I was more than a bit nervous. I always am when meeting new people, especially couples, because there is so much more potential for things to go wrong, but they'd seemed nice enough on line and on the phone. So I drove, checking the map at stop signs, and eventually looking for a parking spot, and trying not to let the nerves get to me.
As he'd warned me, parking was at a premium near their house. Of course, being this close to the beach, that was pretty much a given, but that's one of many reasons I try to live further inland. But the houses and apartments looked mostly clean and well maintained, and few of the cars were beaters, so at least some of my apprehension about what might happen there faded. The one time I'd had problems with vandals while at a party in L.A. had left me very nervous, but I had to admit that this didn't look like a dangerous neighborhood.
"Calm down" I told myself as I locked the car door. "This is going to be fun, and nothing to worry about!"
When I reached their door, I had to wipe my palms on my slacks before I knocked, but I knocked, and the door was opened almost immediately. I recognized him by his profile picture, and the house, though small (and still bigger than my tiny apartment) was clean and airy.
"Come on in" he said, and introduced himself. I shook his hand, and followed him to the living room, which was comfortable, with large sliding glass doors leading to their yard on one side, and a small, efficient kitchen on the other. "What's in the bag?"
When we'd set this up, he'd asked me to bring some porn tapes - bisexual ones if possible - and I'd grabbed three from my collection, hoping they wouldn't be too awful. I've noticed that bi porn tends to be the worst genre, with the 'actors' being generally pretty awful, with (usually) one gay guy, one nervous guy, and one uninterested woman faking a series of contortions and positions, but every few years I try to find some that's better. I handed him the bag, and he shuffled through the tapes, and put one in the VCR, then moved toward the kitchen.
"Care for a glass of wine?" he asked, opening a bottle of red.
"It couldn't hurt."