Plains, June 2017
The Wednesday after my return from Amsterdam, I'm at the oral surgeon's office, waiting to get a wisdom tooth removed.
It's a more delicate procedure than you might think.
No solid food or exercise for the next 48 hours.
On the third day, I can try jogging and eating normally, but nothing with granules (rice, potato chips) for a couple of weeks.
Antibiotics and two pain medications, one narcotic.
No "sucking" for at least a week. The oral surgeon probably means through a straw, but I imagine no oral, either.
While I am sitting in the waiting room, a woman comes in with her two sons. I can't tell which is older.
Brother #1 is not exactly a supreme beauty, but he's very, very cute: shorter than me, slim, with a round open face, short black hair, prominent eyebrows, high cheekbones, dimples, and square workman's hands.
He's wearing a black t-shirt, short pants (no bulge), and sandals.
He sits on the side of his mother farthest from me, immersed in nonstop texting.
Brother #2 is tall, with a square face, sharp features, glasses, and a slim physique. He's wearing a button-down shirt with a white undershirt visible underneath, slacks (no visible bulge), and orange shoes.
He gives me an obvious face-crotch-face cruising gaze, then sits down to fill out a form.
Remembering when I have been cruised at doctor's offices before -- at the sports doctor, while waiting for a colonoscopy -- I wonder if I can follow through and land a date or a hookup.
Problem: he's with his mother and brother. Not much maneuvering room.
Another problem: I'll be called any minute.
I check Grindr on my cell phone, on the off chance he's there. Nope.
Brother #2 finishes the form and drops it off at the receptionist's desk. I go up to pretend to ask where the bathroom is, and try to check his name.
All I can see in a brief glance is "Oliver."
I look back -- Oliver is watching me. He smiles.
Since I asked, I have to actually use the bathroom. It's out in the hallway, shared with the insurance agency next door -- one urinal, one toilet, one sink. I go in, pretend to urinate, turn to wash my hands -- and Brother #1 is there!
The full story, with nude photos and explicit sexual content, is on Tales of West Hollywood.
The Wednesday after my return from Amsterdam, I'm at the oral surgeon's office, waiting to get a wisdom tooth removed.
It's a more delicate procedure than you might think.
No solid food or exercise for the next 48 hours.
On the third day, I can try jogging and eating normally, but nothing with granules (rice, potato chips) for a couple of weeks.
Antibiotics and two pain medications, one narcotic.
No "sucking" for at least a week. The oral surgeon probably means through a straw, but I imagine no oral, either.
While I am sitting in the waiting room, a woman comes in with her two sons. I can't tell which is older.
Brother #1 is not exactly a supreme beauty, but he's very, very cute: shorter than me, slim, with a round open face, short black hair, prominent eyebrows, high cheekbones, dimples, and square workman's hands.
He's wearing a black t-shirt, short pants (no bulge), and sandals.
He sits on the side of his mother farthest from me, immersed in nonstop texting.
Brother #2 is tall, with a square face, sharp features, glasses, and a slim physique. He's wearing a button-down shirt with a white undershirt visible underneath, slacks (no visible bulge), and orange shoes.
He gives me an obvious face-crotch-face cruising gaze, then sits down to fill out a form.
Remembering when I have been cruised at doctor's offices before -- at the sports doctor, while waiting for a colonoscopy -- I wonder if I can follow through and land a date or a hookup.
Problem: he's with his mother and brother. Not much maneuvering room.
Another problem: I'll be called any minute.
I check Grindr on my cell phone, on the off chance he's there. Nope.
Brother #2 finishes the form and drops it off at the receptionist's desk. I go up to pretend to ask where the bathroom is, and try to check his name.
All I can see in a brief glance is "Oliver."
I look back -- Oliver is watching me. He smiles.
Since I asked, I have to actually use the bathroom. It's out in the hallway, shared with the insurance agency next door -- one urinal, one toilet, one sink. I go in, pretend to urinate, turn to wash my hands -- and Brother #1 is there!
The full story, with nude photos and explicit sexual content, is on Tales of West Hollywood.