I was out running errands today and ran across Jordan when I stopped at a light near the Horseshoe Casino in Baltimore.
Jordan, a slight, young black man with a pecan complexion, was pacing back and forth at the intersection of Russell Street as if he was waiting for a cab or Uber.
Several times he made eye contact with me. Then he crossed the street in front of me and I thought he moved on. But then I heard a knock on my passenger side window. It was him.
I rolled down the glass. Cold air rushed in.
“Are we near the Inner Harbor,” he asked.
“Yes, it’s about a mile away — that way,” I said, pointing to the north.
“Look I need a ride. Can I pay you $10 to take me over there.”
It was the opposite way I had to go to drop my car off at the shop for a repair. But he seemed like a nice kid and he was so small I could easily whip his ass if he got frisky.
“Okay, I’ll give you a ride but don’t come in here and try any shit. And I don’t need your $10.”
“Aww, cool,” he said, laughing.
During the ride he explained his situation. He was 25 years old and from Minneapolis and had been living in Baltimore only a year but loved it. He had been gambling at the casino and lost some money and was ready to go home.
But for some reason he didn’t have a ride (I never got a clear answer) and his girl was mad at him because she found out he was still fucking his ex-girlfriend. In fact, the ex-girlfriend had sent his current girl some compromising photos showing she had screwed him at their place.
“Jordan, man you are going to have to pick which one you want,” I said. “You can’t play two women like that.”
“Or maybe if you are open and honest with them they may be willing to share you — you know some women are doing that now,” I said jokingly.
“Well, they both mean so much to me,” he said, a frown darkening his handsome face. “I would hate to give up either one.”
He was silent awhile.
“Well you know I’m bisexual too.”
I had gotten a gay vibe from him from the way he looked me in the eye. And from the corner of my eye I think I saw him rubbing his crotch and side eyeing me.
So I didn’t miss a beat. “Well, I’m gay but I was married to a woman and I understand.”
“Oh, okay, thanks,” he said.
“How long you been doing dudes,” I ventured.
“About a year,” he said. “I just find them so much easier than dealing with women, especially them two I got.”
I didn’t say anything. I knew that wasn’t necessarily true.
“Hey can I have your number,” Jordan asked.
I wrote my number down on a piece of paper as I dropped him off at the corner of Pratt and Light Street.
“I’m going to text you right away so I can keep up with you,” he said.
The thought of my partner “Van” and I turning out this handsome, tender young chicken was appealing. My dick was already getting hard.
However, deep down inside I knew he wasn’t going to text — there are prostitutes and hustlers hanging around the casino and he probably thought I was an easy mark that didn’t pan out.
And he didn’t.