The Chocolate Moose was a quirky little building shaped like a chocolate chalet. You went to the window to order soft-serve ice cream, floats, shakes, hot dogs, sloppy joes, that sort of thing. No indoor dining, but there were a couple of picnic tables.
It was only a block from the apartment Viju and I shared during my second year in graduate school at Indiana University.
It was open until 2:00 am, so we often dropped by after cruising at Bullwinkle's, especially if we struck out (if we were successful, we took our hookups to Bob's Burgers instead).
The later it got, the better the sightseeing -- half-drunk fratboys pushing soft-serve cones into each other's faces, shirtless jocks licking on snow cones until their tongues turned blue.
In spite of the beefcake, there wasn't a lot of cruising going on.
1.Most of the customers were straight.
2. There weren't a lot of places to hold private conversations.
3. Once you're ready for ice cream, you're probably too emotionally raw to handle a hookup.
But I have a good hookup story involving the Chocolate Moose.
Viju and I head out to Bullwinkle's, about five blocks from our apartment.
There's a boy pacing around the entrance, with that deliberate-but-nonchalant look of someone trying to get the nerve to go in.
He's very young, probably just 18 (which would make him five years younger than me), short, slim, pale, not my usual type, but very cute, with black hair, an oval face, very red lips, and a little blush in his cheeks.
We make eye contact. I start to say something like "It's not so bad inside," but Viju pushes me through the door.
"What's the matter? Didn't you think he was cute?"
"Oh, yes, definitely worth it! But I was worried -- he might be an undercover cop. The minute you say something sexy, bang! You're finished!"
We cruise for an hour or so, but no one comes to mind. Finally we leave.
On the way home, we pass the Chocolate Moose. The line is half a block long.
"Want ice cream?" Viju asks.
"No, I'm not waiting in a line that size! You go on. I'll see you at the house."
I leave Viju waiting in line, return to the apartment, and sit down to watch tv and read a book.
A half hour passes. Then 45 minutes. How long was that line, anyway?
Did Viju decide to go back to the bar? Did he get kidnapped? Should I go out looking?
Then I hear footsteps on the stairs. Viju comes in -- with the Freshman, still carrying his malt!
"This is Jerry," he says, his arm around the boy. "He's a freshman, planning to major in economics."
"I saw you at Bullwinkle's," I say, trying to be nonchalant. "So you finally went in?""Um...no...actually, we met at the Moose," Viju says. "We started talking in line, and...well, you know." He turns to the Freshman. "Meet my roommate, Boomer."
The Freshman looks at me. "Hi," he says softly.
"Do you need to go to the bathroom?"
He shakes his head.
"Then we'll just be going to bed. Goodnight."
Viju draws him into a kiss right in front of me, almost as if he is trying to make me jealous.
Arm in arm, they vanish (there was no sharing in those days). Soon I go to bed.
Our bedrooms are right next to each other, down a little hallway from the living room, and we always leave our doors open a crack for ventilation, so I hear everything that happens in Viju's room.
Usually it's fun, a lot of moaning and thumping and "Yeah, like that!" and "I'm getting close!", plus a glimpse of semi-tumescent penises as the hookups walk past my door to the bathroom to wash up afterwards. But tonight I feel left out and jealous. If only I had stopped for ice cream, the Freshman would be in my bed right now!
I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone climbing into bed next to me. The Freshman!
Naked, his tight smooth chest and skinny belly glowing in the pale light from the window, his penis average sized but beautifully shaped. I can't see his eyes. He must have gotten up to go to the bathroom, and accidentally picked the wrong door.
"Um...Viju's next door," I murmur.
He climbs atop me. He kisses my chest, my abs. His hand finds my penis. I stand, aroused. I feel his mouth and tongue.
Bed-switching would be quite common in West Hollywood, but I've never experienced it before.
Will Viju be outraged tomorrow morning? Will he accuse me of betraying him? Am I betraying him?
Tomorrow can take care of itself. I turn the Freshman over onto his back and finish by kissing him and thrusting between his legs.
See also: Bed-Hopping in Japan; The Ex-Con at the Ice Cream Stand
In case you were wondering, Viju was fine with it.
ReplyDeleteHahaha!
ReplyDelete