Chapter Six - Mike S.

Mike was younger than me by a few years and he was incredibly hot. He was in a band. Mike was probably 6' 3" and built like a Greek god, which wasn't too far off; he WAS Greek. With a shaved head full-sleeve tattoos, he looked like a bad boy and played the part well.

Our group of friends used to go to this nasty pool hall once a week. I wasn't good, but I was learning. Mike was the best player of all of us, and he wasn't one to let us forget it.

It all started the one night I finally got good enough to start kicking his ass at the game. It fired him up like crazy. I kept winning - not every game, but more than he was - and maybe he felt the need to assert his manhood or something, but I got the benefit from it. The sexual tension had been building for awhile. We all knew it but, let's be honest...there was always a lot of sexual tension between me and someone or another. :-/

At some point, he grabbed my hand, and began pulling me off my barstool, saying we needed to go outside and talk for a minute. We left the others to the game and I quickly found out that "talking" was not an accurate statement.

He literally threw me into our friend's car, jumped on top of me, and started kissing me. He was forceful, stripping off my clothes and tossing them all over the car. We were in a small parking lot, full of cars and people, and it just didn't matter. It was hot, sweaty, and passionate. I can remember the feel of the tapestry upholstery on my body; the slight dusty smell of the classic car's backseat. And his body against mine. Oh, GOD, his body...

Sidenote: If you've never had sex in the back of a 1960s-era car, you simply must. The seats are big and the springs give a certain sensation that you just can't get anywhere else...

Anyway, I could have probably gone all night from the sheer momentum of what had been building. With each movement, his chest sliding up and down against mine, I thought I was going to die - in the good way. Everyone knows how this kind of short narrative ends: with Stillie getting louder and louder, followed by sharp gasps of breath that just don't seem to fill her lungs fast enough.

There was no tender moment afterwards, only the realization (and huge sense of pride following the discovery) that our friends were (respectfully?) standing on the sidewalk one row away from the car. We got dressed and Mike stepped out of the car. I sat in the backseat, trying to adjust my boot laces, and he stood there looking at me. "You know we're not done...right?" All I could do was brush a little hair out of my face and nod.

Lionel (it was his car) walked up and carefully inspected the backseat. "Do I really want my friends sitting back here?" he asked, laughing. I guess nobody cared, because they all started piling in.

"We got kicked out because Richard knocked the cue ball off the table and didn't want to put any money in the jukebox," he said. "Besides, they're closing down in twenty minutes, so it's not like it matters. Everybody ready to get back to the house and drink a few?" Lionel was a lucky guy. His mother worked nights as a nurse, so his apartment was always our drinking spot. So, away we went.

Mike was attentive the rest of the evening, so it wasn't like he was embarrassed or anything - which was my first thought because, hell...he was one of those guys that every girl wanted to fuck, so what the hell was he doing with me? - and we hung out until about 4, when Lionel was nice enough to drive both Mike and me home. With no words, Mike wrote his number on a gas station receipt as he got out. He got to his door, turned around, and hollered, "Call me. We should get together."

Guys play the game, and so do I. I waited almost a week before I called him. It made my heart soar when I heard him say, "Well...I was wondering if you were ever going to call me." I laughed, because it's not like he needed me to get any. The tone of his voice hinted at a bit of insecurity, which made me giggle.

The rest of the sexual relationship isn't worth mentioning. I mean, it was always good, but nothing as exciting or as memorable as the parking lot thing. Eventually, I realized I was too insecure to carry on with a guy who could have his pick of just about any girl - and I'm sure he still did anyway - and I just sort of faded away. He didn't try to follow, which made me realize it was probably for the best.

Where is he now? Still playing in a band. He's made a few solo albums, traveled a bit, done a lot of collaborations with a lot of talented artists. I'm guessing he still has a real name, but he has a stage name that he uses professionally and on Facebook. I found him through a friend and sent him a request; we've had a few exchanges, but it's been nothing important. He's doing well, pretty successful as a musician, and I'm happy for him. In case you're wondering, he's still incredibly drool-inducing.

Next up: Zack P.

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