For Just One Dance The Bar Hooker
This is a work of FICTION/ FANTASY/ REALITY. Some things in this story happened, others were imagined. And please, when the sex scenes happen, don't expect much. I am more into this for the love and the sheer craving, rather than the obscene and the dirty. This story does involve two guys loving each other. So if it's illegal or wrong in your area code, say bye and go on. If not, keep on reading. And if you like it, please e-mail. I love it all- hate e-mail or fan e-mail. Let me have it with both barrels.
Before I begin, let me say this- Sean, you were the one that gave me the most. You gave me everything I have now. And although I still catch myself lusting for you, longing to be with you in the most intimate ways, please know that your love and friendship and compassion is all that matters to me. I love you Sean, and I always will. Thank you for being my best friend/ brother.
The Bar Hooker
I was not a fool in love. I knew what it meant to be in love with someone. I knew the symptoms and I knew the routine. I knew the fine line between lust and love, degradation and exaltation. But I was never prepared to meet him. Not in a billion trillion quadrillion years would I have expected to find such a treasure. Compared to him, life was worthless and petty and cheap. Likening him to the most magnificent piece of Michelangelo would be like looking at art as to experiencing the creation of it. There just was no basis to compare. When I first collided with him I found myself at a loss. And when our lives eventually intertwined, I could find not a thing. Nothing but emptiness. A clean slate. A chance to grab whatever it is that the human condition needs. When we were together, I was high, engorged with a bounty inhumanly possible. I was a god, capable of just wishing something into being. Apart I was tormented just to rise from sleep. Afraid and alone and without hope.
I remember the time we first shared something other than words. It was a simple night, not a care, a desire at all. Friendship was just beginning to bloom. He made a statement as to a girl in our presence, and I, knowing her, offered a chance to be with her. Of course, I added a stipulation. And in the cold of an Oklahoma night, I blew him. We ended up at my parents' house, in my bedroom, trying to make love as only two drunken fools could. Nothing happened in the way of climax, but that kiss we shared. That kiss. Right out in front of my homophobic, prude parents' house we kissed. Not a peck on the check. No. Not even a little smack on the lips. The kiss we shared, our first together, was deep and passionate. And for me, I can say, there was no turning back. No more rest stops along the way. Either you get there or you break down on the way. And I think it was then, standing in the night cold, holding each other, that he knew he had me. Then that he knew his lock on my desire and my heart was unbreakable. Impregnable regardless of what I might say or the contraceptives I may employ. He knew. And his knowing- still to this day, I do not know if I hate him or love him for it.
Of course I say I don't know, but what it really means is that I had it bad. I still do. To this very moment, as I peck away at this keyboard, I know. It flows through my veins like the very blood that carries oxygen to my brain. He flew into my life, turned it topsy-turvy, and I never considered any other way. Christ, I love him. More with each passing second of time, I love him more and more. And I think I am better for it. Words from his mouth have the power to move me in ways unimaginable. From peaceful to outrageous to inflamed to flushed- he effects me. And I love it. I love the ride, I really do. Regardless of the outside world or what others think, I do not care. A fleck of time with him is worth a millennia of time without. You see, I know my fate. I know what I do. I know exactly the results of my actions. I am not a fool in love. Perhaps maybe, just maybe, I am a plain, average, everyday, run-of-the-mill fool. Indeed, someone might agree with me. Maybe.
"I want so badly to be part of something." I couldn't imagine what I was saying, to a perfect stranger. Sitting two feet away, downing beers like tomorrow would never arrive, spilling my guts to a complete and utter stranger. But I couldn't help myself. The anonymity was soothing. I would never see this person again, so what if I confessed? Pulling another cigarette from the pack I went on. "I mean, so I fell for another guy? Is that a bad thing? I bet, if you could see him, you would too."
She looked over at me and let loose a patronizing grimace, like she'd been there before, and said, "Well, honey, looks like you and me, you and me, we're in the same boat." She took the lighter from my hand and lit her own smoke. "Baby," she said, "things can be a lot worse."
Something about the way she said "things can be a lot worse" made me crack a smile. He always said that to me. But still the situation I was in felt unbearable. The entire weight of the world, crashing down on me, forcing me to struggle for air, making me realize things I didn't want to know. Shaking my head I replied, "Shit, what do you know? You're just another `working girl' out to make a play on the first available open wallet that comes along." I meant it to sound shaper than it was. I think she knew that also.
"Babe, you just don't know. Don't sit there and play pretend that you're the only one of your kind? The only single living being that has ever felt that way. I know your kind." Exhaling smoke she looked at me, penetrating my mind, searching for a glimmer of recognition. "So ya fell, what is that? You pick up and move on."
Pointedly I said, "What, pick up to the next john, the next lay?" After I said that I realized I was being overly harsh. But contrary to my beliefs I didn't apologize.
She said, "Damn, son, must've been a bad one. Care to tell old mama what happened?"
The way she glanced at me- slight tilt to her head, the dumbfounded deer- in-the-headlights look she passed my way hypnotized me. Not that he ever looked at me like that. No way in a million years would I think of him like a stupid deer. But her eyes were somehow innocent. Jesus, she was a whore, we both knew that, but she seemed genuinely eager to help. So what could I do? That night, light years ago, a hooker, or as my friend would say, "a Tenth Street Gutter Slut" would change my life.
I cleared my throat. "Why," I wondered aloud, "are you so interested? It's not like we know each other. It's not like we'll ever meet again."
She suddenly spoke, "Well, hon, I just love a good story. Isn't that enough?"
Damn, I might just start liking this woman. "Okay, we'll play it like that. Evidently I'm a sucker for a game." Ordering up another beer, I went back to a time that I knew well. A time and place and feeling that I would never forget. The first time I discovered him. The instant Craig appeared.
"Jayson, damn-it, why you gotta make points on me?" Will shook his head in frustration. His typical response to my superiority on the board. He moved form the line and picked up his drink. Swallowing a huge gulp he finished off his Jack and Coke. "If you're gonna do that all the time, I'm gonna stop playing."
He never could stand to loose to me. I guess now I had to do some "Will maintenance". I picked up his darts from the floor and said, "Look, I'm sorry Will, but I have to beat you. Otherwise my reputation will start to tarnish. I got all these hawks lookin' to beat me all the time. I let one person win, pretty soon they all start to win!" leaving him to fume for a minute I shook my head and went to the jukebox. I plugged a few tunes and returned to Will and Mark. "You done being mad?"
"No, I'm not. But I want to finish this game so I can go on home to mama." We all laughed at his reference to Jessica, his live-in maid/ girlfriend. "She's already gonna be pissed. I'm two hours late." Taking his darts from me, he went to the board and tossed them, hitting a trip twenty, double five and a single twenty. "There," he said triumphantly, "let's see ya beat that, Mark."
My little group of friends was cool. Cool to the point of being frozen, rigid in their beliefs and convictions. I admired that. Will was the party guy, the one always looking to hook up with some nameless face with big tits and an ass for days. Your average guy, pretty sharp dresser and a nice smile. And if I thought long and hard about him, I suppose he was a looker. Attraction was always around the corner in my mind, and I wanted to avoid that again. I loved him as a friend and a person, and that's all I would ever be able to do. Will isn't gay, so accepting me as being that way, I allowed him to sleep with the enemy, so to speak. We'd been friends for as long as I can remember, and we always would be.
On the other hand, Mark Allan was the ultimate in masculine heat. Looking at him would bring a fag to his knees and melt the panties off the most poised and penitent nun. He was hot. He was a ten on the "looker scale" and he knew it. Armed with a smooth, bedroom voice, he could talk the breath right out of your lungs. Everyone has a friend like that. The one that women want to lay and men may want to also. Six feet of hard, six-packed muscle, beautiful brown hair and penetrating sky blue eyes. And with Mark, attraction was not around the corner. I was running headlong into it. Mark was suit and tie guy. And he cut a stunning form when he went all out. I think that may be the reason I forced a friendship on him. Just to get close.
Tipping my Bud Light, I let the beer slid down my throat and the music pour over my ears. The night was beginning to show signs of turning into a party. I loved when that happens. Start out a normal day after work, friends hanging out and sipping beer, then the next thing you know, power drinking and card games and laughter and the intricate dance between potential one-night lovers.
Mark called out, "Hey, dork, you gonna come back here and finish this game?"
I knew I didn't need to get drunk again, but I knew I would. I waved my hand acknowledging him and ordered another round for our table. "Hey, Doc, we need some more beer back there. Getting' a little dry."
Doc sauntered over to the beer cooler and pulled out a round, rang them up and slid me a tab. Looking over his specs he said, "Ran out of the prepaid tab, Jay. You wanna start another one?"
Doc could be so cute, I thought. Letting his glasses slide to the end of his nose, constantly returning them to their original position. Short, stout round little man. Kind of like Santa Claus. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead and write down another twenty." I pulled a bill from my wallet and passed it over the bar. "Say, Will is looking to go home early. Let's not let him. Send us back another round as soon as I get back there. And keep `em coming until all three of us run out of money." Satisfied with our little conspiracy, Doc went about the task.
Arriving back at the table, Mark looked at me and smiled. "I know exactly what you just did. And I don't think Jessica-poo will like it one bit." Mark nodded his head toward Will. A little quieter he added, "She told me last night that he hasn't plowed the fields in a while." Winking at me, "know what I mean?"
Of course I knew what he meant. He may be a hot mother-fucker, but he was still a chauvinist. "Yes, I know. So I guess you stepped up to help her take care of business?"
He laughed heartily. "You know it better than he does!" Again he noted Will with his head.
"God, you're so bad!" But I had to share his humor. Will and Jessica were a little to close for me, and I didn't trust her.
"Look, you guys don't need to be bring me more beer!" Evidently Doc had thought it best to bring two buckets of beer, tops popped, ready to be consumed. Doc winked at me as he passed back to the bar. "I gotta get home and-"
He didn't finish. Mark blurted out, "And plow the fields!" We both rolled with laughter.
I was laughing so hard, my gut hurt and tears were streaming from my eyes. "Yeah, you have to make sure she's ready for harvest come spring!"
Will, being caught off guard, acted like he knew what joke was shared, and snickered with us. And then it dawned on him, and the three of us were laughing outrageously. Doc took it to mean that he did well, so quickly he brought another bucket. "Jesus, Doc," Will said, "I don't know if that's enough!"
"Just drink it. I have standing orders. And by the way, Will, Jessica called. Said she's going to her mother's for the weekend." Doc smiled and then said, "And I will be bring beer back here until you pass out or run out of money. But knowing you guys, you'll run out of money first!"
The music was blasting, laughter was filling the bar and things were going great. And just as I was about to throw my last dart, the game-winner, everything came crashing down. My heart practically stopped beating. My lungs forced me to exhale, as if I was punched. My eyes could see nothing but one thing. He had walked in.
As the dart left my hand, my sight was blinded by the accumulation of human perfection. All others paled to his beauty. All were clover and dandelions to his flawless orchid. Thousands of other comparisons flew through my mind as I watched him enter the bar and take a seat to the right of Doc. His movements were graceful and fluid, his hair billowed behind in his wake like a ribbon of chocolate. His face appeared smooth and blemish-free. In my mind I knew I sounded like an idiot. I was describing him like a product commercial. But I could not help it.
Have you ever been confronted with something so wonderful and perfect that you were terrified? As if finally, after years of searching and finding naught, you stumbled into the exact replica of your dreams and did know what to do? The one thing, the treasure, you had sought relentlessly after, only to be confronted and want to turn and run away? Or simply, the one person you would live for? This was mine. And I knew, at that exact moment, that I had to know him. I absolutely had to get to know him. If I only did one more thing in my life before I expired, knowing him would be the culmination. And though I remember every single thing about him, about him on that night, to this very day I do not know where my final dart landed.
In a start I looked around me. Harrison's, Doc's bar, was still a little crowded, though my new hooker-friend and me we virtually alone. The time was about 8:45 p.m. I guess I was prattling a little too much. I'd been here an hour. She looked back at me and smiled. "I suppose I've bored you to death?"
"Nonsense sweetie, I've been enjoying myself." She flicked her lighter and lit my cigarette in one even motion. "So you can't remember where your dart flew, huh? Well, I bet I have a good feeling about that."
"What do you mean?"
"Let's just say that I've seen that look in your eyes only once in my life. And if I only know one thing, I know that you are truly in love with this person. And he ought to feel damn lucky to have such devotion."
Her smiled dripped with past troubles and strife. I couldn't help myself. I placed a hand over hers and squeezed slightly. She stirred a mite and I said, "Look, about earlier, I said a lot of things that were mean. I'm sorry."
"Oh, honey, I knew you were a sweetie when I walked in. Let me get you a drink. Doc, sugar, please bring this guy a drink on me."
"Shouldn't this be the other way around? Shouldn't I be the one buying the drinks?" Doc just smiled at me and mixed up a Sloe Screw for her and a Stolies and 7-up for me.
"I wouldn't dream of it. You're spinning me a good story, and I'd like to hear some more of it. So, if you'd like, I would love to hear a little bit more. Does this person have a name?"
When she asked me that all the force and power of seeing that guy hit fully. And again I felt everything about him. Crystal clear visions of his clothes and smile and face danced in front of me. And in my mind, like a CD recording, the song that was playing when he walked in, Clay Walker's Hypnotize the Moon, echoed hauntingly.
You better run for cover/ You better hide your heart/ `Cause once you start to love him/ You know you'll never stop/ He shines like a diamond/ When He walks into a room/ He could charm the stars/ Hypnotize the moon.
Clearing my throat and dabbing a tear from the corner of my eye, I smiled softly and said, "Yeah, his name is Craig."
-This story is copyright 2001 by Delancey Thaeyer Kellek. Please send any e-mails on whether I should continue or not. This is my first attempt at submitting a story, so I would appreciate feedback at Dkellek932@aol.com. Thanks again.