Cherry
"No One's Cherry"

"I am not a virgin." Crispin wasn't anywhere near a virgin in theory, reality, or even physical proximity. He was at his friend Marc's Rainbow Barbeque party. There was no such thing as a virgin among Marc's favorite flamers.

"You so are." Marc toasted him with a glowing green margarita, which looked unnatural as hell. "You're a cherry."

"Marc, I was married for ten years. There's no way I can be a cherry." Crispin was thirty-two years old. He'd been in the army. No cherry.

"Yes, yes. Women." Marc flapped his free hand. "You got divorced because you were gay, and you've never so much as touched another dick. Ergo, virgin."

"Hey, I can't help it if the only fruity thing about me is my name." He didn't set off gaydars, or so he was told. Hell, he was damned manly, especially compared to Marc's buddies. Crispin had to admit he liked his men as manly as him. "You know how I feel about that. Until I can find a guy..."

"Who can take you and make you like it. Yes, darling, but that means you'll never get laid. Look at you. You're huge!"

He was not huge, either. But at six-one and two-hundred pounds of sold muscle, Crispin knew he could be a little intimidating. He wasn't a size queen or anything. He just had to stay in shape for his job.

Still, Marc's frank admiration made him flex a little.

"So not a virgin."

"So very much so." Marc glanced around, eyes lighting up when they landed on something beyond Crispin's shoulder. "Glenn! Come here a moment, love. I have a question to pose to you."

Crispin rolled his eyes before he turned around, expecting to see another skinny little queen with perfect hair, like most of Marc's friends turned out to be.

Glenn was so not one of those.

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