Get A Little Bit Closer, Won't You?

Cologne.

I could smell it on him as soon as I started following behind, headed in the direction of the small room with the patients chair.

I think it was Aqua di Gio. Its clean, woodsy fragrance with its deep ocean notes mixed with the stale breath that comes with dehydration.

He looked like he should have been at a happy hour somewhere. Or maybe in a locker room changing out of his blue striped dress shirt and into some Under Armour for a sweaty game of racquetball.

He should have been having fun that afternoon. He was pretty enough to have fun every afternoon.

I could tell he'd run some gel though his hair this morning. His light brown hair stood up with the faintest of spikes that belied his otherwise clean-cut, conservative appearance.

There was a ring.

It was one of those, thick, chunky titanium versions - it could have been just a ring, but I would have been a fool to really believe that.

The regular doctor was out, he explained, and he was lucky because he got to meet all the hip, young clients who work and can't make early appointments.

He asked me to sit in the chair and then he rolled over his own seat about an arm's length away from me. He was cute about flipping through all the lenses, asking me whether I could read the Z S O H T on the bottom of the screen. Doc gently touched my eyelids and cheeks as he inched a bright blue light right to the edge of my iris.

He said my eyes were perfect.

Yes, doctor. I have a perfect eye for taste, and style and sex - and you were all three rolled up into one.

Maybe he'll be there when I have to pick up my frames in seven days.

Maybe.