He was there, in the aisles of Costco, studying a bottle of really nice viognier, probably a Blair Fox. His slacks and linen shirt were kinda wrinkled, but hidden by a sports jacket that looked too formal for Santa Barbara. I had to talk to him, but what was I going to say? Hi;) thats a great wine, kinda peach-flowery and mineral, with a creamy nectar finish, like your chest. Ok, I wouldn’t say that, about his chest, but I would definitely be thinking about what was under his clothes, and I don’t mean just the skin, of the grape, of course.
No, I couldn’t say anything, for fear of sounding like a fool, a fool in love. But on the other hand, how could I not say anything, if this guy could be a love of my life? I needed to just say hi, introduce myself, ask him if…
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