Long time lurker here, but I so relate to the topic!
I live in a small town area with a stodgy bent. So I was determined to make the most of an outing to the city for a concert with my best friend who knows I'm bi and is adventurous herself.
Pre-concert it was dead in the gayborhood. Post concert it was happening but it was already late. The gay bars were gay guys. We managed to find the only after hours bar, a place that had a runway for drag shows, but not one that night. I was hopeful.
Who ends up dancing with me on the runway dance floor? A super hot Venezuelan guy half my age (I'm too old to be in the bar but it is working for me somehow that night.). I'm flattered that this guy, so my type, is interested in dancing with me, but I'm disappointed. I HAD A MISSION TO KISS A WOMAN! Sigh.
But as I did a turn on the dance floor a tiny jockey-sized woman cut in and started dancing with me.
She was clearly a lesbian and for being such a small lady, she had huge bravado. Like a Don Juan character. She was fashionably masculine, but super petite-a striking combo with a tailored jacket and button down and partly shaved hair. I was so into it and not believing my luck!
Then her hulking girlfriend appeared and just gave her a look like, "Must you?" The woman was a strong Casanova type so the girlfriend had to be accustomed to it. And she went back to dancing with the girlfriend and I went back to dancing with the boy, who a credit to him and his generation's openness with sexuality was unphased by the interlude. And the jockey girl gave me some kissy lips when I wistfully looked back at her.
But that was it. No kiss.