Ring Finger (unpublished)

On my second drink which I was nursing slowly and feeling like I needed to get out of the bar to go home and jerk off before I fell asleep I sighed before looking up the television, then down to the young man who just stepped up.  I had spotted him before with some friends in the corner, other young men, flamboyant and obviously gay, but they had all departed and he was alone.

Just shorter than myself with stylish blonde hair, glasses, an oval and hairless face, he looked about twenty, a college student, and he looked bored, irritated even.

“Excuse me, but I don’t have my glasses.  Could you tell me the time on the clock over there?” I asked.

He looked to the clock at the end of the bar near the bottles of alcohol, smirked, and then looked back to me.  He looked me up and down and I knew he was figuring I wasn’t much to look at.  I was thirty-five, soft, with a receding hairline, and wearing a suit and tie.

“Is that some kind of pick up line?” he asked.

“Me?  Oh no,” I said before holding up my left hand to show him my wedding ring.  “I’m married.”

“Really?”

“This isn’t a gay bar is it?  I mean, not to say that you are, but you’re friends, and you thinking, well, that I was trying to pick you up or come on to you.”

He smiled at me, a superior grin, but there was kindness in his eyes.  He made his way down the few feet of bar and stood next to me.

“It’s not a gay bar.  I guess with my friends we get pretty campy,” he said.  “Jesus, is it that obvious?”

“Well, I mean, thinking I was, you know,” I said.

I thumbed my ring and looked away from his blue eyes to the wood, then to our partial reflections, covered a little by more bottles.

“I didn’t mean anything.  It’s just, you know, this is a college town and guess I’m used to guys hitting on me.”

“Guys like me?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re way out of my league,” I said.

“You think so,?” he asked.  “What do you know about it?”

I smirked before taking a sip of my drink to keep the buzz.

“It’s been years but I’m not much to look at and you, well, you’re muscular, young, and have a cute face, the blonde hair...”

“You think I’m cute?  I thought you were married,” he said.

“Well, I am but I can still look,” I said.  “Not that, I mean, you know.”

He smiled at me as if I had made some fatal mistake, revealed something to him I didn’t want him to know, anyone to know, some latent instinct, some true desire.

“And where is your wife on this particular night?” he asked.

“Back home,” I said.

“Far from here?”

“Very far,” I said.  “I’m on a business trip.  I have a room over at the Norman Hotel.  It’s nice.  I got bumped up to a deluxe for free since they don’t have many guests.  It’s the one good thing about this trip.”

“Business didn’t go so well?”

“No,” I said.  “I’m in publishing.”

“Really?  I didn’t think anyone was in that anymore.”

“There are still a few of us,” I said.

“Well, let me buy you another drink,” he said.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

I downed my drink and he signaled to the bartender.  When the woman got to us he ordered a drink for each of us but when she returned with the bottle I motioned for him to wait and reached for my own wallet.

“I said, I got this.”

“Well, you’re in college,” I said.  “You need to save your cash for textbooks.  I have an expense account.”

“Hey, I can afford one drink for a friend,” he said.  “Besides my textbooks are all novels I pick up at the used bookstore.”

“A friend?” I asked.

“Yeah, tell me about the publishing industry.  Like, how does a young writer get into it these days?”

“Unfortunately, it’s the one thing that hasn’t changed,” I said.

“Bore me with the details,” he said.

I sipped from my drink trying to recall all the details I could about the publishing industry, then sort them into discernible lessons I could tell this young man.  I started with the slush pile, something he seemed to know and went into the details about how the industry worked and still works.  He smiled and listened as I told him a few details he didn’t know.  I thought I was boring to him until he ordered another drink for us but this time I paid despite him reaching into his pocket.  He smiled at me and I smiled back.  He got comfortable and began telling me what he knew.  We were exchanging ideas.  We talked about two hundred years of publishing.  We were making jokes and laughing at them.  And somehow our conversation moved on, into an easy dialogue as we continued to drink.

Once, when he reached into his pocket I motioned to stop him, my hand got too close and I touched the sleeve of his sweater.  I felt the soft fabric and looked up to him embarrassed about being so clumsy but he only smiled back at me.  Did he think I had revealed something else to him?  I pulled back my hand, looked away, and cleared my throat as I pulled out some cash from my pocket.

“Cash?” he asked.

“Too many drinks,” I said.  “I can only lie about so many.”

“But now it’s getting expensive for you too,” he said.

“Too bad we’re not back at my room,” I said.  “I have lots to drink there.”

He laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“You are trying to pick me up,” he said.

I held out my hand with the ring and showed it o him.

“Let me see that thing,” he said.  “Did you get that out of cereal box?”

He took hold of my hand and I could feel his warm fingers against my skin.  I liked the feeling of it, but I was drunk.  He looked at my ring, got closer, closer.  He touched it and twisted it around my finger.

“Feels real enough,” he said.

“This should be our last drink here,” he said.

“Here?” I asked.

“You said you have more and I’m too drunk to take the bus back to the college.  Besides I’m not sure if they are still running,” he said.

I paid for our drinks and we made small talk until they were finished before he excused himself to go the bathroom.  I retrieved my coat and hat from the coat check area and waited for him by the door.  I could tell he wasn’t as drunk as I felt by the way he walked to me and took hold of my collar and pulled me out to the sidewalk.  We laughed and he let me go.

“You’re a tease,” I said.

“Oh god, I am,” he said.  “I love to get guys worked up.”

We heard conversation around us, realized someone, others, could hear our conversation and laughed again.  We walked away towards my hotel.  He was slightly ahead of me and I quickly found I needed to pee so I told him we had to hurry.

“Just step into an alley and go there.  No one will see you, this is downtown.”

“Sh, now everyone knows,” I said.

He raised his arms into the winter snowflakes.  “No one’s around,” he said.
I let out a laugh and looked to the windows.  He was right.  No one was around and no one was looking.  I thought about how far it was back to the hotel and decided I needed to go sooner than that.

I told him I wanted to go in the next alley.  He pointed one out to me and I stepped to it, into the shadows, around a dumpster where I felt no one would see and unzipped my fly.  He waited on the sidewalk looking both ways.  I suddenly realized this stranger was responsible for my safety.  He could just as easily robbed me, stepped into the shadows, knocked me down, taken my wallet and my ring.

“Hurry up,” he said.

“Someone coming?”

“No but it’s cold out here,” he said.

I finished my business and zipped up before walking back out and looking both ways before we continued.  We had conspired.  We were in a conspiracy.  We got to the hotel easily enough and I led the way into the elevator, to my floor, and to my room where I stopped in the doorway and leaned against the door.

“Before we go in there,” I said.  “I don’t remember the state I left it in and there could be something embarrassing out.”

“Like porn?” he asked.

“Like my underwear,” I said.

He stepped to me and leaned against the other side of the door frame.  He looked me in the eye and looked back at him.  It was a moment of some spiritual connection, I thought.

“I have one question for you,” he said.

This is it, I thought, he’s going to ask me if I’m gay.  I’m going to deny it and maybe, just maybe he’ll believe me.

“Boxer or briefs?” he asked.

“Briefs,” I said.

He nodded.

“What?” I asked.

“Older guys, married guys, wear the tighty whites.  Their wives buy them because they’re cheap so she can spend the money on other things for the family,” he said.

“Is that so?” I asked.

“My father was the same way,” he said.

He took the keycard from my wallet in my breast pocket and was about to slide it in the lock when he stopped me with a touch of his fingers to my hand.  I looked up to him.  He smiled.

“Are you a little bit curious?” he asked.

I looked out into the hallway but no one was around, possibly even awake.

“Curious?” I asked.  “I’m not your type.  We’re not even in the same league.”

“Fuck that,” he said.  “Bodies are bodies, flesh is flesh.  Would I show you off to my friends?  Probably not, but this isn’t that,” he said.

I gulped.  He was making his move.  Maybe we could have some fun, I thought.  He was young, cute, and likable.  Bodies are bodies, flesh is flesh, I thought.

“Just tell me you’re curious,” he said.

I gulped.

“I’m curious,” I said.

“Ever had sex with a man before?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“I’ll show you everything you need to know,” he said.

I looked to the handle where my hand twitched with nervousness.  I stuck the card in until the light turned green and he opened the door.  He grabbed my tie, wrapped it around his hand, and pulled me inside where he took the card from the lock, closed the door, and pulled me into a kiss.