The Harrington Hotel

It happened again last night.

I was sitting at the bar minding my own business at the Harrington Hotel, the one near the airport, enjoying an after work glass of draft beer when a middle-aged man sat next me.

There were plenty of open bar stools so he'd made a conscious decision to sit directly beside me. I didn't mind. One of the reasons I come to the Harrington is to meet interesting businessmen from all across the country.

The man waited maybe three-seconds before he turned to me and asked, "What's it take to get a drink in this place?"

I smiled at him, waved my hand at the bartender getting his attention and said, "Paul, this gentleman would like a drink."

The man ordered a gin gimlet and told Paul, "Get my little friend here whatever he wants, too."

"Oh, that's very nice of you, sir, thank you," I said with a smile then told Paul: "I'll have what he's having."

The man appeared pleased I ordered the same drink.

"My name is Roland - call me 'Rollie'," he said.

"I'm John," I replied shaking his hand.

When Paul returned with our drinks I smiled at the man and thanked him again. We clinked our glasses together.

"You live around here?" he asked me.

Odd. Most men ask if I'm in town on business.

"Yes, I live about a mile from here...I work at the mall and like to come here after my shift," I said.

"Strange place for a little cutie like you to hang out," he said with a wink and a smirking grin.

Wow...the men here lately have been zeroing in on me right away. Are the words "AVAILABLE FOR GAY SEX" stamped on my back?

"Where are you from, Rollie?" I asked the slightly portly man.

"You can skip the nicety's with me, boy," he said seriously.

He then leaned in closer and added: "What's it gonna take to get your sweet little ass back to my room so you can give me a bj or two?"

A cold shiver raced up my spine.

"What are you talking about?" I asked indignantly.

"Don't play all cutesy with me, boy. I was sitting in that booth over there last night. I watched you get that businessman all hot and horny and leave with him...did you go to his room and suck his cock or did you take it in the ass?" Rollie said with spittle leaking from the corners of his mouth.

Oh my hell, he'd seen me with Martin last night! Martin had been a perfect gentleman unlike this creep.

"I saw you playing with his cock underneath the bar. He was sporting quite a woody when you two left here," said the man with a twisted grin on his face.

To set the record straight, so to speak, I didn't 'play' with Martin's cock while sitting at the bar. I simply caressed his thighs and was able to coax a nice erection from him.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Rollies hand sliding along the bar towards me. He lifted his fingers high enough for me to see a hundred-dollar bill folded in half.

I am NOT a hooker or hustler. I genuinely enjoy pleasing men. I love the intimacy with them, even if only for an hour or so.

But every now and then an asshole like Rollie swoops in and tries to cheapen the experience for me. I have come to understand men like him though.

They come from a totally different era. A time when even the slightest hint a man was gay meant certain humiliation, and often times physical beatings. He is so far into the closet he doesn't even know where the doorknob is to get out.

I get a different kind of enjoyment with men like Rollie.

I endure their nasty insults and crude behavior to make a point: that no matter what he says, and how he acts with me, once I give him the best orgasm he'll ever have, he'll slink back to his dismal life, with probably an equally dismal wife, who will never give him an experience like the one I gave him.

For the rest of his life he will suffer guilt and shame when he remembers the night he had sex with a queer-boy, and it was the best sex he ever had.

I subtly move my hand to his to take the money but he swiftly pulls his hand away.

"You think I'm stupid, boy? Come to my room and when I'm done with you this bill will be next to the television," he said.

Doubtful, I thought.

I wanted to say 'Do you think I'm stupid, old man...assholes like you dangle bills before me all the time but as soon as they get their rocks-off the money magically disappears'.

Rollie drained the remainder of his drink, turned to me and whispered, "Room 1401, wait here ten-minutes then come to the room...the door will be open - come inside, close the door then take off your clothes - leave your undies on - I'm gonna pretend you're a girl so I don't want to see your package swinging between your legs...don't talk - don't make any sounds...I'll be in bed and you just make your way between my legs and get to work with that pretty mouth of yours...got it, boy?"

I wanted to laugh at the lengths this man was going to to deny to himself that he was about to have sex with a guy. So typical for these extreme closet queens.

"Yes, sir," I replied with a small grin on my 'pretty' mouth.

He left a twenty on the bar to pay for the drinks and I knew there wouldn't be much of a tip left over for Paul.

I waited ten-minutes then walked to his room. I took the elevator to the fourth floor. Luckily, 1401 was the first room off the elevator. The door was ajar and I went inside.

The only light was in the bathroom. In the semi-darkness I could see Roly-Poly laying on the bed, the bedspread and top sheet down near the foot of the bed.

As I stripped, I squinted at his outline on the bed and could see he was playing with himself.

As I silently walked toward the bed, curiosity got the better of me: I glanced at the television and surprise-surprise, the hundred-dollar bill was next to it - not that I had any intention of taking it.

***

Once I was alone in the elevator, I reached down and adjusted my boner so it wouldn't be so obvious in my slacks.

Roly-Poly was a pig, but all his grunts and groans and exclamations of pleasure excited me so much my prick was throbbing and my balls ached for release.

I admit that when I'm kneeling between a man's legs the sights, sounds and smells get me so excited I've been known to shoot my load without even being touched.

I was grateful I didn't cum tonight. I couldn't imagine the taunts and insults old Roly-Poly would have hurled at me if I'd climaxed while sucking him.

In the lobby I briefly thought about going home, but it was still early. On Sunday's, the clothing store closes at six instead of nine so I have three extra hours to mingle with the businessmen.

Besides, Sunday nights the lounge gets busy with the men coming into town for Monday morning meetings.

Tonight was no different. The bar had become considerably more crowded in the hour I was gone. I chose a bar stool that had empty seats on both sides of it.

Paul was suddenly standing before me.

"Hey John, a glass of beer or a Schnapps?" he asked with a bemused smile on his face.

If I hadn't known him so well I would have blushed at his coy reference to Schnapps - the drink I always have when I want to wash unpleasant tastes from my mouth.

I smiled and asked him, "Can you make change for a hundred?"

"Certainly," he replied; the cat-like grin never leaving his handsome face.

"Okay then, yes, I'll have a Peppermint Schnapps," I said with a chuckle.

As was my habit, I took a large drink of the sweet liqueur, swished it around my mouth and tongue until all I could taste was peppermint, then finally swallowed.

I settled into listening to the conversations taking place on all sides of me while slowly sipping the schnapps.

One thing I've come to respect about older businessmen when I listen to them talk to one another is they don't brag, bullshit or embellish their careers and accomplishments.

They've been thru their battles, won some - lost some - and have accepted their strengths as well as their limitations.

The successful ones speak with confidence, but with an understanding it was hard work that made them who they are...not some false sense that they are superior to anyone else.

It seemed to me, the ones who talked the loudest about their successes were probably the least successful, and my point was being made by a guy three bar stools to the left of me.

Another thing I love about The Harrington is the mirror on the back bar. The liquor bottles are on shelves below the back counter so when I look back and forth into the mirror I can see the faces of everyone sitting at the bar.

I glanced into the mirror to see a young guy's hands flailing about as his voice grew louder and louder. He was trying to convince the older man next to him of something or other.

The older man had a bemused smile on his handsome face. I could tell he was more amused than upset by the young man's antics. He had a thick head of gray hair, perfectly coiffed. His face was tan and from what I could see of his upper body, he appeared he put an effort into taking care of his body.

"Terry, I'm telling you," said the young man quite loudly, "you'd never make it in today's climate if you were just starting out...hell, when you began businesses were begging to buy from you...today, the competition is so tough it's every-man-for-himself out there!"

The distinguished older man smiled at his loudmouth companion, and said, "Denny, businesses were begging to buy from me because I was honest with them. I treated them fairly and never took advantage of them."

"You just can't do that anymore, Terry - they'll eat you alive!" the young man almost shouted.

'Terry' smiled at 'Denny' and said, "If that is true, Denny, why are my numbers so much better than yours every month? Why do I have more repeat customers than ANY of the salesmen in our division?"

His bitch-slap to the loudmouth brought a grin to my face. What impressed me most was his dead-calm demeanor and the smile that remained on his face throughout his put-down of his young colleague.

Without thinking, I continued staring at the handsome man in the mirror when suddenly it occurred to me he was staring back. Instead of averting my eyes as I normally would, I decided to take the mature route.

I nodded once and mouthed the words "Nice job."

The loudmouth abruptly stood, pushing his stool backwards making a noisy screeching sound then said to the older man: "You live in the past, Terry, you're a goddamn dinosaur!"

The loudmouth walked away rather unsteadily.

Paul appeared before me and asked, "Another schnapps, John?"

"Paul, would you ask the gentleman down there in the navy blue suit if I can buy him a drink?" I said.

Paul looked surprised but simply said, "Of course!"

I watched Paul talking to the man then return to me.

"He said he'd love to have another drink, but only if you join him," said Paul with a wink.

"Oh, uh, sure...I'll have what he's having," I said to Paul.

My heart began pounding. I couldn't believe what I had just done. This was a totally new game to me. I'm supposed to be the 'hunted' - not the 'hunter'.

I took a deep breath, stood and silently pushed my bar stool backwards. I was nervous. I could actually feel my hands trembling slightly.

As I approached the distinguished looking older man, he was sitting sideways, staring at me. His eyes slowly moving up and down my body. An amused grin played across his lips.

"Very nice suit, young man," he said when I stood next to him.

"Not nearly as nice as yours," I replied when I saw he was wearing a $1,500 Zegna Navy Tuttoritorto Italian suit.

"Oh, this old thing? I got it on sale," he said smiling. "So you're interested in fashion?"

"I work in a men's clothing store at the mall, sir," I answered.

As he offered me his hand to shake, he exclaimed, "I LOVE that mall. I go there every time I'm in town! Hi, I'm Terry."

"Nice to meet you, Terry, I'm John," I said.

His handshake was firm but not bone-crushing.

"It's nice of you to buy an old dinosaur a drink, John," he said referring to what the loudmouth had called him.

I replied, "Well, I just saw 'Jurassic Park' for about the tenth time and I always find myself cheering for the dinosaurs."

My goodness, what a gorgeous smile...and such perfect teeth! My heart began pounding again.

Paul delivered the drinks. I saw orange juice in champagne flutes.

Okay, he drinks Mimosa's, I said to myself.

"John, thank you for the drink...it's very rare a young man as cute as you shows any interest in an old guy like me - much less buy me a drink," he said.

"Oh, uh, you're welcome," was all I could say.

"I have a confession to make, John...I want you to know I am gay," he said.

There were several seconds of stunned silence on my part before I could manage a reply.

"Oh, uh, well, that doesn't matter to me," I said totally blown-away a man I just met had the courage to tell me such an intimate detail.

A slight frown crossed his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"I was hoping you were going to tell me you're gay, too," he said softly.

In mere seconds, four-years of memories flashed thru my mind. I couldn't recall a single instant I said to someone, 'I am gay'.

A redness spread across my face as we both sipped at our drinks.

I finally said, my voice barely audible, "Terry, the, uh, truth is, well...I am gay, too."

He smiled, raised his glass for a toast, and said, "Here's to an aging faggot and a very pretty queer-boy!"

I blushed again but clinked his glass and took a healthy swallow of the orange juice and champagne.

Now that the subject had been broached, I felt more at ease talking about it.

"May I ask you a question," I said to him.

"You may ask me anything you want, young man," he replied.

"I don't want this to sound rude or anything but...well, how have you done it? How are you able to be so open about it - especially in your line of work...I mean no disrespect, but a man your age - the generation you grew up in...I've heard horror stories about what happened to gay men back then...how did you get thru it all?"

"To be completely honest with you, John, I've only been 'out' for the last five-years...before that, I did everything I could to hide my dirty little secret from everyone I knew - especially my wife and children," he said.

He continued: "You are absolutely right - there was no way I could ever let anyone know the truth...I did everything a straight guy was supposed to do...married my high school sweetheart - settled down and raised a family...I did my best to ignore my feelings for men and it worked up until ten-years ago...but one day I met a boy nearly as cute as you and I fell hard for him...I couldn't suppress the lust and love I felt for the boy...that was when I began to actively seek out young men for, uh, relationships."

"But in your line of work, I mean, does your company know? Your co-workers?" I asked.

"John, my company cares about profits...they'd hire a little green man from Timbuktu if he made them money," he said. "As for my co-workers, I don't give a damn what they think of me...they don't pay my bills - I do."

"Terry, that guy from earlier, you work with him. Does he know?" I asked him.

"I'm not sure...my boss wanted me to bring him with me on this trip to try to teach him some things about selling...the kid won't listen to me...seems to me twenty-somethings are in their own little world and do not want advice from old guys," he said then smiled and added, "No offense to you."

"I know exactly what you mean...I don't much care for guys my own age either," I softly said.

He turned thoughtful. "Yes, I can understand that...you're much older than your years, aren't you?"

A lump formed in my throat. I blinked rapidly to prevent tears from welling in my eyes.

"Yeah...I guess I am...I've always preferred the company of mature men..." I said, my voice trailing off.

He suddenly leaned over, placed his hand on my thigh and said, "You don't have many friends, do you?"

I waited to answer his question. It was another thing about me I found difficult to admit to myself.

"No...no I don't have many friends," I softly said. "I'm kind of an introvert...I don't make friends easily."

His hand began moving up and down my thigh...gently squeezing...I was still ramped-up from my encounter with Roly-Poly and it didn't take very long for me to spring a boner.

"John," said Terry, "I'd like to be your friend."

It suddenly occurred to me he was making my moves...hand-on-thigh...gentle massage...all intended to encourage arousal...and it worked - only this time I was the one on the receiving end with a throbbing erection.

"Uh, w-would you like another drink, Terry?" I asked him trying to control the emotions I was feeling.

"I have a bottle of very fine Cognac in my room, if you would do me the honor of joining me for a glass or two," he said.

Suddenly, the palm of his hand subtly, yet firmly brushed the bulge in my slacks.

Oh my goodness. I raised my hand and motioned to Paul to bring me the check.

Paul was about to hand it to me when Terry said to him, "Charge that to my room, okay? And give yourself a healthy tip."

"Yes, sir," said Paul smiling broadly.

"Terry, I wanted to treat you - to thank you for the conversation," I lightly protested.

His fingers took hold of my hard prick and squeezed.

"The night is young, John...perhaps you can show your appreciation in a different manner," he said with a slight smile.

WOW...it was the most blatant proposal I'd ever received at The Harrington Hotel from a man I wanted to truly be with.

"What's your room number? I'll give you five-minutes then meet you there," I said.

"Nonsense...there must be a half-dozen faggots in here and I want them to see me leaving with the cutest boy in the room," he said.

My heart fluttered. I was speechless.

When he stood, I stood. He placed a hand around my shoulder and we walked side-by-side out of the lounge.

In the big lobby, I instinctively knew why he hesitated.

"What's your room number? " I asked him.

"1525...I always get turned around in this hotel," he said.

"The elevator is down the hallway on the right," I said.

"Oh, very good," he said then suddenly stopped, looked at me quizzically then gave me a knowing smile. "Ohhh, I understand..."

***

My lips were dry; my heart pounded in my chest and my head was spinning out of control as we stood before his door. I'd never felt this nervous with any of my previous companions at The Harrington Hotel.

Terry was different...and special. I rarely experienced this much emotion in what normally is a casual tryst. I genuinely liked this man so much I had developed a schoolgirl crush on him.

When the elevator doors had closed, and we found ourselves alone, Terry shocked me by taking me in his arms and kissing me full on the lips. I hugged him tight and returned his kiss with so much passion my head swooned.

I reached down to rub his crotch. I was able run my fingers over his length before he pushed my hand aside and stroked the outline of my boner inside my slacks instead.

"Johnny," he'd said. I opened my eyes to see a sly smile on his handsome face. "It's not healthy for a boy your age to store up too much sperm and semen...I'll have to take care of that for you as soon as possible."

I groaned into his mouth. When the elevator doors opened I was dizzy and gasping for air, he had to lead me in the right direction to the room.

Once inside, he again took me in his strong arms and kissed me. I groaned into his open mouth. He led me to the loveseat while our lips were melded together.

He broke the kiss long enough to slide the suit coat off my arms and laid it on the loveseat. He made quick work of my tie then unbuttoned my shirt.

Everything was happening so fast I was out of breath. My shirt was open; the palms of his hands glided over my smooth, hairless chest. He massaged my breasts and pinched my nipples until they were little points of hardened flesh.