(As posted on his blog,) my truth to Jake was "What is a moment that gave you the most sensual pleasure when you look back on it. (doesn’t have to be sexual - sensual was a deliberate choice.) And why…."
A couple of days ago, when I told a couple of friends about Jake’s challenge they sat for a moment, then wanted to know what he wrote. I chuckled and told them he hadn’t written it yet, but I had to respond to the same question. Again, silence for a moment. Then I was asked how I could do that, as that would
It’s a two-bar story that all took place on one night. I was living in the Montrose area of Houston (18 gay bars in a relatively small area) and was trying to get over an absolute terrible week. My self-respect/self-worth seemed to have been flushed down the proverbial (pervert-ial?) toilet, and wanted to get out and get away from it all.
I walked my way down to the first bar called Heaven. When it first opened it was a dancing twinkie bar. During the week, it was slightly more welcoming to those who usually didn’t dance with their shirts off and pants slipping slightly down their bubble butts. I sat at the bar and chatted with the bartender. There were at that moment few in the place. The bartender was a good one, and thought he knew how to work a customer. At one point, he took a candle from the back part of the bar, lit it and put it in front of me and said: “There, now I can see you better.” The place was well lit, so my heart really didn’t flutter (stupid me). As I was sharing an apartment with a bartender, I thought I recognized the “hook” to keep a customer there - drinking and tipping (especially tipping)(stupid me). I finished the drink, did the patron flirting with the bartender shtick and took my leave.
Literally one city block away was a dance bar called Pacific Street. A dance bar that was packed every night it was open. While I enjoy dancing, many times I go and find my niche (re: corner) and listen and enjoy the DJ’s work. It was only a short walk to get there. I was not disappointed, the music was great, and the crowd was fun. I sat and enjoyed the people, the music and felt a great sense of relaxation start to sweep over me. So much so (no I don’t think it was the vodka) that I decided I would get out and dance for a bit. There was no way I was going to take my shirt off but I could certainly enjoy being around those who had.
I was getting into the music and enjoying the feeling and energy surrounding me. I felt a hand on my waist and shoulder. I thought it was someone who needed me to move but then there was a voice in my ear. “I could see you better at my bar, could see you here on the dance floor, but don’t turn around.” My already beating rapidly heart skipped a beat. I recognized the voice and the phrase. I stood still and put my hand on the one on the shoulder and the other on the waist. I could feel the warmth from behind me, and feel a soft breath occasionally on the back of my neck.
I was being gently pulled toward the DJ booth side of the floor. It was an area where the lights didn’t quite reach,
“May I turn around now?”
“Not yet. Let’s just enjoy for now.” The music was wonderful, I was held by two hands and had a rather attractive man behind me. It was going to be interesting to see where this all would end.
“Take off your shirt.” My reply was as if I had just pushed the buzzer on Jeopardy. “I don’t dance with my shirt off.” I felt his breath by my ear “But I would enjoy it.” His hands left their posts and moved to the front and began to pull off my shirt. I didn’t bother protesting. “Much better . . . Now, I’m going to play - just enjoy.”
I have no idea what was being played during that time, who else was there - or if I had somehow wandered into a gay version of the Twilight Zone. I was moving to the rhythm of the man behind me. His fingers moved, explored and gently moved up and down. I know that my skin several times began to get goose bumps, but not from the cold. My breathing rate had certainly changed, and yet - I felt amazingly comfortable, quiet, horny and enveloped all at the same time. He had obviously unbuttoned his shirt as he leaned into my back and put his head on my shoulder. The fingers continued to explore, move and even “tweak.” But nothing went below the belt and when I would reach around I didn’t either (which would obviously limit my reaching around).
He began to speak very softly into my ear - just loud enough to be heard over the music, but soft enough to be very sensual.
If I hadn’t been so caught up in the sensuality of it all, I probably would have cried. Now remember, this is someone I had met a couple of hours before (gotta LOVE bartenders’ shift change) and who had no idea what I had been going through.
What was actually said is unimportant. What was delivered is what was important. The talk reached deep inside and reaffirmed me . . . my worth, my sensuality, my sexuality and my very being.
It was a wildly erotic and sensual time. He finally turned me around and we kissed. I was about ready to melt. He stepped back, gently kissed me again, put his finger in that delightful way some men have on my lips.
“I need to leave, but hopefully we will meet again.” Another deep kiss - and he left. I slowly put my shirt back on - put my life back on. I made my way home and as I was laying in bed . . . the wonder and the power of it all swept over and over me.
Heaven burned down and has been replaced by a much larger, more elegant dance club.
Pacific Street has since changed owners and names several times.