To whet your appetite, here is what happens after Holly decides to free herself from her ex's mindset.
“Hey, what did that door ever do to you?” Her neighbor, Steven Dearborne, spoke from his doorway. The only time Blaine met Steven, her former fiancée claimed the other man was a horn dog. “Don’t talk to him. He wants to fuck you. A guy doesn’t smile at a girl unless he wants to fuck her.” She had believed Blaine’s assessment. After all, her ex-fiancé was older and more experienced. Hindsight told her his order revealed more about Blaine than about Steven. As a result of her blind trust, she knew very little about Steven.
He was a graduate student in math, shaved his head, and wasn’t with his noisy girlfriend any more. Today, his bald scalp gleamed with perspiration.
Unlike slender, hairless Blaine, Steven’s auburn chest hair decorated a broad barrel chest set with heavy muscles. He would have been right at home in one of those old pirate movies with strong men chained to the oars. Holly gazed at his chest. His pectoral muscles rose from his sternum in a graceful arch. His belly wasn’t a cobbled eight pack, but it was flat and tight, belying the stereotype of the sedentary math major. His reddish body hair was fine and pettable, like the softest fur.
Under that thin coat, his muscles moved with a supple enticement, drawing her attention to the line from his navel to his crotch. Holly glanced down, expecting to see the ubiquitous cargo shorts all men wore around campus. Instead, Steven wore a black and tan sarong decorated with enormous, frolicking geckos. His lax genitalia pressed against the thin cotton. He hooked his thumb under the waistband of his sarong and fanned his fingers.
Steven was framing his wedding tackle. Steven was uncircumcised and dressed to the right. Well, hello, Steven.