They told me Australia was the lucky country. The sunburned country. My friends told me lots of things. Mostly, they said I had to go visit the man I’d just started seeing. A crazy, Aussie cowboy kinda guy. Just thinking about Bruce made my stomach ache. Could I really miss a man so much after knowing him three short weeks?

And who the hell lived in a place called Come By Chance, anyway?

Well, he did. And so did one hundred and eighty-six other people.

I’d taken the plunge, not difficult when Bruce had used some of his modeling contest winnings to purchase me a ticket. How could I not give Come By Chance a, well, chance?

Yeah, my friends told me lots of things, but as my Qantas flight veered into the home stretch for our landing in Sydney, Australia, I stared in horror at the scene from The Coca Cola Kid, an Aussie movie I was watching on my laptop. In the movie, actor Eric Roberts has landed in Sydney to handle a promotional campaign but before he can get off the plane, two men in shorts and long socks board the craft and start spraying the passengers with what looked like bug spray.

Lovely!

“Relax,” the guy beside me said. He already knew all about my trip. He was Australian himself. Damned nice guy. If Bruce were here, he’d proclaim him as, lovely as they come.

Come.

Phew. I was starting to get excited now. Yeah. I’d come for the hot sex, the sweaty, manly kisses and the too-short nights we’d slept wrapped around each other. Bruce was a hot guy and the first in my experience who was a world-class cuddler.

The guy beside me was talking.

“Sorry. Bit distracted. What did you say?” I pulled an ear bud out of my ear.

“No worries, Gary.” Craig was his name and he smiled. “I was just saying that they don’t get on the plane anymore and spray.” He gestured toward the computer screen. “They pump it through the air ventilation system now.”

What? Eww! For how long had we been ingesting bug spray?

Craig gave me his business card. I gave him mine.

He smiled. “I really meant it about you and Bruce visiting us for a meal. You said you’re staying in Sydney for a couple of days. I have a wonderful house with a view of Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair. You’ll love it.”

Who the hell was Mrs. Macquarie and why would I want to see her chair? Did he think I’d want to spy on his neighbor? Wait…was it a landmark? Maybe so. I filed this tidbit of information away. Maybe Bruce would want to see this chair. Why did things have such weird names in the land down under?

“My daughter wants to be a model,” Craig went on.

“Isn’t she five years old?”

“Yeah.” He blushed. “Tantrums and Tiaras is her favorite show.”

“Don’t you mean Toddlers and Tiaras?”

Craig grinned. “I’m always doing that. Listen, I know by their standards she’s geriatric, but it would be really cool if you could convince her she could still have a career.”

Oh, boy. His hopeful look told me he was serious. Geriatric. At the age of five! Even in Los Angeles the use-by date was twelve.

“You work in movies. You know the business. She’ll be so impressed that I know somebody from the industry in Los Angeles. And if she’s happy, then my wife will be happy. I might even get some sex out of the deal!”

“I can…try.” I felt a huge amount of pressure all of a sudden. I was a photographer’s assistant, not bloody Cecil B. de Mille, for God’s sake. Bloody. My lover’s language had already seeped into my soul.

“She’s beautiful,” he insisted and whipped out his cell phone. “Look.”

He was right. Gorgeous. Or as Bruce would say, a stunner. Fuck, I missed him.

I more or less promised Craig we’d visit. He’d already told me Come By Chance was a one-horse town. Bruce had said it was a two-horse town. I liked the idea of hanging with some city folks.

“We’ll call you tonight.” I started packing up my things as the flight began its final descent. But first, Bruce and I had some catching up to do. I thought of his big, beautiful cock, or as he called it, dick. I’d been the first man he’d ever been with. I wanted to make sure things were so hot between us he’d never even think about being with another guy.

“G’day,” our captain said as the tires hit the tarmac. “Welcome to Australia!”

The final slowdown was a bit of a thrill, my adrenaline already careening. We all burst into applause. It seemed like forever until we taxied to our gate. After I’d gathered my things, I shuffled with the rest of the passengers into the tunnel that spat us into the terminal, and the first thing I was aware of was light. Bright, blinding light. The sun shone differently here, even in the terminal.

I’d brought only a cabin-size bag even though I was staying for two weeks. Bruce had bought me an expensive, open-ended ticket which I could change, but to me, two weeks without work was a good start. I couldn’t vacation forever, even if I wanted to.

After going through customs and immigration which took a good half hour, I tried not to feel frustrated. I wanted to see my man!

Once the immigration guy stamped my passport after asking me a host of deeply personal questions except for what color underpants I was wearing, I ran into the terminal. I looked for him.