A drop of sweat ran down the side of Paul's face. He wiped it away with the back of his hand at stared at the two strangers in front of him, flirting away on the other side of the bar. They looked young, maybe about 25 - and were obviously undressing each other with their eyes.
Wasn't that sweet? He'd probably sigh and reminisce about his own teenage years, if it wasn't for the uncomfortably damp atmosphere of The ManHole and the pot-bellied trucker staring at him with hungry eyes from a dark corner across the room. Paul clenched his jaw muscles and looked down at the beer tap in front of him. Time to flash his commitment ring again, he thought to himself and flexed his finger, the small metal glinting dimly in the muffled light of his counter.
The ManHole. What a dump. Should have been named 'ManHole No. 734'. Paul was sure he had come across lots of gay bars with that name during his time in Cali. Seeing one in Arkansas, deep in the Bible Belt was something else, though. He wouldn't have expected it back when he got here with Jason to escape the Plague. Damn, was that only three years ago? Seemed like a lifetime.
Oh well, life had other ideas. And here he was, serving beer and California style cocktails to closeted middle class husbands and eager, inexperienced students, who were out, but not as proud as Paul had seem them back in L.A. Anyway, it was quite an explosive combination sometimes. More often than not he had to settle a dispute between an older guy and his young lover, just because daddy didn't want to leave his wife and elope with Boy Toy.
He shook his head slightly and took a clean cloth to wipe the surface of the bar, removing crumbs of peanuts. Someone sat down on the stool before him.
"Vodka, double."
Paul took a brief look at the newcomer. He was handsome for sure. Slipping out of his leather jacket, the guy revealed a bulging biceps underneath a skin-tight muscle shirt, clearly intending to find a hook-up for the night. Paul's ringed finger started to itch, as usual, reminding him that he was too old to be playing this game with the youngsters. He took a bottle and started pouring the drink.
"Vodka, it is.", he said and placed the glass on the counter. Gosh, the guy had blue eyes. Not blue, like the sky, but rather like a field of ice on a sunny winter's day. Paul would have laughed about this corny mental image, but his mind was elsewhere, staring at the man's chest. A flash of light had caught his eye.
"Thanks." The guy took a sip, gulping down the alcohol as if it were water and caught Paul's stare, squinting his eyes angrily - probably the result of having had too much alcohol before even entering the door.
"What are ya staring at?", he growled.
"Why so serious, soldier? Let me guess, an Army man?" Paul winked at the silver ID tag that hung on a chain around the guy's neck.
"Is that your come on line?" Paul was glad he got a smile from that handsome face. The man's eyes lingered on his for a second too long. Who was he kidding? This was a gay bar. Of course people hit on the bartender.
"Nah. Just me being curious." Paul flashed a friendly smile at him, but the guy's eyes dropped on the counter.
"Ain't none of your damn business. Any chance you wanna have some fun tonight? It's not exactly crowded in here."
Ouch, that hurt. Paul liked the guy, but didn't want to be a stand-in for a potentially better hook-up who just wasn't here tonight. Even though this particular guy sure had something pleasurably familiar on him, Paul lifted his hand and watched the guy's face fall, when he saw the golden ring glinting on his finger. He couldn't help but notice the smile on the two youngsters nearby watching the scene unfold before them.
"Sorry, dude, but I'm faithful to my man." Paul flashed his most charming smile. He knew people usually didn't get mad at him that way. Not so Wonderboy, though.
"Suit yourself!" He pushed the empty glass over the smooth surface of the counter and watched as Paul had to drop his hand to catch it before it fell of the edge. He left the bar and staggered across the room.
"Why don't you go home, son? Maybe another night you'll come sober and get lucky." Paul tried to speak quietly, but he was sure everyone in the room had heard him. Handsome just raised his middle finger.
"Fuck off!"
Fine. Another one biting the bullet. Just what Paul needed tonight.
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