Toby is always one to ogle men—you can look but you can’t touch, according to Denver—while they undress on a hot summer day at the beach, or next to the in-ground pool. He becomes awestruck, aroused, and intoxicated by the DPS’s good looks, particular the shape of his muscular chest and the man’s creamy tangles of brown hair that line his navel, abs, and pecs. Frankly, Carey the bear resembles a God on the patio, dropping his mandatory delivery hat, tan shirt, brown belt, shoes, and socks to the patio’s bricks. He licks his lips, hungry for the man, and says, “You’re almost there. Take the shorts and underwear off, if you’re wearing any.”
Carey is wearing underwear: sky blue briefs that cup his plump private parts with some exact definition. Tight fabric that outlines his dick and balls; a cotton-lycra blend designed by an expensive name brand. He pulls one side of the briefs down and now the other side. What lies beneath is a limp cock that Toby believes he’s seen before, and recently. Also, Carey shows off clean-shaven balls, muscular thighs, and—
The briefs are kicked off, Carey spins around, and the delivery man walks up to the edge of the pool. His ass is bulbous, untanned, and perfectly tight. An ass that Toby believes that he has seen before, but he just can’t seem to place a finger of the time and place such a visual action has occurred in his life.
The DPS man dives into the pool, arches his back with perfection and skill, keeps his ankles together in a tight action, and points his crescent-shaped arms, hands, and fingers directly at the water’s surface. There is very little splash as the naked man—someone who Toby finds just as attractive as Denver—dives into the pool’s water. And Carey swims underneath the blue, along the pool’s bottom, until he reaches the shallow end of the pool, eventually surfacing.
Perhaps it’s the final piece of Toby’s “picture” puzzle when Carey swims back to the deep end of the pool, climbs out of the warm water, and stands directly in front of him, dripping wet and waiting for a towel, which Toby hasn’t yet retrieved from a chaise for the afternoon swimmer to use. Suddenly, and rather bluntly, Toby is slapped with a reality check—or the tumbling blocks of a metaphorical wall that has been constructed poorly in his mind—and realizes that the dripping wet man who delivers the overnighted DPS envelopes on a daily basis is his secret admirer. It’s Carey who has been taking the photographs of his own body parts (selfies as the world calls them now in social circles) and has been sending the appealing pics to Toby, using a bogus return mailing address and DPS supplies.
“You’re him,” Toby says, pointing in the direction of Carey’s chest. “You’re the one sending the pics of body parts to me. It’s not someone from Oklahoma City. It’s…you. And you’ve been playing with me almost every day.”
Carey begins to shake his head and admits, “But I wasn’t playing with you. Rather, I didn’t intend to play with you. I just happened to have an interest in you and knew that it was a way to see you on a daily basis.”
“You’re married, though.”
“And some married guys want to play.
Toby shakes his head. “You’re the last person I thought would send me selfies.” It’s a ridiculous comment, though, because it all makes sense now to Toby. He knows that Carey has the ability to ship things for free and place fake labels on overnight packages. And the body parts, both the ones in the photographs that Carey has sent to Toby, and the naked ones on the patio standing in front of him right now, are identical in every way. Toby believes Carey when he says he wasn’t playing a game, and that Carey likes him. Why else would Carey stray from his norm on this hot, summertime day, and risk his job to take a naked swim in the pool? There is no other explanation, Toby surmises. Not a single one.