Wednesday, 30 January 2013

Things that make you go hmmmm (part 2)



Dec 2012  After dinner, it’s time to head out for the clubs and bars.  As a former resident of Sin City, I am nominated guide and begin a tour of the less salubrious destinations.  Now, if you’re unfamiliar with these bars, they are principally occupied by drunk/obnoxious men looking for girls.  Typically, the demographic of these men is best described as ‘older’ or ‘fat and tattooed’, and the girls tend to be commercially minded.  Our little group falls into the former category.

Part of the spiel of the girls is to flatter you.  Reader, one is never so tall, so handsome or so damned attractive as when these girls are cooing in your ear.  So I’m standing there, with a girl doing just this: “I think you are one of the most handsome men I’ve seen tonight”, “I’d really like to get to know you better”, “I can’t believe your physique”At this point I was laughing out loud, as my physique in particular is nothing to write home about.  However, at this point, the Friend leans over and says in my ear “I agree with everything she just said”, while lightly resting his hand on my arse (for balance of course).  I smile and begin talking to someone else about heading to a gay club so we can dance like we don’t care, but no one is keen.  Then the Friend says “I think we should”, but is told to shut-up by another of our crew.  Some time after this I get to politely decline a very persistent Egyptian man who is clearly not there for girls and adamant I should “come see his cabin”, all the while rubbing his enormous bulge against my thigh.

Later (much later), I lose my friends in another club and decide to head off alone.  As I step out into the night, a tall and shockingly handsome Indian guy walks past and smiles at me.  I smile back.  He immediately breaks stride and doubles back, staking out a spot maybe 10metres down the road.  The chase is on.  I walk down, pause, light a cigarette, and keep walking.  He follows.

My hotel was only 5 minutes away so we head in that direction, taking advantage of the darker laneways to familiarize ourselves with one anothers bodies.  We get to the hotel and head for the room.  Up against the wall, we grind and kiss, undressing one another.  He’s tall, well built and quite literally covered in hair, with a normal sized cut dick.  But he only wants to play, not fuck, not suck, just cuddle and kiss.  I hate that shit, so I boot him out and am deciding whether to hit the ‘buddy finder’ or just have a wank when the door knocks.  It’s like 2am, and there’s The Friend, swaying outside my door.  He probably passed the Indian guy in the corridor.  Close call.

In he comes, and after more drinks he starts to tell me he had recently broken off his engagement, what a nice guy I was, and that he’d recently broken off his engagement and I was a nice guy and he’d recently broken off his engagement (you getting the drift here?).  After his earlier comments about my looks and his later interest in the gay bar, I begin to suspect he might have a little secret.  So, I ask him a few leading questions but he goes all shy.  Remember at this point he views me as both a married man and a relatively new acquaintance, so there is perhaps an understandable reluctance on his part.  He finally stammers “his interests lie elsewhere”, but he’s clearly uncomfortable talking about it, so I bid him good night and send him back to his own room.

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