Hal sees the man in the gray suit and he knows what he wants to do, but should he?

The "man" is closer to a boy playing dress-up, but Hal doesn't mind. Hal's alternated between following and preceding him down the wooded path to the water's edge, at a cruisy area Hal knows pretty well. Lordy that cologne the man/boy is wearing! Hal had caught a strong trace of it in his wake.

A closer look shows the suit not to be a solid gray but a subtle plaid. The boy has upped the ante with a red power tie, complementary braces and pocket silk. Finished off with wing-tips of that maroon-brown color you only see on shoes like this. Hal guesses the man/boy probably about 25, a junior-exec, starter-accountant type. Man, boy, whatever. They're all Suits.

Standing nearer one another now, neither Hal nor the Suit saying anything, opting instead for tentative, non-verbal cues, Hal taking the Suit's hand to his own, starting to rub the front of the Suit's pants first, then his own, leaning in so their faces nearly touch. Alternating back and forth, till both start growing.

Then Hal shifting slightly in attitude. Letting go of the Suit's hand, and placing both of his own on the Suit's shoulders, applying pressure downward as if to clearly communicate, "Now's the part when you get down on your knees."

The Suit resists, looks around the area a bit nervously, chuckles arrogantly, "Uh, I don't suck dick."

Hal leans in again, weaves his hands underneath the Suit's jacket and grabs hold of the braced suspenders, almost lifting the Suit in the air, dragging him ever closer to the water's edge. "You might need an attitude adjustment."

"You wouldn't," the Suit says.

"You're right," Hal replies, letting go.

"Thought not." The Suit makes a show of straightening his slightly disheveled self, tightening his tie knot, checking to see that his braces are securely fashioned, tweaking the pocket silk.

Hal smiles, guides his and the Suit's right hands back down the front of the Suit's pants, and lets them both hang out there for a while, Hal's left hand free to meander underneath the Suit's jacket. The starch in that shirt! Ever so slightly snapping the back of the Suit's suspenders, finally resting on the backside of those delicate, plaid trousers.

The Suit closes his eyes and smiles.

"My boy is pleased," Hal says, suddenly letting go of the Suit everywhere, before placing both hands firmly on the Suit's chest, "but will he be after the splash?"