Chapter Text
Flashing lights, the smell of sweat, and alcohol, and spit mingling together. Filthy grinding, leaving no space between bodies. It was all mixing together in Daniel’s brain, like a distasteful cocktail you force yourself to swallow down only for the effects.
This bar wasn’t one Daniel would personally pick as a first visit. It wasn’t that it defied his tastes, he had spent great nights at this particular spot. There was really only one reason he avoided the place, and the reason was standing a few feet away from him, grinding on a handsome man, with a mixed slurry of alcohol in her hand.
Was Daniel being particularly cruel towards himself by visiting the bar Alice frequented every weekend? Maybe. But he needed a distraction. Only a day had passed since the phone call between him and Amadeo had ended, and Daniel couldn’t get him out of his head. During the hour-and-fifteen-minutes he had spent talking to Amadeo, it was as if something had kept him in the chair, fingers tight around the telephone. As if the telephone wires transferring their voices to one another had wound themselves so tight around Daniel, he could barely get blood to his brain.
Take one thing occupying his mind and replace it with the other. His ex-girlfriend. Daniel leaned up against a wall, resting his head back for a second to catch his breath. He wasn’t nearly intoxicated enough to handle the sight of her with another man. It was either this, or admitting to himself that he wanted to revisit the phone operator.
He pushed himself off of the wall, making a beeline towards the bar. Bumping into the crowd, he avoided keeping his eyes on Alice for too long, fearing she’d spot him and make eye contact. She didn’t hate him, he knew that, but the wounds their last argument had caused were still too fresh in both of their minds.
Arriving at the bar, the bartender was quick to recognise him. “Molloy! Haven’t seen you here in a while, what can I get you?” Daniel was honestly surprised the bartender remembered his name, because Daniel wouldn’t be able to remember his under gunpoint.
“Hey, uh, a grasshopper, thanks.” The bartender nodded and sought a cocktail shaker from underneath the bar. Ice, an ounce of crème de menthe, an ounce of crème de cacao, and cream. Daniel watched intently as the bartended slammed the shaker shut, and raised it up, hands bent, firmly clasped around the metal.
Daniel utilized the moment to turn his head around, eyeing Alice. She was bent over a table now, deep in conversation with the man she had been dancing with. Her high-waisted black shorts framed her behind, and Daniel had to snap his eyes away before his thoughts went somewhere they weren’t supposed to go.
God, get a grip, you perv.
When he faced the bartender again, his drink was ready, shaken and minty-green on the table, garnished with a mint leaf. He slid some cash into the bartender’s awaiting hands, and pushed himself away from the bar, drink in hand.
“Thanks, see you around.” As if he would be returning to this bar. As if this wasn’t some weird form of self-flagellation. He took small sips of his cocktail as he made his way through the center of the bar, seeking out a seat near the back where he could wallow in peace. Most of the booths near the back were taken, sleazy men and ill-clad girls talking and getting handsy. He wished he were in the mood to sit by a random group of strangers, but he scouted out the only empty booth and took a seat.
Once seated, he looked for Alice once more. He’d tell himself it wasn’t on purpose, but he’d be lying. Her dark hair was up, in a loose ponytail, exposing her neck. He liked her hair like that. She knew he liked her hair like that. He wondered if the handsome stranger accompanying her liked her hair like that, or if he liked it loose, wild and flowing in the wind, or laid up against a pillow. Maybe he liked it braided. Tugged and tousled, perhaps.
His expression soured. Daniel felt incredibly blank. This wasn’t fun. He wasn’t entertaining himself at all. He didn’t want to spend his night wondering if that man fucked her better than he ever did. Why did he pity himself so much?
“You got a thing for that chick over there?” Daniel snapped out of his staring, not having noticed that a woman had taken a seat across from him in the booth. He faced her, sized her up.
Blonde, short bob, deep-set brown eyes, pink lips snug around a cigarette, clad in a large afghan coat and a navy blouse. Pretty cute. Looked no older than twenty-two. Daniel put on his best smile.
He gestured in the direction of Alice. “Her? She’s, uh…”
“An ex?” The woman supplied.
“Something like that.”
The woman reached into a pocket on her coat, and slammed a box of Newports and a lighter onto the table. She held her own cigarette in between dainty, painted fingers, and exhaled a small cloud of smoke into the air.
“Want one?”
Daniel’s eyes flickered between the pack and her face, before nodding and grabbing the box off of the table. Once he’d placed a cigarette in between his lips and flicked it lit, they settled into conversation.
“You got a name?” She asked.
“Daniel, you?”
“Catherine, or Cathy.” Her mouth formed a smile around her name. Very cute. Maybe this night wouldn’t end as horridly as he expected it to. He could feel her raise her thin feet under the table, resting them on the cushion of the bench Daniel sat on, her platforms slightly nudging against Daniel’s thigh.
“What’s got you sulking here all alone, a cute guy like you? Your ex, or what?”
“Kinda. Not entirely. I needed to distract myself from something I did.”
She chuckled and placed her elbows onto the table, leaning forward. “What, you got some fucked up secret? Are you a hitman? Serial killer?” Her playful humour was distraction enough, Daniel thought.
He shook his head.
“No? Male hooker? Killed your pimp after years of abuse?” Daniel let out a gasp of surprise, playing along with Cathy’s game.
“You caught me. He beat me too hard one night, so I popped a bullet in his brain. I’m on the run from the cops now. But no, it’s nothing like that. I just… made a phone call I shouldn’t have made last night.”
After laughing for a second at his reply, she raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean? Did you call up an ex? Did you call her up?” She pointed with her cigarette in the direction of Alice. Daniel’s eyes widened at the suggestion.
“No!” He hastily replied, and he could feel her shoes nudge him slightly.
“Then what? It can’t be that bad, c’mon. I’m a stranger, maybe you’ll feel better after telling somebody.” She exhaled one last time, before crushing her cigarette against the ashtray on the table.
Daniel sighed. She was right, he probably would feel better. It wasn’t as if calling up a sex operator was some abhorrent crime, it was just a bit embarassing. But then again, what were the chances of him and this Cathy meeting again? He took two rapid drags of his cigarette, exhaling the smog into the air.
“I called a sex operator. There. That’s it.” Although he hadn’t said much, he still felt she was right. Saying it to someone felt like dropping a weight off of his shoulders.
There was a beat of silence between them, and Daniel could see her face twist into a confused look.
“That’s it? Don’t most guys do that at least once?” She let out a small laugh, and stole a sip of Daniel’s grasshopper, her painted pink lips leaving a stain on the rim of the glass.
“I mean… sure. But it wasn’t a normal sex operator.” Her feminine hands came to rest under her chin, as she tilted her head sideways a little, questioning where Daniel’s sentence was going.
“It was a man, and I got really into it. Like, really into it.” Sigh. He’d said it, and now she was going to stand up, call him a queer, and leave him in a worse mood than before. He could see it play out in his head, like a film reel. But in a shocking turn of events to Daniel, her confused look turned catty, excited even.
“You a homophile, then? Hot.” That wasn’t what Daniel had expected her to say, and God, he felt relieved, but then he pondered her question. He didn’t know how to reply. As he’d affirmed himself the night before, he wasn’t gay per-se, but he had certainly had his… experiences. Sucked cock for a baggie of cocaine, fooled around with boys, secret make-outs in high-school supply closets. But he certainly liked women, liked firm tits and a feminine figure. Painted lips and skimpy dresses. Maybe just a little queer then.
“I don’t know, really. I’ve never felt like I felt last night, talking to that sex operator. It was… weird.” His hands fidgeted with each other on top of the table, fingernails catching onto cuticles. Relief had washed over him as soon as she had replied, but he still felt awkward, having admitted to it. He also didn’t know how to explain the feelings he had felt towards Amadeo without sounding like a lunatic.
“What do you mean?” Cathy’s mouth pursed in confusion. Honestly, Daniel didn’t know what he meant. It was if Amadeo had formed some sort of mind-based connection between the two of them, something that kept Daniel thinking of him, kept tempting Daniel to call again. Amadeo had made Daniel feel more understood than ever before. It was eerie. But, sadly, also comforting.
Daniel looked to the side, in the direction of the bathroom. Should he make a run for it? Ditch the conversation, the potential fuck? “I don’t know how to explain it… I’m gonna, uh…”, yeah, he was going to make a run for it, before he made a fool of himself.
“I’m gonna piss real quick, yeah?” Cathy’s almond-shaped eyes blinked as she nodded in acknowledgement, and Daniel rushed to his feet and sped towards the shabby swing-door of the men’s bathroom, leaving his grasshopper behind. Somehow, the conversation had steered in a direction he really had wanted to avoid. Alice was barely even present in his thoughts, which funnily enough, was the opposite of what he wanted, and he needed to clear his mind somehow.
Pushing open the door, he was met with a pale, scrawny, and tall man, hunched over one of the sinks. When his upper body straightened up, he let out a sigh, and then a sniffle, and Daniel could see faint white dust caked on his upper lip and philtrum.
Score!
Cocaine was exactly what Daniel needed to distract himself, forget the fuck-up that had been last night, and sink into a comforting high. He smirked and crossed the bathroom floor, a swing in his step.
“Hey man, you got some of that I can have?” Daniel said, and licked his lips as the other man’s eyes met his own. He wasn’t scared of getting on his knees for drugs, even if the man in question had greasy, shoulder-length hair and smelled like utter shit. Most guys up for sharing looked like that. Desperate for sexual gratification, perhaps. It wasn’t as if Daniel liked to do it, but… there was some sort of satisfaction he gained from it.
“What’re you offering in return? Got some of your own stuff?” His voice was low, raspy, and slurred. A bit difficult to understand.
“No, but I’m told I’m quite good with my mouth, you get me?” There was no way the guy would say no, and Daniel was adamant on the night ending better than it had started, so he pulled all of his tricks, and started snaking his hand towards the man’s chest, flirtatiously.
The man thought for a moment, considering Daniel’s words, and then suddenly looked at him like he’d grown two heads, very visibly upset. His entire body turned until it faced Daniel, and he took a step closer.
“The fuck do you think I am? I’m not a fucking fag!” His voice got steadily angrier, and his words more slurred, the cocaine lighting up his brain and exaggerating all reactions tenfold. Daniel felt his blood run ice-cold.
A skinny finger pointed at Daniel’s face, and Daniel backed up against the door as the man kept moving towards him. This had never happened, and fuck , it was scaring Daniel. What if the guy was going to beat him up? Kick his teeth in and leave him bleeding on the bathroom floor? He clenched his clammy hands and bolted out of the bathroom, straight towards the exit of the bar.
He could hear the man follow him, angrily yelling in his direction, and Daniel almost tripped over the hem of his pants in fear. His nerves were on fire, adrenaline pumping through his body as he ran. There had to be some way to lose the guy, he couldn’t run all the way to his apartment from here. It wasn’t wise to let the man know where he lived, anyway.
Daniel had almost lost all hope of the guy stopping, the cocaine clearly keeping him wide awake and tweaked enough to chase him for way longer than Daniel could go on for. He was about to give up, and let himself be slammed into the ground, when a hand grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him into a narrow alleyway, harshly pushing him behind a large dumpster.
Roughly hitting the wall, he slid to the ground and sat for a moment. He couldn’t see who had dragged him into the alley, but suddenly he heard a familiar voice, replying to the man that had been chasing Daniel.
“Where’s the queer? I know you’re hiding him. He tried to suck my cock for drugs!”
“And you didn’t take him up on it? Judging by the state of you, you probably don’t get many offers.” It was Cathy, the girl he’d left behind, and Daniel could see her platforms under the dumpster, legs crossed as she leaned against the opposite wall. She let out a laugh, and Daniel could hear her take a drag from a cigarette.
“Surprised you’re not offering, walking around like a goddamn hooker. I’d pay to stick my fingers up your ass, baby.” Daniel tried keeping his breath down as she conversed with the man, and he could hear her scoff at his words.
“Get lost, you pervert. Find someone else to beat up.” She sounded completely unphased by his words, and suddenly Daniel could hear a voice in the distance, seemingly calling the man his way. Perhaps a friend.
The two of them were quiet for a moment, before Daniel could hear the man take off, probably in the direction of the person calling for him. He let out an exhale in relief as he heard the quick footsteps fade into the distance, and grounded himself by pressing his palms against the grainy pavement, rocks digging into the meat of them. Cathy’s platform shoes click-clacked as she made her way towards Daniel’s stiff, shaky figure, hunched over himself against the wall.
When she came into view, she crouched in front of him. “You okay? Sorry for grabbing you like that. I was on my way home, saw you running like crazy from that lunatic. Had to do something.” Daniel shakily smiled, and put out his hand so she could help him to his feet.
After hauling Daniel to his feet, he put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m fine, I think. You don’t have to apologise, you got him off my ass.” He used his free hand to bat at his behind, clearing the rocks stuck to his pants.
“Fuck, man. That’s never happened before. I’ve sucked off plenty of dudes for coke. Even ate some pussy for it, never been chased for suggesting it, though.”
“That guy’s fucking weird, seen him do all sorts of crazy shit before, never actually talked to him though.” She chuckled and patted at his head a little, dropped her cigarette and put it out with her heel.
“You on your way home?” She asked, her smoky, yet sweet breath filling Daniel’s nostrils.
God, she really is cute.
“I think, yeah. This night’s been kind of shit. Why?”
“You okay with me tagging along? The night’s a little dead.”
Fuck, did he mind? He really couldn’t believe his luck! The abandoned fuck had seemingly found him again, albeit in a humiliating situation, rescuing him like a knight in shining armour. Perhaps the night wasn’t completely sullied, despite him having thought that at least three times during the last hour.
“No, yeah, come with me. You got taxi money?” Her hand sank into her left jacket pocket. She pulled out a crinkled 20 dollar bill and waved it around. Daniel grinned, took her hand and led the two of them towards the street to flag down a taxi.
It took Daniel a few tries to open his apartment door, the key a little bit bent at the tip, but he succeeded at last and the two of them made their way inside. On their journey to his apartment, he had forgotten just how much of a mess it was, and now that they were there, he felt a little embarrassed. He rarely had visitors, so he felt no obligation to clean. Not the best mindset, admittedly.
There were empty cardboard boxes sitting in the doorway, dirty clothes he couldn’t be bothered to put in his laundry basket strewn over the floor, and cups on most surfaces, some still containing liquid. He hadn’t vacuumed in way too long, and the state of his bedroom… he hoped she’d be too horny to notice if they eventually made it there. Oh well.
“Sorry about the mess, I wasn’t, uh, expecting anyone.” He scratched the back of his head, and walked towards the kitchen, hoping he had at least a couple of beers to offer her, to make up for the mess.
“I’ve seen worse, don’t worry about it.” He could hear the squeaks from the couch springs when she took a seat, her shoes making small tapping noises on the floor as she waited for him.
The fridge was depressingly empty. Mayonnaise, a ready-to-eat meal, spoiled milk, and thankfully, four beer cans. He really needed payday to come sooner, but knowing him, he’d blow it on useless shit before ever shopping for groceries. He took two beers, closed the fridge with a small clattering noise, and made his way towards the couch. Cathy sat against one of the arms, her feet crossed and leaning her head against the headrest. Calm and collected, and very cute.
Daniel thrust one of the cans in her direction. “You want one?”
Gladly accepting his offer, she was quick to ply it open and chug down two mouthfuls of beer. He sat down on the couch himself, leaving some space between the two of them, and cracked his own beer open. He’d barely even had a sip of alcohol that night, so the feeling of the cold liquid hitting his tongue, and running down his throat was extremely relieving. Like finding an oasis in the middle of a desert, however corny that may sound.
For a few seconds, the only noise that could be heard was the humming of electricity coming from the fridge, and the cars rushing down the road outside of his open window. Cathy was silent, scanning his living room with a curious gleam, until her eyes landed on his desk, more specifically the telephone on top of it. Fuck. Her expression seemed playful, and Daniel could feel her move an inch closer to Daniel’s side, just slightly resting against him.
“Is that where you sat when you called him last night?” Her voice was quiet, whispered, in his ear. A sly hand found his pectorals and stroked in slow, circular motions. He could feel himself shiver, dottings of goosebumps rising on his body.
“Yeah…”
Both of them stared at the telephone, and suddenly Daniel could feel her hand reach for his beer. Taking both of the bottles in her hand, she departed from Daniel’s side for only a moment to place them on the small coffee table in front of the couch, before returning to his side and resuming her ministrations.
“And what? Did you jerk off to his voice?” Her hand kept wandering lower, and lower, until it was playing with his belt buckle. Daniel could feel his cock start to fill, his breath catching in his throat at her words.
“I didn’t mean to…”
She let out a warm laugh, breath tickling his ear. “Didn’t mean to what? Did you call him thinking it was a therapist’s hotline? I doubt that.”
Daniel couldn’t look away from the telephone, couldn’t stop himself from thinking of Amadeo. It wasn’t as if it was his fault! Cathy was relentlessly reminding him, prodding and poking at his head to figure out what he had gotten up to the night before. It’s not my fault I’m thinking of him, it’s hers. Stupid rationalisation. He knew it was his own damn fault. He missed his voice, missed his commands, and missed feeling kept, owned.
Suddenly, Daniel could feel her hand under his boxers, palming at his half-hard cock. Somehow she had managed to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants and pull down his fly while his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Amadeo. Classic. Pay attention, Daniel! There’s a real, flesh-and-blood girl feeling you up, and you’re thinking of a man?
A man whose face he hadn’t even seen.
“He just… there was something about him–mmh..” He let out a gasp as a finger found the head of his dick, sliding against it and coaxing him to become fully erect in her hand.
“He probably talks to a lot of people through that hotline. Probably knows a lot. Especially about good sex.”
Her words were quiet, whispered in his ear as she felt him up, and Daniel’s hips raised slightly against the movement.
“Yeah.”
The buckle on his belt clinked against itself as he absent-mindedly shuffled his pants and boxers lower, hissing as his cock sprang free. The cold air was quickly replaced by Cathy’s hand, grasping tightly around him and moving in calculated strokes.
“Do you want to fuck him?”
“No, but…”
“Do you know what he looks like?” Her hand sped up a little, and Daniel answered by shaking his head, and letting out a high-pitched whine. He sounded pathetic.
This was strange, the whole situation was strange. This girl was jerking him off, clearly turned on in some fucked up pseudo-voyeuristic way by this whole thing, and Daniel couldn’t say he himself wasn’t turned on as well, but…
“Can you imagine him? Imagine his cock? Holding it like I’m holding yours, taking it into your mouth. Would you gag on it? Maybe you’d like him to gag on yours instead. Would he fuck you, or would you fuck him? Do you think he’s big?”
Fuck. Jesus. This was all too much. He wanted all of that, and more. He wanted Cathy out of his apartment. Wanted her dainty hand to be more masculine, rougher with him, and her voice to be sultrier and deeper, and he didn’t really want to fuck her. He really didn’t. He wanted Amadeo. He wanted Alice. But he didn’t really want Alice, he just wanted Amadeo, and that was not what he wanted himself to desire. His hips kept making aborted little thrusts against her fist, chasing an orgasm, and as he did, he felt himself get angrier and angrier.
“I wish I could see him fuck you, Daniel.”
What the fuck is her problem?
He was hot. Too hot, his clothes restricting his movements as his orgasm came closer. Stupidly enough, his eyes were still on that damn telephone, and he felt as if it were calling him. If he deluded himself enough, he could even hear a phantom ring coming from it. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried his hardest to ignore his thoughts and urges, delusions even, and even though his anger hadn’t gone anywhere, it felt a little easier to let his orgasm wash over him.
Cathy’s grip was still tight on him, her hand slightly faltering, probably tired and cramping up from continuously stroking him, and all Daniel could do was let out a little oh, god as his cum spurted all over her hand.
He felt as if the orgasm lasted hours, twisting his insides and wringing him like a washrag. Embarassing, really. Over a handjob, while she talked dirty about the male sex operator that had been occupying Daniel’s every thought.
They were both panting, him slightly louder as he recovered from his orgasm. He let his head hit the back of the couch, and tried to enjoy the come-down, but all he could feel was his rage returning in full force, except this time paired with a deep humiliation.
One of his hands came to rest over his face, rubbing over his eyelids until he saw stars. He wanted her gone, and he was afraid that if he opened his mouth to say something to her, it would not be a polite string of words. There was really no way Daniel could describe how he felt. Angry? Well, yeah. Embarrassed? Horny? Unsatisfied? Longing? It was all blurring together, and there was no resolve to any of these emotions in Daniel’s head except picking up the telephone, and calling that damned number.
Amadeo.
“Wanna do me now?”
Right. He’d almost forgotten she was there, despite only having laid there for about two minutes without speaking to her. With his cock still out, limp against his stomach. Classy. Daniel didn’t even take his hand off of his eyes, or move at all when he told her to “get out”, and he only allowed himself to crack one eye open when she replied with a “huh?”, face twisted in confusion.
Her non-compliance seemed so stupid to Daniel, and it only served to piss him further off. It took him a second, but he tucked himself back into his boxers and pants, and stood up from the couch, buttons still undone and belt jingling with every small movement he made. After making himself semi-presentable (not presentable at all , but at least his cock wasn’t out), he turned to her with a scowl.
This girl had been fun. She’d been Daniel’s type all around. Well, not that Daniel had a type, he really didn’t care who he fucked, but she certainly was cute. He really had enjoyed his night with her, and yet… she looked so idiotic now, in his eyes. Hand still stained with half-dried cum, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, yet her expression a little embarrassed, wondering if she heard Daniel’s words correctly. Unfortunately for her, she did.
“I said get out. Now. Before I start yelling.” He said to her, his tone even and emotionless. Cold.
This girl currently did not make him feel much, and watching her scramble to gather her things, pat her flyaway hairs down, and snatch her unfinished beer off of the coffee table only made him feel even less for her. Nothing at all, really.
Her heels meeting the old floorboards made loud sounds (Daniel hoped the downstairs neighbors wouldn’t place a noise complaint, but also he really didn’t care) as she rushed towards the front door, muttering something about incompetent men and never getting to cum. A problem for a wiser man than Daniel Molloy to ponder and figure out. She flashed him her middle finger without even looking at him before slamming the door closed, and, yeah, that’s fair. Daniel deserved that.
As soon as Daniel could hear that she was actually gone, he turned back around and stood in the middle of the living room, staring holes through his telephone. I hope it’s not too late to call , he thought to himself as he made his way to his desk chair once again.