Mitch couldn’t say if he was relieved or disappointed that the inside of the gay bar wasn’t anything like what he’d expected. At first glance it seemed like any regular bar.
“What do you want to drink?” John asked.
“My treat,” Mitch insisted, trying to pull his wallet out of his front jeans pocket—no easy task given how tight the darn things were.
“Need a hand there, big guy?” A young man asked, seemingly popping up out of nowhere.
Mitch studied the newcomer. He was thin, painfully so. His hair was black, but looked dyed. He had a side-swooping bang that covered his right eye. And if Mitch thought his own clothes were tight, they seemed positively roomy compared with the ones this guy was wearing. Mitch was amused by the guy’s obvious interest in him, but this soon changed when he sens
