I left the day after graduation and drove to New Orleans and my summer job. I had scored a room with an older couple and settled into life in one of my favorite cities.
Being on my own for the first time, I tested a lot of boundaries, expanded a few, and discovered a lot about myself. I had made up my mind to explore life before I would settle into life as a college freshman. On my days off I would walk the French Quarter, savoring its vibe, discovering its offerings. It was on such an outing that I met Mel, an older man, maybe forty-five'ish, and like me, a lover of museums. We ran into each other 2 days in a row and on the second day, he asked if I'd like to join him for a drink; I accepted and walked with him to a 'local's' bar in the quarters.
One drink led to many and the four hours of the summer afternoon went quickly. He signaled for another round and slid his stool a bit closer to me, lowering his voice for privacy.
"We probably should get something to eat and soak up this alcohol after this drink," Mel said, placing his hand on my leg to steady himself.
I felt his hand on my leg and for whatever reason, didn't mind it being there. Turning a bit on my stool, to face him as he was also turned towards me, I said in response, "You're right, I'm feeling no pain right now but I will, if I don't get some food in me."
"Want to grab a couple of Po-Boy sandwiches and eat them at my place? I only live a few blocks from here," Mel asked, his hand still on my leg.
"Sounds like a plan," I cheerfully replied, noting his soft squeeze to my knee as we downed our drinks and stood to leave.
The sandwiches were just what the doctor ordered, and then the doctor produced some cannabis for dessert. It was deliciously good weed and had me into the ozone in a heartbeat. Falling back into the cushions of the couch where we were sitting, I closed my eyes and let the stone roll over me.
Mel and I continued to have a typical stoner conversation when, out of the blue, his hand returned to my leg, only this time, mid-thigh and slowly rubbing up and down. I opened my eyes and stared into his smiling face.
"Have you been touched like this, before, by a man? Mel asked.
"Not by a man, but when I was younger, a friend and I would jerk each other off sometimes. After a while, he started sucking me also sometimes," I replied, sensing where this was going and comfortable with it, if it got there.
"Been with girls yet?" he asked.