The man with the yellow bag

There he is again. At the end of the bar, chatting amiably with Joey the bartender. Nice body. Maybe a runner or a swimmer. Dressed like one, too. Short salt-and-pepper hair, smooth face. He takes another sip of his soda and lime, scans the busy room again with those piercing blue eyes. Briefly looks my way. The half smile, the wink. Again.

It's late summer. College is starting back up in a few weeks. By now I'm bored of casual vanilla hook-ups, but there's something going on here I can't quite figure out. If we're not flirting, what *are* we doing? What does he want? Every time he's here, he shows up with this vaguely familiar, pastel-colored bag over his shoulder. Places it on the stool next to him, and there it stays.

Now he's going to the washroom. Fuck it. I walk over to his spot at the bar, peer into the mystery bag while Joey's busy and *WHAM*: I'm like a deer in the headlights. I'm looking at a full baby bottle with a rubbery teat, talc, skin cream, wipes, and the telltale folds of three oversized, colorful diapers. No wonder the bag seems familiar: my mom has exactly the same one in all my old baby pics.

A firm voice, very close: 'Did you lose something, sport?' I'm rooted to the spot, unable to turn, my face on fire, knees like jello. I splutter some nonsense in reply.

'Speak up, kiddo. Maybe you dropped your keys in my diaper bag?' Friendly. But firm. 'Tell you what, I've seen you here a few times, Joey says you're good people. How about I take you home and take care of you for a day or two?' This as he ruffles my hair playfully. 'Come on Curious George: go ahead and drop your keys *and* your wallet in my yellow bag, and we'll go right now, OK? It's not far.'

I'm consumed with embarrassment. Sure everyone is staring at me. A hard-on like iron in my jeans. I gulp. Mumble. And now my hands have made up my mind for me. They dig out my keys and my wallet and drop them into the diaper bag. Plop.

What have I done?

'Come on, son, decision made, no turning back. Hold daddy's hand.' Dumbly, I slide mine into his. He takes my lite beer and places it on the bar. Joey takes it away and smiles at me approvingly. Dizzy, I allow myself to be led outside like a little kid. He steers me across the street, not unkindly, unlocks his car, places me in the back seat. Leans in. Buckles me up. He smells good. And we're off.

'So Joey says you're local too? Who knew we have friends in common?' I try to focus on the storefronts and the early evening dinner crowd, heart racing. 'I'm surprised he hasn't set us up before.' (Is *that* what just happened?) 'My summer house is another two blocks. Great view of the river.' I look down at my hands in my lap. How much has he figured out? What gave me away?

'Maybe I can take care of you the whole weekend? If you're not enjoying yourself you can walk back downtown in five minutes or I'll happily drive you. Day or night. But I really think we can have a lot of fun. Anyway, our theme for the next day or two is clearly settled, kiddo, but Daddy needs to know something very important. Are you listening?'

'Yes.'

'Yes, what?'

*Gulp*. The blood rises in my cheeks again. I can barely breathe.

'Yes. *Pops*.'

'Not quite, sweetie. Try again.'

My heart is about to explode. A pause.

'Yes. *Daddy*.'

'Good boy! OK, listen carefully: is our time together going to be G, PG, or full on X? Do you understand the question?'

'Yes. Daddy.' My head says G, my dick says X. 'Um, PG?'

'Ok goldilocks, PG it is. And we'll use red, yellow, green, if you know that one.'

He catches me rolling my eyes in the mirror. Of course I know red, yellow, green. I wasn't born yesterday.

'Easy there tiger. Just checking.'

We pull into a fancily paved driveway in front of a newish timbered house with a big porch. And it is indeed right by the river, on a secluded plot.

'Wait right there for me, little one.'

He comes around the back of the car, opens my door, leans in, unbuckles me. Did I mention he smells really nice? Now he's got my hand in his, diaper bag over his shoulder, and is leading me through the huge wooden front door.

Daddy puts the bag down, and wastes no time undressing me. I can't look him in the eyes but this is everything I didn't know I wanted. Hoodie, sneakers, pants. Folds everything neatly. 'Look at you, skinny boy!' It's true. There I am in the big hallway mirror, smooth and slim in my tighty-whities.

'X.'

'Sorry, hon?'

'X.'

'Oh! You mean not G- or PG-rated? We're upgrading to X?'

I nod sheepishly. Daddy promptly slips his hand into his jeans, roots around, pulls it out, and dabs my lips with a wet, sticky index finger. Locks eyes with me. 'For the next two days, baby boy, your cute little butt belongs to Daddy. Understand?'

I lick my lips cheekily, smile and nod. 'Yes. *Daddy*.'