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| Oliver |
I smiled. My best friend Susan had dragged me to Metro, one of the largest gay nightclubs in Indianapolis. I hadn’t been to Metro in a long time. Then again, I hadn’t gone clubbing in ages, so that made sense. At the age of 32, I was at that point in my life where I was slowly getting over my wild nightlife days.
Susan had insisted I go out, and she had been right in that I was having a good time. Not so long ago I would have been the life of the dancefloor, now I was just hanging out at the bar and talking to my best friend. Maybe I could be convinced to dance after a few more drinks, but until now I was having a good time as it was. However, it was hard to deny that my clubbing experience had changed.
I looked at the dancefloor, filled to the brim with people. The electronic dance music blasted from the speakers. I remember when I was in my early 20s, and I took about an hour to prepare my look, almost expecting to meet someone and go home with them. I went with friends, who all did the same. Now I went out with just one friend, enjoyed the buzz of other people in the background and the music, but we were mainly focused on each other, catching up on the other’s busy life.
I turned back to Susan and my drink.
“OK, don’t look right away, but there’s a hot guy checking you out”, she suddenly said.
I looked at her, doubting her. Who would look at me? In here? It was the 25 year-olds that were stealing the show, I was just here at the corner of the bar in a simple black T-shirt. She caught my look, and said, “No really! High table, other end of the bar, green T-shirt.”
I raised my eyebrows and waited for her to give me the non-verbal go-ahead. With a single nod from Susan, I pretended I had to scratch the back of my neck so I could angle my head to see this supposed hot guy.
There were two guys at the high table she had described. One was tall and lanky, just over six feet (183cm), African American, gesturing dramatically while talking. He wore a ripped black tanktop and black trousers. His head was shaven bald on the sides of his head, leaving his black hair on the top of his head standing up straight, which must have taken quite some hairspray. The Caucasian guy he was talking to was definitely shorter, about 5’8’’, 5’9’’ (about 174cm) but built. His short, dark blond hair was simply styled. The green t-shirt he wore stretched across his muscular chest and its sleeves were tested by his muscular arms. He wore a light blue pair of jeans, that hugged his large thighs tightly. I was already looking forward to seeing his ass. He stood still, smiling slightly, intently listening to the other guy, his hand slowly stirring his clear drink with a straw. The two guys couldn’t be any more different on first view.
“Wait, the guy in green?”
“Yeah!”
“Shut up!”
“Trust me, Ray. I know how much you like muscle-y white guys, I wouldn’t joke around about this.”
I laughed.
“Busted.”
“It is a sign that you watch too much porn though.”
I had to give her another one of my looks. She smiled.
“Do you think they’re together?”, she asked me.
“Like, a couple? No, would surprise me. The vibe I am getting is more, say, gay guy brings straight friend to gay club for the first time.”
“Oh, come on! Just because he’s not as feminine as the other guy, doesn’t mean he’s straight. And I saw him looking at you, I could tell he’s into you.”
I’ll believe it when I see it, I thought.
“So, are you going to go over and introduce yourself?”
“What, me?”
“You like him, right?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“Oh, hold on.”
I saw Susan’s eyes shift to the earlier mentioned high table.
“What?”
“They’re coming here.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Incoming!”
“How do I look?”
“Handsome as ever. Keep talking about whatever.”
“What do you mean?”
Suddenly Susan laughed out loud, grabbing my arm.
“Oh, wow, you’re so funny!”, she said.
The black guy all of a sudden stood next to me. It must have been for his benefit.
“Hi!”, he said cheerfully. “My name is Timothy. I saw you two sitting here and wanted to come up and introduce myself”, he said, holding out his hand for Susan.
“Nice to meet you”, Susan said, introducing herself.
“I’m Raymond”, I said as I shook his hand next.
“Susan, Raymond, so nice to meet you! This is my roommate Oliver”, he gestured to the hot guy who had appeared next to him. He fidgeted and shiftily looked at us before shaking our hand.
“Hi, nice to meet you both.”
“Wait, what’s that accent?”, Susan asked him before he had finished speaking.
He smiled and looked down.
“I’m British.”
He blushed. He quickly looked up at me and our eyes met. His eyes were a light brown and they just popped. His square jawline was such a turn-on, as was the dimple in his chin. His face was just perfect. He quickly looked back down. He came across so nervous, especially next to his confident roommate. I was starting to believe Susan was right. It was possible that he was into me, which was why he acted nervously, not because he was uncomfortable in these surroundings. It didn’t make sense to me that guys this hot would be nervous or insecure in any way, but I guess they were still human, even if they looked like half-gods.
“Would you like something to drink, maybe?”, Oliver then asked politely.
“Sure!”, I said, “I’ll have another beer.”
“How about some tequila shots?”, he asked me.
For the first time, a smile stretched across his face. He was beautiful. And I loved how he said the word ‘shots’ with his accent. The crush just may be mutual.
“Come on, Ray! Let’s do shots!”, Susan cheered me on.
I laughed.
“All right, all right”, I gave in.
Oliver left to order the shots and Timothy immediately came to stand next to me.
“OK, here’s the deal. Olly is incredibly shy around guys he thinks are hot. But he is really into you. He is now going to drink, hoping to be more confident. He hardly ever drinks, so he will get drunk quickly and make a fool out of himself. So please forgive him. Just remember that he likes you a lot, otherwise he wouldn’t do this.”
“Olly?”, I asked.
“Yeah, friends call him Olly.”
I chuckled.
“But you got me, right?”
“Got you”, I said.
Timothy came across a bit dominant, but I still liked how he was trying to help his friend. And Susan was officially right. Again. I felt more than flattered to get attention from a guy like this. Though I had to wonder exactly what was about to happen now that “Olly” was going to start drinking.
Oliver soon came back from the bar and gave us the tequila-filled shot glasses with a slice of lemon on top. Then he came back with the salt shaker. It didn’t exactly seem like Oliver’s first time doing tequila, but I was believing Timothy on his word. After the shots, Oliver had also ordered four beers, which he handed around. Susan and Timothy continued chatting, leaving Oliver and I to each other.
“So, what do you do?”, I asked him the most neutral question I could think of.
“I am a railway mechanic for Amtrak”, he answered. “You?”
“I am a translator and interpreter. Spanish.”
He nodded and smiled. He seemed afraid to look me in the eyes as he took a big gulp of beer. The fact that Oliver had a blue-collar job somehow made him more attractive. Susan would say it’s because of all the porn I watch.
Oliver and I had a conversation that went smoother as time went on. He became looser, laughing at my jokes and even touching my shoulder at one point. He asked me how long I had lived in Indy. In the meantime, guys kept coming up to Timothy to say hi. He seemed quite popular.
“This always happens when we go anywhere gay”, Oliver said.
It didn’t take long before Timothy was taken away by some of his friends.
“I’ll see you back at the house”, I overheard him tell Oliver. “Have fun, you two”, he then said.
After that, I tried to involve Susan into the conversation and the three of us chatted for a while. Oliver wanted to know how we met, and then asked if Susan had seen anyone she liked.
“Oh, I’m straight”, she said. “And married.” She showed her ring.
“Wow, that’s a nice ring”, Oliver laughed.
“I just take my bestie to clubs sometimes so that he gets off the sofa every now and then.”
Oliver laughed and touched my shoulder a second time.
“Another drink?”, Oliver asked.
He was really drinking fast.
“No, I’m good”, I said. My glass was still half-full.
“I’ve had enough for a while”, Susan said.
Oliver went back to the bar. Susan said she was about done for the night.
“Are you going to be OK with him?”
“I like him”, I admitted.
“Good. Enjoy, babe.”
Oliver returned with a new beer. Susan quickly said goodbye to him, leaving us alone.
I asked him how he ended up in Indianapolis himself.
“Do you ever have that feeling of wanting to start over after something bad happens? Moving somewhere new and just leave all the shite behind?”
I loved the way he said ‘shite’.
“Oh, absolutely! I just never have the guts.”
He laughed.
“Exactly. Well, I was in a relationship, back in London. For eight years. Unfortunately, I found out she cheated on me. And I just had to leave. I couldn’t stay, for some reason.”
Oliver was starting to speak unnecessarily loudly, at times slurring his words.
“She? You’re bi?”
“Yeah, I’m bi.”
“Continue. Why Indy?”
“Well, to be quite honest… Timothy is more than a roommate.”
“In what way?”
“We’re related.”
I laughed.
“You scared me for a second there.”
He laughed loudly, pushing my chest.
“No, not like that mate! We’re cousins! I could never! My Dad’s sister is his Mum.”
“Got it.”
“So, when I heard he had a spare room, I asked if it was OK if I moved in for a year, just to get away. And that was 3 months ago.”
“Wow. And you already got a job and everything!”
“I landed on my feet, didn’t I?”
Just then, a new song came on and Oliver grabbed my hand.
“Let’s dance”, he said.
I was just about intoxicated enough to dance as he led me to the dancefloor. I finally was able to check out his ass. His large buttocks moving up and down in his tight blue jeans, immediately got me hard. This was the most perfect butt I had seen in a while. Once we got to the dancefloor, I was pulling out all my moves. I immediately noticed Oliver wasn’t a very good dancer. His big body wasn’t very flexible and he barely had rhythm. Above all, he was more than a little tipsy, which made him uncoordinated.
Oliver soon started to sweat and at one point even slipped so he almost fell. I decided it was time for us to call it a night. I walked him outside. Although it had been a nice and toasty 84 degrees (29 Celsius) during the day, it had now cooled down to a rainy 61 (16 Celsius). Neither of us had brought a jacket. I quickly ordered an Uber. Oliver was also on his phone.
“Whereabouts do you live?”, I asked.
“Near Eastside”, he replied, not looking up from his phone.
“Oh, I just ordered an Uber to South Village.”
Silence.
“Tim brought someone to the apartment”, he sighed.
More silence.
“Sorry, what did you say?”, Oliver now looked up and looked at me. He surprised himself with the sudden movement, wobbly on his feet.
“Are you sure you’re going to be OK by yourself?”, I asked.
“Huh?”
He dropped his phone on the sidewalk.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell, mate, I am such a dumbfuck!”, he exclaimed loudly.
I laughed. As he tried to pick up his phone from the ground he fell over face first.
“Oh no!”, I said, but I was too far away to catch him.
“Are you all right?”, I asked.
Oliver was on the sidewalk, rolling onto his side, laughing. He had some dirt on the side of his face, but just couldn’t stop laughing.
“Mate!”, he started, but he couldn’t finish, he was laughing so hard.
I held his arm and tried to pull him up.
“I ripped my jeans”, he managed to blurt out, still laughing as I managed to get him to stand.
“OK, you’re coming home with me”, I concluded.
He still leaned on me, finding his balance, as I wiped the dirt of his face. He stopped laughing pretty much instantly. We locked eyes and I could feel a kiss coming, but at that moment the Uber stopped right in front of us.
In the Uber, Oliver was still smiley, at times giggly, but more calm. His eyes were a bit shifty and his speech was still slurred. He took my hand and put it in his lap. He tried to look at me and only focus on me, but I could tell he was distracted by the lit-up streets out the window next to me. There was something romantic about us sitting like this, in the backseat.
“Thanks for looking after me, I am so pissed,” he said.
I was confused.
“Why?”
“So drunk, I mean. Pissed means drunk back home”, he explained. He looked down.
“Oh bloody hell, look!”
Oliver let go of my hand, turned toward me and opened his legs. The seat of his jeans had split open. He was not wearing underwear. I saw the bottom part of two, smooth, surprisingly tanned butt-cheeks as well as a hairless taint. He showed the rip to me like there was no sexual charge to it. I was immediately incredibly turned on. I hid my hard-on and didn’t say anything. I just giggled.
It was a 15 minute drive, and Oliver slowly got quieter.
“I’m knackered”, he said.
He put his head on my shoulder. It was a nice feeling. I closed my eyes.
“I had fun though”, he mumbled.
“It was nice to meet you”, he suddenly said, lifting his head. I opened my eyes and Oliver was looking right at me. Our faces were really close together. His eyes were like magic. It was almost like they sparkled, suddenly focusing on me, and just me. I kissed him. The kiss was wet, a bit sloppy, but passionate. I put a hand on his face, which was smooth and soft. I could smell a combination of cologne and musky man-sweat. I felt comfortable with him. It felt like his face just belonged in my hands. Even though I had only just met Oliver, and didn’t know much about him, something about this felt right.
I broke the kiss, because I wanted to look at him. My thumb softly caressed his beautiful lips. His eyes were now half open as he looked at me, like he was overcome with passion and pleasure.
“Oh, we’re nearly here”, I noticed.
Oliver sat up.
I thanked the driver as he pulled up to my building. Oliver seemed wobbly, but was actually fine by himself. I let him into my apartment. As I closed the door, he was immediately there to hug me.
“Thanks for letting me crash here. Should I sleep on the sofa?”
He let go of the hug and took off his shoes.
“No, that’s OK, I have a big bed”, I said.
“Are you sure? That’s so nice!”
Oliver talked to me while he continued undressing himself, now taking off the T-shirt. He had a large back tattoo. His wide shoulders were so muscular.
“I just don’t think I’m up for any hanky panky though, is that OK?”, he said as he undid his jeans. I stood by the door, still, frozen, watching him from behind. “Because I think I’m about to pass out.”
He lowered the jeans and the largest, roundest pair of butt cheeks I had ever seen came into view. His entire body was so smooth, I couldn’t wait to touch it. His jeans fell to the floor with a thud, obviously because they contained his cellphone.
He turned around. He even had shaved his pubes. Every inch of his body looked like it would be heavenly soft to the touch. His chest and abs were pronounced and defined. His uncut cock hung down, thick, heavy, flaccid, about 4 inches. It looked juicy. I looked up at his face and he looked right at me.
“So, where’s the bedroom?”
He acted like his nudity was no big deal, but this was the most attractive man I had ever had in my apartment. It was odd how shy he had been when we met, yet seemed to have no shame about showing his body. And to be fair, why would he? He was pretty much the perfect specimen.
I walked toward the bedroom door, opened it, and walked in. I showed Oliver the bed.
“That looks like the most comfortable bed”, he said, already walking toward it. When he passed I squeezed his butt and it was everything I had hoped for.
“Your ass is incredibly sexy”, I said.
He laid on the bed face down, on top of the covers.
“Yeah, you like my arse? You want to ram your cock up my arse, don’t you?”
His speech slowed down as he lay on his stomach and closed his eyes.
“So deep that it’ll make me cum…”, he almost whispered.
His perfect body just lay in front of me. His ass up in the air, one leg pulled up. I could see his balls between his legs. His breathing became audible. He had fallen asleep. I couldn’t believe my luck that I had this hunk of a man in my bed.
I started getting undressed myself and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I saw Oliver’s clothes spread around the living room. I picked up his jeans and put them on the sofa. The rip was substantial, but with the legs kept together he could get away with it for his journey home. The jeans felt heavy, so I took out his phone. The screen was cracked in one corner. I put it on the dining room table. I went to brush my teeth and came back. I heard a whistle. It was a notification on Oliver’s phone. I decided that was going to annoy me and keep me from falling asleep. I checked to see if I could switch the sound off, but it needed a fingerprint. I smiled.
I walked back to the bedroom with the phone. Oliver was sound asleep. I put his right hand index finger on the phone. It worked. I turned off the sound. I saw the Facebook icon on his homepage, and without even thinking twice, I opened it. I typed my own name into the search bar. Raymond Agustin, three mutual friends. They were all guys from Indy gay scene. I sent a friend request to myself. I put the phone on the night-stand and happily fell asleep.
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