Date: Fri, 10 Jul 2020 02:39:02 -0500
From: Bryce Manning <brycemanningfiction@gmail.com>
Subject: Opening Up in New Orleans

Comments, questions, gripes? Email brycemanningfiction@gmail.com

Author's Note: Bourbon Street might look a little different now than when
I last visited New Orleans and lived elements of this story out as an
undergrad, but the two gay bars I spent the night crossing between are
apparently still there. Almost all of the action will be in the second
chapter.

--------------------------------------------------

Opening Up in New Orleans

By Bryce Manning

Dakota felt his relationship with Trent fraying more with every second
they spent trapped together in the car.

"Fuck, there's no way I can get over there now," Trent mumbled, glaring
as he peered over to his boyfriend's face. "You realize you need to give
me more time to merge, right?"

They were trying to stop for food almost five hours into their journey,
and now it was the latest battle of half a dozen they'd already fought.
"I told you it was exit 13 five minutes ago!" Dakota objected, rolling
his eyes. Trent always wanted him to navigate and spit out directions
like a GPS when they were in the car, but he never listened well. "You
didn't even try to start getting over until I saw the ramp. And of course
you didn't have enough time, because you insisted on staying in the left
lane even though you knew we were close."

Trent's hands gripped the steering wheel harder. "You're supposed to be
looking at the map," he said dismissively.

Dakota let out an annoyed sigh. "I'm supposed to be looking at the map
constantly? No, you're supposed to start paying attention to the signs
when I tell you the exit number!" He stared out the glass of his metal
cage, appreciating the gorgeous blue of the cloudless sky stretching
above, the healthy, brilliant green hues of the trees and grass lining
the highway. Everything beyond the window was perfect and lively compared
to the pronounced decay festering in the car.

"Let's get off at the next exit and we can trek back," Trent suggested,
trying to sound conciliatory.

His boyfriend scoffed, not bothering to look over. "I'm not giving you
any more directions. Use your own fucking phone if you want to know where
to go." He was being petty right now, but he'd already endured enough. He
knew Trent was glaring at him again.

"Really? Obviously we both need to eat. You're a bitch when you're
hungry."

"You're being the fucking bitch right now," Dakota muttered, lowering his
window all the way down and letting the humid outside air blow into the
car.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Trent complained. "It's hot as fuck out
there and I have the air conditioning on!"

"Whatever, I don't care." Dakota finally glanced over.

His boyfriend angrily shook his head, his eyes flaring. "How about we
just turn around and go home then? I'm sick of being in this car with
you."

Dakota seriously considered the offer as he stared down at his phone,
scanning the maps app. "We're two hours away now. It's going to take five
to drive back." He didn't want to spend that much time trapped in hell,
even if he wasn't the least bit excited about visiting New Orleans
anymore. "Let's just keep going."

"Then tell me where I'm supposed to fucking go!" Trent snapped.

The boys had been dating for the last two years, enduring plenty of rough
patches before, but Dakota knew they were definitely hanging by a thread
now. They'd been lodged in petty bickering for weeks, Dakota finally
starting to mentally acknowledge that they were never going to work their
problems out. Deciding what to make for dinner or what to watch on TV
inevitably turned into a bitter argument, their vicious brawls not even
yielding makeup sex anymore. They barely had sex at all. They barely
kissed each other. Trent was never horny and never in the mood when
Dakota tried, except for maybe one time every two or three weeks when
they'd finally spend fifteen minutes fucking. It was never satisfying
after the long wait. More recently, Trent had refused his boyfriend's
advances for an entire month, even denying Dakota when he'd patiently
waited for Trent to come home ass up in a jockstrap on their kitchen
floor. After that disappointment, trying felt pointless. Dakota
completely gave the effort up.

The drought was driving him insane, the mere sight of a hot guy
sufficient to get his dick hard. He stared at random men everywhere: in
class, on the bus, even when he was out with Trent eating at a restaurant
or shopping in a store. Dakota was consuming more porn than he ever had
in his life, jerking off at least three times a day, Trent enraged every
time he barged into their bedroom and witnessed the event.

"You're looking at porn again?" he'd growled a week ago, folding his arms
against his chest and appearing displeased. "You're always looking at
porn. Am I not enough for you?"

"You never want to fuck!" Dakota shouted back incredulously, shocked that
Trent was seriously suggesting he should be satisfied with absolutely
nothing. Apparently his simple existence was supposed to be /enough./

"Well, you never ask!"

Dakota laughed hysterically at that bold claim, staring fiercely into his
boyfriend's eyes. "I asked you all the time, Trent. I literally gave up
after a month of constantly being told no. And you never come on to me.
Never! Don't try to act like you do. You can't be mad at me for being
horny! What else am I supposed to do about it?"

Instead of confronting their troubles, Trent rolled his eyes and stormed
away. "Whatever," he called back, slamming the door shut.

That's what he always did. He seemed incapable of talking through their
problems. Relationships weren't supposed to be like this. Dakota had
found himself thinking that countless times in the two years they'd been
dating, the first doubt creeping into his mind only a month after they'd
met. Trent was his first boyfriend, though, Dakota having no other
experience to draw on. He always overcame his hesitation and persevered,
hoping the situation might eventually improve. He still felt like he
loved Trent and he genuinely cared about the guy, but he wasn't happy. He
barely remembered happiness, a state of mind that had gradually drained
away within the first few months of moving into an apartment together.
Sharing a place and spending more of their lives with each other, instead
of bringing the couple closer, was forcing the boys even further apart.
Love wasn't enough. Dakota had cried his eyes out an untold number of
times trying to imagine how he might break up with Trent, even beginning
to start the conversation on a few occasions, always faltering when he
worried he might be making a mistake. He knew he was miserable staying
with Trent, but he was afraid he'd be even more miserable without him.

Trent was certainly well aware of the discord. He'd pitched and
meticulously planned the trip to New Orleans, a city neither of them had
ever visited, explicitly saying they needed a fresh start. Dakota knew
his boyfriend was a diehard romantic, a guy hopelessly attracted to the
idea that getting away and exploring a new place together might
reinvigorate their rocky relationship and make them fall in love all over
again. The vicious clashes in the car that had dotted the last five hours
made his optimistic dream seem like a stupid and totally forlorn fantasy.
With every mile, with every biting snipe at each other, Dakota seriously
wondered if they'd even last the drive, but maybe that was for the best.
He was exhausted with settling for their constant dysfunction. In his
heart, he knew he was ready for the relationship to end.

The guys had met on Tinder when Dakota was 19 and Trent was 20, their
profiles both blatantly advertising that they were interested in more
than just a sweaty fling. They were opposites in most ways: Dakota was
5'10", blond and blue eyed, smooth-faced, his thin body toned but nearly
hairless, all his skin as pale as a ghost; Trent was 6'1", with brown
hair and brown eyes, muscular and hairy, his flesh tinted with an olive
Mediterranean complexion. Dakota definitely thought the guy was cute as
he scrolled through his pictures, and evidently he felt the same way.

Trent invited Dakota to lunch on campus the next day, the younger guy
gleefully accepting. He was too shy to ask anyone out himself, most of
his interactions never moving beyond brief and stilted texting. The boys
clicked instantly when they met, realizing they were both history majors
and immediately starting to compare notes on professors they'd both had.
Trent, a year ahead of Dakota since he was a junior, doled out advice on
who and what the younger guy should avoid when he registered for his
classes next semester. They discovered a shared passion for literature,
having a deep conversation about the books they'd read taking the same
non-history elective as freshmen.

Trent was still living in a dorm room despite being an upperclassmen,
constantly suffering for privacy, but Dakota shared a spacious place off
campus with a roommate. "Want to come over for a drink later?" he'd
suggested. He wasn't old enough to buy booze himself at that point, but
Dakota's roommate had scored him a bottle of tequila. He instantly
wondered if he'd ever see Trent again when he saw hesitation on his face.

"I really would love to come over," Trent had said, "but I already made
plans for tonight. Maybe some other time I can?"

"Oh yeah, sure," Dakota agreed. He'd heard that line a few times before
in two years of attempting to date, any man who uttered it either never
bothering to text him back or quickly blowing him off. He was
disappointed walking out of the restaurant, shaking Trent's hand one last
time, resigned to never spending another moment with the guy despite the
chemistry they seemed to share.

After a couple hours spent feeling rejected, Dakota's phone chimed. /So I
just canceled on my friend. You still willing to have me over tonight?/
They'd traded numbers when they set up their date the night before.

His face had lit up seeing the message. /Yeah,/ he texted back. /I'm free
all night./

An hour later, Trent was walking into Dakota's apartment. "Wow," he
mumbled, seeming taken aback by the amount of space. "This is a really
nice place!"

"Thanks," Dakota answered, smiling as he led the guy through the living
room to the kitchen, motioning for him to sit at one of the bar stools.
"You want a margarita?"

"Yeah, sure!" he said eagerly.

Dakota fetched a pair of elegant margarita glasses out of one of the
cabinets, setting them down on the counter in front of Trent.

"You even have the glasses!" Trent said like he was impressed.

He shrugged. "Well, my roommate does, but she won't mind us using them."

"You live with a girl? That's awesome. One of my roommates is obnoxiously
homophobic." Trent rolled his beautiful brown eyes.

"You have more than one roommate?" Dakota asked with surprise as he
pulled tequila and margarita mix out of the fridge.

"The dorm room is like a suite," Trent explained as Dakota eyeballed
pours of liquor. "Basically an apartment on campus with three separate
bedrooms, except we don't have a kitchen."

Dakota dumped the margarita mix in next, filling the glasses to the top.
"Oh, nice! Saves you from having to ride the bus." He opened a drawer,
pulling out a spoon and starting to mix, the metal clanking loudly
against the glass.

Trent grinned. "Yeah, I love where my room is. It never takes me more
than ten minutes to walk to class. I definitely miss having a kitchen,
though." He scanned the huge space in front of him like he was genuinely
sad.

"You can cook? All I ever do is burn stuff here," Dakota said, sliding
one of the margaritas over. "I'm not kidding, I literally started a fire
once."

He was laughing heartily. "I mean, who hasn't done that? Cooking is easy,
though. You just need someone to teach you!"

Dakota was smiling, feeling like Trent was volunteering to be the one who
would, lifting his drink up as Trent followed.

"Cheers!" Trent toasted, their glasses clinking together as the boys each
took a sip. "That's pretty good," he complimented.

The statement was probably meaningless, but Dakota beamed anyway,
assuming the 21-year-old knew more than he did about mixing drinks. "I
hope so, because I definitely don't know how to make anything else with
tequila." They both laughed and drank more.

"I'm really sorry I said I couldn't come earlier," Trent apologized. "I
promised my best friend we were going to hang out, and she always gets
really mad if I try to ditch her. But I couldn't stop thinking about how
cute you were while I was sitting in class today. I decided it was worth
it." He grinned sheepishly before lifting his glass to his lips again.

Dakota felt himself blushing hearing Trent call him cute. "You're really
cute too," he whispered shyly.

A warm smile spread across the guy's face. "Don't you want to sit down
too?"

Dakota walked around the counter, sitting in the stool next to Trent as
they slowly drank their margaritas and started talking about books again.
Hot jocks were always nice to look at, but this is what he'd always
craved in a guy.

"You know, I was thinking about something else all day too," Trent said
as he drained his glass and plunked it down on the counter. "Something I
should have done when we left that restaurant." He looked seriously into
Dakota's blue eyes, slowly leaning into him as their lips pressed
together for the first time.

The kiss was magical, goosebumps sticking up all over Dakota's body as
the boys almost immediately started to slide their tongues passionately
together. Their hands were all over each other as the pair hungrily made
out, Trent brave enough to grab the bulge that had sprung up in Dakota's
shorts as he desperately tried to suck the life out of him with his
mouth. When they finally breathlessly withdrew from each other, their
faces both slicked with spit, Dakota knew he needed more. "Hey, you want
to see my room?"

Trent's eyes were radiant hearing the invitation, his hand still on
Dakota's bulge as he gripped it hard. "Yeah, I'd love to go take a look!"

The boys started to strip naked as soon as Dakota's door was shut,
kissing excitedly and grinding their bodies together for two solid hours.
Trent was intent on taking things slowly, unwilling to even venture into
oral since they'd just met, but Dakota respected that, content just
stroking the guy's seven inches. He was amazed that their penises were
almost identical as they traded between jerking each other off and
masturbating together. They finally came lying next to each other, their
mouths locked together kissing, their warm flesh touching from their
faces down to their feet. The boys didn't bother cleaning up, spending
another thirty minutes ravenously making out. This time Trent was on top
of Dakota, their cum-slicked torsos smashing together, their hands and
cocks frequently brushing. They busted in unison again, splattering their
loads all over each other as Trent collapsed panting into Dakota, all
their warm jizz pooling together.

Dakota was already convinced he wanted to date Trent. He'd never spent
that much time simply kissing and jerking off with guy, but the
experience was so intensely intimate, easily better than some of the
occasions he'd actually had sex. He fantasized constantly about how
amazing the fucking would be. They crossed that plateau two weeks later,
Trent throwing Dakota's legs up in the air after thirty minutes of making
out, his hard dick pressed between Dakota's cheeks. "I want to fuck you
tonight," he growled intensely, gazing hungrily into Dakota's eyes as
precum eagerly seeped from the head of his dick.

"Fuck me, Trent," Dakota begged. He'd been dreaming of this moment since
the night they'd first met.

Trent spit a few generous portions of saliva at his cock, rubbing the tip
against Dakota's hole and sliding himself inside. He struggled with the
first couple inches, but Dakota was so worked up and desperate for the
fuck that his insides quickly and easily gave way, Trent burying his
whole shaft. He fucked slowly at first, gently kissing Dakota as his pace
accelerated, until he was plowing the younger guy like a beast, his hands
all over him. After a solid hour of reaming Dakota in every possible
position, Trent's whole body drenched in sweat, they were back in
missionary, his hands on Dakota's hips as he finally started yelling
loudly. His dick was planted to the hilt as he climaxed, Trent's face
contorting wildly as he fired seemingly endless bursts of seed deep into
Dakota's ass. Kissing again, Trent's sweat bountifully dripping down onto
Dakota's body as their eyes bored into each other, they decided they were
officially boyfriends.

That first time was everything Dakota had imagined it would be, but it
proved one of the best times too. Trent was the outgoing one of the pair,
a guy with tons of friends who always projected confidence and could
easily have plans every night of the week. As the boys grew closer and
Dakota spent more time with his new boyfriend, he realized it was all a
facade. Trent was deeply insecure, intensely jealous whenever he believed
he wasn't the best at something. The list had gotten long: Dakota had
better grades, a supposedly more ideal body, an apparently slightly
bigger dick even though Trent was taller. He'd read more books and always
wrote better essays; his SAT scores were higher and the university had
given him a bigger scholarship. Everything in their lives was suddenly a
competition even though Dakota didn't care at all about supposedly being
on top. He was always telling Trent that none of it mattered.

When the boys went places together, Trent was inevitably convinced that
more people were staring at his boyfriend, never hesitating to complain
about it. They stopped going to the gay bar because too many people were
hitting on Dakota instead of Trent. They stopped going to parties as
often because Trent worried his friends liked Dakota better than they
liked him. The man was constantly threatened, no amount of reassurance
ever sufficient to convince him that he was good enough. They'd fucked
often in the beginning, even if the sex had rarely matched their first
time, but as Trent's inadequacies mounted intimacy receded too, until the
couple had reached the point where it completely stopped.

Sitting in the car thinking back on everything, Dakota felt like an idiot
for staying this long. What the fuck had he been afraid of giving up? The
cute boy who'd uttered sweet words, who'd kissed Dakota passionately and
always touched him lovingly, who'd eagerly fucked his brains out, he was
a deceptive veneer. The real Trent was the resentful, controlling,
jealous man sitting in the driver's seat right now. He wasn't the person
Dakota had fallen in love with. That charming boy was a ghost.

Looking over at Trent, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, Dakota finally
admitted to himself that their relationship was doomed. He gazed back out
the window, long since rolled up to meet his boyfriend's insistent
demands, into the liberty stretching bountifully beyond the cage. That
was where he belonged, out roaming the blissful freedom away from Trent,
not imprisoned here mourning for and terrified to walk away from a
long-dead husk.

***

The boys hiked from their hotel to Jackson Square on their first morning
in New Orleans, eating beignets at a cafe before they wandered through
the park up to the magnificent cathedral fronting the square. Trent was
taking pictures of it for some obscure art project he'd mumbled about
envisioning when the front doors were suddenly thrown open, a bride and
groom stepping out with ornate black and white feathered umbrellas in
hand, pumping them up and down as a whole jazz band proceeded to march
out and play loudly behind them. Dozens of well-dressed people streamed
out of the church, waving white cloths up into the air in unison.

"Wow!" Trent said like he'd struck gold. "This is amazing!" He was
eagerly recording the whole procession, panning his phone back and forth
as more people poured out from the church, the brassy notes of the band
following behind the happy couple gradually growing quieter. "I already
love this city!" He looked at Dakota as he holstered his phone. "If we
ever get married, that's exactly how we should do it."

How delusional was the guy? Dakota struggled to hide that he was gritting
his teeth. "Yeah, that was so cool!" he offered, feigning as much
enthusiasm as he could. If he wasn't so worried about ruining the whole
vacation, he would have announced right there that they definitely
weren't ever getting married.

Trent had packed their schedule, presumably because having something to
do would keep them from fighting. They ate shrimp po' boys for lunch,
taking an architectural tour of the French Quarter and then immediately
wandering somewhere else for a voodoo tour that ended at a temple. The
strange place was filled with candles and stacked with offerings, cash
and coins littered everywhere. The guide had warned them all that the
priestess was eccentric, the woman launching into a meandering lecture as
the varied group of people settled into chairs in the temple's courtyard.
She cackled, telling everyone assembled that they'd all been products of
the lustful meetings between men and women, perhaps with the assistance
of Viagra or Cialis. The woman wandered into a speech about how God
doesn't deign to interfere with any person's life. Spirits shape
everything, she pronounced, interceding when people invoke them with
music and dance.

Dakota didn't know anything about voodoo, barely following the disjointed
words the priestess had spoken, but he liked the idea that God didn't
care about his choices. He also found himself more excited than ever
about their planned trek to a pair of neighboring gay bars on Bourbon
Street that night. They hadn't been to a gay bar in more than a year,
Dakota certain that Trent was only permitting the outing because the
places would be filled with strangers they'd never see again. Maybe he'd
commune with the spirits as music emphatically pulsed through the air, as
dozens of gay men energetically danced together. Maybe the spirits would
intercede on his behalf and grant him the courage to finally change his
life forever.

The last tour Trent had scheduled before dinner took the couple to one of
New Orleans' famous above-ground cemeteries, a fitting locale given the
state of things between them. Walking through the gates, the place was
surreal, a huge maze of stone and brick crypts that were packed tightly
together. Some of the structures were obscenely elaborate and
well-maintained, hewn from gleaming white marble, others appearing
ancient and blackened, some of them literally crumbling. They were all
graves, whatever they looked like now. Passing through the rows of
monuments with Trent, Dakota felt like he was burying their relationship
there. When they were back home and both single people again, deciding
who was going to move out of the apartment, Dakota would remember that
his two years with Trent were forever interred at St. Louis Cemetery No.
1.

***

Walking down Bourbon Street with a buzz was everything Dakota had dreamed
of hearing stories about the place. They'd pregamed with a bottle of
vodka, Trent's go-to liquor, in their hotel room, each taking a few shots
before they donned their best outfits and headed out into the night.
There were dozens of bars and restaurants as the boys trekked up the
blocks exploring, even some strip clubs and adult stores dotting the
stretch. All the businesses were set up in old two and three story
buildings that were mostly lined with balconies, metal railing rising up
from the sides, sometimes in ornate designs that stretched all the way to
the roofs. The storefronts were bright and colorfully lit up, an endless
sea of neon signs that promised food, alcohol, and even women. Countless
drunken conversations all blurred together with the loud music that
streamed out the open doors and windows, rowdy crowds thick with
intoxicated people freely roaming the streets with cocktails in hand.

"We should get some drinks too!" Trent suggests, leading Dakota into the
nearest straight bar. The boys walk in without anyone bothering to check
their IDs, stepping straight up to a deserted counter.

A hot bartender wearing a tank top tilts his head toward Trent. "What can
I get for you?"

"Two of whatever you're best known for," he orders. He'd always loved to
do that when they visited a new place together, eager to sample the
unique local fare.

The guy nods, grabbing two disposable cups and effortlessly pouring a few
shots of liquor into a cocktail shaker. Dakota couldn't help but stare at
his arms, bulging as the bartender reached for other ingredients and
emptied them into the shaker, his bicep almost hypnotically quaking as he
vigorously rocked the metal canister. Dakota's dick was hardening as he
pulled the cap off and emptied the contents between the two glasses,
pressing them over.

"What is it?" Trent asks over the thumping music, sticking out his credit
card.

"Hurricanes!" the guy announces with a grin, turning around to the cash
register.

Watching him slide the card, Dakota can see he has huge triceps too. He
knows this gorgeous man's job is to flirt with horny women and keep them
drinking. The gay bars were likely to be filled with even more intense
temptations, beautiful lures that would actually be available. The
bartender smiles at Dakota as he walks back over and pushes the receipt
across the counter, clearly willing to flirt with anyone who might stay.
He could already imagine Trent screaming at him for staring too long at a
man who might actually be willing to take him home. Maybe venturing
farther up the street is a terrible idea.

"Thanks!" Trent says as he signs the receipt, lifting a cup into Dakota's
hand. "Come on, let's get back out there!"

"What's in it?" Dakota asks as they resume their journey, pressing back
into the raucous scene on the street.

"I don't even know." Trent takes a sip. "It's good, though! Fruity! Try
it, you'll like it!"

For a brief moment the evening looks promising, Trent having seemed
genuinely cheerful all day. Dakota knows that won't last, still certain
that their relationship was sealed forever in that cemetery.

As the boys finally approach the gay bars, they pass a detachment of New
Orleans police officers stationed between bollards at one of the
intersections, one of the men sitting up on a horse. Dakota couldn't
believe he was walking right past them with a cup full of liquor like it
was no big deal, innocently taking another sip.

"I think we're here!" Trent says excitedly, pointing up to gay pride
flags hanging from a balcony. He smiles at Dakota. "Guess we better start
chugging!"

They polish off their drinks, dropping the cups into a trash can outside
the bar's entrance as they walk inside. The place is almost completely
empty, the boys wandering through a series of abandoned dance floors. "I
don't think anyone is drunk enough to be here yet," Dakota yells into
Trent's ear over the blaring music. "Maybe we should try the other
place?"

"Yeah," he agrees, sounding disappointed.

They exit the first bar, ambling across the street to the second, a few
people lined up at the door. This place definitely seems more promising.
"Look at you!" a thin older guy greets Dakota excitedly at the entrance
without ever bothering to check his ID. The old man pats him down, his
hands shamelessly gripping the globes of Dakota's ass. Trying to hand
over the cover that was posted on the sign out front, the man shoves the
bills away. "You're way too hot to pay, sweetheart," he pronounces,
letting Dakota pass through the open door.

He stops and turns around to wait for Trent, watching the old man feel
his boyfriend up in exactly the same way, running his hands over Trent's
hips and digging them into Trent's ass. His boyfriend tries to step past
like Dakota had, but the bouncer shoves his hands in front of Trent's
chest. "It's ten bucks, son," he demands.

Dakota already knows he would be paying for that all night, as Trent
presses the money into the old man's hands. He wishes he could have paid
the cover. As soon as they're in the bar together, the mood shifts
completely and Trent's bitching resumes.

"You get in for free but I don't?" Trent complains immediately, shouting
irately over the music. "Seriously?"

"I didn't ask to get in for free!" Dakota yells back, grabbing Trent's
hips to pull him close. "Let's just have fun!"

His boyfriend scoffs, prying Dakota's hands off. "Yeah, you never ask for
anything, but you always fucking get it. And what does that make me? The
ugly one? I'm the one who has to pay?"

Dakota tries to grab Trent again, but he flings his hands away. "I need
attention from someone else right now," he insists. "I'm hot too, god
damn it. And I don't want us looking like we're together."

Dakota had been waiting for the competitive, jealous Trent to resurface
all day, and here he finally is, alive and well. "Then go flirt with some
other guys," he dismisses, quickly stepping away from Trent and starting
to press through the crowd to reach the stairs that lead up to the second
floor of the bar. He attracts glances instantly as he works his way
toward the stairs, though most of the attention in the room is focused on
two beautiful twinks dancing seductively on top of one of the bars, one
wearing a jock and the other a thong. Men are enthusiastically sliding
bills beneath the skimpy straps of their underwear, grazing their hands
against the dancers' hairless skin as strobe lights flash against their
bodies, the boys smiling appreciatively and blowing kisses. Dakota halts
his advance for a few moments, mesmerized by the sight, but then he
remembers he's supposed to be storming away, finally stomping up the
staircase.

The second floor is much less crowded, no barely clothed twinks there for
the other patrons to ogle. Dakota easily walks up to the bar and orders a
margarita, the same drink he'd made for Trent on the day they'd met. He
slurps three of them down quickly, ignoring every guy who looks at him
since he wasn't on the same obsessive quest as Trent. Seeing doors opened
to the balconies they'd sighted on the street, he wanders toward the
wall, stepping out into the humid night air.

The space is strangely deserted, as quiet as it could be with thumping
music drifting out the balcony doors, maybe because it's 85 degrees
outside right now. Dakota notices one guy eyeing him as he approaches the
railing, not bothering to look over as he surveys the animated street
below. Wondering if Trent is getting the attention he craved, Dakota
gazes back at the stranger who'd checked him out, finding the guy staring
again before he shifts his vision to the street. He repeats the gesture a
few more times, their glances always catching. The guy smiles at Dakota
during a final meeting, starting to walk away before he doubles back.

"You're really cute, you know," he offers, a gleam in his eyes.

"Thanks," Dakota mutters, resisting the urge to ignore him. He looks at
the busy street again before he turns his head to examine the stranger,
actually taking him in for the first time. The guy is Dakota's height,
5'10", but he's definitely better built, muscles sticking out from his
shirt. His blond hair is neatly swept across his head, his green eyes
peering into Dakota's. "So are you," he says back. Maybe the spirits the
voodoo priestess mentioned earlier had finally descended on the bar and
deigned to intercede in his life.

The guy smiles widely, flashing perfect white teeth. "You're not having
any luck tonight either? I can't believe that's true."

Dakota huffs, scanning the drunk people wandering below before he looks
back over. "I'm here with my boyfriend," he admits.

"Got it, sorry," the stranger mutters, turning away and starting to walk
inside.

"He's being a fucking dick tonight," Dakota calls to his back.

He stops instantly and retraces his steps, positioning himself mere
inches beside Dakota on the balcony. "Why's that? What's going on?"

Dakota stares back into the street. "The door guy let me in for free but
made him pay," he explains, words freely flowing out of his mouth now
that he's tipsy. "So that asshole insisted I leave him alone, because now
he's desperate for other guys to hit on him and stroke his ego. I left
him downstairs and came up here."

The stranger chuckles. "You guys must be visiting. Kenny is forever
getting people into trouble. He probably did it on purpose when he saw
you two together, you know."

Dakota knows the guy must be a local. "Does he feel everyone up like that
when they walk in? His hands were all over my ass!"

"Only the hot ones," he says with a smirk.

Dakota had watched the bouncer touch Trent exactly the same way, but he
knew his boyfriend wouldn't believe him. "He won't care even if I tell
him that. I think he just wants the attention."

The guy clicks his tongue. "You guys aren't doing too well right now, are
you?" he asks, seeming to instantly perceive everything about Dakota and
Trent's fracturing relationship.

Dakota looks at his face and sighs. "Not really, no. Not for a long time
now."

"What's your name?" the stranger asks. "I'm Evan."

"Dakota," he answers flatly.

"How old are you, Dakota?"

"22."

Evan nods his head. "Well, I'm 28, so I've been in that situation a few
times now. Is he your first boyfriend?"

Dakota couldn't believe the guy was 28. He could still pass for an
undergrad. "My only boyfriend so far."

"You scared you won't be able to do any better if you leave him?"

He nods his head meekly. That's exactly why he'd been holding back on
letting go.

Evan gestures to all the gay men walking up to the bars on either side of
the street. "There are so many other guys out there. Don't waste your
time if you're unhappy. You'll regret it. I always did."

Dakota feels the stranger suddenly grab his hand, their eyes meeting,
passion in his glance as the guy grips him tightly, reassuringly. Knowing
that Trent could appear in the open doorway behind them at any moment is
terrifying, but he still doesn't want to loose Evan's fingers and pull
his palm away. Dakota feels genuinely wanted for the first time in
months.

"Hey, can I kiss you right now?" Evan whispers.

"Um...uh," Dakota hesitates, picturing Trent walking up upon that sight
at any second. But he wants the kiss more than anything.

The guy laughs, letting him go. "Sorry, I'd regret it all night if I
didn't ask."

"No, I really want you to, actually," Dakota says like he's begging for
it.

While both of them are looking out over Bourbon Street, Evan reaches a
hand behind Dakota's head, slowly drawing their lips together until they
gently unite. An ecstatic grin bursts across Dakota's eager face, the
peck making his entire body tingle. The brief, simple touch is more
stirring than anything Trent could have possibly mustered within him at
that moment.

The stranger shakes his head with their faces still close, their noses
scraping together. "He doesn't even kiss you, does he?" he breathes right
against Dakota's lips. "But I will." Evan presses into Dakota again,
their lips smacking together more and more loudly, softly sucking against
each other as they hungrily kiss.

Feeling Evan on his skin is heaven, Dakota's heart pounding wildly as
they frantically kiss. The risk of getting caught evaporates as wonderful
sensations surge through him. This is what kissing a man is supposed to
feel like! This is what he'd craved for months despite Trent's cruel and
inexplicable denials. Dakota digs his tongue across Evan's lip, grunting
as he feels the guy's tongue dart out and flex against his. He drives
deeper into Evan, burying himself in the stranger's mouth, feeling his
random partner's tongue ardently fluttering against his as they ravage
each other lustfully. They make out intensely for only a minute, but
Dakota could easily believe their tongues had blissfully danced together
for ten.

"I don't want you getting in trouble because of me," Evan says as he
breaks away, wiping their saliva off his lips with the back of his hand.
"But I hope that helps you more than anything I could have said tonight."

Dakota looks at Evan pleadingly, desperate to feel that passion
reverberating through his being again.

"You'll be so much happier if you let go and move on," the guy continues.
"You just showed me that. And you deserve it!"

He can't hold himself back, lunging toward the stranger only to be
stopped by Evan's hands pushing against his chest. Even that refusing
touch is electric, the guy's fingers innocuously pressing against
Dakota's nipples through the fabric of his shirt. "Please kiss me again,"
he begs thoughtlessly.

Evan smiles, rapping his fingers against Dakota's body before he draws
them away. "You still have a boyfriend right now! I know he's going to
come looking for you sooner or later. Go on, go find him! Maybe he's
calmed down. Tell him Kenny's a jerk."

Dakota knew Evan wasn't going to relent. He'd only offered the kiss to
help him realize the truth about the situation with Trent. The guy wasn't
trying to take him home. "Thanks," he says shyly, reluctantly starting to
walk away.

"You're an amazing kisser, by the way!" Evan shouts from behind. "You
already made my night!"