It was a Saturday night, and The Male Box, Harry’s favorite gay bar, was packed. A dance version of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” bombarded the patrons from all angles. There were men everywhere—lined up for drinks, dancing, waiting to dance, waiting for something more—but none of them was the man Harry Fielding was looking for.
“I don’t believe you dragged me here again,” said Cody, his best friend.
“I hardly twisted your arm,” Harry said. He was sure this was the night. It was the Saturday before Christmas.
“I hate it when we come here,” Cody said. “None of these men know we’re alive. That song from Chicago is about us.”
“Which song?” Harry asked, barely paying attention. The charity stand should’ve been big. Why couldn’t he see it?
“‘Mister Cellophane’,” Cody answered. “They look right through us, walk right by us….”
“I don’t give a shit,” Harry said. “Tonight, Javier is going to have to pay attention to me.”
“Yeah, right,” said Cody with a theatrical roll of his eyes. With anyone else it would have looked silly, but Cody somehow always carried it off. It was just one of the things Harry loved about his friend. “Why will he have to pay attention to you?”
“Because, Butthole,” Harry snapped, “he won’t have a choice. I’ll be sitting right in his damned lap. He won’t be able to ignore me.”
Cody shook his head.
Harry smiled wistfully. “I’ll finally be able to say something to him, Cody.”
“And he’ll be totally enthralled with your personality and turn away from his hunk friends?”
“Why are you being this way?” Harry shouted, and then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to get mad. He’d been looking forward to this night all week. Javier was playing “Santa,” and ten bucks for a picture for charity meant he would be sitting smack-dab in the lap of his fantasy man. He’d be able to touch him. And if Javier looked anything like the Santas in years past, Harry’s fantasy wouldn’t be wearing much. Harry would get to touch quite a lot.
“I’m sorry,” Cody said. “I just know these guys, Harry. I don’t know why you obsess with their kind.”
“Their kind?” Harry asked, still searching for the Christmas display. The Male Box was a big bar, but not that big. “What ‘kind’ is that?”
“Clones,” Cody said.
“Says the hairdresser!” Harry laughed.
“Hairstylist,” Cody corrected with a wiggle of his hips. “At least we’re friendly. We’re real. Guys like Javier just don’t have anything to do with guys like us, Harry. They have a reputation to uphold. They can’t be seen—”
“With guys like us? Right! Average. I’m so fucking average I could scream.”
“I don’t think you’re average,” Cody said.
“There!” Harry cried, having finally spotted what he was looking for. He pointed to a large arch in the far corner of the room. It had “Mr. Santa” painted across it in red and green glitter. “How the hell did we miss it?” Harry darted through an opening in the crowd, and there he was.
Javier Torres.
Looking like a leather god.
“Fuck,” Harry gasped.
Javier was sitting in a large chair, dressed all in leather, just like the picture in the ad. He was smiling, his eyes twinkling in a way Harry had never seen. It made his heart pound. The image was hardly that of any Santa from Harry’s childhood. Not the kind he’d waited for to bring him his toys on Christmas morning.
But now that he was an adult? Javier was a Santa Harry would be more than happy to find coming down his chimney. If he had one.
Javier had let his beard grow for the event and was scruffier than Harry had ever seen him. He liked the effect. Javier’s broad, lightly hairy chest was framed by a small bar vest and crisscrossing harness. He appeared to be wearing chaps, and Harry could only hope they were assless. Maybe he’d actually see Javier’s butt? The only real concession the leatherman had made to being Santa Claus was a Santa-style hat, but of course it was black leather instead of red wool or flannel.
The sight took Harry’s breath away and caused a stirring in his jeans. How could any man be that gorgeous? Harry wondered. Two, combined maybe, three for sure. But one?
Javier was teasing the twink in his lap, whispering to him (which caused an explosion of girl-like giggles) and then reached up and unerringly found the young man’s nipple through his shirt and gave it a pinch just as they were both bathed in a flash of light as the photographer took their picture.
“Oh my gawd,” said Harry. “If he does that to me, I’ll cum in my pants.”
“That he’ll notice,” Cody said.
Harry ignored him and dashed to the decorated card table where a chubby little bear was selling tickets. “Can I get two pictures?” he asked.
The young man gave him a knowing grin and said, “You sure can, you sexy thing. You Kansas City men are so hot!”
Harry didn’t even hear the compliment as he handed over his money and snatched up his tickets. He ran to get in line. Luckily, there were fewer than a dozen men in front of him. Men? To his surprise, he saw there was a little old woman in front of him. She was all dressed in red and even had little round glasses. Why not? he thought. He could be generous with his fantasy. It was Christmas, after all, and why shouldn’t she have a little holiday cheer?
Harry got more and more excited the closer he got to the front of the line. He finally realized the outfit he’d chosen, tight jeans and a red and green polo shirt, was not going to hide his arousal. Fuck it. It would just make a hotter picture. Pictures.
Harry had lusted after Javier for a year. Ever since the night when he’d been leaning against a post at the Male Box, all morose that another online “date” had apparently ditched him, when he realized there was a huge hunk of a man looming over him. Like Harry, the man was resting against the post, but with an arm over his head. The position and the fact that he was shirtless meant that incredibly muscled man’s left pectoral was mere inches from Harry’s face.
The man’s scent was strong, without deodorant, but not offensive in the least. It shocked Harry how sexy it was, and he found himself leaning closer into Javier, trying to draw in more of the man’s smell. When he realized the man was looking down at him, Harry found himself horrifyingly embarrassed. The man sneered and, reaching out with his other hand, took the back of Harry’s head and shoved his face against his nipple. “Suck it,” the man growled a command. “Do it. Suck it!”
Harry had tensed up, but in those strong arms, something happened. He felt his resistance go away, and he melted against the god and did as ordered. He sucked on the nipple, along with some of the man’s silky chest hair.
“Harder!”
Again Harry did as he was told and found his senses rocked by the man whose name he would discover later was Javier. Harry’s head swam in Javier’s essence, and his cock stiffened in his pants.
“Bite it,” came the next order.
To Harry’s surprise, he did just as he was told. It was hot! Not nasty or gross or revolting. It was just clean, slightly tangy, all man. Harry, who rarely precame, felt himself getting wet. Never had anything like that happened to him. To be so totally possessed by another man…. No wonder there were men into the submission. He’d watched the leathermen from afar, and while he’d liked their bodies, some of their play seemed ridiculous or even silly.
After that night, Harry never felt that way again.
A moment later, Javier shoved him away and sauntered off into the crowd with a laugh. Harry had run home, first to masturbate—ejaculating as if he were eighteen—and then (even though he was exhausted) to phone Cody to tell him everything.
Harry always told Cody about everything. His buddy gave new definition to the idea of best friends.
The incident with the leatherman had caused a profound change in Harry. He sought out and found Javier’s name and started looking for him and his crowd from that day forward.
Cody hadn’t really understood, but he’d gone with it. That was one of the things that Harry found so special about his friend. While they didn’t have one hundred percent matching opinions, they allowed each other to be just who they were.
Cody had even sympathized with Harry about what happened next.
Harry had hardly been able to wait to see Javier again, to see what naughty thing Javier would do to him next. Surely something wild.
But when Harry had finally seen Javier, the man hadn’t recognized him or even given him notice. Harry had jerked off a dozen times waiting for their second meeting and what it might entail, only to be dismissed as if he didn’t exist. For some reason, it had been devastating. Only after reflection did Harry realize he was acting like a love-struck teenager, but the knowledge didn’t relieve him of his feelings. They seemed to have gone bone deep, and he couldn’t shake how much he was drawn to the larger-than-life leatherman.
Well, Javier would know he existed after tonight.
Cody appeared at Harry’s side. “You’re next.”
“I sure am,” Harry said, heart pounding.
Except that the old woman ahead of him (who had been whispering in Javier’s ear) had no sooner gotten her picture taken when Javier stood up, a strange expression on his face, and announced that he was done for the night.
“What?” Harry cried out.
“Sorry, man, I’m wiped. Don’t worry, there’s someone taking my place. You’ll get your picture taken.”
Before Harry could even take in that his chance was gone—he was almost too stunned to see that Javier was indeed wearing assless chaps, and Harry was viewing that perfect butt for the first time—a new Santa had taken the man’s place, and Harry had been shoved into his lap. Except this Santa was no leather god. He was a big bear of a man, looking much more authentic. Except authentic was not what Harry had wanted. If he’d wanted a real-looking Santa, he would have gone to Walmart.
“No!” he cried, just as the first of his ten-dollar pictures was taken.
This can’t be happening, Harry thought, nearly bursting into tears just in time for his second picture.
The Santa Claus gave him a cheery “ho-ho-ho” and said in a deep rumbling voice, “And have you been a good boy this year?”
“What?” Harry said, incredulous.
“I want to know if you were a good boy!” The man laughed, voice as jolly as could be. “And what you want for Christmas.”
“Him!” Harry all but shouted, pointing at the place where Javier had vanished. “I want him!”
