I didn't let much time pass, and the following week I was already there.

The place was fantastic, with a long bar to the left and small tables to the right, also in line with the bar.

Then, there was a turn to the left and a second area with more tables, armchairs, and a pool table.

Between the two areas, there were two golden metal tassel curtains with a passageway in between that led to the bathroom.

You could position yourself there and look at both sides without being seen by the people, which made it ideal for me as it was the first gay bar I visited.

I ordered my usual Dick with Coca-Cola, and, oh, they didn't have Dyc, so I pretended to be upset, as I always do when a bar doesn't have Dyc. They searched and found a 12-year-old Dyc and gave it to me. I took my drink to the spot between the two rooms and watched the scene.

At that time, my friend P, whom I've told you about, was only one year older, but he had a body and head that seemed older. And at that moment, the people who met all my requirements were those older than me by 15 to 20 years, and of course, they had to be chubby.

When I saw a chubby guy playing pool, which made me sigh, and thinking about how to approach him, suddenly, on the opposite side... I SAW HIM.

My God, what a stunning man I had in front of me! It was him, my beloved Santi.

He was wearing a suit and tie because he came from work at that hour, as he was a cashier at a bar in a large hotel in Madrid. Gorgeous, no, even better. He was 38 years old (16 years older than me), 1.70 meters tall, and 125 kg, which gave him a nice belly and beautiful, fleshy male breasts. He was blond with beautiful blue eyes. He was... impressive.

I forgot about the chubby guy at the pool table, who later turned out to be his best friend.

At that moment, the pub didn't exist; only he and I did, and I had to think quickly about how to approach him, because right then, he was standing up. I didn't see him as he passed by because the small tables in that bar had only one light source, which was the lit candle on the table.

I crossed the curtain and, like a fool, asked him if he had a lighter. I had to say something, and that's what came out, which is the most basic thing in the good hunter's manual, but it worked out well.

He was sitting with Mr. García, a lovely old man who was the owner of the place, and with the public relations person, a thin, blond man, also a sweetheart.

Within 10 minutes, I was already sitting with them. I remember asking them to turn off the candle. They always did that when I sat down until I got over my foolishness. They welcomed me very well, and the most important thing was that Santi and I were starting to get to know each other.

During all that time, I didn't think about P. I had arrived at that bar by chance, but because he had left for his sabbatical year. If not, I wouldn't h...