Bonita firefighters calendar is smokin' hot

Let me say this: I do not fluster easily. But, as I sat across from Andy Riggenbach, Mr. September in the Bonita Springs Firefighters 2008 calendar, I wondered if I hadn't found the kryptonite to my dating nerves of steel.

To be fair, it wasn't a date. Andy agreed to meet me as part of a promotional push for the calendar, whose proceeds benefit local charities in Southwest Florida. I had a series of interview questions planned out, ranging from bawdy to personal, and beginning with, "Would you be more comfortable doing this interview with your shirt off?"

When I met him at the interview spot, however, all attempts at professional decorum - on my part, anyway - fell by the wayside. I managed to make it through the usual civilities (shaking hands, a pleasant how-do-you-do?), but lost my footing when he asked if I had seen the calendar yet. I smiled sheepishly and told him, no, I didn't have a copy.

"Not a problem," he said. "I brought one for you."

He pulled the calendar from its cellophane wrapper, massive biceps flexing, and slid it across the table. I continued, asking about Andy's background and favorite things to do in Fort Myers, but, as I began to flip through the pages, my voice trailed off and I suddenly forgot my line of questioning.

Twelve months of blazing, half-naked firefighters. Glistening pecs. Rock-hard abs. Pants slung so low you could see the stubble where they had trimmed their . . .

"Is this . . ." I struggled valiantly to recover where we had left off, before Misters March and April had derailed my train of thought. "Is this actual sweat? Or did they oil you guys up for the shoot?"

Andy seemed to think it over, nonplussed. "I think it's actual sweat."

"Hmmm . . ." I nodded sagely, writing in my notebook as if this were crucial information.

I flipped through May and June, saying, "That's really interesting how you put a fire safety tip on each page," but thinking, "These guys are hot. Smokin' hot."

I reached September, where Andy himself was posed in all his shirtless, glistening glory. His green eyes stared out from the page and a hint of a smile traced the edges of his mouth. On the calendar, Labor Day and Rosh Hashanah were both marked, and the top of the page proclaimed, "Have two exits from every room in case of fire."

Calendars are $14 and available at www.firemenscalendar.com. Proceeds benefiting Southwest Florida charities.

"Do you want me to sign it for you?" Andy asked.

I tore my eyes away from the rivulets running down his chest in the photograph (sweat? oil?). "I'm sorry . . . Sign it?"

"Yeah," he said, pulling a black marker out of his pocket.

I smiled my assent and watched as he scrawled a message in the lower corner, careful not to obstruct the view of his perfect abs. He told me where I could buy more calendars - www.firemenscalendar. com - and said to check the website for the next public signing dates.

I thanked him again for the interview and made my way out to the parking lot. Sitting in the driver's seat of my car, my blood still racing furiously from the last half hour, I reviewed the scribbled notes in my journal. If I took away the details about the calendar itself ($14, proceeds benefit charities) and the technical elements of the photo shoot (props vs. no props, choice of poses), this is all I had written down: Andy Riggenbach, 22 yearold Estero grad, favorite food - lasagna.

I flipped through the calendar again. I stopped on Andy's month and read through his message. "Hope you enjoy September," it said.

"All 30 days," I thought.

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