James had moved to Manhattan’s East Village ten years ago to attend NYU’s film school. He wasn’t yet thirty years old,  but he already had quite a bit of on-set experience under his belt.

At 6’1″ with a corn-fed midwestern physique, James’ good looks won him favors with the women and men alike. This usually landed him on the “must hire” lists. He had medium length wavy chestnut hair and big hazel eyes. His lean, fit frame perfectly suited his clothes. He could made a simple white tee shirt, jeans and Chuck Taylors look like a million bucks. James was the kind of guy everyone stopped and took notice of when he strolled into work.

Not too far away— but not especially close, either—was a quaint gay bar that only the locals knew about. And that was just fine with them. It was a small space, tastefully decorated. It served as a comfortable watering hole to all those who lived in the area. The bar was frequently visited by a local whom everyone referred to as, simply, “DC.”

DC was of Egyptian decent and, at thirty years old, sported dark eyes, rich deep skin and sexy brooding features. His strong face was framed with impossibly dark, thick hair atop a tone, muscular body. A real cocksman.

DC—and the reason for his nickname—became an obsession to James. He asked around about DC, but the replies were always the same. They’d giggled and say, “Hopefully one day you’ll be lucky enough to find out for yourself why he’s called DC.”

James’ longtime boyfriend recently broke up with him. It was a cold December night, just before Christmas. He got the message via text:

Sorry, it’s not working out. I think we should just end it. Merry Christmas.

That was it. No additional explanation.

James hadn’t been alone in a long time. With the holidays around the corner, he was feeling down. A holiday cocktail at familiar watering hold with local friends was just the thing James needed to get his mind off his asshole ex.

The familiar moth-eaten Christmas decorations comforted James. The jukebox rang played Nancy Sinatra. The place was filled with a modest gathering of regulars, eager to share their holiday joy.

DC was there, too, looking fine as always. Up until this point, his interaction with James was a casual smile or bro-ish nod across the bar. He seemed to always be occupied with someone else in the tavern.

Tonight, though, was different. He caught DC’s eye as soon as he walked in. James settled down at the dark oak counter and hung his jacket off the back of the bar stool. DC sauntered up looking spectacular, as always.

With an impressive smile, DC leaned forward and offered a warm greeting, Happy Holidays. I’ve been meaning to say hello the past few times I’ve seen you here, but you’re always gone before I come over.  Buy you a drink?”

James was flattered that he was on his radar. Being by himself this holiday really sucked. He was grateful for the company. Especially one has handsome as DC!

“Sure. Scotch and soda.”

Several Christmas carols and cocktails later, the were starting to connect. James wondered, How someone so mysteriously sexy can be so gentle and kind? The conversation was lively. DC had an incredible head for knowing things.

Funny how someone so awesome could be a few feet for all these years, yet you never said hello before tonight?

As they continued to talk, James couldn’t help but to wonder how DC got his nickname.  James gathered the gumption to ask.

DC laughed, “Honestly, I have no idea. It started several years ago and I truly have no clue why.” James wasn’t sure if he believed him, but DC seemed sincere.

Closing time arrived too quickly. DC grabbed James’s coat and helped him slip it on. “Want to come back to my place tonight?” he inquired with a smoldering gaze.

“Hell yeah!” The words slipped out of James’s mouth embarrassingly fast.

“I live alone, but I warn you, it’s a tragically small flat.”

“Okay by me. A small place to yourself is infinitely better than a bigger place you need to share with a roommate.”

DC lived in the East Village, too—in a pre-war building. The wood stairs and plaster walls were so old and tired they tilted sideways ,as if they were a movie set from an old German expressionist film.

His keys jingled as he pulled them out of his tight jeans pocket. He slipped them into the heavy metal door. Seconds later they were in the tiny apartment, making out against the wall.

James chuckled to himself, I thought this kind of thing only happened in movies?!

DC was so incredibly sexy. James couldn’t control himself. His excitement got the best of him. Perhaps he would soon discover the reason behind the nickname?

As they kissed, James’s hand slipped down the front of DC’s black skinny jeans. DC was certainly excited. Perhaps DC stood for “damn colossal?” James was impressed, and a bit intimidated.

DC grabbed James by the head and kissed him hard and deep once again. His strong arms grabbed tightly as if he were intending to crush him.

Tonight is certainly going to be one for “dear diary.”

The two men bounced off the walls of the tiny apartment as they pulled each other’s clothes off. Their mouths hungrily pressed together, engulfing each other in their passions.

As with many tiny NY apartments, DC’s bed was atop a loft built in the corner of the modestly decorated room. The queen size mattress laid overhead—three feet below the ceiling and accessible only by a wooden ladder.

DC whispered, “I want you in the worst way. I need you in my bed. Now.”

“I’m yours.” James was ready for whatever his lover desired.

The men climbed atop the mattress with barely any room between them and the ceiling. James rolled over on this his stomach. DC mounted James from behind, breathing in his ear, “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.” James melted. Who knew he was DC’s object of adoration for so many years? DC’s weight was considerable, but James didn’t mind.  It was all so thrilling.

DC delivered as promised. The sex was relentless. James indicated he wanted to try a new position. Without much room, their choices were limited. So James laid on his back and invited Amir to resume what he was doing oh so well.

DC’s brooding, smile was seductive. James’s heart melted. He braced his feet on the ceiling and readied himself for another bout of mind-bending sex. Suddenly, James was distracted by something. A smile crossed his face. He giggled.

“Feels good?” DC whispered.

Hell yeah, It felt damn good. But more than that, James finally realized why his lover earned the name “DC.”

On the ceiling right above him, James noticed the smudged footprints prints of previous lovers. The dark marks revealed DC’s well-earned nickname: “Dirty Ceiling.”

James was now satisfied.