My version of man on woman sensuality just got rawer

Continuing adventures of character inspired by Mark Leyner.

When is this heat and humidity going to let up? This morning I’m waiting for the bus to Dupont Circle. I’m in my Carla Behrle leather pants. No shirt. Armani frames with blue tinted lenses to better stalk my prey. And the leather is sticking mightily to my banana hammock and chaffing my thighs. I subtly grab a hold and readjust myself as the bus arrives. To my surprise there many lovelies on board and more on the way as we head for the Circle.

It’s not too crowded as has been of late, so there is plenty of room for me to give the ladies a Front Double Biceps, Front Lat Spread, Side Chest, Back Double Biceps, and signature Back Lat Spread. Sorry men. You shouldn’t be jealous of something you could never hope to obtain—muscle mass, ripped definition, intensity, stamina, dignity, flair. As I finish, I flex, wink, and point with a trigger finger to some of the nearby lovelies, my head bobbing in rhythm to music only I can hear. Today I’ve got my iPod. Tom Jones is singing “Help Yourself” and I’m thinking, “My love is like candy on a shelf, ladies, and if you want a taste help yourself.”

At least that is what I was thinking when the lovelies jump me en masse. I’ve got lovelies hanging off my arms and legs as I make my way off the bus. Outside, I shake them off one at a time and head for the Red Line. I really need to try to cut back on the raw animal sensuality I exude, especially on these warmer days when my body is pumping out massive quantities of the scent of Eros, pheromones.

Me you ask? Tom Jones. High fashion. Ripped definition. Stalking my prey on public transportation. That is what I am about. And if you are tired of the metrosexual milquetoast denizens of craigslist, and are ready to try out my raw and animalistic version of man on woman sensuality, you know where to find me.