The bar doesn’t take long to fill up as people go out after dinner, ready to get the party started. I’m on my second drink as I scan the crowd, looking for a tasty morsel for the evening.
Do I want some young guy who’s looking to experiment, or do I want someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing? Honestly, both can be fun in their own ways. Sometimes the experimenter bumbles too much, but they’re always eager. The experienced know exactly how to please, but they can be boring and clinical. Nah, I think I’d rather have the experience tonight.
I raise my empty glass at the bartender to mix me another drink. As I watch him, someone suddenly bumps into me hard enough to nearly knock me off my stool.
“What the hell?” I snap as I reel at the rude culprit.
“Oh, shit! Sorry, man!” says a cute and awkward blond, who’s craning his head back at a group of friends and flipping them the bird, making them all laugh.
Ah, he must have said he wanted to talk to me, and his friends forced him literally right into me. Fucking wonderful.
“Sorry,” he says again, rubbing his neck. “My friends are dicks sometimes.”
I inwardly groan and outwardly sigh. “With friends like that, who needs enemies, amirite?”
“Ha! Right?”
The bartender drops my drink in front of me, and I take a sip. I should pace myself, or else I’m going to get drunk.
I lift my glass, spin on my stool to get a good look at my party crasher. His blond hair is wavy and tousled. He’s not as tall as I am, but he’s at least six feet. His red lips are full, and a favorite of mine, but I can’t tell what color his eyes are in the dark, neon-riddled bar. His skin is pale and creamy except for the splash of freckles across his nose.Andhe looks like a fucking college kid, wearing jeans that have rips in them and a purple LSU T-shirt. Jesus. I don’t mind fucking some young dude, but notthatyoung.
“So, uhm—”
“Let’s cut to the chase. How old are you?”
“Ah, I’m twenty-five.”
That’s much better than him being nineteen or something.
“What’s your name?”
“Uhm, Jason.”
I scan him up and down. He’s cute and looks like he can take a pounding, but he’s too damn twitchy for me. I wonder if he’s been with a guy before. I don’t want to do any teaching tonight.
Before I can turn him down, he says, “Look, I know I seem like an idiot. I just… I saw you across the bar, and you’re so attractive. My friends dragged me in here because I recently broke up with my partner of three years. Then they forced me to crash into you, so I’m still trying to find my footing here.”
I take a sip of my drink and debate taking him back to the hotel with me. “So, I’m your rebound?”
He winces. “Oh, no, ah… well… maybe.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
He visibly relaxes and smiles. “So, what’s your name?”
Am I doing this? Hell, why not? A rebound is good. That way, he won’t want more from me. “I’m Cal. I’ve got a room at the Ritz-Carlton. Go tell your friends that they won’t see you until the morning.”
His eyes grow as wide as his smile. He turns and rushes off, while I chug back my drink and pay my tab. They all pat him on the back and cheer him on like we’re at some tailgate party. I never understood the need to celebrate dudes getting laid. As if wetting your dick is some great milestone in life. Did women do that? Did they pat their gal pals on the back, give them a little fist bump, and tell them, ‘Go get ’em, tiger!’ Probably not. Women are more refined than that. Most of them, anyway.
Instead of walking the eight blocks to the hotel, I call anUberto take us there. We walk to the next street over, where it’s not blocked off from traffic. The silence is awkward, but I’m not exactly in a chatty mood anyway. I’m fine with quiet. Not so much awkwardness.
When our ride arrives, I open the door for him to be some sort of gentleman. He slides right in, and I follow behind him.
“So, are you from here?” he asks as he rubs his hands over his thighs as we drive off. Clammy? Nervous? He appears to be.
“Born and raised in Houston. I moved here fifteen years ago for work before eventually starting my own business.”
“Oh, that’s so cool. What do you do?”
