Gay Erotic Stories

I was still getting my bearings and not dwelling on what was being suggested. All I really heard was the part about the Chinese Buffet. Then I realized I’d not had anything but coffee at the office, and decided it sounded pretty good. “Okay, what time can you break free?” I asked.

“How about right now,” came the reply.

“Okay, I’ll meet you in the lobby.” (Geeze that had a familiar ring to it!) “You driving, or me?”

Rodrigo volunteered as the driver and we were up to our eyes in egg rolls in minutes. I found I was hungrier that I’d thought, and was busy shoveling down a hefty salad plate full of goodies.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Rodrigo observed.

“Yeah, I guess I was,” I agreed. Actually I really didn’t know what to say or how to start up a conversation.

“You sure you’re all right? You look kind of worn out.” He observed.

“Probably I guess, it’s been a strange morning at work.” I offered, and then catching another take on what he’d just said I shot back, “Damn right I’m tired, worn out. I wonder just who might have caused it?”

Rodrigo broke out into a wide shit-eating grin, “So it’s all MY fault.”

“I didn’t say that, but you’re the main cause of it,” I replied. Actually I wasn’t really sure if he WAS, but I certainly was going to hang it his way.

“I tried calling you last night,” Rodrigo said. I didn’t answer, but just looked at him, then he continued, “I guess I really DID tuck you out.”

“You mean “tucker” me out.”

‘Yeah, I say that.”

“When I finally hit the sack, I slept like a baby!” I truthfully stated.

Rodrigo seemed pleased, and set about satisfying his ever empty stomach. I couldn’t believe the quantity of stuff he was able to put away. It’s a wonder that the owners of the all you can eat Chinese Buffet didn’t come over and tell him “Yes, that’s all you can eat!” Heaven knows, the bus boy earned the tip we left him.

On the way back to the office, I again was silent for the most part, I was busy thinking what I’d say if Rodrigo wanted to get together after work. I didn’t like the idea of a lie, but I just couldn’t think of anything plausible. Fortunately, Rodrigo saved my sorry ass by saying that his cousin was visiting and he had to go to Miami and see him at his parents’ house.

I immediately assured him that that was just fine by me, that I’d really thought fondly of spending a quiet night at home, catching up on things. (Again this was in reality mostly a true statement.)

When I sat down in my office I noticed the message light on my phone was flashing. I punched in my code and listened. As I’d expected it was Carter, “Guess ya’ll probably at lunch. I was just reading the morning paper and I had a great idea. There’s a Country Western Bar in someplace called, Davie. It’s called The Round-Up. They’ve got some special live show there tonight. If it’s all right with you, I’d really like to check it out. Ya, know…sort of put me in a good easy frame of mind. I’m in my room, so give me a shout when ya…” The machine cut him off. I cleared the message. I’d only been a recent convert to Country Music, mainly because the poor reception in our office building only allowed 99.9 Kiss Country and a couple other totally whacko stations—heavy shit—definitely not office music. Both of my assistants were heavy into Country Music, and I’d heard good things about The Round-Up, but hadn’t gone yet. Sounded pretty good to me, so I fished his card out of my wallet and called Carter.

He answered on the first ring. “What’ you sittin’ there by the phone waiting for my call?” I bantered.

“Nope, I’m just reading up about the company a bit more. Maybe I’ll impress them with my interest in the company.”

“Suppose it could come in handy in a pinch, or maybe some extra credit. Hey maybe they’ll up their offer!”

“Yeah, right.”

“Anyway, what you suggested sounds good to me. I’ve heard about The Round-Up. It’s down in Davie, probably about 30 minutes from here. What time do things get started?”

“You like Country Music, or are you just saying that?” Carter asked.

“Actually, many years ago I liked it, and then kind of got away from it until the last year or so. Lots of people at the office like it, and if I’d had the radio turned up last night, you’d hear it was set to 99.9 Kiss Country.”

“Great. You line dance or two-step?” Carter asked.

“Now there you’ve got me. No, never tried. Actually I had a friend from El Paso who tried to teach me many years ago when I lived in Chicago. My feet didn’t take to it too well.” I confessed.

“Good, I’ll teach you, it’s easy.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Say’s here they’ve got live entertainment even during “happy hour’, Carter read.

“Okay, I’ll get out of here around 5:30, how about I see you about 5:45? That’ll put is down there probably about 6:30-7:00 depending on the traffic.”

“Great, see ya’ll then.” Carter said. We both hung up.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly. I had two meetings scheduled which made the time pass quickly as they were fast moving, informative and highly interactive, as we were laying out plans for the next two quarters.

I bailed out of my office at exactly 5:30 and stopped by my bank’s branch ATM, which was right across the street from Carter’s hotel. When I walked through the lobby entrance, Carter was at the front desk shooting the shit with “Paws” who had one of his paws on Carter’s forearm as he leaned over at him. Carter saw me and motioned me over. Just what I wanted to do; I composed myself and walked in their direction.

“Aerie, you’ll just never guess…Paulie here is from Brownsville.”

I immediately lost it, laughing out loud. Brownsville—how perfect! I could just picture him—brown nosing in Brownsville. I really couldn’t decide just why I disliked him—maybe because he just wasn’t my type—actually complete opposite.

“Wow, that ‘s just what we need—more Texans,” I joked. “Paws” took his hand off Carter’s forearm and pulled back, looked at me and scowled. “Hey, I thought everything was BIG in Texas,” and smiled back at “Paws”. I felt kind of mean for saying it, but I recovered. “Maybe good things come in small packages.” Paws, didn’t take kindly to my recovery efforts either.

Carter saw things were a bit stiff (I couldn’t be sure—I couldn’t see behind the counter) and said, “Well, we all better get goin’ I ‘spect,” as he started away from the counter.

“Ya’ll have a nice time at The Round-Up ya’ hear,” ‘Paws’ was turning on the Texas shit. Carter looked at me, and I looked back at Carter.

As soon as we’d cleared the doors we both broke out laughing. “I thought you said Paulie was English or something?”

“I did; guess he’s the type that can be anything you want him to be.” Carter replied. The exactness of his insight startled me—guess I wasn’t expecting it.

“Well, I probably wasn’t all that nice to him. I don’t know—there’s just something about him that bother’s me, I guess.” I added apologetically. I didn’t want Carter to think I was getting worried or jealous.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. I’d hate to see the little guy in a 10 gallon hat. Probably wouldn’t come in his size and he’d walk into a pole.” Carter mused.

He seemed different, a bit taller just now. Thinking about what he said about the hat made me look down at his feet. He had on a pair of gorgeous boots. “Wow, nice “shit kickers!” I said.

“Thanks, I always take them when I go anywhere…guess ya’ll can’t take Texas out of a Texan.”

“They look great! Years ago I had a custom pair from Oklahoma City, brown and tan. Wore them for years until they wore through. They were in sad shape when I tossed them. Guess the winter and salt roads in Chicago didn’t help either.”

“Bet you’d look good in a nice pair of boots,” Carter said. “Then again, you’d probably look good in most anything.”

“Geeze, can you cut that with a knife?” I quipped defensively. I wasn’t used to getting such comments, and this one really caught me off guard. None-the-less, I was drop-dead flattered.

Driving down I-95 I pointed out places of interest, giving Carter the 10 cent tour, which he ate up convincingly. We arrived at The Round-Up around 6:30, and the lot was already full of cars. “Busy place I guess,” I said.

We walked in and were immediately blasted with a mighty fine blare of live country music. The dance floor was full of people line dancing. “Come on, ya’ll just follow me,” Carter said as he grabbed my hand and set about pulling me towards the floor. I baulked at the idea.

“If I’m gonna make a damn fool out of myself, I think I’d better loosen up with a drink or two first!” I protested.

“Okay, but I’m gonna hold ya to that!” Carter warned as he smiled.

The band finished their set within a half hour and regular house music came on—all current and wildly popular stuff with the crowd. The dance floor was constantly occupied, but the types of dancing changed with the songs. When the band came back on, there was a host this time, and they started out by encouraging newcomers to learn. That was my downfall. I found myself out on the floor with Carter. I must admit I did fairly well…better than expected. He tried coercing me into the Two-Step, but I drew the line. However, we did get out there for other tunes.

“Hey, don’t forget—this is really a straight place,” I told Carter carefully. Apparently not carefully enough, as the guy next to us advised us that the place was actually mixed and everyone tolerated most anything.

“Thanks, ya’ll, cool.” Carter replied to him.

The rest of the night went by entirely too fast. We had some bar snacks, and short order finger food to keep us going. Later I glanced at my watch and was amazed—it was nearly 11 PM. I reminded Carter of his interview tomorrow morning, and we agreed it was best to bail. I had him back to his hotel by 11:30. I walked in into the lobby, because I wanted to—and I confess, partially to make sure he got past “Paws”. To my relief, Paulie had already gone home and there was an elderly night man on duty.

I begged off coming up, “I’d love to more than you know, but you’ve got to be on the top of your game tomorrow—lots at stake there. Besides, I haven’t changed my clothes for two days, and they’re rank with bar smell and sweat.”

“Yeah, just the way I’d like it.” Carter said with an evil grin. This surprised me, but made my dick twinge just the same. “Guess you’re right.” He added as we walked to the far end of the lobby and the elevator bank. When we were out of eyesight, he pulled me to him and gave me a strong kiss and a tight hug.

Both of our shirts were pretty much still soaked, and they stuck to our skin. He smelled wonderful—manly, but sort of sweet and the same time. It took all the power I could muster to walk away.

“I’ll call ya’ll just as soon as I know anything!” Carter said as he stepped into the elevator.

I turned and walked through the lobby. The night clerk looked up at me but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t in the mood for any idle conversation either. I got to my car and drove home. Fifteen minutes later I walked through the door and was greeted by a trio of yowling cats. The pigs had knocked off their food dispensers and were just about out of water. I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower, rinsing off. In under five minutes I was tucked in my bed and out of habit, turned on the TV and caught the last half hour of Jay Leno.

Minutes later, I had been forgiven and all three cats were resting comfortable on the bed, the youngest was staring at the TV screen. I always wondered what went through that mind of his. They’d not been thrilled at Rodrigo’s presence over the weekend, and then my being absent the night before, they were now content and everything was as it should be in their world.

I wondered how their world—and mine—might change. Time would tell…and maybe not that much more time.

I put the TV on sleep timer, rolled over and dropped off, tomorrow's another day--but unlike any other I bet.