My bestest friend GayBoy (Mr.Tits.Pervert, in his less refined times) used to work in a gay bar. A bartender friend of his there is a stellar accountant, my accountant. But the only time he takes files and submissions is when he’s manning the bar at the club.

Well, I’m not all that fond of the club, having inadvertently wandered in for “Bear” night in the past and leather night with all old, sagging gay men, such as it was. I suckered GB into joining me for the trip. We were comped some beers and noshing on Chex mix when I noticed the bull dyke with the neck problem.

Neck problem? I mean “making eyes” problem.

She’d do this unnatural neck stretch and cock her head to angle right on me, at which point she’d flash this “fuck me now, and hard” kind of look at me. Needy, hungry, or something. More a something than an anything.

Well, I just don’t go that way. Maybe I should have said so, but I’d just come from a lovely visit with The Guy and was more interested in being silly with my friend than I was with dealing with the hassle from this stereotypical chick. (Badly fitted cargo pants, wife-beater tank top, black square-ish jacket, and a crew-cut. I mean, really. Can we have a touch, a smidge of style, anyone? A little gloss? Maybe just any of the things I’m presently doing to myself that you find so, oh, I dunno — engaging?)

Besides, I was angled away from her, though I could see her in the mirror, but I was facing GB. Finally, The Accountant comes back after slinging a few beers.

“Looks like you have a fan.”

GB launched into a description (none too quietly, neither) of all the various come-ons and do-me-nows the chick had been vibing my way in her rather “I’m on top” kind off way.

But then I turn to the Numbers Guy and I say, “But I like cock!” Right before then, the music cut out.

Sigh, as always, my timing’s impeccable. I have one of these voices that can resonate, and right then, it DID.

A few short minutes later, my admirer scored herself a chick and they cut to the exit, but not without my admirer shooting me yet another look, this one laced with a hint of “Go fuck yourself.”

This is reported to me by my dear friend, but had I seen the look I might have divulged that I’d already been brought to orgasm twice earlier, so I was not needing of any self-fucking on this particular night. But, sadly, I missed my chance.

I’m sure she was nice enough and all, but as I told GayBoy, even if I were a lesbian, she’d never be my type. Nope, I was always more into the Jordis Unga type chick, or the no-granola, but-turn-up-the-Marley surfer girl type. I mean, like, if I had to choose. ;)

But, really. I like cock. Especially when it’s eager to see me. I’m just an old-fashioned gal. What can I say?