by Jeff Baker
Dinner with a handsome, muscular Greek man had long been one of my fantasies.
Sitting across the table, watching his smile across a sumptuous Greek meal prepared by the finest available chefs.
But the table was in my small apartment kitchen, dinner was a glass of wine and a Greek salad, the best I could do.
And my dinner date was not buff or tall. Skinny, hardly muscular. Scraggly dark hair.
But Nicky had that smile. And eyes, as much eyes for me as mine were for him.
We happily munched the salad and sipped the wine.
I tell him the grilled cheese sandwiches will be ready soon. I apologize for not having Feta cheese.
He grins broadly and we both laugh.
A beautiful man, a beautiful evening.