His name was Tom. He was there to set up the equipment for a photo and light show, but my impression was that he was there to have fun. After we spoke for awhile (you know, the surface type conversation: How about that weather? What do you do for a living? etc…) he asked me to dance. This is always my little test to see how well a man can move. He moved so well, all kinds of thoughts ran through my mind — “I wonder what his cock would taste like? I bet he could fuck for hours.”

We danced and drank throughout the evening, our chitchat becoming more personal. He asked me for my number (which always throws me into a panic “Will he call????”). He shook my hand and kissed my cheek and promised he would call. Yea, right! Sure he’ll call. A good looking man like this surely has several women — why bother with another one? Guess my self-confidence was a little out of joint.

Come the following Monday I get the call. “Hi, this is Tom.”

(...)
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