Sam

“A spa?"
"Yeah, Avalon Spa, you know the place near the mall?"
"Oh, right. What do you do there?"
Again, the nervous glance at the floor, and the small flush of color rising up his neck. "I'm a masseur. Which I know sounds phony as hell, but I'm licensed and everything. Also, my clients are women- the only men at Avalon are the ones on staff. And while I've got nothing against women at all- I'd have no friends in high school if it weren't for women- I find them as sexually attractive as roadkill possum."
Roan had to swallow back a laugh. "Don't tell them that."
"Oh, God no! I'd never get any tips then.”
― Andrea Speed, Bloodlines

“I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living.”
― Dr. Seuss

“The unfed mind devours itself.”
― Gore Vidal

“Opening the door, he nearly did a double take into the mirror behind
him.
Hooch. Hooch, pushing his shades back up onto his head, and re-shouldering the bergan. Hooch, standing in the doorway.
“Been thinking.”
Two words, more than usual.
“Been around a bit.”
Six, speech worthy of a national holiday.
“Looking for a station now.”
Eleven, whole fucking fireworks.
"Central station.”
Thirteen, and the heavens came down for Matt.
“You still offering?”
Sixteen, and the world stopped spinning.
Matt stood thinking for a while, not a muscle in his face twitched. Then
stepped aside, gestured the other man to follow him. Closed the door.
“One condition.”
Hooch’s brows rose for a split second.
Matt broke into a grin at last, which threatened to split his face. “Promise
not to talk too much.”
― Marquesate, Special Forces