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“I don’t know Will,” his friend said hesitantly. “There’s a lot of great bars nearby. Not sure you should go to those clubs.”
“Ugh the bars here are so boring,” Will lamented. “Marais is basically like West Hollywood. Sure it’s gay, but it’s also lame. Those clubs are where the action’s at, I’m telling you.”
They’d been having this argument all day. They’d come together to Paris to see the big games, and were overall having a great time. After a couple days of watching hot guys, primarily in swimming and gymnastics, Will was pent up, and wanted to have some fun.
He’d heard about some clubs off the beaten path that promised to be more interesting than what he’d found so far.
“I know dude,” Will’s friend tried again, “But I’ve heard some things about those clubs. They’re supposed to be really intense.”
Will rolled his eyes, “I’ve been to all the hottest clubs in NY and LA, I’m not worried about what I find here.”
“I know,” his friend said placatingly. “But all those clubs have bottle service. Your money matters there. I’m not sure you understand what the differences can be.”
Will laughed as he walked away from his friend. “You’re such a drama queen. Have fun with your gaybar boys that won’t put out. I’m going to get some action.”
He made his way to the address he’d been given. There was no signage anywhere to be seen, but it didn’t really matter since he didn’t know the name of the club anyway. Seeing a long line of losers outside a nondescript door, he walked up to the bouncer. “Where’s the VIP line?” Will asked, flashing a hundred dollar bill.
The bouncer looked down at the hundred, while someone in line shouted, “Fuck off prep, there’s no line for you here.”
The bouncer looked at the money again, giving Will a once over. “You know what, I’ll just let you in here.” He glanced at someone at the door who came over to escort Will in.
Will smiled in satisfaction. Money always worked. His guide led him into the club, the music blaring, but the lights barely made anything visible. “You’re taking me to a table, right?” Will shouted over the music.
The young man leading him turned towards him, “Don’t worry, we’re going right where you need to be, but first let’s get you a drink. No need for someone like you to have to wait.”
His ego fully enjoying the treatment, he allowed himself to be led to the bar, where he was given some premium booze as a shot. A perfect start to the night… or it would have been if some douche didn’t blow smoke all over him as he took the shot.
“What the fuck man! Smoking is fucking gross.”
The twink pulled another drag before barely uttering “désolé” while laughing and wandering back into the crowd.
“Sonofabitch,” Will muttered to himself. This jacket is going to smell like smoke forever. It cost more than the twink’s entire outfit, despite it being fairly high end sports gear. Will’s anger was running high, but he realized his guide was almost out of sight, so he let the offensive twink go while he followed behind him.
When he caught up the guide handed him another shot. “Sorry about that. Guys here love to smoke and most don’t care how much others like it. I figured you could use another one.”
Appreciating that at least someone knew his value, Will took the other shot and continued deeper into the club.
Will was surprised when instead of upstairs where he expected the VIP tables to be, his guide took him downstairs instead. When they reached the bottom, they were overwhelmed with smoke. Will tried to back away a bit, but found himself swaying a bit.
“Woah dude, sit down for a minute,” the guy leading him said, taking him over to sit down. Those shots are high quality, but they pack a punch.” Will nodded along, wanting to ask to be taken out of the smoke, but first he had to sit down. Besides, he’d already have to spend a shit ton on his cleaning bill. Another few minutes wouldn’t make a difference.
Will was in a haze, moderately coming to when he realized that he was surrounded by some younger guys decked out in sports and skate gear. He rolled his eyes, and leaned back, still feeling dizzy and hoping they’d just go away.
“Salut!” one of the boys said, dashing his hopes.
“Look boy,” Will growled, “I don’t speak Frenchie, and am not interested. Buzz off.”
“Ah, American,” the guys said with a thick French accent. “I understand now.”
He and his friends mostly wandered off, while Will continued to do his best to ignore them. He kept waiting for his dizziness to fade, no longer noticing all the smoke he was inhaling.
He dozed in and out until he heard the French accent again. “You should take off your jacket, you’re overheated.”
Will wanted to snap at the guy again, but he was right. Cooling down was probably a smart idea. He stripped it off and let it fall to the floor without a thought. Anyone who knew him would be floored by this action, but Will didn’t even notice.
Another guy came by a bit later and gave Will some much needed water. Will chugged it down, and laid back before removing is shirt at the other guy’s suggestion. It really was too hot in here.
He had no idea how much time passed before the first guy came back and sat down next to him. “You enjoying Paris?”
“Uh,” Will murmured, lost in the smoke and spiked drinks. “Not really. The Olympics are cool and all but most of the people suck. Everyone in France seems to think they’re so much better than everyone, which is dumb. America’s the best. That’s why the Olympics rule. We always kick ass. Oh. And this club sucks. Too many bros and skate dudes. Where’s the hot rich dudes?”
The other guy chuckled. “You like rich guys, huh?”
Will was too far gone to realize that he should stop talking. “Of course. We gotta stick with our own. Everyone else is just trying to take advantage.”
“I think we agree more than not. Here, drink this.” He handed Will another bottle.
The last thing Will needed to do was take anything more, but he didn’t hesitate before drinking. The other smiled, deciding to test if Will’s obedience was truly where he intended it to be.
“I feel like your life must be stressful. You should let go more.”
Will chuckled as the latest drug took hold. “Ya, that’s a good idea.”
“Everything I say is a good idea, don’t you think?” the French accent said?
Will didn’t hesitate to unzip his pants and pull out his cock. He stroked it a bit, getting a bit chub, but not fully hard.
“Here,” the other man said. Sniff this, it will make you fully hard.
Will took the offered item, which turned out to be the other man’s shoe. The man took his hand and helping him bring the shoe to his face. The smell was so intense, he almost pulled it away, but he felt his cock get harder than he could ever remember.
“That’s right. This is the scent that you need. Isn’t it?”
Will wasn’t in much position to speak, but he mumbled “what I need” under his breath.
“You know what would be better? Smelling from its source.”
Will found himself suddenly obsessed with this idea, and he found himself on the floor, completely oblivious to how gross he would have previously found that. The guy brought his socked foot to his face, and Will found himself in heaven.
“Taste is even better than smell,” he heard, causing him to mix his sniffing with licking the soles of the other man’s feet. A short time ago, this scenario would have appalled him, but nothing seemed more important right now.
He was happy when the sock came off and was shoved into his mouth. When the shoe was tied around his head, he felt like he was on a crazy high. When the man fucked him, he came twice without even touching himself, lost in the sensation of being fucked mixed with the sour taste of the sweaty socks, and the musky scent of the well-worn shoes.
After it was over, Will didn’t question when he was given a smoke already lit. Another disgust turned just right because he was told it was so. Shortly after, he passed out.
The next morning, he barely remembered who he was, and over time that faded completely. He was happy to give his money over to his new buddies. He was thrilled when they convinced him to stay there. With his money gone, and him too befuddled to actually have a job, he was grateful for their hospitality.
Will spent most of his time working out at his buddy’s request. It seemed like a good use of his time, and it was one activity his constantly foggy brain allowed him to do.
Though didn’t wear much around the house, he was thrilled when they found the sweet American trunks to wear when they went clubbing. He loved fucking America. His job was to seduce the rich Americans with his sexy body, helping the group’s finances in a whole new way.
Will before the Olympics would be horrified at what he’d become, but the small brain that was left told the current Will that he couldn’t be happier.
