"Check out the chub!" Lane's boyfriend Danny exclaimed. He pointed to the other side of the dance floor at the Rage. A guy in his late 30s or 40s, short, chunky, with a scruffy beard, drinking by himself and glaring at the crowd.
"Nothing wrong with chubs," Michael said -- he found a little belly rather hot -- "But not in a twink bar. He should be at the Faultline or the Eagle."
Danny and Lane knew Michael from the gay synagogue. He was a psychologist, 27 years old, slim, with thick black hair, black eyebrows, and a smooth chest.
"Or he should at least dress for the Rage," Lane said. The chub was wearing a yellow t-shirt and too-tight blue short that showed no basket. Unbecoming, almost pathetic.
"Or he should at least work the room," Danny added. "Joke, flirt, offer drinks. Being the life of the party can make up for a lot of flaws."
"You know what," Michael said, "I think he's new to West Hollywood, maybe newly out. Never been with a guy before. I could be his first! I'm going to go cruise him."
Danny rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself."
Michael made eye contact and approached. Only when he was within groping distance did he recognize the guy as Jay North!
"Hi, I'm Michael," he said with a cruisy grin. "I have to say, I had a big crush on you as a kid. What have you been up to lately? Still acting?"
That was the wrong opening line. "Golly gee, Mr. Wilson," Jay said in a sarcastic falsetto, "Casting agents are battering my door down with simply oodles and oodles of scripts."
Rebuffed, Michael backed off, but Jay grabbed his arm. "I'm sorry. I'm a little drunk, and I've already been rejected tonight."
Michael shrugged and returned to him. They had a short, slurred conversation, and groped a bit -- Jay wouldn't kiss -- and made a date for the next night.
The full story, with nude photos and sexual situations, is on Tales of West Hollywood.