Free Little Square of Cloth by Sean Michael

 
     
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
     
    Designated Bottoms: Little Square of Cloth
    Torquere Press Publishers
    1380 Rio Rancho Blvd #1319
    Rio Rancho, NM 87124
    copyright 2014 by Sean Michael.
    Cover illustration by Anne Squires
    Published with permission
    ISBN: 978-1-61040-783-0
    www.torquerepress.com
    All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., 1380 Rio Rancho Blvd #1319, Rio Rancho, NM 87124
    First Torquere Press Printing: July 2014
    Printed in the USA
     
    Little Square of Cloth
    By Sean Michael
     
    “Are you sure?” Peter looked at Girard, knowing he was wide-eyed, that he had to look worried. “It’s crowded in there.”
    “Totally. It’s going to be great, honey.” Girard patted his ass and gave him a grin. “You have to come out of the closet sometime, huh?”
    “Says who?” He could be closeted. He totally could. Completely.
    Christ, it figured that Girard would ‘borrow’ his computer while he was in the shower and discover that he was, uh, indiscreet in chat rooms.
    “You really want to be a virgin who only knows his own hand forever?” Girard rolled his eyes. “No, honey, you don’t.”
    “I want...”
    Girard shoved him into the Whip and Whistle bar. “I’ll pay your cover! Have fun, kiddo!”
    Oh, God. Peter kept his head down, headed right for the bar. One drink. He’d have one drink, and then he could grab a cab home.
    The bartender hadn’t even come to get his order when a very large, not very dressed man leaned against the bar next to him. “Well, hello there.”
    “H...hey.” Goodness.
    “I’m Master Drake and--”
    The man was cut off by another. “Back off, Drake, I saw him first.” The new man was on his other side, not as big as the first, but with a far more predatory smile.
    “Oh.” Oh, man. He couldn’t... whoa. Where was Girard? “I’m just here for a drink.”
    “Sure you are, boy.”
    Both men laughed, and Peter wasn’t sure it was a nice sound.
    “I am. I just want a beer. Thanks, though.”
    Two hands landed on his ass – and not both from the same guy.
    “He’s trying to play hard to get.”
    “I know, isn’t he cute?”
    “We could share him.”
    “We could.”
    “We should.”
    Peter shook his head emphatically. “No. No, I just want a beer. My friend’s here.”
    There was more laughter, the hands on his ass squeezing. Man, they weren’t getting the message, and he was being pretty direct. Like really. He should just go.
    “There you are, boy.” Now that was a low, growly voice, and it definitely didn’t belong to either of the guys hitting on him. A hand landed on his shoulder, firm and warm. “I thought I told you to wait at my table.”
    Peter turned, finding a stud of a man with these dark grey eyes that almost didn’t look real and the thickest eyelashes he’d ever seen on a dude. Dark hair framed a square face with good-looking features.
    Oh, fuck a doodle doo . “S...sorry. I was trying to get a beer.”
    “I’ve got it covered, boy.” The guy didn’t crack a single smile. “Back to my table, now.”
    The two guys who’d been hitting on him backed off immediately, giving him several feet of breathing room on either side.
    “Sorry, I didn’t know he was taken.”
    “Me either. No offense, man.”
    “I’ll let it go. This time.” The new guy winked at Peter, and not in a nasty way, either, then nodded toward the back of the bar. “Come on, boy.”
    “Yes, Sir.” He knew that was the appropriate response. Now all he needed was enough room to run -- that was it.
    A hand landed