Moving Forward - 1. Chapter 1 (1.1)

Marshall felt as though he was the belle of the ball. Or whatever the male equivalent of that might be.

Partners was hopping with its typical Western Night activity. The club was filled to capacity—wall-to-wall men with the urge to drink, dance, and play games, not all of which took place in the bustling game room. The small, private back rooms were high traffic areas on Western Night, and extra servers and attendants were on hand to make sure everything ran smoothly, and see that some sort of order was preserved.

Marshall and Lee hadn’t been back to Partners since before Thanksgiving. Mostly because they were busy, but also to put a little time behind them in order to forget the fiasco that was Rhonda. The way she’d tracked them down and tried to ruin their lives was a disaster narrowly averted. They didn’t realize how much they’d missed the place—and how much they were missed by their friends there—until Lee received an email from Slim, checking on them and asking when they were coming back.

They returned to Partners the first week in February. A slight chill hung in the air, necessitating jackets, but not coats. The promise of spring was in the air, and hormones bubbled in the veins of those at Partners. Different men kept coming up to the table Marshall and Lee shared with Roy and Slim and Denver and Rye, asking Marshall to dance. Each and every one of them made sure he asked for Lee’s permission first, which was always given. Lee encouraged Marshall to get out on the dance floor and kick up his heels. Have a good time. And so he went with them, and he whooped and hollered and had a grand old time. But he always returned to Lee after just one dance, and never went with the same man twice.

“Thanks for the dance,” Marshall told a tall, lanky cowboy who’d just escorted him back to their table. Only Lee and Slim were in evidence. The others must be off doing something else.

“You sure you don’t want to go again?” the cowboy asked hopefully, and Marshall shook his head. He reached for Lee’s hand and squeezed it, making it more than evident where his interest lay.

“Thanks but no thanks.” He raised his voice slightly, in order to be heard above the crowd around them.

The cowboy politely tipped his hat and walked away, as Marshall scooted closer to Lee and rested his head on Lee’s shoulder. He felt Lee’s lips graze the top of his head softly.

“Have a good workout?” Lee teased.

“Yeah, it was fun. So when you gonna take me out on the floor yourself?”

“Think you have room on your dance card for me?”

Marshall shifted his head and looked up at Lee. “You know I do,” he said earnestly before he saw the twinkle in Lee’s eyes, and knew he wasn’t being serious. They had an arrangement. Marshall was free to do what he wanted, with whom he wanted, as long as he was honest about it, and didn’t try to hide anything. Marshall knew it was Lee’s way of giving him an out, should he ever want one. To keep him from feeling tethered. He didn’t want an out, and he knew he never would. Dancing with other men was just that—dancing, nothing more. None of those men meant anything to him. Lee was all he wanted or needed. And dancing is where their involvement began and ended.

Marshall wasn’t the only one with a growing popularity at Partners. Lee had received his share of propositions, and he’d done a little dancing himself. Marshall couldn’t very well get jealous over something he was doing himself, and he knew he had no reason to, but he did watch Lee’s partners carefully, just to make sure no one was getting what he considered handsy.

“You know something,” Lee said, “I have a sneaking suspicion this has got to do with that damn YouTube video.” Marshall and Lee had found themselves the unwitting subjects of a video which was shot at Partners and subsequently posted on YouTube. In the video, they were dancing together, having a damn good time, attracting an appreciative audience to the dance floor. When the music ended, Lee had bent Marshall over backward and laid a huge liplock on him, which produced cheers from the spectators, who’d also taken pictures, as well as a video, of their exploits. The video had almost been their undoing—operative word almost, unwittingly drawing Rhonda to them, with her threats to tell everyone about them and their relationship. But now that was all just water under the bridge, and they were moving forward with their lives—with love and confidence.

“You mean we’re famous?”

“Infamous is more like it.” Lee snorted. “I guess it could be worse.” Marshall understood what Lee wasn’t saying. That the men at Partners accepted them at face value, and liked them without question. They were safe there. They could relax among their friends and simply be who they were.

“I was talking to the owner about that video,” Slim interjected, leaning toward them to make himself heard. “He thinks business has gone up thanks to you two. You’ve put Partners on the map. Gay men all over Texas thank you.” He winked at them.

At that moment, Denver returned to the table and threw himself into a chair, reaching for his beer. “A man can sure work up a thirst on the dance floor!” he commented.

“Oh yeah? What’s that got to do with you?” Slim punched the younger man lightly on the arm when he scowled.

“I’m a grown man, same as Marshall here. Don’t see you pickin’ on him.”

“Give’em half a chance and they will,” Marshall said. “You know how old men get sometimes when young men get all the attention.”

“Is that a fact?” Lee drawled.