Secret Connection in New Orleans

My best friend Chelsea was getting married and we were all off to New Orleans. Allison, the bossiest of bridesmaids, had created a full itinerary scheduling out every minute from touchdown to take off. After 5 months of spreadsheets, group texts, surveys, way too many heated debates and even more money spent, it was finally time to fly south.

I was excited of course. Four nights in the best city in the world to get into all sorts of trouble for a bachelorette weekend for a group of twelve. Chelsea was and still is my best girl friend and I was nothing but happy to celebrate her, enjoying the extended time together before she became another potential fare weather friend, lost to the commitments of marriage.  Everyone on the trip, Allison included, I considered a good friend, some obviously closer than others. It was going to be a blast for certain.

My only problem was the unforgiving schedule to celebrate Chelsea and 'mourn her freedom' allowed for no free time to explore or get into any hot action. Yes, most of our activities involved gay bars and drag queens, but with such a strict itinerary for our group of four gay men and eight straight women, I’d have no time to indulge in the sexually deviant behavior I craved while traveling. Especially in NOLA, where so many wild nights had occurred on my previous visits.

I jerked off twice before heading to the airport and even once on the plane, hoping to alleviate my horniness. It didn’t work, and I’ve had a semi since the plane made contact with the runway at Louis Armstrong International.

Once checked into the extravagant hotel, we were given our first marching orders. We had half an hour to get unpacked and freshen up and reconvene in the lobby. Dress code for that night was neon. The crew all met for our first night of debauchery on time, out of excitement or hunger, everyone was decked in coordinating bright colors ready to hit the town on our first night.

We looked kind of ridiculous, all the men and women in a variety of loud neon shorts and tank tops. We went for drinks first, then dinner, followed by scheduled barhopping. To Allison’s credit, our large group moved through the French Quarter without any issue. She did a great job of keeping us on schedule without letting on that she was herding us tipsy cats.

That was also the first night I met you.

You caught my eye right when we walked through the door of the second bar we went to. The oldest gay bar in town with my favorite purple drink. I noticed your tall broad frame move and dance through the crowd.

You had a mask on, lots of gold beads, a low cut tank top and short jean cutoffs, an outfit not unsimilar to mine, but in subtle colors compared to my flashy orange, pink and blue. I had been wearing a headband too like a tool, but after seeing you, I slipped it off and into my pocket.

I couldn’t tell what you looked like, but the dense sandy brown fur tangled with the pile of golden beads on your chest kept my attention. With your mask on it was impossible to tell if you noticed my stares but I liked to think I felt you returning them, watching  me from a distance.

Our first interaction was brief, I went out for a smoke with a married female friend, Samantha, ecstatic to be out with friends for the first time since having her daughter. She was my smoking buddy for the trip, eager to rebel against her lame lifestyle. Just as we were finishing and my friend was bugging me for another round of purple drink, you came out and asked me for cigarette.

My drunken female cohort giggled and ditched me, heading back inside after checking you out and giving me a not so subtle wink. I fished the pack from my tight shorts, pulling one out and offering it to you. I felt your fingers graze mine as you took it. I held up the lighter and you leaned in, your eyes holding contact with mine. You still had your black patent leather mask with yellow feathers on.  It was an interesting choice, and kind of ugly to be honest, but your intense eyes looked sexy in the open holes. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to pick up on your color code.

You walked backwards into the dark narrow alley, holding my gaze. I followed. I felt awkward and tried to say something after I stomped out my butt. Before I could say 2 words, you flicked your smoke to the ground and pressed your soft, plump, pink lips against mine. I still remember your thick coarse yet soft mustache hairs grazing my own. We made out intensely in the shadows against the side of the old stone building. I had just registered our height difference, feeling my neck leaning down so our tongues could battle each other.

I could smell your musky sweat, mixed with cologne, both ripe and manly, causing my shorts to get tighter. The intensity was palpable. I grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, both of us growing and grinding against each other's crotches. You slipped a hand in my pocket, pulling me closer.

We engaged in the sloppy, urgent lip lock for only those electric few moments. Time stood still and I felt sparks flying in the intensity. We were grinding and grabbing at each other. I wanted to consume you in that moment.

It was when we heard the bar door open, one of your friends called for you loudly, breaking the intensity. I didn’t catch your name, my mind blissfully distracted by one of the best tongue battles I’ve had to date. You slipped your hand from my pocket, taking my bright green sweat band with you, making a show of stuffing it in your back pocket, and I smiled.

Backing away with regret, you turned from my now lonely body and met the friends who were looking for you. You looked back at me and gave me a wink and continued on your way down Bourbon St as I stayed hidden in the shadows of our spot. I watched your perky round ass walk away with the neon green hanging from the straining pocket until it, with like rest of you, disappeared in the crowd.

Your scent lingered briefly in the thick heavy humidity around me and I savored it. With a deep sigh, feelings of excitement and desire mixed with loss and disappointment, I adjusted myself in my restrictive, dayglow shorts as best I could and went back inside.

More drinks, more dancing and laughter. We must have been quite the sight huddled together all in clothes illuminated by the black light. I kept looking for you in my increasingly drunken state as the night progressed, but no luck. I wanted more of you, hungry for your lips on mine again.

My eyes eagerly hunted for the black and yellow feathers on your mask as I stumbled back to the hotel with my remaining clan. I drifted off to sleep that night thinking of you and our brief connection. A chance encounter, a momentary tease and a very fond, exciting memory.

---

This is part one of many of this story. To read the rest sooner or view other stories, visit my Patreon. Always appreciate comments and feedback! Email [email protected]