I'm an out gay man, and I'm ferociously necking with a woman. And then we're kissing-no, we're making out.
We shoot it to each other, almost simultaneously, knowing that the moment is coming.
I throw back the rest of my beer and slide the glass toward the bartender. We're however many drinks in-that's inconsequential, really, but alcohol is always motivating-and leaning into each another with droopy lids and grinning mouths. I'm in the early hours of the morning, ponied up to a bar with a few friends, among them a strikingly beautiful, model-tall female we'll call Shannon.
