It's funny how you bump into your old One Night Stands when you least expect it. I mean, when you're grooving on the floor of a GB party, you're sort of mentally prepared when a hot ONS comes by and grabs your ass - you know how to grin back naughtily and act all slutty for him just the right amount, so that he gets a hard-on the next time he sees you, but then knows fully well that you're not having sex unless you call him for it. Or when, you see him lurking at the bar, a specimen that you're not particularly ptoud to have bedded, so after the initial spurt of nausea, you turn smartly away and don't let it spoil your evening.
But what about when you're walking down the street, just a couple of blocks away from your office, and coming towards you from the other end, is this guy whom you had sex with ages ago...? I disovered the other week that the Antiques Store next to my office building is owned by one such ONS, whom we shall label Snooty Antiques Guy.
Now I met SAG first at a party thrown by my friend the Travel Agent, and while it was clear that he was pretty hot (one of those rare Parsi boys who visit the gym regularly and are bestowed with bulging ripplying muscles), it was also clear that he had a major attitude problem. The man hung around with Page 3 types, and strictly Page 3 types - and possessed none of the humility that Travel Agent does, even though he hangs around with the same people. But then, there's nothing really to break down your self-inflicted class barriers than a good horny spell, and so many weeks later when I encountered SAG in a gay chatroom, he figured that at least I knew Travel Agent and wasn't a complete pariah... and so he came over.
No use in lying: it was an excellent bonk! *grin*
But, predictably enough, he never called back, and neither did I. And even though, I may have asked Travel Agent about SAG's whereabouts a coupla times later after the bonk, it was purely out of carnal curiosity. SAG was firmly swept under the let's-not-talk-about-this carpet.
Until I see him on the sidewalk in front of my office the other week.
Clearly, he recognized me, even as I did him, and though both of us were a bit shocked at first, we quickly pulled the nonchalance blinds back up, masters of the game that we both are, and strolled past each other. Four, five, six paces, and then I discreetly turn back to see him enter the antique store next to my office, and that's when he had also stopped to hazard a glance back at me. He disappeared inside then, and I walked on, and that's when I remembered him saying, many moons ago, how he was into old furniture restoration and antiques. When I saw him a second time, smoking outside the door with some assisstant, it was quite amusing, really, to realise that I now work next door to a very snooty ONS. *chuckle*
***
And then, there're the times when you bump into someone at the GB party whom you never really expected to or wanted to. In my case, it was another snooty specimen, Pansy School Friend, with whom I was all pally straight through my eighth and tenth standards. We formed a trio, PSF, another guy and myself. My parents hated PSF, because they felt he was responsible for some of my effeminate actions - permit me to giggle here awhile - but I resolutely stuck on with him, even though he was rather offhand with me, and kept on going gaga over the other guy in our trio. That was when he kept on saying that CT looked stupid in the school tie, and wasn't as good looking as himself and the other guy.
Many, many, many years later - my, how the tables have turned. CT has lost oodles of weight since those Puppy Fat Years, and dances like a complete diva/dervish at GB parties. And PSF stands like a lecherous old swine, with a big bumpy paunch sticking straight out, waiting to hit on hotties like me.
*grin* I love how deliciously evil fate can be.
Though I'm fairly certain that it is PSF at these parties, I haven't ever gone over and reintroduced myself. I think I saw a start of recognition from him, when we made eye contact briefly, but I turned around quickly then and dragged my drink (and my arm candy) to the dance floor.
No point saying hello to the ugly people, as SnowWhite's Stepmother would have said. ;-)
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