Page 34 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

“When I was like twenty-six.” Back then, I could get drunk the night before, wake up and run six miles, then eat a mountain of pancakes for breakfast. The young folks truly didn’t know how good they had it.

The sounds and smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen filled the space. Leo walked past me. “I’m making a fresh pot.”

“I’m not a runner.”

The coffee smelled too good to pass up. I turned my head to Jesus and cursed. Looked like I was running this morning.

* * *

Once I hadmy medically necessary morning cup of coffee, Leo lent me shorts and a moisture-wicking T-shirt. Outside the house, Leo showed me stretches for my calves, quads, and something called an IT band that ran up my leg. A crisp autumn chill swept through the air. Leo watched me with a perverse entertainment, amused by my hatred of running.

“It’s cold and dark out.” The first flecks of sunlight streaked across the sky.

“It’ll get lighter and warmer at the perfect point in the trail. The view will blow you away. I run this path every morning, same time. Trust me.”

“I always trust you.” He was lifting my expectations of this view, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“What kind of exercise do you do, Dust? You’re in good shape.”

“Carpentry is exercise enough.”

“Seems to be working well for you.” He looked away for a moment. A residual surge of blushing hit my face. “You should do some stretching first.”

Leo bent down to touch his toes. I followed his lead but could only reach my shins. I would’ve done better had I not been thinking about what he looked like from the back in this position. His ass was the only part of him I didn’t see in the pictures last night, but he had a nice curve from what I’d gathered from my trip so far.

Why the fuck was I gathering data on Leo’s ass? If I were more flexible, I’d smack my head against the ground.

“Don’t pull up yet,” he said. “Let your top half hang there and lower itself inch by inch.”

“You sound like a yoga instructor.” My spine unraveled as I inched closer to the ground, heat stretching through my legs.

“You took yoga?” he asked.

“No. But I once dated a yoga instructor. She could fold like a pretzel.”

“Thanks for that visual.”

I smiled to myself. Fun times.

Next, he had me do a quad stretch, where I pulled a leg to my butt to match Leo. I held onto the side of the house for balance. I had flashbacks to gym class and holding onto my ear lobe for balance.

“Tuck your tailbone so you get a deeper stretch.” Leo tried to demonstrate, but I couldn’t tell the difference.

“How do I tuck my tailbone? Like how drag queens do it?”

Leo snorted. “Wrong tuck.”

He moved behind me and pushed into my lower back, applying gentle but firm pressure. “Feel your tailbone? Now tuck it so that your spine straightens and you really feel the stretch in your thigh.”

I was putty in his hands. In fact, the only part of me straighter than my spine was my dick, which didn’t have the leeway for a random erection in these shorts. I pushed my foot into my hand harder, feeling the pull of my quad muscles to stop thinking about Leo’s warm hands dangerously close to my, uh, danger zones.

“How does that feel? Do you feel it?”

Oh, I felt something.

I stepped out of his clutches for the sake of our friendship. I then stretched the other quad, watching him do the same, his body long and lean like a flamingo on one leg. Hopefully, exercise would help me, uh, exercise all this pent-up–confusion? Horniness? Weird form of jet lag?

“Ready?” Leo clapped his hands together.

---