I'm finally caught up with Dexter after having been traveling on and off for the past couple of weekends, and I'm finally not so bitter about the selfish dearth of skin that has been so characteristic of the series. To the contrary, Michael C. Hall has been shirtless quite a bit recently. This simply must continue.
Two weeks ago, this season's big baddie (and tasty treat, himself) played by Johnny Lee Miller couldn't help but show some love in appreciation of Dexter's hot bod in the locker room. I'm not entirely sure what Johnny's character was doing huddled up in his locker as Dexter was prancing around in his boxers, but as for me, I would have sat myself down on that bench and stared adoringly at Michael C. Hall's ass.
And speaking of Michael C. Hall's notable ass, we saw yet ANOTHER sex scene last night with Dexter's ass coyly hidden from view. That said, superherofan captured a tantalizing tease of Michael's glorious crack, as his trousers slid down just as he was climbing on top of Julia Stiles. I know that her character is supposed to be completely sympathetic at this point, but I just can't help hating her out of jealousy. I'm not proud of it.
On the other hand, I am aroused by the homage to bondage play between her character and Dexter's, moments before their post-homicidal coitus. I've had that very fantasy, of tying Michael C. Hall's hands behind his back helplessly as I explore his body. Unlike Julia's character, though, I'm not a PTSD-wracked, trauma-cracked, on the path to self-destruction empty jar of marbles that she is. I'd accept a homicidal sociopath for who he is any day, as long as he had Michael C. Hall's ass. And I come with a lot less baggage (well... less, definitely).