Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The story contains descriptions of relationships and sex between men. Anyone who is forbidden by law to read such material must stop now. This story is being posted to the Nifty Archive solely for the enjoyment of its adult readers.
Like a Cat on a Hot Tin Roof Created Wednesday January 28th, 2009
by Junior
Prelude: This story is very much based on my life the past 5 years, at times it gets very close to reality; I changed up all the names, including bars/restaurants/etc. Some of it is fiction. It begins in Toronto, but the setting moves south of the border, to the place where I live now. This is my first attempt at trying to keep you entertained; my writing may suck at the beginning, but since it's backed up by my history, I hope the content will keep momentum when the penmanship lacks.
Chapter 1 - Intro
Il passato che si viveva una volta, può essere ancora vivo.
"I'll make it up to you, I promise babe" shouted Greg through the artificial fog inside the bar. That had become his mantra in the past few months. He is 26, a 5'11 Scorpio from London UK with a lip ring and a laid back attitude to life that you couldn't find anywhere else in all of Toronto. He's been here for less than a year and already had 3 businesses going successfully, including this one tonight as the DJ/MC for the freshly opened night clubs here on Yonge Street in Toronto, Canada. I'm not sure if it was his soft blue eyes, short blond hair and beautiful face, or maybe his crazy ambition and persuasive personality that had me oh so drawn to him.
For the past month an a half, our dates have precipitated to meetings in Clubs he was hosting, usually me sitting at the bar conversing with strangers that I had no desire to really get to know. I would be getting free drinks as my boyfriend worked all the details about the club/bar to every last detail. We would then go home and sleep most of the day, or at least 'til I got up to go to work.
My name is Reno, and I'm twenty years old, born in October on the cusp with enough Libra in me to spend a lot of time reading astrology, and plenty of Scorpio to slap it out when it came time to applying it to daily life.
There was something about this humid July night that made my heart ache even more than before. I just took off. I couldn't believe it, I left the club without another glance. I was already walking south towards College Street to catch the streetcar, when my Nokia lights up with an SMS from Greg, of course! "Good night babe".
Without thinking I wrote back , "I think we need a break from each other".
As the westbound streetcar came to a halt, and traffic stopped behind it, my phone started vibrating. I was apprehensive to reading it. I was certain that he knew that it wasn't what I wanted, it was just another cry of desperation, a harmless threat to bring him closer. His reply was a sharp stab, "maybe you're right". As I read it, a tear flooded my left eye, I was shocked.
As the heavy rail car hovered over the steel tracks, I was left in utter agony. I had no one to turn to, nor did I want to show anyone my weak side. I leaned my head on the side of the car and watched the people on the sidewalk as we passed Italy town. Dozens of people were out in the mid summer air waiting for the venues to open up. I lost focus and started gazing at my reflection. The brown hair and eyes blended with the night.
As I got in my room in the attic, I was about to jump in bed and feel sorry for myself. When I opened up the laptop screen and saw that I left MSN Messenger online for the past few days. There were the usual "Heys" that remained frozen in time as I never got to responding. Among them was one from Ryan. Ryan was this kid I talked to awhile ago randomly off myspace, he was 17. I really didn't care much for him, as previously I saw photos of him and his young friends. Seventeen year olds bore me anyway, and his pictures weren't really that impressive, he was blonde and had a few shots of him in the army cadets with paint on his face. I even attempted to pass him to one of my younger friends by giving him this dude's email address. Anyway he left an offline message with his phone number and that he'll be visiting a friend in Toronto and would love to get to know me if possible after 6:00 PM. With that, I jumped back in bed, and buried my face in the pillow and called it a night, still devastated over Greg.