Page 60 - Some Dance to Remember

30 Jack Fritscher

Moving to an angle in the old mirror that, when I caught the
distortion just right, made my arms look bigger than they were.
It gave me an image to grow into. I really worked at it.”
He lowered to a manly modesty.
“I guess I have lucky genes. My mom and dad have good
bodies. They said I was eating them out of house and home. The
next summer I went back to Muscle Shoals. I was about four
inches taller and a few pounds heavier. But the trucker wasn’t
stopping by anymore.” He leaned forward, rested his forearms
on his thighs, raised his face, and looked me straight in the eye.
“So that’s how muscle turned me around. Especially on arms.
They’re Big Guns. That’s where a man shines. Ask any guy to
show you some muscle and ten-to-one he’ll flash you a biceps
shot. It’s natural. If I ever compete, I don’t care if I win or not,
as long as I can take home the trophy for the Best Arms. So,” he
said, “that’s it. That’s how I got hooked on muscle.”
Kick relaxed back into Dan’s chair. He was smooth, slow,
easy. Natural. The El Lay night was hot. I could smell his body
heating up the leather of his police jacket. Sweet sweat was build-
ing up in him. His blond face glistened. He was in no rush to
wham-bam. His discipline of slow southern savoring kept him in
cool control of his courting foreplay. He was intent on pleasing
me. He smiled at me the way a man smiles when he’s giving a
new friend a gift. “I think I better take this jacket off,” he said. He
stood up. He reached for the zipper. Everything slipped into slow
motion. His blue eyes squinted, sizing me up. Slowly, deliberately,
he grazed the back of his hairy blond hand across his strong All-
American jaw. His holster and gun and night stick shifted. His
shoulders and chest bulked huge under the jacket.
One part of me thought, omigod this is Hollywood! Another
part of me thought, Oh, God, this is Heaven! The best gay sex
scenes are half of both.
I was hooked to the tits. I couldn’t resist him and didn’t want
to. I picked up his scene. I jumped on in. Words came tumbling
from my mouth. Sextalk. Muscletalk. Mantalk. The scene had
begun. I wasn’t acting; nor was he. We were doing a number
on each other, a real number. His hand slowly pulled the zipper
down every tooth of the leather jacket.
“When you take it off,” I said, “this will be my first look at
you.”

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