Thursday, 24 December 2009

Hot Chocolate

Virgil once told me that if one ever runs in to sex party people in real life it's at odd moments. So it was apposite that yesterday night, when he, my Mum, my sister and I came out of the theatre and were looking for somewhere to get a drink, we should be near __. This area is something of a black hole for nice cosy places for hot chocolate, and it was starting to rain.

Finally I remembered a small, independent gay cafe I had frequented in more female-centric days when I had a girlfriend and wore baggy Carhartts. It's really relaxed, with nice cakes, salads and herbal teas. It was right across the street.

We all trooped in. Virgil and the cute man serving at the counter exchanged smiles and a hello. We drank our hot drinks and discussed the merits of the lead actors in the musical we'd seen. As an aside, Virgil whispered to me that the man at the bar was the man at the sex party whose balls he had recently played with. At the party he had been playing a living doll. I remembered him from a kinky cafe that used to be nearby. He would bare his sculpted chest for the viewing pleasure of the clientele while he served them coffee and cake.

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