Bawm Chikka

Friday night.  I drove back from West, the bar/restaurant at the Angeleno Hotel.  It was only 9:30, and people were still arriving, but with the exception of the birthday girl herself, I knew only one other person.  And even though I don’t want to say he was boring, I would say he was not interesting.  I think describing someone as boring is pretty shitty.  I’d rather have someone hate me than think of me as boring.  So no, he wasn’t boring…just not interesting. 

Anyway, I’d gotten there at 8:00.  Alone.  My friend was supposed to come with me.  He told me he would earlier in the week.  He told me he had no other plans, and he knew her just as well as I.  And yet there I was, left faking interest as not boring guy droned on and on about stuff I can’t for the life of me remember. 

So I left.  I left, and on the drive home, I called my friend: “Dude, you should have come with.  Tons of hot chicks, just your type.” (And yes, big homo that I am, I am still quite fluent in the dialect of American Straight.)

“Sorry bro.  I just didn’t want to drive that far, and my buddy wanted to hang out.  So we just grabbed sushi and now we’re back at my place.  You should come over.  We’re just drinking beers and later we’re gonna hop in the hot tub.”

Bawm chikka bawm bawm.

Well, not really.

But come on now.  My buddy.  His friend.  Beer.  A hot tub.  Visions of hot man sex danced in my head.  And admittedly, it wasn’t the first time I’d had little man on man fantasies about this particular friend.  He’s hot—tall, blonde surfer boy, athletic.  He does Iron Mans for god’s sakes. 

And so against my better judgement, against my body screaming to just go to bed, I made the thrity minute trek to his house. 

He answered the door with a beer in hand and immediately introduced me to his friend: “This is my buddy Van.  Sorry, dude, but rather than bullshitting around the issue, I’m just gonna out you right now.  Van’s gay, so when we change to get into the hot tub, you’ll know why he’s staring, but make sure you put on a good show.”

Bawm chikka bawm bawm.

Well again, not really.  His friend?  Not so hot.  But again the thought of my friend,  beers, the hot tub?  I must have been smiling because just then he put his arm around my shoulder and said, “This is what I love about Van.  You can fuck with him, and he doesn’t get all bent out of shape.”

I punched him in the arm.  Fucker.

As we drank and waited for the hot tub to warm up, I was given a tour of the house.  It was a new acquisition, and I’m sure the invite was as much to hang out as it was to show off.  And he was justified in doing so.  It was his baby.

And it was pretty awesome.  The back yard was outfitted with an outdoor kitchen/bar area.  There was a pool with a hot tub and outdoor speakers.  The house itself had four bedrooms and three baths.  And the master suite was impressive—a remote controlled fireplace, huge walk in closet, and the bathroom?  It was awesome, just the shower area itself was great—plenty of room for a small party with dual oversized shower heads and a bench with heavy, clear glass doors that all new showers seem to have nowadays.  I admit it.  I was a little jealous.

We finally got into the hot tub.  I had borrowed a pair of board shorts.  His friend, bigger than either of us, just got in with his boxer briefs, and we stayed in…with our beers…until we were pruney.  At 2:00, his friend decided he should go home to his wife, leaving me and my friend alone in the hot tub.

Bawm chikka…yeah, not so much.

We spent another hour in the tub just shooting the shit and just having a great time before deciding it was time to get out.

“Dude, you probably shouldn’t drive home right now.  Just crash here.”

Bawm…nope, still nothing.

We hung out in the kitchen for a bit before I realized that the chlorine was making me itch like a motherfucker. 

“Go rinse that shit off.”

I asked which shower I should use, and after explaining that none of the other showers had towels or soap or anything, he walked me to the master and said “Just use this  one”, opening the clear glass door and turning on the shower for me. 

Bawm chikka bawm bawm.  Only…not so much.

OK, this was a little weird.  But I didn’t question it.  He had left, but had left the bathroom door wide open.  I started to shower for a few seconds before deciding, fuck it, tossing the board shorts aside.  I didn’t give a shit if he could see me in all my glory. 

“Turn the other shower head on.  I’m coming in.”

Didn’t question it.  Just did as I was told.  We stood there back to back, me fully naked and he in his board shorts. 

“No, don’t use that soap.  This one’s better.”  He was a little too chatty during the shower.  And he clearly wasn’t in any rush to get out.  “This shampoo’s really good too.”

Again I just did what I was told, trying to be cool.  Not staring.  Just keeping my face toward the shower head and away from him.

“Hey, no homo or anything, but this is stupid.  I’m losing my shorts.” And with the unmistakable sound of Velcro ripped open, his shorts were tossed to the side.

Bawm chikka bawm bawm.

But yet again, it was like the worst porn ever.  I didn’t want to make a move.  I didn’t want to scare him away, and so we continued chit chatting and rinsing for far longer than anyone would consider necessary. 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the porn that was playing in my head out of my head and despite being mildly buzzed, I became excited with nothing to conceal it. 

He noticed and gave out a loud chuckle, “Ha, dude what’s this?” he asked,  reaching down for a grab.

Bawm chikka bawm bawm. 

And seriously, this is a situation only I can fuck up.  I took it as a green light to make a move, so I returned the grab.  He didn’t freak out.  He was mellow, but made his intentions clear: “Hey, I’m sorry.  I’m totally not trying to be a tease or anything, but well you know I’m not gay. “

We finished up after a few minutes as though nothing of circumstance had happened.  Neither of us bothered with clothing or towels or anything.  We just ended up a safe distance from each other, talking on his king sized bed. 

At 4:00, he asked a one word question: “So…?”

Bawm chikka bawm bawm.

Well…sorta.