Even as we pay the extortionate fee into the nightclub my heart is hammering wildly. It's almost as fast paced as the vibrations coming from inside the building. I know it isn't the same nightclub; not even in the same place. Yet somehow all these sordid places look the same from the outside, complete with their own alleyways and dark hidden places.
"Are you alright," Tim whispers to me out of earshot of the bouncer. I nod with a tight lipped smile. I'd forgotten that he knows. That makes it better in a way.
We enter through a red velvet curtain that smells as though it has seen a lot of stains but never the inside of a washing machine. This part is only the bar and already the music is achingly loud. There are a few groups of young people dotted around the place; lounging on sofas and some of them curled up in other people's laps. It's exactly how it is when I used to go, complete with the lonely, older men watching from the sidelines. Either finding prey or hoping for pity. I'm glad I'm not one of them.
Tim has a tight grip on my hand, finally allowed to express affection publicly. Well, as public as a gay nightclub is. The men along the sides watch us beady-eyed, registering the age difference and practically salivating at the sight of him. He weaves his way through the sparse crowd and the lights are already highlighting the curve of his cheekbones and the shine to his eyes. My stomach twists angrily as heads turn. I never forget the effect he has on me but it's not very often when we go out somewhere that men are the ones looking at him. Women do, all the bloody time. But they have a much more subtle approach that I can steer Tim away from.
I look at him and admire the teenager jeans, black tank top and what I suspect is a a hint of eyeliner. He got ready in the bathroom, no doubt hoping to shock me with his appearance when he came out. He spends most of the time in the flat in baggy jumpers with crumbs down the front of it that he did indeed manage to shock me. He never would have been the type I would have approached when I was younger. He would most definitely have been out of my league. The way he sashays across the dance floor and turns every now and then to give me a cheeky smile. I would never have had the nerve to talk to him. Something about that beauty makes you want to take care of him in a way. Yes, you want to do the most carnal things to that boy but you find yourself needing to possess him. You'll do anything to make sure he sticks around. As much as I would have wanted him if we had been born of the same generation, I would have known not to touch something that beautiful.
Tim turns to smile at me and we weave our way around fouton seats to reach the bar. I hit my shin against one and look down to glare at it and when I look up Tim's path has been intercepted by a heavily tattooed man. He seems old but younger than me and he looks like he's going to be someone I won't like very much.
"Hey gorgeous, what are you doing with Papa Smurf over here," he laughs in my direction. "Ditch him and let me buy you a drink," he says loudly over the music. I'm surprised when Tim doesn't reply and carries on towards the bar with an even tighter grip on my hand. I happily follow him. I'm pleased that he holds at least some kind of possessiveness over me and doesn't have the desire to 'ditch' me at the nearest available offer.
It only takes a fleeting glance at Tim before the bartender hurries over. Perhaps in training they should teach them how to restrain their sexual interest during working hours.
"What can I get for you, darling," the young man asks him with a smile and a furtive glance in my direction. Yes he is with me, I want to tell him. Tim leans his elbows on the, no doubt, sticky bar-top and looks at me coyly.
"Buy me a drink mister?"
I smirk and take out my wallet. It's a nice little fantasy thinking that this is the first time we're meeting but I'm glad I have the assurance that he'll definitely be coming home with me tonight.
"One of whatever beer you have and a coke for him," I nod my head towards Tim as I take out a twenty. If he's going to act like a child he's going to be treated like one. He pouts at me and I look at him challenging him. He tilts his head at me in the way I'm so used to by now before turning back to defy me.
"A vodka and coke," he says to the barman with a smirk. He looks at me a little nervously after he does it. The barman actually looks to me for confirmation so I nod at him. I can feel Tim relax a little next to me. My beer is dumped on the counter in front of me but makes sure to hand Tim his drink personally. Begrudgingly I pay him. What I really want to do is strangle him. It's very satisfying to see that Tim isn't looking at him though. He is asking me if I want to go sit down, his fingers touching lightly at my hipbone as he sips his drink.
I aim to sit at the nearest available table but Tim has other ideas as he drags me over to a little corner settee that is more enclosed. He practically drapes himself over me and his hand is placed just so on my thigh for me to wonder if we can be arrested for public indecency. I suppose that is the point of places like this. You won't be.
He has already gulped down half his drink and he is bold enough to kiss me hungrily. He tastes of cola and toothpaste and there is a thrilling coldness to it. It feels like all eyes in the room are on us and where before I had thought Tim was bringing me somewhere more private now I figure that this is the place that brings the most attention. He pouts when I push him off me and into the red leather of the settee. I have one hand on his chest as I lean in to kiss just below his ear and when I glance up his eyelids flutter slightly at the sensation.
"Do you have any idea what I'm thinking right now," I hiss in his ear, my hand smoothing down his chest, across his stomach and down to the inside of his leg. I feel the rise and fall of his chest as it quickens.
"No, Sir," he replies in a way that goes straight to my groin. He knows what he's doing. He's fucking lethal. The next time one of my students calls me Sir, I swear I'll end up turned on because of him.
"I'm thinking that you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on."
Tim smirks to himself and looks down at his drink. I know why he does that. It's so that when he looks up I'll once again be taken in by the bright green of his eyes and the sweep of his dark lashes. If I looked like that I'd do it too.
"Thank you Professor, that's very kind."
My muscles clench when he says that. He definitely has some sort of fetish for my scholarly abilities. He asked me once to tie him up with the tie I wear to work for board meetings. Well, he didn't really ask. I watched him from the door-frame as he caressed it in his fingers. The smooth silk brushing through his supple hands as he pressed it to his lips. It had been quite a display. At the next board meeting I had been very distracted indeed.
"You should be a model," I tease. "But then everyone would get to look at you. And I'd rather you were all mine," I whisper in his ear and kiss him lightly there. He shivers a little.
"Me," he laughs. "I'm only a lowly writer," he says with a sad pout. "Locked away in an ivory tower."
He says ivory in a strange way to emphasise the presence of my name in it. I lean back and he smiles at me, his fingers finding their way to interlock with mine as he snuggles in close to me.
"I think I might be late with my next assignment, Sir."
He's never really been the best at role-play. He jumps from one thing to the next faster than I can keep up with.
"Why's that," I ask him sternly with my best irate teacher impression. Oh god, I've just made myself think of Martin. What a turn-off. I wonder if Tim still sees him.
"Well, you see," he began teasingly. "My boyfriend wouldn't let me use his computer so I had to write it all by hand and I have a rather unfortunate sexual desire for fossils. It really is quite unfortunate," he insisted with his eyes wide. He lifted his head from my shoulder slightly for further emphasis and his eyebrows knit together in mock concern.
"Boyfriend," I ask.
"One of them," he replies with a cheeky grin.
"How many have you got?"
He ignores that part.
"I mean, it's very embarrassing Doctor Steadman but I know I can trust you. I was so turned on by the mere thought of the fossils that I came all over my work!"
Of all the things I was expecting him to say, I wasn't expecting that. One of the main things I love about him; his unpredictability.
"That is a problem," I reply, finding it hard to keep a straight face. I have no idea how he is doing it. "You must be very sexually frustrated," I advised him.
"I must be," he insisted. "And I really have to pass this module. I mean, what kind of writer would I be if I didn't know my triceratops from my stegosaurus?. Maybe you would be able to help me," he suggests.
"Well we can't have that now can we? I'm sure we can arrange something. I'm always glad to help out such an eager student. Maybe when you-"
"How's it going lads?"
Tim and I look up at the interruption.
"Fine, thanks," I reply icily.
He ignores my steely glare and sits himself on the other side of Tim. Far too close. I can feel my heckles rising. Fuck off right now.
"What are you up to tonight then, boys," he tries as he takes a swig of his beer. He uses the drinking as an opportunity to scan his eyes along my boyfriend.
"Dancing," Tim replies innocently with a soft smile. I can tell he is awkward but he is much more socially inclined than I.
"You better save one for me," the horrible man laughs and places a hand on Tim's knee.
"I'm sure you're quite the dancer. What kind of music are you into? I know the DJ here, maybe I can pull a few strings," he suggests flirtatiously.
"I love opera," Tim smirks. "I doubt they would play that here."
The man pauses for a second.
"No, no, they probably don't."
He looks like he has never more wished that this place played opera.
"Anyway," Tim adds. "We're going to have a look around. See you around."
He nudges me to stand and we hurriedly leave the table. I'm grinning from ear to ear now and all I can think about is when they open the dance-floor and I can have Tim that close to me.
"I love this song," Tim yells happily over the deafening noise. Is this music? Do they play this monstrosity on the radio because I have never heard it in my life. I know that Tim goes to clubs with some friends and must hear it then but now they seem to stick the bar circuit. I can't imagine them playing this in The Stag's Head.
The only time's I've seen Tim dance are at home when he and I are being silly and singing opera at each other. Or the last Valentine's we celebrated when I scooped him into my arms for an awkward slow dance. This was different though. There was something so serious about this type of dancing. As though every fiber of your sexuality has to be expressed through dance or else you would shrivel up and spend the rest of your days in the nunnery.
Now I really looked out of place. My dancing was terrible. It wasn't helping that the person I was standing next to was one of the most watched people in the room right now. The change to the music was subtle, not a word I use to describe the music itself. This was much more demanding in pace and I felt a shiver of electric current run the entire length of my body as I felt Tim place his hands on my hips. It only intensified as I watched him open his legs against me, dropping to the floor in the most sinful manner I have ever witnessed, before slowly pulling himself up to his full height. That boy would definitely never be welcome in a nunnery.
I realised I was staring at him with my mouth open and promptly shut it, placing my hands over his as he stepped closer to me. Things became even less PG as he turns to have his back to me and presses against me. Oh God this is so damn hot. I believe this is what they call 'grinding'. Why haven't we done this before?
All those times Tim wanted me to go out with him and his friends when they go 'dancing'. Has this been what they are doing? I have severely been missing out. Tim is leaning back into me now, his knees bent in a odd way so that he can pout at me for a kiss. Before I have even registered my own movement I am holding him against the nearest wall as I force my tongue into his mouth. How does anyone stay till closing time in these places? Already the crowd has dwindled slightly as couples elope to the bathroom, the alley outside or a predesignated flat.
His whimper sounds pathetic with need and I barely hear it over the deafening roar of bass music. People are definitely watching us now and I get the feeling Tim likes it. Hmm. So voyeurism is his thing? An older man approaches us this time and places a hand on my shoulder. I've already got my fists clenched to punch him if he doesn't take the hint to leave.
"How about you two come back to my flat," he asks without a hint of hesitation. "We'll have fun," he winks at me as his eyes roam up and down my figure and then he glances at Tim as though surprised to see him there. Idiot. It looks like Christmas has come early for him this year. He grins at Tim and actually reaches out to cup his chin; inspecting him. Tim stills and he looks at me.
"Is this one yours," he asks me with jealousy.
"Yes," I reply severely.
"Beautiful," he says dramatically. "Just beautiful. God, look at those eyes."
He leans in closer to Tim to look at his eyes and Tim flinches from him.
"I suggest you leave now," I yell at him but he only smiles at me.
"If I had him, I'd be keeping him close to me too," he laughs as though we are old friends.
"Let me buy you both a drink," he leans in to say in my ear in the most seductive yet creepy manner he can manage.
"No thank you," I reply coldly. Tim looks very confused. I exaggerate looking at the hand he is using to hold Tim's chin and he reluctantly pulls away.
"Shame," the man says sadly. "Well, if you change your mind."
I feel him slip something into my pocket and he leaves his hand there for too long before he finally leaves us alone. I'm guessing he'll still be watching from a hidden corner.
"Looks like you have an admirer," Tim smiles at me with a sort of blurred expression. He slides a little bit down the wall and I struggle to perform the simple math of working out how many drinks he has had. It's more than he has had in a long while to be sure. Maybe I've had a little too much as well. I glance at my watch and see that it is only midnight. Who are these people that stay out until four in the morning. I'm exhausted and Tim looks like he is falling asleep.
"Taxi," I ask him.
He nods.
It takes me two attempts to give the taxi driver the right address and Tim giggles hysterically next to me.
"What's so funny," I ask him.
"N'thin," he mumbles as he rests back against the smooth and cool leather of the backseat.
We kiss in the hallway. Languid and somewhat sloppy. I brush his jawline with my thumb and he has his arms wrapped around my neck. He slides them down and around the pull at the front of my shirt.
Tim toes his shoes off so I do the same. It's slightly uncoordinated and I stumble but Tim has such a tight grip on the front of my shirt that he keeps me upright.
"You're so fucking hot," he groans. It's probably one of the most dirty things I've heard him say and especially when he slurs like that. Tim swears quite a bit when he is angry but surprisingly very little in situations like this. It just makes me think it's a vocabulary he resorts to when all the other words have escaped him.
Faster than should be expected from someone so inebriated, he unbuttons his jeans and I register that he wasn't wearing any underwear. That all too familiar electricity is flowing through my nerve endings again. He turns to face the wall and rests his head on his forearms in front of him.
"Like before," he demands. We've had sex in the hallway on numerous occasions but I know which time he means. That very first time when I took him apart piece by piece. When I wanted to remind him who he belonged to and how I wanted everyone to know it.
I place my hand on his back. He is shaking and I feel more than hear his intake of breath at my touch. It's always as though he never expects any gentleness. I have reminded myself of all the horrible things we've been trying to put out of our minds lately. It's good though. I need to remember it in order to give him what he needs from me.
"Ivo," he whines.
"No, Tim. Not here," I whisper to him. There is a thudding in my ears that makes all sounds seem quite far away. He's turned his head slightly, looking to me for answers. Silently I take his hand and pull him into the bedroom. I close the door softly behind me.