So you know we were getting a lot of play. Shit, in Washington, D.C. you can get ass just walking down the street.
So whenever we go out, especially to gay spots, it is inevitable we run into somebody I banged out or somebody Morgan banged out. And every once in awhile somebody we both banged out.
Last Friday night was no exception. Some friends of ours were in from out of town so we decided to meet up at the Fireplace, probably one of the better known gay spots in the city. While our friends socialized Morgan and I sat up on the second-floor risers, watching the crowd. A handsome, beefy, dark-skinned guy glanced our way.
“Oh, I fucked him years ago,” Morgan said. “He was really hot back then, just 18. He had a lot of muscles. But he really has gained a lot of weight.”
The guy looked more keenly at Morgan and a look of recognition crossed his face.
I’m not usually the jealous type but a twinge of unease came over me. Plus I had been drinking vodkas with cranberry juice. Liquor makes me talkative and boisterous. Okay, let me be blunt. Liquor brings out the ghetto in me. And I wasn’t liking the look in dude’s face.
A few minutes later Morgan had to go to the bathroom. Wouldn’t you know fat ass got up and followed him into the bathroom.
One of the friends hanging out with us that evening was the Mentor, a 50-something black guy who has turned into one of my closest confidants. Morgan and the Mentor are also close in age and hit it off. So he socializes with us from time to time.
“Did you just see that motherfucker follow Morgan into the bathroom,” I said. “I need to go in there.”
Mentor looked at me sharply and his eyes crinkled up with laughter.
“Boy sit your black ass down and act like you have some sense,” he said. “Don’t make a scene negro.”
A few minutes later Morgan returned. Yes the guy had followed him into the bathroom and asked whether he remembered him. So Morgan had said yes and invited the guy to come over and meet me, his new lover.
“How many years ago did you fuck him,” I asked.
“Man that was like 15 years ago when I first came to D.C.”
I wasn’t buying it. Dude was acting like he was in heat. Like Morgan’s dick was still fresh in his mind. So I got sarcastic.
“That must have been some good dick for him to still be sweating you 15 years later,” I said, talking loudly over the music. “Are you sure it was that long ago.”
But that wasn’t the end of it. Big Boy came back out of the bathroom and sat at the end of the bar just 25 feet from us. And proceeded to stare at us from time to time. He never even came over and said hello.
We had a good time that night. One of my buddies got so drunk he started stripping by the bar bar. We made new friends and caught up with peeps we haven’t seen in awhile. And it was good to hang out with old friends like the Mentor.
Still, I think it would have been a better night if I had walked over to that bar stool and knocked that dude’s fat ass right off of it.