+Because who doesn't secretly want a Suho in their life?+
##Reese
It is one of the great tragedies of this world that Minh, my best friend and a kick-ass bartender, is straight. It was just another night at the upscale bar that he worked at, sipping on a vodka-tonic, talking about whether he wanted kids. At least he had his shit together, married, house, dog, the works unlike this bitch who had barely gotten his GED. I had spent my early twenties doing what every cute queen does but with a tad more fervor, chasing hot bad boys, drinking enough to pickle a lesser queen, chain smoking and partying until the sun came up. I just finished telling Minh about my upcoming job interview for a well paying data entry position when the finest piece of man meat I ever set my eyes on walked into the bar.
Okay, lets get one thing straight friends other than the fact that this bar was, I'm sure the hell not. This bar was one of those upscale ones where the drinks were 20 bucks a pop, everything was covered in wood and there was jazz playing. Not a place where a cute little thing like me -should- find trouble. But he walked in and I swallowed hard. He was one of those types, tattooed to filth, piercings everywhere, and edgy hair. I made a concerted effort to avoid looking at him. Stop, bitch, seriously. One more peek, for the mental jerk-off catalog. I bit my lip as I realized I could see every hard muscle defined in his shirt, the substantial bulge in his pants and the curve of his ass. He sat at the other end of the bar as I berated myself mentally. *Look I get it hunty, he was smoking hot but a bad boy is a bad boy. A guy that hot, even if he was gay, was an asshole. Period. No, gurl you're better than this.* I spent the next hour stealing little glances of the lotus tattoo on his face, the sharp black satin stretched against the muscles of his shoulders, the ring is his nose, the snake tattoo on his neck. Minh was talking about interview question strategies and I tried my damndest to absorb his words. It's just the hot bad boy at the bar was so damn distracting. I kept saying to myself: He's straight, he's straight. I stole one more glance. Last one bitch for reals. My green-gold eyes met his predatory black eyes. I almost forgot to breathe. His eyes looked at me like he would put me on my knees and order me to call him daddy. And I would.
That was my queue to leave. *No more assholes, honey*. I just needed to find myself some sweet, gentle guy to treat me well and was decent in bed. Maybe I was a jaded queen, but every nice guy I tried hooking up with was either inexperienced as hell or just plain boring in the sack. Call me high maintenance but I wasn't interested in being a teacher and I just needed something... more than limp handjobs. I knew mister tall, ripped and pierced could fuck me hard. *No, gurl, stahp. I've been through this before.*
The next two times I went in to visit with Minh, I actively checked for the hot bad boy before entering. Luckily he hadn't been there.
My interview went well, at least I thought so. It was exhausting acting so straight-laced and well, straight, for so long. Minh insisted I come tell him about it afterward, bribing me with a free drink. I gave him the dry, wrung-out details of my interview. I wore my suit, taking the train right over from the office. Even my navy blue suit, black leather shoes, thick glasses and slicked back curls made me look straight. I did pop in a floral button up, just for a little gay flair somewhere. I was feeling the need for another cigarette, I had already smoked half a pack today. My anxiety was a bitch today with the interview. When I saw mister tattooed bad boy walk in, I cursed in my head. Luckily, he seemed to be with his bros and they sat at a table pretty far from me. I breathed a little. I talked with Minh some more. We discussed Sir Pooches, his cute little corgi whom I adored and luckily, liked me too. I even caught up with Erica, who I've known since I was in high school. Her love life is about as messy as mine, which was a task given she was a straight woman. I noticed mister hot and bad was gone, though his broskis were still here. I was dying for a cigarette and now was a good time to sneak out.
I lit up my menthol as I stepped out into the small smoke pit the bar had. I hadn't even put my lighter away when I noticed I wasn't alone. I almost cursed aloud when I saw the stupidly hot man standing not even 6 feet from me. The string of curses in my head were enough to put the sassiest queens to shame. I actively avoided looking at him as I stood against the metal railing of the covered smoke pit. I took a long drag, feeling the tingle in my mouth and nicotine hit my lungs. I was trapped in this tiny space with this man, not able to go back inside without wasting this precious cigarette. I was like a tiny rabbit cornered with nowhere to go. I cursed harder in my thoughts. Just finish your cigarette quickly Reese and get back inside. Look straight. Please let me look straight. Please don't talk to me. He leaned against the railing, his own cigarette hanging from his lips. His eyes were hooded and wolfish, lazily so. A quiet, tense moment passed.
His sultry silky voice cut through the awkward silence like a knife "Nice suit."
He was just trying to be sociable. Just be polite. "Thanks."
He asked casually, "Interview?"
Think straight. Talk straight. "Something like that."
He added, "No need to be nervous. I'm sure you did fine."
I took another long drag. I looked through my peripherals. His shirt was low cut, showing off his muscular chest. I looked away, screwing my eyes shut. I definitely pissed off the cigarette gods. This smoke was taking forever. It was all the half-finished cigarettes I didn't smoke while drunk, wasn't it. I felt his eyes on me. My anxiety was spinning me up.
His lazy, silken voice again, "You know, I just gotta say you are super fucking hot."
My brain short circuited. I clamped my jaw shut. My insides turned liquid and my ass quivered. FUCK. He's an asshole, queen! Don't do it! Say something straight Reese. What would a straight dude even say to that? Like seriously. I've never been straight in my whole life. How would I know what a straight dude would say? He was the wolf, having caught the rabbit in the corner.
Nervous laugh and all from me, "Thanks. I guess." I thought I would die, right there in that smoke pit..
