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sandals or Asian slippers.
    James and I sat beside each other in a booth across from her, and I couldn’t even try to hide my scowl. I should have expected that she’d betray me like this. Women could be cutthroat when it came to snatching up the dwindling resource known as cute and single straight guys. Small wonder she set me up with a lesbian.
    “So, how was your date last night, Tracy? Anita’s her name, right?” Sheila looked right at me when she asked the question.
    I was so shocked that I couldn’t speak.
    James turned to me, “You’re gay?”
    “It wasn’t a date,” I coughed. My military neck was throbbing.
    He squinted at me and then at Sheila.
    “I keep telling her to just come out already, but whatever. It’s her decision, not mine. I mean, I was also against outing Jodie Foster.”
    Sheila smiled across at us in the most enticing way possible, and it required all of my will power not to stick a fork in her eye.
    “I must admit I like the boys, the men, the stronger sex,” she said. “Love their hands and feet, love the sexy line of their neck – the bobbing apple, the contour of the muscles, the way they walk, their masculine musty scent, and the casual charisma.”
    “Is that all?” I asked.
    She ignored me without once taking her eyes off of James. It was obvious that she was trying for Marilyn Monroe but came much closer to Rue McClanahan.
    “Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I’m off to the ladies room where I’ll powder my nose,” she said, and choked a little. The throaty whisper must have got stuck in her throat.
    James turned to me, “Is she out on a day pass?”
    “Probably.”
    “Really kinda wacky.”
    I relaxed instantly, almost grateful for Sheila’s antics. She was making me seem relatively sane.
    “But did you really go out with a woman? Because if you are gay, I’ll be really bummed out.”
    “You will?”
    “Yes.”
    “I went out last night, with a woman – who just happens to be pregnant. It wasn’t a date, though.”
    “What was it?”
    “Research.”
    “You’re not reassuring me, Tracy.”
    “I’m not gay – trust me.”
    I also wanted to admit that my stomach was now a frantic dance of the willies, thanks to the big sexy veins that were almost bulging free of his hands.
    “But I do have to tell you something, James.”
    “Okay – you’re seeing her again because men suck?”
    “No, although they do suck – sometimes.”
    I wasn’t sure how to continue.
    “Continue.”
    “I’ve just been feeling a little stressed lately and a little gross.”
    “And?”
    “And that’s enough.”
    He was quiet – just looked at me as though I might be as mad as a hatter.
    “What do you think of that?” I asked. I figured the only way to deal with my insecurities was simply to present them, air them out in the open.
    “I was just admiring your green eyes, alabaster skin, perfect nose, and sweet little mouth.”
    Alabaster skin?
    “Othello?” I asked.
    He nodded and downed a packet of artificial sweetener.
    I was thrilled. Not only had I never thought of myself in those terms, but how many hotties – plucked from the freeway – can quote Orwell
and
Shakespeare, “Thanks, but I don’t have a shred of lip and my nose is crooked.”
    He studied me to see if I was kidding, “You’re a little delusional.”
    We said nothing further on the topic – just studied our menus. And it was all okay because I could literally feel his attraction for me, and it felt rather overwhelming – especially since it matched my own for him.
    “Just how many hours were we in that hospital?” I asked.
    He looked at me the way Rob Lowe looked at Demi Moore in
About Last Night
, “I don’t know – I’ve lost track of
almost
everything.”
    Oh yes, indeed.
    Sheila came back and positioned herself into the booth so that her breasts literally surged forth, threatening to overspill her fuchsia tank top. Now that James and I had firmly re-established ourselves, we began to