LatinosUSA

Reese and Joey stood on the perimeter of the tavern’s dance floor, large schooners of beer cradled manfully in their hands, and complacently observed the female patrons of Ladies’ Night. Every Saturday night at the Stick It In, the Irish pub morphed into the West End’s premier meat market.

“Chick near the band?” said Reese in a loud, obvious voice, nodding at a buxom blonde dancing almost in the keyboardist’s lap. “I’d do her.”

Several women dancing nearby glanced up at Reese with disapproval, but taking in the man up close, their lips flickered upwards.

Joey peered at the blonde and shook his head. She was, he estimated, at least ten pounds overweight. “Not for me,” he said. “Too fat.”

Next, Reese pointed with his beer at a slender, sexy woman with chin-length raven hair, who was nodding to the beat of a Jefferson Airplane tune. “Make her in a New York minute,” he promised.

But Joey only winced and said, “Nuh uh, too skinny.”

Reese rolled his eyes.

As the men conversed, other women glanced appreciatively at Reese.

Reese pointed with a pinkie at a ravishing redhead walking their way. Reese winked at her. She winked back. Reese’s pupils dilated.

“Her too?” asked Joey in an impatient voice.

“Right on!” murmured his friend, licking his lips.

The redhead paused for a moment and murmured, “I know you,” but then kept on walking, and Reese let her go, making no move to pluck the fruits of her obvious desire. She cast Reese a fleeting smile, but paid no mind to Joey.

Joey seemed unconcerned. “What’s your secret?” he asked at last. “Why do all the chicks glom onto you?”

“Follow me,” said Reese knowingly, and led the other man to the men’s room. Arriving at the loo, Reese unzipped his fly and said, “I want to show you something.”

Joey blinked. Now what? he thought. Reese had a reputation as a lady killer. Maybe Joey could learn something, as Reese had promised.

Slowly, Reese pulled a nine-inch tube of smoked sausage from his crotch and held it up to the weak yellow light of the restroom. “That,” he said in a worldly manner, “is all there is to it.” They returned to the dance floor and picked up where they’d left off.

After a few more glasses of cold, delicious beer, the two men left the tavern. On the sidewalk, Reese told his friend, “You get ‘em to look, spark a flicker of interest, and the rest is history. You’ll develop an assumed backstory, and you can pass anyone’s test of your manhood.”

“Maybe I’m just pickier than you, Reese,” observed his lover of two years.

“Discretion is for suckers — and straights,” Reese pointed out patiently. “Someday, homosexuality won’t be a crime, but not today. We could both lose our jobs just for being who we are. You’ll learn,” he promised.

As they headed for the parking lot, their hands brushed tentatively up against each other. “How long will we have to wait, Reese?” asked Joey.

The other man shrugged. “God knows,” he replied.

Previously published in Children, Churches and Daddies