Before long, it wandered over to sex. Fragments of last night's dream replayed themselves, and John was struck with an urge to bring them into reality. OK, so he wasn't an orc and he was unlikely to find a satyr, but the gay sex part he had a shot at. He changed out of his work clothes into something a bit more flattering, grabbed a couple of condoms from his desk drawer, and whistled as he headed down to his car.
Once he'd started the engine, though, it dawned on him that he didn't know where he was going. He'd never even been to a gay bar before, let alone tried to pick someone up. Until recently, he'd never wanted to. There were a couple of bars he had his suspicions about -- he dimly recalled one of them having a rainbow in the window -- so he pulled onto the street and started driving in their direction.
After a couple of miles he passed a bowling alley and something sparked in his memory. He couldn't put his finger on why, but this seemed like a good place for sex. He turned around, parked his car outside the place, and walked in.
It was quiet. He'd expected music, the hum of conversation, and the heavy rolling of bowling balls, but the place was almost empty. A handful of middle-aged women were huddled by one of the alleys, but didn't seem to be playing. It was just about the exact opposite of a busy gay nightclub. Then again, it had been dead on Friday night, so he shouldn't have expected much on a Tuesday evening.
He frowned. Friday night? Yes, he'd been here before -- was it really just last Friday? He didn't remember it well -- had he been that drunk? His eyes settled on the restroom and he felt a tingle of arousal. This was familiar, somehow. He walked over in a daze and pushed open the door.
Inside the bathroom, the sense of deja-vu intensified. He approached the furthest stall slowly, somehow sure that it would be occupied, that there would be a glory hole, and written next to it would be sequences of taps and pounds to request sex.
The hole was there exactly as he remembered, but the stall was empty. He pushed his way in, the door squeaking on its hinges, and looked around. This felt somehow anticlimactic. What had he been expecting? Something otherworldly and mysterious, not this dirty toilet and these walls scrawled with graffiti. He felt lost.
The main bathroom door opened loudly, startling him. Quickly, he shut the stall door and locked it, irrationally nervous that someone might see him. The glory hole suddenly seemed much larger. Anyone might walk over here, bend down, peer through it, and see who he was...