Oh, lube. The key info there is water vs silicone . From a medical standpoint I'd recommend silicone: plus sides are it's longer lasting (aptly named), stays slick, gentle on skin, can be used in water. Downsides are it's a pain to wash out and it can't be used with silicone toys.
Water based is alright for general use, fine vaginally, fine with toys, less ideal for anal. Absorbs into the skin, causes swelling, can result in increased micro tears.
You're a shit, did you know? [ of course you did. which doesn't make him any less ready to at least marginally profit off the near inevitable drawing out of his own misery ] See you there.
[It's a gay bar in the new quarter, oddly (or perhaps not, given how flexible the city's intake seem to be) one of the only establishments of its kind. A rainbow flag flies over the door and the obligatory Minogue classic filters out into the street. The drag queen at the door has six inch stilettos and a full beard. She raises her eyebrows in bored recognition at John's name and nods him through with a sigh of Grecian 2000, darling. Your temples will thank me.
Freddie's at the bar, kneeling up on a stool and leaning halfway onto it, laughing with a shot glass caught between his teeth. He spots John the way you'd spot a black sheep in an ivory herd, and swallows the drink with a backward tilt of his head.]
[ spend enough time living in central London and being tiredly advised by a drag queen to do something about your hair stops being anything you're going to take to heart. he passes her with a nod and a smile, makes a mental note, makes another mental note to ignore his mental note, and carries on inside.
he's out of his depth. of course he is. his wardrobe varies from oatmeal jumper to black and white thick horizontal striped shirt and right back around to the coveted shirt/cardigan combo. recently, downtime has consisted of crossword puzzles and drinking whisky alone at his kitchen table. he absolutely doesn't have a place here.
but if there's one thing John's particularly good at, loves, it's being just the right amount of out of his depth. out of place - most importantly, out of routine. here, it pulls him up a little taller. his back's straighter, chest wider, chin held and proud: confidence goes reflected, as it often does, in old habits, the dull echos of a soldier. he's still John Watson as he makes his way across what's left of the distance towards Freddie, still dad shirt and jacket and jeans, but he's easier. has a sense of some tightness come loose and starting to re-coil in a more comfortable shape.
any earlier frustrations are forgotten. but it's the principle, isn't it, and it's that principle which John holds onto as he comes to a halt at the bar, one eyebrow already raised in reprimand - the whole thing negated by the crook of a smile at the corner of his mouth. ]
[The cardigan's the perfect touch. Most people in here are just the right side of trashed to take him for the oldest hipster in the world - that's the ones who notice him at all. It's impressive, the internal filter some people operate: it's as if anyone over thirty doesn't exist. Freddie only pretends to function the same way, though the grin he gives John as he joins him could completely fuck up his reputation.]
Don't worry, I saved some for you.
[Three glasses clink between the splay of his fingers, ever so carefully held in balance through the upheaval as Freddie twists off his knees to sit somewhat less precariously on the edge of the stool. It's clear why he's being plied with drinks just to show up here, and it's not because he fits, either, because people who fit just blend into the crowd and Freddie's entire existence is an abrupt refusal to blend.
He's bait. He's the bright light luring little minnows into the mouth of the big fish. And John's probably not what the club owners had in mind by way of minnows, but here he is.
Freddie raises his eyebrows expectantly.]
Though, I wasn't sure you'd actually show up. [But it's a point in his favour that he did: a shiny new badge of merit to add to all the others won in service. One more thing Freddie, in his way, likes.]
You put the words "free" and "drinks" next to each other. I'm a cheap date. [ if it's got him to meet and greets, it'll get him down here. that's not the all of it, of course, but it's the first part of a job well done, and maybe John should be paying attention to those warning signs, alcohol and you're there, John, but you're 25 anymore. maybe. but that wasn't the all of it. bigger was the lure of the new, of the somewhere else to be. spontaneity doesn't crop up as often as he's used to it and there are worse people to step into unfamiliar territory on the summons of than Freddie Baxter.
considerably worse people. John nods his head with raised brow in Freddie's direction in recognition of the neat balancing act just performed (well done, bravo) and then reaches out to pluck up one of those carefully delivered shots. it's necked back immediately, glass abandoned to the bar - he takes a pew himself, perched in a way that's infinitely more pub than club, but what can you do. ] It was this or a crossword, and seven across is giving me grief.
[ true or not, it's play. he was happy to get the invite. for better or for worse, Freddie's company sits in a sparely populated space: he wouldn't have come over here at just anyone's offer. ]
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Water based is alright for general use, fine vaginally, fine with toys, less ideal for anal. Absorbs into the skin, causes swelling, can result in increased micro tears.
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Out of those two. Which one's better for groups?
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They don't actually give us Best Lube 101 in med school.
[ professional detachment professional detachment professional detachment ]
Again, I'd recommend silicone.
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Do you think a gallon's enough for say... a hundredish, for an evening?
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Couldn't say. You'd have to check with our sexual health team.
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I don't know, might take two gallons. What do you think?
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See, now I'm rethinking water based.
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When did you become an official orgyniser?
1/3
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Freddie's at the bar, kneeling up on a stool and leaning halfway onto it, laughing with a shot glass caught between his teeth. He spots John the way you'd spot a black sheep in an ivory herd, and swallows the drink with a backward tilt of his head.]
John! Come over, I've been lining them up.
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he's out of his depth. of course he is. his wardrobe varies from oatmeal jumper to black and white thick horizontal striped shirt and right back around to the coveted shirt/cardigan combo. recently, downtime has consisted of crossword puzzles and drinking whisky alone at his kitchen table. he absolutely doesn't have a place here.
but if there's one thing John's particularly good at, loves, it's being just the right amount of out of his depth. out of place - most importantly, out of routine. here, it pulls him up a little taller. his back's straighter, chest wider, chin held and proud: confidence goes reflected, as it often does, in old habits, the dull echos of a soldier. he's still John Watson as he makes his way across what's left of the distance towards Freddie, still dad shirt and jacket and jeans, but he's easier. has a sense of some tightness come loose and starting to re-coil in a more comfortable shape.
any earlier frustrations are forgotten. but it's the principle, isn't it, and it's that principle which John holds onto as he comes to a halt at the bar, one eyebrow already raised in reprimand - the whole thing negated by the crook of a smile at the corner of his mouth. ]
Yeah? Finished them all yet?
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Don't worry, I saved some for you.
[Three glasses clink between the splay of his fingers, ever so carefully held in balance through the upheaval as Freddie twists off his knees to sit somewhat less precariously on the edge of the stool. It's clear why he's being plied with drinks just to show up here, and it's not because he fits, either, because people who fit just blend into the crowd and Freddie's entire existence is an abrupt refusal to blend.
He's bait. He's the bright light luring little minnows into the mouth of the big fish. And John's probably not what the club owners had in mind by way of minnows, but here he is.
Freddie raises his eyebrows expectantly.]
Though, I wasn't sure you'd actually show up. [But it's a point in his favour that he did: a shiny new badge of merit to add to all the others won in service. One more thing Freddie, in his way, likes.]
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considerably worse people. John nods his head with raised brow in Freddie's direction in recognition of the neat balancing act just performed (well done, bravo) and then reaches out to pluck up one of those carefully delivered shots. it's necked back immediately, glass abandoned to the bar - he takes a pew himself, perched in a way that's infinitely more pub than club, but what can you do. ] It was this or a crossword, and seven across is giving me grief.
[ true or not, it's play. he was happy to get the invite. for better or for worse, Freddie's company sits in a sparely populated space: he wouldn't have come over here at just anyone's offer. ]
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