We were just setting out for a walk when the Marine came back from a run. In one of his chatty moods, he lingered awhile to shoot the breeze and pat the dogs. No stroking for me, although he did wrap his beefy paw around my shriveled one with surprising tenderness.
Unfortunately, we'd just finished a two-hour appointment, and Sparkle, uncharacteristically businesslike, scurried past him when he crouched to greet her, scotching my chance to look up his shorts. But it was enough to bask in his virility as he stood there, a slight sheen on his perfect body, its light dusting of golden fur glowing in the late-day sun.