The Hired Hand
Near lunchtime on Friday, Curtis walked down from the house to the barbecue patio where Javier was repairing the brick walkway and wall. “Are you hungry Javier?”
“Yes.” The hired hand, shirtless and barefoot, leaning on his knees, slung the shovel over his shoulder.
Curtis, sexually aroused, stared at his wiry, cropped hairy chest. His eyes gazed at Javier’s unzipped jeans, slightly lowered, exposing his white briefs. “I’ll bring down your lunch and something cool to drink.” He paused, mesmerized by Javier’s noncommittal expression. “Why don’t you rest in the patio. I’ll be back in a flash.”
Retreating to the house, Curtis pondered his intentions in hiring Javier. Is he getting back at me for hiring someone young and attractive like him? He works harder than I expected, but I pay him well for an eight hour day. Shit! Has he read my attraction? I’m old enough to be his father.
When he returned with cold beer and fried chicken, Curtis found his helper, stripped to his briefs, sitting, relaxed, in a deck chair. “I’m joining you for lunch. I hope you don’t mind.”
Javier winked. His lips perked up to a smile, expressing a hint of a tease.