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QColumn: A Gay In The Life: As Luck Would Have It

In the conclusion of this two-parter, Steve Prince finds out if his Luck has run out or if his Luck is just really, really drunk. Read part one here.
As Luck Would Have It
By Steve Prince
“My name is Luck.” He said in a graveled whisper.
Luck? What kind of name was Luck? He danced up against me and pressed his hard cock against my leg. I’m not gonna lie–I wanted it.
As he pulled me toward him I was able to view Luck clearly for the first time through the haze of the bar. Luck wasn’t handsome and he wasn’t cute. Luck was pretty. His light blond eyebrows hooded sparkling emerald eyes. When he talked, I watched his full lips open slightly, which were complimented by his high sharp cheekbones. His breath smelled like peppermint.
“I’ve been watching you dance for a while,” he said smiling. Ok, normally I should have taken this as a creepy comment, but let me remind you of the beverages I had consumed. It also helped that he was a good dancer. His body was tall and lanky; he didn’t look like a dancer, yet that boy was grinding up on me like a hard up nun on a crucifix.
“I’m glad I was entertaining”, I said. Luck did not hear a word of this because the bar was too loud. The music had moved onto Madonna hence squealing from queens ricocheted off the walls like gunfire in a steel barrack. Since he didn’t hear me, Luck just looked at me with his pretty eyes, smiled, looked at my lips and nodded. It was then that I got it. This boy does not want a date. He does not want pleasant conversation. He wants to make out and I’m good with that.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alex and Troy. I really have the most obvious friends ever. They both are staring at us, all the while whispering. They look like Haley Mills, and well, Haley Mills from The Parent Trap, plotting away to get their parents back together. (P.S. I love that movie). Alex and Troy see me look their way and they both wave, then they point at Luck, and then they give me the “YEAH” head nod. You know that nod, like “Yeah, you did it. Hit it now you stud.” Real subtle fellas.
Behind them I see Omar pinned up against a wall like a poster. I think his pants might be unbuttoned. In between making out he looks over at me and gives me the thumbs up. Then he shoves his tongue back into the mouth of a stranger. On the dance platform, Cody looks at me with a sexy pout, grabs his mega-cock in his thong, and then smiles. That’s his way of voicing his approval. It was odd. My friends very rarely agree on the same restaurant for us to go to, let alone what man I should make out with at a bar. I was taken aback and I was beginning to over think things–which is what I normally do about everything. With the swiftness of a horse galloping across the plains, anxiety swirled in my stomach and climbed its way up to my throat. If all my friends agreed on this Luck guy, then he must be really hot.
Suddenly I felt like I was out of my league.
“I gotta pee.” I told Luck and I walked back to the bathroom.
“Okay, I’ll get you a drink.” He said with a smirk and he slapped my ass as I walked away.
Like hummingbirds to a feeder, Troy and Alex flew to me and hovered around me.
“He’s so hot!” Alex said with his huge grin. “You know he’s the hottest guy in this bar, right? Seriously, he’s gorgeous!”
“He really is,” added Troy very matter of fact. “And you know me, I don’t think anyone is hot enough for my friends. But he is by far the hottest guy here.”
“I know”, I replied with a giggle to try and hide my nervousness. My worst fears were confirmed. I now knew I was out of my league. I’m not the kind of girl that gets the hot guy. Don’t get me wrong I’m no Ugly Betty, but I am not even close to what would be considered “gay” pretty–especially West Hollywood pretty. I have a cute face, but I’m not buff and I’d much rather jack off than go to the gym. Thankfully I have good friends who know when I’m being neurotic and feeding them a complete line of bullshit.

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