Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love by Rob Rosen Read Free Book Online Page B

way under. (Yeah, yeah. Enough of you up there. Where were you back then when I needed you?)
    I took the spoon and the mirror and took a bump up each nostril. It went down a little smoother this time. (No, a different spoon and mirror than I had used that morning. This one he pulled out of the glove compartment. That should’ve told me something right there, huh?)
    The next few minutes we drove in silence. By then, my mind was racing with all kinds of thoughts. I mean, there I was, zooming to Lord knows where with a man I just barely knew and, at times, couldn’t even stand. I was jobless, presumably. I was broke, definitely. And I was now wired for sound. But then we hit the Golden Gate Bridge and I got a shot of the bay and the boats and the hills and the virgin-white fog rolling gently over the lofty, rust-colored bridge, and I just, I don’t know, I just snapped out of it. I was free, free from that crappy job and miles away from my rat-nest hovel and driving in a snazzy, red Corvette with Tarzan. And me, Jane, felt just hunky-dory. (Welcome to the jungle, friend. Keep a good grip on the vines. The drop down is a killer.)
     
    ***
     
    Shortly thereafter, we arrived at the beach. Well, not exactly the beach, mind you. The beach, as it turned out, was way, way down a dirt and rock path. Going down, in my present up-lifted state, should’ve be a snap, I figured; going back up looked less than promising.
    In any case, we were a third of the way down when William stopped short and turned to me, pointing to the vista far below. The sky, by now, had completely cleared of the usual morning fog and was as blue as William’s eyes. I took a deep breath and looked up and then to the left and then to the right. The ocean was glistening like a diamond, reflecting under the beautiful California sun. Then I looked down at the beach, which seemed to be littered with quite a few people, actually. We moved along and I kept glancing down as we made our way along the precarious path. That, of course, is when I started to notice something a little unusual. See, all the people appeared to be males. And, getting a little nearer, most of them were, gulp , naked.
    “Um, William, is this a gay nude beach by any chance?” I was hoping that it was maybe just National Buck-Naked Day that we’d accidentally and quite coincidentally strolled into.
    He shrugged. “Yup, is that okay with you?”
    “Oh, well, sure. Well, sure, why not?” I croaked out. Thank goodness we were out in the sun, because I was now as white as William’s ultra-expensive sheets. A gay nude beach. I mean, how was I going to lie there among all those naked gay men? I’d just barely gotten over the shock of seeing one naked gay man, and now I was expected to be surrounded by them. Thankfully, I figured, I could just lie on my stomach. All day. Until everyone else left.
    A few minutes later, we’d found a nice spot right in the middle of it all as William threw down the towels that he’d brought from the car. (He must kidnap helpless, out-of-work neophytes regularly, I thought. I mean, he seemed awfully prepared for it all.) Then I helped spread out the blankets and plopped my butt down on one of them.
    I looked up as William got undressed: first the shoes and socks, then the shirt, and, finally, the shorts and undies. And then there was naked William again. He was softer , no doubt, than he’d been that morning, but no less intoxicating. Especially with the sun right behind him and the waves lapping the shore in the not too distant distance.
    “Your turn, Secret,” he commanded. “Off with it.”
    “Er… yeah.” I was helpless before him as I slowly started to undress, while he plopped down on the towel right next to mine.
    Naked, all too soon, and quite tense from both the coke and the situation before me, I just rested there with my eyes closed and tried desperately to forget about my current circumstances. But then a new thought dawned on me, that old