Claiming Danny
There was a small group of us over-fifty crowd, most of us coal miners, that huddled in a corner of the one gay bar in town and bitched about the stuck-up boys from the little liberal arts college who wouldn’t give us any. We always jawed on about what we would do to one of them if we ever got a chance. Then one day, I was there with a friend, Howard, and he told me something incredible.
“I f****d one of those Zayre College boys finally,” he said, his face just glowing. “Several times. He’s a fantastic bottom boy.”
“Well, you always have all the luck,” I said. I’m sure my tone told him I was both pissed and jealous.
He smiled. “Relax,” he said, “I’m your bud.” He handed me a phone number. “His name is Danny.”
“Say what?” I yelled. “You’re sharing him with me?”
“It’s hi
