by TomNJus
"Sure, there's a little place around the corner. It's called The Lounge Lizard." He saw the face I made and laughed, "Yeah, I know. It's a terrible name, but it's a nice place and they have a great bartender. He mixes the drinks right instead of making them weak to save money."
"Alright, but I'll need to head back to my place first to change clothes. The only thing I have here is stuff for working out in." I said apologetically, he was putting that terrific suit back on while we talked and would be ready to go right away while I hadn't even showered yet.
"Hey, no problem, I'm going to change my clothes before we go anyway. This suit looks great, but it wouldn't be comfortable for a night out. So, I'll pick you up at your apartment?" He said, grinning and slapping me lightly on the shoulder before pulling his suit coat from his locker.
"Ahh...ok. That'll be fine. I'm in 1921." I replied, slightly stunned by the progression of events. I was trying to figure out how I was going to spend the evening with a man that I was this attracted to without making a complete ass out of myself.
"Ok, see you in a bit then, Joel." I saw him smile again out of the corner of my eye as he patted my bare forearm in a friendly way, giving it a squeeze. The squeeze went straight to my straining cock, making it twitch a little. While I showered and put on clean workout clothes, I tried to decide if Devlin being a touchy guy was a good thing. While in the elevator I concluded that it was good if he was into guys, me in particular, and very bad if he wasn't. Sighing heavily as the doors opened onto my floor, I decided that it was probably going to turn out to be a very bad thing indeed.
I went right to my walk-in closet, and desperately began trying to find something appropriate to wear for a casual evening out with a perfect stranger who was, almost certainly, straight. Considering several options took a little time. I decided that a t-shirt and jeans would make me look like I was trying too hard to be casual. Yet the sport coat felt as if I were trying too hard to look nice for something that should be nothing more than a couple of guys going out for drinks. Jesus, I thought to myself, where in hell did this Rugby shirt come from. Shaking my head as I stuffed it back into the cubbyhole I'd pulled it out of, I told myself not to get distracted; I was running out of time.
I finally decided on an outfit, and laid it out on the bed then went into the master bath to get ready. I began to worry that I was taking too long to get ready while I blow-dried my hair, but I knew that it would look odd to go without a fresh shave considering what I would be wearing. Putting on the barest touch of cologne was a last minute decision. I like Hugo Boss, the smell of which I can only describe as making you want more; I certainly hoped it would, in any case. Every step of preparation kicked my anticipation of the evening up a notch.
The soft, linen slacks, in a deep charcoal, would nicely compliment the short sleeved, smoke grey, brushed silk shirt. The buttons were giving me a lot of trouble because my fingers were trembling from a nasty case of nerves. I felt as if I was taking forever trying to pick out accessories. A silver, marine link chain, which rested just below the hollow at the base of my throat, would show nicely if I left the top two buttons on the shirt undone. A black, crocodile belt with a silver buckle would pull the whole ensemble together perfectly. I felt like I was getting ready for a date and the problem was that, no matter how much I might wish it were one, it simply wasn't. I took my black Birkenstocks into the kitchen, to wipe them down with a damp cloth, when there was a knock at the door. Supposing it must be Devlin, I breathed a sigh of relief that I was ready on time and went to answer it. I opened the door with my Birks still in hand and a small smile, hoping I looked acceptable.
*Devlin*
I heard the squeak of shoes on the tile floor heading my way. I turned saw my coffee shop hunk staring at my bare ass. I tried to suppress my smirk as he quickly swept his eyes upwards. It didn't completely confirm my suspicion that he was into men but certainly did support my theory. As I finished drying off, I thought about asking him to join me for drinks. Hell, it would at least assure me of conversation for a few hours.
I turned sideways to pull up my boxer briefs while asking him to join me for a drink at the same time. I kept my eyes from looking at him, wanting instead to use my peripheral vision to see where his eyes headed. Sure enough, he followed my hands as I first covered myself and then made the necessary adjustments.
As we introduced ourselves and spoke about where and when we would meet, he pulled his shirt up over his head, revealing his lean torso. The sight, in addition to his husky Irish accent, was even better than I had envisioned in my head just a short time ago. He had a nicely formed chest, but what I found to be very irresistible was the hair on it. It was just the right amount, enough to run your fingers over and enough to direct your eyes to the center and downwards. Unfortunately, his workout clothes prevented me from seeing where the treasure trail ended.
I was in a much better mood as I arrived home to strip off my suit and change my clothes for the night. It would be fun to flirt with Joel, watching his eyes ogle my body. I made myself a bet that I'd have confirmation as to his sexual preference before our second drink was empty. I pulled on a pair of black jeans and yellow polo shirt. I left the buttons on the shirt undone and after sliding flip-flops on my feet, checked myself in the mirror. I liked the way the jeans followed the form of my body and the way the shirt clung to my chest, with the sleeves stopping at the middle of my biceps. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but I was hoping I was the kind of guy Joel would be into.
The first thing I noticed as Joel opened the door was his green eyes, even deeper and attractive than I remembered. They had that twinkle in them that I could get lost in very easily. Eyes that told me he was a softie at heart but could raise a little hell as well. I'd have to remember not to stare into them all night. My eyes lowered to catch the chain around his neck resting above, and inviting me to, the hair on his chest. I extended my hand for a shake and realized he was holding his Birkenstocks.
"Hope I'm not too early, Joel."
Smiling, he invited me inside which gave me a chance to take in his body. His linen pants clung to his ass making my cock stir, wanting to move in close and rub myself against him. The silk shirt only added to his sexiness as I felt my hands twitching to run over the smooth material.
"Hey, Joel, you don't mind walking to The Lizard, do you? It's right around the corner and I make it a practice not to get behind the wheel after I've been drinking."
"Walking is fine with me; it's a nice evening out. You're not one of those guys who stumbles all over the place walking home drunk are you?"
I chuckled at Joel's comment and was surprised at it as well. I noticed his face flush slightly and felt awkward for him. He obviously didn't know me and didn't realize that I enjoyed that kind of humor.
As we walked down the street we began talking, well, I was talking; Joel was listening. I was all right with that though, anything to get this stud to feel more comfortable worked for me. I decided to tell him about Cathy, an ex-girlfriend, to see if he would reciprocate with a story about an ex of his own. I'd be able to confirm his gender preference if he'd tell me about one of his past relationships. I also wanted to let him know I wasn't any sort of relationship with anyone now.
"So, I haven't been seeing anyone for the past few months. I was dating this one girl, Cathy, but it just wasn't working out. For a while, I thought she would be the one for me. She, not only was gorgeous, but she was a talented artist as well. I should take you to her gallery sometime. We're still friends, albeit, somewhat distant friends. I think I became too engrossed in my career to be honest. That in my mind is why it didn't work out. I still feel as if I blew the relationship. Anyway, the saying about artists being great passionate lovers, oh that is so true." I gave Joel a nudge in the ribs and a grin.
By now, we'd reached The Lounge Lizard. I opened the door for Joel as I apologized for doing all the talking and insisted that as soon as we had a drink in hand I wanted to hear about him.
Much to my chagrin, Devlin talked about his last girlfriend all the way to the bar, confirming my belief that he was heterosexual. I'd been quiet on the way over, still embarrassed by what I'd said about stumbling home, and now he made it clear that he expected me to tell him about myself. I didn't know how to tell him about my personal life without lying or making it obvious that I'm gay and could feel my nerves fraying again.
We found a table and settled in. He sat beside, rather than across from me, making my jitters worse. He offered to get the first round, ordering a Guinness, while I had a single malt Scotch on the rocks. I was surprised, when the drinks came, to see a full three fingers in my glass. Most places would only give you two unless you specified. I killed half in one go, wanting to get as much in as quickly as possible. I desperately hoped the liquor would calm me and let me feel comfortable so I'd be capable of holding up my half of the conversation.
He watched the second half of my drink go down a few seconds later with an arched brow as I raised my hand to call the waitress back over for a second round, which I paid for. I didn't know what he was thinking and after I got a little more Scotch into my empty stomach, I really wouldn't care. I felt the alcohol working its magic almost immediately. My tension eased as I sipped at my second Scotch and I started telling him about myself without mentioning anything terribly personal. I gave him my life history, pretty much, but was very sketchy and generic when it came to relationships.
I caught myself looking him over more and more often as the booze loosened me up. I felt some of my inhibitions relax while I told him about my parents being from Ireland and that they'd been in the process of becoming citizens when I was born and told him a little about my siblings. I couldn't help but admire the way his shirt sleeves strained across his biceps as I talked a little about college and how thrilled my parents had been when I passed the Bar exam. I boldly stared at his chest through his tight shirt while he peeled the label from his bottle. I explained that I'd lived with a couple of people, because he asked, but really only said that neither relationship had worked. I kept seeing him in the locker room, gloriously naked, while I laid my life out in bare terms and didn't really give a shit that I had a hard on under the table.
"So, do you have a girlfriend right now?" he asked, just as I was polishing off the last bit of my drink and Patsy Cline came on the jukebox. Distracted by the song and feeling a touch tipsy, I snorted and answered without screening what I was going to say, then had to cover my slip.
"What the hell would I do with a girlfriend? I mean, I've just made junior partner in my firm. I don't have time for that kind of thing." I watched his brow arch at me again and decided it was a good time to lose myself in the music. Someone had picked I Fall to Pieces. It happened to be one of my favorites and I let myself fall into it, thinking that afterward I'd be able to change the subject and it would seem natural.
Of course, I've never been able to listen to Patsy without joining her and this time was no exception. I quietly sang along in my light bass, blending with her sweet alto voice with an ease only acquired from years of practice, while signaling for a third drink. When She's Got You came on, I was surprised and delighted. I wondered if who ever picked them had recently been through a bad break up, or if they were just a lover of the Queen of Country Music like me. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes to immerse myself fully in the sound. This was my favorite of Patsy's songs, and I forgot the world around me for the duration.
When the song ended, I opened my eyes to a peculiar expression on Devlin's face and flushed, realizing that he must think me very strange for singing along with a country star that died long before I was even born. Chuckling self-deprecatingly, I shrugged and said, "Sorry, I grew up listening to Patsy. She's my dad's favorite singer and he transferred that love to me. I've never been able to listen to her without singing along." I took a quick drink from my glass, trying to cover my renewed nervousness.
*Devlin*
I could sense some nervousness on Joel's part when I sat next to him, as opposed to across the table. I know I tend to come across self-confident and it bothers me when others are uncomfortable around me. I made a nod towards the large screen TV, telling Joel I like to keep an eye on the game. It wasn't really true; it was my feeble attempt at making this easier for him.
When our drinks arrived, I saw how quickly Joel drank half of his in a single gulp. Again, maybe it was nerves I told myself, but, shit, if this is how he always drank then I would be the idiot stumbling on the walk home, providing he picked me up off the bar floor first. I could handle my share, don't get me wrong, I had the college experiences with alcohol like everyone else, but the rate at which Joel started out was beyond my capabilities.
I had three-quarters of my Guinness left when Joel was ordering us another round. I was about to put my hand on the back of Joel's chair and tell him I was sorry if he was feeling nervous, it wasn't intentional on my part to make him feel that way. But before I could do that, he set his scotch down and began telling me about himself. I opted to keep both hands on the table and listen, while glancing between Joel and the TV, hoping it would help calm him.
I could feel Joel's eyes on me as he began telling me about his family. Avoiding his scrutiny, I purposely averted my attentions to the label on my Guinness, draught in a bottle, fiddling with it as he spoke. I glanced over, smiled and gave an approving nod when he spoke of his Irish ancestry, then turned back to my beer. Joel seemed to be calming down and I was becoming more interested in him the more he talked. Occasionally I would sneak a glance his way, eyeing his body and imagining him naked.
I knew as soon as I opened my mouth that I was a fucking idiot. All the ease that Joel had finally achieved was gone in a flash with just one, stupid question from me. Why the hell I would ask him about a girlfriend, when I suspected his preference towards men was beyond me. I felt like a total asshole. I guess I anticipated Joel would look over at me and simply tell me, "No, fuckwad, I'm into guys". Of course, given how nervous he had been, if I'd bothered to think I'd have known he'd never say that.
I wasn't ashamed of liking both genders and if someone didn't like me because of it, then they really weren't a good friend. I assumed everyone would live this way. It's difficult for me to understand why Joel would be ashamed or reluctant to admit his preference for men. Still, it didn't excuse my ignorance for asking the question. It was obvious, however, that Joel had danced around this question before and he handled it very smoothly.
My mind was reeling and I was thankful when Patsy Cline came on the jukebox. She was my favorite country artist, even though only a few friends knew. She was like musical comfort food for me. Patsy Cline was always playing at home when I grew up. When I was in college, I discovered how seductive and loving her music really was during a few hot relationships. Now, I connected Patsy Cline with comfort and love. What a coincidence that Joel seemed to be so into her music as well.
I ordered another round of drinks and sat back in my chair just listening to Joel sing along with Patsy's voice. Subtly I would glance over at Joel, admiring his appreciation of her music. His voice was perfect accompaniment to hers. I thought to myself that he must be a good dancer as I watched his body move in his chair. Damn, he didn't even realize how much he was turning me on.
Before the jukebox even got to She's Got You, and I heard Joel's version, I had decided what to do. I knew I had to let him know I was into men as well as women; and make it clear I was very interested in getting to know him better. His version, exchanging every 'she' in the vocal with 'he', only served to convince me of what I should do.
When the song finished, I looked over at Joel. I probably had a weird expression on my face, knowing what I was about to say. I placed an arm on the back of his chair, turning my body towards him. My knee rubbed against his thigh and I felt Joel jerk slightly. I could tell he was very aroused which, in turn, aroused me. He looked straight forward, as he tried to explain the reason
for getting lost in the music, as if there had to be a reason. I could feel his nervousness; I could see his body tense up and knew I had to do this right. I couldn't be the usual, blunt Devlin. No this required finesse. I gathered up everything I had learned in every relationship I ever had, in an attempt to form the words properly. He turned his face, looking, searching into my eyes. His sweet, shy expression threw me for a loop.
"Joel, if...uh...we are going to continue...drinking like this... I need to eat."
My lips smiled, but my armpits were perspiring profusely, I couldn't do it yet. I had never had something like this happen to me before.
"Italian, steaks, or Mexican are my favorite. Any of those suit your fancy?"
*Joel*
Devlin leaned in toward me, his leg brushing mine, sending a bolt of heat lightning directly to my cock. My arousal had diminished while I lost myself in the music, but it returned full force with this slight contact. I found myself drowning in the deep wells of his blue-green eyes, and stopped breathing when he leaned in closer. I would have sworn that he was on the verge of kissing me, but knew that I was projecting my own longing onto him.
All I really caught of what he was saying was something about needing food and him asking what I'd rather eat. Wrenching my gaze from his almost pained me, but I knew it had to be done; if I'd kept looking, he would have seen my desires reflected in my own and I couldn't have that. Not if I wanted his friendship.