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Is it just me who gets bent out of shape about thirty-odd year-old men running around on skateboards like they’re still fifteen? Shirts off and tucked into cut-offs or belted cargo shorts that are rolled up to just below the knee. Beat-up Converse sneakers with a flumpy bit of sock showing. Scooting along the boardwalk like they own it and don’t have a care in the world?
I got nothing against sk8er boiz. Some are pretty damn cute. Especially when they’ve got well-formed legs, back and ass, and a cap on backwards to hold their hair out of their face. My favorites are those with full pecs, trim belly and hair glinting in the sun as they race past. I’ve had a few of them. Guys who got nothing against doing it with whoever.
But those were college-age, maybe mid-twenties, when the skateboard world was already beginning to recede from their focus...like it had, for me. They’d be out hitting the parks to just keep up their skills, show the younger guys some tricks, even help the kids who just starting out. Them, I appreciated.
Guys past thirty?
Like Dylan?
Fucking Dylan.
Perfect fucking Dylan.
Who I know for a fact is thirty-two, even though he looks ten years younger. And has one of those bodies that looks like it was formed by AI. And clean, crisp features under a steady bit of scruff. Deep brown hair where it counts. Legs to die for. An ass from heaven. Still scooting along the boardwalk like he’s a kid.
And ignoring me.
Fucking ignoring me!
Sk8er boiz don’t ignore me, I don’t give a fuck who they are. I’m Rett, short for Garrett. Just hit thirty-four, and look it. Which I don’t mind because I’ve got those Irish good-looks that make it work for me. Dark hair slightly sun-bleached. Taut body and legs from running and using the monkey-bars on the beach. A guy who’s always good for a chat and honest feedback on your form...and, as mentioned, maybe a one-on-one party in his condo overlooking the ocean...if you’re cute enough...and old enough.
And if a little cash changes hands? It’s no big deal.
I’m pretty well-off, even for LA. Sold a couple screenplays and done some rewrites, and stayed smart with my money. I have a couple projects in the works and have potential deals for more.
As for Dylan, he models underwear. Which makes sense, considering his buff beauty, perfect ass and a basket filled to the brim. Done it for all the big names. Billboards along Sunset. Even a fair amount of catwalking. Which I’ve seen, thanks to a friend of mine who always has tickets.
Oh, that wasn’t when I first saw Dylan. It was as I was looking at my condo and wondering about offering a bid. The real estate agent was letting me wander about to think it over...as he called three other potential buyers, I’m sure.
I was on the boardwalk looking out over the Pacific and had almost talked myself out of it. The price was hefty. So I’d turned to go inside with the bad news when Dylan came roaring past at probably forty miles an hour and yelled, “Watch it, asshole!”
At me.
I jolted and caught a look at him as he roared on down the pavement, being a complete dick to everyone in his way. And revealing what was, as already mentioned, the world’s most perfect ass under a pair of white onion-skin shorts over white athletic boxer-briefs. Giving his board another kick while flexing his amazing back and showing off his perfect legs...
And I fell in lust, right then and there.
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