SHORT STORIES : Cute Guy 37

©2006 Andrew Thompson

Jack parks the car and crosses the road to the Moray, casually scoping for "cute guy 37 living in New Farm".

The appointed meeting time rolls by, and Jack thinks 'OK I wasn't really that excited anyway'.  He finishes his coffee and is about to leave when a shabby looking chap minces up the footpath.  Jack looks at him blankly and shabby guy (SG) looks back.  Jack thinks **OMFG** please don't let it be him!  Naturally, it is.

SG's Gaydar profile was accurate in one respect – he lived in New Farm.  A better description would have been "desperate perve 65, with 30 year old photos on the web (including ones of his long-dead dog!!) who likes to spend two hours getting pissed on house wine and chain smoking while loudly lamenting his lost loves and trying to slide his hand further up Jack's shorts."

But Jack isn't bitter - He's too nice a guy for that.  He listens politely, successfully hiding his yawns while accepting the sympathetic smiles of the lesbians at the next table.  They seem to be enjoying the entertainment and make no effort to leave.

Two hours later, SG pauses to catch his breath.  As if by magic, Jack's phone rings – it was a miracle, a divine gift from God to aid his escape!  Jack affects his best apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry, it's urgent - I have to go."
It was only the dog groomer confirming a booking but that didn't matter.

Jack half-runs into the cafe to pay his bill.  SG follows him inside. While Jack stands at the counter, SG slips his hand down the back of Jack's shorts and grins.
"You're wearing a G.  Guys only wear G's when they want to get fucked."
Jack relinquishes his buttocks from SG's Vulcan death grip, turns around and smiles.
"Get out of my way or you'll never fuck again."
SG shuffles aside, shielding his groin from the threatened knee.

Jack saunters back to the car, contented with the outcome, his senses filled with the strangely harmonious sound of laughing lesbians.