“Hi—can I buy you a drink?”
Greg could feel his heart pounding violently In his chest as he managed to answer, faintly, “Yes—thanks.” It was a standard come-on line and Greg had heard it often enough before—and had answered “no”--but this guy was different. Greg had been watching him, not even daring to cruise e him, for twenty minutes before, to his amazement, the guy had strolled directly over to him to pop the question. 
“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Grinning, the guy glanced at the empty beer bottle Greg still clutched to see what brand it was and sauntered over to the bar through the crowd of gay men who were drinking, smoking, talking in loud voices, dancing, or doing a combination of these things simultaneously. Greg watched the man order the drinks and pay for them. It was dark in the bar, but Greg had gotten a good look at his potential trick. The stud was older than Greg (who used a fake ID. to get into the bars), probably in his early twenties; he had a solid, muscular body, and he wasn’t shy about showing it off—his tight-fitting jeans were patched and threadbare, clinging g to every bulge in his thighs and ass; his T-shirt was a…