Date: Tue, 15 Jun 2004 00:07:52 -0400
From: Bill McBride <billytk69@hotmail.com>
Subject: Reclaiming Austin Chapter 1 rewrite

Hey Guys,

I rewrote chapter one a few months ago when I was bored and didn't want to
write anything totally new.  There is new stuff added, but it follows the
same basic story line.  This first chapter hasd never been edited before.

If you're too young BLAH BLAH BLAH, If homosexuality offends you BLAH BLAH
BLAH, And if the Straight guys having sex with gay men confuses you BLAH,
BLAH, BLAH.  Read on.  It's time to change your way of thinking-(grin)

Seriously, I'd love to thank Scott my editor and friend for all his hard
work.  He makes me look good and I get all the great letters. (I do pass
some on to him though) I also want to thank all the people who have written
me so far.  I really LOVE the letters.  If you want to write me you can
reach me at Billytk69@hotmail.com

Enjoy.

Reclaiming Austin Chapter 1

My circle of friends during the early 1990s consisted of mostly straight
people who surfed, skated and sometimes partied heavily. Some of the guys
played various sci-fi games like Magic and D&D. On weekends, we would light
small bonfires and drink, while others -- including myself -- played
guitars.

At the center of this group was an alpha male named Phil. He is hard to
explain; part daredevil, part perfectionist, part philosopher. Phil was
barely 5-foot-9. But what gave him that edge was his brain. Phil was easily
the smartest guy I knew, and his insight into other people was amazing. To
be his friend was truly an honor.

What Phil spoke was law, and it was his enlightened views on homosexuals
(and other minorities) that allowed me to come out so early. I had met Phil
and his best friend, Dan, through an old high school friend who'd thought
we'd get along.

Phil had this way of embarrassing guys who spouted the normal homophobic
shit by turning their fears and comments against them.

For example, when I was first getting to know these guys, I had arranged to
meet them at this club in Orlando frequented by a mixed crowd. Andrew, one
of the guys going with Phil, hadn't been told there would be "fags"
there. When he found out, he freaked. Phil simply started laughing and
pointed out that Andrew was so desperate to loose his virginity that he
scared off even the skankiest drunk girls, that "fags" had way too much
taste to ever get so desperate that they would ever hit on his scrawny
ass. Andrew ended up storming off outside the club.

Several other guys I didn't expect to show up made the journey, and at
least two of the four had genuinely good times. One guy in particular,
Dennis, while never coming over to the gay side of the fence, has since
frequently gone to gay clubs with me, claiming he likes them better because
no one wants to start fights with him. Dennis is a big guy, built more like
the hulk than any of us, and loves to dance. He said that in most straight
clubs, guys tended to see him as a threat and challenged him to fights. I
have noticed that even in normal settings, he seems to evoke a lot of high
testosterone responses. He's a really nice guy though, and when another guy
hits on him, he takes it as a compliment and often buys the guy a drink.

This was 1996, and I was 26. It was late winter in central Florida, which
meant erratic weather. It could be 40 degrees one day and 90 the next, and
one could never tell when a storm was going to pop up. This night was a
crisp 50 degrees, and the night sky was clear and a brilliant deep blue
with almost a full moon. We were gathering for Dan's graduation party from
college. I had gotten to Phil's house early to help them set up. When I
walked in, I sat down on his couch and found myself sitting directly across
from this guy who made my stomach tie up in knots.

I didn't recognize him. I'd guess he was in his early 20s, 6-2 and had
shoulders built by Thor. He oozed Abercrombie looks, with blue eyes that
seemed to freeze time. And, oh my god, he had that perfect roman nose with
these gorgeous full lips that occasionally disappeared in a cavern of
dimples. He wore a tight, brick-colored muscle shirt with a plaid
button-down over it. I was dumbstruck not only by this guy's looks, but
also by my sudden Sherlock Holmes ability to notice every minute detail.


Despite the quick detective-like skills I had suddenly been bestowed, I was
nearly a dolt in my failure to think of anything to say to introduce
myself. The guy gave me a dismissive half-smile and turned to his friends.
When Phil's girlfriend, Korma, came through the room, she gave me a big
warm welcome and introduced me to the other guys. There was Nathan, Joe and
Austin. Austin was the stud I'd been perving over. I stepped over to them
to offer my hand, and they each gave me a casual shake and nod of the
head. By the time I got to Austin, my palms were clammy and I was sweating.
They seemed much more interested in whatever they were discussing, so I
just followed Korma out to work on the food tables. A little while later, I
saw Austin talking to Phil, they shook hands as Austin and his buds made
for the door.

	"Damn" I said quietly,
	"He can't leave now!"

Even if he hadn't been that friendly, he was cute enough that I'd have
forgiven damn near anything but bodily harm. Korma and one of the other
girls gave me the skinny on the new guys. Austin was an old pal of Phil's
who'd been away at college for the past three years on a baseball
scholarship. He only popped in every so often, as he went to the University
of Florida in Gainesville and had joined a frat two years ago.

When the actual party started later, I endeared myself to Dan by making
sure he always had a bottle of cold beer at his ready. I'd spent three
years in a fraternity, so alcohol etiquette was second nature to me. For
personal reasons, I had decided to cut my alcohol consumption down
dramatically and was limiting myself to a few Southern Comfort and Cokes.

The party got busy real fast. All the guys I knew were there, as were quite
a few that I either hadn't met or had never seen. As I wasn't drinking
much, I played host by making sure everyone had a drink.

About 9:30, I saw Austin again. He'd changed into a forest green Polo and
some ripped jeans and returned without his friends.

I walked up to him and put my hand on his shoulder as I swung around to ask
him if he wanted a drink. As soon as he saw that it was me who was touching
him, he freaked out. He shrugged my hands off his shoulders and jumped as
he clamored,

	"Hey, hey, hey. I ain't that way dude."

He shook my hands off and stepped away with his hands up in the "stop"
position. I suppose I should have been angry or even embarrassed. Maybe
even annoyed. According to those who saw what had happened, I had the look
of a feral animal when he did that. I could feel the evil smirk crossing my
face.

Steven, this fairly loud redneck type whom I actually got along with,
started laughing and said,

	"ooohhhhh shit, Austin. You've done it now! You'd better run home
and lock all your doors"

Something happened to me that night. I suppose it was the smell of
fear. Whatever it was, I became downright predatory. I felt like a leopard
watching a rabbit run. And I wasn't the only one who'd noticed it. Phil and
Steve became a strange heterosexual chorus urging the token gay boy to
pounce on their straight friend.

Don't ask me to explain any of it, I'm as confused today as I was then. At
that moment, though, my mission was clear. I needed to make that poor boy
squirm.

The outburst had attracted a fair amount of attention, and Jessica came
over to express her sympathy to me for Austin's outburst. I shook her hands
off me with all the drama and the same gestures that Austin had made,

	"Hey, hey, hey, girl! You know Homey don't play that game!"

As opposed to Austin's outburst, which had caused a great deal of anxiety
and silence, mine brought the house down. Everyone busted out laughing
except Austin and the people who'd come into the room to see what was going
on.

Austin hung his head down and blushed. He walked over toward me and mumbled
an apology.

	"Sorry dude, I--I."  he shook his head.
	"I'm sorry. My bad, OK."

I smiled at him and held up the empty beer bottles I'd been gathering,

	"It's OK dude. I was just gonna ask if you wanted a beer?"

Meekly, Austin handed me his empty.

	"Killian's," He said bashfully.

After a few beers, Austin picked up on the term Phil, Steve and Dan were
using for me and began calling me "Beer Wench." I really didn't mind. I
wasn't drinking beer, so I might as well have fun serving it.

 Besides, it gave me the perfect opportunity to interact with Austin. I
took every opportunity I could to place my hands on his arms or across his
shoulders or any available spot as I talked to him or asked him what he
wanted to drink.

Austin began getting drunk a little too quickly, so I weaned him off a
little and paced him. After I had handed him a full one later in the
evening, he fixed his glazed eyes on me and slurred out,
	"I know whyyy yorr gedding mah beeerz frrr me. Yerr tryin ta geht
mee drunk so youu chan take advan'age of meh."

I smiled innocently at him and responded,
	"Don't be silly Austin. I'm not getting you drunk to advantage of
you. I'm getting you drunk so you'll,"

I tapped his chest with the neck of an empty beer bottle for emphasis,
	"take advantage of me!"

It took him a minute to processes the whole thing. But when he did his face
erupted in dimples as he grinned and said,

	"Weylll. thaz awright I guezz."

With that, he stepped up to me and put his arm around my shoulder.

I was so excited I was weak-kneed, but I draped my arm around his waist in
response and beamed at the room. With that, we actually started to talk.
Well, I talked and he slurred, but the effect was fine with me.

Mostly, he just apologized and told me over and over how he thought I was
cool even though I was gay.

At some point, Steve started bellyaching that his "beer wench" was failing
his duties. I turned slowly toward him for dramatic effect and informed him
that,

"Beer wench is on break".

Phil was grinning and giving me a big thumb's up. A while later, Austin
said he had to take a piss, and I decided to get a new round of drinks for
the couch crew.

In the kitchen, I ran into Dan, Korma and an older guy named Andy.

	"Hey Alex, you wanna have some Goldschlager?"  Dan asked as he
grimaced after his shot.

	"I don't know, Dan. Every time I have Goldschlager, I end up having
these long involved stories," I said as I approached, knowing that despite
my protest, having a shot was a foregone conclusion.

	"Seems to me that might not be a bad thing tonight," Korma said
with a knowing smile.

	"Geez, Alex. Even I think Austin's cute, dipstick! Take a drink and
go for it!"  Andy taunted me.

Korma handed me a very full double shot glass and poured three more for the
rest of them.

	"To Dan!"  Andy said.

	"Congratulations, Dan!"  I offered.

	"To your future, Danny!"  Korma said sweetly

	"Go get your fucking rocks off Alex!"  Dan laughed as we all raised
our glasses and blushed furiously. OK, maybe I was the only one who blushed
as we drank.

A moment later and as I put my glass down I exclaimed,
	"I have no idea what you're talking about, Dan. It's not like you
guys ever invite any other fags but me."

	"Whatever, dude. You just left him alone in a room with at least 10
single girls drunk off his ass," Dan added.

I did another shot quickly, shivered, and then turned to get Austin a big
glass of water. Suddenly, I heard a big commotion and a lot of
laughing. Steve and Phil came into the kitchen, grabbed me by the shoulders
and ushered me towards the bathroom. When we got there, poor Austin stood
there red-faced and embarrassed.

I should explain that this was an old house, and the bathroom door had an
unreliable lock on it. New people always got locked in. On the door was a
poster board and marker sign that said "DON'T LOCK THE DOOR-IT WON'T OPEN"
And in little letters underneath it stated, "First person to get locked in
wins the door prize."

As this guy Jesse was pointing this out, he said,
	"Now what will we give you as a door prize???"

A second later, I was unceremoniously flung at Austin.

	"Now why don't you two go back in there and lock the door again?"
Steve howled before bellowing with laughter.

Austin got a big grin when I landed in his god-like chest. The differences
in our size were almost laughable, not so much in height as in weight. I
was 5-6 to his 6-2. But I was 135 lbs to his 215. His chest was enormous
next to mine.

Austin wrapped his arms around my shoulder again and said,

	"Cumm'n, ah need whudder," he slurred.

I helped guide "my prize" to the kitchen. Catcalls and jeers sounded in our
wake. I just didn't get these guys. Not being afraid or bothered by a gay
man was one thing, especially for guys this young. But to Actively, as a
damned group, try and set one of their friends up with the gay friend
... This was too weird for even me to understand.

So I stood in the kitchen with Austin's big arm around my shoulder, moving
me this way and that like his personal doll as he slurred when he tried to
talk. He drank two glasses of water when I decided it was time for me to
take a piss. When I approached the head, Jennifer and her boyfriend, Glen,
were waiting for me. They immediately pounced like hungry moray eels,
preaching to me how it was wrong for me to try and convert Austin.

I believe they used the term "indoctrinate" several times. I tried to
defend myself, but they were a bit too Baptist for my tastes. That is,
reason and logic were lost on blind faith and pointless anger. I'd learned
long ago not to argue with religious types, especially not at parties. I
was going to point out that it was Austin who kept putting his arms around
me, and he was the one wearing the skin-tight 501 jeans with the multiple
rips in the ass and pocket areas.  Luckily, I was saved when several cries
for me went out from the kitchen.

When I got there, I found Austin bent over a garbage can hurling his lungs
out.

Phil looked up to me and said,
	"He's your boyfriend, you take care of him."

Having been pledge master in a frat for two years, I was an expert on
caring for drunks. I put my hand on his shirt and rubbed his back and said
soothing words as most of the crowd filed out. Finally, when he stopped and
stood upright again, I saw that he had puked all over the front of his
shirt, pants and shoes.

	"Ohhhh, dude. We're gonna have to get you to the bathroom and out
of those."

	"Don' lock uzz in, dey'll mahk shit up bout uzz," he slurred slowly
as he leaned against me.

	"Trust me honey, tonight you're mostly safe from me and the rumor
mills."

With that I called for Phil, Korma, and Cynthia as I tried to lead Vomit
Boy to the bathroom.

	"Phil, can he use your spare room tonight? He can't go anywhere
like this."

	"Yeah, I even put a plastic sheet down just for these situations,
Alex."

I said,
	"Cool," And then turned to Cynthia.
	"Sweety, I'm gonna get his clothes to you, will you please wash
them, shoes too?"

	"Surely sugar, he gonna be alraht?"  Cynthia drawled in her lovely
South Carolina accent.

Austin was a big guy. I was worried about his reaction if he felt I was
trying to start something with him. Fortunately, it was quite the
opposite. I got his shirt and shoes off OK, but when I started on his pants
he kept grabbing my hand and trying to pull them down to his sticky and wet
crotch. As exciting as this should have been; his being covered in puke and
barely standing took away a certain amount of the charm. I may be a godless
pervert, but even I had my standards.

I stood him up from the counter and stood back, he was now in nothing but
underwear, which were clean.

	"OK, Austin. We're going to take a shower. You ready for that?"

I got a slurred response about being at the party.

	"Yeah, but you wanna get your shower early before everyone else
uses up the hot water don't you?"  I asked.

God had in his infinite wisdom gifted me with what I call "drunken logic,"
which was an invaluable skill in fraternities and parties such as this. It
really wasn't the gift I would have chosen on most days. Photographic
memory and great physical prowess seemed to be better gifts. But on this
night, I was so very glad I could communicate clearly with this guy.

I made him lean against the wall as I slid my hands over his body and down
his sides. If it hadn't been for the effects of the booze, this homage to
the Greek gods might very well have caused me to regress from my
duties. There is nothing quite so sad as a perfect male lacking any control
of either mind or body.

I helped him get out of his underwear, then handed the package of his
soiled clothing out to Cynthia.

Meanwhile, I ran some warm water in the shower and helped Austin into the
stream. I was having a real hard time trying to get him to stand up, so I
finally made him sit on the floor as I washed him off of all the
particulate matter. His skin was soooo soft, and his muscles were sooooo
large and round. This straight boy shaved his chest, and well, since I was
being soooo nice, I thought it would be ok to take a few small liberties,
thus I reached down and washed his parts so adversely affected by the beer,
very, very, carefully.

I knew he was too drunk for any true response, but I vowed that I would get
another chance one day.

The problem I now had was that after getting him clean, how the fuck was I
going to get him to stand up? He couldn't, and he'd be happy falling asleep
where he was. And there was no way I could lift him, especially while he
was all wet. So what I did was drain the tub, and then I swung my legs over
and toweled him off sitting down. Then I wrapped the towel around his chest
and squatted to get a good grip.

Then I lifted him up (he helped a little). The walk to the spare bedroom
was easy as there was an adjoining door in the bathroom. Phil had made the
bed and placed an obligatory waist bucket next to the bed.

And after I laid my beauty down and removed the towel, I took a few moments
to take in his too perfect body. I looked over every inch from that
god-like chest to the perky little nipples, down to that glorious treasure
trail. His six packs showed even in drunken sleep. His tan line was
... magnificent. I ran a quick hand from his chest to his soft muscular
thigh, sighed then pulled the blanket up to cover him.

Phil and Steve started to laugh as I entered the living room.

	"Man, that is some technique, Alex! Have you ever scored with that
one?"  Steve bellowed.

The room laughed and then Phil added,
	"Next time why don't you just use your handcuffs and restraints. I
know YOU have some of those!"

I fixed him with a worried look and said,
	"First of all, Phil, thank you soooo much for all your damned help
moving the quarterback. How'd ya know I wasn't doing ungodly things to that
boy?"

Quite a few people looked over to the indignant Glen and Jennifer.

	"Second of all, you made me promise not to use the handcuffs or leg
irons with anybody but you!"

Even Phil laughed at that. One thing I really liked about Phil was that he
could take as good as he could dish, and he loved good banter. Most of us
did, I guess.

Aside from checking on Austin a few more times, the rest of the party was
uneventful. Except for Glen and Jennifer who tried to corner me again and
preach some more of their "my god is holier than yours" stuff. Before she'd
even gotten a sentence out, I asked Glen what the Bible thought of sex out
of wedlock. When he hesitated, I asked what the Baptist church thought of
drinking beer (they both had brews in hand). When I asked how many partners
each of them, had they both got tight-jawed and glared.

Then I said,
	"Look, before you go preaching to me about my potential sins, why
don't you clean house of all your committed ones, first!"

Several people, including Cynthia and Steve, had heard that and were
laughing so hard they couldn't even stand. Phil got his "announcer" voice
on and said,

	"In this corner, Alexander Johnson, 5-7 and black belt in verbal
banter! His opponents are, at 6-1, Glen Rosen, and at 5-8, Jennifer
McGrath, evangelical brown belts. First point goes to Alexander with a full
Ipon."

I went home at around 5:45 a.m., and slept till about 3 p.m. About 5:30, I
got a phone call from someone whose voice I didn't recognize at first.

	"Hi. Alex? This is Austin," He said.

Although I was so excited I almost fell over, I managed a cool,
	"Hey, how're ya feeling today?"

	"Physically I'm fine, I guess. I don't really get
hangovers. Anyways, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?"

I stuttered a short,
	"Ummm, well sure, I--I--I guess."

The confusion in my voice was so thick even the straight boy could hear it.

	"Well, I wanted to thank you. For ... you know."  His avoidance of
the words was too damn cute for a guy his size.

	"Ohhh sure Austin, no problem."

I almost added that he didn't have to thank me. Then I quickly willed my
mouth to shut the fuck up.

Austin pressed on,

	"Well ummm, cool then, how about meeting me at Chili's in an
hour. Is that cool?"

I confirmed and said goodbye. Then I did a little happy dance around my
living room and thanked god a half-million times. Immediately after, I
leapt on my phone and called my friend Michael and told him the whole story
up to that point. He cursed me and said I was going to gay hell for picking
up a straight boy and not sharing. I pointed out that the previous straight
guys I'd met weren't really straight, and besides, an awful lot of them
weren't that cute so nothing more then basic coming-out strategies ever
happened. Then I retold him every last detail about Austin for sheer spite.

We chatted for a while, mostly it was me all excited and pacing across the
ceiling, and him giving me shit about it. Michael was my best friend, but
few people could see that off-hand because all we did was bitch and fight
with each other when we had any kind of audience. But it was all in play,
and we both knew it.

I arrived at Chili's about 10 minutes early. My nerves were at their
limits, and I couldn't pace around my living room anymore. I picked a
semi-isolated booth away from the main fracas. I ordered a margarita for
myself, and Killian's for Austin.

My heart was flip-flopping, and I started doing the obligatory; "What if he
doesn't show," routine in my head while I waited. But several minutes
before 6:30, he walked in. He was even more stunning in daylight. His blue
eyes were absolutely dazzling.

He wore a green and copper-striped polo and an olive baseball cap worn
backwards. His jeans were baggy, but the overall package was one of
Bacchanalian lust personified.

When Austin saw me and met my eyes, his face exploded in dimples, and he
started to blush. The wax on my wings was melting fast, and the land was
too far below me.

	"Allleeexxxx," Austin said in a take off of Rob Schneider's
character "Copy Boy" from Saturday Night Live. I grinned and added,

	"The Austin-man-a-roni."

He kept up that deadly smile as he sat down. Then he saw the beers -- it
was two-for-one -- and started laughing out loud,

	"Nooooo, not again. Fuck'n beer wench, you just wanna get me in bed
again."

At which point, the waitress who'd been following him over broke into a
grin.

	"You'll have to teach me your secrets," She said to me playfully
with a wink as she put my margarita down. Austin went pale for a moment
when he realized he'd been heard. He started to stammer something out about
too much beer, and me serving everyone, but she continued to grin at him
and keep him off balance.

Austin finally said,
	"After I finish these, please just get me a sweet tea."

He had the faintest trace of a North Florida accent.

She jotted it down and took an order for appetizers before leaving.

Austin looked at me with this funny smile, blushed a little then hung his
head down and shook it slowly from side to side as he took a big breath of
air and let it out slowly.

	"I can't decide if I should thank you or blame you for last night,
dude," He said as he looked up and cocked his head slightly to the side.

He still smiled, but I could see his deep blue eyes searching mine, and it
literally made me forget to breath.

	"I can't figure out why you're being so cool to me after I was such
an ass dork to you last night, either."

I smiled and took a drink to clear my head,

	"Well, you redeemed yourself when you apologized last night. And
besides, now I get to tell everyone that I got a college baseball player
into the bathtub and the bedroom."

I winked at him to ease his mind.

	"Yeahhh, I can't wait to hear how good I was next time I hit town."

We both laughed at this and then he added,

	"And please be kind. I know I'm not exactly a porn star down
there. But remember, I was drunk."

I broke into a wide grin,

	"Sure, whaddaya want, 9 or 10 inches?"

He started to laugh and this got me going as well.

	"Fuuuuck that! I want 12 and a half swinging between my knees,
bitch!"

	"Funny, So do I ... " I said as I arched my eyebrows.

The more we bantered, the harder we laughed. After a while the wait staff
started watching us and our server said she was going to have to cut us off
on drinks. Rather then pissing us off, it only made us laugh harder as we
weren't even buzzed and had only just started drinking.

When the food arrived we had gotten over the giggle fits.

	"So dude, how long you been part of Phil's anti-drugs, liberal
crusade to rid the world of mean people?"  I laughed at his one=line
summation of Phil's loyal posse.

	"Well, I like the guys, and I hang around a lot. But I don't quite
fit the wholesome image he fosters, and besides, I can't surf. But, I guess
I've been hanging around about two years or so."

	"I can teach you to surf," Austin added.

	"Austin, don't take this the wrong way, but if we were both wet
again and you were half-naked, balancing on a board over sharks would be
soooo far from what I would be thinking about."

Austin blushed deeply and shock his head side to side,

	"Wrong, dude. You are fucking wrong!"  We both grinned when Austin
cocked his to one side,

	"So what're you saying, are gay and wholesome mutually exclusive or
something?"

	"Well, I think that depends on who you ask?"  I said.
	"Glen and Jen Certainly think so."

	"Skrew those two, I'm asking you," he said catching my gaze with
his deadly blue eyes.

	"Sure, you can be gay and straight-laced, I suppose," I shrugged.

	"But you aren't?"  Austin arched an eye inquisitively.

	"Well, I have been recently, but my past is somewhat sordid," I
smiled elusively.

Austin just smiled and nodded,

	"So, what's your preferred poison, then?"

I smiled and searched for a neat analogy to keep the game going, but
finally just said,

	"I guess I never went any further then pot. And even that has been
extremely rare as of late. I used to drink like a leprechaun in my frat but
haven't even done that much lately. Do you really wanna know the rest of my
`debauched' details?"

Something was going on in Austin's mind, but I couldn't figure out what it
was.

The rest of the meal was insightful, and we both found out we had similar
music tastes, including 70s and even some 60s stuff.

But strangely, we both loved dance music. At that moment, Stereo MC was
getting us "connected."

At the end of the meal, Austin handed the waitress his credit card and told
me to put my wallet away. I loved the casual assumption of power he took. I
also liked the fact that he was keeping true to his word and taking me out
to dinner. Before we left, Austin handed me a card with his phone number
from school and his e-mail address.

	"I don't get back here all that often during classes, but go ahead
and write me. To be honest, you're about the only guy out of that group I
think I'd choose to party with. Some of those guys really need to learn how
to loosen up and relax. So Anyways, next time I hit town, why don't we
party a little?"

Then he thought for a second, and as I was about to ask him just what he
meant by "party," he broke into a big grin.

	"I meant with my clothes on, pervert!"

We both laughed at this. As he walked me to my Jeep, I sidestepped his hand
that he'd extended and wrapped my arms around him in a big hug.

He hugged me back, although it was a bit tentative at first.

	"I just washed your vomit-stained body in a tub for Christ sake, I
deserve a hug!"  I said to his ear.

He laughed and hugged me tight for a second.

I got in my car and pulled over to where he'd parked, rolled my window down
and said.

	"Way I see it is, if I've seen you naked, I can damn sure hug you."

He laughed and waved at me as he slid behind his gray Dodge Dart. The
muscle car fit him like that pair of jeans he was wearing.

I smiled as I drove off, feeling the card he'd given me with his e-mail
address and phone number, just to make sure I still had it.

I checked every few minutes to make sure it was still there on my way
home. And just like every other event in my life, there was only one way to
handle it.

	"Hello, Michael? Oh my god! You are sooooo not going to believe
what happened at dinner? Are you sitting down? Guess what? He wants to
party with me bitch!"