Jon Story

"You're not going to give the girls a hard time, are you?" Her accent was
thick and exotic, and I couldn't place it. "Because if you are going to do
that, I suggest you do that in another bar." The look in her eyes backed up
the vague threat.

"No, I'm not going to cause any trouble. I'm just..." my words trailed
off as I realized I didn't know what I was going to do.
"That Tonya, she treat you right?" she asked, and I shook my head no. "It
don't surprise me. She don't treat no-one right, not even herself. So how
come you stay? Most men get what they want and leave. The rest don't get
what they want, but still leave." I could tell this woman was honestly
curious. She wasn't just doing a business survey.

Something let loose my tongue; maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the
sexual frustration, or maybe this strange woman had some uncanny power, and
made strangers open up. I told her about the stories that turned me on, and
the fantasies I concocted in my own head. I told her about looking at the
boys and the girls in high school, and wanting them both, but not being
attracted to either. I told her of wanting to find the one girl I could
give a blowjob to every night. I talked about things I had never put into
words before. I told her my real name, and how I had lied about it to Tonya
because I was scared about the consequences of my visit. I told her about
the time when I was 7 and my best friend and I went looking through his big
sister's underwear drawer. I talked her ear off.

Through it all, her eyes indicated she was listening. Even when she swept
her gaze around the room, I knew she was still paying attention to my
rambling. "So this is what it was like to talk to a counselor," I thought.
When I finally ran out of words, she looked at me, nodded and said, "You go
to bed tonight. Go back to your hotel room and sleep. But, I want you to
come back here at 9 o'clock on the dot, tomorrow morning. I will have
something for you."
Without another word, she pulled herself out of the booth, and walked off,
to greet a well-dressed man entering the bar.
I was exhausted from spilling my guts, so I took her advice, and walked
back to the hotel.