Holiday Matinee

an excerpt



"Jack?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want a glass of wine before it starts?"

I looked at Michael, coming out of my trance. His familiar blue eyes stared into mine with slight puzzlement.

"Um ... no. Let's just find our seats."

The lobby of the National Arts Centre, buzzing with fancy-dressed patrons, always made me remember my first encounter with Michael. Two months ago, at a play that my sister had invited me to, I saw him. We immediately recognized a mutual attraction, but because of my sister's obliviousness to the fact of Michael's sexual predispositions, and her intense crush on her sexy English professor, it was awkward. We'd sorted it out eventually.

And here we were again. All of those intense feelings I'd felt on first seeing him came back with a rush. We walked slowly up the red-carpeted steps to the mezzanine level.

"What were you thinking about down there?" he asked, his smooth voice quiet and intimate. He knew exactly what I was thinking about.

"The first time I saw you."

"I was thinking about that too. I don't even remember the name of the play. I just remember you."

I took his hand discreetly as we climbed the broad, closely spaced steps.

I said, "Y'know, I was checking out your ass when we went upstairs that day. You were talking to Amy. And I was looking at your ass. And thinking that I couldn't have it." I let go of his hand and swept mine quickly over his jean-clad bottom.

His lips quirked up into a shy smile. He glanced at me. "And now it's yours. All of me is yours, Jack."

"Damn right," I nodded as we reached the top of the stairs. I turned to face him and walked backwards, staring into his eyes. "You never stood a chance, Michael."

He laughed. His blue eyes sparkled with desire. "Don't I know it."