The appetizing scent of T-bone steak, cheddar mashed potatoes, and baked butternut squash drifts into my nostrils. A semi-naked Darsey in nothing more than a pair of my yellow boxer-briefs serves me a frosted glass of beer. He smells about as delicious as the meal: a fresh shower, Ivory soap, and small dabs of sandalwood cologne on his chest.
“This is a big surprise,” I tell him, taking the beer, kicking off my boots. “Aren’t you supposed to be spending the night with Cliff?”
“He has a migraine and wanted to be alone. I thought I’d feed you and…maybe you could feed me after you eat.” He helps me out of my winter jacket and tassel cap.
“What did you have in mind to eat?”
“I’m a big carnivore,” he says, placing my boots, jacket, and other winter things in the closet in the foyer.
“So me
