SITES: Muscle Worship
I met Philippe on a late night train from Avignon to Paris. It was a warm, early spring night and a rain had started to fall just as we left the station in the old town of Avignon in Provence.
What luck, I thought, that I had the compartment all to myself, as I could read and then sleep without interruption. But all that changed as we were pulling away from a brief stop and the door opened and what I saw made my heart skip a beat.
A bodybuilder, on his way home after competing in a small, provincial contest, entered the compartment and sprawled down on the seat facing mine; wearing true skin-tight Levi's and a white tank top with a thick leather band around one 22-inch arm.
I must have been staring intently...too intently..since he began slowly flexing his biceps...small flexes, just across his chest, all the while staring back at me with a slight, seductive grin.
He stood suddenly, towering above me, "Mind if I turn out the light?" he asked.
The train had stopped, the clouds parted, and a full moon lighted the compartment in a soft blue moonglow...bright enough...quite bright enough to see Philippe, staring directly at me, slowly raising his right arm to an awesome powerful flex.
Sleep never came that night on that late train to Paris.