.The doorbell rang, breaking me out of my reverie: with a curse, I pushed the magazine to the floor, kicking it under the lounge and hastily pulling u... my boxers and jeans to hide my raging hard-on. The doorbell rang again."Just a sec!" I called out, doing my best to disguise the tent in my pants (without success), and straightening out my shirt as I made my way to the door. Throwing it open, I was confronted by one of my best friends, and also one of the objects of my fantasies, Kyle.He was. It's what I do for a living. Much better than a real job.We survived the forty-eight hours before the main event after sweating through the numerous pre-parties, where the most difficult job was trying to empty the glasses before the most generous host could refill them, then walking to the next party, only to repeat the chore of keeping the glasses empty, taking pictures all the while. I bless the folks who invented auto-focus.(Sorry if I tend to stray from the point of the tale, but I cannot. More

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