A Thursday evening, a little chilly, I walked on the Church Street, the epicentre of Toronto’s gay village. The street was not particularly busy. I looked around to try to spot any smiles. Although I had learned that not all smiles meant sex, they were still important first signs. Those naive days! When I first arrived in the Village, I translated those smiles into sexual invitations. Those passers-by were merely friendly.
I was on my way to the Buddies in Bad Times Theatre for the Naked Theatre, an event organized by a local gay nudist group. The interesting aspect of this event was the performers would have some clothes on while the audience was REQUIRED TO BE NAKED, except socks and shoes - for safety and hygiene purposes. I had been to many naked events and considered myself a naturalist, but the naked theatre would be something new to me.
Upon arrival, there were about thirty to forty people there already, loosely lining up. Within seconds, I noticed the guy in front of me was really handsome. I got a feeling he was in the wrong place. He probably had no clue what this Naked Theatre really was about. The advertisement on the local magazines was vague, possibly on purpose, about the fact that the audience would be in the nude. I wondered how many would be mistakenly thinking that they would see a naked performance.
The admission started in no time. From some distance, I could see a lady there patiently asking each guest to see if he or she was aware of the nature of this event. No one bowed out. Then it’s time for the guy in front of me. The lady asked:
“Are you aware of the nature of the Naked Theatre?”
The guy asked, “What does that mean?”
The lady explained, “The audience will need to take off all the clothes except socks and shoes.”
The guy heisted for a fraction of a second, then said, “Let me think about that.”
“It’s not that difficult,” I said to him when he stepped aside.
I was right. He was in the wrong place. Too bad, he looked quite juicy.
I had attended a few naked events in Toronto. I knew the rules and procedures. Once getting in, I took off my clothes, putting everything into a plastic bag they gave to me. I put some money in my socks as usual. As I was about to check in my belongings, I saw that juicy guy who lined up in front of me now standing not too far from me, looking around with a plastic bag in hand. I felt a need to be an ambassador to make him comfortable in the unfamiliar territory. Or as a more experienced fellow to mentor a nervous novice. He didn’t seem to have any experience of this type of naked events. I also wondered whether it was my comments that encouraged him to come in so I felt somewhat responsible to befriend him. Besides, I was really attracted to this guy.
“It’s great that you’ve decided to join us.” I approached him naked with a smile.
“I decided to give it a try. Maybe it will be fun.”
“I thinks so too. Although I have attended many naked events, I have never seen anything like this.”
I explained to him about the rules and procedures of getting naked and checking in our bags. He thought it was brilliant to put some money in socks to buy drinks later. Our conversation carried on itself. I knew he was new to Toronto. His company sent him here. I treated him the way I would do in a social context, not in a way I usually would do in other naked events where I would be bold to try to get a piece of meat. He didn’t mention his family. I didn’t ask. He didn’t probe my marital status either. In my own experience, straight people in Taiwan would simply ask “Are you married?” in the first 5 minutes. I didn’t know if they truly wanted to know or simply had nothing else to talk about. Or more likely, it’s one way to figure out your status.
I saw a few familiar faces. One of them had been hinting to get together with me some time but I had been always able to find a way to avoid closer contact. I nodded to greet them but I did not go to talk with them. I accompanied my protégé to find two seats together. We sat side by side, but I held myself not to touch his leg with mine, a trick I normally would do. There was no single hint that he might be gay. His blue eyes were penetrating, though, when chatting with me. He said he was glad to have someone like me talking with him so he felt at ease. He admitted he was a little nervous earlier.
Our conversation was halted when a guy came onto the stage, greeting the audience. He briefly mentioned about the nature of the event and a brief introduction to the two plays for this evening. Then the lights were off. And on again. A few performers started moving on the stage. It’s something about family struggles. It’s sort of boring, and the performers were fully clothed. Luckily I had the guy next to me. He made the boring play pleasantly bearable.
Finally the first part of the show was over. The lights were on. During the intermission, we sat in our seats and chatted as we did not see a place to buy drinks. We talked about the story briefly, then back to my story of immigrating to Canada. While chatting with him, I got a chance to have a close look at his body, moderately hairy chest, skin tanned seemingly just back from a vacation in a tropical place, and of course, his manhood, but I always quickly moved my eyes back to meet his. I constantly felt some sort of urge down there, so I placed my hands on top of my manhood.
The second show was a much better one. Four guys wearing only towers on their waists. It’s about the behaviors and cultures in the bath houses. By this time I had had quite a few experiences in those places so I found the play true and funny. As time went by, I noticed that his leg accidentally touched mine a few times, but I wouldn’t dare to interpret that he was knocking at my door. Frankly, I thought he was straight. Eventually, our legs were sort of “connected” but I felt it was quite natural as I began feeling comfortable of this kind of closeness with him. At least, before the show ended, I would have a moment of joy, feeling connected to this guy, through legs to his heart. I knew it would be great to go to bed with him. It made me feel wonderful just touching his leg. On the other hand, I had to cover my thing with my hands from time to time so that the half erected one wouldn’t be seen. I feel in love.
The show was about to be over. I had been thinking what I would do, just say goodbye, nice to meet you? I felt at least I would have to try to see this man again. Being rejected is better than never trying. Meanwhile, he looked so innocent. I somehow didn’t want to ruin a possible friendship.
The lights were on again. A guy came onto the stage to thank everyone’s participation. The remarks were brief. It’s time to go. As people started to leave their chairs, we both remained seated. Suddenly words came out of my mouth without thinking:
“Maybe we can have coffee sometime.” Perhaps those words had been programmed in my brain for some time so that they just came out flawlessly.
He had a smile in his face, “I was just about to ask you the same thing. How about tonight? You know, I came in because of you.”
He placed a hand on my leg. My manhood suddenly hardened. He came in for me! I saw desire in his eyes. “Sure. Where would you like to go? There are a few coffee shops on the street. Or you can come to my place too. My home is not far.” I placed my hand on his leg too. He smiled with a relief as my touch might ease his anxiety too.
“My car is parked on the street. Why don’t we go to my place? It’s about 10-minute drive. I can take you home later.”
“That sounds good to me.”
My heart was pumping. I knew a feast was on the table.
Within no time, we arrived his home. He drove his car into the driveway. This neighborhood had a few Victorian houses. His home was on the upper half of an house which was part of a row house.
After climbing to the second floor, I entered his living room. Wow, it’s a loft. I had a thing for loft living, high ceiling, exposed beams, and a lot of concrete surface.
“Welcome to my home. I just moved in last week.”
“I love your place. I always dream of living in a loft one day.”
He made some tea while we further exchanged our background information. I glanced at his place. Red wall in the kitchen and natural bricks exposed in the living room, wooden furniture, a mix of modern and old. The place was not big but cozy. We had our tea, but we didn’t waste too much time in having our tea.
“Now let me show you the bedroom.”
Wow, the real show of the night is about to begin! I followed him.
The bedroom was located in the upper floor, big enough to put a queen-sized bed, closets, and a desk for home office. The space was open. I could overlook the living room and the kitchen downstairs.
We did not say anything further. We simply stood there, looking into each other’s eyes. Then we had our first hug, our cheeks touching each other’s. My manhood was awaken as I recalled how it felt touching his leg. We kissed lightly. He looked at me, eyes penetrating. I knew he liked me. I liked him too.
We undressed for each other. Finally we were naked in his bed. A dream came true.
“I am a little nervous. I am not really experienced,” he confessed as I was approaching him.
“That’s fine. I just like to be with you,” I gave him some assurance.
“I have a wife,” he said. Oh, how romantic! I just started fantasizing if he could be a partner material.
“We are separate now. I came out to her not long ago, and we decided to keep our marriage, for our kids, and for my career.”
He furthered, “I am lucky. She understood.”
“Yes, you are lucky. Not all married men come out to their wife with such a result.”
I sealed our conversation with a kiss. This time, we had a French kiss. It’s a deep connection, to our naked hearts. My hands are all over him. I grabbed his meaty and juicy butt. He sighed. Perhaps he hadn’t had sex for a long time. He did not seem to be that novice, though, he responding to my touches skillfully, and eagerly too. He was gentle. We looked into each other’s eyes many times. He was really handsome, slightly overweight but not too much over, the skin tanned with some hair here and there.
We explored each other just like two pigs (no pun intended here) trying to find truffles. Finally we both found our volcano-like release. I didn’t know about him, but it’s good for me. I had been in a troubled one-way relationship with Drew for some time. This helped me forget about that guy and possibly this might lead to something romantically.
We stayed in bed for another while, caressing each other. It was getting late, and I really had to go. We agreed to meet another time.
While getting dressed, I saw a few pictures on his desk. That’s him when he was younger with seemingly his wife and two children. The younger he looked like Rock Hudson, maybe with a few more pounds. Yes, he looks like Rock Hudson. No wonder I found him so attractive.
“Has anyone told you that you look like Rock Hudson at his forties?”
“Me? No way.” He looked at the pictures, saying “That was a good time in my life.”
I did not want to further explore what he meant as time was getting late. He drove me home.
We saw each other a few more times in the following months. He seemed to travel a lot so that we were not able to meet as often as we would like. In the meantime, I was very preoccupied with Drew. However, I began to learn more about him, his family, and his work over the course. One day, he seemed very upset. He told me his elder son was dying, due to cancer.
“Can you imagine? He is only 25,” he said with tears in his eyes.
I found no words to comfort him, but took his head into my chest. I wrapped my arms around his head. He cried.
One day six months after we had met, I got a call from him. He asked to meet with me the coming Saturday.
He came to my place around five in the afternoon. He was passionate of making love to me, but I was reserved. I helped him reach his orgasm but I managed to stay cool. Drew had called earlier that he would like to see me later that evening and I wanted to keep my energy for Drew. I felt I could run a red-light district business.
We stayed in the bed for another while and he invited me to join dinner with him. We went to Byzantium for our drinks and supper. Over the dinner, he told me he was about to be transferred to Calgary next month. It was a surprise. He didn’t seem to have much choice to say no to this assignment either.
After supper, holding his wine glass, he said, “It’s strange. I feel I could have you again.”
“Are you serious?” Looking at his eyes, I knew he was not kidding.
He nodded.
“I am meeting a friend later tonight.” Finally the ugly truth had to be told.
“I don’t understand you. Really, I don’t.”
“But I do want to get naked with you again.” Sensing this might be our last time to see each other, I offered to calm down his fire of desire.
He smiled, slightly waving his head, but was delightfully accept my offer. I am definitely in the red -light district business.
A few times I thought of calling him after he moved to Calgary to ask if he was alright, but I chickened out every time. Finally, I lost track of him, but not that innocent look in front of the Buddies in Bad Times.
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