I leaned for a moment on the bed of the old Ford truck. Its rear tires were flat; the paint was peeling and dull. I was standing in the parking area of an ageing apartment complex. The single-story buildings were painted gray; they were of wood that probably had been cut from nearby forests by men who lived in this Oregon logging town. The lawns and walks of the complex were clean, trimmed. I looked to my right. A door opened and a man stepped out, raised his hand and motioned me in.
Meeting men for sex dates on the internet is a curious process. The contact often starts with a simple Hi or the winking eye on my favorite hook-up site. For lots of reasons it usually doesn't go beyond sharing a few dick pics. And, typical of roaming around on the net, I had arrived at Morgan's profile by a circuitous route: a man contacted me through one site and sent a picture with a another site's number on it, a site often used by older guys. I decided to check him out, created a profile and posted it. Nothing came of our flirtation, but three days later a guy from Corvallis contacted me and I did a location search to find his profile. I tripped across Morgan's, in which he offered "full body sensual massage." He was forty years old, two hundred twenty pounds, oral versatile. I have always wanted an erotic massage, so I sent him an email. That's how I arrived here, at this moment, standing by an old pick-up at the Peoria Grove Apartments.
The man who stood in the door was tall, as promised, well built and dressed in brown canvas work pants and a t-shirt. His brown hair was cut short, as was his beard. He looked younger than forty, and handsomer than I'd expected. Since we hadn't exchanged photos, until this moment I really didn't know what to expect. Morgan extended his strong hand and we introduced ourselves. With a friendly expression he beckoned me into the small room.
