I was sitting at the bar of the 5101 Club, talking to my buddy Ernie, the bartender.
It was around 9:00 PM, early for a gay bar, and the place was almost empty. Just a few regulars. It wouldn't really get going for another two hours.
The door opened and a man walked in, stopped just inside the door, and looked around. He was in his late 30s, with thick black hair, a moderately handsome face, and an athletic body, wearing slacks, a sports coat, and a tie.
I leaned forward, like I was saying something confidential to Ernie, but I was really checking the guy out in the mirror behind the bar. He was still standing there, looking at the empty tables and scattered patrons.
He was looking at me, too. Once, we locked eyes in the mirror. We stayed frozen . . . staring . . . for several seconds, then he quickly turned away. For the next few minutes, he acted intensely interested in the flatscreen on the wall opposite the bar. It was showing highlights of a Brazilian soccer match from four months ago.
Finally, he came to a decision. He sat down at the bar, three seats away from me, and ordered a double Jack Daniels on the rocks.
He sat there, nursing his drink and sneaking frequent glances at me in the mirror. He had to be new at this. Trying to work up his nerve.
This guy was unusually skittish, even for a first-timer. I figured he'd bolt if I approached him, so I stayed on my bar stool, talking softly to Ernie, and occasionally turning my head to smile at the guy's reflection.
He downed the rest of his drink and set the glass down, then sat still, staring at the empty glass. He adjusted his body, preparing to stand up. It looked like he was going to leave. I locked eyes with him in the mirror. He was so fucking sexy and I wanted him in bed. Bad.
He stopped and looked back at me, then relaxed back on the stool and pushed the glass to the far edge of the bar.
At first, Ernie didn't notice the guy's signal. Then I told him to ignore it.
After a minute, the guy picked up his glass, walked over to Ernie, and set the glass down on the bar. "Another round, please." He was smiling, a little too broadly.
"Why don't you sit here?" I said. "You look lonely over there."
"Yeah. Sure. Thanks." He sat on the bar stool beside mine. Ernie set a glass in front of him. It was a triple, at least. The guy put a $20 and a $10 on the bar and said "Keep the change."
My glass was empty. "Refill?" Ernie asked. I nodded.
"I'll get it," the guy said. Ernie made me a vodka and tonic.
"Thanks, uh . . . " I paused, looking at him with a smile that was slightly more than friendly.
"Oh. Yeah. It's Brady." He held out his hand automatically.
I shook his hand almost equally automatically. "Charlie." I turned toward the bar. "And this is Ernie."
"Pleased to meet you." Ernie gave Brady a quick wave. "Gotta check the tables." He hustled off. It was getting busy and the 5101 waiters wouldn't be coming in for another half hour.
Brady and I took long sips of our drinks. "This your first time?" I asked.
He was silent for a few seconds. "In this club? Yeah. I've been in town before."
"On business?"
"Yeah. I sell building supplies in Denver. I'm here for a convention."
I asked Brady a few leading questions and got him talking about the building supply business. He was pleased that I was so knowledgeable. I hardly know a hammer from a chisel, but I've learned some tricks to make it seem like I understand what someone is talking about.
We finished our drinks and Brady signaled Ernie for another round.
Brady and I talked about sports and other neutral subjects. By the time he'd finished his third drink, he was way more relaxed, eyeing me openly.
My hand "accidentally" brushed Brady's thigh as I turned my bar stool to face him. I pressed my knee lightly against his as I bent forward. His body stiffened but he didn't move his knee. "This is your first time. Isn't it?" I kept my voice low.
Brady glanced around the room, then looked back at me. "What do you mean?"
"You know." I pressed my knee a little harder against his. "This is a gay bar. You don't just see the place and drop in. It's on a side street and you have to look for it."
Brady picked up his glass and twisted it in his hand, staring at the half-melted ice cubes without speaking.
"You're married," I said softly. "You have kids. A successful business."
"Yeah." He finally looked up at me. "All of that."
"You've got it made." Brady nodded slowly. "But there's something else. Fantasies about men. Getting stronger and stronger." Brady nodded again.
"Now, you're alone in a strange town. Nobody back home will ever find out. This is your chance."
I put my hand on Brady's thigh and left it there. He looked down at it, but didn't try to remove it. "Want to go somewhere?"
"Yeah. My hotel all right?"
"Great." Way better than my little efficiency apartment. "Ready?" I stood up.
Brady pulled his phone out and sent a brief text. "A little last-minute business." He stood up. "Let's go."
* * *
Brady's suite was on the top floor of the Hyatt. We stopped in the little anteroom. There were closed polished wood doors in two of its inside walls. The third wall opened into a big luxurious living room.
I wrapped my arms around Brady, pulled our bodies together, and kissed him. He stood there, stiff in my embrace, and kissed back unenthusiastically. Well, breaking in virgins is delicate and frustrating.
Brady pulled away and walked to the wood door in the far wall. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned to face me. "You were right. Back in the bar. I am married. With kids from my first wife."
He opened the door. "But I'm not here alone."
The woman was over a decade younger than Brady, tall, solidly-constructed, and athletic, with a pair of double-D breasts that would make most women look unbalanced, but matched her large frame perfectly. She had long straight black hair and a 1950s movie star face, with flashing dark eyes and a wide smile.
