At the start of my final year of undergrad, the week before classes began, Tigger and her then-boyfriend and I, along with a couple of others whose names and faces I can’t even remember, went to one of the big rock and metal clubs in the city we were living in. It’s not my typical club, really, I tend to go more or less exclusively to gay bars – probably one of the reasons I’ve slept with far more many males than females – but I really do enjoy a good night out at a rock club. It’s the heteronormative environment I feel safest in, I think partly because it isn’t particularly mainstream so there tends to be a bit more acceptance there than in other places. And the music is good (generally), so what’s not to like?
Early on in the night a guy on the dancefloor caught my eye. Short, but as it turns out my age, floppy brown hair and small brown eyes, which come a close second to big brown eyes for me. We sort of smiled at each other a bit, unseen by my group of friends at least, then I lost sight of him in the crowd for a while. I was casting my eyes around looking to see if there was anyone else worth chatting up when I realised that his group of friends had reappeared next to ours, and he was there. He caught my eye again, he winked (I wish I could wink, I look insane when I try so I gave up on that a while back on the advice of some friends), and I smiled; he nodded his head to the side, indicating away from our respective groups of friends; and we came together and kissed. The people I was with found this baffling and impressive in equal measure, as they had no idea I’d even spotted someone so to them the whole thing looked totally improvised and spontaneous. Anyway, a few minutes of quite intense making out pressed up against a wall (me, not him), we left to go back to his.
As it turns out he lived on the same street as the big gay club in town anyway. I remember thinking, I’ll never get away from this place, my nights out will always start or end here. And come to think of it, I think they always did, until the very end of my time in that town. Anyway! We got back to his, to the bed, and somewhere amongst groping hands and writhing libs our clothes came off and I found myself on my back with him sucking on my neck. I actually really like having my neck licked, I think everyone does but it really drives me wild. He seemed to really like doing it, he was down there for ages though I never thought anything of it at the time. We got down to the sex – him on top, didn’t last long, was fun though.
Afterwards I went to the bathroom and then I came back the room was lit up with the blue glow of the TV. “I’ve put on a DVD to help us get going for round two,” he said. Brilliant!, I thought, watch some porn to get us in the mood and go again.
He had put on Vampire Diaries. What the hell? You have to be kidding. “This… is what turns you on?”
“Yep, the blood and the biting, it’s so sexy.”
I left. I can’t even remember what my pretext was, I think I might have been “working in the morning” or something, but I was out of there like a bullet. Each to their own, but really, anyone with vampire fantasies isn’t someone I want to be in bed with, I don’t fancy getting some sort of blood-borne disease in the bedroom, thanks. It also clicked on my long walk home that that was probably why he had spent so much time around my neck and sure enough the next day there were marks. Not your standard sort of hickeys or lovebites, oh no. It looked like a birthmark or something. One of my tutors even asked, in all seriousness, if I’d been in a car accident, and they took weeks to heal.