**Author's note:
*This story was originally written for -- and won - a contest at another site. I post it here for my friends here at Lit. I hope you enjoy.
*Also: there is bisexual male content in this story. You have been warned.*
*
I was hopelessly lost. The company had sent me to meet with a potential client, so here I was, hundreds of miles from home, driving a rented car, with no clue where the hell I was. The map the girl at the convenience store had drawn me was totally fucked up, and I was sure I'd made at least one wrong turn anyway, so there I was.
At least I wasn't in a part of town where the walls were all covered with graffiti, but nevertheless, I could tell that it had seen better days.
I finally figured, 'Fuck it, I'll try to get to some kind of lodging and food, and I'll deal with it when it's daylight again.' The lights of a bar showed a block or so ahead of me, so I decided to grab a quick drink and get some advice on a place to stay the night.
As I pulled up to the bar, I noticed the rainbow awning. "Oh shit," I mumbled. Then I reasoned, "At least nobody I know will see me." I'd done a little bit of experimentation with the other side of the fence in college, but mostly at the behest of a bevy of hot coeds, and eased along by copious amounts of alcohol. Since I'd joined the "real" world, all that free-wheeling shit had been abandoned. I didn't begrudge anybody their personal lifestyle; I just hadn't let the past interfere with my present.
I could have moved on down the road to see if there was anything else along the way, but it was getting late, and I was damn hungry. Hopefully this place had a working kitchen, and it was still open.
"Teezer's," the elaborate sign in the window proclaimed, and taking a deep breath, I stepped through the door.
Inside, it generally looked like other bars I'd been in, except that this place was significantly cleaner than many of them. The room wasn't filled with smoke, which was another pleasant difference. I saw some male/female couples inside, but there were an awful lot of same sex couples, hence the rainbow outside.
A few appraising looks were cast my way as I approached the bar, both from male and female patrons. At least, I *thought* they were women, but I couldn't tell for sure. For a gay bar, it surprised me how sedate everyone was being. I'd been in a few gay bars in my college years, and it seemed that the later it got, the wilder the clientele became.
Anyhow, I finally got to the bar. The bartender was a clean-cut, olive-skinned guy, I'd guess in his early to mid twenties. He was shirtless, which wasn't entirely unusual in these places, and he displayed a really nice body. He probably got hundreds of propositions a night, I figured, or at least, he was likely the object of many a load shot in the privacy of many patrons' homes.
I waited patiently for him to work his way to me. Finally, he stopped in front of me and turned a set of piercing brown eyes on me. I couldn't remember feeling like this with another man before. Yes, I'd fooled around a little, as I said earlier, but there'd been no feeling then. It was just booze-induced sex.
"What'll you have?" he asked, a slight accent tingeing his question. His voice was masculine, lacking the feminine lilt that some gay guys tend to affect.
Quickly, I debated dumping the story on him, then decided to give a capsulated version. "Look, I'm lost as hell. I'm supposed to meet clients in the morning, but I missed a turn or two and it led me here. I need a place to stay the night and *something* to eat, not necessarily in that order."
He took my explanation without a flinch. "Let me check if the kitchen's still open. We don't have a big menu, but at least we can get something in you." Hypersensitivity to my surroundings threw a double entendre into that statement, but I didn't think he'd intended one.
"That'd be fantastic," I responded. "A burger and fries'd be greatly appreciated. And while you're there, a beer would do me good."
He turned and got me my order, then said, "I'll go see if they're done cleaning in the back."
I thanked him and started working on my beer. Curiosity got the best of me, and I turned to watch the other patrons while I drank.
The crowd had thinned out a little in the few minutes since I'd arrived. There were two male couples off to one side, three women in a corner, and a mixed pair with a rather uncomfortable-looking guy off to my right. It appeared the interest in me was over, which was perfectly fine by me. I hadn't come in to get laid; I just wanted food and information on someplace I could crash for the night.
After a little bit, the bartender re-emerged. He came right back over to me and said, "They were packed up for the evening, but I told Phillipe your story. He was ready to be pissy, but when I told him you were cute, he said he'd get you something."
I blushed at the "cute" bit. Hell, I couldn't remember ever being called that. Now that I'm in my mid-thirties, I thought the possibility of "cute" was far behind me. Then again, I guessed I had different criteria.
"Thanks a lot. I'll have to give Phillipe a big tip for accommodating me."
The bartender smiled. "You better not let Phillipe hear you say that. He tends to take things literally."
I laughed. The statement hadn't been meant to be anything, but in here, it seemed almost anything said could mean something else.
The bartender then told me, "It'll be a few minutes yet. Shouldn't be long."
A perverse part of me wanted to respond with disappointment, but I had to remember where I was, and that I wasn't looking for anything beyond a hotel room after I'd eaten, and I was still convinced that my days of experimentation had been over for more than ten years.
A little while later, a tall, thin, dark haired, dark eyed man came in with a plate holding a great looking hamburger and an enormous stack of fries. I could only assume this was Phillipe. When he placed the plate in front of me, I thanked him profusely and watched him silently back away. He stepped up to the bartender and I heard him, in a loud stage whisper, say, "You were right, TJ, he really *is* cute." I found my face feeling hot again.
Phillipe turned my direction again and gave me a long-distance kiss, then sashayed back to the kitchen. The bartender leaned in and told me, "He's into older guys. His last steady was in his fifties." He motioned to my food. "Enjoy. Phillipe's burgers are to die for."
While I ate, I continued observing my surroundings. The place continued to empty. The straight couple was long gone, and one of the male couples. All that was left were the one male couple and one of the three women in the corner. I was the only one now at the bar, so it was getting pretty sparse.
At one point, TJ stopped in front of me and asked, "So, whattya think?"
I pointed at the sandwich. "This, I believe, is one of, if not *the* best hamburger I've ever had. These are great fries, too. I normally don't get too worked up about bar food, but this is fabulous."
TJ smiled again. "That's great to hear. We get written up in the local "alternative" paper all the time, and we even had an article published in the local mainstream a couple years back. It's pretty much general knowledge that we have the best food for a bar in the city, but unfortunately, not too many folks are willing to come to a 'gay' bar for a night on the town. It's a pity. Phillipe and the gang could run their own restaurant if they wanted, but for some reason, they hang on here."
Holding my sandwich for another bite, I admitted, "I'm sure glad they're here."
TJ hung in my vicinity for a bit longer. Eventually, he asked, "So, who are these clients you're here to see?"
I swallowed and told him.
He thought a while, just saying the name of the place over and over. Suddenly, he called out to the pair of men at the table beyond me, "Tommy, isn't that near here?"
The guy, apparently "Tommy," started out, "Uh, I think so. Isn't that over by..."
He was interrupted by the woman in the corner. "It's four blocks south and ten blocks east of here. It's an ugly yellow building with red trim."
I thanked her, then turned back to my meal. TJ said, "There you go. You're nearly there already. Trouble for you is, there aren't any hotels nearby. Only rooms are clear across town, and as you've already found out, it's kind of a pain-in-the-ass route, no pun intended."
I put down the French fry I had halfway to my mouth. "Fuck. What the hell am I gonna do? I sure as hell don't want to drive all the fuck back and risk getting even *more* lost at an even *later* hour, and even if I *do* get to a hotel, how am I going to find my way *back*?"
TJ thought a while, obviously torn over something. "Look," he said, "I'm gonna hate myself for saying this, because folks are gonna think I broke my vow not to sleep with customers, but at this point, I say, 'Fuck 'em.' I live around the corner. I got a king size and a couch. No damn sense in you going all the fuck back to the far side of town."
Was I hearing what I thought I was hearing? I was being invited to spend the night at the home of this obviously hot, young bartender. I heard a gasp and a huff behind me, and I knew the two gay guys, Tommy and his buddy, were astounded. My guess was that they'd been trying to get into TJ's pants and figured that was what I was going to get to do.
The thought of not having to do any more driving sounded heavenly, but I didn't want to cause anybody any trouble. "Thanks for the offer, TJ, but I couldn't impose on you like that. I mean, you don't know me. I could have made up the story about work."
He waved off my protests. "Don't worry about it. Let 'em guess. It'll be fun to hear 'em whine, 'How come you let a stranger in, an *old* one at that, into your place? You turnin' into Phillipe?' I can handle it. Hell, you don't know anything about me, either. You could end up in my refrigerator, for all you know."
I laughed and picked up my last fry. "I don't think you'd tell me about it if that's what you intended to do. Thank you for the invitation. I accept. The company will be confused, but happy they won't have to pay for a room."
