Date: Tue, 4 Aug 2009 19:18:27 -0500
From: John Lee <borotn@gmail.com>
Subject: James part 1

I posted this story about 9 years ago on Nifty with a different email;
recently I had the opportunity and desire to go back and rewrite some of
the earlier parts to make them more in tune with the later parts.  I hope
that you all enjoy it (again)!

Comments and assorted thoughts can be directed to BoroTN@Gmail.com


Part I

	I have had the pleasure of knowing and being with some of the most
beautiful men in the world (in my humble opinion).  Tall men, short men,
slender men, muscle men, smooth men, and hairy men.  Quite a feat for
someone who only fully came out of the closet his last year of college.  I
had been aware that I was gay since high school, and had a lot of
"playtime" in the following years.  Yes, I admit it, I have a rather slutty
past.  But hey, who doesn't in this day and age?  But, with all men in the
world, there is always one man; the one man who makes all others pale in
comparison.  That man, for me, was James Patterson Kennedy.
	James and I met at a gay club in the city where I was in grad
school.  I had been dragged there by Barry, one of my best friends, and
Matt, another of my best friends who happened to be my roommate, and
straight as an arrow.  Matt was probably the most secure-in-his-sexuality
heterosexual I have ever met.  He had a beautiful girlfriend and had no
qualms about going with his roomie to a gay bar.
	Anyway, I had been in a dark mood for several weeks.  My history
with men in general is mixed.  If you just count relationships and no sex,
it was dismally pitiful.  While I had no problem getting men in the sack, I
could never seem to find the right guy for a relationship.  As was my
pattern, I blamed myself by saying it was my looks, that I wasn't funny
enough, or whatever the excuse du jour was.  My latest fling had blown up
in my face spectacularly several weeks ago.  Actually, he really did blow
spectacularly as some guy was fucking him.  I walked in on them just when
my ex hit his orgasm.
	I brooded and moped and was basically a raging bastard, and then
Matt pretty much forced me into the shower for no reason.  When he came
out, there was Barry with an outfit all picked out.  "Wear this and don't
even think about arguing.  I'm tired of this shit."  I knew better than to
argue with him, so I put on the clothes and followed Matt and him out to
the car.
	Barry's lover Todd owned this combo bar and grill that was a very
popular gay hangout.  On occasional nights, Todd would give in and allow
shows to be put on.  Sometimes there were comedians, sometimes singers, and
even the occasional drag show.  I usually didn't get into those, but
sometimes they were downright hysterical.  This was a night when Todd had
just a pianist scheduled, so the lights were down low and the bar had a
soft buzz to it.
	When we walked in, I headed straight for a table in the back
corner.  I had been frequenting this table for the weeks since my breakup
so I wouldn't have to be out actually meeting people.  Barry had rolled his
eyes but let me go.  For a second, I was suspicious; he let me go far too
easily.  But then I sat down and lost myself in my self-pity.  Matt was
kind enough to buy me a drink before he went back to the bar to talk to
Todd and Barry.
	Every now and then some guy would come around and give me the eye,
offer to buy me a drink, or try to cozy up to me.  Each time I would shoot
them down with my most menacing glance.  Sometimes a friend would stop by
and I would just say I wanted to be alone.  I could see Barry looking at me
in a disapproving way, but fuck him, I thought.  He dragged me out here,
fine.  He can't make me have a good time though.
	I ended up downing five screwdrivers in the next hour.  In my haze
of alcohol, my brooding mood deepened.  I continually asked myself what was
wrong with me.  I was slipping into a good depression.  And the last thing
I needed, I thought with a venomous glance in Barry's general direction,
was a bunch of drunken and drugged up fags hitting on me.
	All of a sudden I began hearing a bunch of hoots and hollers by the
stage.  The piano player had taken a break and someone started up a song by
the Backstreet Boys.  I think it was them; I get all those damn boy bands
mixed up.  I just know I hate them.  The hoots grew louder, and the crowd
parted.  My attention was diverted from screwdriver number seven by a
dancing guy who was moving in my general direction.
	He was singing along with the song, but his voice was drowned out
by the hollering and the loud pounding music.  The music made my head
pound, and for a moment I looked back down into my drink as I ignored the
guy.  Then a movement in front of the table caught my eye again.  I looked
up.  He was dancing right in front of my table, singing, his eyes never
leaving mine.
	I could finally hear his voice, and it was wonderful.  A clear
baritone, not tenor or bass, but right in between.  It fit him perfectly.
I was pretty critical of singers, since I had sung in my high school chorus
and was pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.  I had a high bass voice,
and when I got going my pipes were clear and resonant.  I was also a pretty
good piano player, too.  My mother had made me take lessons, and after a
while I really enjoyed it.  Of course, nobody outside my family and closest
friends knew that.  I was big and bad, and had an image to keep up.
	The guy was moving with the music in a fluid way.  It was
effortless for him, and was extremely arousing to me.  The guy was six feet
or six-one, a little taller than my five-eleven.  He had a good tan and was
clean-shaven.  His blond hair was a little shaggy, but it suited him well.
As he moved his body, his hair moved around and even that was sexy.  He was
wearing a close-fitting, cream-colored sweater and some khaki cargo pants,
but they couldn't conceal what looked like a tight, lean body.  His pecs
swelled nicely along with broad shoulders and very nice arms.  I'm a sucker
for nice arms.  His most enticing feature, however, was his eyes.  They
were deep, chocolate brown.  Looking into them was like staring into a vat
of dark chocolate.
	The guy kept dancing getting closer and closer to me.  I was in
horny shock.  I looked into those Hershey eyes and I saw direct,
undisguised lust in them, and maybe some deeper interest.  The lust was
familiar, but the curiosity was even more attractive.  I found myself
wondering what had generated that in him.  I was also noticing how
painfully hard my dick was in my jeans.
	He shimmied his was lower and then he moved his face right next to
mine.  His lips were a half inch away from mine, and I ached to kiss those
pouting lips.  I could smell the faint scent of alcohol on his breath.  He
also had a scent of Calvin Klein's Obsession, cigarette smoke, and some
other scent I couldn't quite place.  It was that odd scent that seemed to
fill my nostrils the most, making every nerve cell in my body go on point.
It was like he was a magnet and I was a compass needle.  Then the guy stood
up and began gyrating his hips, causing the crowd to hoot even louder.
Before I could do anything, he had grabbed the base of his sweater and was
inching it off of his body.  This dude was doing a striptease!
	The crowd egged him on, and he fed on it.  Without breaking his eye
contact with me, he began to bare more of that magnificent body for me.  I
could only stare in shock as he pulled the sweater over his head to reveal
a well-defined torso, covered in a light sheen of sweat.  His muscles were
big, but not too big.  They were perfect on his body.  He dropped the
sweater on my head as he began gyrating again.  I inhaled deeply, smelling
his wonderful scent.  I still couldn't place the smell, but oh lord, just
that smell sent a lightning bolt right to my prick.
	All too soon for me, the sweater was lifted off my head.  I opened
my eyes to find that the guy was lowering his extremely sexy khaki-encased
ass onto my lap.  He rubbed it right against my bulging fly and started
wiggling.  By this time I was so turned on that I was sure I was about to
blow my load in my pants.  The guy turned his head and caught the horny
glaze over my eyes.  He just grinned this oh-so-sexy grin at me and stood
back up.
	He turned around and looked over his shoulder, giving me this
mischievous look, rather like the one my young niece gives me when she's
about to do something really bad.  Sure enough, the blond god was doing
just that.  Wiggling his fine little ass in my face, he pulled the
drawstring of his pants, to the delight of the crowd, not to mention my
cock.  He slowly lowered them off his body.  My God, he didn't have on any
underwear.  I moaned out loud, not caring who heard me.  He exposed an ass
that poems are written over.  Many men have wet dreams every night of their
lives dreaming about an ass like this one.  Tanned with no lines, firm,
looking very soft, but tight as hell.  Two perfect round globes.  I itched
to bury my face in them.
	He stopped lowering his pants right as the waist cleared his firm
butt, and left the waist up in the front.  The crowed booed a little when
he wouldn't go any further, but even this guy apparently had some
standards.  The song ended and the guy took a low bow, soaking up the
applause and obvious enjoyment of the crowd.  Some of them asked if he was
a performer, some wanted his phone number, but he just smiled and waved.  I
couldn't move.  I was a mass of firing nerves, stimulated to the point of
total shutdown.
	The guy fixed his clothing, and then he signaled up front to Todd.
Then he sat down in the chair right across from me and grinned again.  Oh
lord, that grin.  The devil himself must have drawn it on his body, because
it spoke of sin and lust-filled, sweaty nights that steal a man's soul
away.  I shook my head.  Wow.
	I came back to reality with the awareness that the fine young stud
was speaking to me.  "Are you okay?" he asked.  I just nodded, probably
looking like a zombie.  "So, what did you think?" he asked.
	All I could do was just look at him.  I didn't even breathe for
fear that I might bring myself off in my pants.  He waved a hand in front
of my face and his face became one of concern.  I looked into those Hershey
eyes and he grinned again.  "Why did you do that?" I rasped out of my
now-dry throat.
	He just flashed me that devil grin again.  "I've been watching
you," he said.  "Nobody should look as down as you, so I figured you might
enjoy a little show."
	I was incredibly flattered.  He had the most adorable accent.  Not
a strong Southern accent, but definitely somewhere in the area.  I tried to
place the accent but then, inexplicably, a sudden a spark of jealousy shot
in me.  I didn't know it at the time, but I had already emotionally begun
to stake my claim to this man.  "Do you do this for everybody who is having
a bad day?"
	He leaned back and laughed.  I couldn't help but laugh myself, his
was so infectious.  "Not at all, man.  In fact, this was the first time
I've ever done this as a way to break the ice with a guy I'm interested in.
What did you think?"
	I just looked at him, then I looked pointedly down at my straining
fly.  I didn't think Levi's made those buttons strong enough to resist this
kind of pressure.  He looked down, and his eyes got really big.  He looked
back up at me and broke into hysterics.  "Wow, I guess you liked it!"
	I just shook my head in utter disbelief at the whole situation and
took a long drink.  I looked down at my glass and then I felt a hand on my
left hand, the one not holding a drink.  I looked back into his eyes.  He
smiled.  "Hey man, I did that hoping you wouldn't be so down.  I'm not
going to allow you to be depressed in my presence."  With the last
statement, he stood up and pulled me up with him.  Wow, I thought.  I had
to outweigh him by quite a few pounds, yet he pulled me right up.  Either I
was drunker than I thought, or this kid was strong.
	"Come on," he said.  He threw a few bills down on the table and
before I knew it, we were outside the club.  He pulled out a cigarette and
offered me one.  I declined.  "Why are you smoking out here?  You could
have easily done it in there," I said, pointing at the door.
	He shrugged, inhaling deeply.  As he exhaled, he laughed.  "Sure I
could, but we're leaving, so I am smoking out here."
	I was dumbfounded yet again.  "Leaving?  Just where are we going?
Who are you?  Why do you think you can..."
	"Be quiet," he said as he looked in my eyes.  I was shocked into
silence.  I may be five-eleven, but when you look mean and are built like a
tank, nobody ever tells you to be quiet, but this kid had balls.  I just
looked at him.  He grinned at me again, sending lightning right back into
my crotch, "You know, I can tell just by looking at you that you think way
too much.  We're going to have to work on that," he said, waving for a cab.
Then he turned back to me.  "What's your name?" he asked.
	"Why do you want to know?" I asked.  Where that came from, I don't
know.  Temporary insanity, I guess.
	He just laughed again as the cab approached.  "If we're going to go
to your place, I should at least know your name.  Mine is James," he said,
opening the door.
	Now I was totally stunned.  I just stood there.  He started to get
in, but then he looked at me.  "What?" he asked.
	"This is fucked up, man," I sputtered.  "I don't even know you."
	He smiled.  Not the devil-may-care grin, but a warm, genuine smile.
"We're going to fix that now.  Hop in.  I'll need you, since I don't know
your address."
	For some reason that I still cannot explain, I got in the cab and
gave the driver my address.  I had no idea at the time what was going to
happen that night, much less in the future.  Some part of me was intrigued
enough to go.

End of Part I