Matthew Montrose

_____________________________________________________________________________ | Sitting in the lap of a Swedish-looking young lady, the subject of the | | photo looks decidedly silly. He’s pouting, arching his back sensuously, and | | has his hand held against his forehead with fingers stretched in the shape | | of | | an ‘L’. Did he lose a bet?! | | This is a dusky-eyed, dark-skinned dude in his mid-thirties. | | He is 6’3″ and has bronzed-brown skin, black hair, and brown eyes. | | You can see his face, neck, upper chest, arms, and hands. | | This man’s skin glows like light reflecting off polished mahogany kissed | | with gold, his cheeks shadowed by a fine stubble that traces his jaw and | | bridges over full lips. His eyes, dusky colored, inhabit that liminal space | | between mischief and melancholy; forever weighing the impulse to grin | | against the gravity of something deeper. Dark curls crown his head lending | | him an unruly charm. His shoulders are broad and his frame is lean, the | | poster child of flesh-formed perfection and model athletes everywhere. | | He smells like salt, ozone. | | He is using: | | (E) a silver iPhone 16e | | (D) a blood orange mimosa in a delicate champagne flute | | an all-white, cotton undershirt, tight-fitted with a V-neck | | (E) a white pinstriped NY Yankees jersey signed by C. Bellinger | | (E) a pair of black, flashy rhinestone-studded distressed jeans | | (E) a pair of black and white Retro Air Jordan 4 with fat laces | | a Zotic, 18 karat, gold bonded micro-clustered tennis chain | |_____________________________________________________________________________|