I walked down the stairs and turned the corner, and there he was. "Swarthy" might be the best one-word description, but a lot more words were immediately floating through my head. I stopped right next to him, smiled, and turned my head around the corner to catch my boss's attention, but he was on the phone. We both stood there and waited patiently. I figured he was a vendor of some sort awaiting payment. He was dressed in jeans, one of those hooded sweatshirts and jacket over it, maybe an inch or two shorter than me, and probably about 20 pounds heavier. But his face was what I tried hard not to stare at. He put out his hand, introduced himself, we shook, I told him my name. I immediately forgot his, as I often do. His face. Big, thick, full goatee, which he pet and stroked while we both stood waiting to get the attention of the boss. Dark, I almost expected him to be Hispanic like many of the workers here, but his accent was clear English, with a hint of, hmmm, Brooklyn? Queens? Deep dark eyes, and what really grabbed my attention, his eyebrows. The fullest, thickest, most munchable eyebrows I had ever seen, sitting just below his leather cap, I did my best not to appear to stare. Then I noticed his forearms - also hairy - dark, furry arms that made me wonder what his belly, legs, and chest hairs might look, and feel, like. The boss finally got off the phone, talked briefly to this guy, then handed me my "bank" and I left, saying something lame and unimaginative like "bye."

A week or two later, I was working a Sunday day shift, filling in for someone, and there he was, at the bar, eating something. Hmmm, maybe he works at one of the other restaurants (I think we have 3 in Manhattan). Sleeves pulled up, revealing those delicious forearms, I passed by just to get a credit card checked, and returned to the take-out side, not able to see him any longer. But my thoughts were full of him; how I'd playfully chew on those thick eyebrows (I'm not kidding, they're like bushy dark brown hamsters sitting atop his eyes!), gently kiss his dark eyelids as he slept beside me, snuggle my face between his neck and strong shoulder..... I didn't even think of sex, per se, or wonder about his genitals - it was the face that I knew I could stare at forever, the thick warm body I could cling to for hours at a time.

Yesterday morning I get to work - now I will be working Sunday days every week - and I get to the basement to get some supplies I'll need for the day, and there he is, talking to some of the Mexican staff who work in the kitchen. Gulp. I get the stuff I need, hoping to get out of the supply room fast enough to get one more look. I pass by, and just as I begin to walk up the stairs I turn back, and see that he has turned slightly and our eyes meet for the briefest second as we both keep going. Naw, he didn't purposely turn to see me, did he? Maybe a half hour later I see him on the ground floor, in the restaurant, talking to the manager, then he leaves. Nope, nothing there. But I'm smiling, just having the fresh memory of that face. Probably straight, hopefully clueless what I'm thinking, but the handsomest man I've seen in a long time. The day progresses slowly, uneventfully, as I get along well with the delivery guy assigned to me for dayshifts. A little bored, I go into the restaurant side to refill my paper coffee cup at the bar, and Eyebrow Man is sitting there, right on the other side of the coffee pot, eating. I smile weakly, in acknowledgment, but careful not to smile that way and he semi-acknowledges me. While I am happy to get another closer view of his handsome, rugged, kissable lickable face, I worry that I may be too obvious. I don't like the idea of making someone nervous or uncomfortable, especially a coworker (granted, I've only seen him 3 times in over a month), and I quickly go back to my take-out side. A few minutes later, while gazing out the window to the street, I see him cross, and get into a big white truck. Is this some fantasy porno-romance novel I'm writing? Swarthy handsome truck driver teases horny middle aged man until he can't take it any more? I stare out across as he gets in, his beautiful head moving slightly to look for traffic, and I notice the delivery guy looking at me, wondering what has caught my eye, so I shift a bit so as not to appear to be staring, drooling at the vision across the road. Eyebrow Man pulls away, my heart very slowly begins to settle back into its normal beat, and I sit back behind the counter.