Over-the-Counter Encounter
3. Measuring
Smiles Tuxedo Shop was indeed right next door. It was a quiet place with only one customer. That customer was being fitted by none other than Russell Haye. Russ was on his knees taking the in-seam measurements, his tape deeply into the customer's crotch. There were no complaints from the tall blonde beauty undergoing this process. Dean and Matt went almost unobserved to the front counter.
"Mmm," said Russell. "Let me see here. Could you spread your legs a little more so I can see the tape? O yes that's good."
"Should I try on the other pair?" said the customer winking.
"Oh yes," said Russ, "then come back to me and I'll take another measurement."
The customer went into the fitting room drawing the curtain behind him.
"Yes, I'll take a measurement that you'll never suspect," said Russ quietly. "What a trophy! What a trophy!"
"Sorry," said the customer from inside the booth, "I didn't hear you."
"Nothing," said Russ. "I just alluded to our free adjustments sir. There is no fee, sir. No fee."
Russ noticed Dean and Matt
"O hon," he said, "You should see what I have on deck in there. I'll have him for dinner."
"Dreamer," said Dean. "You get all these hung straight guys in here. The best you've done is giving that wedding party a blowjob last August - and they were all straight boys. You're lucky they didn't go elsewhere, or you would have not been able to sit for the rest of your life."
Russ was gazing at Matt quit curiously.
"Girl," he said, "where's your manners?"
"Oh," said Dean, "Sorry. Matt this is my good friend Russell."
"I believe," said Russ, "I believe I've seen you around the coat racks."
"I believe I spied you earlier today," said Matt.
"So, I was right," said Russ. "Mr. Matt here was shopping for more than coats."
"No," said Matt, "shopping implies a purchase. I'm not buying anything."
"Well, you won't find anything in here for sale," said Russ.
"We just stopped by to see if you have anything interesting going on tonight," said Dean.
"The usual," said Russ, "unless mister 9 inches in there is family and single."
"So it's the usual," said Dean.
"Bitch!"
"So Matt, do you want to do the usual?"
"If the usual isn't being harnessed in a sling with forty men," said Matt.
"Very funny," said Russ. "We never use more than twenty-two."
"No," said Dean, "the usual is dancing at the Cave."
"In Asbury Park? I've never been."
"You've never been to the Cave?" said Russ. "What planet did this hu hu fall down from?"
"Houston," said Dean.
"Queers and Steers," said Russ
"No," laughed Matt. "I've passed by the place, but I don't do the bars alone."
"Well, there you are," said Dean."You're not alone tonight. You have me and Miss Piggy here to trip the light fantastic."
The customer came out of the fitting room. His pants were wide open showing his jockey shorts and the outline of something very large. Russell almost swooned.
"Dear me," said Russ, "are you having difficulty."
"I can't seem to button these things up," said the Customer.
"Oh, I'll help you," said Dean pushing the customer back into the fitting room. As he closed the curtain his head popped out. "See you all at midnight."
Matt and Dean laughed as they heard the sound of Dean’s help and the customer's great willingness to accede.
"He's a character," said Matt.
"He's lots of fun. I think y'all need some fun."
Dean massaged Matt's shoulders.
"You're so tense and nervous," said Dean. "You need to relax and trust me and my flighty friend."
"Oh, that feels good," said Matt.
They sat beside a mannequin while Dean continued to rub Matt's back.
"Wait," said Matt. "I know a trick. Lean on me, back to back."
They did so. Then they used their backs to massage each other. They "ooohed" and "aaaahed" with pleasure.
"Is this the Texan tag team massage?" asked Dean. "It feels so good after a long day at work."
"You feel so comfortable," said Matt stopping his part of the motion.
"Comfortable? Not, hot or maybe, sugary."
They faced each other.
"That too," said Matt.
He held Dean's hand and rubbed it.
"You know, we are in public," said Dean. "This would certainly shock Santa and his elves."
Matt kissed him.
"That makes you all the more hot," said Matt.
"We'll melt the snow," said Dean.
"You know I've never seen snow," said Matt.
"What? Never seen snow."
"No," said Matt. "I've seen snow on the TV and in the movies, but it doesn't snow in Houston. And it hasn't snowed up here since I've been up here."
"I've never met anyone who has never seen snow," said Dean.
"I've never met anyone who thinks a fucking bright purple tie would be a special gift for a special friend."
"The gift of retail science," said Dean laughing.
They started kissing more passionately. Suddenly, Russ left the fitting room, the customer in tow. The customer adjusted his shirt and pants. Russ watched Matt and Dean then nonchalantly went to the register and rang up the sale.
"Well," said Russ looking at the customer’s credit card, "since I won't be seeing my friends tonight at the Cave, maybe you would like to join me . . . . Mr. Martin?"
"You can call me Chris," said the customer.
"We'll be there," said Dean. "And what did you get yourselves into?"
"Just mind your own business and your own customer list dear," said Russ. "Mine's a full nine inches."
"Mine's a size eleven shoe," said Dean.
"Twelve!" corrected Matt.
"Thirteen!" said Chris.
They all looked at him in amazement, then broke out into applause. It would indeed be an interesting evening.
While the Mall was a great venue for cruising and first meetings, the Cave in Asbury Park was a great place for partying. On hot summer nights, the place would be filled with hot half-dressed men and womyn, shaking their body and their body parts. If it got too hot inside, there was a volleyball net set up in a courtyard. You could play or be ogled, as was your pleasure. There were nocks and crannies everywhere for a little canoodling or a heavy hammering. Heat was the Cave's friend.
Now, in the dead of winter one would expect a quieting of sorts, a cessation of festive activity; however, that was far from true. The place rocked near the Christmas holidays, always packed to the rafters, the bodies and the body parts shaking as if the summer had never ended.
The Cave had irregular ceilings and walls, stuccoed and crafted to present one with the impression that one was actually in a cave. It was easy at Halloween to drape the place with bats and cobwebs, the most eery of effects. But with Holly and Pink Christmas ornaments, the giant disco ball glittered the wintry crowd with plenty of atmospheric rub.
By the time Dean and Matt arrived, the place was so crowded and noisy, it would certainly intimidate a newbie to the Cave. Russ and his evening squeeze, Chris Martin - customer du jour. - were alert to see Dean pushing his way through the crowd with Matt holding on to his shirttail.
"Hi sis," shouted Dean over a very loud Donna Sommers. "It's about time you guys got here. Where've you been?"
"We stopped at my place to . . . " said Dean.
"Details, details," demanded Russ. "Matt, am I embarrassing you?"
"Hardly. What are you drinking?"
"Tanqueray with a twist of lemon."
"And you . . . Chris, was it?"
"Beer - anything. Thanks," said Chris.
"You'll have . . ." Matt asked Dean.
"Just a cranberry juice - neat."
Matt pushed his way to the bar jockeying for position.
"Wow," said Russ. "Mr. Big spender. When was the last time you dated a man who bought the first round? Chris, you didn't buy the first round. In fact, you haven't bought a round yet."
"Who picked up who?" said Chris.
"Bitch," grumbled Russ. "So, you went to your place and fucked like bunnies already."
"Stop it," said Dean. "We've done nothing of the sort, you pig. My name's Dean not Russ."
"Save yourself for later."
"Dean, darling," came a familiar and fairly masculine voice.
Before him stood a rather husky woman with bright red hair.
"Ginger," he said kissing her. "And Leslie, dear."
"The party can begin now," said Leslie bouncing around to the disco.
"Now, that the lesbians are here," said Dean.
"We're not Lesbians," said Ginger. "We're fashionable same-sex companions."
"Yeah, and my willy's green!"
"And who did you come with?" asked Leslie.
"No one yet," said Russ, "but, this one here will have his chance later."
"Who's talking to you, trash," said Leslie. "We know you too well to even question where your mouth will be later. It's Dean - sweet Dean we need to query."
"Query?" said Russ.
"We need to know if we have work to do," said Ginger. "Line 'em up and see who will be our Christmas present to our little Deano here."
"Not needed," said Dean. "I brought someone."
"Where is he?" said Ginger. "Let mama see. I'll tell you whether he passes muster."
"Right!" said Dean. "I really trust the Dyke muster. In Provincetown last year you both nixed that dude I brought back from the Atlantic House."
"He was a user," said Ginger.
"He would have had his way with you and left you crying for the rest of your vacation," said Leslie.
"Thanks! You managed to turn me off that night. You even said . . ."
". . . he had a twisted dick," said Leslie.
"We saw it," said Ginger. "He took a piss out the back in the garden."
"Nearly got the cat," said Leslie.
"Well, the next time I want advice on a man's dick, I'll go to two lesbians - accomplished connoisseurs on the subject. I got nothing that night. You sent him a way drunk; and I beat off on your cat."
"About the only pussy you'd see," said Russ.
"Shut up, Russ," said Dean. "Anyway, here's my date du jour. And if you manage to see through his pants and tell me its twisted, bear in mind he's a size 12 shoe."
"I have the size thirteen on my arm," said Russ, "aren't you honey."
Matt returned with the drinks passing them out trying not to spill them in the crowd's crush.
"No comment," said Ginger after a quick look over.
"What?" said Dean.
"Just no comment," said Ginger. "You're not interested."
"I am . . really. But. . . "
Matt was beside him now.
"Matt, these are two of my oldest friends, Ginger and Leslie."
"Pleasure to meet you," drawled Matt with a little bow.
"Do I hear the sweet strands of Dixie," said Ginger.
"A Southern Gentleman," said Leslie. "Texas if I'm not mistaken."
"How keen," said Matt.
"Houston," said Leslie.
"You're good."
"Les and Ginger watch out for me," explained Dean. "They have a place in P'town - and I go there every year. It's great."
"P'town?"
"A real southerner," said Ginger, "who's never heard of P'town."
"Provincetown. On Cape Cod," said Leslie.
"Fag Central, said Russ.
"I've heard of it, just not as P'town. Never been there."
"Dean," said Ginger, "you'll need to bring this Houston lad to our humble abode this summer."
"Would there be room for me?" asked Russ.
"There's always room for one more cat," said Leslie.
Ginger took Dean aside.
"Honey, he's a catch," she said. "No crooked dick there."
"You be nice to our Dean," said Leslie to Matt. "He's like the son we never had, nor likely to have. He's a fine boy - and I heard he's good in bed, although, do tell, I have never known a man who has really been good in bed - except when he was asleep - and then only if he doesn't snore."
"Dean," said Ginger, "did I ever tell you I have a cousin in Houston?"
"Many times."
"Does that mean you don't want to hear it again?"
"It means that you'll tell me anyway, but I'm not going to listen," he said.
"Let's dance," said Leslie pulling Ginger away.
"Only if I can lead."
"You led the last time."
They disappeared into the disco crowd with a thump and a bump.
"They are a lively crew," said Matt.
"I like life. I like those who like life around me."
"I like life too," said Matt, "but I like a bit of quiet at times."
"Is this too noisy for you?"
"No it's OK."
"Dean!"
Before Dean stood a very glamorous drag queen with gorgeous eyes and shiny black hair draping down his soft white shoulders.
"John," said Dean kissing him. "You're looking fabulous. I like this. It's a great look."
"Thank you darling," said John. "And who is this?"
"This is my new friend Matt. Matt, this is John. We sang together in the New York Gay Men's Chorus."
"I was a bass," said John in a deep voice, "can you imagine?"
"You will always be our Miss Nelly Queen," said Dean.
Suddenly, Matt looked as if he was passing out. His hands shook and he blinked his eyes.
"Excuse me, Dean, I need some air," said Matt.
"Too much smoke?" asked Dean.
"No, I just need air," he said.
Matt bolted away into the crowd heading for the door.
"Something I said?" asked John.
"I don't think so," said Dean. "Excuse me."
Dean pushed away as well. He walked into several friends as he left who tried to detain him. He was as polite as possible, but managed to get through the open grotto which served as the club's entrance. It was cold outside. He looked up and down the street for Matt spying him about a half block away, shivering by the curb.
"What's the matter Matt?" he said. "It's fucking cold out here. You'll be sick."
"I'm sorry, Dean. It has nothing to do with you."
"Now it does," said Dean. "What am I going to tell my friend John? That was a bit embarrassing."
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Matt. "I didn't mean to insult him. It's just, he reminded me so much of Danny."
"Oh, oh. I'm sorry. I should have realized this."
"How could you? It's just that Danny wore his hair the very same way when he performed. I'll be OK. I just needed to get away for a few minutes."
Dean came behind Matt and put his arms around him. He hugged him for warmth.
"We'll freeze our nuts off out here," he said. "I'll tell you what. Let's just go. I'll get our coats and we'll just go. We can go back to my place."
"Let's go to mine," said Matt. "You wouldn't mind leaving your friends?"
"Do I look like I mind?" said Dean. "No, let's go. Wait here."
He gave him a kiss then ran back to the club to retrieve the coats. After ten minutes, he returned and helped Matt on with his coat. He touched his hands.
"Your hands are so cold," said Dean.
"I'm a Houston boy."
"I'll warm them up for you, just you wait. Just you wait."
Cold hands, warm heart, they say - a mere fragment passed down to us from ages of quick clips and residuals. Nonetheless, the embers of the soul burn hotter than the fires of the brain, and heart size is far worthier than shoe size on most days of the year.