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- 05/29/2019
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Our Bar - 1. Chapter 1 Fly Me to the Moon
*****
Fly Me to the Moon.
I watch the cold drips race down the outside of the glass before I pick it up for another frothy sip. It fits and cools my hand in a familiar way. I am perched on a high steel-backed stool at a small round table, halfway down the long wall of the bar. One foot is on the ground while the other is resting on the front rung. I recognize it is a provocative pose, with my groin thrust forward, but it is comfortable, and there is none but the bartender to see it. This is how I would sit and wait for you to finish up with a client or a meeting.
Looking through expansive plate glass at the people walking along Church Street, I see the long streaks made by a squeegee in the hands of an amateur, as afternoon sun highlights their presence. Despite those, it is a clean place, welcoming, and lit with soft and sporadic down-lights. For many, it is a second home. For us, it was our bar.
I envision you arriving at the large glass door, in late sunlight on a summer eve, your suit immaculate and your white shirt looking as if straight from the dry cleaner despite you having put in a twelve hour day. You enter and greet the bartender, and anyone else in your path, but your eyes are pointed in my direction. I know the exact moment your vision adjusts to the dim interior. It is when your face lights up and your smile touches my soul.
I signal with a raised finger to Mark, but I don’t look at him, for I only have eyes for you. I know he’s pouring your favorite lager… you always have a glass of draft before switching to either a bottled brand, or a wine to be determined later. My guess would be Corona on this warm day.
Your smile stays in place, but your eyes travel downward, and I see the familiar appreciation. Yes, this show is for you… only you. I do the same as you move toward me, smitten with the body encased in sublime, professional fashion. I will never tire of the assault you launch on all my senses. I know your body better than I know my own—I know the heat that resides below that Louis Vuitton belt, the strength of the legs bringing you closer, and the texture of the hair beneath your shirt.
Time stops when we kiss, and we don’t even notice Mark’s arrival or departure. He thinks we’re cute… adorable he once said. He’s not your typical bartender, and he roots for us.
You pull the empty stool as close as possible—you always do—before you perch in the way that matches mine, and we are both content with the contact of our legs. Our night has begun, and no matter what direction it takes, it will be perfect, because it will be about us.
You astonish me each time we talk. At first, we compete to learn about the other’s day, but soon settle into give and take. Our conversation is always easy, and with courtroom ease, you learn things about my day that I had already forgotten. We are in sync. Kisses are punctuation for us, and with each one, we know it won’t be long until the next. I love when your fingers play with the hairs on my wrist, and I am compelled to trace your blue-black jawline every so often. It thrills me with how you lean into my hand each time.
At first, we only see each other, acknowledging but not engaging with patrons who file in and stroll by. This is our time… we’ve endured the hours or days apart, and this is our reward, and friends know and respect our need. This is something I’ve never experienced with anyone else, at least not to this magnitude.
When you speak, I hear every word, feel every nuance, and learn you as I drink my fill. As always, I am fascinated by your Adam’s apple as it bobs up and down, and wait patiently for the moment you doff your coat, loosen your tie, and undo the top button of your shirt. You know the effect it has… I’ve told you, and you make the action sensual with no apparent effort.
You only ever undo the one button, never more than that. You would if I asked you to, but I don’t. The dark tuft that appears at your throat is enough. I know what that spot smells like… tastes like… feels like, and leads to—and I know the next buttons will be undone by me… later.
I tell you everything. When you hear my fears, you listen, and you don’t ever make light, even when they involve you. You understand my quandary, and it is more proof, despite the difference in years, we are in sync. If I was younger, I might call us soulmates.
As the day darkens and night awakes, we become more social. In this too, you astonish me. You are a people person, like me, and never once do you try to make me feel bad for it. No jealousy when someone touches me—you have taken the time to truly know me and the person I am, and trust me to rebuff in my own way, as I do you.
We begin to move around, drifting from table to table, drinks in hand, in the now busy bar. Sometimes we’re at opposite ends, but still we are connected. We last a handful of minutes at most before we check in with each other, by look or touch. We are in love, and everyone in this place is aware. Most know you, and they love you too. I am new here, but have quickly become a fixture, and a part of the family.
I never expected to find you at this stage of my life, but I am thankful for it. It is a gift that is immeasurable, and I am happy. So are you, and we live gloriously in and between the moments. Compatibility has taken on new meaning.
Soon, Reggie the piano man arrives, and against all odds, you get me to sing, albeit weakly while your voice rings out with clarity. Yes, you are astonishing. I watch you as you sit beside the musician and sing the whole of “Fly Me to the Moon” directly to me. Who does that? You, my love, and like everything you do, you do it well.
The glass washer starts up with a roar before the motor quietens, and the sound releases me from the past. Sighing, I glance over. I don’t know this bartender, and wonder if Mark still works here. More patrons have arrived, but none I recognize.
It’s been quite a while since I’ve been in here, and things have changed. The bar has changed, and so have we. It’s time to go. My glass is empty, but my heart is full. I still love you. I always will, and I have no regrets, but this is no longer our bar, and I can’t be here when the piano comes alive. The music wouldn’t be the same if I can’t share it with you. Just know that you did fly me to the moon, and I will forever remember how we played among the stars….
I take one last look around, but stay in the present. A solitary man is staring, and he makes his interest clear rather blatantly. Does he see his like? My loneliness? I contemplate the interest, and nod to him, but when I get off my stool, I head for the door. Sorry, guy, it’s nothing personal, but this used to be our bar, and I don’t want to violate the memories in any way.
I begin to hum our song as I walk down the street. I was a fortunate man… I got to see what spring was like on Jupiter and Mars….
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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