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Life is only what you wonder.

Saturday, May 21, 2005

A Five Minute Story:

Almost, But Not Quite

It had started out pretty typical. Staring and smiling at one another across the bar.
I knew how it was going to end the minute our eyes locked.
He was sexy in that all-American boy-next-door kind of way. Blond hair, blue eyes, lean and toned body. He was easily the best looking guy in there -- aside from me, of course.

He was sitting right by the juke box, and after several minutes of the staring I took a dollar out of my jeans and walked over near where he was.
Someone had to make the first move, and it might as well be me. The ritual of cruising is like a dance, or perhaps more like a game of chess.
The next move was his.

"Hey," he said to me, tugging on the belt loop of my jeans.
I turned to face him and he said, "You're cute."
"You're pretty cute yourself." I replied.
That's how it began.

I don't recall there being much conversation. We sat next to one another, drinking our cocktails, smoking cigarettes, and swapping spit.
"Get a room!" someone shouted across the bar at us.
"Let's go to my place" he said, "I only live two blocks from here."
Fine by me.

I noticed him swaying in kind of a weaving motion as we walked along, and it took him forever to find the key to his front door. How much has this guy had to drink? I wondered.

We got inside his apartment and he fixed us cocktails, and we started making out on his sofa. Kiss me the right way and it's like setting me on fire. It's all about passion. Feeling someone wanting me makes me want them even more, and it just builds. The man knew how to kiss, that much was certain. He left me breathless.
After a few minutes, he said to make myself at home, he would be right back.

I sipped my drink and lit a cigarette and tried to catch my breath. I noticed a CD player and several towers of CDs. I looked through them, selected one, put it in and pressed play. He had said to make myself at home, hadn't he?

The CD was nearly half over, and he still hadn't come back. What could be keeping him? I contemplated lighting another cigarette and waiting, but I decided to investigate.
I walked past the bathroom, and the door was open with a night light on, so I knew he wasn't in there. There was only one other room, and that was the bedroom.
I stepped inside.

Well, well, well! I thought, What have we here?!
He was lying naked and face down on top of rumpled sheets. He looked so adorable lying there. Lightly tanned body, with an ass the color of milk.
I ran my hand along his smooth warm back.
No response.
I turned him over and he mumbled something, but otherwise he didn't stir.
I knelt down between his legs and began working on him with my mouth for several minutes.
No response at all. He was as soft and limp as overcooked macaroni.
If one of my world famous blowjobs couldn't stir him, nothing short of an air-raid siren would.

I paused and stared at him. God, he was beautiful.
Sigh.

I scribbled my name and number on a paper towel (the only paper I saw lying around) and left it on his kitchen table where he'd be sure to see it.

    You were pretty out of it, so I left. Here's my number.
    Maybe we can get together again sometime.
I turned off the CD player and the living room light.
I made sure the front door was securely locked as I exited and walked the ten blocks back to my apartment.