He’s tall and well built, as most all of the men tonight have been, but there’s something different about the way he carries himself. Maybe it’s the suit he’s wearing.
Instead of going up on the stage, he turns at the front of the floor and heads toward the center. It’s then that I realize there’s a second man coming from the other side of the room, and he appears to be a mirror image of the first. They meet in front of the stage and look out into the audience as hands start waving at them.
Stretching my neck to get a better look, I see that the men are identical twins. Individually, each man would be eye catching, but together, they are striking in their black tuxedos, the crisp white shirts beneath making their rich brown skin glow with warmth. They share the same short haircuts and have matching mustaches and closely-trimmed facial hair. Each of them are broad as can be, and I have the odd thought of wondering whether or not I could circle my arms around their upper bodies. Maybe I could stand on tiptoe and embrace their necks.
They’re grinning as they scan the crowd. They point and nod and confer with each other as if they’re trying to make a decision. Finally, they seem to settle on something, and together they stride toward one of the tables up front. My view is blocked for a moment, and when I next catch sight of them, they’re leading a woman onto the stage. She’s between them, each of her hands wrapping around one of their arms as they escort her.
I’ll bet the fabric of their suits is soft to the touch while covering what is no doubt rock hard muscle underneath. The only skin showing is their faces and their hands, but you can just tell how fit they must be.
The men lead the audience member to the table. One gallantly holds the chair out for her as the other supports her arm as she sits. Their total focus is on her as one of them mimics pouring wine before the other entwines his arm with hers and they each pretend to drink.
A red and pink bouquet is produced from some unseen spot and presented to her. The men gaze adoringly at the woman as she smells the flowers and smiles like she’s never been happier in her life. After they set the flowers on the table, they each take one of her hands and plant a tender kiss on the backs of them with coordinated timing.
A strange tingle dances down my back.
After the kisses, there’s dancing, the two men taking turns spinning the woman around, dipping her, romancing her in the most beautiful way, all of their attention focused solely on her, rather than on the audience, unlike all of the performances that preceded this one.
A sofa is pushed out onto the stage, and the lighting changes. We’re led to believe the two men have taken this lucky woman home.
They wrap a fluffy white robe around her and settle her onto the center cushion. As she — and everyone in the audience — watches them, the men remove their suit jackets to cheering, which they seem not to hear.
In unison, the twins roll up their sleeves, revealing forearms as thick and strong as I’d imagined. As the audience continues to go wild, one of the men positions himself behind the woman and begins to give her a back rub as the other man slips off her shoes and rubs her feet.
Complicated feelings swirl inside me. I can imagine myself in this woman’s place. I want to be this woman and have these two gorgeous men give me all of their attention as they pamper me. My ex never did anything like this for me — not even the dinner and dancing part, not even when we were younger — and suddenly I feel cheated. I shouldn’t have settled for what my husband had to offer.
A large, white, claw-footed bathtub appears on the stage, discreetly rolled out by a stagehand dressed in dark clothing. After the massage, the men lead the woman to the tub, where one of them mimes turning on the water and pouring in bubble bath. The other man unbuttons his shirt, and if I thought the crowd had been loud before, it’s nothing compared to how they scream for him now.
I don’t make a sound, but I notice my lips are parted, my heart is beating faster, and I probably don’t blink as I watch the man undress. Beneath his dress shirt there’s a thin, snug-fitting undershirt, the kind with no sleeves, and my god, the sight of his muscular arms and chest is the best thing I’ve seen all night.
I’m suddenly no longer numb, and certain parts of me are feeling all sorts of things.