If you have been a reader of my blog then you are aware of the few post concerning the repairman, the first one was entitled: Almost and the other one hinted to possibly another encounter posted only a day or so ago entitled: Peekaboo. This is the conclusion.
He came into my world a perfect stranger, unimposing yet with an air of self-assuredness about him but then he was here to do a job. Had he walked into a room full of people some heads would have turned, but most would have only offered a glance or two before returning to whatever it was that held their attention, perhaps a book or back to a boring conversation, having made no lasting impression in their preoccupied minds. Admittedly, there was nothing Roman God like about him, no chiseled chest of muscles, bulging biceps, but there was something, and on this day he was standing in my doorway. There was no room full of people, only the two of us exchanging introductions, out stretched hands, firm handshake, nice hands. There was an aura of innocence, an essence of wholesomeness about him, he was no doubt a good son, a good brother, and from the ring of gold on his third finger of his left hand, a good husband. We talked while he did his work, steady, sure of himself and his ability, stopping on occasion to make eye contact, his eyes sparkling or was it only a reflection of my own I was seeing. What was it about this stranger that had me drawn to him as a moth is drawn to the flickering of a candle flame? Here I was a man wondering what it would be like to embrace another man. Here I was a man wondering what it would be like to slowly unbutton his shirt, button by button exposing more of what my eyes were already feasting on, a tuff of man hair peeking out from a few already opened buttons.
My eyes falling downward, I wondered what lie hidden from my view, lost for a moment in thought, perhaps I allowed my gaze to linger too long. Looking back up our eyes met, was there a slight smile on his lips, a twinkle in his eye? I wondered? I came close to throwing caution to the wind, I came close to opening the door of this closet and for once stepping outside, I came close. Believe me I thought about it, I thought about it more than once, I would be lying if I said I didn't but I let the chance slip through my fingers.
Fast forward a few weeks and call it what you will, bad luck perhaps good luck, but in either case there would be another meeting between myself and the repairman. Ok, I'm not ashamed to admit it, I found myself having warm fuzzies thinking about the possibilities. Heck, I didn't even know if he would be the same guy to come back or if another one would get the call but I guess the Gods were smiling down from above. The doorbell rang, door opens, and once again there is no room full of people, only the two of us, standing there. Another greeting, another handshake, nice hands, he followed me inside. The ease of conversation present as it had been on our first meeting, maybe more so.
We talked while he did his work, steady, sure of himself and his ability, stopping on occasion to make eye contact, his eyes sparkling, mine filled with lust and desire. My mind made up, I was going to chance it. I was going to swing open this closet door. My heart pounded like an African jungle drum from a Tarzan movie. We talked, he worked, the pounding of the drum got louder and louder, he found the problem, a minor one, no charge he was saying, he would take care of it, smiling, eyes sparkling, as he finished. Then it happened.....
Don't ask me how, but somehow it happened, what on my part had only been a first name was followed by a last name, followed by the son of, brother to, husband of . . . the pounding of the drums slowed as I was thinking it really is a small world after all. There is relief that "IT" did not happen. As a dear friend once told me, fantasizing about what might have happened can be more stimulating than what could have happened in reality.
Stephen slowly shuts the door.