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********************************************************************** Age Before Beauty By Tom Cup Chapter 1 No Deception
One might ask what a middle aged, well-coiffured, and respected businessman was doing at a twenty/thirty-something happening gay bar -- by middle aged I mean slightly over fifty, and as I intend to live to somewhere around a hundred and twenty I guess that makes me somewhat less than middle aged. I'll go with that -- yes, one could ask but the answer is obvious. No, I was not deceiving myself into believing that one of these young studs would suddenly realize that he really should prefer "age before beauty." That would be hypocritical. I am no hypocrite. Neither was I looking for a mercy fuck. That is not to say I am above accepting such a gift; I never turn down gifts. No, the truth is that I had long ago ceased seeking rejection. I would be satisfied with sipping my Martini, and accumulating imagines, in my mind, of the dancing youth I had once possessed. These images I would recall later in the night for formal use during my private time. In other words, not to put too fine a point on it, I was there gathering jack off material.
So you can imagine my surprise when the vision of loveliness that I groped with my eyes, as he sashayed to the bar, looked me in the eyes and flashed a most seductively pleasing smile. I was courteous to form; smiled and nodded him a greeting. I watched as he leaned over the counter (my mind complete in its lecherousness), to place his order in the bent ear of Joe, the bartender. He sat and waited as Joe prepared his order, nodding once again in my direction. Joe placed his drink in front of him and then turned and placed a drink maker before me.
"Compliments of the gentleman at the end of the bar," he grinned, and winked a nodded, "Says his name's Troy. Wants to know if he can join you."
I looked down the bar at Troy, remembering to control my astonished opened mouth, and smile. "Of course," I said to Joe, "It would be my pleasure."
Joe nodded his agreement. "I'll be damned," he said, "Some guys have all the luck. You old dog!" He turned toward Troy who was already rising and heading in my direction.
"Hi, I'm Troy."
"It's nice to meet you Troy. I'm Terrance. Terrance Crawford. But please call me Terry."
He cocked his head and smiled at me. "I like Terrance. Do you mind?"
"Not at all," I replied. He could call me any damned thing he wanted. My heart was already racing and I felt more alive than I had in years. His hair was a chestnut brown, completely out of style with the look-at-me, upwardly mobile, hip gay set that frequented the bar. His wavy bangs -- yes, bangs -- hung just touching his lavish eyebrows, accenting his deep pooling blue eyes. His hair had once displayed a shag cut, long out grown, which gently reached his collar. His lips were full and wanting. His cheeks were high boned and fleshy. I longed instantly to place a hand on one of those cheeks and press my lips to his.
"Cool. I saw you sitting alone and, since I'm alone, thought we could share a drink and some conversation."
"I'd like that very much Troy."
"Cool," he said again, flashing another one of those heart-stopping smiles.
"Troy, I need to ask..."
"Twenty-three, five-seven, one-sixty and the rest? Well, let's get to know each other first." He smiled devilishly.
I chuckled. I had to admit I was wondering if he was legal but that wasn't what was foremost on my mind. I had thought him quite the object to drool over from a distance but now that he was sitting with me I wondered if he was a hustler. The clothes he was wearing left little doubt that beneath was a body any male in the bar would certainly appreciate. So why the hell was he sitting, wasting valuable cruising time, with me?
He sighed, shrugged, and waved his hand casually around the bar. "They care about how good they all look together. That's the first requirement to getting laid. You have to look good. If all I wanted were to get laid, I'd play the game. But it's not all I'm looking for."
"What are you looking for?"
"Mmmm... someone that has more to offer."
"Such as?"
"Oh," he said getting wide-eyed, "I don't want your money. I have a job. Pays well too. It's because I've been in and out of so many relationships. When I stopped to ask why they all ended; it's because I'm interested in many more avenues of life than my contemporaries. I get bored with the bar hopping, looking better than the next gay couple shit." We both chuckled and he shook his head. "I know," he smirked, "So what the hell am I doing in a bar?"
One of the things I find immensely stimulating is a person that has the ability to laugh at himself, to look at oneself and laugh at the contradictions in ones behavior as opposed to ones stated paradigm. My contradiction of course was that I stated that I had given up any hope of meeting a young stud willing to even consider a relationship with someone of my age but the truth was that I had never given up that hope. I would settle for masturbatory material, I would concede to a mercy fuck but, when it came right down to it, I was still on the make. I shook my head and laughed at myself.
"What?" Troy asked.
"Oh what a pair we would make," I said shaking my head.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Troy answered, "I'm not offering to jump in the sack or anything. I just thought we could get to know each other and then..."
"No," I interrupted, "I should be the one apologizing. I wasn't insinuating that I was expecting to jump right in bed with you, although I wouldn't object, what I meant was... well, it's refreshing to meet someone like you and I wouldn't mind getting to know you better."
"Oh, cool. I mean I don't mean to offend you. It's just I have a rule about not jumping in the sack the first time I meet someone. Anyone."
"No offense taken. And it is a wise policy. I wonder why I don't have it?" Again we both laughed.
I ordered another round of drinks, which Joe placed before us as he smiled shaking his head. Troy and I spent the evening together chatting about his life and mine. He had an infectious laugh and I found myself lost in the tale of his life, his personal philosophy and his hopes and dreams for his future. In truth, he was far more thoughtful than his years and quite a conversationalist.
After my three-drink limit, feeling warmed by the alcohol and the pleasure of Troy's company, I offered to buy him dinner. He frowned a bit and said that he wouldn't mind but that we should go Dutch. I understood his concern and told him that I really wouldn't expect anything in return for the dinner. I told him that I simply hadn't eaten and would very much like his company.
"And besides, my bank roll will most likely take the smaller percentage hit. No strings attached. Just a shared meal."
He smiled and wagged a finger at me. "I'm going to have to be careful with you, you old charmer."
"Oh," I said grinning, "There is no doubt about that!"
We gathered our coats. I slapped a joyful tip on the counter for Joe, who looked up and shook his head once more, and Troy and I exited into the cool night air.
I won't try to deceive you into believing that being seen with Troy by my side wasn't a large ego boost. Of course it was. Just the thought that I was spending a sociable evening with him kept me throbbing the entire time. If blue balls was the price of this indulgence then so be it! I discovered that both Troy and I have a love for ancient literature, history and art. When he discovered I bought and sold rare out of print books he said absently and in awe, "Wow, I'd like to get a look at your collection some time."
"Any time. But the best of my collection I keep in my personal library, at home."
He sucked in his bottom lip and smiled shaking his head. How I would have given anything to be his mouth at that moment, coveting that bottom lip!
"You don't give up do you?" He grinned.
"Who me?" I feigned innocence.
"Yes you. You're perfectly wicked."
"You have no idea," I guffawed.
Our meals arrived and we ate in relative silence, enjoying each other's company. I must admit I ate slowly in sorrowful contemplation of the evening ending. A few times we looked serendipitously into one another's eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that I would miss Troy once we parted for the evening.
As we left the restaurant, I thanked Troy for the most pleasurable evening in my long memory. He smiled and asked me wasn't I going to try to get him to come home with me.
"No," I answered gravely, "Would you if I tried?"
"No," he answered, "I was just wondering."
"You are a strange bird. What? You want to see an old man make a fool of himself by being turned down?"
"No, I was just measuring your integrity."
Perhaps the last statement should have offended me but it didn't. In fact, it warmed me. It told me of Troy's integrity. Here was a very special young man who had shared himself with me more intimately than I could have hoped. As we stood on the corner, him pointing that his apartment was a few blocks in the opposite direction from where I had left my car, I had the irresistible urge to take his hand. He didn't object.
"So," I asked, "Is a good-bye kiss off the list of first encounter behaviors also?"
"Yeah," he said. My heart sank. "But," he continued, "Good night kisses are allowed."
I found myself gently tugged into his arms. Our lips met. The warmth of the evening was sealed by his kiss. I watched him as he headed toward his apartment. He turned and waved just before disappearing from view. I turned, with my emotions skipping, and headed for my car.
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Tom Cup's "Of Our Teenage Years" is scheduled for publication and release in paperback in 2004. Check it out at http://www.tomcup.com!