My time with James had opened up a part of me I had repressed for years. There will always be a special place in my heart for him, as he introduced me to my real self. Even though I now understood who I was inside, I was still hesitant to openly admit my obsession. I continued to find local places to explore and met other men, each encounter strengthened my resolve to one day commitment to my new lifestyle, that is until I met Roger.
I had met Roger in a bar, it wasn't even a gay bar, just a local watering hole I had dropped into for a quick drink before heading home. There was some sporting event on the big screen and the place was sort of full, not packed, but busy. Roger was sitting at the bar and the only seat open was the one next to him. I strolled up, sat down and when the bartender came over I ordered my favorite cocktail, a White Russian with a double shot of Vodka. No sooner had the bartender left to fetch my nightcap, I heard the man next tom me mutter that I had an interesting choice of drinks. I turned and smiled at him and stated I liked my drinks strong yet smooth and creamy.
This elicited an odd look from my neighbor, then his smile broadened. He had a nice smile and he was easy to look at as well. About 6', muscular but too much, with sandy brown hair, I found myself attracted to him in a way I hadn't expected. Conversation was a little difficult with the level of background noise, but we managed. Eventually he asked was I a regular and I told him I stopped by from time to time as it was close to home. He told me he had just gotten into town for work and would be here for several months working on a new project. He asked about good restaurants and places to unwind that weren't some sort of tourist trap or one of the local yuppie hangouts.
We talked for another hour about places and people and just about everything, until I suddenly felt a hand on my knee. The touch had caught me off guard and I hesitated in my description of a particularly good restaurant I frequented. The hesitation was just a moment, but when I continued to speak and didn't draw away from his touch, his smile broadened again. He asked if I might like to join him for dinner one night. Now it was my time to smile, I had completely forgotten about my quick drink and going home. I had somehow gotten lost in my conversation with this very nice man.
I suddenly realize just what kind of affect he was having on me and I felt my blood pressure rising and my pulse quickening. His hand didn't remain on my knee, as we talked, he slowly moved it up to my thigh and he would gently squeeze my thigh to emphasize some point he was making. I found the feeling almost as intoxicating as the double White Russian, but in a far more potent way. I felt my face beginning to flush and the heat rising within me. He leaned in my direction and whispered that he was enjoying my company and would very much like to go someplace quieter. Would that be something I'd be interested in? As he said it, he again gently squeezed my thigh. The rush was intense, I didn't so much as answer, as I felt myself blush and nod, though I did manage to add I'd like that very much.
He called the bartender and paid for our drinks, then we headed out to the parking lot. Once outside, away from all the banter of the bar, he turned to me ask if I'd like to ride with him or follow in my own car. I had inadvertently stumbled on something that promised to be wonderful and exciting. I wasn't about to let the heat cool and promptly acknowledged that I would love to ride with him. At this point, I still had some doubts about where this would lead, but my using the term "love" when referring to riding with him may have set the tone for what happened later that night.
He'd actually chosen to check out one of the restaurants I had suggested. It was a little farther away than some of the others, but it gave us time to continue talking and that was fine with me. When we arrived he hopped out and before I could get my door open I found it being opened for me. It was a little embarrassing at first but my smile seemed smooth any awkwardness I felt. We entered the restaurant and waited to be seated. The waitress who seated us asked if we'd like a table or a booth, before I had time to think about it, Roger told her we'd like a booth. She quickly responded saying the only one she had available was a small round booth in the back. Roger smiled at her and said perfect, then she led the way to our table.
This was a good restaurant and had a good many patrons, so the noise level here was much the same as the bar without the sports commentary. In order to continue our conversation we had to move closer together in order to be heard. I was sitting to Roger's left. The waitress arrived to take our drink order. The waitress turned to me and asked what I'd like. Roger stepped in and announced I'd like a White Russian with a shot of vodka. He ordered a whisky on the rocks and the waitress turned to fetch our drinks. His answering for me had taken me by surprise, so much so that I hadn't noticed when he'd ordered, he once again slipped his hand to my thigh and was gently massaging it as we talked.