Now, let’s go back in time to when the couple first meet….

At 9:45 a.m., the phone’s ringing interrupted my bittersweet memories. It was Mrs. Jackson, my house manager. “Mr. Kelly,” she announced, “Mr. Rios, Jr., your 10 o’clock, is here to see you.” Rios would be the fourth applicant for my Chief of Security position.

Rios was minutes early. A good sign. I liked that. Promptness was one of my pet peeves.

Rios had impeccable credentials: college educated. Clients included corporate execs and government officials. Skilled in the martial arts. Bodybuilder/boxer.

I decided to take the winding staircase instead of the elevator to the first floor. Rios and Mrs. Jackson were sitting in the foyer, waiting. When they caught sight of me, they rose. And when I first saw Rios, something in my pants rose to full attention. Throbbed, in fact. (Do you know what I’m talkin’ about? It was “Mr. Woody,” doggone it!)

Rios was a fuckin’ site to behold! Ruggedly handsome, he was 6’4”, 280 muscularly immense pounds. Massively built and exquisitely proportioned, he was, simply put, a “bodybuilder’s bodybuilder.” Powerful, wide neck. Barn door shoulders. Bowling ball biceps. Horseshoe triceps. Chiseled, expansive chest. Narrow, firm waist. And the way his jeans fit! Daymn. I could detect that he owned humungous glutes and calves…and (gleefully) sumthn’ else.

And daymn, let’s not forget the “muscleazz.” It was delightfully round, flawlessly shaped. Two perfectly inflated basketballs. Most def scrumptiouslybootylicious.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kelly,” Rios smiled, broadly. That 100-watt grinned could’ve lit up the entire nation’s capitol. And what cinnamon-spearmint breath he had!

Evans/Nothing Can Tear Us Apart

Immediately extending his power-packed mitt, he followed with, “Thanks so much for this opportunity.” “Stud Man” had this syrupy, so sensual low baritone, with a full heapin’ helping of Latin accent stirred in for good measure.

And his eyes! A liquid blue-green, they seemed to be as endless as an ocean, sucking you right in. They peered deep inside, searching for the real you. I swore they seemed to have a life of their own…

Rios had a caramel-tinged complexion, and short, curly jet-black hair. His sideburns connected with a neatly trimmed goatee, which in turn merged into his ‘stache. He had these full lips, which begged you to kiss them. Mos’ def.

And his handclasp! God. It was warm, supremely confident. Well-manicured, those hands were like meat cleavers—so thick, sturdy and powerful. His touch, his grasp, made my entire fuckin’ body tingle through and through. Nobody--and I do mean, nobody—had touched me like that in what seemed like eons. I swallowed hard. Like Nelly said, “Hot in Here.”

Floating back to earth, I responded, “I’m sure the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Rios. Welcome.” And not to be outdone, I returned a formidable clasp of the hand myself.

And without warning, our eyes seemed to zoom into each other, like heat-seeking missiles. After reaching their destination, they settled into the lockdown position. And then, all of a sudden, that ol’ magical thang called “chemistry” burst forth, spinning around, engulfing us. The sensation was electric, hard-hitting, exciting…though downright scary. It was as if Mrs. Jackson weren’t in the room, that the big man and I had tucked ourselves away in our own secluded, far-flung universe. Hey—remember that song, “Don’t Disturb this Groove?” Well, this was it.

And, hmmmm…I could swear he was checkin’ me out, scopin’ me, as well. And I noticed him noticing my erection. (Y’all, I’ve got a “big whopper,” and we ain’t talkin’ Burger King here! Smile.) The muscle stud’s eyes stretched wide for a couple of seconds…

As I chatted with “Mr. Man,” the chemistry between us was becoming red hot, deliciously intense. It had gripped me so tight that it “made me wanna holla!” Antonio radiated such pure animal magnetism, along with such enticing, sensitive masculinity. The attraction, although undeniably appealing, was intoxicating, bordering on the overwhelming…

Then all of a sudden, in that moment, my mind stumbled into a dense fog. I began to fantasize, to have nastee thoughts about Antonio. Ahhh…yes…both of us buttnekked, him doggy style, perched on my broad mahogany desk. Ahhh…me kneeling, with his bubblebuttbootylicious ass all up in my face…me swathed in delicious anticipation while I’m stroking, fondling, and squeezing that marvelously round, voluptuous treasure.

Me, salivating, as I’m so slowly, so deliberately parting those tepid, lusciously solid muscle cheeks. Squeezing them, prying them W-I-D-E open. Him enthralled in passion, vocalizing erotic murmurs.

Me, after thoroughly licking and lapping the entirety of that musclebooty, with what seemed like forever…and two days, skillfully, leisurely delving my tongue so deeply in and out, in and out, of the tight, lush, moist “valley” of that bubblebuttbootyliciousazz. Me, becoming even more aroused by the exquisite sensations inspiring and driving Antonio to grunt and groan, shake, rattle and roll…Him pushing my head closer into his glorious musclebootytreasuretrove…

Me, after finishing my delectable, tasty feast, and at the zenith of my nasteeness, carefully and totally lubing up the entrance to BigGuy’s valley, which had the heat and moisture reminiscent of a tropical rain forest. Then, I slipped on a latex “raincoat,” and…

Abruptly, a resonant voice of authority inquired, “Say, Mr. Kelly…are ya feelin’ aight?”

Needless to say, I hired Antonio. But not on the spot. Didn’t wanna seem too eager.

And now, the “joyride” began. In earnest. (Smile.)

Wyatt O’Brian Evans is CEO and founder of Nair’Bo Universal. He’s also a writer, actor, stand-up comedian, and voice-over instructor/talent. He conceived, developed and wrote a gay, Black, erotic serial for “Gay Black Male” magazine, which was quite popular. This is his first full-length novel. To order “Nothing Can Tear Us Apart,” visit: www.lulu.com/content/833337. And, visit Wyatt’s web site at: www.wyattobrianevans.com