As they walked toward the West End of town, Ricky asked, “Where are you parked?” They’d already established the basics inside the bar. Ricky knew Elroy had driven down from Boston and Elroy knew Ricky had a room for the night at a local bed-anbreakfast. He didn’t know where Ricky lived and he didn’t ask. It didn’t really matter to him.
When Ricky asked this, they were approaching Elroy’s car near the post office. Elroy felt a quick surge of panic because he’d parked in a handicapped spot and he wasn’t visibly handicapped. If this guy was the socially responsible, politically correct type, he might frown on this. So Elroy shrugged and said, “Not far from here. Where are you spending the night?” He’d learned early changing the subject fast had its advantages.
“Up on Carver Street,” Ricky said. “I didn’t decide to come here until this morning. It’s not the best place in town, but it was hard to book anything this weekend on such short notice with so many people in town.”
They were only a few blocks from Carver Street. Elroy rested his palm on Ricky’s stomach and yawned. He wanted to go back to his room with him. “You were lucky to get a room at all. I wish I’d booked something. I’m exhausted.” To make this clear he yawned again and said, “I’d love to just get naked and stretch out in bed.”
Ricky’s hand went lower and he patted Elroy’s ass without caring about passersby. He laughed and said, “I hope you’re not too tired to see my room. If you are I’ll understand.”
Elroy knew he was teasing. He arched his back a little and leaned into Ricky’s side, encouraging Ricky’s hand to go lower. “I think I can stay awake long enough to see your room.” Then he stopped walking, turned to face Ricky in the middle of Commercial Street, and kissed him on the mouth right in front of a group of homely young gay guys all in bad drag.
They kissed so long in the middle of the street that one of Provincetown’s local taxi services had to honk to get them to move. Ricky grabbed Elroy’s hand and pulled him to the sidewalk. They laughed while the nasty little Provincetown taxi driver shouted, “Get a fucking room.” This wasn’t unusual in Provincetown, Massachusetts. The queens who went there had more attitude than any other place on the planet, and those who lived and worked there despised the tourists in spite of the fact that these tourists paid their bills. Even the drag queens were mean—and not very well turned out. It was one of the reasons Elroy had always felt so comfortable there. He didn’t have to pretend to be polite. He could be even nastier than they were because he could buy and sell them all.
After that, Ricky led him up to where Carver Street crossed Bradford. The lobby of the old broken-down hotel reminded Elroy of a time capsule from the 1980s, with potted palms, large wicker chairs, and threadbare carpets in pink and blue. The paint on the woodwork was chipped and the hardwood floors buckled and squeaked. Though Elroy was not familiar with this bedband-breakfast, he had heard rumors about it. This was the kind of place in Provincetown that didn’t change the soap in the bathrooms or the sheets on the beds between guests.
On the way upstairs they passed a painfully thin young man who wore his hair too short for his large nose. A good meal would have done him good; longer hair would have created a miracle. They were still holding hands. The young man gaped at them, turned to see where they were going, and didn’t move until he saw them shut the door to Ricky’s room and lock it. If Ricky had left the door open, the big-nosed young man probably would have joined them without an invitation. Elroy had also heard this was the kind of place where men left the doors to their rooms wide open, hoping someone will join them.
The room turned out to be even more dismal than the jaded palm tree lined lobby. The bed, although painted black now, reminded Elroy of that hideous 1950s mass-produced red mahogany furniture that had once belonged to someone’s grandmother, and now some poor deluded soul thought it was an antique when it was nothing more than old used goods. The bedspread was even worse: a threadbare chenille affair with pink and blue flowers that could have belonged to someone’s great-grandmother. The white walls had yellowed with time, the hardwood floors were stained and scratched, and the sheer white curtains on the window had turned a pale shade of gray. And it smelled of dust and damp towels. Elroy shuddered to think about what he’d find if he looked under the bed or behind the tables.
This wasn’t the first time Elroy had been in a sleazy hotel room and it wouldn’t be the last. Although he never would have booked a room like this for himself, being there with a guy like Ricky only made the experience more exciting. He didn’t even wait for Ricky to make the first move. When they entered, Ricky said he had to use the bathroom. Elroy smiled and said, “I’ll be here when you get back.” Before Ricky had a chance to shake his dick and flush the toilet, Elroy’s clothes were piled on a green vinyl Danish modern chair.
When Ricky stepped out of the bathroom, Elroy was already on someone’s grandmother’s painted bed—sprawled out naked, face down, with his legs spread. He sent Ricky a backward glance and said, “I hope you don’t mind if I get comfortable.” There were few thrills he enjoyed more than getting naked for a man he’d just met.
Ricky had already begun to pull off his shoes by then. As he struggled with his socks, he said, “Fuck no, man.” When Ricky was naked, he climbed on top of Elroy and wrapped his arms around Elroy’s shoulders. He didn’t seem shy about what he wanted. He pinned Elroy to the bed and started to buck his pelvis immediately. Elroy submitted by spreading his legs a little more and turning his head so they could kiss. Each time Ricky’s dark stubble brushed against Elroy’s cheek, a surge of energy caused his scrotum to tighten. The worst, most hideous possible way to describe his feelings when he was with men like Ricky would have been to say he felt cute electric tingles, or that he felt something melty and warm inside his body. The best way to describe how he felt with men like Ricky would have been to say his whole fucking body exploded with dirty raw passion and he couldn’t seem to get enough no matter how hard he tried.
Ricky maintained control without trying hard. After he’d pinned Elroy face down for a while he turned Elroy around and pinned him on his back. This time Elroy’s legs opened wider and he lifted them up in the air. He rubbed his heels across Ricky’s hips and his toes curled back in an exaggerated way he couldn’t have controlled if he’d tried. So many of the things he did in bed with men were instinctive and didn’t call for concentration. Like the way he threw his arms back over his head when handsome scruffy Ricky started to suck on his nipples. Elroy had a nice defined chest; he spent more time on his chest muscles at the gym than any other part of his body because he knew men liked big chests. He also had slightly larger nipples that most men seemed to enjoy. Ricky seemed to like them because he sucked on them for a long time.