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by Stef Smulders
‘No, no, I’m not doing that!’
‘Come on, Don’t be so narrow-minded, John.’
‘Going to a joint like that, frequented by dirty old men only? No way!’
‘Nonsense, these places are hot again. Even younger people love it.’
‘It’s the anonymity that puts me off. Sex without intimacy doesn’t do it for me.’
I had the same discussion with my more free-spirited friends repeatedly as they tried to convince me, now that I was single again, to go out more and get...
Without success: I refused to go.
But after months without a decent lay, my animal instincts got the upper hand and the anonymity of the affair now seemed to be a plus. Although I would still have to enter the bar and expose myself to the spying looks of other customers.
Fortunately, the bar I after a lot of deliberation chose was still empty when I entered. The barman gave me a professional, neutral glance. The glass of beer he put in front of me I drank in one gulp. I couldn’t sit still and decided to take a peek in the room at the end of the bar, as there was no risk of encountering another ‘guest’.
Inside the room, I stopped in my tracks, as the darkness blinded me. The scent of sweat and other animal odours was penetrating. Only when my eyes got used to the dusky atmosphere, I distinguished things present in the room: benches, appliances, ropes, shiny metallic objects. I was afraid and excited at the same time and, strangely enough, the fear stimulated the excitement.
Then something moved. A silhouette, a shadow. What the f...? There was another customer present after all! I tried to run off, but my feet seemed glued to the floor.
It was only when the anonymous person stood next to me that I could discern some of his features: he was small, had a large moustache and wore a cap. His torso was nude, and he seemed to have a tattoo on his right lower arm. He took hold of me and started kissing me wildly. The slimy tongue that penetrated my mouth was pleasantly salty, and his breath smelled of masculine tobacco. His rough beard scraped my skin, which sent the shivers down my spine. Then a hand grasped my crotch. Too fast! I thought I will be cumming too soon! But he let loose again just in time. It was clear that he had a lot of experience. He uttered a satisfied growl and unfastened my belt. Moments later my pants dropped, and two hands grabbed my buttocks. Wet hot lips kissed my bellybutton and worked their way downwards. In a single easy move, my underwear was torn down and my erect penis entered the mouth of my sex partner. My mind exploded, and while I threw my head backwards, I emitted a cry of excitement. A soft tongue started to massage my glans in a tantalizing way.
Oh, God! I forgot the protection! And I had been so determined to practice safe sex only. I grabbed the packet of condoms I had put in my shirt pocket before I left home. Too late: my hot seamen already squirted in my benefactor’s mouth. He rose, kissed me intensely and moved off in the dark. Who was he? Would I be able to recognize him outside of this room? Would I want to?
I stumbled outside. The bar was still empty. I wanted to leave straight away but my legs felt weak and I had to sit down for a while to regain my strength. The barman served me another beer. And while his look was still neutral, I thought to see a small ironic quiver in the corner of his mouth. I gulped the beer in one go again and was about to leave when an old, wrinkled man arrived from the back of the bar. He wore a sailor’s cap and a black leather jacket hung loosely around his bronzed, shrunk upper body that must have been a muscular torso in a distant past. A blue packet of tobacco protruded from his pocket.
‘Hi Leo,’ the barman said while nodding in my direction. ‘Finally, a satisfying night for you again.’
The sailor took the stool next to me and put his shrivelled hand on my thigh. The tattoo on his arm turned out to be an anchor with two big, erect penises in place of the usual hooks. When I looked up in horror, the man beamed, displaying a toothless mouth. A slimy string of spittle stretched itself between palate and tongue, to snap soundlessly and in slow motion a little later.
I jumped from my stool and ran off. In my hurry, I bumped into someone who was passing outside.
‘Hi, John, what a coincidence!’
Roy, my ex. ... him.
‘Eh, yes, hi.’
‘But... no, don’t tell me you went to the Dark Horse, did you?’
He sounded slightly shocked.
‘No, no, well ... yes, I did.’
‘Jesus, John! Nobody goes to that bar anymore! Only Leo, but who wants him? Wanna know what they call him nowadays?’
‘Well...’
‘Captain Chlamydia.
Stef Smulders is a Dutchman who moved to Italy with his husband Nico in 2008 to start a bed-and-breakfast (Villa I Due Padroni www.duepadroni.it) in the Oltrepò Pavese wine region south of Milan. In 2016 he published ‘Living in Italy: the Real Deal’, a collection of short stories about his life as an expat. He now specializes in funny flash fiction and short stories.
Website: http://italiaanse-toestanden.duepadroni.it/italy-expat-memoir-book