When they joined the line, Ken was shocked—and titillated—by what he saw. “Can you believe that?” he whispered to Derek. His voice was filled with quiet sarcasm and subtle outrage. “Believe what?” He pointed at the man, probably about the same age as they were, who was busy taking orders and ringing up purchases. “The dude who’s taking people’s money,” Ken said. “He’s not wearing a shirt. Though I’m not completely sure, I think he’s wearing swim trunks. There must be some local ordinance against serving food while half-dressed.” “Well, if there is, he doesn’t seem to care,” Derek replied. “Look closer, though. He’s a pretty attractive dude, Ken. Looks clean. People at the beach aren’t going to care if a hot dude is handing out sweets. Nor should you.” Playfully, Derek punched Ken’s arm. “You’re such a hypocrite.” Despite himself, Ken observed the young man closely, with an almost analytical eye. “I can’t argue about his appearance. He is quite handsome. And built like a brick shithouse. But if you’re playing matchmaker for me, Derek, just remember: He’s probably straight. I’m almost always drawn to straight men.” Derek continued to study the young man. Finally, he turned back to Ken. “You’re right. He’s probably straight. But don’t rule him out. That is, if you’re attracted to him. As I’ve said before, my gaydar is about as sensitive as yours. And this dude is setting mine off.” Derek turned his focus to Maryann. They chatted about college, their plans for the rest of the week, the special bond the six friends have had for several years. Meanwhile, Ken, with an intensity he’d never given himself credit for, studied the cashier who, apparently, was the “Dusty” mentioned in the name of the establishment. Still, despite Ken’s attraction, he couldn’t get over the fact that Dusty was working while wearing next to nothing. In his social circles, such behavior would be considered tacky, and Dusty would likely be considered a whore. Or, as his mother would say, asking for it. Finally, only one party lingered in front of them. Ken was shocked when Dusty set his sight directly on him, smiled and nodded. Even more shocked at himself when, automatically, he reciprocated. There was no denying the chemistry the two men shared. Then, the couple in front of them stepped aside. Ken, Derek and Maryann approached the counter. “How are you this evening?” Dusty’s question might have been targeted for the group, but he was only looking at Ken. Or, more specifically, he took in everything, from Ken’s face to his crotch and back again. Disrobing him with his eyes. Wondering what his flesh would feel like beneath his hands. Ken’s imagination shifted into overdrive. Dusty had given him much to work with. A gently bronzed chest and stomach. Beautiful patch of hair between his pectorals. Thick armpit hair, but not bushy or frizzy. When Ken stood on tiptoe, he caught a glimpse of Dusty’s legs, hairy, shapely, powerful. The legs of a runner. Then, his gaze ventured back to Dusty’s eyes, twinkling now as Dusty cast Ken a glowing smile. The attraction, Ken was convinced, was mutual.