1 Chapter 1

The instructions were quite simple to follow at The Brat House, a gay-friendly community center, regarding Friday night’s Three-Minute Dating Engagement:

Fifteen, two-person tables were placed in a circle. Seated on the right side of each table was a single bachelor. All fifteen of those men were of various cultures, skin tones, widths, builds, smiles, and shoe sizes. All were handsome or puppy dog cute in their own way. And all were over twenty-one years old.

Standing at the front of the room were fifteen more men, which included Quiver, Jason, Dexter, Samuel (most of which were my friends), and me. The man-club coaxed me to attend the function, even though I wasn’t looking for a date or a boyfriend, since I had probably had one too many on hand. Jokingly, Brad Quiver said that if I didn’t go to Three-Minute Dating Gig he wasn’t going to be my roommate anymore. Little coaxing worked and I was ready for whatever was about to happen.

No, I had never participated in speed dating before, but what the hell, right? What did I really have to lose? Quiver said he ended up with a few boyfriends from the event. And Jason confessed that he had landed some great one-night stands. God only knew what I would get out of the deal.

Tina, a drag queen who looked exactly like Taylor Swift, was positioned at the front of the group and said to the men around me, “Gentleman, find a seat. Let’s begin. You have three minutes to learn everything you can about the sexy bachelors in front of you. I do hope each of you find your Mr. Right or Mr. Tonight!”

Quiver discovered a seat across from a professor-looking redhead with glasses and intense blue eyes.

Jason ended up across from a bulky, Italian wrestler with no neck or hair.

I chose a blue-eyed doll with thick brown hair, dimples, and a pretty boy smile.

Tina informed, “Begin, guys!”

Blue Eyes took me in from head to chest across from him. He had pale white skin, fauxhawk-styled bleached blond hair, a thin build, a five-ten frame, was one-hundred and sixty pounds, and had pinkish lips. He said, “I’m Ivan. What’s your name?”

I told him, “Adam Schultz.”

“How old are you, Adam Schultz?”

“Twenty-three.” I asked, “How old are you?’

“Twenty-one…You a top or bottom?”

The question caught me off-guard, but I answered it anyway, “Bottom…What about you?”

“Bottom.”

“That could be a problem.”

He nodded. “I guess so. What do you do for your rent money?”

“Professional dog walker. I have my own business.”

“Really?” Blue Eyes raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

“You don’t believe me?”

He shook his head. “Not particularly.”

I said, “We have no chemistry, do we?”

“You haven’t made my dick hard. Is that what you mean?”

“It’s exactly what I mean,” I replied, sat back in my chair, rolled my eyes, and waited for Tina to ring a bell, which would allow me to move onto the next bachelor.

* * * *

Bachelor number two was hotto the nth degree. He was suntanned-perfect, six-five structure, two-hundred and forty pounds of all muscle, had twinkling almost-purple eyes, scruff on his cheeks and chin, coat of arms tattoo on his right bicep, chest the size of an Army tank, and a broken nose that was sexy as hell.

I sat across from his hulking frame and asked, “What’s your name?”

He tapped his nametag sticker and said, “Tonto.”

“Honestly?”

“For real. It’s on my birth certificate.”

“My name is Schultz…Adam Schultz.”

“You Jewish?”

“One-hundred percent. Do you like Jews?”

“You’re uncut, right?”

I nodded. “Why, do you prefer cut?”

He shook his head. “You play sports, Schultz?”

“I walk dogs. What do you do?”

“Professional football player?”

“For the Kingstons?”

He nodded.

“What position?”

“What position do you want me to play?”

“Tight-end?” I said. Why not? I didn’t want to be a prude and not play with him.

“Too cliché. Pick another position.”

“Overtop me?” I asked, being easy, and smiling from ear to ear in the process.

“I like you, Shultz…and your uncut shaft.”

“My eight-inch uncut shaft,” I corrected. “How big is your wanker?”

“Wanker?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow with a rather boyishly rugged smile on his handsome face.

“Your dick,” I corrected. “How long is your dick?”

“Let’s just say I can tickle the back of your throat when I fuck you from behind.”

“Wow, that’s pretty long.”

Tina rang the bell and my short date with Tonto ended.

Before exiting his table I heard him say, “I’ll keep you in mind, Schultz. You were kind of fun.”

“Just imagine how I am in bed,” I provided, sauntered to the next table and bachelor number three.

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