My mom and dad gave me sailing lessons for my 18th birthday. The school was on a lake in the middle of Oakland, and although I could have driven, it was easier to just take the bus which dropped me off right in front of the boathouse. One of the days the bus was fairly crowded and only one pair of seats across from me was open. At one of the stops a man got on dressed very nicely in a suit. He sat down and nodded and said hello. We struck up a conversation, and he said his name was Nash. He spoke excellent English but with an odd accent I couldnt place. Where are you from, I asked? Durban, Suid-Afrika, he replied. We chatted about this and that and before either of us realized we were at my stop. Which, it turned out, was his stop, too. He said he had a job interview at one of the office buildings that were nearby. We shook hands and parted company. My sailing lesson went well, and it was about 2 hours later when I walked back out to the bus stop and Nash was there waiting for his bus. Months later I would realize he had been cruising me and maybe didnt even have a job interview, but I was a little naïve at the time. We continued our conversation and the bus arrived and we returned back to my town. As we neared his stop he said hed like to see me again and asked me for my phone number. In hindsight, this should have struck me as being quite odd, but I didnt think so at the time and gave it to him without another thought. Late the following week my phone rang and the caller ID showed a lengthy string of numbers that was obviously an international call. It was Nash, saying hed like to see me again and could I come to his place on Saturday? For some reason I still dont understand, warning bells werent going off. For another reason I couldnt understand I lied to my mom and said I was going to a sailing lesson. I boarded my usual bus, but only went as far as Nashs stop. The directions hed given me to his apartment were clear. He buzzed me in and I went upstairs, knocked and he let me in. It was a very warm summer day, and he was dressed in a t-shirt and cargo shorts just like I was. The first thing I noticed was how incredibly hairy his arms and legs were. Even the tops of his feet were covered with black, curly hair. Viewed from his perspective, I suppose the direct approach made sense. He said, simply, I want to make love to you. I gasped in surprise and shock at his directness. He stripped off his t-shirt and tossed it aside. Aside from being much taller than me, easily 6'2", he was in excellent shape, and his chest and shoulders were a thicket of more of the dark, curly hair. He slapped his belly hard! and the crack echoed in the air. I staggered back and leaned against his couch. He walked up to me, and in a quiet voice, he said, I have very big genitals. I want to show them to you, and then use them to make love to you. I panicked, and gasped that I had to go, and turned and dashed towards the door. I slammed the door and raced down the stairs. I burst into the lobby and crashed out into the street, startling two passersby. I pelted down the street for at least two blocks and jammed into a carport. My heart was racing and I was panting, not so much from the exertion as from the shock of what had just transpired. My mind was racing. A thousand thoughts swirled through my mind. And then, almost without conscious thought, I walked slowly back down the street. My heart was hammering as I rang the bell and the buzzer let me in. I slowly walked up the stairs with my heart in my mouth and my chest heaving. His door was slightly ajar. I walked in and closed the door behind me.