Prologue
David had had a horrendous few days, saying goodbye to the first boy he had ever loved. Beginning as his part-time gardener, young Tim had quickly become the love of his life, a life cruelly cut short by a crazed Man U fan who fatally stabbed him in an after-the-game melee, seeking revenge for the thrashing his West Ham team had inflicted on the famous Man U side on the pitch.
With much difficulty, David had stayed put till after the funeral but needed a total escape from anywhere that the image of his lost love would suddenly appear. An image from the many wonderful ones that he had stored in his head. So, the day after the funeral, he was headed for Barcelona, a city he had fond memories of, and hoped would provide a temporary diversion. David's actual destination is the famous Las Ramblas, the promised center of the action, for him in Barcelona and one that holds many fun memories from previous carefree visits. Not the most salubrious part of town but never without constant action.
Las Ramblas can also be roughly divided into seedy and non-seedy areas. This distinction between seedy and non-seedy becomes a lot clearer during the nighttime when the southernmost end of the Ramblas becomes something of a red-light district and is frequented by ladies of the night. Not that ladies in any form are of interest to David but it is interesting how many times in the far reaches of the world's great cities that feature such areas are also of interest to those gay men who fancy young straight boys. It should not be that surprising, as the ladies of the night feel safe from being hassled when relaxing in a mostly gay bar, and straight boys find it a turn on that they suddenly find such ladies as fellow customers. The fact that men, who they have never met before, also frequent those bars and insist on buying drinks for the boys is only an added attraction. After a few relaxing drinks, the offer of a complications-free head job is often acceptable, with or without any monetary consideration. Under the circumstances of this visit, sex definitely does not have its usual importance for David, although company pleasing to the eye,, is always welcome.
Whilst David normally stays in 5-star hotels, that was not wanted for this visit. Instead, he is returning to his past and staying at a small private hotel, just off the Ramblas, where he previously had such relaxed fun
2.0 - Hostel Fernando
My taxi from Barcelona's El Prat airport to Las Ramblas dropped me close to the cruise port end of the boulevard. A two-minute walk north, taking the first narrow lane-way to the right, and the entrance is ahead. Just a glass doorway, with the hotel sign above it. I enter the small space inside where a sign suggests ringing the bell on the mini unattended desk. I do so and after a short interval a large lady, dressed all in black, appears at the top of the stairs and calls down to me to come on up.
The lady's name is Maria, she checks the booking form and tells me I am in number "cinco', which being in Barcelona sounds more like 'thinko', Maria opens the door to show me the room; just inside and behind the door is a miniature kitchen with just the basics, enough for snacks and drinks. To the left is some wardrobes that have seen better days, the door looking as if a good shove and it would fall off. in the far corner is a large double bed. The front wall, above Las Ramblas, contains two sets of curtained windows. The set to the right has a mini table with two chairs in front of it, and what looks like a small balcony outside of it.
I drop my luggage on the floor. Maria takes me down the hallway to inspect the bathroom. Only for men she insists, the ladies are on the next floor, upstairs. The bathroom was, as I remember, very communal. Washbasins, with large above mirrors, along the right-hand wall and an all-in-together shower area to the left. the remnants of a shower curtain hanging from an overhead railing. I am most pleased that the bathroom has so far escaped modernization.
I hope the place is busy with many young lads and am pleased to hear that with my arrival now, the hostel is full. I look forward to enjoying many showers with pleasing eye candy, surrounded by naked youth. Returning to my room, number five, I unpack and prepare to venture out onto Las Ramblas for the first time in more than two years. I almost have a feeling of having come back home. This is a city in which I have always felt relaxed, and I have pleasant memories from my many previous visits.
The young Spanish male is a very proud, beautiful, and sexy individual.
3.0 - Juan.
The first stop is a cafe I have supped at on many previous occasions. It is directly opposite Fernando, and I stand in front of the entrance perusing the approved menu. Once again marveling at the Spanish foresight that requires all eateries in Spain to lodge their menus for approval. The prices must be in accordance with the level of the establishment. so something that a Tapas Bar can only charge 20 pesos for, could maybe be approved at 30 or 40 pesos in an opulent fine dining restaurant. The approved menu copy has an official government stamp attached. He notices that whilst he is reading the menu at the border fence of the outdoor alfresco dining area, a rather attractive young waiter is anxiously watching him from inside the cafe, ready to be of any assistance if he decides to enter. He smiles; in nearby Italy or Greece the waiters would be all over him almost dragging him inside, the Spanish are a little more professional than that.
I enter the main part of the cafe, and Juan, as his name-tag informs me, follows me to the table that I have selected, and places the food and drink menus on it. I will be sitting against the far wall from where I can watch both the waiters and the customers as much as I wish so to do. I have always been impressed by the bodies of Spanish males, so slim, their well-cut trousers so form-fitting. Juan is no exception, his shoulder-length jet black hair just longing to have fingers run through it. His body-clinging, slightly laced, white shirt, topped with a black bow tie, his black trousers cutely rounded at the rear and nicely bulged in front, finished off with a vivid red cummerbund wrapped around his middle. A dashing figure indeed! You could almost imagine him facing a charging bull. The ready smile that lights up his face suggest that he would be a nice boy to know, and maybe worth fostering. so the game begins.
"So, tell me, Juan, how long have you been working here?"
"Almost one year now, sir. I come from the country many hours from here, up close to the border with Andorra."
"So you are a true Catalan?"
"Very much so, but I do not get involved with politics."
"Very wise, my friend. I have not been here for a couple of years so I may need some advice as to where to go?"
"No problems, sir!"
"One rule, no sir, you must call me David."
"OK, David," he replied with that big open country-boy smile.
"I ate on the plane, and before that at Gatwick airport, so only a snack is called for, and maybe some late-night snacks later, Spanish style. How about the Stuffed Baby Squid and a small carafe of Rioja."
Juan nods as he writes down my order and leaves to execute it. As he walks away from the table I am impressed with both his body and his natural grace. He would make a most enjoyable companion. No doubt straight, but sex is not foremost on my menu under the current circumstances, unless it presents itself along the way, It does not have its usual level of importance. A chance coupling in those communal showers would suffice, just the essential physical release.
My meal arrives, the squid amazingly soft and tender, the flesh infused with the herbs from the minced meat stuffing, as only the Spanish seem to be able to achieve. It is accompanied by a pile of thin potato slices, fried to a crisp, and a crunchy biscuit-like bowl of mini vegetables, corn, peas, finely diced onion, and capsicums. Like most Spanish cuisine, so simple yet tasty. Not unlike Juan himself!
Snippets of conversation followed during and after the meal, Juan was very happy tc chat with me in an amicable way, clearly devoid of any inhibitions, so I asked.
"Tonight I want to find a small relaxing bar, with nice music where I will not get hassled, to have a few drinks, any suggestions?"
"Where do you go?" I quickly added.
"There is one place, not far from here, I am not sure if you will like it, it is a bit strange but I feel comfortable there."
"I will like it if you join me when you finish work and let me buy you a few drinks?" The offer for me to buy, immediately took out of the equation any problem with his financial situation.
"OK. I finish at ten o'clock tonight, it is called Pablo's, he is very crazy but he has been a good friend to me when I first arrived here, down from the country."
Juan pointed out where the bar was, down the narrow street that went past my hostel entrance.
"OK my friend, see you there at ten?"
"My pleasure."
4.0 - Pablo.
Crossing over Las Ramblas from the cafe, I strolled down the car-less lane-way, past my hotel entrance, towards the Pablo bar Juan had recommended. The tall buildings on either side almost seemed to be leaning in towards each other, On the way, I passed an interesting tapas bar, where I stopped to check out the menu, for future reference.
It was a strange menu. I was quite familiar with Spanish tapas but had never seen a menu like this one. I looked up at the sign and it said Tapas Internacional, underneath was Food of the World. Another fifty meters and I saw the pink neon sign, 'Pablo's' above the sign was draped a fiery red boa. From inside I heard music being pumped out, Roberta Flack's Killing me Softly. I pushed the front door open and was immediately hit by two things; an icy cold blast from the air-con, and a screeching "Welcome to Pablo's".
Ahead of me was a large inverted horseshoe bar, almost the only lighting was above and behind the bar where I could see two young barmen. At the apex of the horseshoe was a mountain of a man, face made up, a wig on his head wearing what looked like a caftan, His voluminous body shook all over when he spoke and laughed. As I made my way towards the right-hand, less populated section of the bar and settled on a bar-stool some boys from the more crowded left side came across as if to join me. I just held up my hand and shook my head and Pablo, as I guessed the man-mountain was, screamed out at them in Spanish and they retreated back to the left side, where their giggling friends were.
Pablo called across to me. "Just relax, my friend. No one will harass you at Pablo's. Anything you want, just come and ask Pablo."
I nodded my thanks, feeling more relaxed, and looked into the face of the smiling barman. The two barmen were both bare-chested, wearing very loose-fitting black shorts suspended by old-fashioned red braces. They had not been selected solely for their barmen experience, both were charmers. Mine told me his name was Domingo and that he was from Tenerife, in the Canary Islands. I ordered my usual Whiskey and soda. He was about to pour it into a micro-glass, one ice cube, two swallows and it would be gone till I stopped him and asked if he had a bigger glass as I prefer a long drink, with plenty of ice and soda. When he relayed this to Pablo he was directed to a special cupboard where he extricated an almost perfect heavy-based whiskey glass.
Once again I nodded my thanks across to Pablo. I sipped my drink, perfect. I think I am going to get to like this place. Not that the boys grouped on the other side were of any interest to me, most were way too effeminate for my taste. As I always say, if girls do not interest me why would I be attracted to boys who want to act like girls?
The two barmen were much more my 'cup of tea'. And, of course, I was about to be joined by the amazing Juan. If this was his preferred drinking place, count me in! It was not long and I drained my drink and ordered a second. I was careful to tip well, but not stupid, I was just after good service and pleasant chit-chat, not trying to buy him, though I would not mind doing so.
I had almost finished my second drink, and a third was put down in front of me unordered. I looked at Domingo and frowned, as that is not the way I want it. He pointed to Pablo, who just waved with 'Enjoy!' shouted across. One on the house? This was becoming more my kind of place at every stage. It was soon to get better. I had noticed that the Gents was behind a door a few meters to my right. Domingo slipped out from behind the bar and went in that direction. With a lifetime of habit and practice, I also nonchalantly slipped off my bar-stool and went in the same direction, totally coincidently, of course.
As I pushed open the door of the Gents, I saw ahead of me one cubicle, a washbowl on the right, and twin urinals on the left. Domingo was standing at the far urinal. He turned to me and smiled, seemingly not objecting to my presence. I stood beside him, we both glanced down at each other from time to time, whilst the conversation was inane.
"Too much to drink must get rid of some!"
"You will make room for some more."
Domingo finished before me and busied himself in front of the mirror above the washbasin. I joined him and commented on his very baggy shorts.
"Why so big?"
I was just enough drink-relaxed to be a bit cheeky, but I was in a gay bar, so I turned him around and grabbed the front waistline of his shorts. It made quite a gap with his stomach, so I said.
"I know why, it is so the customers can put their hands down inside." As I said this I did that exact thing getting a nice handful of boy genitals. Domingo just held my arm and said.
"Nice, but I must get back to work or Pablo will notice."
"I understand," I replied as I reluctantly removed my arm.
Domingo left and I remained there motionless so I could also return as if we had not been here together. It worked as no eyes appeared to be on me as I regained my bar-stool.
"You are a naughty boy." Domingo admonished me, but with a nice smile that said do it again anytime. I smiled back.
Just then there was much commotion as someone new entered Pablo's. It was Juan!
Pablo screamed out, "the divine Juan, come and give Mama a big hug and a kiss."
Juan walked towards Pablo but looked across to me and nodded in greeting. A ritual was about to be performed. He approached Pablo with his hand outstretched. Juan was pulled into a half hug, but I was relieved to see that there was no kiss. After a few words were exchanged whilst looking in my direction, Juan came across and sat beside me.
He wanted a Cuba Libre, which was what the Spanish call a white Bacardi, coke and a dash of lime, I have no idea as to why it is called that. I ordered one, and Domingo served it with his usual smile. The two boys were obviously friendly with each other and they exchanged a little Spanish chatter before Juan turned to me.
"I supposed you are wondering what a straight boy like me is doing in a gay bar like this?"
"It had crossed my mind."
"I was very lost, and a bit lonely, when I first arrived in the big city and had no idea as to where to go. One night after work, a good tip night, I felt like a few drinks to relax, walked past here, heard the music, and came inside. A couple of men started to crowd me and Pablo called me over, explaining that I was safe here and to tell him if anyone troubled me any time. He also told the men to leave me alone so I could relax and enjoy my drink. A few of my drinks that night were complimentary from Pablo, and I began to feel comfortable just sitting here, listening to the music and talking to the barmen."
"So it has since become my usual switch-off place. Pablo may seem strange to you, but he has been a great help to me on a few occasions since. He has become a good friend. Behind the facade, he is quite an astute businessman."
Juan and I enjoyed a few drinks and chatted about our past lives. Sometimes Domingo joined in with our conversations, other times just Juan and me. The atmosphere was very relaxed and it was just what I had been looking for, and needed. After a few more drinks I was at a point where sleep would come easily, and I hoped, dreamlessly. Juan had already mentioned that he had a one-hour trip ahead of him to get home where he had to do his laundry before starting tomorrow, now today, at ten o'clock.
So, we left after saying good night to Domingo, with a wink from him to me, and Pablo who entreated me 'to look after the boy' I assured him that Juan was in safe hands and we left. The heat hit us as we left the air-con, but it was not too bad.
Going past the Tapas bar, I asked Juan about it.
"It is not actually Spanish. They do popular snacks from many countries around the world, presented in tapas style, small plates, finger food."
"Have you tried it, is it any good?"
"Too expensive for me but I have been told about the food, that it is excellent and interesting."
"Then we must try it one night."
By saying so I was confirming that Juan and I were to be friends and companions for as long as I was in Barcelona, or at least that is what I hoped. He seemed to be happy with that as we shook hands at my hostel doorway. I knew that I could not yet invite him in, that may come later, we always live in hope!
"Thank you for everything." he said as he departed, "See you tomorrow?"
"For sure, " I replied.
I stopped in front of my hostel entrance, used the master key I had been given for any late-night return, and entered, climbing the stairs to my room. Inside I stripped off, wrapped myself in a towel, and proceeded down to the bathroom for a quick shower before bed. Unfortunately, the room was empty but I felt the heat from a recent hot shower and wondered what I may have just missed. My shower was most welcome but uneventful. Afterward, I returned to my room, and collapsed on the bed, quite happy with my first day back in Barcelona, having met two charming boys, Juan and Domingo, who were both sure to become pleasant diversions from my grief.
5.0 - The busy shower room.
In the morning I overslept, but what the matter, as I was on holiday with no fixed schedule other than to have lunch during Juan's shift at the cafe. Setting up my laptop on the small table, I pulled the curtain back and could see my charming waiter, across the road, serving some customers, laughing and joking in his natural manner. After making sure that the world had not collapsed and I had not lost my small fortune, I could not put it off any longer. It was out and down to feast my eyes once more on the amazing Juan.
He greeted me like an old lifetime friend so I was over affectionate, shaking hands with my right and letting my left rest on his hip. it seemed natural and he did not seem to mind. A nice start to the day!
“Just a coffee, to wake me up.”
“Coming up, sir.” replied the boy, with mock seriousness.
I settled in what had become to be my usual table, where I could watch without being watched. When Juan returned with my espresso, accompanied by the usual small glass of ice water, I asked Juan.
“What time do you finish tonight?”
“The same as last night, ten o’çlock
“Same again? Meet you in Pablo’s for a couple of drinks?”
“OK, but it must be an early night for me, as I have many things to do at home.
“No problem,” I replied, though disappointed.
“By the way, when is your day off? I want to take you out to a very good restaurant as a special treat. What is your favorite to eat?
“That would be fantastic. I love any seafood. My holiday day is not till next Monday.”
“Great, I will research seafood restaurants in Barcelona between now and then.”
I sipped my coffee, pleased that Juan had accepted my dinner offer without complaint, almost as if we were old friends.
My plan was to have a few drinks chatting to the sexy Domingo, whilst waiting for the main event. A pleasant evening was assured.
*******
After leaving Juan’s cafe, I strolled up Las Ramblas to the Plaza de Catalunya at the northernmost end. A huge obelisk-like statue stood in the center of the plaza, and the entire area was full of tourists, local and foreign. I knew from previous visits that this area became quite a cruising site late at night, maybe I would visit one night, but better not.
On the way back to my hostel, I checked out quite a few restaurants for future reference, noting a Moroccan one, Marrakech, I must visit as Tangines I love. Back at Fernando’s, I was wet through from so much walking in the heat of Barcelona, so I stripped off and went for a shower. As I approached I could hear much laughter coming from inside the bathroom. When I entered I saw two young tourist boys using the furthest two shower heads, and playing games soaping each other. They ignored my entrance to the shower at the end, where I left one vacant one between us. The boys were speaking a language I did not recognize but as they were white-skinned, and circumcised I assumed them to be from one of the Muslim parts of Yugoslavia. I would have loved to join them in their game, but sadly an impossibility.
I showered and left, leaving them to do whatever they were doing before I arrived. My room was far cooler than outside but still warm, so I sprawled naked on my unmade bed, letting the light wind from the overhead fan waft over me. I did not want to overdo it with Juan so did not return there during the day, instead, I dined at Marrakech, enjoying a Lamb and Prunes Tangine, which was wonderful. Meat, prunes, and potatoes had all been steamed in the tangine, infused with those aromatic Arabian herbs. When the ceramic tangine was presented at the table and the lid removed the incredible smell that escaped was overwhelming.
I did drop into Juan’s for an after-dinner coffee, just to remind him of our later meeting at Pablo’s. I regaled him with my dinner description and he promised to try it with me one night. Approaching nine o’çlock, I sauntered down to Pablo’s, entered, and after a greeting and welcome from the man himself, sat myself down in front of the smiling Domingo, at the same position as last night.
“And how is Barcelona’s sexiest barman tonight?” I inquired.
“Ready to serve the sexiest customer in Pablo’s.” replied the cheeky boy.
I pretended to look around and said. “Then where can we go?”
“Serve you a drink, your usual Whiskey Soda, David?”
“If that is all that is on the menu. I’d much rather wrap my lips around something else. Though.”
“You are naughty, you will get me into trouble with Pablo.”
“Why, is he your boyfriend?”
“No way.” Domingo replied, with a shocked expression. “But we are not supposed to play around with the customers.”
“Don’t worry, I will not tell Pablo. I was going to invite you out on your night off, I suppose that is taboo also.”
“Yes, it would have to be a secret.” I could understand Pablo’s reasoning, he employed straight-looking attractive barmen as a lure to his customers, if the boys were kept on a short leash then the horny customers would continually return to try their luck. Any word of them having been out with other customers would spoil the dream!
“No problem, just tell me which day or night, and where to meet you, and it is on. I stay at the Hostel Fernando, just down the road, room five, you can call there any time?”
My hands were around my glass, resting on the bar counter. Domingo looked across to make sure that Pablo was not watching and reached out and wrapped his hand around mine giving it a slight squeeze. I guessed that was as far as we were going to go that night. Another communal visit to the Gents would be going too far. I had no wish to leave him with problems after my departure from Spain, as this was his life and he had to survive in it as well as possible.
After a couple of drinks, though I did have to visit the gents, I jokingly suggested that Domingo join me, and he shook his head, with a smile and whispered ‘sorry’. I did not escape completely though, as I had only just started to urinate and I was joined by one of the regular slightly effeminate boys who told me his name was Carlo. He was very obvious, making sure I got a good look at his oversize member. I was always amazed at how often such effeminate boys were so well hung, almost like a waste. If I had been anywhere else I would have been happy to give it a little stroke, it certainly deserved it, but not here.
Back at the bar, Domingo quizzed me, after watching the boy depart the Gents and return to the other side of the bar, back to giggling with his friends.
“You play games with Carlo?” he asked, whether, from curiosity or jealousy, I do not know.
“No way,” I replied. “Though he was certainly willing.”
“Very big boy.” I added, and we exchanged smiles. ‘’Just like you.”
I checked my watch, it was almost showtime!
I was halfway through my next drink, and Juan arrived, to the usual process, same as last night. After greeting Pablo in what was, I am sure, the accepted way, he came across and joined me. I had his icy cold Cuba Libre ready waiting for him. He lifted it, saluted me, and gulped half of it down in one swallow.
“Thirsty boy?”
“Very. A lousy night, many boring customers.”
“Big tips” I joked.
“No way, all Spanish locals.”
As we were in almost total darkness on our side of the bar, I could not keep my hands off him. I continually let my hand rest on his thigh, sometimes even running my fingers lightly over it. He did not seem to mind. If he had of objected it would probably have freaked me out. I was fancying this boy more so every time I met him. To just sleep cuddled up with him would be the ultimate.
As usual, when you are having fun, the time flies, and it was way too soon when Juan apologized and said he must go home early, but he promised to stay out later tomorrow night. My heart raced as I wondered if that could include a sleepover? Probably not, but why not dream?
6.0 - Cruising.
After Juan left Pablo’s it felt flat, so I said goodbye to the sexy Domingo and the gross Pablo and departed. I kept telling myself not to but it did not work and instead of going up to my room, I turned right and strolled up Las Ramblas towards the naughty Plaza. As I approached I could recognize a few cruisers of various ages, among a few straggling tourists who had no idea what most of the boys strolling around the statue had in mind.
I sat on one of the seats and watched for a while until one particular boy took my fancy. Of course, I was well aware of the dangers; muggings, bashings, police, etc., but I had been living like this for more than 20 years. The thrill of anonymous sexual encounters was a drug that those who had not encountered it could neither imagine nor understand. I knew the rules and I was disobeying them all. You leave your wallet, handphone, and watch at home, just shoving some notes into your pocket, just enough to buy your way out of any trouble. Instead, I was sitting here with a wallet packed with cash and cards, my latest gold Longines on my wrist. But the excitement of the chase was overwhelming.
I was watching a rather pleasant young man, typically Spanish with his immaculate black shoulder-length hair, perfect erect posture with almost the grace of a dancer as he walked, his shirt unbuttoned at the front, his form-fitting black trousers enticing. He was definitely cruising, but for what. Was he a money boy, I thought not, even though they were often the safest. He had already made two circuits and both times we had made eye contact so this time I stood up and followed him about 20 meters behind. He became aware of what I was doing with a discreet look over his shoulder, and he left the plaza via a narrow side street.
I followed, keeping the same distance behind and trying to look as casual as possible.
The game was on!
The narrow road was deserted, with no cars and only us two pedestrians. Music and chattering escaped from the occasional open window at street level or above. I was being led blindly and was a sitting target for anything. We were well away from the safety of the Plaza, it was now deathly quiet. The boy stopped in front of a building entrance, seemed to hesitate for a minute, then disappeared into it.
When I got to where he had gone I could see no one. It was an entrance to a family compound, very Spanish. Ahead, was a small very dark alcove, a meter or so in from the footpath was a fancy iron gate that totally filled the alcove, ahead of that I could see through the gate, was what looked like a small fountain, turned off for the night, in the middle of a courtyard. It was surrounded by buildings, all with flowered balconies overlooking it. But the boy was nowhere to be seen. He could not have gone through the gate as I would have heard the noise of him doing so. I tentatively entered the alcove and looked ahead through the gate. All was quiet as if everyone was sleeping as it was now in the early hours of the morning.
I was mystified as to where my boy had gone. Then I sensed a presence and could see a shadow against the wall at the left of the alcove. Still looking straight ahead through the gate, I shuffled slightly to my left until the back of my hanging hand felt material. I touched him very lightly, there was no reaction. So, I pressed slightly harder against what must have been his bulge, and waited, ready to run if a fist came at me. Instead, I felt his hand gently cover mine.
The game was now definitely on!
As I turned to face him, our noses almost touched. I removed my left hand and replaced it with my right, with which I cupped his bulge and gently fondled him. With my left hand, I grabbed his hand and placed it on the front of my trousers, his fingers immediately began to squeeze and play. Our noses now were almost side by side so I stuck my tongue out making contact with his upper lip. With my tongue, I traced across it and then all along his lower one. I was about to repeat the process and his lips opened and our tongues met before we enjoyed a wild and heavy kiss.
It was time for the unzipping and the action to begin. As dangerous as it was, anyone could arrive at the entrance at any minute, but when the juices are flowing you do not care, you are not even aware of the risk!. I undid his top trouser button and pulled them down to his mid-thighs, enjoying the feel of throbbing boy flesh. Time was of the essence so I dropped down and took him in my mouth, a sudden intake of breath suggested he liked the idea. After a few minutes, I stood back up, placing my hands gently on his shoulders, curious to see if he would reciprocate. He did not hesitate but immediately stooped down. We alternated a few times before the pressures became too great and we almost simultaneously white-washed the entrance gate.
As soon as it was over the reality of how stupid we had been to do that here hit us and we hurriedly restored our dress so we could depart. He went onwards, and I returned back towards the Plaza, the only way I knew to get home. There were a handful of young men still cruising the area, One rather cute one gave me a smile as I passed.
Sorry, you are an hour too late, I thought to myself.
