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Walking through to the bar seemed to last an age with men staring at me eyes all on me, at this point i feel a warm sensation on my left arse cheek "alright there sweet cheeks" it was a man who looked in his forties with a chiseld jaw and an unbutton shirt showing a small amount of curly chest hair, "yeah thanks im new" i said with a sound of worry and resentment in my voice. "well dont worry" he said "wele make sure your well looked after, wont we lads" a choir of YEAHs came from a group of burly looking men. I sat down feeling quite uncomfortable, "what does a young lad like your drink then", "erm id like a pint of John Smiths please" i said, he look concerned "how about a fine glass of yorkshire ale from the finest brewers", i thought for a while feeling more settled "yeah id love to try some of the local brew". And in a split second he whipped off his belt and pulled down his trousers to reveal a rather large pulsating erection, i knew imideatly what i was to do i opend my mouth. Packing wouldn’t have taken nearly as long if not interrupted several times by dry heaves. I saw his eyes as I squeezed my own closed. Not the eyes I cherished—the ones that studied me with a mixture of amazement and adoration—but the placating, angst-filled eyes. The pleading eyes. I never wanted to see those eyes again. I heard his voice as I ran the tap water to wash my face. Not the voice I cherished—the one that promised me all his tomorrows—but the appeasing, soothing voice. The ass-kissing voice drifting through a closed door. I never wanted to hear that voice again. I knew as soon as he came back into the living room that he was going to ask me to leave—to give him time to smooth things over—with that same voice. That voice, only turned toward me. It made me sick. I didn’t speak. Just nodded. I’ll go. He was apologetic and grateful. You’re making it worse, I wanted to shout. ‘I’ll call you later, baby.’ That word turned my stomach. Don’t bother… baby. I told him she’d know..
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