatic situation. Instead, all I hear is muted music and the drip of a leaky pipe somewhere above the sewer lines on the ceiling. It’s humid, and it smells damp. The fluorescent lights dimly light the quiet basement. I feel like I’m too far along to stop now, especially now that this is not at all what it seems. So I curiously walk to the end of the room, walking lightly and aware of each foot step. I come to the corner of this hallway, my back to the wall. I look up. I’m so ridiculous, snooping around, tip-toeing around like a spy. But I need to know. I slowly peek from behind the wall.

Shit. I flinch, my heart skips a beat. There’s a tall man in a suit standing next to a large metal door at the end of a shockingly long hall. I quickly move back around the shield of the wall.

"You there.” He spoke calmly, his deep accented voice echoed down the corridor.

Damnit. Maybe I can just leave. What to do, what to do. This was clearly the entrance to a speakeasy, and he clearly went through this door. All the options and scenarios flash through my head. There’s only one real option now. I hope there’s not a cover. I exhale deeply, and attempt to put a polite expression on my confused face. I come around the corner and start walking down the hallway.

The man stood with his hands together in front of him. He was oddly wearing sunglasses and was in a very clean and tidy suit. It was very Men In Black. The metal door looked like the door to an industrial walk-in fridge. Red glowing fluorescent light rods were mounted on the wall, framing the door. It was getting odder the more I observed what awaited at the end. The walls and even the floor were all painted white. They were smooth, not even cement the more I looked. I smile awkwardly at the man. His straight face unwavering. I stop just in front of him, and I have to slightly look up. What do I say, what do I say?

I swallow,

"Hi. I was, um, meeting a friend–”

"Password.” He interrupted.

It's this kind of place. I can’t find any words. How do I lie? What should I say? My heart starts to race.

"Um, password?” Really, that's it?

Towering over me, he moves his head slowly down to me, his eyes slightly revealed to me from behind his blackout lenses. I try not to react. His eyes were the most vibrant pale blue. So light and so piercing, and so weird that they reminded me of his eyes. They looked just like that, frightening and beautiful.

"Password.” He repeated, calmly.

I quickly pulled myself together, realizing my mouth was slightly hanging open. I shake my head. A password. It could be anything. How do I play this off? An inaudible sound leaves my mouth, struggling to form sentences. Wait. Could it be? There’s no way. The envelope.

"Morning star.” I say with obvious uncertainty.

The man raised his head back level, and unfolded his hands to reach for the door handle. It worked. This was unreal. I smile, but his face doesn’t change. He opened the heavy door with zero effort. I glance at his hands pulling on the handle. His fingernails were scarily long, they had to be nearly two inches at least, and perfected into a dangerous point. Weirder and weirder.

As confused I was, for some reason, excitement was equally filling my body. It probably was adrenaline or something. I’m terrible. This wasn’t the first time I had been a sleuth, and my previous untrustworthiness paid off in this moment. The opened envelope I found on his desk yesterday was clearly connected to this unbelievable situation I’ve put myself in. But this is truly his fault that I’m here. He’s the one keeping things from me, and creeping around behind my back, or whatever this was. The unmarked envelope had a heavy weight note card with one word. In actual ink writing, that I remembered thinking was a little extra, just said ‘morning star.’

I didn’t think too much of it past the initial oddness. So to my surprise, it allowed me access into this shady joint underneath some dumb club in the middle of the night. What the hell. The door opened and a small box, a vestibule, enclosed in thick red velvet curtains, appeared behind the door. I hear the voices of people, a lot of people, laughing and talking. I turned to look at the man, and he stared back. I suppose I should go through now. As I step forward, my heart beats faster and faster. The man closes the door behind me as I step into the entrance. And for a moment, I’m in darkness. Small peaks of light come through lapses in the curtain in front of me. Music is playing and it sounds like a lively event, but much different than the scene above them. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before opening the curtain.

I’m immediately taken aback. It was a lavish and sexy lounge. Red velvet flooded the room. The walls and furniture were dripping in this deep blood red in this low ceiling, dimly lit speakeasy. It was ornate and decadent, and smelled good. There were seats and tables and multiple bars, and more noticeable, attractive and beautiful people everywhere. People of all different presentation and aesthetic draped in the room. It all screamed money, opulence, and power. I immediately become aware of myself, and my wet clothes. I’m not sure which venue I would have been more surprised to see him in. Above or below? I was speechless.

I take a step forward, slowly making my way into the room. It was such a seductive atmosphere. These glamorous people soaked each other up. There were dancers, men and women and everything in between. Some clothed, some naked, I was taken aback for a moment. I’d seen my share of half naked men dancing so it wasn’t too surprising. The music was steadily playing a darker and heavy euro-beat, loud enough to enjoy but quiet enough to talk at a mostly regular decibel. I am so out of place. I had never been in a space like this. This is where he wanted to go?

As my eyes curiously move all over the room, I realize now that I’m catching the eyes of multiple patrons. I’m looking from side to side at others, and it really was happening. I do obviously stick out in this particular crowd. I’m wearing a tee shirt and jeans with a cap on, and it's obviously not designer. Wait. Their eyes. I don't believe it. Some are also wearing sunglasses, but the ones that are not also have these glowing blue eyes. What the hell? What cult is this? And it's not the entertainment, just our wealthy party goers. Maybe it’s a facebook group community? “Sexy Crazy Blue Eyed Aristocrats?”

Nerves slowly turn into anxiety, and almost fear, I don’t know why. I’m not going to look anymore. I just keep my eyes forward and walk to the bar closest to me. Lit shelves of bottles cover the entire brick wall. Beautiful stools stood empty with no one grabbing a drink at the moment. There’s one bartender. Cute. He had a white collared shirt with his sleeves rolled up, black vest buttoned. His dark blonde hair was perfectly set and combed to the side. He was wiping down a wet rocks glass. I’ll be bold and approach him.

“Hi, sorry,” I say walking up to the counter. “Can I ask–”

He looks up at me, and I flinch again. The bartender’s eyes are the same scary blue. He smiles at me, his lips sideways. He is very attractive, actually. His perfect skin almost shined, he looked so ageless. Not a wrinkle. He definitely was in his late twenties, but he somehow seemed older, but not physically. It’s hard to explain. He just continues to smile at me. Wait. Oh my god, he’s waiting for me, I’m just staring at him,

“Sorry, um,” I shake my head, “This is gonna sound really random but do you know if–”

“Samson Vaelon.” My eyes widened. “You’re here for him.” He calmly said, reading my mind.

I try not to show how stunned I am,

“Um, yes. Actually. How did you–”

“You look like his type.” He smiled, inoffensively.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? I glitch. I don’t know what to say, or what that means. Does he do this often? The bartender knows him, so obviously he has to. Is he cheating? I’m so confused. I swallow,

“Um okay.” I pause. I need to get it together. “Is Sam– Samson here tonight?”

The bartender puts the glass down, and leans in forward, his palms on the edge of the counter. His face slowly changes,

“I am not necessarily at liberty to answer that.” He’s being coy. “Who are you to him?”

A fire is starting to light inside me. Jealousy. Why is he here? I immediately want to respond, but I don’t want to seem crazy. My heart is pounding. I need to relax. I take a breath,

"I am his boyfriend.” I say with faux confidence.

He looks me up and down slowly. Not condescendingly, but perhaps, with desire? He smiles. It’s sexy. He looks at me again, for sure now with lustful beautiful eyes. My face flushes. He can sense my nervousness,

"Of course you are. He only likes the prettiest of things it seems.”

I can feel the energy he’s pushing towards me. The particles between us began to vibrate. It’s tangible. He’s so damn sexy. He’s just looking at me, and I’m swimming in his eyes. Wait, what am I saying? What does that mean? I need to find Sam. I shake my head.

"Thanks for that very weird compliment. Um. So where can I find Sam?”

The bartender straightened back up, his face almost disappointed at first. It quickly changes back to his charming, handsome, seductive face. Oh my god, what. He tilts his head over to his left. He smiles again,

"We have our private lounges in the back. You will find him there.” He smiles.

I look over towards the direction he gestured to. On the back wall, the brick cut out an arched opening, and I could see a red curtain lined hall. Great, that can’t be good. I turn back around to thank the bartender. I open my lips but he was quicker,

"If you do not find him, you’re more than welcome back here.” He stared those glowing pale eyes right into mine. The hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I clear my throat,

"I, um– thank you. I guess.”

I quickly turn my head around, I don’t want to be caught up a moment longer. I start waking for the entrance to these insinuated sex rooms. From what the bartender divulged, as cryptic as it was, seemed to be answers of sorts. Sam comes here often enough that the bartender not only remembers his name, but also knows his type. He has a type? What the hell? That fire in my body starts to burn. I can’t believe this is happening. I walk into the hallway.

Above the narrow hall, a strip of fluorescent red lights illuminate the corridor in a ruby filter. They really love a red moment. A wall on the right, and private booths on the left, protected by these crimson velvet curtains. There seemed to be eight booths, maybe ten, and a black exit door at the end. Okay, now which one has my cheating boyfriend? I can hear whispers and people talking, giggling, moaning, but I can't hear him. I can’t make much out. I’m going to have to walk down and maybe peep into each one like a pervert. Oh my god, this is insane. I shouldn’t be here. I should go. My chest feels tight. No. I need to know now. I have to know. I hesitate. But I take a step forward.

I move one foot in front of the other, slowly. My heart starts pounding faster. My anxiety starts to force my hands to shake. I walk up to the edge of the first booth. People are inside. I hear two voices, but not clearly. I take a deep breath to try to relax. I need to calm down. I reach my hand out slowly for the end of the curtain, it's trembling. I just need enough to peek through, just for a moment. I swallow hard, I close my eyes. I can do this.

"Samson.”

I jump. Shit. I turn around quickly. No one here. I wasn’t caught, but someone said his name. It was quiet, but I for sure heard it. It came from farther down. I take another deep breath, and continue slowly down. I carefully walk, trying to be as stealth as I can. One of the curtains at the end moves, movement coming from inside the booth. Could that be the one? I walk a little faster to the chosen booth. I’m staring at the curtain to be sure I don’t lose track of it. Suddenly there's a splash that makes an obvious sound from under me. I halt. Damn these leaky basements. I hope no one heard that. I clench my jaw, and look down.

I'm standing in a small puddle of dark liquid. It’s hard to tell, the red light obscures everything. It’s almost disorienting. I look harder at it, moving my boots slightly in it. It’s– it’s thick? My eyes follow the pooling puddle up the step into the booth next to me. The curtains shielding the private seats meet just at the floor, less than an inch of space between them. This liquid is slowly pouring out from under the curtain and onto the cement floor under my shoes. Oh my god. My mind starts going to really bad places. There’s no way. It keeps slowly, viscously, growing on the ground. This can’t be what I think it is. I can feel each beat of my heart.

I slowly squat down to get a better look. My hand trembles as I go for the liquid. Stop. Why do I need to touch it? I should stop. I don’t know why I’m compelled to touch it. Do I really need to know? My fingers hover over the liquid around my boots. I hesitate. Don’t do it. I swallow. My fingers move for it. Immediately, I lose the air in my lungs. My heart drops. It’s warm. My mouth hangs open. It’s fucking warm. I look at the scarlet liquid on my finger. I shouldn’t be here. Laughing jolts me into the present. I almost lost my balance. I stabilize myself and put my hand on a piece of wall between booths.

"Samson rarely does this now.” A woman spoke. I shot back up. It was four booths down. Who is she, who is that? Sam is with her. I slowly walk over. Their voices lower back into the inaudible chatter of the hallway, until I am standing right in front of the curtain. I swear I’m going to have a heart attack. My chest hurts. I feel like you could see my heart pushing out of my chest. There’s a lump in my throat now, I keep swallowing. I lean my ear closer to the curtain.

"Like I said, it really is an honor Mr. Vaelon.” A man. A really thirsty man. So there’s three people behind this curtain. Some random lady, this slutty guy, and my boyfriend. I didn’t think threesomes were his thing, but then again I didn’t expect any of this. I need to see. But what if he sees me? Well good, He'll see me catch him in the act. I have to see. I lift my feet so slowly to adjust myself to the edge of their booth. There’s a small gap in the curtain.

I move my face to peer in. The light of a candle inside the booth hits my eyes. And there he is. Sam. I lose my breath. My stomach ties in a knot. His dumb and beautiful brown face and all. He’s sitting down, the woman is on his right. I can’t see her really, I just see long blonde hair next to his face. The guy is standing in front of him, his back to me. Move. I see Sam’s face again. His dark curly hair, styled perfectly. A curl dripping onto his forehead above those thick perfect eyebrows. Those haunting eyes. His facial hair he hated but I loved was perfectly manicured, blanketing his square jaw. God he’s beautiful. He looked– concerned? Oh, he feels bad for cheating? Go to hell.

"Are you sure you really want to do this?” Sam asked the guy.

Oh? He really is concerned. For this guy. So it’s this twink’s first time, and not Sam’s? Is that what I’m gathering? Gross. The knot grows in my stomach. This is unbelievable. But I keep watching. I can’t stop.

"I’m here to serve you.” He happily replied. Slut. A dom and sub thing I see, Great. Samson just nods. I can’t believe he’s doing this.

"Samson.” The woman spoke. “Please.” She said, almost offering? What the hell. Yeah, c’mon Samson. Do it. Kiss him. Kiss him so I can catch you already. I want to go. I want this to be over. He’s just staring at the guy, hesitant almost. Yeah, that’s right you have a boyfriend. I’m right here you piece of–

His eyes suddenly change, the pale blue quickly bleeds into red. Red eyes. He grabs onto the man and opens his mouth. It stretches scarily wider than normal. His teeth! Fangs! Vampire! He lunges his face into the man’s neck, biting down! Blood gushes into the air, painting Sam’s face!

Oh my god!

I fly backwards, throwing myself onto the ground. What the fuck?! I let out an involuntary scream. Oh my god oh my god oh my god!

I crawl backwards, hitting the brick wall behind me. I want to vomit. My heart is bursting out of my chest. I can’t breathe. I’m gasping for air.

"Jay?”

He knows it's me. Shit! He opens the curtain, pushing it to the side. I still can’t breathe. I immediately see the man laid lifeless on top of the table in the middle of the booth. Soaked. He– he’s dead. There’s blood dripping off the table and onto the booth floor. The blonde woman was standing up from her seat, drops of blood on her face. There’s a shadow over me. I slowly move my eyes over. I’m trying to find the air. And there he stood, in front of his crime. Sam. His blazer wet, and his face splattered with blood. The red light enveloped his body, as the dark liquid covered his dripping mouth. He looked mortified. Surprsied. But not more than me. I stare in horror, unable to move. My eyes fill with tears of fear. I’m shaking. I look down the hall and people are looking from out of their booths. Calmly. Oh my god, what is this place?

"Jay. Jay, it’s okay.” He was speaking calmly and slowly, like he always did. But even now? He takes a step over to me.

"Don’t come any closer!” I manage to say, throwing my hand out.

He stopped,

"Jay, please. Let me explain. Please.” His voice was easy and empathetic, calming.

I couldn't speak. What is happening? This was a bad idea. What did I get myself into? Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

He looked at me with sad eyes,

"Jay, you’re shaking.” He squatted down. I flinch. “I’m not going to hurt you, my love.”

The woman spoke almost excitedly,

"Samson, is this–”

"Quiet.” He spoke scarily stern, and slowly, without looking at the women. She immediately stopped, and put her head down. I still couldn't move. I was breathing heavily now. I didn’t realize I was sweating. I couldn’t help but stare at him. His beautiful and terrifying eyes looked right back, as the blue began to return. My lips parted to speak,

"Sam– I don’t, I–” I struggled.

"Jay, you are okay. I would never harm you. Everything is alright. Everything will be okay.”

His eyes pierced into my soul. He is such a vision. “I have some explaining to do.” His lips moved, his bloody fangs bared, as his face formed a soothing and perfect smile. That gorgeous face. He moved his hand to caress the side of my face, his palm touching my neck. Oh, his skin on mine. I finally could breathe. Those stunning blue eyes warmed my insides.

He is so beautiful.