As with many of my stories this is based on a real life encounter, though I've embellished some details for the sake of narrative. All participants are 18 or older.
***
I love art. I love art a lot. Painting, photography, sculpture, design, you name it. The art "scene" however, isn't really my bag. I absolutely relate to the creative process as a writer, actor, and producer, and I have mad respect for people who can execute creativity in ways I can't - musicians, chefs, dancers. I can be enthralled quickly and easily. Artists themselves, however, can be a bit hard to take for long stretches of time. A loft party full of artists, especially here in LA, can be insufferable.
And yet there I was. My friend Jerry asked me to come with him. He's dating an artist named Alice, and it was her birthday. It coincided with a huge art showing and party in the commune-like lofts where she lives and works, one of those old industrial buildings in the Arts District downtown, where factories and assembly lines have been replaced by designer kitchens and polished concrete. It was a gorgeous space, and the music was great, but I was finding it a little hard to connect with people.
Part of that was just my mood lately. I've been overworked and stressed out, and skipped a few days at the gym, which only makes me even more cranky. I'm not a gym rat by any stretch, but I keep in good, not overly worked-out shape. I'm toned, albeit broad shouldered and prone to beefiness, but still most people think I'm lighter than 200 pounds; I carry weight well on my 6'1 frame, and I have a narrow waist but a big ass. I'm fairly happy with my looks - I know I'm objectively good looking without being arrogant about it. Brown hair and green eyes, with a pale Irish complexion that makes me stand out a bit in Los Angeles.
Tonight I knew I looked cute though. I had just gotten, for once, an amazing haircut from a stylist who knew how to work with my cowlicks instead of against them. Trimmed close on the sides but with boyish bangs, I certainly didn't look 36. In the Uber on the way to the party Jerry asked when my boyband's album drops. I was wearing jeans and a blazer with a navy blue v-neck that just hinted at my chest hair. Despite a few days off from the gym I felt good and thought I looked good. I wasn't planning to hook up or anything. Things ended badly with a guy I was seeing who turned out to have a mental health problem which he refused to get treatment for. While I was a voraciously hungry bottom, I felt like I needed some time to get myself together before putting myself out there again.
So tonight was just going to be a fun evening outside my comfort zone. As Jerry's wingman it was understood that I'd at least be someone to talk to and joke with in case Alice was distracted and the crowd skewed heavily toward superficial weirdos. Jerry was a bit of a superficial weirdo himself, but whatever. I was determined to have fun and at the very least soak everything up for comedy fodder afterward.
The size of the place surprised me. Alice's loft building was one of three that share a courtyard, and it looked like there were numerous parties melding into one. There were about 200 people talking, drinking, dancing, smoking, and looking at art. It was quite the scene.
Maybe 15 minutes after we arrived I was sipping a red wine, surveying the crowd, when I spotted a guy who was, quite frankly, one of the sexiest guys I've ever seen in my life. He looked to be around mid-20s. He was shorter than me and thin but more in a lean wiry way than skinny. He looked Latin, or maybe Mediterranean, with longish curly wavy hair, and he was handsome in an offbeat kind of way with a large nose and scruffy facial hair. What drew my attention initially was that he had a really loud, ingratiating, full bodied laugh. I was immediately transfixed - he had a casual ease about him that was super sexy (in retrospect BDE but that wasn't a thing yet). His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show off some chest hair, and the way he moved, even when standing still, just screamed confidence and sex.
Then he glanced in my direction and we made eye contact. I realized I was staring at him and bashfully glanced down. He smiled at me and then went back to talking to his friends.
For the next 90 minutes or so we developed a routine. I'd be talking to people, or getting a drink, or out in the courtyard, I'd look around nonchalantly and BAM we'd make eye contact from a distance, he'd smile at me, and then we'd go back to talking to whoever. The flirting was fun, but I didn't know if he was gay, bi, straight, horny, or just a dude who enjoys winding guys up. I reminded myself I was. Not. There. To hook up. Plus I was a bit intimidated by him. I mean, I felt good about myself tonight but was so bowled over by how completely hot he was that I was like "yeah no that isn't happening, he's out of my league." One more glance - fuck his smile was intoxicating, and he winked this time. Strange, it looked like his shirt lost another button?
I hadn't drank much, maybe 2 glasses of wine, but the environment was so different and I get distracted easily, so I figured I should identify where to take a leak (since the party ran across several lofts, numerous bathrooms were being shared). Jerry was deep in conversation with one of Alice's friends, and I was feeling a bit bored and alone. I briefly considered bumming a smoke from someone. Everyone here was smoking, and I quit 2 years ago, but I was feeling the tug. Honestly I don't know why people think it's hard to quit smoking. I've done it 5 times, it's a piece of cake.
I was walking down the large hallway of one of the main buildings looking for a toilet when I heard a man's voice, raspy but commanding, behind me say, "Hey! Hey bud!"
I turned around and felt the blood rush to my face. Hottie McHotterson himself was trotting down the hall. He smiled but looked concerned. "You're not leaving already are you?"
"Soon probably, but not right this minute. I just needed to catch a break from all the noise in there," I replied.
He caught up to where I was and directed that dazzling grin directly at me, this time in closeup. My stomach fluttered. He stuck his hand out and grabbed mine. "I'm Antonio, you can call me Tony. Or Daddy if you want." I laughed out loud, still gripping his hand; he had a powerful handshake, and he squeezed my shoulder with his other hand. He was even more handsome close up, his gray-blue eyes dazzling. His cologne was subtle but musky. I could feel the strength radiating off him. He clearly spends time in the gym, despite having a slender build.
"In this scenario wouldn't I be daddy?" I chuckled while I asked it. "I'm a bit older than you I think? And I'm bigger than you," I said it while openly taking in the sight of his body up close. If he was going to flirt I was going to serve it right back. "I'm Jonny, by the way."
He laughed and said, "Daddy is a state of mind." Then he leaned in closer to me, raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice. "And I'll bet you're not bigger than me." He winked and smiled. I had to consciously will my lungs to keep breathing.
He put his arm around me and we walked in the same direction. "I'm glad you're not leaving because we needed to meet first!" I felt slightly dazed that this conversation was even happening.
Tony was gently caressing my shoulder and leaned in, speaking quietly, or at least as quietly as he could over the music pumping from outside. "Couldn't stop checking you out. We were really eye fucking in there."
I blushed and stuttered.
He squeezed my shoulder and smiled. "Seemed like you couldn't get enough of me. That made me feel good man! I love when a cute guy makes me feel good."
"Thanks," I said, apropos of nothing. "I mean yeah? Cool." My self-consciousness was getting the better of me.
"You're the cutest guy here, no doubt." He moved my chin with his hand to make eye contact when he said it.
"Thanks. You're hotter though." I blushed.
