This story has homosexual elements.

     Sad, but what else is this hot mess supposed to do?  I flashed through all the tragic events that led me ... To what?  The middle of nowhere, dressed in full leather, driving a hoopdy with one headlight on monkey watch, down back roads, that's what.  All to go to the only gay bar in five counties.  I shook my head.  West Texas.

     Drink.  Demon Alcohol opened doors I had no business messing with.  Not me.  Drink.  Before I get to tonight, there's one stop to make.  Cigarettes.  Any good alchoholic/smoker knows you can't have one without the other.  Just one more must stop I would rather not, at least not like this.

     I got out of the heap, a gay wet dream stepping from nightmare to the glow of neon.  Back to hell again, I walked through the door of the convenience store into florescent light.  Two guys stood at the counter.  They stared.  And why not?  Your outfit cost more than your car.  You've got waist length hair under a spiked motorcycle cap.  They may not be able to see your mascara laden eyes under the shadow of the brim but they'll see those lips are painted.  Jesus, what were you thinking?

     One dude, typical red neck, the other guy, high school quarterback in a cut sleeve shirt.  Those arms!  Bad ass billy biceps also had a cleft chin, five o'clock shadow and big blue eyes icing the beef cake.  Only one way to deal with this.

     "You in line?" I asked as if I wore regular clothes and weighed one eighty instead of a buck twenty five.  Gawd the balls on you!

     Quarter back, stunned, raised his meaty, muscled arm to point the available spot in front of the teller, as if to say, "Go ahead."

      I turned from them, faced the teller with a brand on my lips and indifference that left no doubt they ceased to exist on my radar.

     Red neck went to another aisle.  Quarter back turned his shoulders to follow me.  Those shoulders were wide, his hips narrow.  He's on my radar alright.  It took an eternity to find my brand.  It forced me to acknowledge the constant stare.  His smile surprised me.

     A full set of white, wolfish, and sexy teeth finished his eager expression.  Why couldn't he be older?  This is a puppy, a big puppy, twenty five or six, but a puppy all the same. I'd never tell him how old I was.  It all conspired against me.  My veneer cracked.  I smiled.

     That's all it took.  As if a moment of discomfort never existed between us, he rushed in, touched my shoulders, my hat, the snap on my jacket lapel.  The quick excited movements and the rivers of pheromones he gave off told all.  I knew then.

     He's couldn't hear me.  He couldn't hear!