Bohunk – Friday Flash Fic., Feb. 9


Silas gave the woman using the weight machine beside him a hard stare.

“Did you — did you just call me a “bohunk”?”

She sidelined a glance at him, moving her powerful arms up and down as her machine made smooth gliding noises. “Maybe?”

The young man with black hair, beard and nicely defined torso, said, “Isn’t that a John Hughes reference?”

Her eyes widened as she looked him over. “Very good. Now, which movie?”

Silas, not to be outdone, began using his weight machine to demonstrate the size of his muscular shoulders. “Sixteen Candles.”

The woman’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Nice.” Her eyes followed the bulges in his pectorals as he moved the machine.

“As I recall, the term wasn’t exactly used as a compliment,” Silas said, working his muscles deliberately harder for his attractive audience.

The woman giggled, her large biceps providing a mature counterpoint to her girlish levity. “Wow. I really didn’t expect you to get the reference at all,” she admitted.

Silas smiled, looking over the rest of the woman’s body and liking it. “It was one of my favourites. My much older sister was a huge John Hughes fan. She forced me to watch them all.”

The woman nodded, blowing a stray lock of hair off her forehead as she worked her arm muscles. “I wrote my Master’s Thesis on eighties adolescent culture as presented in those movies.”

Silas nodded, impressed. “Wow.”

“They come off a little bit sexist now though.”

Silas laughed. “Yeah, just a little. Still kinda romantic though. The whole thing with Sam and Jake.”

The woman pierced him with a hard stare this time. “Would never happen in real life. I crushed on guys like that all the time. They never gave me the time of day.”

Silas frowned. “Awe. I’m sorry.”

The woman laughed. “It’s okay. I don’t go for that type anymore.”

Silas cleared his throat. “What, uh, what type do you go for these days?”

The woman deliberately drew her eyes along Silas from his feet in the Adidas runners to the top of his Nike t-shirt, to his warm brown eyes. “Gym rats who know their John Hughes references.”

Silas gulped, a hesitant smile spreading on his face. One that was more of a wow than a look at me. “What’s your name?”

The weights of her machine clanged down as she let go and straightened, wiping the back of her neck with a towel. “Would you believe it’s Samantha?”

Silas nodded. “Sure. But mine’s not Jake. It’s Silas.”

Samantha shrugged. “Probably about time that movie got updated anyway, don’t you think? I’ll meet you at the water fountain in fifteen. Unless you need more time?”

Silas shook his head. “I don’t.”


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Author of gay erotica with MLR Press.

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