I often wondered how many of the guys I served in the bar I'd actually slept with and couldn't remember. There was a guy once who came into the bar, smiled at me and said hi.
'Hi,' I replied. The music was on quite loud, so I leaned across the bar to get his order. He leaned in and put his lips on mine to kiss me.
I jerked back.
'What do you think you're doing?'
There were guys who came in and tried it on with me, so I assumed he was one of them.
'What's wrong?' he said.
I was surprised that he couldn't even see that what he'd done was wrong.
'Are you kidding me?' he said. 'Milo, it's me.'
I shrugged.
'You told me to come in and see you,' he said.
'When?' I asked.
'Last night after we fucked.'
I'd left in the same way that morning, by sneaking out without saying anything. Apparently I'd told him where I worked the night before.
I shrugged again. 'I'm sorry, I don't remember...'
He shook his head in disgust and stormed out. I couldn't say I blamed him.
I wondered how many others there had been who didn't say anything. Maybe some didn't even remember me.
YOU ARE READING
Twink
General FictionMilo is living his best life. He works at a bar in Manchester's gay village. He spends his evenings at work chatting to hot guys and having drinks bought for him. He's his boss's favourite, so can get away with anything and is given all the best shi...
