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Young man gets some help in produce.
Here I was waiting for a guest, a male guest, and I wanted to get into his pants.
"Buzzzzzzz" I went to the intercom and pressed the entry button. "Here we go."
I was so surprised and delighted that Henry had called me and set up a date. This was moving better and faster than I had ever dreamed. I had to remind myself that he had invited me for dinner, not a porn-movie fuck session. Still, I didn't perceive any negative vibes. Maybe this was the real thing.
On the night of our date, I made sure that I was prepared for whatever might transpire. I brushed my teeth and showered. I made especially sure that my groin and ass were squeaky clean, but then, those areas usually get special attention when I shower. I selected a pair of low-cut briefs to wear beneath my jeans. I decided to wear just a bit of jewelry, a gold chain and a bracelet, not enough to be swishy, just enough to make me feel good. Finally, I slipped a condom in my pocket and popped some Cialis. "Be prepared," isn't just a Boy Scout motto. I promised myself that I would take things slowly and not get depressed if things did not pan out sexually, but just in case they did, I wanted to be ready.
Henry hadn't said what he was serving, so I picked up a red and a white wine on the way. Good excuse to over-imbibe and lower inhibitions. I felt that delicious fluttery feeling of excitement as I buzzed at his apartment. I reminded myself that as excited as I was, getting to know Henry and to build a friendship was why I was here.
Henry greeted me at the door. He was scrubbed and clean like me, obviously wanting to make a good impression. I caught the faintest whiff of cologne, and felt my cock begin to grow.
"Do you want the nickel tour," he asked after he took the wine from me.
"Of course," I replied. It was a short tour, but I was impressed. It was a small loft, but it had a nice view of the city. It was a bit spare - not much furniture, but it was nice to see that he had put together a pleasant space, and was not wallowing in the kind of depressing post-adolescent crib in which so many divorced men find themselves.
"Is sushi OK?" he asked. "I got some takeout from Song's" I was touched and a bit surprised that he'd remembered my offhand comment that I like sushi. I had started out with the intent that I would try to seduce him, and here he was playing me like some bitch that he wanted to bed. I liked it.
The wine was good, and the sushi was delicious. And the talk - the talk was wonderful. It reminded me of the late night bull sessions that I used to have in college.
The topics ranged from art to science, and Henry continually surprised me with his depth. Here and there, we added a few pieces to our personal mosaics. Henry had majored in business to please his dad, who was paying for his education, and he majored in art to please himself. A marriage followed immediately after college. With marriage followed the expectation of a stable career, so that led to a job in marketing. Judging from his position of responsibility in his company, he must be quite good at what he did. The family came, two children. Henry had intended to continue with art as a hobby, but due to his commitments, he relegated his portfolio to the closet along with, I suspected, some of his dreams and at least part of his sexuality.
"So Henry," I told him, "you invited me here to see your portfolio. Am I going to get to see it?"
"I'd love to show it to you," he said, and smiled. He seemed happier and more relaxed than in class, and I suspected the wine and after-dinner drinks were responsible for some of that. I was feeling pleasantly muzzy myself.
Henry retrieved an old, cracking portfolio with a balky zipper from his closet. We started laying pieces on his kitchen table. They were wonderful. He had concentrated on landscapes. They were a bit conventional, with bright, almost Fauvist coloring, but they sparkled with energy. There were some lovely figurative drawings and some abstract works to demonstrate his depth.
"What do you think?"