Date: Sat, 16 May 2009 23:39:20 -0500
From: Klick Konner <klick.konner@gmail.com>
Subject: THE EVENT

It was a dark and stormy night.  (Sorry, I couldn't resist, because it was...)
The party was ending, and it was only 9:34 P.M.  The thunder and flashes had
continued throughout the evening.  It was THE EVENT honoring the
Presidential Museum in Little Rock, Arkansas in November of 2009.  The
president of the United States and his wife were in attendance, as well as a
former president and his wife, who were actually from Arkansas.  It was one
of the most exclusive groups of political contributors from every part of
the world.

My best friend, Elsa, convinced me to escort her, as she just booted her
last wealthy conquest to the curb three weeks ago, for getting caught with
her best girlfriend, Shay, who is still in the picture, by the way...

He was supposed to be here, not me.  I was just a hood ornament Elsa needed
to display.  My name is Aaron Fawcett.  I am a designer, and a lightly
published author.  I work on my diet and level of exercise, and am fairly
easy to look at.  I am not a gym rat, but I do push-ups and lift a few
weights at home.  The sit-ups are what keep me tight.

Every man on the face of the earth looks good in a well-tailored tuxedo.  Elsa
thinks I look like Cary Grant at 53.  I don't see it, but I AM 53, and
counting.  If you put a gun to my head forcing me to be honest, I find
myself attractive when I see me naked.  It seems arrogant, on one hand, yet
healthy on the other.  God gave me these genes, but charged me with the
maintenance.  I've done a respectable job.

As the thunder rolled between the cliffs that separated the estate from
Maumelle, three seconds later you could see the explosion of light through
the banks of enormous windows, illuminating the breathtaking view for miles
up the Arkansas River, with Petit Jean Mountain prominently centered.

Little by little, the other guests milled about, gathering their umbrellas
and hugging one another; air kisses, etcetera, and one by one began to exit
in pairs or small groups.

When his eyes locked onto mine, there seemed to be a momentary shift in the
earth's gravitational field.  I was fairly at ease with my sexuality, but
suddenly, everything I accepted as true, until this split second, paused.  He
was at least six feet, around one hundred and eighty pounds of taunt sinewy
muscle.  He was 55, and owned this mansion.  Others were vying for his
attention, but he stood soooo still, and for so long...

People began trying to locate the object of his attention.  I looked away.  My
heart was thudding.  I found it hard to breath.  I had never actually
believed in love at first sight.

"He was staring at you, Aaron!" Elsa hissed in my ear.

"I need to sit down."

"At first, I was soooo happy!  Then I figured out he was not looking at me.
He was looking at you, Aaron!" hissing again.

"I've lived in this town for over 20 years.  How could I have missed this
guy?"

"You never go out, goofball!  You think some fairy Godmother or Mary Poppins
is going to swoop in and present a man to your doorstep, who thinks you are
the tops because he just noticed you on the street and decided to pop into
your life?"

"He is one of the President's top advisors, Elsa.  I think you might have
misinterpreted."

"Aaron, you are either naive or blind.  I know!  I was standing right next
to you!  He was looking into your eyes from across the room.  And you looked
into his. Oui?"

"Oui."

I looked at Elsa.  She was staring over my shoulder, as if in a
twilight-zone-type-of trance.  I twisted around to see what she was staring
at when she went silent for a few seconds.  There he stood.  Then, the earth
stood still.  Really still.

"Thank you for coming.  My name is Kent Clark.  Ms Cunningham, Mr. Fawcett,
it is a definitive pleasure to meet you both.  Have you seen the house?"

How, on God's green earth did he know our names!?!  I kept forgetting to
exhale.  I am not easily shaken.  Cool as a cucumber, in general.  The kind
of guy one likes having around in a crisis.  A clear thinker...  but my brain
froze.  Dead still.  Who knows what I looked like from the outside?

He was an apparition.  Crisp, neatly clipped dark brown hair with a healthy
dose of grey, deep brown sparkling eyes, and well tanned skin.  I could see
my own eyes reflected in his.  I finally exhaled.

Elsa snapped out of it before I did.

"We have not had the pleasure, Mr. Clark.  Are you offering a private tour?"
Only Elsa.  She just has this way about her, often putting us in the most
fascinating, and sometimes unpredictable situations.  This one had many of
those earmarks.

He nodded as a king might do at a royal ceremony.  He lifted his arm for
Elsa to take, then nodded to me with an effortless grace.  His eyes locked
with mine for a moment, then released with a gentle twitch of his left eye.
My heart pounded.  I got a chubby as we walked across the great hall.  Hey!
I may be over fifty, but I still ejaculate at least once a day.

"Ms Cunningham..."

"Please call me Elsa.  Aaron probably feels the same."

"Alright.  But how will you know which one I am addressing?"

A full throttled laugh burst from my throat!

Elsa scrunched up her face and said "What?"

He looked at me, and let his left eyelid close ever so briefly.  I would
have missed it but for a breath I took in the middle of my outburst.

"What is so funny, Aaron?"

It's hard to explain an aristocratic sense of humor.  Dry.  Witty.  Sexy.  So
I didn't even try.  He smiled like a Cheshire cat.

"Elsa, Aaron, please, come this way."

We ascended the spiraled staircase to the left of the entry rotunda, whose
twin flanked the right side.   It was like a ramped up modern day version of
Gone With The Wind meets Winston Churchill.

Even in his exquisitely, obviously custom tailored black summer weight wool
tuxedo, I could see the rounded outline of his rear end as Kent and Elsa
floated up the stairs just ahead of me.  He glanced over his right shoulder
to see if I was following, and caught me looking.  The corner of his rose
colored lips ticked up on the right side as my eyes met his.

Kent Clark was gorgeous, and he seemed to know it, the way the queen of
England knows she is a monarch.  It just is.

At the top of the stairs, we stood looking down a one hundred yard hallway,
as wide as a city street, beautifully appointed with repeating consoles,
each flanked by massive wingback chairs of lush gold silk velvet with
center-stitched medallions.  The delicate crystal sconces repeated
themselves, at each seating, for its entire length.  The massive windows at
the far end of the long hallway overlooked the river running for miles to
the west as the lightening flashed in the distance.

Room by room, we paused at a set of French doors that opened into the center
of each one.  It was magnificent.  Perfection.  Priceless antiques appeared
to be the rule.  There were ten sets of doors on both the right and the
left, and the symmetry of this great hall was breathtaking.  Obviously, no
expense had been spared.

Our host strolled down the entire length of the opulent corridor with Elsa's
hand curled at the inside of his elbow and bicep, telling us the name of
each room as we paused momentarily to take it all in.  I had only seen this
sort of craftsmanship and design sense in the castles of Austria, France,
and Italy.

The floors were a polished Carrera white marble, covered in the center with
a richly aged-gold sculptured wool carpet runner that was twelve feet wide
and over two hundred and seventy-five feet long.  It was probably worth more
than both my and Elsa's homes and their current contents combined, which was
saying a great deal.

"Aaron, you haven't said much," he remarked.  "What do you think?"

I was thinking about the broad shoulders and narrow waist that floated in
front of me, but recovered as quickly as I could.

"Magnificent," I whispered.

Elsa and Kent paused, then turned to look at me.

"I hear you have rather developed sensibilities regarding architecture and
design, Aaron.  Is there anything I should do to improve on what you see?"

"Obviously, you do not need my opinion, Mr. Clark.  Your taste level exceeds
mine, I must admit."

"Aaron Fawcett!" exclaimed Elsa.  "I have never heard those words cross your
lips in our entire thirty years of association!  Begging your pardon, Mr.
Clark, but this is an absolute first!"

"Kent, please.  Both of you will use my first name, if it you don't mind."

I was mesmerized by the intensity of his eyes, yet still had my chub under
moderate control.  Drop-dead gorgeous, I'll have you know...

He turned to Elsa and said, "Which room would you like for the night?"

I only wish someone had captured her face at that very specific moment.  Faye
Rae could not have appeared more astonished when King Kong lifted her into
the air.

"Seriously?" Elsa squealed!

"Your wish is my command, Ms Cunningham." as he bowed slightly.  "Select any
room you want."

"I want the "Cream Suite."

"I will have it prepared as we share a drink in my study.  Follow me."

Prepared?  It looked like a museum already.  What could he mean by prepared?
I cannot remember ever having met so confident and poised a man as this.  He
walked, talked, thought, and smelled like a man.  That chub was winning, but
I persevered.



"The president and his wife will be two doors down.  I trust your discretion
is in tact?  One never knows what can happen with so many people in one
house after dark."

I cracked up.  Elsa frowned.  Kent dropped his lid, and the right side of
his mouth ticked up.  Dry humor.  This house is big enough to accommodate
eighty to a hundred overnight guests, and still not be at full capacity.  We
had seen only the rotunda and the second floor.  As we entered his study, I
almost wept.  More about that later.

As Kent spoke, I realized the power he possessed over those who were engaged
with him.  "Fear not, my lovely, there are only eight people staying the
night if you choose to join us."  I think he assumed I was a given.  He was
correct on said point.

My brain had shifted to autopilot.  I was waiting for everything and
everyone to disappear, leaving me alone with this man.  It was not to be,
just yet.

There was a soft rap at the study doors, and Kent went to them, pulling the
right door open ever so slightly after looking through the peep-hole.  Then,
in walked the president.

What does one do when that happens?  Nothing, in my case, other than stare
and try to breath normally.  The fact that a former president entered just
behind him kind of made the entire scene a bit surreal.

"My God!  Both of you in one room!  With me!!"  Leave it to Elsa to break
the ice!

"Mr. President, Mr. President, allow me to introduce Ms. Elsa Cunningham,
and Mr. Aaron Fawcett."

One half hour is a blur.  I could never, and would never, reveal the
contents of those next few minutes, but suffice to say, the proposal was
extraordinary

Two U.S. presidents, my best friend Elsa, me, and this incredible man
entered into an agreement that changed everything.  It was then, that he
kissed me.



Ask, and tell.