God, I can't believe my eyes.
I quickly slip on my sunglasses, both shielding my eyes from the sun and disguising the direction of my gaze.
Yes, it's Adonis himself, leaning sultrily against the guardrail outside his third-floor apartment, nude but for a tight-fitting pair of boxer-briefs. Calvin Kleins, I'll bet. The white material is striking, because of its sharp contrast against his sculpted, bronze flesh, and because it does nothing to conceal his obvious . . . endowments.
Seeming to have nothing better to do but play Greek God and be pretty, he leans over even further, his muscular arms hanging over the railing, and calls down to his lover. "Calvin!"
Reclining on a poolside chaise not far from mine, Calvin looks up from his book and answers, "Uh-huh?"
"I need your help," Adonis says, his smile nothing short of devastating.
I'm not gay -- well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say I've never had a homosexual encounter. But the sight of him languidly draped over the railing in his Calvin Klein underwear causes a stirring in my loins and I don't know why. I don't even know him. I met Calvin at a pool party last week, but hadn't particularly liked him. Absently, I wonder if Adonis's choice of a lover named Calvin symbolizes an obsession with his own underwear or whether it's just a weird coincidence.
Rising from his chaise, Calvin looks my way, smiles, and gives me a little wave. I casually wave back and he walks off to the elevator. As the doors quietly close behind him, I can't help thinking he should've taken the stairs to get some of that egregious weight off him. When Calvin finally reaches him, Adonis takes Calvin's hand, leads him into their apartment, and closes the door behind them, giving them privacy for I'm sure I know not what. Then again, maybe I do, but I really don't want to know what I think I know.
* * * * *
My life is in somewhat of a tumble right now. My lady, Jill, walked out on me three weeks ago, leaving me all alone in this apartment. Now, when I look at other couples, I hope they'll break up so I'll have a chance with the woman. If only I could find a woman to cherish forever.
I never expected to be attracted to another man -- until Calvin Klein showed me the way. Of course, I know my burgeoning fascination is both innocent and safe since he has a boyfriend. And because I'm not gay – really. Maybe I simply need to buy myself some of that sexy Calvin Klein underwear.
While eating a sandwich in the kitchen, I'm reminded once again how much I hate eating alone. Like so many other activities, when you eat alone, it becomes a meaningless chore you plod through as quickly as possible just to get it over with. And sometimes you say, "what the hell's the point," and don't do it at all.
I’ve lost five pounds since she left, but I haven’t told her that. I wouldn’t tell her that -- or anything for that matter. And my not telling her anything is directly related to the fact that I have no idea where she lives or with whom, or even what her phone number is. So the truth is, I couldn’t tell her anything even if I wanted to. She was nothing more than a sexual playmate anyway. Why I'm losing weight over her is beyond me? I really just don’t like being alone. Not to worry, I’ll get over it.
That afternoon, I go shopping and buy new Calvin Klein underwear at a fancy store in the mall. When I get home, with an almost maudlin feeling, I throw my threadbare standard jockeys away. I slip on my new Calvins and model them in my bedroom mirror -- her bedroom mirror, that is. The one above her dresser that's part of the bedroom set she hasn’t come back for yet.
I look pretty good, even if I do say so myself. My tummy is tight, my waistline is trim, my legs are a little hairy, and my chest is almost hairless. I’m certainly not as tall as I might be -- inches below Adonis. But still, I look pretty damn good.
* * * * *
Tired of being alone, the following Friday evening, I decide to go to a party with friends who live in the same apartment complex. I don't even know where the party is. And I really don't care as long as it gets me out of this damn apartment. Human companionship is what I need.
Dressing casually, I put on slacks, an open-collar shirt, and a pair of loafers. And of course, my Calvins.
Harry and Sally come down to get me. I’ve always liked them, even though they were originally my ex-lover’s friends. They don’t like her anymore and don’t hesitate to say so. I really like Sally’s sparkling blue eyes and curly blond hair. She looks like a doll -- one of those windup kind.
We go upstairs. I still haven’t asked which apartment we're going to. I just follow along like their cocker spaniel and am truly surprised when we enter Calvin and Theodore’s -- Ted’s -- place. Okay, yes, I found out Adonis's name.
We circulate, speaking to this person and that person. Everyone who's straight seems to be from this apartment building. But Calvin and Ted's gay friends are from all over town. And oddly enough, they appear to be much happier than the married couples here tonight.
Calvin comes over to greet us and make sure we have drinks before wandering off. Ted is busy with a group of adoring young men. Harry walks away and strikes up a conversation with another couple from the apartment complex.
“Wow,” Sally whispers in my ear, “what a waste!”
“Who're you talking about,” I ask. “Calvin?”
She guffaws. “You nuts?” She pulls away, looks around, then turns back to me and whispers again, “Him!”
I follow the direction of her index finger to find she's pointing at none other than Ted -- otherwise known as Adonis.
“Mr. America,” she says wistfully and suggestively sucks the finger she'd just been pointing with.
“You’re taken,” I whisper back. “It’s no loss to you.”
“You either,” she says with a crooked grin. “You're still heterosexual, aren’t you?”
I laugh nervously, not quite sure about my answer at the moment. Every possibility I run through my head seems to be followed by a "but."
“Well, aren’t you?” she asks with a raised brow.
“Of course, I am,” I say, deliberately ignoring the urge to say "but."
Suddenly, Harry appears and interjects, “What are you two whispering about?”
“She’s trying to get me into bed and didn’t want you to know,” I say, smiling at him.
“Ha! Take my wife, please!” he says, doing his Henny Youngman imitation, and then sips his drink.
Sally punches him playfully on the arm and looks around the room. “I don’t see any stray women in this joint. What are we going to do with you?”
“Don’t worry about me,” I say. “I’ll find somebody soon.”
Harry pipes up, “Hope it’s in time.”
“Yeah," Sally teases, "the explosion that's brewing could blow up the entire building.” Then she turns and walks over to the bar. I follow and lean against it while Sally gets a refill from the bartender.
“Look,” I say, “I think it’s very nice that you want to help, but you don’t have to find my women for me, you know?”
“Well, you don’t seem to be doing anything about it.”
“Who's had the time to think about someone new yet?”
She sips her drink and a petulant look suffuses her features. “Make up your mind soon," she says, nodding at Ted as he approaches the bar. "The competition is getting rough.” With a parting air kiss, she sashays off just as Ted comes up beside me.
“Nice shirt,” he says to me, then gestures to the bartender, who hands him a drink.
“Thanks," I say, trying to maintain my composure. "Nice party.”
