Moving in Rhythm

Moving in Rhythm
By Dev Bentham
Mark Apolostolos should be able to have any man he
wants. Handsome and smart, he’s also cripplingly shy,
especially around attractive men. Tired of waking up
alone, he’s desperate to conquer his insecurities and
have a real, meaningful relationship.
He gets his first opportunity when he tags along to his
sister-in-law’s dance class and lays eyes on the sexy
instructor. Seth Miller has a way of moving that takes
his breath away. It isn’t long before sparks fly and they
share a steamy kiss, but Seth wants much more than
just a casual encounter.
If Mark wants a real relationship with Seth he’ll have
to come to terms with his sexuality—but will it be
enough to break through the walls he’s built up around
his heart?
43,000 words
Prologue
Mark leaned against the bar, a gin and tonic warming
beside him. He scanned the darkened room once more.
Nearing midnight on a Tuesday night, the pickings
were bound to be slim, but he preferred it that way.
The last thing he needed was for the press of too much
human flesh to multiply the likelihood that he’d bolt
with a panic attack.
He’d kenneled his dog and traveled to this town
ostensibly for an applied mathematics conference and
dutifully spent the day in sparsely populated lecture
halls listening to research talks, taking notes and
learning. He always sat in the back, as far from the
other participants as possible, so that whenever his
anxiety got overwhelming he could duck back to the
hotel for an hour in the weight room. Still, it was
exhausting. And unnecessary. While his department
head was always impressed that he flew across the
country to these conferences and thought it a sign of
diligence and dedication to his work and students,
none of the other online teachers ever attended. On the
rare occasions when the department met in person,
people would ask Mark about Santa Fe or Seattle or
Tampa or wherever the last conference had been, but
he knew they all thought him odd for going. But of
course, this was what he really came for, to sit in a
darkened bar in an anonymous city, hoping to break
through his cocoon of fear long enough to briefly
touch.
Moving in Rhythm  2
The door to the street opened and a tall, slightly
bulky man appeared. He looked around nervously.
Mark’s heart rate sped up with that familiar mix of
fear and excitement. He straightened slightly and
caught the man’s eye. The guy visibly relaxed and
Mark could almost hear him thanking God there was
another manly man in the place. Mark sipped his
drink, his eyes never leaving the stranger as he willed
him forward. If he played it right the guy would never
know how wrong he was.
As he got closer Mark could see that the man was
older than he’d first thought. His hair was graying at
the temples and there were lines around his eyes. Mark
guessed he was late forties or early fifties. He hadn’t
bothered to remove his wedding ring. Not that it
mattered, but at least he was honest. And married men
were simpler. Afterward, they were always as anxious
to leave as he was to disappear.
Mark smiled slightly as the man settled onto a bar
stool a few feet away. This part was never difficult,
particularly with the ones pretending to be straight.
They always gravitated toward Mark, his muscular
frame reassuring them in a way a more delicate man
never could. The trick was to keep them from starting
a conversation. Mark could look cool, normal even, as
long as he wasn’t required to speak. But the game
would be up the minute he tried to sputter his way
through an introductory sentence. His heart would
pound, his face flush and his mind dissolve, suddenly
incapable of coherent thought. Pathological shyness,
Mark’s own personal hell, only fully kicked in when
he tried to hold a conversation with an attractive man.
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Over the years he’d developed a few tricks. So
when the guy held out his hand and said, “I’m Jim.
Can I buy you a drink?” Mark took his hand, held the
guy’s gaze and raised his eyebrows.
Jim inhaled sharply and nodded. “Yeah. Where do
you want to go?”
Mark shrugged, allowing his eyes to travel down
Jim’s body and rest on the bulge in his jeans.
“Follow me.” Jim turned and started toward the
back door. “There’s a place I know not far from here.”
Mark followed him through the back door and out
into the alley. The August night wrapped around
Mark’s shoulders. The alley smelled of garbage and
piss. Traffic sounded in the distance, punctuated by the
thud of their footsteps on the pavement. Mark watched
Jim’s back and imagined the ass beneath the chinos.
His own hard-on pressed uncomfortably against his
jeans as he let himself tip over into that place where
excitement won over fear and all he could think about
was the imagined feel and taste of the man in front of
him.
Jim turned sharply into a dark entryway. Mark
followed and found himself in a small dark courtyard.
Taking his hand, Jim led him to the darkest corner.
“This okay?”
Mark nodded and leaned in to kiss him.
Jim jerked his head away. “No kissing.” His voice
turned hard. “I’m not gay.” He brought Mark’s hand to
his crotch, rock-hard beneath the thin fabric.
Like hell you’re not, big guy.
Jim rubbed Mark’s hand against his cock. “This is
what you want, isn’t it? A nice, big cock to suck.”
Moving in Rhythm  4
And God help him, it was. Mark unfastened the
other man’s belt.
Jim leaned back against the alcove wall while Mark
unzipped him. “Like I said, I’m not gay. But you guys
sure know your way around a blow job.”
Jim’s erection sprang free of his pants. Mark knew
he’d suffer the degradation of the whole scene later,
but for the moment his entire attention was riveted by
the sight of Jim’s cock, large and hard in the dim light.
He fumbled with his own zipper. He’d been with Jim’s
type before. If Mark wanted to get off, he’d have to do
it himself.
Jim reached into his shirt pocket and produced a
condom. As he ripped open the package Mark sank to
his knees. He inhaled the scent of ball sweat and stared
at the drop of semen glistening in the slit of Jim’s
penis. Jim rolled the condom over himself and held the
base as Mark leaned in, tasting the latex. Mark
enveloped Jim’s cock. It had been a long time, months
since he’d felt the sexual rush of touching, tasting
another man. He played it out as long as he could,
using his tongue and the rhythm of his sucking to bring
Jim closer, then farther from orgasm. Too soon Jim’s
breathing changed and Mark knew he was almost
there.
Mark held his head still and let Jim fuck his mouth.
His hand on his own cock stroked harder, in rhythm
with Jim’s thrusting hips. Mark gave himself to the
cock, hot and hard in his mouth, the smell of Jim’s
sweat, the sight of his pubic hair thrusting toward him,
pulling away. Mark’s hand stroked faster and harder
and suddenly he was coming, spurting into the dirt
Dev Bentham  5
between Jim’s feet. Jim’s fingers tightened in Mark’s
hair and he pulled Mark close as he thrust deep. Mark
gagged and tried to relax his throat so he could take all
of Jim as he felt the pulsing spasm of the other man’s
orgasm.
And then it was over and the awkward part began.
Jim discarded the condom and shook himself back into
his pants. Mark stood and did the same, not meeting
Jim’s gaze. He knew from experience that now that it
was all over, Jim wouldn’t want to look at him. He
wondered briefly about the wife, whether she knew
about her husband’s secret life. It was a double life
Mark could have had. Ruth would have gladly married
him and might even have been content with a man who
seemed more interested in companionship than
passion.
Mark watched Jim put himself back together. He
didn’t look particularly happy. If Mark was miserable,
at least he was miserable alone.
“You might want to brush off.” Jim gestured toward
Mark’s pants.
Looking down, he saw something stuck to his left
knee. He pulled it off. A used condom. Great.
Evidently they weren’t the only ones to have found the
alcove.
Jim shuffled his feet. “Look, I’m going to stay out
and have a quick smoke. You go on back in if you
like.”
Mark nodded and turned to leave. He doubted Jim
would go back to the bar. After all, he’d already gotten
what he came for.
His gin and tonic was gone by the time he got back.
Moving in Rhythm  6
He left the bartender a tip and walked out. A few
blocks from the bar he hailed a cab to take him back to
the hotel. He sank back into the musty-smelling seat,
self-disgust swamping him. It wasn’t the sex that
bothered him. It was the sordid, impersonal flavor of
the evening. Well, what do you expect if you can’t talk
to them?His shrink, a nice elderly woman he had no
trouble speaking with, had offered to prescribe
medication for his social anxiety, but he’d read about
the side effects: insomnia, nausea, memory problems
and impotence. Impotence, for Christ’s sake, so what
was the point?
It was after one when the cab dropped him off. He
punched the elevator button, grateful for the silence.
But just as it dinged open, a couple staggered from the
hotel bar and waved to him to hold the door. He
considered punching the door-close button and
heading up, but then the woman called to him.
“Mark? Mark Apostolos? It’s Ginny Lindstrom. We
were at Penn together.” She smiled.
He recognized her from graduate school. “Ginny.”
He held the door for her and her companion, a small
man with cropped hair and a goatee.
She stumbled as she stepped in, clearly not entirely
sober. “Hey, how’s Ruth? You made an honest woman
out of her yet?”
Mark punched the button for the tenth floor and
shook his head. “We broke up.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she gushed. “You were always
such a cute couple.”
“Yeah. What floor?” His hand hovered over the
keys.
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Ginny peered at the board. “Fourteen, thanks.”
They rode in silence for a few moments. Ginny
snuggled against her companion and Mark wondered if
they’d known each other before tonight. Just what he
needed, the opportunity to watch other people cuddle
and coo.
Suddenly Ginny asked, “Didn’t you have a brother
in Iraq?”
Mark sighed. It looked like she’d want to converse
all the way to their respective doorways. He wasn’t in
the mood, but what was he supposed to do? “Yeah,
Paul. He’s home now, safe and sound. Has his own
medical practice in Lacland.”
“That’s great.” The elevator slowed and the door
dinged open.
Mark stepped out quickly. “Nice seeing you,
Ginny,” he called over his shoulder as he strode down
the hall toward his room.
Once inside the sterile beige room he sank onto the
bed. If he thought about it, he could still feel the
pressure of Jim’s cock against the back of his throat.
But now rather than excitement, all he felt was
revulsion. He kept picturing the cold look in Jim’s
eyes afterward, the sour taste of his own selfrecrimination. Why did he keep going back for more?
He was like an alcoholic bellying up to the bar even
though he knew the evening would end in disgrace.
He’d stop.
Mark closed his eyes and imagined himself alone
for good. It wasn’t the first time he’d sworn to never
do it again but maybe this time he could make it work.
He had a tidy life back at home, a great dog for
Moving in Rhythm  8
companionship, his brother was only a phone call
away if he needed to hear a friendly voice and there
was always internet porn if he needed sexual release.
He didn’t need to kneel on any more condomencrusted sidewalks in strange towns for fleeting
moments of contact with strange cocks. Human beings
were meant for more than that.