"I'm fine, I'm not a big drinker."
From Create Your Own Story
The four men exchange amused glances, but the guy in the white wifebeater nods, and leaves the table, heading downstairs for the drinks. The other three chat around you a bit, scoping out men as they come and go, and you feel a little awkward at first, but slowly you relax as they make eye contact with you in the newly dim bar and nod or smile. Eventually, the guy in the wifebeater returns, and he brings five open bottles of beer with him, holding one out to you as he slides into the seat again. You accept it gracefully - it's only a beer, and you can handle having a beer - and clink necks with him as he sits again.
You take a sip.
"So, birthday boy," he says, leaning in a bit closer to you. "I take it you're looking for a birthday present to take home?" He grins.
You're glad of the dim lighting, since you feel yourself blush. It sounds kind of slutty the way he said it, but the reality is, it's the truth. You laugh, take another sip, and say, "Yeah."
He laughs. "Guys," he says, getting the other three men's attention. "We have a mission here. This fine young man is in need of a birthday gift to take home and unwrap." He wags his eyebrows at the last, and the men laugh. You blush even more, and take another swallow of the beer - trying to hide your nervousness and embarrassment.
"How big a present?" the guy in the PIG shirt says, holding his hands apart, then sliding them even further apart. "Like, big enough that you can't walk after, or..?"
You laugh with the men, hiding your face and drinking more.
"There are some pretty big packages here at the table," the guy with the tattoos says, leaning over the table at you. He winks.
"Oh please," says the guy with the goatee. "You're the very definition of average." He leans back in his chair. "I'm the one packing the extra."
You shake your head, laughing - and incredibly embarrassed - at the conversation. The guy in the white wifebeater seems to take pity on you.
"Seriously, guys - help a boy out. Hang on," he squeezes your shoulder. "Look around. Any of these guys we can put a bow on for you?"
You smile, tipping back your bottle again. This is sort of fun. You feel a little reckless and wild and - you can't believe it, but it's true - pretty horny. You look around the room, which has filled up significantly since the lights went dim. A few prospects stick out.
The muscular guy in the leather harness, chaps, and a studded leather codpiece is still there, though now there's a guy in a tight red tank-top talking to him. Two tables over, you spot another man, about forty, you figure, with short salt-and-pepper hair. He's clean cut with a trim beard, built stocky, and wearing a plain white collared shirt and jeans. If he'd chosen flannel plaid instead, you can't help but think, he'd be a quintessential bear. Just as you're about to point out those two fellows to the guys you're sitting with, a third man comes up from the stairwell and into the room. He's very tall and wide, with a thick neck and black hair. He's wearing a sleeveless black shirt and his arms are thick and covered with dark hair. He has a pockmarked face - like he had bad acne as a kid and it scarred him - but even though he's not handsome, he's incredibly masculine, in a rough-around-the-edges way. He's older than you, maybe in his late forties or early fifties.
You say...
