Slabs of Men

I love the term slab to describe a hulking, hot, strapping stud. They're big mesomorphic bulls who just command attention. They're big but not too big. They are gods who inspire awe. Slabs come in more than one size, but they're never diminutive.

I had a meeting this week in Century City at a firm with a penthouse suite. I got in an empty elevator and, just as the door was closing, a younger bass male voice called out "hold the door please."

It was at once a request and a command. I stuck my hand between the doors so they would open. Two seconds later, a courier hustled in the elevator car. He was about 25, 6'4", a true slab of studliness wearing a snug sweaty T-shirt and cargo pants. You see guys like this all over LA, aspiring actors parking cars, waiting tables, delivering packages.

"Thanks dude," he said with a wide smile. He poked a button for two floors below mine, then leaned against the wall and rocked his shoulders whilst making a little "ah" noise. He had a wonderful scent of male flesh and clean sweat. The car stopped on his floor and the doors open. "Later" he called with a smile as he exited.

It was a minute in heaven with a god.