ever met. Since my role in the show is not large enough to merit my own dressing room, I dress with the male chorus, which is fine with me. I have seen Brian naked (or nearly so) as we change for the various scenes, and help him with either his costume or make-up, as I do for all the guys, especially since many of them are less-experienced. I have been drooling over Brian since his first audition, and am quite gratified to see how his eyes follow certain of the guys when he thinks no one can see where he is looking (he forgets how many angles of reflection there are in a roomful of mirrors, as a theatrical dressing room usually has). Unfortunately for me, Brian has any number of guys of his own age (and some a couple of years younger) to pick from, and his eyes never seem to wander towards me – I am not that much older than he is, but when you’re 23 (as Brian is), somebody nearly 30 (as I am) seems a dinosaur…

During our six weeks’ of rehearsals, leading up to two weekends of performances, Brian had cut quite a swath through the entire company, both male and female, and he had quite a following – but, when you have a body that nice, and that face, and that sweet personality, almost everybody’s attitude was like mine – grab it if you can. At the dress rehearsal, I am standing backstage, with the schoolboy/Acolytes next to me and the villagers behind them. We’re listening for our music cue to go on, which we do at a fast trot. Brian is overdoing the ‘frisky’ bit somewhat, and stands galloping in place like a young colt eager to be out of the starting gate. The skirts of his full-length Acolyte costume fly up, and the twin bubbles of his well-muscled butt are displayed for all to see and appreciate as he cavorts in the semi-darkness backstage. Then our music comes and he is off like a shot, and stands onstage alone, turned towards me, face flushed and perspiring, the kind of picture of youthful, athletic, energetic young manhood that the ancient Greeks immortalized in sculpture, and from which Michelangelo took inspiration. I stagger onstage under the burden of the biggest, most rock-solid erection I have ever experienced, and nearly miss my first cue…

The show has its run, and the last I see of Brian is at the well-lubricated cast party, sitting on a couch, with a girl in his lap, another girl behind him leaning over with her arms around his neck, cradling his head between her boobs, and his arms around the shoulders of two of the gayest guys in the chorus, one on each side, and all sorts of gropings, fondlings – and hearty laughs – being had by all.

I was truly surprised, then, to find a phone message the Wednesday following the cast party, from Brian. I called back, and that deep, somewhat husky speaking voice answered. He asked if I was busy Friday and I said no, and then he said “Well, I thought I’d try out the fish fry at that place you always talk about – The Taverne in the Towne. I’ve never been there, but if you want to join me I’d like that.” I said I’d be glad to (natch) and we set up to meet at 8:00pm.

I’ve written about The Taverne in the Towne elsewhere, so I won’t go into a detailed description