Not One Word

“Are you okay?”

As Ben Chapel cautiously approached the figure sitting all alone in the middle of the grass, the guy looked up. The look in the man’s eyes damn near took Ben’s breath away. All thoughts of his evening run were forgotten.

Crouching down alongside the strangely dressed form, Ben nibbled on his bottom lip as he tried to think of something to say. “Are you hurt?” he hazarded.

The guy shook his head.

Ben ran his gaze over the man before him--from the tip of his tiny black hat all the way down to where his torso disappeared into a flurry of...of some sort of white net skirt?

He had to be some sort of performer; maybe one of the mime artists that often set up shop in the park during the busier times of day. Maybe that’s why there was something strangely familiar about him...

Still, if Ben didn’t understand the clothes the other man wore, he certainly understood those parts of the other man that weren’t covered up. Lean lines of pale muscle called out to him. Ben’s palms itched with a sudden desire to reach out and stroke the guy’s bare skin.

Clearing his throat, Ben rested one elbow on a bent knee and wove his fingers together in an effort not to grope without an invitation.

The other man still stared up at him, his big soulful eyes heavily painted with makeup. The dark lines weren’t smudged. As dejected as he looked, he couldn’t have actually given way to tears at any point. That was good.

Ben looked over his shoulder, tracing the cycling path through the park until it curved out of view. There was no one else in sight. Bloody typical. He usually couldn’t complete his run without tripping over a dozen dog walkers, joggers, love-struck couples and kids on their way to feed the ducks at the pond.

Once more, Ben found his attention pulled back to the man sitting on the grass. He was so gorgeous, he looked almost otherworldly. “Are you on your own?” Ben asked.

He wasn’t sure what he expected him to say. Aliens probably didn’t admit that there was an orbiting mother ship waiting for them. Elfish folk almost certainly wouldn’t tell humans if there was an easy way to slip between magical and earthly worlds and meet all their friends.

For whatever reason, the only answer Ben received was a nod. The guy was alone. Ben took a deep breath, counted to ten, and did all those very sensible things a person should do when he knew damn well he was about to make a big mistake, but also knew that wasn’t going to stop himself from making it.

It wasn’t a good idea to pick up strange men in the park. He could be a serial killer or a psychopath. He could be a sadist...