Irreconcilable Distance
Terry - Day One
I knew where I was. I just didn't know where here was. The dark was thick and moist and I was struggling to figure just how I got here. Even with the jumble in my mind, I did know why was I here. I could feel his weight. His flesh on mine was cool. Most disturbing, he wasn't moving even though I was. On automatic, my pelvis continued to thrust, spasmodically, hungrily. His body clung tight, holding me in.
What the hell was his name? Did I even know it? Had we been that personal in our dance? I could remember some things. Flashes that were surrounded by nothingness. The club had been hot, temperature and prospect wise. Its neon-lit back bar and the crush of anonymous bodies didn't ring a bell. Where had I been? There'd been a retro-looking disco bar twirling over the dance floor. Smiling white teeth in a golden bronze face. No, multiple faces; all sun kissed, all with that same stupid smile. And, whispers. He (whoever he was) had nibbled and then asked if I really wanted to stay.
Walking out? Stumbling out? Crawling out with his assistance? No memory at all. There had been a silver ring with a crow, or falcon, some kind of bird, had been on the hand that served my drink. Rum and cola. That same bird was on on the glass. Still no bells. Couldn't get a picture of the bartender's face, build; nothing but the hand and that ring.
Quit trying to figure it out, dummy. It's just the booze, that's all. Try concentrating on what you do remember. What's that last clear memory?
Clear memory? Well, I guess that would be sitting at the bar flirting with this hunky bartender. His name? He'd said it was Tony. The place? A mixed cowboy western and leather club with the strange name "Round The Corner" in Austin, Texas. Hooray. I now knew the general vicinity of here.
I already had a buzz when I'd swaggered into that place. Had a real hard on for myself. Wanted to just drowned my memories. Kept seeing Josh in every slim 6 foot blond across every smoke filled room. Hadn't got that pissed in years. I wanted the hurt to go away. Rum and cola seem to be working. Six years. Gone. Here I was right back in my old stomping grounds. Same old routine. Get drunk, get laid, get paid. Forget that last part. Six years makes a difference in what you can sell.
The fuzziness starts with this guy sitting on the stool next to me. He made a pass. He was close to my age, maybe a year or two younger. We danced. No line dance. Wasn't that steady on my feet. It's dim, but I seem to recall that this guy and I shared a few drinks and then headed out for wilder pastures.
Before I landed at "Round The Corner", I'd been looking. More honestly, cruising. While, at the same time, building up to a hard drunk. Started early the afternoon I'd arrived in Austin. Some of the hangouts from college were still in operation. Spent my first hour just leafing through the local gay bar rag. Reorientation. Then I started drinking, and testing. By 9 I knew. There was way too much competition. Most of it was younger, appearing more innocent. Why did I give a damn? I sure didn't need to make any money. Maybe it was just I needed the connection, anonymous, clear in its intent, no strings, no promises. Maybe I just wanted to fuck until my dick fell off. Well, that could still be done.
Austin had been an 'once in a while' place during my days in Boulder. Similar to Chicago and Phoenix. Places to go to make money. Not that I couldn't do quite well in Denver. But, I liked variety. That's an old story. Some other time. It did explain why I'd landed here after running away from Wichita. There were other things to explain why I did that. Could take time to get them straight in my mind. Not now. Right now I wanted to know . . . The Ramada Inn. Dumb ass. I'd used their shuttle from the airport. Rented a car. Done some shopping at the nearest mall. Unloaded my new duds and laptop in my room. Had an early meal and headed out. This guy and I were on my bed in room 472 at the Ramada Inn, Austin, Texas. Now I had it down to specifics!
Actually, I'd been back here three times during the evening. One hot sixty nine. Then an older guy who wanted my ass and had paid for the privilege. Damn, still had it! And then my dazed go around with this golden boy.
Good job, Einstein. You've reconstructed where here is. Now, stop humping his ass and find out who your partner is. Assuming you give a sweet fuck. When I climaxed, giving a couple of real strong bounces, he grunted. Nice to know you're alive. I kept that comment to myself. All my energy had been split between getting off and getting my memory back. Now, I let the sex wind down. Reaching up I twirled the switch on the over-bed lights. I winced. Damn, could sure use a Josh massage. Forget it.
He was a bronze god from head to toe. A Speedo of white flesh on his loins. Zonked out. I'd rolled him off and it was obvious he was on something. Limp dick. Bleary eyes. Runny nose. There. A dusting of white on the bedside table with a rolled bill told the story. Had I joined him? Didn't feel like it. Didn't care, right now. Time? 5:15. I turned out the light, pulled the covers over us and shut down. Drifting off to sleep I felt him move. He snuggled in. We spooned. He was cool against my back, his arms snuggled under mine. I smiled. Then I started shaking. Tears were leaking out. What had I done? Why? Stupid question. I'd strugle with the answer tomorrow, or . . . maybe later.
CONTINUE
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