Walking starts loosening my muscles, and I feel lighter as I get closer to the bar. Sometimes, Tallis and I can be guilty of holing up in our house and thinking of the town as a little, well, beneath us. And yeah, places like the underwater-themed motel and dinosaur-themed pizza place are kind of cheesy and shabby. But they also have charm.
This is part of Oliver’s magic. He has me looking at things that have faded into the backdrop with fresh, hopeful eyes. In this moment, I vow to get more involved with the local community, especially the queers. It’s not just students who come and go, after all. We know from the kink scene that people settle down and make their lives here, just like we have. It would be nice to drag myself away from my computer every once in a while and be more sociable.
The Ice Cream Parlor certainly attracts visitors from all over Indiana and even out of state. I’m not sure who the owner is, but it’s clear they’ve poured their heart and soul into making this sparkling queer oasis a success. I’m very grateful for that.
As I turn the corner, the red neon sign boldly announces the bar’s location, welcoming everyone. The plastic ice cream cone sculpture standing by the door looks a little worse for wear, but the fact that it’s glittering in the evening sunshine makes up for the few dents and scratches it’s accumulated over the years.
A bouncer nods at me as I enter. Part of me is tempted to be offended that he didn’t ask for my ID, but I’m well aware those days are long past me. Funnily enough, my age has never made me feel uncomfortable coming here. There is absolutely a high, feminine energy to the place which attracts a lot of twinks, but all kinds of people also come here to enjoy the atmosphere as well as hook-up with the pretty party boys. I used to love dancing in my youth, wearing bright colored sparkly clothes and even a little eyeliner if I was feeling bold. The only reason I don’t dress up like that now is mostly because I’m tired and Tallis far prefers O’Toole’s pub, where the older gay crowd likes to hang.
Maybe if I had a cute young boyfriend, we could come here a bit more often.
Despite the fact that it’s barely seven o’clock on a Thursday, the bar is already hopping. A pop song I don’t know is blasting over the music system, and several people are already on theblack-and-white checkered dance floor. Most of the red leather booths are occupied and disco lights flash off the mint green walls. The VIP area—a real Cadillac convertible, also mint green—looks to be hosting a birthday party for someone’s twenty-first, judging by the helium balloons.
I take all this in as I scan for Oliver. Just as I’m wondering if I’ve beaten him here, he leans out from one of the booths and waves eagerly at me.
My heart flips in my chest like a goddamned teenager. It’s delightful.
I wave back with a grin, quickly heading his way. He jumps up and looks between me and the table that’s still out of my line of sight. He wrings his hands, suddenly looking anxious.
That won’t do.
“Hi!” he cries breathlessly as I reach him. “I got over-excited and ordered us drinks. But they’re quite strong and I realized you’re probably driving, so we can just order something else, it’s fine, I just?—”
I finally get close enough to wrap my arm around his lower back and yank him against me. He blinks up at me in confusion.
“I’m not driving,” I tell him with a knowing grin.
He blinks some more, then relaxes a little against me. “Oh, that’s good then.”
I laugh and appreciate his smell and shape and face and everything perfect. “Hello, little treat,” I say as quietly as I can over the music. Not that I’d expect anyone in this place to kink shame. This is just a special moment that I want for only us two.
It’s as if something clicks in Oliver’s brain. He blinks once more then smiles shyly up at me, his cheeks rosy and his breath hitched. “Hi, Daddy,” he utters.
And suddenly, everything is right with my world again.
“Shall we sit?” I suggest. He nods and takes my hand to pull me down into the booth beside him. That little act of confidencemakes my heart sing. “What drinks did you order?” I ask as I put my messenger bag down on the other side of me.
“Um, Long Island Floats,” he tells me, stirring his straw so his scoop of ice cream spins slowly in the glass. “I haven’t tried it before, but it looked fun, so I thought I’d get us one each to mark the occasion. But then I realized I should have checked first, and, um…”
I reach out and cover his hand with mine on the table, immediately calming him. He looks up at me with raised eyebrows. “Thank you for ordering something for us,” I tell him earnestly. Of course as a Daddy, I want to take care of my boy. However, I love how thoughtful and generous Oliver is. “That was really sweet of you. They sound great. But if they’re strong, perhaps we should order some food to go with them?”
“Oh, good idea, Da—” he snaps his mouth shut, like he’s not sure if he should keep using that word. As if to prove my point, he glances around furtively, as if expecting to see someone spying on us.
It’s adorable.
“Would you like Daddy to go order us some fries?” I ask, hoping that if I use the word, he’ll feel confident enough to as well if that’s what he wants.
I really hope that’s what he wants.
He squirms bashfully beside me and nods. “Okay, Daddy,” he says breathlessly. “And maybe some chicken wings?”
“You got it, baby boy,” I tell him with a wink, triumph bursting in my heart. I really want to kiss him in that moment, but it’s obvious we have some things to discuss first. So instead, I just squeeze his hand, then move my bag so I can head to the bar.
Luckily, I get served pretty quickly so I don’t have to leave him alone for long. Not that I think he’ll wander off or abandon me for someone else in only a few minutes. I don’t want him to feel neglected is all.
The staff will bring our food when it’s ready, so I get a couple of ice waters and make my way back to the booth. Oliver is fiddling with his phone, but as soon as he sees me return, he beams and puts it back in his pocket.
“That was fast,” he comments happily.