“Hey, Kurt! I've got the mail!” Rachel announces, hurrying back through the hastily shut loft door after having left just half-a-minute before.

“I thought you were on your way to the diner,” Kurt remarks, walking in from his bedroom, where he'd been busy putting the finishing touches on an assignment for Isabelle. “You don't want to be late. You know Gunther's going to have a fit…”

“I know, I know,” Rachel argues in a rush, “but the mailman came early, and I didn't want Mrs. Pirelli from downstairs trying to steal it again. I'm waiting for my replacement VISA card.” She hands Kurt the bulk of the mail, but keeps a magazine-sized manila envelope addressed to her. She weighs it in her hand, then opens it out of curiosity.

Kurt flips through the rest of the letters, not watching her at all, but something glossy inside the large envelope catches his eye, and he glances up right as she pulls it out.

“Oh…my,” Rachel comments, snickering at the picture on the front cover - a group photo of The Men of McKinley (as the title across the bottom declares). She flips it over, back to front, then starts thumbing through the pictures of half-dressed high school boys on its pages.

“Rachel” – Kurt leans closer to get a better look – “what the…what the heck is that!?”

“Sam sent it to me. Here” – A second calendar slides out from behind the first – “it looks like he sent one for you, too.”

Kurt opens it a few months in and flips through the pages quickly, trying not to pay too close attention. “But…but why would a high school need to put out a calendar filled with pictures of naked boys?”

Rachel finds a letter stuck inside her calendar and reads it to herself.

“It seems the New Directions are selling them to raise money for a bus to Regionals,” she explains.

“They needed to raise money, and this is what Mr. Schue came up with?”

“Sam says it was Tina's idea.”

“Figures” – Kurt rolls his eyes.

“I don't know why you're so upset about it. I mean, aren't most of these guys eighteen?”

“Semantics,” Kurt huffs. “They're still in high school.”

“And it's not like they're completely undressed. Look at Artie. Doesn't he make an adorable pilgrim?” Rachel reaches the end, lingering on the last picture, grinning mischievously. “I mean, have you looked at all the pictures? Because you might want to take a peek at January…or December.”

“I've seen what I need to see,” Kurt says, “but apparently I'm not studying them as closely as you are!”

“You might want to take another look,” Rachel suggests, biting back a giggle.

Kurt sighs dramatically, defiantly starting in the middle and looking one more time at the pictures of these boys through squinted eyelids and a half-turned head, not entirely okay with seeing a picture of Noah Puckerman's younger brother wearing nothing but a pumpkin covering his privates.

“I still don't approve,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “Say what you want, it's downright indec---“ Kurt stops at October and goes back to the beginning, catching a month he hadn't seen – January, and it's picture of shirtless Blaine Anderson, holding a magnum of champagne over his crotch, in the tightest black pants Kurt thinks he's ever seen him in. Literally. They always used to joke about how snuggly the majority of his jeans hugged his legs…and his ass. But these black slacks, they were practically painted on.

They looked like the kind of pants Chippendales strippers wore. In fact, that's exactly how Blaine looked, like a Chippendales stripper, which made Kurt imagine Blaine stripping, peeling those pants down his legs and then…oh God…

“You were saying,” Rachel says, smirking at her friend, wondering if she should go get a dish towel to mop up the drool.

“I was…I was saying that this is indecent,” Kurt finishes, with no more passion in his argument, utterly distracted by the picture on the page. “It's…uh…it's an unnecessary exploitation of these young men.”

“A-ha,” Rachel says, watching Kurt dazedly wander away. “If it's so indecent, where are you taking yours?”

“Uh…nowhere,” Kurt says. He opens it to December and whimpers, stuttering a step. Then he starts up again, heading straight to his room. “I just…I wanted to…you know…and I'm…don't you have somewhere else to be!?”