After dressing in Lucky Brand jeans and a Tommy Bahama floral print shirt (he put on his grandmother’s diamond engagement ring for effect), Robert laid out the hors d’oeuvres. Green olives, rice crackers, red grapes, a nice gouda, and roasted red pepper hummus. Can’t forget the cocktail linen napkins and the appetizer plates from Pottery Barn, he thought. And the cocktails, he’d stopped at Tower Liquor to pick up the Grey Goose, Tanqueray, Johnny Walker Black Label, and bottles of red and white just to round it out. Of course, he’d gotten the mixers. Now who’d forget the mixers?
He heard the knock on the door just as he finished setting up the hors d’oeuvres. William stood there, just as he’d expected. Inside his head, Robert let out a little gasp. Levis torn at the knees, black boots with thick metal spurs, a tank top that had Pitcher spelled across the nipples, and a silver nose ring. Robert notice matted armpit hair and a flesh-colored mole under it, the kind that looked like a spider sac before all the little babies were born.
“Hey Robert,” Williams said, walking right into the apartment and grabbing him by the crotch. “Nice package, know what we’re doing tonight.”
Robert groaned inside his head. “Why don’t you come in, we’ll have a drink before dinner. I’m preparing red snapper and asparagus.”
William winked, laughed, and looked toward the bedroom door. “I’ve got other ideas in mind. Let’s get comfortable.” And with that, William lifted his arms and took off his shirt.
Woah, Robert said to himself -- but now was the time to kick William out. And yet ...
“Hot chest,” he said. “I guess cocktails can wait.”
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