Randy Ohara stood near the door of the bar area of the nightclub in the city’s Chelsea section and watched as the roadies placed equipment on the stage in the main room for the live band scheduled to begin their set at nine. He hadn’t been to this club in ages but the place hadn’t changed all that much.
The background music was still loud, the crowd tonight mostly goth kids drawn by the heavy metal Japanese band making a rare US appearance. At thirty-four Randy felt pretty old compared to the knot of teenagers streaming toward the stage but there were enough parents scattered throughout the crowd to make him feel not quite so out of place. He didn’t know the band and didn’t understand a word of Japanese despite his family’s heritage. But he’d seen the crowd lined up around the block, excitedly filing into the club, and thought what the hell, he’d give it a go.
Housed in a former church, The Resurrection was perpetually grungy with its entrance on busy Sixth Avenue. The expansive central portion of the building sported a high vaulted ceiling above a dimly lit balcony area with the wooden stage taking up the portion where the original alter would have been. The bar area was opposite and separated from the entrance by the walls added after the church’s conversion. There were a few dozen adults here, either waiting for
their kids to watch the show or perhaps like him, just bored and looking for something to do.
Lonely, Randy. You’re lonely.
Randy sipped his beer, wishing his inner voice or conscience or whatever the hell you called it was a bug like Jiminy Cricket that he could flick off and step on. Still he couldn’t deny that the inner voice was right. He really needed to stop angsting over losing Harry and get into the dating game. But shit he felt so weird. He’d been with Harry since their senior year of high school. He
hadn’t ever really dated and with the disease thing he was nearly scared shitless to try. He and Harry had been each other’s first.
Finishing his beer, Randy took the empty bottle back to the bar and asked if the men’s room was still where he remembered it to be. Finding that it was, Randy stepped out to the main area and made his way along the wall and past the throng of chattering kids. Out in the central corridor he had to pause repeatedly as he stepped past and around those entering or crowding the merchandise table set up to sell the band’s CDs and T-shirts.
A drop-dead gorgeous Asian guy dressed in a white silk shirt and leather pants exited through a narrow door marked “No Admittance” and disappeared into the crowd. The sexy Asian took Randy’s breath away and as he craned his neck to see where the man went, he smacked into someone.
The guy turned and scowled. “Watch it, buddy.”
“Sorry, someone bumped me.”
This man—also Asian, also gorgeous—rolled his eyes and turned back to the woman he was with as Randy stepped past him. Randy’s pulse quickened when he heard the guy say “Grab me a beer, I’m hitting the restroom first”.
Yeah, Randy was lonely these days and tonight he was feeling awfully horny for some reason. Inside the restroom the four urinals and three stalls were all in use. Randy stepped away from the door and stood by the first of three sinks to wait his turn. The guy he’d bumped into outside entered and Randy motioned for him to go first and take a urinal when it became available.
“You can have it. I need to take a dump,” the guy said with typical New York candor.
Randy caught himself feeling disappointed as he headed for the urinal. He wouldn’t have minded taking a look at the man’s package just to see if it was as promising as the rest of the guy. The guy’s leather jacket did nothing to mask the broad shoulders underneath while those form-fitting jeans hugged the man’s tight rear and emphasized the rounded bulge of his cock at the front.
Shit, I am horny, Randy thought with a shake his head.
After taking care of his business Randy headed back to the bar. Before he reached the crowded alcove he saw the woman the guy from the restroom had been with. She was talking to a girl who must have been about fourteen or so and who reminded him of his younger sister. In fact the girl’s obvious attitude really reminded him of Emmi. It was hard to believe that she was twenty-six now and getting married in a couple days.
Getting another beer, Randy stood near the door again, his gaze wandering again to the woman and girl and the guy who joined them. The guy gave the teenager a stern look and the attitude seemed to slip right out of her. She nodded yes then scurried off to join some friends as the houselights dimmed in preparation of the band’s appearance on stage.
The guy and his wife approached the entrance to the bar and Randy nodded a greeting as they passed. The guy did likewise and Randy felt the weight of that stare like none before. Damn the guy was hot. Older, somewhere in his forties maybe, and he carried himself with such an air of authority that Randy couldn’t help but be impressed. It didn’t help that the stranger reminded him a little of Jet Li in fact. Randy regretted the comparison when the thought sent his blood rushing between his legs. His cock pushing up against the fly of his pants, Randy slipped off his own jacket and held it in front to conceal the hard-on. He glanced back into the bar and watched the guy take a bottle of beer and a mixed drink to a small table on the left side of the bar area.
With a sigh, Randy forced himself to focus on his own bottle of beer before he needed another run to the bathroom to jerk himself off.
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