Once Upon a Time There Was a Young Stud

Once upon a time, there was a man. A hot, hot man. His name was Young Stud. Young Stud was a blue-eyed, sweet-faced, sparkly-eyed, broad-shouldered…Stud. He had the softest hair covering his strong chest - it was enough to make all the girls all the gay boys this woman swoon.

Young Stud was a very intelligent man. Conversations with him were uncomplicated and always satisfying. He was well read and spiritual and inside his soul lived a thousand years of wisdom. Wisdom he had yet to discover yet I knew existed.

One day while I was at work, Young Stud called and said he needed some ibuprofen and being the kind, caring person that I am, I invited his fine ass him over to my desk to get whatever he damn well pleased some ibuprofen.

While working feverishly trying to fix the pentagram and chain I wear around my neck, I caught a mere glimpse of someone surreptitiously walking toward me. I realized it was Him.

I stopped what I was doing and spun my chair around to face him as he rounded the corner into my cube. My feet hit the floor as I abruptly stopped my chair from spinning. My mouth fell open slightly as I gazed at him over the top of my very trendy glasses.

There was a certain something today that was different. Something irresistible.

My eyes ogled looked him over. Why, today, was I stripped of my breath by the same guy I frequently take breaks and have lunch with? He looked warm and sexy (sexier than usual). It was as though my eyes had fallen upon the most beautiful painting. I was drawn in.

I felt something stir inside of me.

His torso looked amazing. His shoulders especially broad. Something was offsetting those piercing blue eyes.

He stood before me wearing a predominately black sweater that looked absolutely remarkable on him. Across his yummy pecs, a broad gray stripe that appeared to increase the size of his already strong chest.

My mouth went dry. Desire flooded my motionless body. Suddenly I found myself, well, hungry! Desirous for something I hadn’t had in a while. “What” he asked. “That sweater doesn’t suck…it looks amazing on you,” I said as I struggled to form the sentence.

He laughed and shook his head and got all sparkly eyed at the compliment. All I could do was sigh…really big.

Apparently I had “that look” in my eyes. I’d inquire as to what look – but at this point, I think it’s pretty clear.

Mental Note to Self: Seasonal Affective Disorder shall be powerless if what I have to look forward to this winter is Young Stud wearing sweaters like that one. Damn, baby, bring on the rain.