The Boys in the Club

by M.T. Pope

Genres: Urban Fantasy; Christian Suspense

Synopsis

Four gay men struggle to find a balance between their work lives and their club personas before the nightlife consumes them.

It is said that all work and no play makes life dull. Justin, Keith, Marcus, and Evan love to do both. These young guys are four hard-working professionals who also have an addiction to club life.
 
Keith is in the banking field, trying to rise to the top as easily as possible, but it is not happing as fast as he would like. Justin is a caregiver with a heart of gold. He loves taking care of the needs of his patients, but he is on the search for someone to take care of his needs. Marcus is a therapist with impeccable wisdom and honesty. He owns his own business, and it is doing well. His life seems perfect, but his work life is boring him to tears. Evan is the handsome hunk of the bunch. He is a personal trainer who will whip you into shape with ease, though his own life is in shambles. 
 
Partying hard gets easier to do as the pressures of life get the best of them. Drinking, bad decisions, and bad boys are always a recipe for disaster. The club life seems like the perfect escape, but could it ruin their lives?
 

Release date: December 31, 1969

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

It was a breezy Monday morning, and I hustled into work with the stride of a cheetah. Not because I was anxious to get to work, but because I was running late once again. I had a hangover that was giving me the business right now. I had on my shades to mask the contempt I had for having to work hard after a night of partying hard.

“Keith,” I heard a voice call out as I swiftly passed an office. It was a familiar voice. One I chose to ignore at the present time. I did not have any time at all to be an actor.

The person to whom this voice belonged decided to follow me. I entered my office and closed the door behind me. That did not deter the person from entering.

“Are you okay?” The feminine voice made me cringe. I did not hate this person. I just needed time to get myself together. Like until the end of the day.

“Why would you ask that?” I asked as I eased down onto the butter-soft leather chair I had behind my desk.

“Because you were walking like you had to use the bathroom,” she said and then chuckled. I did not find it funny.

Jennifer was a loan officer with the bank. I was a senior loan officer. She thought that we were equals. Maybe because she did anything I asked of her. Jennifer was very pleasant to be around, and she made my days at work easier. She was just a bit too bubbly for this early in the morning. Most mornings. I wasn’t in a hungover state every day, but on many Mondays my senses were impaired from a night of relaxation and inebriation.

“That was not the issue,” I said as I took off my sunglasses and sat them on my desk. “I just have some things to work on, and I am behind.” I looked her in the eyes and smiled.

“Okay. You just had me worried. That’s all.”

“I thank you for your concern. Now let me get myself together, and I will get with you shortly.”

“Humph. That was a tad bit sharp.” She glared at me, then headed to the door. She could be sensitive at times. Or perhaps I was being sharp. It was a toss-up.

“Nope, this is . . . Close the door behind you.” I laughed, and so did she as she exited my office. That was our relationship. Give and take.

I got up from my chair and walked around my desk. I had pictures of my family and friends on my desk and on a bookcase on one side of the room. I looked back at the name plate on my desk. It read KEITH ADAMS, SENIOR LOAN OFFICER. I was proud of my title, but I wanted more. Promotions were not being handed out at the rate I would have liked. I wanted to be further ahead than I was right now. I was not lazy, and I had worked my way into this office. It just seemed like I was standing still.

Money management was my greatest skill. I had inherited it from my parents, who had adopted me when I was fourteen. They were great stewards of money, and they had made sure that I was well versed in handling money too. I lived to make them proud and myself wealthy. I had been on the right track, but, again, everything had stalled. And now I was questioning myself. I needed to do something to speed up this process.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I liked what I saw. I was a handsome man. I was proud of my accomplishments.

Growing up in Baltimore had been very interesting. With its gun violence, its corrupt politicians, and a menacing squeegee boy problem, this city had got a bad rep. All you heard about when I was a kid was murder and crime. You would have thought that people were getting murdered around the clock. But that was not true. But the homicide rate was highlighted on the evening news and in the papers.

Even though life in Baltimore was not as bad as the media portrayed it, my childhood was hardly ideal. Both of my parents died from a drug overdose. And plenty of people met the same end in Baltimore in those days. But I vowed early on that I wasn’t going to be a statistic or make excuses. I decided to use my parents’ demise as a reason to keep going. And, even better, I was going to succeed in life. I didn’t want to be coddled. I didn’t want special privileges. I matured at a young age and pulled myself up by my own bootstraps. Now I was reaping the rewards of my hard work. I was part of the good news about Baltimore.

After my parents died, one right after the other, I was put in the system, and I survived that experience with the help of my friends Marcus, Keith, and Evan. Was it easy? No, but I didn’t let anything stop me from becoming the man that I was today. To combat some of the bad influences in my surroundings, I had made sure to frequent Baltimore’s museums and historic landmarks when I was a teenager. And I visited the city’s different cultural areas, like Little Italy and the Amish markets, and sampled the food. Sometimes I would just pick a restaurant that normally I would not try. I wanted to remain open-minded and to counter any negative images that I had in my mind.

Nowadays, I walked out of my home with my head held high on most days. Today was one of those days. I hopped in my car, pulled off, and headed toward my first client of the day at the rehab center where I worked.

“Come on, Mr. Alan. You can do it,” I said as I helped my patient out of the bed. This forty-year-old Latino guy had had a stroke and was now in rehab. I cared for him in between his therapy sessions. He was a big guy and needed to lose weight. Caring for patients in rehab was my job, and I loved it. It was a challenge that brought joy to my life.

“You got me?” he questioned.

“I got you, sir,” I answered as I helped him get across the room to his commode.

Mr. Alan was a good-looking guy with a few gray hairs sprinkled throughout his short, curly hair. I helped him pull down his shorts so that he could relieve himself, and I could not help but notice how good his manhood looked as he sat down. I tried not to stare too hard, but that sight was pleasing to the eyes, to say the least.

“Thanks for your help, Justin. You are always so gentle with me.” He looked at me and smiled. His smile made me horny. I had to snap out of it.

“Just doing my job, sir,” I replied and then walked away.

I walked toward the window in his room. Thoughts swam around in my mind, the same ones that consumed me daily. I was lonely. I mean, I had some great friends, but that was all that they were. I wanted a companion to go home to every night, not just a series of one-night stands.

Mr. Alan was eye candy and was good to look at while I helped him recover, but he was married man. His beautiful wife paid him a visit about every other day. His eyes lit up every time she crossed the threshold of his room.

I would not try anything with him, because I knew that he was a straight man. I was not sure that he knew I was gay. I did not carry myself in a feminine way or in any way that could possibly make him uncomfortable. Don’t get it twisted. I was a proud gay man, but I was not a billboard.

“I’m finished,” he called out, snapping me out of my daze.

I went back to my duties and got one more peek at the third leg he had between the two others God gave him. A mature man always made me horny. I wanted more than physical pleasure, though. I wanted to be loved on and to love on someone whom I could call my own. And good sex was an added bonus.

I was a patient man, but I needed this love thing to move faster than it had. I was not an old man, but I was about to choose one if a man my age with some sense and positive vibes did not come along soon.

“So, tell me what is going on with you today?” I asked a patient of mine as we sat across the room from each other. She has been my patient for about six months now, and she was getting on my nerves with her problems. Yes, I was a therapist, and I liked the money that I was making, but these days I got tired of listening to other people’s problems. I had had my own practice for about six years, and it was quite lucrative, to say the least. I truly had no financial problems. I was just bored.

“Ronald called me again,” she said and then sighed.

Ronald was her on again, off again lover, and he used her relentlessly, and she loved it. He borrowed her money and her vagina at will. She was a ho, but I could not tell her that outright. I had wanted to do it on many occasions, but her insurance paid well, so I was going to ride this out since she wanted to be ridden. I was leading this horse to the water, but I was taking the scenic route on purpose.

“And what transpired?” I inquired. I knew what she was going to say, but I would let her lead. I wanted to pull out the tape of our last session so that we could get right to the end of the same story, but I did my job and listened.

“He called me at about ten o clock at night, saying he had an emergency and needed to come over,” she explained with a sunken look on her face.

She looked sad, but I knew that she loved being dogged out by this man. She had shown me a picture of him once, and he was a very good-looking guy. He was a bum, nonetheless.

“Okay?” I said, prodding so she would continue.

“Well, when he got to my apartment, I didn’t let him in right away. I partially opened the door so that he didn’t assume I was going to let him right in. You know, like you told me to do. Set some boundaries.”

“Great job.” I smiled. That was one of the directions I had given her a few sessions ago.

“Continue,” I said, prodding her again. I wanted to get this twenty minutes over with.

“Well, he pulled it out right there in the hallway as we talked.” Her eyes lit up as she talked.

“Really?” I sat up, as this did pique my interest.

“Yes, he waved like it was the American flag at a baseball game.” She was really smiling now. “Then I got weak.” Her head dropped, and I saw tears fall.

I got weak too. I felt for her.

“Before I knew it, he had me bent over the couch, enjoying orgasm after orgasm.”

My manhood hardened as I thought about her passion. I almost forgot that I was in a session with her and not him. My imagination took me to exotic places many times during these sessions.

“How was it?” I mistakenly asked.

“Huh?” She looked at me in confusion.

“I mean, what happened next?” I shifted in my seat, trying to mask my embarrassment.

“He asked to borrow some money.” She looked away in shame.

My eyebrows rose in my effort to act shocked. “And?”

“He said he needed to pay some bills, so I loaned him some money.”

“A loan is something you get back, maybe with interest.” I paused to give her time to mull this over. “Has he paid you back from the last time?” I asked. I knew the answer, but I let her say it.

“No, but he said that he was in love with me.” She smiled as she looked at me. I wanted to smack some sense into her.

“Where do they cash in love?” I asked.

“Huh?” She looked confused.

“Rebecca, do you really think that he loves you?”

“Yes. He tells me all the time,” she said, but there was no confidence in her voice. “You don’t think he loves me?” She looked at me, searching for the hope that I did not have.

“You, no, but parts of you are readily available to him. You do not see the problem with that?” I said.

“He can learn to love the rest of me, and I him. That’s love, right?”

“Your version.” I looked at her, hoping she would get it.

“I like my version,” she asserted, refusing to be disillusioned with her relationship. She really believed in herself. She was going to be a patient of mine for a long time. But she was not alone in her naivete. I had patients confronting different scenarios who also believe their own hype. I got paid to help them through their problems. Some were easier to enlighten than others.

After I had sessions with three more people that day, I was exhausted. I could not wait to go out to the club for a few hours and hang with my boys. It was always a great way to escape the lives of the people I counseled and my own life. I could feel the liquid calm even before I got there.

Evan was my name, and getting people into shape was my game. I loved the intensity of getting people to see the necessity of being in top form. Health care and self-care were both mental and physical. My work provided a high for me. Seeing a person change right in front of my eyes was a miracle to me.

The problem that I had was that some of my clients turned me on, and sometimes we crossed the line. This didn’t happen with everyone, of course, but it happened often enough. You see, I was considered the best-looking one in my group of friends. I had a light caramel complexion and tight, curly hair. I had a smile that showed my pretty white teeth. I wasn’t on any conceited business, but I got plenty of attention. None of my friends would be considered ugly by a long shot. In fact, we were all good looking. But I was in better shape than any of them, and that got me tons of attention. And I dressed to get attention too. Almost everything that I bought fit my body perfectly.

Many of my clients came from the clubs that I frequented with my friends. I trained men and women, but mainly men. I threw a few women in the mix to attract more money. I was cute, and the women wanted me. I would string them along sometimes to keep that money flowing. It sounded mean, but the women and I got what we all wanted in the end.

I had a dude in front of me right now who was doing a couple of reps of push-ups. He had been training with me for a month or two now. I was feeling him, and I was crotch watching, as he hadn’t put spandex on underneath his shorts like normal men did to keep their manhood in place. I watched it flop up and down like a limp fish.

I was getting paid well to train this brother, but I wanted to train in other ways. I was horny beyond belief. It seemed like I always wanted to get it in. It was said that men thought about sex constantly, and I agreed wholeheartedly.

“Hey, good job, Allen,” I said. He got up off the floor. He was a dark-skinned guy, and that turned me on as well. I loved dark-skinned men. He looked to be in his midtwenties.

“You think so?” he asked. His breathing was labored, but that was natural. He had sweat all over his body. He reached for one of the exercise machines and grabbed the towel that he had hanging over it.

“Dude, you are getting it in.” I patted him on the stomach.

“It just doesn’t seem like I am getting the results I want.” He looked deflated.

“Listen, stop rushing things, and let me worry about your progress,” I told him.

“Okay.” A smile crept across his face. It made me weak in the knees.

“Now do some reps of jumping jacks,” I ordered.

He started to do what I had asked. I watched the show and enjoyed every moment of it. My imagination was going crazy as I watched his manhood flop around.

The thing was, I didn’t know if he was gay or not. Or if he knew that I was. He was a referral from one of the women I was training.

After about another hour of working out, we both headed to the showers. The health club that I trained at had a common shower area and a few private stalls. We both headed to the common area with towels on.

“Thanks for doing all that you do for me. I appreciate it,” he said as he took off his towel and stepped in front of a showerhead. I was supposed to be looking at his face, but his soft manhood got most of my attention.

I took my towel off and did the same thing that he had done. We both took a shower and talked about random things.

“So, what does your girl think about your progress?” I asked, probing.

“That’s not my speed, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m confused,” I said, playing dumb.

“I like men,” he said in a hushed tone. Like he didn’t want anyone to hear him. I played along.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me,” I assured him.

“I appreciate that. You still must be careful these days, even though being gay is more acceptable now.”

“True.” I nodded in agreement.

“You cool with that too, right?”

“No judgment over here.”

“At first, I worried, since you’re a straight guy training a gay guy. I was nervous about it making you uncomfortable.”

I was a proud gay guy, but I didn’t give off that vibe to many people. It was what it was. Whether you picked up on it or not, I was cool with it. It did have its advantages, and I used them most of the time.

We both dried off and proceeded to get dressed.

“Hey, did you want to go grab a smoothie really quick?” he asked. “If not, it’s okay. I just wanted to thank you for being so encouraging about my training. I don’t want you to think that I’m coming on to you.”

“That never crossed my mind,” I lied to him. I was horny after that shower, and it took everything in me not to advance my plan to explore his body. “I would love to.”

We made our way to Tropical Smoothie Café and grabbed some smoothies. It was a few blocks down the street, so the drive there was short. There was silence in the car as I drove. I did not know what to say to him. In my mind, we were just trainer and client.

I pulled up to the shop, and we exited the car and walked in. Tropical Smoothie Café was usually busy at this time of the day, but today that wasn’t the case. We both ordered a s. . .