Gaydar Is Always Accurate

“Get a little closer,” he said. “Smell it.” I took a deep whiff. Sammy’s crotch exuded a dank, sweaty, undoubtedly masculine aroma that made my cock pulse and leak out juice in my underwear. “Smell good?”
*****
It was one of the head cooks who started calling him Sweet Sammy, just cause of his smile and how soft-spoken and kind he was.
“He’s the type,” Adrian said. We were watching Sammy through the little window in the door that led to the kitchen. “Please,” he continued, like I’d disagreed with him. “Get a couple beers in him, get him away from her,” he said, motioning to Sammy’s girlfriend who was in the back too, having just run Sammy the cigarettes he’d left at home. “He would so get down with a dude. Lay back, let you suck his dick. Can you imagine him saying no, if you asked?” I let Adrian get close to my ear. “It’s probably a real fatty, too. Bet he’d moan like crazy when you licked his balls. And he’d really squeal when you tongued down to his–“
“Boys.” Monica, our manager, had poked her head around the wall of the server’s station. “Wanna get to those four tops sometime tonight?” She tapped her manicured fingernails on the pasteboard wall, gave us an ironic smile. “I mean, it’s not like dinner rush or anything.” I started filling water glasses.
I watched Sammy’s girlfriend leave out the back door. Adrian took the glasses I’d filled and put them on a tray. “Trust me, I’ve seduced so many straight guys. It’s those nice ones, those sweet ones, they love blowjobs. It’s like manna from heaven. But you better get to it before I do…”
“Fuck off, Adrian,” I said, rolling my eyes. I took the tray from his hand and went off to take...