Boy Story: Go North Young Man - 6. The Best Laid Plans...

The Best Laid Plans…

What made the Shawn situation so mindboggling was that it was so improbable. I’m not always up for sucking cock and I’m rarely into eating ass, so when I'm completely into it, it’s a special circumstance. Plus, overall, I’m kind of picky about who I have sex with. Some gay guys I know will suck any cock that’s offered to them. It doesn’t always matter whose cock it is, like the good old anonymous men’s room sex made popular by George Michael. They end up sucking and/or getting sucked anonymously and then go on their merry ways. Not really what I’m into.

I’m not saying all gay guys are into that scene, but I know that everyone else in my Montreal group had at least a handful of quick hook ups. It doesn’t have to be in a restroom. It could be in the woods, in a car, behind a building, in an apartment, wherever. I’m just using the commonality of restrooms as an example. I’ve heard, “He wasn’t attractive, but he had a nice cock, so I sucked him off” enough times.

I would be thinking “Eeew.”

I need to be really, really attracted to a dude to consider sucking his cock. For instance, I worked with this guy Jon for 5 years who I thought was incredibly hot. Trust me, he was. We became good friends because we often worked together on projects…and I would be fascinated with anything he had to say…and constantly searching for bulges appearing from within his clothing. If he ever suddenly said, “Man, I could really use a blow job right now,” I would have dropped to my knees and opened my mouth. But alas, Jon was hopelessly straight… hopeless for me anyway. I was destined to admire him from afar. He had no idea that I would have done anything he wanted. The constant problem for many of us—gay or straight—is that the people we are most attracted to are often not similarly attracted. When it does come out in our favor, we feel incredibly lucky, so we take a leap of faith…and it often culminates in a divorce years later. But I digress.

For me, little crushes are not uncommon…it’s a short-lived little fantasy. To think that it could result in something is implausible. However, when you have a fantasy that becomes a reality, anything can happen.

I ran the scenario through my head over and over.

The Evidence: I know Shawn performed 22 dances (according to him) for the guy before me in the far left corner of the back room because that’s where Shawn had left his red hoodie. Before he began my dance, he wanted to move to the near left corner, which had a little more privacy.

· Why did he want more privacy? Because he anticipated doing things with me that he didn’t want to get caught doing. It was premeditated.

· He was looking over his shoulder at the bouncer which proves that he was knowingly flaunting the rules.

· When his cock touched my lips, that was all him. I hadn’t moved.

· Then he let me suck him and he did a double take once he saw how big and hard I had unexpectedly made him. He was surprised at the result.

· He kissed me on the lips twice, the last time with tongue.

· Speaking of my tongue, he allowed me to eat and tongue his asshole with wild abandon during both private dances.

· He chose me over everyone else at the club as the recipient of his public appreciation dance on the last night.

· When he first saw me, he moved from talking across the table to coming over to my side and squatting down next to me.

· He remembered my name when I returned.

When you see it bulleted out, it’s quite a compelling list. There may be more that I haven’t even thought of. What was my take on this? The incredibly beautiful Shawn, the male nude dancer, liked me more than a little bit. There was no way to deny that I was smitten. I wanted him, but how could I push it to the next level? What was the next level?

The impediment to going further had become the very reason I had first seen him—the club. We could only go so far in Club David. If we were going to do more, we had to take it out of the club. Therefore, I needed a plan. But how could I be sure Shawn wanted to do more? There was no way to know without taking a leap of faith. That leap could only come in the form of a return trip.

Looking back on it now, it would be much easier today. We would simply exchange email addresses and things would progress from there. Back then, I gave Shawn my phone number but I didn’t have his, making any planning tenuous at best. But again, there was only one way I knew of to push whatever it was between us forward…or to find out there was no forward.

I requested and was approved for a week vacation from work in late June. I planned to drive to Montreal alone and reserve a room in a high-rise hotel within walking distance to Club David. Sometimes the B&Bs are a bit restrictive about bringing in guests. The big hotels are impersonal enough to give you the freedom to come and go as you please…and with whom you please. Perfect, if my plan was to succeed.

I made the drive straight through in four and a half hours. I planned to be in Montreal for three days minimum or five days maximum. I arrived at around dinnertime and decided to order room service because, after all, I was on vacation and I was going to treat myself. It was time to live it up a little. After dinner, I took a long walk around the city to work off some of those calories, plus it was still light out.

I made it to Club David at around 11:30 that night. I spotted Shawn across the room with his back to me talking to one of the other dancers. I had no trouble recognizing him from behind or from the front or from the side. I stealthily moved over closer to my target. I stood behind him and a little to the side. He had stopped his conversation and turned a bit to face the stage. I leaned in closer to his ear and said referring to the dancer on stage, “That’s not what I would call dancing.” He casually looked over at me and it took a second to register. I suddenly found myself in a bear hug or as close to a bear hug as his skinny body could muster.

“Glenn! Oh my God! Oh my God!” And he kind of bounced up and down while he hugged me. I thought, “I think I’ve caused him to jump for joy. This is a good sign.”

Then he kissed me full on the lips, another good sign.

“Can I buy a dance from you, and we can talk in the back room?” I asked.

“You don’t have to pay me just to talk,” he replied.

“I want to pay you, so we can talk in private,” I ventured.

“Well, OK, it’s your money.”

I followed him to our usual corner in the back room and I sat down.

“Do you want me to take my clothes off while we talk?” he questioned.

“Oh—well, I guess that would be OK,” I justified. He began removing his clothes, so I began talking.

“Shawn, I am in town for four or five days by myself and I have a room at Hotel Des Gouverneurs right down the street.” I stopped to admire his cock and balls which were hanging in mid-air as he removed the red singlet he was wearing. I temporarily lost my train of thought.

“Um, hmm. Would you be interested…” His cock touched my lips and I began sucking him again. Goddam, he had a beautiful penis. After half a minute or so, he withdrew.

“Shawn, how can I talk to you with my mouth full?” I chided him.

“And whose fault is that?” he asked back.

“At this point, I don’t know,” I replied totally flustered.

“OK, OK, now we’ll talk,” he conceded.

“Like I said, I’m in town for like five days, I’m by myself, and I’m staying at Hotel Des Gouverneurs down the street. Do you want to go home with me tonight?” I could have beat around the bush, but I didn’t have the energy.

“Go home with you? Oh. I can’t. I mean, the club prohibits dancers from going home with customers. Since the club has no control of any deal that may be struck between dancer and customer, it is not allowed. Like if there was an agreement of money to be exchanged, the club could be held responsible for promoting prostitution because the meeting happened in the club.”

I felt my heart sink and the air rush out of my lungs as my plan went down in flames.