Date: Tue, 27 Nov 2012 09:01:10 -0800 (PST)
From: Anthony Palazzo <apalazzo198@yahoo.com>
Subject: vintage thrills 4. Virgin Opportunities

Virgin Opportunities

I traveled to the Virgin Islands several times during the 1970s and 80s.
Since I was usually there on business, I was careful not to party very
much.  Gay life was kind of subdued there anyway.  If you know St. Thomas,
then you know there are basically two streets in the center of town, a
front street and a back street, each extending only a short distance.
Well, on the back street there is a gay bar.  Or at least there was twenty
five years ago.  I heard about it, and went to check it out on one
trip. There were two levels to this bar, an upper mixed tourist bar, and a
dance-bar below.  I never got downstairs, but while drinking at the
upstairs bar, I met a young guy who turned out to be an American sailor.

The sailor was very friendly, and after a while it began to occur to me
that maybe he thought that we would be having sex.  I could hardly believe
it, because he was at least twenty years younger than I and great
looking. He was compact, maybe 5'8'' or so, with dark hair, and a wide
smile.  He was not in uniform but was wearing tight cotton shorts and a
tank top.  I was in an extremely careful stage at this point, and would
mainly visit gay bars for the ambiance, and to be with gay people.  I
wasn't looking for sex, was actually afraid to have sex with strangers, and
I almost always went back to my hotel alone.  During my travels there were
a few exceptions to this cautious behavior, and I have written about some
of them in other episodes.  But they were the exception.  Usually I was
strong enough to resist temptation, and would remain on the fringes of gay
life, just peering in from the outside.

This sailor tried my resolve mightily.  His easy manner and terrific looks
made it hard for me not to think of us together sexually.  But what would
he want with me?  Is he some kind of hustler?  Or worse, one of those guys
who attack and rob gays?  Well, it is true that there isn't much to choose
from here.  A sailor with a few hours of shore leave.  There are maybe
eight or ten people in the bar.  The downstairs dance-bar hasn't opened
yet.  The sailor is touching my arm, and once in a while, he puts a hand on
my bare knee (I am also wearing shorts.)  I am enjoying this and return the
familiarity, with light touches as we exchange stories and laugh.  He tells
me that the guys on his ship do not know that he is gay, and it is
sometimes hard for him to get away without his buddies from the ship.  He
usually manages to find some excuse though, and goes off alone in search of
a gay spot in many of the ports where his ship docks.  Now, he is pleased
that he found a gay beach and a gay bar on St. Thomas.  He spent the
afternoon at the gay beach and looks forward to returning there.  I tell
him that I am not looking for a partner for the evening, just so he doesn't
get any ideas.  (Why did I say that?  Asshole !  Kind of presumptuous and
insulting.  Well, I guess that the electricity in the air between us was
making me nervous and I had to put an end to the possibility of anything
happening.)

He smiles an easy smile, and touches me on the leg, leaving his hand there.
I get suspicious.  What is going on here?  Why is he pressing this, when I
just told him I'm not interested?  But he's not.  He's just saying goodby.

"Well, then I think that I'll go downstairs and check that place out.  It
should be open by now."  And soon he's gone.

I sit at the bar and wonder what just happened.  I have another drink,
observe the passing scene and then drift outside.  It is about an hour or
so after the sailor and I had parted.  On the street I see my sailor
friend, weaving drunkenly, accompanied by another man.  The guy he's with
is not attractive, younger than me but not in the same league as the
sailor.  I think that the sailor doesn't realize what a prize he is.  We
greet each other, and then they go off together.


Not ready to call it a night, I try another place in town that I hear is
"mixed."  It is a hotel bar, but very casual with an easygoing native
feel. I order a drink and am soon joined by one of the most beautiful men
I've ever seen.  Or maybe just my quintessential type.  If you remember Tab
Hunter when he was very young, like in "Damn Yankees," you can get a
picture of the type.  But better.  Or does anybody remember Troy Donahue,
another film star from the past? Well, like him, but better.  A little of
the swagger of Paul Newman, and the pretty-boy charm of Christopher Atkins,
the kid who was in "The Blue Lagoon."  A little bit like each of them.  But
better. A combination of all of them, plus the naughtiness of those
gorgeous looking California beach boys sometimes featured in gay porn
videos.


So anyway, it's a stand-up bar, and we're standing there and talking, and I
ask him what he does. It's hard to concentrate on what he is saying; I am
so dazzled by his good looks.  His sun streaked blond hair is falling
tousled over his forehead.  His perfect teeth are smiling at me from his
movie star caliber face.  I look down, feeling a little flustered.  But
what's this?  He's not wearing any shoes!  Well, it is a very casual
native-type bar.  But his feet are not only bare they are filthy.  I mean
really black as though he was working in a coal mine.  I study him more
carefully.  His facial perfection distracted me from the fact that he is
wearing dirty white pants, with frayed bottoms, and his t shirt is faded
and torn.


He is giving me a long answer to my question about what he does for a
living.

"Well, I do a little teaching.  I teach scuba and snorkeling.  And
sometimes I fix boats.  And sometimes I work part-time as a cook at a beach
restaurant. And so I like , uh, manage...And I do a little, uh, hustling,
you know, ...sometimes, if the right person comes along.  Just once in a
while, you know, when I need some extra bread."

Tony, get the fuck out of here.  You are in serious danger of emptying your
pockets for the most gorgeous guy you will ever meet.

"Umm, ya know, it's been great talkin' to you, but I'm beat.  Gotta go
now. Take care, pal."

"Oh, sure, babe.  I'm here a lot, if you change your mind."  Eyes sparkle,
teeth sparkle, and I swallow hard and turn tail to get out of there.  Well,
why should I pay for it, when I could have had that good looking sailor for
nothing, I'm thinking.  Anyway, I'll have some nice fantasy images when I
jerk off in my lonely hotel bed tonight.


The following night I'm back at the first bar.  It's much more crowded than
the previous night. There are four or five guys, all obviously friends,
hanging near the end of the bar where I sit.  They laugh and joke and goof
with each other.  One guy has his arms around another from the rear, and is
pretend dry humping him. The humpee leans back into his friend's crotch,
encouraging him, but in a fun, not a lustful way.  I order a drink, and all
of the guys are looking at me.  A new face in town.  Not accustomed to this
degree of attention or scrutiny, I am feeling self-conscious and
uncomfortable.  I try to look invisible, and stare down toward the other
end of the bar.  After a drink, I am less uncomfortable, and I begin to
return some of the stares I'm getting.  Can't believe that this crowd is
interested in me; there musn't be much "turnover" of new meat on this
island I'm thinking.  Maybe I'm imagining it; maybe they're looking at
somebody else, or maybe my fly is open, or maybe... no at least two of the
guys are definitely cruising me.  One of them is about 30 years old,
overweight, and has a cute round pink face. He is wearing tight khaki
shorts that he shouldn't be wearing.  The second one is older, medium
height and weight and ordinary looking.  He's maybe 40 years old.  The
older one turns to a third guy in the group and whispers something.  All
three look over at me, and laugh.  This is starting to piss me off.  But it
wasn't a mean type laugh, so I don't really think that they are making fun
of me.  I walk over to them, and ask what's funny.  I ask it with a smile
on my face like I just want to laugh too.  The heavy guy looks embarrassed
as his older friend explains to me that he had said that Hank had the hots
for "the Turk."  It turns out that the group was trying to guess my
nationality, and two of them had agreed that I look like I might be a
middle eastern type of some sort.  I love middle eastern food, the chubby
one had said, which provoked the earlier laughter.  And so they had taken
to referring to me as "the hot Turk."  I was flattered.  I sure had never
caused such a commotion in a NY bar, or any other place that I could
recall.  As the night wears on, I get to know all of them a little bit, and
could have probably had my pick.  Yeah, these guys were pretty desperate.
I like the heavy guy and we sort of pair off.  He is an actor of sorts, and
has been in "a number of films, in small parts."  His most recent claim to
fame is that he was in a crowd scene in the Bette Midler film, The Rose.  I
like Midler, and I saw the film, and so I'm interested in hearing all of
the behind the scenes stuff about the making of the film.  Hank tells me
that it was a fun experience and that Bette was nice to everybody, even the
extras like him.

Hank and I hold hands and pet and grope a little, discreetly.  When it
comes down to the moment of truth, I chicken out as usual.  I say goodnight
to all the guys and head back to my hotel room, alone, yeah, like a virgin.

Before undressing for bed, I look at myself in the mirror. Damn, I look
pretty good.  I had finished work early that day and got some more beach
time in.  I had a healthy looking dark tan, with a rosy glow to it (like a
hot Turk) and my white native-style Guyabera shirt, (two buttons open), and
white cotton slacks, accented the contrast, making me look even darker.  I
caressed my chest as I removed my shirt and blew myself a kiss in the
mirror. I laughed at my shenanigans as I bathed in the lovely warmth of
feeling attractive.  Maybe those few days in St. Thomas was "my prime," the
time when I looked my best.  Or maybe because I felt that I was attractive,
I behaved in a happy and content way, adding to the attractiveness.
Anyway, I've never felt quite like that again.