St. Paul 1980

“Sleep well.”

“I will. You to you.”

“Love, you.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

I hung up. The ritual 9 p.m. EST call when I am on the road for business. And the sentiments are real. There is love. Though no physical love anymore. I miss that. More than I can say. Especially the oral sex. There were no blow jobs for me, but damn I loved using my mouth. But that is over. And I have been faithful. I do not meet women on the road. Just not interested in the emotion, the complexity, or having to pay.

So, it is 8:20 p.m. in St. Paul. It is March. Cold. Dark. Forty years ago, so 1980. I have had a good meal in the hotel dining room. A really good steak. Some good wine. But at 8:30 I am restless and do not want to watch TV – the usual in hotel night activity for me, or read, even though I have a good book. A friend had recommended James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room. He told me it was time to read something a bit more interesting than Steinbeck and Henry James, two of more recent road companions. James is a good author to have in your hands if you want to snuff off an unwanted conversation with the person sitting next to you on the plane. Having started the Baldwin, not so sure that would do the trick, especially… well.

I look out the window. My room is on the 12th floor. It looks down on an unbusy street. The only lights I see are on the front of what must be a bar, lights dominated by purple and pink. I wonder what sort of bar that might be, though I have no intention of heading out. I watch people going in and out. It looks like mostly men, maybe only men. From here it is impossible to be sure. But the coats and hats look male. So what?

9 p.m. CST comes. Still restless. Maybe I should take a walk around the block. Maybe I should see what kind of place that is with the purple and pink lights. I get dressed to go out. I lock the hotel door, head down to the elevator, go to the ground floor, out the hotel, to walk around the block, and into the cold, and into a new life, unexpected life, with an outcome not ever anticipated.

I turn to my right. It is so quiet on the street. Not many people out in St. Paul at this hour in March. The sidewalks clear, but walls of snow from the plowing earlier in the day. Do they ever stop plowing here? Not many cars on the street. I save the street with the bar for last. There is an entrance to the hotel on every side, so I can get back in without having to go all the way around to the front.

I turned the corner, walked a bit up. Stopped. It was a bar. Nice. I might just go in for a drink. How tiresome are hotel bars later at night with what seem to be their regulars – lonely men on the road, tipsy, maybe drunk, who want to talk to you. I do not want to talk to them. I see some people coming out of the bar. Only men. They part with happy words like,

 “See you at my place. Ten minutes?”

 “Yes!”

A couple, looking like a couple, cross the street and go toward the hotel. Did I just hear one say?

“Room 1015. Come up in five. OK?”

“Sounds like a plan. I will go around to a different door.”

“Cool.”

Just two guys looking for a night cap. That might be fun.

I hang back. It is not that cold. And I doubt anyone can see me. Why do I stop? They say curiosity killed the cat… but satisfaction brought it back. Just curious.

Then there we the single men I saw walk out of the hotel and cross to go tight into the bar. They had shoveled a path to make that easy. No delay to go to the corner to cross. A few guys came up the street and went in. Only guys. Must be any after-business hang-out. Of course. A watering hole.

So why not go in? It is not that late. Tomorrow’s first meeting is not until 11, a late start on the first of two days of meetings here in St. Paul.

I crossed. Little did I know what lien I was crossing. Nothing held me back. My ignorance was no insurance against what happened. Had I known, would I have crossed? Probably. I am one curious guy. And there was no reason to go back in.

I crossed the street. I walked into The Lounge. It was full, busy, not terrible loud, dark, two long bars that I could see, some TV screens in the back, a log way off, I could not see what was playing. And all men. All looking pretty relaxed. But then, this was a bar. No lonely hotel drunks. And I did get some welcoming looks. More than a glance.

I checked my overcoat, hats, and gloves. I stepped up the bar after finding a place between two men, of course, only men here. They seemed busy chatting with the guys next to them. I was not interrupting anything. Heaven knows I am shy at best. And being here was quite a deviation from the normal for me.

They guy to left turned to face me.

“Hi, I’m Terry. You are?”

“Bob.”

“By the look of things, this is your first visit here. Am I right?”

“Yes.” I was feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“Mine, too. I am in town on business, you?”

“Yes.”

“Staying across the street. I saw the lights. The hotel bar is pretty sad.”

“It is.” I took a sip from my scotch and soda.

“What do you think? Oh, by the way, this is Hank.” The guy to his left. “He is from here and has been introducing me to this place. Pretty cool. Mellow. Different.”

“It is.” By that time I had, in order to relax, finished by drink.

I turned to the bar tender, “Another, a double.” I had not noted that he was in shorts and a black tee. The shorts were what I had missed. I guess because it was warm in here.

“Bob, join us. O.K.?

“Definitely.”

They made space between the two of them.

Hank. Terry. Two decent looking guys. My age. My build. Relaxed. Welcoming. I felt good to be there. We enjoyed our round. Hank told us about the area. We talked about our interests. Baseball – Spring training was starting. The outlook for the Twins, the Red Sox (my team), and the Padres (Terry’s).  Hank worked the St. Paul Companies. Terry was in with Safeco. I was with the Travelers. Three insurance guys. We talked about travel. Its demands. Being away from home. Hank had to travel, too. Hank and Terry told me how they looked for places like The Lounge in other cities, in Seattle, even in Hartford – the first time I had heard of the Polo Club. They asked if I knew it. I said that I did not. I was told it was very cool. I should go if I like The Lounge. They told me that they had been here before.

I asked, “Mostly guys?”

Hank said, “All guys. Let’s get another round an adjourn to one of the rooms in the back.”

“Sure, come on Bob.”

We got our drinks and walked to the back. The closer we got to the back the more I noticed how close some of the men were to each other. Was this a gay bar? It seemed tame enough. And I felt OK to be there. I could have turned back to go to the hotel, but did not. Why not? Why was the better question. I was not alone. Hank and Terry seemed like good guys. I was having a good time. I was feeling mellow. So to the back.

“Left or right?”

“Hank you decide.”

“Any interest in particular Bob?”

“None. My first time here. How can I choose?”

Hank said, “First time here, or first time in a place like this?”

“Both.”

“Wow. Well Terry is also from out of time. This is only his second time here, so let’s let him decide.”

Terry responded, “The right door. Bob, you are sure you are OK with this. I see you have a ring on your left hand. I do, too. And Hank, too. But this is a gay bar. You Ok with that?”

“First time. O.K. And I am feeling good. Right door it is.”

We entered through a thick leather was hanging in straps. We went from the relative brightness of the bar to a dimply lit room. Our eyes had to adjust. I saw the bar. Good, I needed another drink. There were semi-circular padded benches around two sides of the room. There was a small stage, spotlights. Hanging over the stage was some kind of, what was it, a sling? The stage was empty. We found an open bench with room for the three of us. Hank took the center spot.

I looked around the room.

The bartender was shirtless. There were six semi-circular benches. All full now. Three to four men each. I looked.

“Bob. Hope you like a show?”

“OK”

It is probably not like the Flame Room, the Twin Cities’ famous restaurant.”

“I hope so,” said I. Pretty old-school.”

“This is not,” said Terry. “And, the time I was here it was participatory, even for rookies.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“You will,” said Hank. “Another round?”

“Sure.”

Hank got the eye of a waiter. Damn he wasn’t shirtless… and only wearing a red jock. I could not take my eyes of his ass – so hot. Why was I looking? The drinks? That this was the closest I had gotten to anything sexual in a long time? Why did I stay?”

We ordered. He was back in a few minutes. Next to each glass was a bag with white powder.”

“What’s the powder for,” I asked.

“To get us ready for the show,” said Terry. “Stir it in.”

Who was I to say No.

“Bob, you will love this – MDMA.”

We mixed it in our drinks.

“So, Bob, Terry cam here for sex, you?”

“Yeah, I like to find a place like this in every time I visit. No sex at home. This is better. You?”

“First ever, any place, and… no sex at home, no sex at all. Just bored in the hotel.” I felt a wave was over me. “I like being here. Good drinks. Just taking it all in.”

“That’s a good plan, right Hank?”

“What I did. Hope it can be more than take it in, but join in.”

So I started taking it all in. Fuck, there were guys making out. Hot in an incredible way. Men kissing men right in public. Never saw that before. In fact Terry and Hank were kissing, deeply, arms around each other. At a bench across the way, I saw two guys kissing and rubbing each ithers’ crotches. You could see their pants straining to contain what must have been hard cocks. Damn. I looked at Terry and Hank. I was feeling good. But alone. And I felt my cock responding. Should I edge closer to Hank? Then what?

It was really warm in the room. A lot warmer than I had expected. I felt anther wave of… desire, lust.  I wanted to kiss… and … “ This was what a gay bar was like. And yes, I had heard of the Polo Club. But go? Maybe not here. But here was here, and I was here, and the drinks and the dug made me want to be part of it, it felt like a key had turned in a lock. So edged closer to Hank. Would he mind? I hoped not. He didn’t seem to. He and Terry were lip-locked. Hanks’ hands were in Terry’s shirt. I put my hand on Hank’s leg. He did not bat it away. He drew it to his crotch. What a magical feeling. I felt his cock respond.

Then the room lights flashed.

The waiter in the jock came around for another round. It was good I was across the street. Terry too. What about Hank? A problem for later.

Was this waiter cute? He was. I looked at him with new eyes. His ass cheeks were so arousing. His chest! And I had thought I was a breast man. And the bulge in the jock. Fuck. Was I going crazy? My mouth was hungry. To kiss, to suck, to lick, to probe. He brought the drinks. I was on fire. And obviously not the only one in the room. It seemed to seethe with desire. Men kissing, caressing, touching. Then the lights went low in the seating area, and up on the stage. All eyes seemed to turn. Turn, to look. To look a man in the sling, nude, erect, body oiled, toned, his legs up in some kind of stirrup. His hands up in some kind of wrist holder. Hs legs spready. Arms open. Mouth open. So fucking incredible. I was here. Amazing. This was show.

A low, pounding beat played. A strong rhythm. Enfolding all of us in its beat. Then a second man came on stage. It was the waiter. Nude but for his jock. Hs body oiled, gleaming, the jock straining to hold his erection. His ass amazing. I wanted…. Wanted what I had not wanted before. He had blackened his nipples. His body was marked with lines and shapes in grease pencil. It looked almost pagan. No this was pagan. Ancient worship of the phallus. He walked by to the man in the sling.

He took that man’s cock in his mouth – just the head. Circled the cock head with his tongue. Then took out a bottle of oil and started to stroke the sling man’s cock. Hard. Like iron. He his hands caressed his chest. He tweaked his nipples. I had never seen anything like this. I felt like my pants would explore. I could not take my eyes off his cock. His public area was shaved. In fact, he was all shaved. All-skin. Erotic. An object of sex, of worship. I looked around, and some of the other men had taken off their shirts, some were already nude. The nude men were hard, stroking. Men kissing. Stripping. The men on stage – the man in the sling was sucking the other man. Live sex. Right there. And Not just on the stage. Around me. I took off my clothes. I was hard. Hank and Terry were nude. Terry was sucking Hank. I watched the men on the stage, the men around me. A man from anther bench broke away from his group and came over – to me! He stood there. I just found myself on my knees. I was sucking his cock. His cock. Rock hard. Filling my mouth, if only I could take more. I stroked my cock. I felt a wave of frenzy. Then a sudden flood of cum in my mouth! I swallowed what I could.

“Thank you.”

He walked back to his group.

Around me, sucking, kissing, stroking.

On the stage… the two men were fucking. Fucking. Right in plain view. But then except for the stage lights we were all having sex in plain view.

How could I be doing this? How not. Why not. Hank was fucking Terry, pounding his ass. Raw. Not a condom in sight. Shit. I had taken one load in my mouth. I wanted another.

I crossed the room. Took a cock in my mouth. He face fucked me until in shoot a load. I swallowed. And then I saw a guy with his back to me. His ass. Hot, incredible. He was slightly bending over to face fuck a guy sitting on the bench. Hungry for oral sex, I took his ass in my hands – a man’s ass! Parted the cheeks and started eating his hole. Holy fuck. Musky, but I could not stop myself.

And on stage.

Fucking.

I ate ass. Then broke away. Just long enough for another man to start fucking the guy I had been eating. I stayed there. He broke off. I took the top’s cock in my mouth. A flood of cum. Then I ate the fucked ass again.

I felt hands on my shoulders. Terry.

“Hey buddy, come back to us. A break. I think you will want to see this part of the show. And then, damn you have been participating. Sure this is your first time?”

I joined Hank. He turned to kiss me.

“Hit taste of cum and ass, Bob. Sure this is your first time?”

So the next part of the show – after sucking and fucking? What was to come.

The room settled down. A bit.

The music began again. The two men began to fuck again. But then, men from the audience started to come up. Feeding the man in the sling their cocks, taking the place of the performer in fucking the man in the sling, in being sucked. Terry took my hand. He pulled me forward. My cock was hard. My body was on first. He pushed my head down so I was fucking the man in the sling while he took a turning fucking him. I was surely in public. Then I saw Terry shudder. Coming in the man’s hole. He pulled me off his cock. My face on the just fucked hole. I wanted to suck out the load. Why not, I sucked my loads out of my wife’s cunt when she would let me. I wanted the cum. My face was wet with ass juices, cum. I felt my ass being lifted up. Then, shit someone was trying to fuck me! I was tight. They pushed. Pushed in. Pain. Pleasure. Fuck… Terry took he back to the bench when the man fucking me had cum in my hole.

“Fucking hot, Bob?”

“I love this Terry? Where is Hank?”

“He took a guy back to his room at the hotel.”

“Crazy. But thinking about crazy, do you have to go home tonight?”

“No. She is out of town on business.”

“Will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Come back with me to my room and stay the night?”

“Yes. I want your ass. I want to take it.”

“Take it.”

We dressed. Left The Lounge. Crossed to the hotel. Went in. Up separate elevators. Into my room. Our room. Stripped. Showered. Talked a bit about us. About what I had discovered. Fucked.

 I found out he was also solo the next night. I was one more night in town. Not solo in St. Paul tonight, or tomorrow.

Gay, happy, wondering about what would be next.

And Hank joined us when we first went to The Lounge, then we went back to my room.

The 9 p.m. EST call.

“Hope you are having a good time in St. Paul.”

“I am”

“Sweet dreams.”

“Same.”

“Love you. ”

“Love you.”

“I want to hear all about it when you get home. Your meetings, where you ate. All of it.”

“You will.”

“Night.”

“Night.”

“Bye”

All of it? I looked down to lock eyes with Terry, sucking my cock while Hank sucked him – quiet, lewd.

 All of it? … maybe one day.

But she never did hear all about it. Even after the divorce went through and I moved to St. Paul to be with Terry. And that is another story.