For some the contours in a man’s jeans can inspire imagination, a second fleeting glance, a private fantasy. It might be your jeans they are looking at. When they see you at work, at a ball game, in a restaurant, you never know what other people are thinking when those masculine contours catch their eye. It could be a man or a woman that notices you, your secretary, your neighbor, a stranger on the street, or even your best friend.
Craig and Brian had known each other a year. They worked at the same firm. They went to the gym three times a week. They had become best friends. Their wives were at a bridge tournament in New York for a week, sixteen hundred miles away. At a sports bar during the first night of their wives’ absence, Craig, in the mood to celebrate a recent legal victory, had way too much to drink. When Brian took him home to his house to let him sober up, he didn’t know the next twenty-four hours would change his life.
