The essence

by Hymond Blake   

After finding a mysterious vial, ex-teacher Callum realises the dangers of trying to recapture one’s youth.

It wasn’t the staring that got to me; it was their laughing.

On the first Saturday after New Year’s, I found myself in The Polychrome, a nightclub sandwiched between a Greggs and a lettings agents. It was just down the road from my old work. The entrance was small, the staircase was narrow, and the dance floor was extremely crowded. Every few minutes, I’d get an elbow to my back or a foot to my shin. Amongst the flashing lights, deafening music, and clubgoers who were all taller than me, I started to forget why I even went.

“Fuck ‘em!” I heard my friend Colin, an accomplished accountant with the professionalism of a baboon, scream over the music in my ear as he ordered drinks for us, “fuck the lot of ‘em! You’re fucking better than that fucking fuckhole any-fucking-way!”

I laughed at his passion for the word fuck. He slid a palm along his slick back hair, grinning with his small eyes. He was fatter than me, but the figure seemed to suit him very well. He was a year older than me too, at 49, but he still had the energy of the 20-somethings that surrounded us. I sighed and screamed back in his ear.

“Still, I could’ve done with the money! And I liked the place, the routine.”

“Fuck the routine!” he yelled as he slapped his hand on the bar and ignored the dirty looks the bartenders were giving him, “this is your chance to try some new shit out! So you’re no longer a music teacher, womp fucking womp! What do you wanna do??”

My eyes caught a man some feet to my left. He was taller, younger, and so attractive it was intimidating. Short brown hair that stood over a sharp-featured face and boxy jawline. A veiny neck connecting to a torso that had some muscle on it. His long arms flexed when he lifted his drink to his lips. He wore a white vest that ended just above his belly button, and a black pair of skinny jeans that curved around a small waist and thick thighs. Between the shirt and jeans was a neat trail of hair.

I was tempted to keep taking him all in, but then he stared back at me. Piercing green eyes that sparkled with youth, and stood out even in the flashing colours of the PolyChrome’s lights. We locked eyes for a moment and I felt my heart race, and my chest got hot. He had such a captivating stare; one that made any hormones I had flush down my torso and right to my crotch. I was getting turned on by his stare. In just a look, he had my body in a state of panic.

I imagined him and I together. In a bed, in a shower, in the club’s gritty bathroom stalls, it didn’t matter. I thought in great detail about how smooth his skin would feel under my fingers, how his biceps would taste on my tongue, how his moans would sound in my ear as we made love. He was everything I wanted, not just to have, but to be as well.

He smiled at me, and I smiled back, but I realised too late it wasn’t a kind smile. One of goading, or mocking. Almost insulted that a man of my age, my thin short body, would even dare gaze upon his magnificent physique. He turned to two other equally handsome men either side of them and said something in their ears. Then they all turned to look at me, and they laughed. I felt my face turn red and quickly shifted my head back around to face Colin, who was waiting for my answer to his question.

“I don’t know,” I said, deflated.

“What?” he said, holding his ear closer to my mouth.

“I don’t know!” I screamed, “it doesn’t matter what I want anyway, that window closed for me a long time ago. No point in starting something new at this age. I should just find another teaching job and work it until I retire.”

I didn’t need to look around to know we were the oldest in that club. The people that shuffled around us showed off their clear skin and perfect bodies like they were mocking us. I felt embarrassed, ashamed to share a room with them. To take up space at the bar like empty kegs of beer. I looked back at the man, and he was gone, and I wanted to disappear.

Colin took in my answer, and for a moment, I thought he agreed, until he shook his head and pointed at a bartender.

“Vodka! Six shots please!” he said as loudly and as respectfully as he could. The bartender gave him another dirty look but went to make the shots.

“Fuck the future, fuck the past, fuck everything about fucking everything!” he screamed. “Tonight we’re gonna get fucking drunk!”

He wrapped his arm around my neck and shook it. I stood there helplessly but still enjoyed the attention, laughing at how committed he was to distracting me from my life. I appreciated having him as a friend, and wished I was as extraverted as him. I wondered if he cared about his age.

“I’m not against getting absolutely twatted,” I said, shaking off the negativity.

The drinks Colin ordered arrived in that moment, along with six Vodka shots. He cheered on the bartender as he placed it on the bar in such a lovable way even the bartender shot him a smile. Colin gave her a generous tip and asked for more shots.

“Right, drink!” he screamed.

That night was fun. We drank. We danced. We went back to the bar to drink again. We danced again. We danced while drinking. We drank while dancing. As each hour passed, more of my worries and insecurities evaporated. After my fifth shot, I didn’t care much about life outside the Polychrome, nor did I care of who was watching me dance. Colin was a terrible dancer, and he spun and dropped and jumped more fiercely than anyone I knew.

After the fourth hour or so of drinking and dancing I felt that usual tightness in my lower chest.

“I gotta go take a piss!” I screamed in his ear.

“Okay! But when you come back we’re having more shots!” he yelled back, grinning from ear to ear.

I laughed as I danced my way through the crowd, and along one of the corridors and up a narrow staircase. Luckily there wasn’t a queue and I slipped right through into the men’s toilets.

It was what you’d expect a men’s toilet of a nightclub to be, so I won’t go into too much detail into what it smelt like. The mirror was worn, and had messages scratched into it. One of the messages was a number with the phrase “he’ll suck you off for a fiver xxx” above it. In my drunken state I tried to memorise the number.

There were two stalls beside the two of broken urinals. One had no door, and one did. Even wasted I was still an introvert. I went to open the stall with the door and I heard a loud, deep voice from the other side.

“Fuck off!”

The man’s voice shot through my body. It was so sudden, so loud, and so manly. My heart jumped as I could feel my cock twitch a bit. In the muffled cacophony of the club music, I could hear the man breath heavily, and groan. His groans sounded painful, and during each one I could hear fabric stretching, and ripping a few times. Not only that, but his voice grew deeper and deeper.

Of course, I dismissed all of this as being completely wasted. I knocked on the door again.

“Are you okay?” I asked in as sober of a tone as I could muster.

“I told you, fuck…” his voice stopped to groan. I heard more fabric tearing, “fuck off!”

“Luke?! Luke!”

Suddenly a cluster of voices erupted behind me. I turned to see a tall group of lads sweaty from dancing clamber over to the stall. My eyes widened at their sudden appearance; it was a few of the men who laughed at me by the bar. I didn’t know what to say, and just stood awkwardly in the corner as they tried to pry the stall door open.

“Luke open the fucking door!” one of them said.

The man had curly blonde hair and an open shirt that showed off a glistening set of abs. He looked at me.

“Yo, old dude,” he said with urgency, “did you see Luke take anything?”

I didn’t know what to say, and so drunkenly mumbled a “huh?”

“Did he take anything? Like did he take…”

He looked me up and down. He knew I wasn’t gonna know, so he scoffed at me and turned his attention back to the stall door as the other guys pried it loose.

They reached in and picked their friend up, who was still panting and groaning. They slowly dragged him out of the stall. When I saw who they dragged out, that flush of hormones returned as well as the creeping nervousness.

They dragged out the handsome man from the bar, but something looked off.

His short brown hair looked longer than before, and I didn’t recall his jawline having stubble. Before, he stood as tall as his mates, but now it was easily a few inches above them, and his muscles had gotten bigger. Much bigger. His pecs were blooming through that white vest of his, which now rode much further up his chest than before. His skinny jeans had torn in a few places, and his thigh muscles and ass spilled out. It was the first time I could gauge the size of his crotch, which was hefty, and assumed that had gotten bigger as well. It was thick and stuck out towards his hip. He had only grown sexier in my drunken eyes. My cock was getting harder the longer I looked at him.

The blonde man shook his shoulders. “Luke? How much did you take?”

He didn’t answer. The blonde man shook him again.

“How much?!” he yelled at him.

He looked up at the blonde man. Even from afar, I could still see that piercing stare, and slight smile in the corner of his mouth.

“I…” his deep voice trembled, “I…need…you…suck me off.”

His crotch throbbed, as did mine.

He reached out one of his large hands to caress the blonde man’s chest, who stopped him before he could go any lower. The blonde man sighed.

“Fuck!” he said. “Okay, let’s get him out of here before it gets any worse.”

And so the men lifted him out of the room, down the stairs, and out of sight. I was the only one left in the bathroom; drunk, horny, and beyond confused. It all happened so quickly.

I tried to shrug it off as I went into the stall, closing the door behind me and leaning on it so it couldn’t be pried open. After all of that, I still needed to take a piss, and so approached the toilet bowl.

Behind it, something shined in the flickering bathroom lights.

I peered over, my eyes resting on a small glass vial.

I reached for it. It was cold in my fingers. Dark liquid sloshed about inside that absorbed any light that hit it. I looked at the label, but was too drunk to read what it said. I put it into my pocket, had a piss, and promptly left the bathroom.

I don’t remember the rest of the night. I expect there was more drinking, more dancing. I must have taken an Uber home, as the next thing I remembered was waking up in bed, and a text on my phone about an unpaid Uber ride.

I couldn’t even begin to realise what world I had accidentally entered.

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