Satyrdays: Maverick

First- a shout out to the HIGFFL! Their 6th season kicks off today with games at 10:30 and 12:30 at Kapiolani Park. We’re a proud sponsor and encourage other athletic supporters!


It’s SATYRDAY at Bacchus. We return to the day and night to let our fantasies run wild. A $6 Jack cocktail (the Saturday Bacchus special) will ease your mind ...you’ve read fantasy books, seen fantasy movies and even played a fantasy role in your latest Scruff/Grindr/Tinder profile... Live one today, you just might meet…

The Maverick

As promised April 7th, below is our second reader-submitted Satyr story.

Vince took a deep breath and walked into the noisy bar. His eyes needed a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness. He wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible so he plunged ahead assuming the space in front of a door should be clear of obstacles.

He realized the flaw in his logic a split second too late when he crashed into something that didn’t seem too steady to begin with, and stumbled into a table.

“Ouch! Fuck! Shit!”

Vince heard prolific swearing and the sounds of a struggle and saw that he had inadvertently pushed a guy into a bar stool. He reached out to help him up but he was too busy brushing the ice from the spilled drink off his chest to notice. So Vince waited for the guy to right himself with considerable effort.

The guy’s friend that stood on his other side – she wore too much makeup and not enough clothing – she seemed happy to let him struggle through his misfortune alone.

When the guy finally got to his feet, Vince’s heart sank. It was Steven Berman, a jock and a bully that went to his high school. He was two years older than Vince, probably the reason he managed to avoid Steve’s personal brand of harassment. Steve was famous for hating, as he so eloquently put it, geeks, freaks and faeries, and took great pleasure in making their lives a living hell. Since Vince fell in at least two of those categories, he thought it was in his best interest to get out of the bar now.

Vince mumbled an apology to no one in particular and hurried past the woman. She was yelling obscenities at Steve and stomping her feet. Apparently she was breaking up with him and within minutes she stormed off and left Steve shellshocked and close to tears in his semi-drunken state.

Vince wanted nothing to do with Steve so he went over to where Andrew was pouring drinks behind the bar.

Two club sodas and a generous helping of Jägermeister later Vince left the bar and hurried outside to his car. As he rounded the corner to his car Aloha Drive, he almost tripped over Steve for the second time in one night.

Steve sat with his back against Vince’s front tire, looking into the distance. He appeared to be lost in some kind of drunken sorrow. As much as Vince wanted to avoid talking to him Steve, it was now a necessary evil.

“Uh, hi, Steve. Can you get up please? I need to leave.”

Either Steve hadn’t heard him or he was ignoring Vince. So Vince walked up to him and waved his hand in front of his face a few times.

“Steve, I’m sorry that your life sucks right now, but I need to get home. There are plenty of other cars you can lean against…”

“I’m broken,” a heart wrenching sob tore through Steve’s body. He didn’t look like an asshole right then. On the contrary, he looked like a sad, lost boy who needed someone to save him.

“Let me take you home,” Vince said as he held out his hand. Steve just stared at Vince’s hand and then at his eyes.

“I don’t know where you live,” he slurred.

“I’m taking you to your home, not mine. Come on, I don’t have all night.”

After a bit of a struggle, Vince managed to get Steve into the car. The got onto the Ala Wai and headed west.

“Steve, I need your address. Steve?”

He was completely unresponsive. That posed a bit of a problem.

“God damn it Steve!”

Vince snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s face, and he slowly turned tear-filled eyes toward him. Suddenly all Vince’s anger evaporated at the sight of the teardrops running down Steve’s cheeks. He pulled off the road and used a hankie to wipe Steve’s face, then grossed out a little when he also took the liberty to blow his nose in it.

“Where do you live Steve?” Vince asked gently. Steve stared at him for a moment like he didn’t understand the question.

“In a house. No, in a condo. Wait,” he suddenly giggled, then grew somber. “In a box. I live in a giant box.” He held his pose for a second before he burst out in more giggles. Vince was going to get angry, but he thought Steve looked kind of cute when he was drunk.

“Okay Steve, let’s go home. My home.”

The time passed slowly as they arrived at Vince’s house and went inside. Vince led Steve to the guest room and put out a towel. Steve was undressing before Vince left the room. Shirtless with his pants around his ankles (briefs, not boxers), Steve fell over onto the bed and was sleeping within moments. Though the night, every now and then, he gave out a loud snore.

The next morning, Vince got up and took a shower. About an hour later he heard feet shuffle down the hall before Steve appeared in the doorframe, disheveled and disoriented. His hair stood up in all directions and his face was shadowed by morning stubble. He looked sexy.

“Good morning,” Vince said softly and pushed a glass of water and two aspirin toward Steve. He took them without a word, then slumped into a chair where he cradled his head.

“I don’t remember much,” Steve said, his voice still husky from sleep. He hesitated and then blushed.

“Did we…You and I, did we…” Steve struggled with the thought for a few moments before he looked at Vince helplessly.

“You and I? Yes, yes indeed.”

“Fuuuck.” Steve drew out the word into one long, dark syllable as he considered what Vince said had happened. Vince carefully watched as different emotions flitted across Steve’s face. After a long time, Steve seemed to finally settle on resignation before he looked at Vince.

“Was I any good?”

“Yes you were.”

Steve looked momentarily relieved, but that quickly turned to discomfort.

“I'm sorry, I really don’t remember anything. I guess…” he squirmed a little in his seat and glanced nervously around the kitchen. “I guess I could make sure I’m sober next time.”

Vince didn’t want to tell Steve that nothing really happened, but was enjoying this too much.

“Last night you were beautiful. You still are beautiful, right now, right here.”

“You think… I’m beautiful?” Steve asked shyly.

Vince smiled, “Yes, most definitely.”

“Can we change that to something more masculine? Like, handsome?”

“You are also very handsome, Steve, but those two things aren’t the same.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Steve rose from his seat, smirked and took a step toward Vince.

“Yessss,” Vince said distractedly as Steve’s lips slowly descended toward his.

Then Steve kissed Vince long and hard. This time, Steve remembered everything.

Come spend the afternoon and/or evening with us at Bacchus!

JL