A gay story: Ex-Girlfriend’s Bed Pt. 02
I was awake for a while after the wonderful pounding I had just received. The next day was Christmas. I made sure to open the door to the cats’ room to give them a bit of freedom. Looking at the clock, I realized it had already been Christmas for 2 hours, and I’d already unwrapped the most amazing gift. Later, after I got up around noon, my plans included a dinner with a couple of friends who had been nice enough to invite me over considering my family lived so far away. But my mind went to the man who’d just used me. I thought about our interaction, both on the app and in person. I don’t think we ever exchanged names. I did have his number…
“He won’t answer if I text. Will he?” I asked Fluffers.
Of course, he had no answer. He merely looked at me as if to say, “Why are you talking to me? I’m licking myself. Go away, human.”
I ended up texting. “Hey. It’s Amos. Hope you got back safe.” As expected, the text went unanswered. I drank a good third of the bottle of whisky watching White Christmas before I drifted off to sleep somewhere after them getting to a warm, un-snowy Vermont. Also, without making it back to the bed.
I woke a few hours later when Mittens jumped on my belly. I was laying on the couch, no blanket and just a sofa pillow rolled up to be acceptable. The whisky bottle was still on the coffee table, the television was showing that “DVD” screensaver where the “DVD” bounces around like a pong game, and my phone still showed no response from the guy that had just royally drilled my ass. My head was painfully sore, my ass pleasantly so. I finished the last bit of whisky still in my glass, barely a swallow, then headed to the bed.
After passing out again, this time on the bed, I woke just a little before noon. My head was still a bit foggy but much better. I got up and took a shower, more to clear my head than to clean myself. As the hot water poured over me I couldn’t help but think about last night’s exploits. I was still hoping my lover would message back. But then again, he’s a working man, married, and away from his family on Christmas. I thought he might want something more. Well, I really hoped he did. I exited the shower and toweled off. And I was right: no message. It was time to get ready for Christmas dinner with friends.
Thankfully, the day was overcast, so my eyes didn’t get bothered much. My buddy lived about an hour away, practically in the middle of nowhere: his nearest neighbor was almost a mile away. Still, I sent out a few feelers on the app, hoping I could get another round of fucking when I got back to my ex’s place. The drive was uneventful, though I nearly missed the turn-off to his place. I pulled into the driveway and noticed I was definitely not the first one to arrive.
Brent came out to welcome me and directed me where to park.
“Merry Christmas, buddy,” he said.
“Happy Birthday, Jesus,” I replied. We both chuckled.
“I got some beers in the fridge, freshly bottled,” he offered. “This year’s batch is much more palatable than last. Thought you might want to try my attempt at a porter…”
The conversation continued, I was welcomed inside by Brent’s wife, Melinda, and the other guests. We had a raucous dinner followed by games and singing carols. As the cloudy sky began to turn to dark, we all said our good-byes and left one by one. There were still a few people left when I made my way to the car. I opened the door, got in, and started the engine.
That’s when I heard the ping. Somehow, the timing was impeccable. No one responded to my inquiries earlier, not until just now, almost 5 hours later. I fished my phone out of my pocket, and promply realized I’d left my phone in the car. “Well, maybe that’s why you didn’t hear anything, you big doofus,” I thought to myself.
There were seven messages. One was a generic, “What’s up, man?” Another two were from another guy asking when and where, then, after getting no response, “Never mind.” The other four were from a guy that had pictures on his profile. A lot of pictures.
I’m not sure why or how, but I really wanted this guy.
“Hey, I live nearby. I’m interested.”
“Still there? I’d enjoy unwrapping you…”
“I’m free around 7 this eve.”
“Headed to Vic’s on Main. Let me know if you want to join for a cocktail.”
I was almost an hour away. Could I make it in time? Not if I didn’t reach back out to him.
“Just leaving a Christmas gathering. I can be there in an hour or so?”
I made sure to double check my rearview as I pulled out of Brent’s driveway. Traffic was expectably light and I was blessed with nothing but green traffic signals on my way. I blasted some Harry Connick Jr Christmas music to keep myself in the mood. I was surprised at how quickly I made the trip. It was 45 minutes later that I pulled into the parking lot. I checked to see if my “date” had responded.
“I’ll be the one wearing an ugly Xmas sweater,” was his reply accompanied by a photo. Good. He was waiting. I sent one more to let him know I was parked and on my way in.
Vic’s on Main was the bar I go to when I’m not at work. It was only a few blocks away from the bar I poured at, so it was very convenient. The outer wall facing the parking lot was floor to ceiling windows. I tried to catch a glimpse of my prospective lover, but the lighting was too dim. I walked to the door knowing there wasn’t a large crowd. The fact that I was not completely out of the closet added a bit of excitement to this meeting. It was the first time I’d met a guy in public. Normally, I’d drive to his place or he’d come to mine. This time, I was going into a bar I frequent to meet with a guy with the intention of getting fucked. So, I felt extra nervous.
When I walked in, I didn’t see anyone at the bar wearing the sweater. Maybe he left, maybe he’s in the restroom, who knows. All I knew was I was here and I needed a drink. Garret was behind the bar. We exchanged greetings, he poured me a free shot of some peppermint liquor, and I ordered an old-fashioned.
“Here alone on Christmas?” Garret asked.
“I’m here to meet someone, actually,” I replied. “I thought so, at least. He said he was already here.”
“I haven’t seen any of your regular crew come in.”
“Told me he was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater?” I prompted.
Garret chuckled and looked at me funny. “He said he’d be right back. He went to his car for something. His drink is down that end of the bar.”
I waited another minute or two before I felt the cold wind blow in the open doorway. I turned to see a tall, dark-haired guy wearing glasses and the sweater. He brushed his hair back and walked to his drink and sat down.
“So, you haven’t met yet,” Garret stated. “Meeting him here for…?” Thankfully he didn’t finish the question.
“Please don’t.” I took a long sip. “I’m meeting him for…” I didn’t know what to say really.
“Interesting,” he said. “Not surprised though. Cameron is a good guy.”
And then he finally walked away to leave me to my inner turmoil. The guy, Cameron I guess, was beautiful. His dark eyes and the hair on his head stood out against his shaved, light complexion. His nose had obviously never been broken, unlike mine, and he seemed confident in himself. He was neither skinny, nor overweight. I watched as he picked up his phone to see the message I’d sent. “I’d better get over there,” I thought as I stood and made my way to the other end of the bar.