Wonderland (6 page)

I
had no idea what White Night was. A place? A party? I googled it, but nothing came up. At least, nothing that made sense. If Google didn't know, then where could I turn? There was only one answer.

I texted Jesse:
do you know what white night is?
and then I waited for his reply. Jesse knew loads of useless trivia, and if white nights had anything to do with anything or anywhere local, he'd know about it.

His reply came:
why do you wanna know about that?

I stopped replying. A bathhouse circuit party? What kind of kidnapper sends you to a bathhouse? I'd never been, but from what I understood, it was just a sex club. With that in mind, I re-googled “White Night” and there, on the second page (yes, there is a second page to Google results), was “White Night: gay dance party at the bathhouse.” They were bringing in the Hatter so at least the music would be good, but what did it mean? Was I just supposed to go?

And I still felt like I should call the cops.

My phone buzzed. It was Colton, asking if I was going to the baths without them. I replied negatively. Apparently, I would be going, but I definitely didn't need the twins tagging along. They were a distraction in the best of times. I couldn't imagine getting anything accomplished if they were wandering around in thin white towels.

Whatever the case, it was a day away. And I just hoped it was the right thing. It seemed innocent and easy enough, curious and strange, yes (and was it strange that I was a bit curious?), but innocent and easy, and if all I had to do was go to a circuit party at a bathhouse to get Steven back, well, I was more than willing to endure what I had to endure.

I went into work the next day, but my mind wasn't really on it, understandably. I watched the hours on the clock tick away, until it was time for lunch. I met Dinah at a greasy spoon around the corner, and ordered the unhealthiest meal I could find on the menu. I was starving, and had to keep my strength up.

“I can't believe you haven't gone to the police yet,” Dinah said, helping herself to some of my poutine.

“Trust me, I can't.”

“What aren't you telling me, Alex?”

I glanced around. The place was a madhouse at lunch, it was rattling dishes and people talking and bad eighties pop being piped in through the stereo. I had to tell someone, and Dinah was my hag after all. I told her everything, about the man at my intercom, and the phone calls, and the flyer in the mailbox.

“Someone is fucking with you,” she said when I was done. “It's got to be some sort of big gay joke, because it just can't be real. Everything is so over the top with you people.”

I grinned. “That's what I'm hoping too, but what if—”

“Alex. You are being sent to a bathhouse for a circuit party. It's not like you've been sent Steven's finger in the mail. It's a joke, a bad joke sure, but a joke. Go along with it, and whoever it is, tell him, when you find out, that he needs to stop watching such bad TV and get some better ideas.”

“So you think Steven is in on it?”

“It just seems too ludicrous to take seriously. Are you legitimately worried?”

“Well I was, but actually saying it all out loud, it does seem pretty preposterous, doesn't it? Maybe I shouldn't even go, stop playing along. Steven and whoever will get bored, and then the joke's on them.”

“Oh no, don't do that, you have to go.”

“You just want to know what a bathhouse is all about.”

“Well yeah, it's not fair you gays get a place all set up for casual sex like that.”

“Bored with Twitten?”

“His name is Christopher, and no, he's amazing in bed.” She stole some more fries. “But I wouldn't say no to a threeway. Why should you get to have all the fun?”

“Sorry honey,” I laughed, “but I don't think your dick is big enough for Jesse.”

I felt a lot better after that, and managed to actually make some headway into the pile of loan applications, et cetera, piling up on my desk at the bank. That had to be it. It was some joke or test or something, maybe even Steven's twisted way of punishing me for my drug fuckup the week before. I finished work, hit the gym for an hour to work off the bloating, disgustingly delicious lunch I'd inhaled, hit the tanning bed, then went home to feed Griffin and wait for ten.

Jesse called around seven. “So are you going tonight?”

“I told you I'm not.”

“Who mentioned it?”

“I don't remember. It's really not important.”

“We won't judge you, Alex. I mean, we're the last people to judge anyone else's relationship. Open is the new married. The couple that plays together, stays together. Just be safe, okay?”

“I'm not going to the bathhouse, Jesse!”

He laughed. “Have you heard from Steven?”

“No, but I'm not worried. The more I think about it, the more I'm sure he is just taking some time to cool off.”

“If you say so. I gotta go, Colton just got home, and I'm horny.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Have fun at White Night.” He hung up, laughing, and I started to get ready to have fun at White Night.

T
here was an alley behind Wonderland. On a weekend night, you'd normally find people smoking joints and sucking dick in the shadows. On a Tuesday, it was pretty empty. Wonderland itself had been quiet as I walked by, and too bad. I could've used a stiff drink.

At least it was about to be over.

Like I said, I'd never been to a bathhouse but did have some idea how they worked and what to expect. When I got to the check-in window, I bought myself a room, and the guy behind the counter handed me a towel, a condom, and little packet of lube. I wouldn't be needing any of them. I was just here to figure out what was going on. I got buzzed into the dark halls, and was immediately hit by the humidity.

I assumed he would call me again, so I kept my phone on me. There were people of all ages and shapes wandering the halls in their towels. They gave me appraising looks, but did any of them look at me unusually long? Was one of these guys the reason I was here?

I found my room and sat down on the bed, making sure the door was locked behind me. It was only nine-thirty, I had some time to kill. According to their website, the Hatter started spinning at ten. Right now, the music was canned satellite house, generic, flat, barely loud enough to conceal the grunts that floated from other rooms.

I couldn't help being a bit turned on. Even if none of the guys I'd seen so far had been hot, moans from the darkness could be made by anyone.

Eventually, curiosity got the best of me, and I changed into my towel so I could wander the halls. I didn't want to be conspicuous after all. I wasn't the ripped leanness of Brandon or the sculpted beauty of Jesse and Colton but I was trim and fit compared to most of the other guys that were there. I tucked my phone into my towel and pulled the towel tight so it wouldn't fall off.

It was exactly what I'd expected, dark and steamy and a bit grungy, and a bit sexy. There was some hot porn showing on random TVs, and shapes in the darkness touching, melding, joining. Down one hall, I could see the metal and leather of a sling hanging from the ceiling in an alcove. I went the other way, my hand on my phone. Why wasn't this guy calling? It had to be nearly ten.

I rounded a corner and bumped into a guy. “Sorry,” I said, but he groped my dick through my towel. I pushed him away, and spun around, coming face to face with Allan.

“Hey!” I said, feeling immediately awkward at running into someone I knew. “Is Brandon with—”

BAM!
He had me pinned against the wall. “It's Alex, right?”

“Whoa dude, what the . . .”

“You didn't see me here, got it? It has nothing to do with you.”

I shoved the twink off me, surprised he'd managed to pin me at all. His eyes were a bit wild, come to think of it, and I suspected it wasn't just ketamine that the boy liked to take.

“You're crazy!”

He grabbed my arm. “I'm fuckin' serious. You tell Brandon you saw me here, and I will cut you.”

The fuck? I had enough going on, I did not need to deal with the threats of some sketchy kid. I walked away, not daring to look back until I'd reached the end of the hall. When I did glance back, Allan was still glaring at me. I rounded the corner and took out my phone, texting Brandon that I had to tell him something.

I went back to my room, my curiosity more than sated for now. It was just after ten. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen soon. If this was all a joke, I was officially no longer amused. And if it wasn't, I was going straight to the cops. Enough was enough.

My phone rang. “Hello?”

“You came. That's good.”

“Look, I'm tired of this, is this all just some joke?”

“It's no joke, Alex. I don't think you and Steven are a good match. I don't think you think that you and Steven are a good match.”

“You're nuts. I love Steven!”

“Do you? Do you really?”

“I'm calling the police, this is crazy.”

“Don't hang up the phone, Alex!” In the background, I heard Steven scream. His voice cut into me, full of pain and terror. I was convinced: This wasn't a joke. “You hang up the phone, you go to the police, you do anything other than what I tell you, and the next time you see Steven, it will be at his funeral.”

“Alex, I love you!” Steven's voice, pleading at me, cut even deeper than his scream.

“Let me talk to him! What are you doing to him? What do you want?” Tears stung at my eyes.

“I want you to have a good time. Go downstairs, dance, do drugs, get fucked. Do whatever you want.”

“I'm not really in the mood, I just want Steven back.”

“Steven wants you to have a good time. Don't you, Steven?”

“Yes! Alex! Just do it!”

Was it some kind of test? Was he still playing with me? “No.”

Steven screamed through the phone.

“Stop it! What are you doing to him?”

“Your boyfriend cut himself shaving, Alex. He don't bleed so pretty.”

“What do you want from us?”

“I want you to prove for me what I've always known. You don't love.”

“I do! I love him!”

“Did you love him when you were having your threesome the other night? Did you love him when you were doing drugs like some loser?”

“Yes! Even then!”

“You don't know what love is, Alex! Go dance and have sex. That's all you're really good for.”

“I will! I promise I will! Just let him go.”

“And don't think you can just say you're going to. I'll know.”

How could he know? Cameras? I scanned around my room. I couldn't see anything. “Let him go, I'll dance, I promise.”

“I will call you in two hours.” The phone went dead. I started to dial 911, but paused. What if he could see? What if he did know? This wasn't a joke and he wasn't playing around. What the hell was I supposed to do?

L
eaving my phone on the bed, I wandered back out into the hall. It was louder now, and busier, and instead of just trolls in towels, there was a bigger mix of people, posses of twinks and muscle boys in designer undies talking and laughing as they walked about, dancing in corners to the Hatter's sick beats. Mirrorballs had exploded into action, and fog was being pumped in from somewhere. In minutes, the hallways of the baths had become a dance club.

I wasn't in the mood to dance or cruise. What kind of psychopath had Steven? Was he watching me even now? I couldn't see cameras in the hall. The faces all around me were happy, some made eye contact. Did they know something? Was one of them watching my every move? I thought about the choices I had.

If he knew what I was doing, and he did seem to know, then how could I not do what he'd said? Dance, hook up? No, how could I even think about having a good time, much less getting a hard-on, when Steven was being held, even tortured, by some loony? All I wanted was to know he was okay. All I wanted was to have him here with me. The only way for that to happen was to hook up at a bathhouse? How was this my life? It was surreal. It was wrong. I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it.

What choice did I have? The man on the phone had made it crystal clear. This wasn't my choice. This wasn't cheating. This is what I had to do to rescue the man I loved. And the part of my brain that kept telling me to keep telling myself that, well, that part needed to shut up.

Suddenly, I felt like I was about to throw up and ran to the bathroom. I bent over the sink, spitting up, my stomach heaving. This was crazy! How was I supposed to have fun?

“You all right there, friend?”

I looked into the mirror and saw the Caterpillar behind me. Of course he'd be here. He followed the club kids, so even though he was straight, a big dance party at a gay bathhouse would have too many business opportunities for him to pass up. He was wearing his jacket, even in the heat. I let out a disgusted grunt. He was the last person I wanted to see . . . or was he? There was no way I could have fun sober . . . and maybe with a little help, I could forget.

“Need a party favor?”

No, it was stupid, I thought. What if the guy called back and I was too fucked up to respond? On the other hand, at least I wouldn't be freaking out with worry.

“What do you recommend?”

He pulled out a little pink pill. “Take this,” he said, pushing it between my lips like communion. I washed it down with a handful of water.

It didn't take long to feel the heat radiating through me, from the steam, from the pill. I couldn't remember the last time I'd taken Ecstasy. I didn't know people even still did. Wonderland was all K and G and coke. The lights were brighter now, and I found my way downstairs, where the Hatter had set up a temporary DJ booth. He nodded at me as I passed through the doorway into a cloud of steam.

It was the wet area. Showers lined one wall. In some, guys rinsed off. In others, guys got off, stroking themselves, or getting head. They watched me as I walked by, and I watched them watching me. I was hard under the towel, and the steam filled my lungs. Lasers bounced off the tiles, green and red, and I followed their lines into the steam room.

It was dark here, and the music was muted. The steam was thick, and occasionally I'd pass someone in the fog. They would touch me, or I would touch them. They were faceless. I was faceless. My mouth was dry, and my dick was hard. I needed to sit down.

I found an alcove with a little bench, off the main path of the steam maze. I pulled off my towel and wiped the sweat from my face. My hands brushed over my chest, goose bumps in the steam. I chuckled. I'd forgotten how good it could feel, Ecstasy. In the warm glow, the “why” of what I was doing was barely there. I was floating.

I felt someone else's hand on my leg. I couldn't see his face. His face didn't matter. My eyes were closed and it felt too good. His mouth was wet and cold in the heat. My hands were in his hair. I grunted. His mouth pulled off me. “Don't stop,” I told him.

“Alex?”

I recognized that voice, through the Ecstasy fog. Who was it? I blinked, letting my eyes readjust to the poor light. I knew the face between my legs. “Aaron? What the . . .”

“I knew your dick was familiar,” he laughed nervously.

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm up here for work. Figured I could have a little fun, too.” He paused, sat down next to me. I could feel his knee against my thigh. “Why are you here?”

Why was I here? I couldn't focus. All I could think of was how good he'd felt. I pulled his mouth to mine. He let out a moan. Our tongues danced to the music, in the steam, in the dark. It was familiar and new and warm and wet, slick and fast and hard. I let myself fly.