Ben-Curious

+To my Trans brothers. This ones for you.+

##Tristan

My sole reason for coming to this bar tonight was to be a wingman for Millie. Brandon and them were baby queers, young and looking to get laid. I worked with them both. Millie being a receptionist at Infinity while Brandon worked in the IT department. They were adorable as they both held on to my arms at the bar counter, being indecisive about what overpriced boozy fruit drink to get. I couldn't handle the sugar in most of those drinks. It upset my stomach. Millie gestured dramatically as they talked about Mai Tais to Brandon, "We should get Mai-Tais! They are sooo good!"

Brandon pushed back his curly red hair from his face. "Does it have coconut? I hate coconut."

I didn't know much about alcoholic beverages so I didn't know.

Millie's keening voice said, "I think so? What about you Tristan? What are you going to get?"

I looked down on Millie's cute freckles and bright blue eyes. "An IPA probably."

They let me go and put their arms on their waist. They wore a floral spring dress with fringe and sandals. They were a bigger hippie than me. "You are so boring Tristan."

I shrugged, "I like beer."

Brandon elbowed me playfully, his lips twisted in a smile, "Such a dude." He chuckled. Brandon wore a shirt I helped him pick, a well-structured navy blue button up. His was styled to appeal to a male top, unbuttoned low and tight-fitting. He normally wore nerdy tees and hoodies to work. I liked talking to him over the coffee mess at work. That's when he first confessed he was gay to me after he complimented the unicorns on my shirt. He knew Millie way better. The pair did tabletop gaming together twice a month. They once tried to talk me into joining, quoting the group was queer. It didn't quite peak my interest though. I preferred outdoor hobbies since my job was so sedentary.

Millie's voice caught my interest again as they waved down the bartender. I gave the busy bartender my request for a beer as Millie handed the bartender their card. Millie and Brandon ended up getting Mai-Tais.

I looked about the small gay bar here in Seattle. It was bigger than the one in Bremerton. The bar was crowded with people dressed up fancy for a Saturday night out. The dance floor was a huge wood floor lit by multi-colored spotlights. Hipsters and queers stood in small groups with drink in hand, talking about their work week. I felt much less out of place here, my fern-covered button up and chinos fitting right in with the rest of the Seattle crowd. The crowd at the gay bar in Bremerton were a much edgier crowd. I smiled as I thought of Katherine, my beautiful alt-witch mature lover. I adored her strong boundaries and mature social intelligence. I wanted to be better about boundaries just like her.

The three of us chatted about work in a group like everyone else. Millie gushed about their new roommate, a lively young gal who cleaned relentlessly. I relaxed a bit as I made it through my beer and vented about work with the beat of the music in the background. Millie dragged us to the dance floor when a cheery tune came on. The dance floor was crowded with writhing bodies. No one was paying attention to me. I tried to relax and feel the music as I moved. I couldn't unwind the knot of anxiety in my stomach. I had never been here and I didn't know anyone beside the pair I came with.

We danced, Millie smiling the whole time, until my pits were sweaty. The loud music and crowded space were starting to get to me. I didn't get overstimulated except in crowds. I suggested we go outside to the smoking area to get some air quickly. Millie passed, hating the smell of cigarette smoke. Brandon and I stepped outside. The chilly Seattle spring air hit me, cooling my skin instantly. I immediately felt better, being able to breath and having space to move. There wasn't many people out here on the patio looking out at the street. There was pastel wicker furniture peppered with smoking folk. A group stood under the awning toward the back, smoking and chatting.

I took a deep breath and smoothed my shirt down over my binder. When I glanced at Brandon to ask him if he was feeling good, his red brow was arched high on his forehead. His lips were parted and his he wore a sassy, wanton look on his face. I followed his gaze, having never seen this side of him. His eyes were trained on a person sitting on a wicker chair alone.

My dick pricked up in attention in my pants as my eyes widened. The very definition of *the* quintessential silver fox sat lounging on that chair, apathetic gaze staring at the trees outside the patio. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back in a professional style over sharp mature features. His suit was high-end, an asphalt gray and heathered blue combo that screamed CEO. His legs were crossed, a black Italian leather trainer hanging in the air. A cigarette hung in his long fingers in the hand over a Rolex watch. Just looking at him made me anxious, the man so clearly out of my league both financially and aesthetically. I quickly averted my gaze, my stomach twisting in my midsection. I reminded myself that I was here to support my two young gay friends.

Brandon grabbed my arm, shaking it excitedly. "Tristan. Tristan! Do you see that guy with the suit?"

I looked toward the door inside. How could I not? I looked back to Brandon and glanced over quickly. The fox hadn't moved or so much as looked in our direction. I gave Brandon an encouraging nod.

Brandon continued, gushing wildly, "Oh my god. He's so fucking fine, bro."

I raised my brow in response. Brandon was maybe like....24? This guy looked like he was in his 40s. "You like older guys, Brandon?"

"I mean, not usually. But this guy is super hot."

And would eat your inexperienced ass alive. Brandon was a bit reclusive and socially awkward. He had slept with like 3 dudes since his last boyfriend that he had since high school. I had the thought that maybe the fox might even be one of those straight guys who came to gay bars to pick up Bi woman. I cringed. I hoped not.

Brandon watched my face, "You don't think so?"

Right. "I mean, he's attractive. He's just probably twice your age, Brandon."

"That means he's experienced, right?"

Jeezus. "If he's gay at all."

"Why else would he be at a gay bar? I bet he's a gay top. I mean look at that face."

He didn't really look gay. I mean, not that meant anything. He really didn't ping my gaydar either. He was one of the few people here that didn't.

Brandon got a nervous look on his face as he exhaled, "I should go talk to him."

I got sympathetic anxiety just thinking about him doing it. I could tell Brandon needed some social support here, someone to bolster his confidence. I was a wingman tonight. That was my job here. I put my hand on his shoulder. "You should go for it, man. You're a hot young catch, Brandon. He'd be lucky to get in the sack with a cute guy like you."

Brandon beamed with my words but bit his lip. "What do I say?"

Um. I don't know. I couldn't even think of what I would say to him through the anxiety. I huffed. "Not a pickup line. Maybe just try being genuine. I'm sure someone like him would appreciate that."

"Like how?"

I blinked a few times, biting my own lip. "Maybe just tell him you thought he was attractive and wanted to come talk to him." That was the closest thing to what I would do. I added, "Remember to respect his personal space and be polite. You want to start off on a good foot."

Brandon nodded. "Yeah."

I gave him an encouraging smile. "I think he will appreciate you wanting to get to know him a little first. Maybe not but I think it's worth a try." I looked at Brandon's tight shirt and even tighter jeans. The shirt was buttoned up to his collar like mine. "If you want to hedge your bets, you can undo a button on your shirt too. Only if you're comfortable though."

Brandon looked down at his shirt. He unclasped the top button, revealing his collarbones and top of his chest. He took a steeling breath. "Wish me luck bro."

I gave him a heavy nod and he set out after the fox.

I went inside to check on Millie. They were on the dance floor, dancing with a few other young people. I went up to the bar to wave down the bartender for another beer. Brandon joined me a few minutes later. He looked a little dejected, his eyes a little sad. I sighed, knowing what happened. I put my hand on his shoulder again, this time to console him. "What happened?"

He shrugged, trying not to look upset, "He said he wasn't interested."

I tried my best to prop him up, "It's his loss, man."

Brandon nodded, "You're right. I didn't come here to mope. We came here to have fun."

He tried to drag me to the dance floor but I told him I wanted another beer first. Millie offered me their couch or I could take a Lyft to the ferry. I didn't have to drive so I could have a few beers if I wanted. I offered Brandon a drink but he declined, saying something about sober sex. He joined Millie on the dance floor while I tried to wave down the bartender.

I heard a voice behind me as I waited for my drink, deep and articulated, "The pep talk was cute."

I spun, putting myself face to face with the fox. His grey eyes peered down at me, putting my stomach through a meat grinder with his stare. The air left my lungs and my tongue glued to the bottom of my mouth.

He stepped into the empty space beside me at the bar and waved at the bartender. I managed to unglue my tongue long enough to indulge my curiosity, "You turned him down?"

He peered at me curiously, "I'm not really interested in teaching tonight."

My eyebrows went up. Did that mean what I thought it did? Was Brandon too young for him?

The bartender came over. The fox asked me, his lips curling up into a polite smile, "Drink in exchange for an engaging conversation?"

God that was smooth. I did not come here to hook up. I needed to be firm with my expectations here. My anxiety was fraying my thoughts and tensing my muscles. I gazed at the bar. No. I am a middle-aged trans man. I've been through enough of this shit in my life. I won't be played with. I took a breath and conjured some of the fire in my heart that made me ask Katherine back to my place. I gave him a stern look, "I'm not interested in teaching tonight either." I looked back toward the dance floor.

My stomach was burning and wrenching. My heart was racing. He snapped back without pause, "Good. Then we are both here for the same thing. A conversation."

I looked at him and held his eyes. He held mine right back. There was surety in his gaze, a sign we were both on the same page. I still wasn't sure what to make of all this. "Then sure."

The bartender broke the tense moment between us. I gave the fox my drink order. He ordered a bourbon neat. He gave the bartender cash. He turned to me and offered his hand. "Ben."

I knew my palm was sweaty in my nerves. I brushed my hand against my pants before putting it in his. "Tristan. Pronouns are he/him."

"So are mine." He fetched the drinks put before him on the bar and handed me my IPA. I took a sip. He asked his second question of the night, a far less intense question than the first, "What do you do for a living, Tristan?"

"I'm a graphic designer for Infinity Design here in Seattle."

He took a swallow of the bourbon like I imagined James Bond did in the movies in the 70s. "Graphic Design huh? I feel like I could have guessed that."

Did the ferns on my shirt make me look like a creative? I thought it made me look like even more like a hipster. Was it my brown flats?

"Is Infinity one of the larger Graphics firms here in Seattle?"

"Yes, I suppose it is. I've done some of the banner ads for Google."

"Oh then you know Terry Schmitt?"

"No. Whose that?"

He clicked his tongue like he was thinking. "He's the contract coordinator in Marketing. I work for Google."

My eyes went up. Now I understood. "All the contracts go through our admin department before they reach the designers. I don't directly interact with any of our clients typically."

"Oh I see. That makes sense from a business perspective. The designers shouldn't be burdened with the tasks of managing client relations. There's a department for that."

He was definitely big business. Maybe management? "What do you do for Google?"

He swallowed the rest of his bourbon. "I'm in personnel management."

"Like HR?"

"Yes. I do a bunch of other small tasks too. Primarily I supervise the HR office."

Nailed it. He's middle management. I didn't realize Google paid that well in their admin branches. At least Google was a good company ethically. "Been doing it long?"

"Yes. I started as a secretary if you can believe it." He smiled and leaned against the bar.

Actually I could. He had the wilting glare of an impatient secretary naturally. "I can actually. It's your...demeanor."

He chuckled. "You could have said I come off as an asshole. I wouldn't have been offended."

My stomach and muscles relaxed a bit at that. I was still anxious about whether he wanted sex and his queerness. At least talking to him was coming easier. "I would say cold. Not an asshole."

"I suppose. How long have you been a graphic designer?"

Was he digging for an age? "Since college. I went to the Cornish College for the Arts for it."

"So you're a local?"

Maybe not. "Yes. Born and raised. You?"

"Yes. Well I was born in Tacoma."

"Did you go to UW?"

"No. My business degree is from Seattle Pacific University. I wanted to go to a smaller university."

I sipped at my beer. "I understand that. Cornish is tiny by comparison to the other colleges here." He waved down the bartender for another bourbon. The pause in our conversation gave me a chance to get a better look at him. He had attractive features, sharp grey eyes and a refined nose. The lines under his eyes and around his mouth lent to the mature sexy vibe he seemed to give off in waves. I was particularly fond of the shape of his upper lip, the sharp points carving out the dip below his nose. I strangled the stiffening dick in my pants with anxiety.

He looked back at me after his exchange with the bartender. "What do you do for fun? Wait let me guess. Hiking?"

Am I that obvious? "And backpacking. Though I prefer the Olympics over the Cascades."

"On the peninsula?"

"Yep. That's where I live actually for that reason." He nodded. I thought to tease him a bit. I pulled at my shirt. "Let me save you from having to guess that I'm a plant dad too." Millie's words for it still amused me to no end.

"Plant dad? No cats then?"

I gave him a disseminating look. "No. I prefer my ferns, thank you. They don't claw up furniture."

He smiled. "I can tell. Though I have trained Sir Edmonds not to claw my couch, thankfully."

My eyebrow rose. "Your cat's name is Sir Edmonds?"

"Yes. I call him Ed for short."

I snorted a hard laugh. "Your suit is more than my wardrobe and you named your cat after a knight?"

"I promise you. Get a outfit tailored for you and you will never go back. And he is a rather refined gentleman."

I huffed another chuckle. "You assume I make good money as a graphic designer."

His expression got curious. "No?"

"Not really. Not many creative jobs pay well."

"A shame really." He lifted his second bourbon to his lips.

What does a man like him do for fun, other than pick up cute bottoms at the gay bar? "Hobbies include stocks and skiing?"

His brow furrowed and then he smiled. "Neither. I do invest but not for fun. I like reading and grunge music, having been weaned on it growing up here."

I had a funny thought about him reading gay fan fiction but kept it to myself. I wondered if he was gay. My anxiety came back. I wonder how passing I was tonight. Could he see my binder? Did I sound like a girl like when I recorded? The what flavor of queer question was becoming more and more pressing in our conversation. I felt like I couldn't ask it without insinuating I wanted sex.

Millie and Brandon bounced over from the dance floor, faces flush with perspiration. Mille's eyes lit up at seeing my conversation partner. Brandon's eyes were a mixture of confusion and betrayal. My gut wrenched back down hard.

Millie leapt onto my arm, "Whose this, Tristan?"

I couldn't take my eyes from Brandon, desperately trying to convey we were just talking through my expression to him.

Ben noticed the look between Brandon and I. He offered Millie his hand, "Ben. I was just boring Tristan here with my interest in grunge music."

Brandon still looked uncomfortable, stuck in this social group with Ben. My anxiety came back in force, taking my voice. I bit my lip. Millie took Ben's hand happily. They beamed as they said, "Tristan likes jazz music which is boring too."

Ben kept his eyes on Millie as he said, "Let me guess. You like pop music."

Millie nodded vehemently, "I love Demi Lovato. Their my idol."

Ben looked exasperated, "I'll be honest. I have no idea who that is."

I was still trying to silently reassure Brandon that this situation was NOT what he thought it was when Ben looked between us again. Brandon still looked uncomfortable and betrayed, his eyes narrow at me.

Millie was about to explain who Demi Lovato was when Ben spoke to Brandon. "I believe that look should be pointed at me, not him."

Millie got a huh look on their face. Brandon and I just stared shocked at Ben.

Ben didn't falter, using his hand to gesture toward himself. "You'll have to forgive my forwardness. I'm simply too old for such drama." He turned toward Brandon, giving my young friend the full attention of his flaying stare. "Tristan was standing at the bar when I wanted a drink. He is the only person here even close to my age range and without an obvious agenda to get laid. I assumed the young lady here is his partner when you propositioned me."

Wow that was a lot. Brandon wilted under Ben's intense gaze. I immediately bit out, "Young person. Not lady."

Ben eyes met mine. "Forgive me. Young person."

I managed to get out with a tongue of lead, "It's just a misunderstanding. Millie and I aren't dating. I'm their wingman tonight. I was just being friendly when Ben talked to me."

Brandon looked at both of us and now he just looked... even more uncomfortable. Guilty like a dog that got into the pantry.

Millie thanked me with a smile and piped up, "Did I miss something here?"

Ben eyes softened. "I'm going to go out for a smoke. It was a pleasure speaking to you, Tristan."

I looked back at Ben, feeling bad about the whole thing. "You too, Ben."

I explained what happened to Millie. Brandon tapped out after that. Millie and I called it quits too, parting in front of the bar. I felt like a wrung out washcloth as I sat in the back of the Lyft to the ferry terminal. I would text Brandon to resolve the misunderstanding. I hoped he would understand and forgive me. I didn't want him to be mad at me. While Ben was attractive, I wasn't really interested in sex with him. I needed a whole conversation about gender and sexuality before that could even be on the table. All that anxiety and I would probably never even see Ben again.