1. First Class - Part 1


    Date: 11/6/2014, Categories: Bisexual, Author: blin18, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    mathematician’s wet dream. He lost track of time watching the game, but at one point he found his beer glass empty and it was almost magically replaced with the slightest of nods to the under-worked bartender. The bar wasn’t getting any fuller, but most of the older folk seemed to now be replaced by younger people like himself. Bob felt a surreal moment of disorientation as he looked about and considered that this is exactly how aliens would stage a covert invasion: snatch people away and replace them with alien stooges so that nobody would notice the change. A young man with shaggy, sun-bleached hair dropped on the bar stool next to Bob, trailing a wake of eau-du-surf: salt, sand and something sweet and organic that could have been beeswax. A moment’s eye contact with the bartender and a gesture at the Pale-Ale beer tap and then seconds later he was sipping the foam off his beer with a satisfied sigh as the bartender made change. “How’re we going?” he asked, gesturing at the TV with a nod. “Three-f’r,” Bob responded, as a cricket lover he was secretly overjoyed to be able to use one of vanishingly few forms of slang with which he was fluent. “The openers went cheaply, but the middle order’s putting up a bit more resistance.” The other man nodded knowingly. “Much in the pitch?” he asked. “A bit. All three wickets were caught behind. If we can get two-fifty then our blokes will have something to bowl at later.” They watched in companionable silence until the end of the over ...
    and then the man turned to Bob and held out his hand. “Spike,” he introduced himself. “How’re y’doing?” “Bob,” Bob replied taking the proffered hand. Spike shook it in a complicated series of grip changes that looked like something from an American movie, but he did it naturally without making Bob feel awkward. Spike led out with a volley of skilful small talk; he was engaging without being nosey or creepy. It was his first day in Coffs after driving in from Port Macquarie. He was on a twelve-month surf-safari around Australia and planned to stay maybe a week before moving on to Byron Bay for a longer stop, maybe work in a surf shop to top up his funds. “So you’re here on your own, too?” he asked after extracting Bob’s short story: finished school, going to uni next semester, flew in this afternoon and staying a couple of weeks . Bob nodded and drained his glass. Spike shot the barman the universal signal for “two-beers.” “You can get the next one,” he nodded to Bob as he paid for both. “So,” Spike went on. “We’re both in need of a wingman.” “A what?” Bob looked confused. “A wingman. A bro. A partner in crime,” he explained unhelpfully. “Look, I’ll take seconds. I mean, you’re a decent looking bloke, so your seconds are probably a lot better than I could do on my own.” A light switched on in Bob’s head; he was talking about picking up girls! Bob almost laughed out loud at Spike’s tragic misfortune to attach himself to the one person in the bar most able to repel a woman, any ...
«12...456...1213»