Gay discotheque and gay friends

La vida no es la que uno vivió, sino la que uno recuerda, y cómo la recuerda para contarla.

Gabriel García Márquez

Part I

There were two faggots: Pedro, who had all the manners of a lady but wore the apparel of a man and Pablo, who was attired as a woman and behave as one. The face of the latter did not have any kind of resemblance to the face of a woman, so it was pretty disgusting to see him acting as one. Also, there were two women: one married and one single. The last one had a mysterious past. She had come from a neighboring country where she had lived for few years.

An ugly man was also part of that group. He hated having his face so wide and an imperfect big nose. He wished his eyes were bigger and round. Instead, God gave him everything he did not desire. He was best known as Gabriel Serrano de la Vega Villena.

These five guys decided to party in Miraflores, in a gay discotheque. Gabriel had some distrust about going to a place where men liked other men and women liked other women. Gabriel had always proclaimed not to discriminate anybody who may have different tastes, opinions and beliefs. Being in that place was the proof that he really was a freethinker, a real liberal.

Serrano de la Vega wanted to fuck Patricia, the woman who drew a mysterious past behind her. She was the former girlfriend of Yolanda’s brother. Yolanda was the woman married to Alfonso, Serrano de la Vega’s close friend. 

Since a few days earlier, Serrano de la Vega and Patricia were having some kind of affair. He met her at Alfonso’s small apartment, where he lived with Yolanda. Serrano de la Vega had quitted a menial job where his reputation –if such a thing really existed- fell down to the ground. So he decided to employ his time in reading, sleeping and visiting his friend Alfonso. In one of those visits, Serrano de la Vega met Patricia. She was thin and had a little bit a bobbies –almost nothing- and something round at her rear that could be considered as a butt. Serrano de la Vega saw in that woman some kind of tendency to make up haste relationships with anyone who was willing to. And he wasn’t mistaken. After two more visits, Serrano de la Vega and Patricia were having kind of a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. In his wettest nights, Serrano de la Vega remembered having had his hand inside her pair of jeans, under her underwear, touching daintily that flat butt, while kissing passionately those linear lips of hers, in one of the beds that Alfonso had at his house.

The gay discotheque was in Miraflores downtown. Serrano de la Vega had passed by that place a few times before, but never came to realize that that building could have been the sanctuary of the people who liked to play with their own tools.

He was holding Patricia’s hand. Pedro, Pablo and Yolanda were next to them, standing in the middle of the night, waiting for something to come in. Afterwards, Yolanda told Serrano de la Vega the reason why they all were standing outside; there was a fussing to clear up: he had to pay Patricia’s ticket because she had no money at all. It was thirty soles each. Serrano de la Vega nodded. It was kind of his girlfriend so it was kind of his responsibility to assume that cost. At that time, Serrano de la Vega had money enough to afford Patricia’s tickets and other trifles like that one because the company for which he had worked paid him a good amount of cash for his four month services. That money issue made Serrano de la Vega look handsomer.

The place was dark inside but a feeling of extreme freedom enlightened the atmosphere. It seemed like ugly people was not invited to that fancy conclave. Serrano de la Vega and some of his friends were the only exceptions. The group soon detected a free spot to stand. All of them went there: Patricia walked embracing Serrano de la Vega’s chest, Yolanda behind them, leaving one hand on Serrano de la Vega’s right shoulder, Pedro and Pablo talking away and giving quick glances to their peers.

            -On the second floor, you can see people fucking each other. It’d be great to find a dude sucking someone else’s cock-said Pedro. He was thin, wore glasses and always had a scarf around his neck.

Once in place, they formed a semicircle, so they all could take a look to the dance floor where men were dancing with other men. Most of the people were dressed up as policemen, apaches, cowboys, nurses. Serrano de la Vega remembered that that night people were celebrating Halloween. He was so focused on taking Patricia to some hotel bed that completely had forgotten what day it was. A couple of Roman gladiators passed near the group. They were talking to a cowboy. The formers were walking daintily and their visages were very feminine. The latter had a severe face and some lump at his (or her?) chest.

            -How handsome are those fellas! What a waste!-said Yolanda. Patricia agreed, giving quick glances at the wrestlers’ genital zones.

Gabriel noticed that the cowboy was manlier than him, walking firmly with his shoulders thrown back and keeping a straight back. He thought: some lesbians are manlier than any men and some gays are more feminine than any women.

Pedro and Pablo disengaged from the group to get some beers. Yolanda saw that and said to Gabriel: -I’m thirsty, Gabo. Could you get something for me?

            -A beer?-asked him.

            -No, not a beer. Let me see. Look over there; I want what she is drinking-said Patricia, anxious to have the drink a tall, dark-skinned woman had. Gabriel saw the drink and the woman. The former was a Sex on the Beach and the latter was a beautiful young lady who might have been in her twenties or so. Just when Gabriel was staring at the face of the beauty, she stared at him too. She grinned placidly and gave him a knowing glance. The man was stock still, spellbound. Couldn’t believe such a woman would reply his ridiculous approaches. To top that, the woman gave him a flirtatious wink.     

            -Wow, wow-said Pedro-. Gabo likes that fag.

           -¿Fag?-asked Gabriel-. She is not a …-he looked at her carefully. Indeed, that woman was a “he”. That’s why he succeeded in flirting. A real woman of such beauty would have never winked an eye to him.

            -Hey, I’m with you, don’t you forget that-said Patricia-. I thought you were straight-went on, laughing.

Gabriel went to the bar and ordered Patricia’s drink and a jar of beer. Yolanda followed him. She was trying to play with him, pinching him on his arms or –and this surprised Gabriel- on his butt. He smelled that Yolanda wanted something. Yolanda was a beautiful woman; had a pretty nose, big round black eyes, perfect smile and a slim body, although not the type of body Gabriel liked –a fleshy one-. He tried to behave as if Yolanda’s deeds didn’t cause an effect on him. This, of course, made Yolanda doubled her efforts to capture Gabriel’s attention.

            -Let’s go to bed, right away-Gabriel was saying to Patricia while she was drinking quietly her Sex on the Beach-. Come on, don’t be so obstinate. I know you want that as well.

But Gabriel just received passionate tongue-kisses from her. He’d put his lips all over her neck and she’d close her eyes, moving her body to the melodic rhythms spilled out by the invisible speakers.

Pedro started to dance with Yolanda. Then, both disappeared among the mass of winding bodies on the dance floor. Afterward, Pablo joined them. After finishing her Sex on the Beach, Patricia pulled Gabriel into a free spot on the dance floor. She wanted to dance, but Gabriel was just picturing her naked, her mouth giving him lots of agreeable cock sucks.

Two hours later, a show was being performed on the stage. A bunch of almost-naked thin and burly gays, all dressed up in colorful apparels, were singing and acting a famous gay song. Some of the people drew back from the dance floor and went to their former spots. Gabriel’s group did so. The show was boring.

Pedro suggested going to other place because the music was being quite monotonous. His friends accepted with impressive enthusiasm. Only Gabriel did not show any kind of emotion. He only wanted to fuck and go for a pee. He asked Pablo, who seemed to him a sensible and quiet person, where the bathroom was.

The bathroom was big. There were two: one with the ladies sign and the other with the gentlemen sign. He wondered which one would use a gay guy such as Pablo who thought as a woman and wore feminine clothing; and which one would occupy the cowboy lady he saw a couple of hours earlier. She was so manly that wouldn’t be a surprise to find a dick under her underwear.

Gabriel slightly pushed the men bathroom door, and what he saw first was the visage of the black lady who had winked at him before. Her arms were stretched out to the wall and his head was somewhat tilted.

            -Hello-said the lady, with a faltering voice, breathlessly-, come on, join us.

¿Join us? Wasn’t she alone in that room? For one hasty second, Gabriel imagined that lady giving him that cock blow he was expecting for hours. She looked like a lady, behaved as one, had a pair of enormous boobs –bigger than those of Patricia’s and Yolanda’s together, for instance- so his mind could effortlessly consider her as a real ‘she’. Besides, every bathroom, in self-respected discotheques like the present one, had those square-shaped condoms machines where to get some protection. Nevertheless, the situation had changed. Apparently, she was not alone there.