Good day, my friends! Welcome back for another rather personal, yet light-hearted – light and airy – story from my past. My own little Christmas story, without the BB gun. 😂
My gristly little tale – kidding – started on my usual return home, back to North Carolina, for the holidays. The year was 1995, and I was already living in Atlanta. Back then, I would return to The Power Company in Durham to hang out and stay with my friend Teresa rather than get a hotel, because I’m a cheap Taurus. Ha!
It was December 23, 1995, and after hanging out with Teresa, I set out for The Power Company (which still featured prominently in my life at this time, following the Phil, Charles Enzor and Darrell storylines!). Please click on the Charles Enzor link to see last week’s post talking about The Power Company, on which I probably should do a blog post LOLOL 😂🤣
Anyway, before I left, I remember joking to Teresa that maybe I would go out and meet a Hispanic guy and end up with Hispanic in-laws. At this point in my story, I was starting to really desire Hispanic men in a big way!
Anyway, I arrived at The Power Company and no doubt parked on that same deck where I shared MANY kisses with Charles. The memories came flooding back of him and even Phil, but mostly Charles. However, I didn’t wish to involve myself with anyone at this time. My relationship with the married man of two years was over, and I did not want to meet anyone. That was most certainly not my intention. LOTS of backstory that I promise to cover in another blog post down the road. 😉😀
But anyway, I paid the usual cover and entered the bar. The first thing I did was enter the main bar. There are three floors to The Power Company: The middle main bar with the dance floor; the downstairs part with coat check, a bar, a bookstore, and a huge video screen and lounge area; and the top bar and mezzanine.
As soon as I entered the main bar, I was surrounded by the thump, thump, thump of the bass, pounding from the enormous speakers pumping out whatever dance song was hot at the time. (It could have been the above song, which was hot at the time.) I wanted to get my cocktail, which I believe at the time was still Brandy Alexanders or Kahlua and Cream. Fancy! So, I went up on the mezzanine and into the top bar and got my drink. I sat down, first, on one of the many rather cushy and comfy couches surrounding the top bar. My first thought was actually, ‘maybe I’ll run into Phil.’ But this time as a friend, not trying to pursue him. That was over. My how I’d grown up in the past six years! LOLOLOL
The top bar had a huge window that stretched across the length of the bar so you could look out onto the dance floor and see all of the hot guys grooving and vogueing. I watched the show for a while, and then I went back to the mezzanine to further observe, peruse and survey to see who I knew, something I often did there in the past.
My eagle eye finally caught a former trick from when I lived there. I recognized the face, but the hair was different, much shorter. But I knew that because he hadn’t worn his rock-star type hair real long since that first night I met him at The Power Company six Christmases ago! I suddenly had a flashback to Christmas 1989! I remembered when Nick took over that night and slept with Ricky Mann at the Heart of Durham Hotel! I snapped out of my catatonia and made my way over to Ricky and spoke. He looked up and grinned, then we embraced. He was there with his cousin, who was black. Don’t ask. Okay. Ricky, who was white, had black in-laws. Brief introductions were made. Tony was his name, and before long we were on the dance floor. At first we were dancing, but soon Tony disappeared and it was just Ricky and me. There was one time we were standing on one side of the bar – where the lesbians normally stood – taking a break when I first laid eyes on HIM.
He was the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen at The Power Company, EVER! Hell anywhere! He was short, slender, had dark-hair, dark eyes, and a hint of a moustache and goatee. He looked Mexican. Oh, God HE WAS HOT!!! He was on the dance floor, and he was wearing this bone white coat that hung slightly below his ass. I noticed he was dancing with this tall, heavy-set girl, and I wondered if they were together together. I didn’t care, because while I was talking to boring Ricky I kept stealing glances at this guy.
This is how the night went on, me talking to Ricky while simultaneously checking this guy out. The bar had thinned out, which STILL left a rather huge crowd of people in the bar. Ricky and I were dancing, and I noticed that this guy was dancing alone. And he was so cute. He was still wearing his coat. I would try to dance near him, and of course he noticed me. I wanted him to say something, but he never did. At least I got a glance or two out of him. Well, Ricky and I eventually tired and sat down facing the dance floor on the opposite side of the bar. I noticed that my guy from the dance floor and his female companion had returned and together they ended up standing exactly above Ricky and me. Hmmm. Could it be I was being spied upon? Could it be they were not together together? Hmmm!
Ricky and I sat and talked, and it didn’t take me long to realize that Ricky was quite depressed. I tried in vain to shake him out of it, but to no avail. He just wanted to be miserable. I tried to ask why he was feeling so blue. His response? Loneliness, mostly due to the holidays, which is understandable. I tried to seduce him, figuring maybe that would cheer him up. No good. He was too far gone. So, I kept turning around and staring up at that sexy guy, exchanging glances with him. He had the darkest, sexiest eyes. It was sort of hard to tell in the dark if he was actually staring back at me, but when the strobe lights hit his handsome face, I could tell that he was.
Ricky and his depressed state were getting on my damn nerves! It was hard to believe that this was the same man who picked me up six years prior. He was a shell of his former self, complaining that he had gotten old and fat. While he was throwing the pity party for one, I managed to get a smile out of that guy because I smiled at him. I wanted so much to say something to him.
Finally Ricky’s cousin came over and announced that he was ready to go. Ricky and I exchanged hugs and wished each other a Merry Christmas. And then they left, leaving me to stare up at Mr. Moustache. At one point, though, when I was glancing out at the dance floor pondering what to do, I noticed that his female companion was pushing the sexy guy out the door, literally! He was leaning back against her, resisting her as if he didn’t want to go. In that instant I felt sad, yet good at the same time. Sad because he was leaving, but good because he obviously wanted to stay, maybe because of me. I thought to myself, ‘Oh, well, he’s gone.’ So, I waited another 5 or 10 minutes, then I left, as well.
I was heading for my car (this time I was able to get a space in front of the club as opposed to the deck) when suddenly from out of nowhere this big, tan Cadillac came barreling through the parking lot nearly striking me! I instantly turned around and noticed it was him! That sexy guy was driving! He apparently never left, though his female companion was in the car with him. Did he stick around because of me? I wanted him to stop, but he kept on driving. Christ, he was fucking beautiful! But I thought, ‘Oh, well. Who cares? I’ll never see him again. I’m through with men anyway!’ I had just broken up with my married man. I didn’t need the aggravation. However, that night on Teresa’s couch, I dreamt about that mysterious stranger …
The next day I did not mention the guy or the dream to Teresa. I figured I just dreamt about a really hot guy and that was that. Teresa and I had breakfast and hung out that day until nightfall, then I got ready for Capital Corral. We had planned to leave together at 8 a.m. the next morning to go home for Christmas. That meant I was supposed to cut my trip to CC short. Except it didn’t happen that way …
I got to CC and for some reason, I thought that maybe I’d run into Mr. Moustache again, though it was unlikely that I’d get a 2nd chance. However, I was proven, like, SO WRONG when I realized lightning can strike twice. I was posing near the entrance to CC, and he walked by me into the area where the pool table was located near the barber’s chair where Charles sat that time I fed him and Victor popcorn all those years ago … Memories … And now Charles was gone…forever.
Anyway, I knew I had to say something to him, because what if I didn’t get another chance? Moments later I saw him standing by the entrance to, I suppose was, the ladies’ room. I walked up to him and stood there a moment behind him. Then I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and smiled at me. Oh God he was as gorgeous as ever!!!! Those dark piercing eyes, that moustache and goatee, and that jet black hair that looked just a little slicked back. He was definitely Mexican, and he was most definitely HOT!!!!! I then opened my mouth for the very first time to speak to him, praying I didn’t say something stupid or sound stupid:
“Hello? How are you?”
“Fine. And you?” He replied with a thick accent I found incredibly sexy.
“I’m all right. Do you mind if I ask you how old you are?” (Dumb!) I was in the company of such gorgeousness, I didn’t know what else to say.
“Guess!” Oh he was sharp. I stared at him for awhile. He looked to be in his 20s, maybe mid-to-late.
“27.” I guessed.
He smiled and said he was 24.
“You carry yourself older.” (Dumb and dumber) But isn’t that what everyone told me?
I continued. “My name is Derek. What is yours?” I asked eagerly.
“Jorge.”
Jorge. Jorge. Jorge. So, his name was Jorge. What a beautiful name for such a beautiful, little man. He was wearing a tan, long-sleeve cotton shirt and matching tan jeans. I asked him if he wanted to sit and talk, because clearly he was interested from the way he continued to grin this cute, sexy little half grin and cock his left eyebrow up. He said yes, but he wanted to tell his friends first. We marched up onto the dance floor where his female friend and about 3 or 4 other Mexican guys were sitting or standing around the blocks up there. Jorge said something to them in Spanish, and then they all looked at me and began checking me out. They must have thought he was going to take me somewhere and duck my brains out! No, instead we went back into the main pool area and sat on the couch behind the pool table. This is where I began to get to know Jorge.
I learned his name was Jorge Cortez and yes, he was from Mexico. He had only been in the United States about 6 months, having first gone to live in California with relatives. He hated it until a friend suggested he move to N.C. He liked N.C. much better. He was a painter, no not Rembrandt. He painted buildings for a living, working for some company in Raleigh. I noticed a bracelet that he was wearing that bore the name “AGUIRRE.” I asked him about that, and he explained that it was one of his names. We continued to talk, and I boldly asked him if he had a boyfriend. He smiled and said, no. He then asked me the same, and I told him, no not anymore. I told him that I had just broken up. And that is all I told him. And to this day that’s all he knows about that. He said he had broken up, too. He then launched into this very strange tale about his ex. He told me he dated this guy for about 6 months, but it took a bad turn. He said that the guy called his parents in Mexico and told them that Jorge was dead! That wasn’t very nice.
During the entire time we were talking, I was holding Jorge’s hands. I looked up and saw Phil standing near the barber’s chair! I remember thinking ‘Eat your fucking heart out Phil, and choke on it, bitch!’ I should have realized the two of them looked an awful lot alike… perhaps I do go after the same type of guys.
We continued to talk until I asked him if he wanted to come sit in my car and talk some more. He smiled and agreed to go out to my car and talk. It was so cold outside. The chill in the air reminded me of previous December nights at CC. Yes, one in particular: The night I saw Charles, and he was so emaciated. But that was a black, ICE COLD night. No, this one seemed to have a little warmth in the air.
We got to my car and I stared at the small figure standing and shivering at my passenger-side door. He was oh, so gorgeous! I was grinning like a naïve schoolboy about to have his first kiss. I must admit I was a little nervous and didn’t know what to expect. I opened the door for him, and he climbed in. I decided to do like that Italian kid in A Bronx Tale starring Robert De Niro where his son, that kid, lets the black girl into his car. This older guy had told him if he wanted to know if this was the one, walk behind the car, and if she leaned over and unlocked the driver’s side for you, you’d know. Guess what? Jorge did! Silly I know. But what was that, again, about Hispanic in-laws? 😉
Anyway, he got inside my car and we continued to talk. For some reason he ended up showing me his driver’s license, which said “Javier Muro Aguirre.” His license showed that his birthdate was July 13, 1971 – A Cancer. Compatible with my sign, Taurus. Of course I asked why his license said “Javier Muro Aguirre” and not “Jorge Cortez.” His explanation: His entire name wouldn’t fit on there, and I believed it. Uh-huh. I didn’t care who he was. I just wanted to talk. Besides, you know I was no stranger to giving out other names.
I told him I was from Atlanta and he grimaced. “That’s a long way,” he said. “Oh yes,” was my reply. He told me that his wicked ex- boyfriend resided in Atlanta. I didn’t care about that either. (Years later, I met a guy living in Atlanta, who also knew Javier. They hooked up a couple of times, but this was AFTER I was with Javier. Interesting …)
He continued to stare deeply into my eyes. His stare washed over me like slinky silk. He was drawing me in little by little with his gaze. We continued to talk, and it didn’t seem to matter the subject. Just listening to him turned me on. His accent was very thick, and I found myself melting.
We got on the subject of Spanish, and I got him to teach me some Spanish phrases.
“What do you want to say?” He asked me smiling.
“Ummm.” I thought a moment. “I know. How do you say ‘You are handsome’? Because you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”
He looked at me as if I was joking, then he said, “Yeah right.”
“No, I mean it. So, how do you say ‘You are handsome?’
“Tu eres hermoso.” He whispered seductively.
“Tu eres hermoso. Now, how do you say, ‘I think you are cute’?”
“Yo pienzo que eres muy guapo.”
“Yo pienzo que eres muy guapo. How do you say, ‘I like you’?”
“Te quiero mucho!” He whispered smiling at me.
“Te quiero mucho!” and I meant every syllable.
He smiled at me as I said, “I’d better write all of these down.” I reached into my armrest and pulled out a pen and my notepad and with his help, jotted down the phrases.
He then told me, “There is one you forgot.”
“Oh?” I whispered hoarsely.
“Si. Te amo; I love you.” I got so wet when he said that.
“Te amo.” I repeated.
“You are learning so fast!” He smiled sweetly.
“I have a good teacher.” I replied, smiling back at him. And then I said, “Te quiero mucho.”
He responded with “Te quiero mucho, mi nino.” He told me that ‘mi nino’ meant, my baby as in my little boy. I hadn’t been someone’s baby since – all right since the married man, but it sounded nice and felt so natural coming from Jorge.
I said “Te quiero mucho” again to Jorge, and he responded in kind. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Between his accent, his smoldering good looks, his smile, and his piercing brown eyes, I just couldn’t stand it. I had to kiss him. We leaned closer to each other and then it happened, the spontaneous connection. Our lips were the first to touch. Then our tongues began searching each other out in our mouths. It was pure bliss!!!
He would pull back and stare soulfully into my eyes and whisper “Te quiero mucho, mi nino!” I repeated the phrase.
Whatever he wanted! He suddenly maneuvered himself across me to the lever of my chair. He reclined me back and then lowered his small, but wiry body over mine. We continued to make out and talk and whisper Spanish phrases to one another, until I realized I had to go back to Teresa’s. We were leaving to return to Anson County that morning! I told Jorge I had to go. And I swear to God he looked into my eyes and with tears in his eyes whispered, “Don’t go.” IT BROKE MY HEART! I wanted nothing more than to stay with him. I’d rather stay and get to know this handsome stranger who called himself Jorge than face my family with their pressures and demands and bullshit. I told him I had to go, but I didn’t. Not quite yet. We kissed some more, ok lots more.
Several million kisses later, I glanced at my watch and was shocked to see that it was 5 a.m.!!!!! Omigod! I hadn’t meant to stay out that late. Being with Jorge just stopped time. I told him I really had to go. We kissed one more kiss and then he realized he had to get his coat, which was still inside CC!! We crossed the street and pulled on the door only to find it locked. Poor Jorge’s coat was locked inside, his friends had left him, and there wasn’t a soul in the parking lot. Our cars were the only ones left, my Corsica and his tan Hoop-D. I had to pee so we went into the dreaded dirty bookstore and into the video area. More memories, mostly Nick ones, but they didn’t bother me because I was with Jorge Cortez er Javier Muro!
We walked back out into the colder-than-a-witch’s titty air, and I stared at him shivering. Poor baby had no coat on, and he was freezing. So, I did something I would normally not do; I took off the ski jacket I was wearing and draped it around him, though he protested. When he saw I meant it, he smiled and thanked me.
“Gracias.”
We then hurried across the street to our cars. I took him to his, and he returned my coat and got in. He tried to crank his car but it wouldn’t start! He kept on trying but no deal. He looked so sad. For a split second I thought he’d planned it just so he could spend more time with me. How silly, but how romantic. I couldn’t just let him stand out there to freeze.
“I’ll take you home!”
“Gracias. Thank you.”
So, we climbed into my Corsica and took off. He lived in Durham, so it was on my way and we could be together longer. On the way, he snuggled up to me really close. I loved it, because for some reason it felt as if we were an old, in-love couple and that we had been together for years. It felt really nice. We once tried to kiss, but then he advised me to keep my eyes on the road since I was about to run off of it! So, we settled for snuggling. Anyway, we took the Durham Freeway and got off at the Alston Avenue exit. He directed me down this dark street with rows of houses, then suddenly he told me to pull over. It was time. He was HOT! I was HOT!
Let’s just say that what happened next was VERY private. 😂😘
Afterward, we continued on our way to his apartment, which was Juniper Street Apartments located on Juniper Street. We parked, smooched a little more, and then went up the metal stairs to his apartment. He had told me that he lived with his female friend Maria, and friends Hector, Rafael, and his two nephews. Damn! We were quiet as we walked into the kitchen and sat. We stared at each other for a full minute; we smiled, and then I suddenly asked for a picture of him. He thought a moment, then he found this picture of him taken at Christmas, perhaps the year before. This is the picture from above. I thanked him for the picture, telling him I’d have to send him a picture or 2 of me. So, we exchanged addresses, and I gave him my number since he had ran up a $1,300 phone bill calling Mexico! He had no phone, so he had to use a pay phone! All of this before cellphones!
He walked me back outside, and he promised to call me. We hugged and then I climbed down the stairs to my car, got in and pulled away. He stood at the railing staring down at me smiling… longingly. I missed him already!
By the time I got to Teresa’s, it was 7 a.m. and daybreak. We were supposed to leave at 8 a.m. for Anson County. She was already up, but still in bed watching TV. I apologized for not being back sooner, but she just gave me a knowing look.
Anyway, back home I was on such a high, because all I could think about Jorge.
When I returned to Atlanta, everyone I was around at that time knew I was in love. Everyone said how I was “beaming” and “glowing” like a Roman candle. And it was all true! LOLOL And later that week after meeting Jorge and right before New Year’s Eve, there was a message from Jorge on my answering machine (how archaic!!!) saying:
“This is George …I mean Jorge Cortez. I just called to see how you’ve been. And I think I love you. Or something like that! Bye!” It was so cute!
So, that was the beginning of the Jorge Cortez Movie!!!!
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That is it for now, my dear friends. Stay tuned for Part 2 of the story. Wishing you a very Merry Christmas, Season’s Greetings, Happy Holidays and whatever you do or don’t celebrate. Be safe and enjoy, and above all, be mentally well!
DEREK’S DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical professional, neither am I giving any medical or legal advice. If you are seeking help from a doctor or an attorney, please consult said professionals. These are my personal thoughts and feelings on the subjects discussed, and my blog is my own personal experiences and journey with mental imbalance. Thanking you in advance!
AFFILIATE DISCLAIMER: There are products on this page. By clicking on the links, you will be redirected to that page at no cost to you. However, I will receive compensation if you purchase something (which I hope you do 😊).
