I wear Boss, Armani. Designer jeans. I frequent three star restaurants, rock concerts, operas. I travel abroad, meet the rich and famous (okay, let's ...ay the well to do and the local snobs). Isn't it lovely, my life? Yeah, exactly who am I fooling? Truth is that I do have all that. But one icy glance of a gorgeous beauty and all of it slides off me like flesh off a skeleton in a horror movie. It leaves me as naked and ugly as fifteen years back — fumbling, stuttering. Believe me: men like me. She tossed the leggings my way, did a pirouette, and then struck a flirty pose for me. She looked incredible in the red bra and matching red panties. "What do you think?" I was definitely turned on. Anyone looking at the bulge in my pants could see that. But I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. Not just yet, anyway. I slowly took another sip out of my wine glass. "So far, it's really nothing I haven't already seen at the beach or when you were sunbathing," I said. "But yeah, you look. More

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