So I’m leaving work, heading towards the building door, when I spot this bike messenger. Now, maybe I’m doing a little conjecturing here, but I think he was about twenty, intelligent, probably taking a year off from college to “sort things out,” and bisexual. Though one day he’ll be a top, right now he’s just a boy and pretty much open to anything, and he’s gorgeous! He’s dressed in jeans and one of those black thermal jackets, he’s got tousled blond hair, pale dry skin, and big wide eyes and — keys hanging on the right.
So now I’m at the top of the stairs and I say:
Dutchman: Nice keys.
Delivery Boy: Huh? (Sees my keys and points.) Yeah, keys!
Dutchman: Wear them on the right, do you?
(About now, Mary Pat, from a big PR firm in the building comes down the stairs. She’s my age and has worked in the building and known me since Pumpkin was born.)
Delivery Boy: (Stands real loose, resting the package on one hip.) Sometimes.
Dutchman: I always dress left.
(So now Mary Pat can hear everything we’re saying and she kind of slows down.)
Delivery Boy: Look —uhm— this is my last delivery of the day.
Dutchman: So, you’re as good as off in five minutes?
(Mary Pat is staring right at me, as if to say “What are you doing?”)
Delivery Boy: Yeah —uh— want to go get a cup of coffee or something?
Dutchman: (Laughs.) I can’t. My partner’s got dinner waiting for me at home.
(Mary Pat has stopped dead on the bottom stair.)
Delivery Boy: You’re partnered?
Dutchman: Been partnered nineteen years.
Delivery Boy: Wow, you don’t look that old.
Dutchman: Thanx.
(The elevator’s there and the boy gets in. Mary Pat walks right up to me and asks:)
Mary Pat: Aren’t you married?
Dutchman: Yeah. (Steps to the door and begins to head out.)
Mary Pat: Well — then why did you say “partnered?”
Dutchman: That boy’s gorgeous; I didn’t want him thinking I was straight!
Mary Pat: (Stops dead.)
Dutchman: (Out the door.)
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