The next morning when the alarm went off, we both got up and got ready for another day on the road toward Santiago. I had already been up for hours. In fact, I had never really fallen asleep.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked in the morning, just to make some conversation between us.

"Hell no," he said. He seemed a bit annoyed. I wondered why he was annoyed. Was he annoyed because he was sexually frustrated or because I had tossed and turned all night and kept him awake?

Once I was ready to go, I noticed that there was a sky-light in the room. The ceiling slanted down like an attic room. I found that if I stood on my bed, I could reach up and open the window. I poked my head out the window and I was suddenly peering out from the red-tiled roof of the little, old hotel. The tiles were so old that they were actually growing moss and tiny green, wiry plants. The air was thick with a cool, moist fog that gave the rural area a surreal quality. It was like being transported to a medieval Spanish village. The foliage was a rich, dark green, wet with the morning dew. There was a flock of sheep grazing off in the distance and a few old farm houses. We were in a valley surrounded by rolling hills. It was one of the most beautiful visions I had ever seen in my life. I wanted to take a picture of it, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to capture the true magnitude of its beauty, not to mention the fresh, earthy smell or the coolness of the air. I decided that it was better to spend my last few minutes there trying to imprint the image into my mind, hopefully to last me for the rest of my life.

"What's it like out there?" Joe asked.

"You can come up here and see for yourself." I invited him to stand on the bed with me and stick his head out the window to enjoy the view for himself.

"That's incredible," he said as he gazed upon the land.

I looked at him and thought, he is incredible. He had suddenly become a gorgeous, sculpted work of male flesh and muscle and coursing hormones....