Broken Trust

Broken Trust
Gale Stanley
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2017 Gale Stanley

Dan ran back down Bourbon Street, grabbed Brad's hand and spun him around in an impromptu dance move. "Come on, let's join the crowd. I want to drink and dance."

Brad looked around, clearly embarrassed. "Are you crazy? I'm exhausted."

"You'll get your second wind."

"Forget it. I've been in enough tacky tourist traps to last me a lifetime."

"Exactly. Let's follow the crowd and find out where the locals drink."

Brad wiped sweat off his brow with a forearm. "It must be a hundred degrees. I say we go back to the hotel bar for a drink, and then take a nap before dinner."

"You're no fun."

"You think this will be fun?"

"It can be whatever you make it."

"Well, I've had enough." Brad pulled away. "I'm going back to the hotel. You coming?"

"No. I'm not tired."

Disappointed, Dan watched Brad's back as he walked off. They did everything together. Maybe he should follow Brad back to the hotel. A little voice inside Dan disagreed. You don't have enough fun in your life. Let him go. Dan hesitated a few seconds, and then ran after the partygoers.

Brad hadn't always been like this. They met in college, and Brad had literally taken Dan's breath away. He was so beautiful, inside and out. Smart, too. They were so good together. What the hell happened? They used to have fun. Now it was all work and no play. Even the sex had become routine. Dan wasn't a wild-and-crazy guy, but he felt choked, like he had a yoke around his neck.

Tonight he wanted to throw off the yoke and let loose, follow the music and the energy and see where it took him. The route was random and spontaneous. The group would stop for a drink and argue about where to go next. Being unfamiliar with the city, Dan kept his mouth shut and followed the revelers as they staggered from one dive to another. The night progressed and the crowd of mostly men became rowdier. The neighborhoods became sleazier. So what? It was all part of the fun.

The number of drinkers dwindled, but a good size group remained. They ended up in front of a shack that looked abandoned. Only the neon glow of a sign in the window signaled that it was open for business. Dan hesitated. He hadn't drunk as much as the others but he felt unbalanced, as if he'd had enough. Maybe he should go back to the hotel.

No. He'd sleep on the flight home.

The men pressed forward and Dan stood in line with the others as they waited to get buzzed in. He felt like he'd time-warped to prohibition days. A guilty sensation of being up to no good came over him. Dan ignored it. Doing something he shouldn't could be fun. Tomorrow he'd be flying home, back to the same old routine. Tonight was for taking chances.

The interior was dark, but hey, what you can't see, can't hurt you. Right? Mardi Gras beads hung from the low ceiling. They brushed Dan's head as he made a beeline for the bathroom.

Dan opened the door and gagged. Holding his breath, he stepped over unrecognizable chunks between him and the urinal. The graffiti on the grimy walls was still readable.

May your life be like toilet paper, long and useful

Big Brother is watching you

Take that, society!

Dan chuckled, but he was careful not to touch anything except his dick. He washed his hands and dried them on his pants before walking out. Elbowing his way through a crowd of men, he made his way to the bar. Brad would hate this. He pushed Brad out of his head.

Dan wasn't completely comfortable in this situation either. Surrounded by what appeared to be a mostly gay crowd, and despite having had more than a few drinks, he still felt like an outsider. Growing up in the closet, he'd become used to hiding the real Dan. His parents never made a big deal of his shy temperament. They'd both been quiet and reserved themselves. Old habits died hard, and Dan still had trouble opening up, even with Brad.

"What'll it be?"

Dan looked up and met the bartender's eyes. Without warning, nerves fluttered in Dan's belly and his heart began to race. He had trouble speaking. This might be the hottest man he'd ever seen. No offense to Brad, a blue-eyed, blond pretty boy, who was beautiful in his own way, but the bartender's dark intensity was a real turn-on. If Dan had to put a label on this man, he'd call him a wolf. Lean, muscular, and semi-hairy, the bartender resembled Joe Manganiello. The wolf ran a hand through thick black locks that kept falling over eyes so dark they appeared black. Then he winked. Dan's jaw dropped. His face heated.

"I'm Paul, and you're..."

Dan gulped. "Uh... Dan."

"So, what are you drinking, Danny Boy?"

"I... uh..."

"Undecided? Let me mix you the specialty of the house. You won't be sorry."