The Silent Hustler 
          We had no success by the third bar. I’d rejected the  handful of guys who showed the least bit of interest, my eye comparing them  with Joe and finding them sorely inadequate. Joe impatiently upped the ante.  “Let’s head to Lot’s Wife. They have a back room and the best salted margaritas  in the free world. We’ll find a bedmate for you there. Or at least something  for your big brother.” 
           Joe  led us past the line waiting to get in, smiled at the man on the door. He was  greeted with a bear hug and a soft kiss. “Howdy, Joe.”  
           “What’s  it like tonight?” 
           “Wall  of flesh in there. Why don’t you angels stay out here and keep me company.” 
          “Sorry,  love, we can’t dally. Lover boy here needs a cock up his arse.” 
          I  flushed and tried to fade into the pavement, but the baldheaded guy had already  dismissed me. “No minnows for me. You know I like my men with some meat on  their bones.” His hand groped Joe’s cock; I flushed with jealousy. 
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