GENRE: Contemporary • Erotic Romance • Fiction • Gay
LENGTH: 65,970 words
It's the early 1980's and Matt is on the cusp of adulthood in the flickering shadows of Los Angeles' Gothic music scene. He dives into a pulsating world of death-rock music, sexy musicians, and strung-out groupies in leather bondage pants and vampire makeup. Through the faded glamour and glittering whirlpool of alcohol and drugs, Matt moves from one good time to the next, searching for something more.
Then he meets Patch: shirtless, tribal-tattooed, wearing cut-off jean shorts still damp from an afternoon at the beach. Patch is a punk-rock Adonis who wears his dark hair spiked up and whose blue eyes are bloodshot from too much late-night fun. Patch doesn’t say much when they first meet, but his body speaks to Matt’s on a cellular level, pure chemistry. To Matt, Patch's tattoos tell him they are part of an invisible tribe, the night people.
But one night is all Matt gets with Patch before he disappears into the neon-washed streets. Matt sets out to find him again, sure Patch is "the One." Along for the ride are his friends Annie and Suzy, one straight, one gay. Wearing too much Aqua-Net and torn fishnets, the girls cruise L.A. in a white Mustang whose seat belts are perfect beer bottle openers. The ultimate Goths, they adore Siouxsie and the Banshees, paint their eyes with kohl, and vow to help Matt in his quest to hook up with Patch.
Will Matt be able to find Patch in L.A.'s drug-soaked clubs? Will one night be all he gets with the man of his dreams? If there's a heaven above, will Matt ever find it?
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.
I sat there for a moment, my head spinning. I felt like a fool, but I didn’t care. Stephan and Mary began making out in earnest. I stared nervously into my plastic cup. I looked up and saw Patch eyeing me.
“Nothing. Didn’t you say there was a bridge around here somewhere?”
“Yeah, it’s just a kid’s play bridge.”
“Where is it?”
“Down the hill a little more.”
“Do you want to go find it?”
“Okay,” I said as Patch got up from the table, catching his black cowboy boot on the bench and almost falling over. My heart was a panicked drum machine thumping out two hundred-twenty beats a minute as I followed him.
We passed beneath a wide canopy of oak trees, their leaves spread against the sky as if they were holding up all that blackness over our heads. We moved downhill towards the playground equipment: a merry-go-round, a slide with some swings, and two tall playhouses connected with a suspension bridge. Patch suddenly ran up and leapfrogged over a teeter-totter. He whirled around with a shout. I brightened up as if a candle had been lit and I suddenly saw what I wanted. I ran up and also leaped over the teeter-totter, landing off-balance a few feet from Patch, who, to my surprise, caught me. Feeling his firm hands on my waist was a wonderful, warm, new security.
Before I could say anything, Patch kissed me.
The sky split open for a moment, the moonlight shone through the low clouds. The white sandbox glowed brightly around us, phosphorescent, glorious. Everything I wanted was in this instant, all the masturbating over glossy magazines in high school, all the wet dreams, and near sexual encounters. His razor stubble grinding my cheek was painful and sweet. I ran my hand through his dark hair. It was damp from sweat and the dewy air. He suddenly pressed his hardening cock against me, as if all his needs were expressed in that unspoken gesture. I could feel it growing, stiff and persistent.
His cock knew what it wanted. All that it told me was the truth.
It was happening too fast.
What am I thinking? This guy is homeless, probably a junkie like Mary.
All I knew was he was kissing me again, his tongue wrapping mine, and there was nothing else in the world tonight.
Then he pulled back.
“Do you want to go up on that bridge?” he asked, his voice low and seductive.
“Why did you just kiss me?” I said, shocked hearing the words leave my mouth uncensored.
“Because I thought you were cute.”
“You looked like you need to be kissed.”
“But do you like guys? I mean, you’re not just drunk and horny?”
“Hasn’t Stephan mentioned things about him and me?”
“What things? You’ve gotten together with him?”
“Yeah, a couple times.”
“He’s never mentioned any of that.”
Patch exhaled. I watched the next breath rise in his muscular chest.
“Do you want to go up to that bridge?”
I did, but I didn’t have a rubber on me, and I was worried about having sex with a strange man without a condom. Not with this new disease, AIDS, all about.
“Sure, let’s go,” I said, instantly regretting my decision.
As he turned he grabbed my hand.
Why am I doing this? Is this some Pagan rite? A chance meeting of this young god, my kneeling and worshipping at the altar of his cock?