Page 101 - Some Dance to Remember
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Some Dance to Remember 71
who doubted they could really be a couple.
“Most bodybuilders,” Kick said, “are more competitive than com-
municative.” He winked at Ryan. “For me, men have to be more than
competitive.”
“What do they have to be?” Ryan asked.
“Like you,” Kick said.
“Whatever that is,” Ryan said.
Both were performance artists. Kick knew how to handle men
beguiled by his handsome Look. Ryan knew how to manipulate men
with his words.
“Even if you have become a Famous Couple overnight,” Solly Blue
told Ryan, “you’re still somewhat of an odd couple.”
“This isn’t the first time,” Ryan said, “that I’ve been laid because of
my mouth.”
“Spoken like a true cocksucker.”
“Like seeks like except when opposites attract.”
Ryan was purposely vague. Solly knew about the musclesex. He didn’t
know about the bondage. He would never have approved. He hated bond-
age. He had to. He could not have sex with hustlers who might tie him
up. That would be a Death sentence. He had canceled bondage trips out
for everyone.
“So, beyond his looks, what do you have in common?” Solly asked.
“I never kiss and tell.”
“That’s all you do. Your magazine is all kiss and tell.”
Very late one night, tumbling in the covers, Kick sat up and straddled
Ryan’s chest. They were laughing at their offbeat affair. “We could be
dangerous,” Kick said. “We could take on the whole world.” He stretched
his huge arms up, flexed, and slowly lowered his hands flat down on Ryan’s
turned-on tits. “You and me, man. We’re on a roll.” Kick lowered his
muscle-packed body, grinding the full heft of his power slowly and sen-
sually into Ryan. Their hard cocks rolled sweaty between them. Ryan
pushed up hard and confident into the dream man whose shoulders and
arms held him in tight embrace. Their tongues intertwined, and pumping
and hugging, they came to the good old bellybucking Princeton Rub.
Kick had Universal Appeal. He was everybody’s type. On Castro,
guys rubbernecked. Cars rear-ended each other. Queens fell up the stairs
at Paperback Traffic. The Norse Cove Deli grew silent when they entered.
Even Nureyev, out touring the Castro for an afternoon, snipped off a fast
double take. “I guess,” Ryan said, “Rudy knows a body when he sees one.”
Kick grinned. Straight men, and gay, pumping iron at Gold’s Gym on
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