Night Out

When Jack walked into the men's room, the black man who had been sitting at the end of the bar had the woman up against the sink, next to the stall, kind of jammed in there in the corner. The woman, whom Jack was assuming was a prostitute, had her back to the black guy, who appeared to be taking her from behind in the cramped men's room. Their eyes met for about a second, and Jack mumbled "Excuse me" and kind of laughed a little. The black guy laughed too. There was an understanding between the two of them. The black guy was screwing the hooker in the tiny men's room because that's the only place he could do it right now. And the hooker, well, she didn't really seem to care at all. She was getting paid, and she couldn't really see Jack from where she was, up against the sink, crammed between the toilet stall and the wall. So Jack backed out of there quickly (there was really no room for anyone else in the bathroom anyway) and returned to his stool at the bar, laughing to himself.

He didn't tell anyone what he had just seen. He didn't tell the bartender, or anyone else who happened to be sitting at the bar drinking. It was really nobody's business, Jack thought. It could just turn into something real messy and ugly, and Jack was tired and just wanted to drink his beer and relax. He would wait a few minutes and then go back to the men's room once the festivities had drawn to a close. After a couple of minutes, the black man returned to the bar, glanced over at Jack and smiled, laughing a little. Jack had to laugh as well. The black man could tell that Jack hadn't said anything to anyone about the little rendezvous in the men's room, so he just finished up his drink, put his coat on and left. Left the hooker at the bar and headed home, another night out on the town drawn to a close.