The Bittersweet Almost

John Bato, 2018



Hey Frank, it's Jay. How you doing?


Jay -- the name that instantly brought a deluge of memories. Calm down, Frank. Don't you dare type a reply in a horny haste. Take a breath or two. See what he wants.


Hey Jay. I'm fine. You?

Doing okay. Was wondering
if you had time to meet?



Breathe, bad boy. Breathe.


Oh. You're back in the city?

Yeah. Attending a conference. At the Midtown Hilton.

Wanna grab a coffee? Our old shop south of St Patrick's?



Ummm. You mean the place where we met and you later dumped me for your new boyfriend and a new life in San Francisco? Not a chance in hell.


When, this afternoon? Have to meet
a client by
Columbus Circle.

Was thinking after work. How about
Therapy then, for old times' sake?

Therapy's fine.

* * *


Two years earlier, Frank was shocked to open his email to find an invite from the guy he'd been flirting with for months. Then, one pivotal message contained one word but conveyed a promise of more:




After independently answering each others' (blind) personal ads followed by four months of email flirting, the tall, blond, the Nordic Adonis wet dream finally wanted to meet. Frank typed a quick response.


Sure. When & where?


The next day, Frank found himself walking down Madison Avenue twenty minutes before their afternoon date. He snuck into Starbucks and claimed a table toward the back before ordering his caramel macchiato.


"Add a grande latte with hazelnut to that," came a booming voice from behind him, "and put it from this card."


Frank turned around to a stunning vision a 6'4" blond Adonis in a charcoal gray (Brooks Brothers?) suit. Meanwhile, the cashier just carried on.

"Your name for the order, please?"




"Thank you. Your drinks will be to the right."


Shortly after Frank turned to the pickup counter, he felt a hand applying the slightest pressure on the small of his back. Two steps later he turned again and found himself staring into a pair of sapphire blue eyes. "Hi. Nice to finally meet."


"Definitely. So you work around here?"


"Venti cappuccino for Roxanne."


Knowing full well that it wasn't his order, Frank turned his head to the barista. Directing his attention back at his date, he took a beat or two gazing up the towering sight, admiring the full chest (44" perhaps?) barely contained by the cotton button-down. "Self-employed work from home. You?"


"My office is by Times Square. Just finished a lunch meeting a few blocks down."


"Productive, I hope."


"We'll see. Potential advertiser who wants to work with our network."


"How long does it usually take to close a first deal?"


"With this one, it's been two and a half weeks, maybe, over email. We got a soft yes and now have to go thru legal to iron out the kinks."


"So you can close a deal within a month, eh? Was beginning to wonder if our emails were gonna be just a game of tag."


Jay grinned. "Sorry about that. As you know it's May sweeps. Had a lot going on."


"It's fine. The end-game was to meet up, right? Well... here we are now."


Returning to the reserved table, Frank couldn't help but stare at this Nordic god from different angles who looked infinitely better in real life. The pictures he received via email didn't do justice to the man. He gave himself a mental headshake and turned his attention back to the conversation.


"Well, that's me. Big corporate boss man that wants to let it all go at home."


He consciously matched the decrease in his date's volume and, hopefully, playful tone. "So that's your angle, eh? Work drains you of the energy and you recharge at night by letting a lover take over the decisions? I get it. When I used to manage a large office, many times I'd go home and just wished there was someone else making the decisions for me..." He took a beat and lowered his voice even further gave him an excuse to lean forward. "So what would those decisions include?"


With a smirk, Jay matched the lean. "After two months of getting to know each other via email, I think you know me enough that I can leave that answer to you."


Suffice it to say for the rest of the date, conversation remained more playful than salacious, yet Frank had a boner that wouldn't quit.


They split ways, arranging to meet at Jay's apartment for the "continuation" of their first date. He knocked on the door. As discussed, the door pushed open and he stepped in to the mostly dark apartment.


Following the trail of dim lights, he took the second left from the hallway. He pushed the half-open door and found Jay blindfolded, at the edge of the bed, and on all fours.


"That's a good sub."


"Yes, Sir. I serve your pleasure, Sir."

Frank took a moment to admire the seductive curves: Jay's arched back only emphasized his rounded, full buttocks. As he stepped closer, Frank reached under and cupped Jay's chest.

"YEEES, Sir. Thank you."

Frank's fingertips encountered a crisp, heavily starched oxford shirt; he could only imagine the effect it was having on Jay's nipples.

"Please don't stop, Sir."

Frank stepped back to reassess. They had discussed many of these scenarios, true. He was just taken aback with how many Jay was wanting to bundle together in this, their first evening.




The undertones of longing and urgency (and to be truthful a hint of desperation) made for a perfect storm in Frank's primal brain. Stepping forward, he responded, "I don't intend to just yet."


Frank flicked the covered nipple. His left hand, meanwhile, cupped and followed the contoured ass. Eventually, he encountered a dip in the stitch. With a little pressure, the seam burst open almost on its own loud accord.


A pair of red designer trunks was now on display.


"Sir? No!"


"Shut your trap! If you really meant that, you wouldn't have teased me with your pants half-opened presenting me with your goodies."


"Yes Sir!" came the meek reply.


Frank looked up to see Jay turning his head toward him, despite being blindfolded by a necktie. Frank reached and loosened the tie just a slight bit before pulling it down to cover his "captive's" mouth. "Stay still until commanded otherwise."


Reduced to whimpers and moans, Jay nodded his assent and watched his now master cross the room.


Frank returned to the bed, having grabbed another tie in the process. He did a quick half-Windsor before covering Jay's eyes again. "Lovely as those baby blues are, let's not have you show them just yet."


"Now face your horny mug forward."


Frank's fingers reached and explored Jay's ass, noting where the cloth had thinned out just slightly. Letting go of the tie, he then continued the reveal, forcefully ripping the red trunks.


"Yeah, I could go for a serving of man-ass. Thanks for dessert."


* * *


The noise and smell of dark coffee being ground woke Frank from his reverie.


6:00. Thirty minutes to go. He had better leave (yet another Starbucks) and head toward the bar.







Thank you for reading this story. Stay tuned for Chapter 2.


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