I was at a lovely Beverly Hills mansion for a work-related lunch. I mention the "Beverly Hills" and "mansion" part not to impress but rather to set the unlikely scene for the events that unfolded...or revealed themselves, as it were.
We were sitting at tables on the lush patio, chatting about how this will never be our life when the gabbing was interrupted by a male voice saying, "Excuse me, everyone." Now I will try to describe my thought process as I looked up at the speaker. That man is someone I don't know. That man is wearing a fireman's hat. That man is saying something about a birthday. Oh no. No way. That man is a-- As that last phrase was forming in my head, a gay co-worker obviously thought the same thing I did. But he had a slightly different take which was, "Take your shirt off." And that man did. In fact, he did the ole rip-the-t-shirt-open bit. And breakaway pants! And since this was a semi-fancy affair, that man wore tight, white briefs. No thongs, thankfully. But clingy, nonetheless. So clingy that I didn't really see the need for the red suspenders that were attached to them. Yes, that man had the talent to rip his blue t-shirt down the middle and taaa-daaa his jeans without taking his suspenders off. Because they were attached to the briefs. That man used those suspenders as a prop to gyrate suggestively over my poor co-worker who was concurrently blushing and threatening revenge. And thankfully for all our sakes, the briefs stayed on. (Side note: before you ask, he himself was not "brief". If you get my meaning. His other job, come to find out, is modeling underwear for a questionable catalog. And I don't know for sure if it's questionable. I merely say that because I don't recall seeing "briefs" of that non-brevity in the JC Penny catalog.)
I would now like to state that all of my observations happened within a few seconds because I recall spending most of the time looking at my plate of chips and salsa. Oh, I did also look at the other horrified expressions of my tablemates. Well, not all were horrified. Some were just plain shell-shocked. And some had cameras. I just couldn't believe that it was really happening. And I was slightly disappointed at the lack of imagination. A fireman? Really? We work for a non-profit. Couldn't that man at least dress up as a trustee of a foundation? "Hello, I would like to make a donation..." Boom chicka bow bow!
Amenities of Room 361: View of Well-Manicured Gardens. Fine Silverware and Crystal Glasses. 100-Foot Fire Hose.
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