“Chance Encounters
 of the
Close Kind”

© 2010 by Anel Viz. All rights reserved.

 

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 15.  Wholly Moley

I suppose that when you’re that funny looking you need a grabber for a pick-up line.  The man had a pasty complexion, beady little round eyes, tiny ears that lay tight against his head, and almost no chin to speak of.  His skull sloped sharply backwards, and his short, fine gray hair covered it like a tight-fitting glove.  His long, twitchy nose looked as if it would come to point and then flared slightly at the tip.  He looked around warily to make sure nobody was listening, brought his lips close to my ear and whispered, “You’ve had plastic surgery.  I can tell.  Who’s your cosmetologist?  He did a fabulous job.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You are one of us, aren’t you?”

One of who?  He couldn’t have asked to make sure his gay-dar was working, not in that bar.

“Well, aren’t you?”  He tapped his nose.  “We always recognize one of our kind.  We don’t have to see him to know.  We don’t all look like me, though none of us are beauties.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Oh, but you’re the exception!  I’ve never run into any like us half so good looking.  That’s why I asked.”

“Look, I can’t begin to guess what you’re talking about, but if you must know, I had my teeth straightened.  Lots of guys do.  I take care of my appearance, too.  My hair is permed.  And I did have a bit of a nose job, to set it back in place after I broke it.  Hit in the face playing baseball.  Except for that I look the same as I did when I came out of my mother, that is, what the genes I was born with would make me look like.”

“See?  I was certain you’d had a nose job!  They did you proud.  No one could tell just by looking at you, not unless they knew what you were.  I bet you drink the worm in the tequila bottle too.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.  Will you stop talking in riddles?  Unless they knew I was what?”

He glanced around again and beckoned me to put my ear right up against his mouth.  “A mole man.”

I had to admit he looked the part, no denying that!  Not that I believed him for a second.

“And are all you mole men gay?”

“We mole men.”  He winked at me.  “I’m sure of that now.  Are we all gay, you ask?  What choice do we have?  Molishness is a recessive gene attached to the X-chromosome, and about as rare as genes get.  Mole women are more uncommon than female hemophiliacs or bearded ladies.”

“I suppose you only cruise other mole men?”

“Oh, we’re not exclusive, far from it!  But we don’t have much luck except with our own sort.  I shouldn’t need to be telling you this, but I guess as cute a guy as you could live his whole life and never know he was a moley.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re mistaken.  In fact, I know you are.”

He shrugged, and fell silent for a while.  Then he said in a conspiratorial tone of voice, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but are you, um... endowed, or do you have a penis of more modest proportions like the rest of us?”

“You’re asking inches?”

He nodded gingerly, and I leaned over and whispered what he wanted to know in his ear.  His face lit up with delight, and he said, “That big?  Really?”

“More or less.  It doesn’t reach the same size every time I get hard.”

“I’d give anything to see it, touch it, suck it. No, just seeing it will be enough.  Only fools expect to win the lottery.”

“You can give a squeeze through my jeans if you want, but I’m warning you – it’s not hard.”

“May I really?”

It was my turn to shrug.  He hesitated and said, “I suppose I ought to introduce myself first.  You can call me Moe.”  Then he laid a tentative hand on my crotch, rubbed it around to be sure it was resting on my cock and not my balls, gave a gentle squeeze, held on a second or two, and finally let go.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Even soft you can tell what a monster it must be when it gets angry.  I bet it’d hollow out a mole hole in no time flat.”

This had gone on long enough.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” I said, “but if you don’t mind, I came here to cruise.”

“Of course!  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to monopolize you.  But before you go, just answer me one question – are you or aren’t you.”

“I already told you I’m not.  I don’t see what difference it makes, though.”

“Well, you see, I have this bet.  Oly – he’s my partner – and I have been watching you from that table wondering ‘Is he or isn’t he?’  Oly says no way, I say yes.  I have a lot of money riding on your answer.”

I turned and saw another funny-looking man, younger and sandy blond, at a table in the corner.  He didn’t look quite as funny as Moe, but he looked funny enough.  We waved to me timidly.

I got down from my stool and strode over to him, Moe trotting along behind me.  He was funnier looking close up.  I leaned over him, bracing my arms on the table, and said, “Look, I don’t know if I am or not, so you’ll just have to call it a draw and call off your bet.”

“There’s one sure way of telling, isn’t there, Moe?” he said.

“I don’t think I want to know what it is.”

“Nothing you need to worry about, just a little blindfold smell and hearing test.  It won’t take more than a minute or so.  Sit down.”

I passed with flying colors.

 

Posted: 03/12/10