Wednesday. The following day. I phoned Ulana during my lunch hour at MCI. My office door was closed, a salad sat in front of me on my desk, and my cellular leaned against a rubber perch. Of course, Ulana was busy: the photographer at work. And I had called at a very bad time.
I had her on Skype and saw half naked male bodies hurriedly moving around this way and that way in front of a white backdrop that looked like a sheet. Nothing was left to my imagination at the photo shoot. Male navels lined with subtle and soft looking hair. I saw cowboy hats galore, jean-covered asses, and huge Oklahoma state-shaped belt buckles. Handsome male faces sported rugged cheek bones. Hard n*****s. Beautifully tanned torsos accessorized with pumped pecs. Golden-sunned shoulders of man-steel. Denim-rounded p
