Date: Mon, 10 Feb 2003 22:34:44 -0800 (PST)
From: Thomas-Andre Bardwell <blackdivagod@yahoo.com>
Subject: "The Courtship: part one"

The Courtship
This is a true story.
Feedback is welcomed.
~Tom B

I moved into the "athlete dorm" in August.   I knew the atmosphere of the
building already through rumors and administrative warnings but I wanted a
single room desperately.   My senior year at (name) college was going to be
difficult so I needed the privacy and comfort of a room all to myself and I
was willing to take the risk.

I am an out gay college student yet through the allies I have made and the
manner in which I carry myself, I have gone through my academic years
unscathed.  Now as I enter my last lap of college, I've grown quite a
thickness of skin; so although there was a risk, I wasn't too afraid.

It's now the last two months of my second semester.  I've experienced this
interesting dance between this guy on my floor.  He's sitting next to me
now as I write this... I can hardly stand it.  Here's how it went.  Grab
your pen ...

Bleary-eyed and groggy, I stumble into the bathroom at 8:30 a.m.

I have this wonderful job at this horrible time but I've never been one to
skip out on work -- I have my parents to thank for this work ethic.

"Hey what's goin' on?"

"Nothing much," I reply into the sink.

"You alright?" he presses.

Now I'm not really a morning person so perky morning people annoy the shit
out of me.  I spin around to shoot my half-ass "I'm okay" response when I
suddenly swallow my words.  Standing behind me is this God of a man.

Tall.  Tan.   Toned.  Smiling.  Shirtless.

All of the prerequisites for the beginnings of a porn fantasy.

"I'm alright." I say adjusting my body toward his.  "Cool.  What are you up
to?"

Yes, at 8:30 a.m. I can't really resist the pun; I stifled a snicker.

"Preparing for work."

"Where do you work?"

What am I being interviewed?

As I take a minute to decide if this guy is annoying me or arousing me, he
shoots me a smile.  I concede -- he's definitely a charmer.

"I work in the theatre scene shop."

Yeah don't laugh, gay men like working with tools and wood too.

"Really?"

I can tell he's under the same assumption.  I'm not too masculine of a man.
In fact, I'm fairly effeminate, but not in the obsessive-Cher-fan, type.

"Yeah," I shoot back defiantly.

"Cool. Well, take it easy."

"Thanks."

I turned back to the sink to finish cleaning up when I noticed him stepping
toward the shower in the back of the bathroom.

I would like to take this time out to thank God for (a) constructing this
bathroom in this manner -- with no curtain to hide behind and all three
mirrors granting full view toward the shower; (b) blessing me to live on
this floor where the nearest male bathroom is near my room; (c) keeping up
with my work ethic.

I memorized every step: he turned on the shower, positioned his soap and
shampoo, flung his towel over the shower rail, tested the water, and then
dropped his shorts and stepped in.  I got full view of this beautiful man's
beautiful ass.  Toned.  Tight.  Hairless.

I nearly swallowed my toothpaste.