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MidReal Story
One Night Stand With The Bartender
Scenario:Josh who is married straight but with two kids has always been interested in a one night stand with a gay man, his wife goes out of town with his two kids is this is time to take a chance?
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Josh
He is a married father of two with a secret desire to explore his samesex attraction. He is introspective, conflicted, and yearning. Josh has been married for over a decade to a goodhearted wife who is away with their kids. During her absence, he contemplates acting on his longheld curiosity to experience a onenight encounter with a man. He reflects on his unfulfilled desires and the tension between his family obligations and personal longings.
Mason
He is a charming and confident gay man who works at a bar. He is friendly, seductive, and openminded. Mason catches Josh's attention when he accidentally spills a drink on him, initiating their unexpected encounter. He is intrigued by Josh's heterosexuality and offers him a chance to explore their curiosity together, creating an opportunity for Josh to indulge in his hidden desires without judgment or risk of exposure.
Two children
They are Josh's two children who are currently away with their mother. They are innocent, affectionate, and energetic. The children's absence provides Josh with an opportunity to explore his hidden desires without their interference or awareness. Their presence also emphasizes Josh's responsibility as a father and husband, highlighting the complexity of balancing family obligations and personal needs.
I never thought I would be a man who would consider having a one night stand with a gay man.
I’m straight, married with two kids, and have been faithful to my wife for the last thirteen years we’ve been together.
But I’ve also always been curious about my attraction to men.
Never enough to leave my wife or pursue a relationship with a man, but enough to make me want to experience it just once.
And with my wife out of town for the next two days with our two kids, this is my chance.
I’ve been watching Mason for the last thirty minutes, sipping on the beer my wife left in the fridge and trying to decide if I’m really going to do this.
He’s handsome, charming, and funny, and he definitely knows his way around a bar.
The way he slides a beer down the counter to a customer or winks at a woman who catches his eye is sexy as hell.
And the way his eyes light up when he talks about his favorite whiskey…
I want to get to know him better.
Mason catches my eye and smiles, and I look away quickly.
God, I’m nervous.
I’ve never been nervous around women, but this is so far out of my comfort zone that I’m surprised I didn’t chicken out hours ago.
But I’m here now, and I’m not leaving.
I grip my beer bottle a little tighter, watching him as he serves other customers.
The condensation makes my palm slick, but I don’t let go.
I need something to hold onto while I work up the courage to approach him.
I take another sip of beer and rehearse what I’m going to say in my head.
Something casual, maybe something about the bar or his favorite whiskey.
He glances my way again, and I slowly lift my drink, holding his gaze for a few seconds before looking away.
I hear him stop mid-pour, and when I look back up, there’s a small smile on his face.
He finishes pouring the drink and hands it to the customer before deliberately walking toward my end of the bar.
My heart pounds as he comes closer, wiping his hands on a cloth as he moves.
The distance between us shrinks with each step, and just before he reaches me, I take a long swig of beer to steady myself.
"Hey there," Mason says, leaning casually on the bar.
"Hi," I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
"So, you gonna tell me why you've been watching me like I'm the last beer in the fridge?"
I fumble with my beer bottle, trying to find the right words.
Mason leans a little closer across the bar, and I catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the scent of whiskey.
"Is that really all you want to know?" he asks, his voice low and teasing.
A smile plays on his lips, and I try to hold his gaze but end up looking down at his hands as he wipes down the counter.
My mouth feels dry, and I take another sip of beer.
The noise from the bar fades into the background as I focus on Mason and me.
It’s just the two of us, locked in a silent understanding.
He reaches for a glass and pours two fingers of bourbon without asking me what I want.
I watch him, mesmerized by the way the liquid flows from the bottle into the glass.
He slides it toward me, his fingers brushing against mine.
The touch sends a jolt through my body, and I take a long sip to steady myself. Mason watches me intently, waiting for my answer.
His eyes are fixed on mine, and I feel like he can see right through me.
The air between us is charged with anticipation, and I know I need to say something before he walks away.
But what?
My hands tremble as I slide my empty glass forward, creating a little more space between us at the bar.
Mason glances at the clock.
His shift ends in twenty minutes.
He pours himself a shot of bourbon, never taking his eyes off me as he drinks it slowly.
The bar is almost empty now, with only a few regulars at the far end nursing their drinks.
Mason wipes down the counter near me, deliberately brushing his arm against mine as he works.
I watch his precise movements, the way his muscles flex under his shirt as he moves.
He calls over one of his coworkers to cover the bar early and walks away without another word.
Just before he disappears into the back, he places a napkin in front of me with his address written on it.
I look at the napkin, then back up at him, feeling my heart race.
"You don't have to come," Mason says softly, pausing in the doorway.
"But if you do, I'll be waiting."
I stare at the napkin, turning it over in my hands.
The remaining customers pay their tabs and filter out of the bar one by one.
I nurse my bourbon, watching the clock on the wall tick closer to closing time.
Through the bar's front window, I see Mason walk to his car in the dim parking lot.
He glances back at me through the glass, catching me looking, and gives a subtle nod before getting into his car and driving away.
My wedding ring feels heavy on my finger as I pull out my phone and check the address on the napkin.
It's only ten minutes away.
I order one final shot of liquid courage, leave cash on the bar for my tab, and walk unsteadily to my car.
My trembling hands grip the steering wheel, and I follow the GPS directions on my phone to Mason's address.
The streets are dark and mostly empty as I drive through the city.
At every red light, I glance down at the crumpled napkin on the passenger seat, wondering if I should turn around.
The bourbon warms my veins, giving me a false sense of confidence.
I pass by familiar neighborhoods that gradually give way to unknown streets.
Memories of my wife and children flash through my mind like snapshots in a photo album.
I try to focus on the road ahead, but my thoughts drift back to Mason's smile and the way his eyes held mine across the bar.
The GPS announces that I'm one minute away, and my palms grow sweaty against the steering wheel.
I slow down, scanning house numbers until I spot Mason's car in a driveway.
I park across the street, my heart pounding in my chest as I sit there, unsure of what to do next.
The porch light flickers on, and Mason steps out, leaning casually against the doorframe.
"You came," he says softly, a hint of surprise in his voice.
My legs feel unsteady as I close the car door and look both ways down the empty street.
The porch light casts a yellow glow on Mason's face as he waits in the doorway, arms crossed casually.
Each step up his walkway feels heavy, like my shoes are filled with lead.
A dog barks in the distance, breaking the silence.
I pause at the bottom of his porch steps, gripping the railing tightly.
Mason's expression is patient but questioning.
The bourbon buzz starts wearing off, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.
When I reach the top step, I notice small details I hadn't seen before - the five o'clock shadow on his jaw, a faint scar above his left eyebrow.
"You didn't have to wait outside," I say, trying to steady my voice.
"I wanted to make sure you found the right place," Mason replies, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"Is it too late to turn back?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mason steps aside to let me enter, but I hesitate at the threshold.
The living room beyond is dimly lit, with a leather couch and modern art pieces that I can barely make out in the shadows.
His hand finds mine in the darkness, warm and slightly calloused.
My breath catches as his fingers intertwine with mine, gentle but firm.
The door remains open behind me, the cool night air at my back.
Mason tugs softly, drawing me forward.
The floorboards creak under my feet as I take one uncertain step inside, then another.
I hesitate as Mason releases my hand, watching him move through the dimly lit living room.
He reaches behind me, and the door's soft click sounds like a final decision.
The warm air and bourbon scent of the night are trapped inside with us now.
Mason moves across the room, his silhouette against the faint glow of a cityscape outside.
He presses a button, and the lights dim even further.
Soft jazz music drifts from hidden speakers, filling the space with a mellow melody.
His movements are unhurried and deliberate as he crosses the room again.
When he returns to stand in front of me, I feel his breath on my neck.
My wedding ring catches the faint light as I reach up to touch his chest.
The fabric of his shirt is smooth under my trembling fingers.
Mason's hand rests on my lower back, its weight warm through my dress.
We're standing inches apart now, the air thick with unspoken tension.
My fingers brush against his chest again, this time slowly trailing down to his waist.
Without breaking eye contact, I reach down to find my left hand.
My wedding ring feels heavier than it has in years as I pull it away from his body.
I look down at the gold band that has marked my marriage for thirteen years.
The metal glints in the dim light, and my throat tightens.
My gaze drifts to the side table, its dark wood surface cool and smooth under my fingertips.
Time seems to slow as I reach out to set my ring down.
It lands with a soft thud, final and resolute.
I follow Mason to his leather couch, my bare ring finger still tingling.
The cushions sink beneath us as we sit down, our thighs barely touching.
Neither of us speaks, but I hear his steady breathing beside me.
Through the window, a streetlight casts long shadows across the room.
Mason's hand finds mine again, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
The jazz music continues playing softly in the background, matching my heartbeat.
When he shifts closer, his knee brushes against mine.
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of my choices settle around us.