Andy Stevenson vs. The Lord of the Loins (21 page)

Again I followed, and soon discovered that this doorway led to a locker room. There was a doorway on the opposite side of the room that probably led to the main area of the place and yet another door on one of the other walls.

"Is this a gym or something?” I asked.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that ... a lot of gay men come here to work out.” Tristan turned and faced me. “This is one of those times I told you about in the car. Just do what I say and ask questions later.” I nodded that I understood. “Take all your clothes off, put them in one of the lockers and put the towel around you."

I opened my mouth to tell him just where he could stick his towel and mine, too, but he narrowed his eyes and I realized I was doing exactly what I told him I wouldn't do.

"Okay.” I remained, reluctantly, but quickly and methodically stripped down to my bare essentials. He already knew what I looked like, but I made sure not to show him any more than I had to before wrapping the towel around me. “So, people work out just in one of these?"

He seemed annoyed that I was asking questions again, so I smiled and shrugged it off.

"I just thought they'd be a little uneasy about lifting on a bench and someone staring up their towel."

"Not this kind of working out."

"Oh.” So, it was one of those flakey gyms. Not only were they into the whole health thing, but they also believed in working out naturally to boot.

I put my keys, license and the few dollars I'd brought with me deep inside one of my shoes then stacked all my clothes neatly on top. Thank God, I didn't bring an entire wallet or more money, since Tristan hadn't bothered to tell me to bring a lock. He could have at least mentioned that to me.

"So, where is everybody?"

"They're spread out. This isn't one big gym like you're used to.” Tristan was wrapping his towel around his waist, though it was hung far lower than I would have been comfortable with. A little too much was suggested, but then, that was his personality. “There are a number of rooms here, and each generally has something unique going on. The guys here either work out or socialize or whatever, so I'd suggest that you roam around first and check things out. I'll catch up with you when you've had a chance to see what's going on."

I took this as my cue to start exploring. He said that there were a number of rooms here, so I had no real way of knowing just how large the building really was. I'd never heard of a place like this before, and for such an openminded establishment to be operating in West Michigan struck me as a little ironic.

I noticed a couple of dispensing machines on my way out of the locker room and figured it had to be health bars or fruit juices or something like that, only they were condoms: ribbed, lubricated, non-lubricated, colored and something called Titan. Safe sports? Risk-free recreation? Disease-free drills? Weird.

There was a long hall on the opposite side of the room from where we came in, and I went that way. Several doors lined either side all the way down, maybe ten or twelve in total. A few of them were wide open and had, from what I could see in the dim lighting, people in them while the others were closed. If I was going to lift weights or use a ski machine or anything like that, I'd want to see what I was doing so I didn't hurt myself.

Another room at the end of the hall turned out to be far better lit and also had gym equipment in it. The place must not bring in a lot of money because this stuff wasn't exactly state-of-the-art.

There were two guys standing around eyeing a weight bench that nobody was currently using. They stared at me when I walked in, and I guessed they were in their early thirties, a crowd I didn't expect someone like Tristan to run with. I mean, did men over the age of thirty still even have sex? They were pretty buff, though, and downright handsome in that rugged sort of way, so maybe that appealed to Tristan's shallow side.

"Are you our trainer for the night?” one of them asked me with a slight smile while the other started scratching underneath his towel. Somebody apparently hadn't showered today.

"No, I'm just here with a friend from school.” I returned the smile. “Actually, I shouldn't call him a friend because he's not exactly the type of person I'd want as a friend. He's a ho, really, so ... not so much of a friend. And definitely not someone you'd ever want to compromise with. Offer him an inch, and he'll try to give you six and a half. Still, he's trying to be nice by bringing me here to work it ... well, work out.” I eyed the bench, half-hoping they'd get the idea I wanted to use it and would therefore step away. After all, if they weren't going to do a rep, there was no reason I couldn't.

"Do you like it on a weight bench?” the other one asked.

"I'm not exactly used to it, but it's certainly better than laying around on my back all day when I'm not in class.” I hated to admit that I was lazy. “A guy on my floor gave me a hell of a workout a month or so ago."

"Really?” Now they were both scratching. Was this place sanitary? Did somebody forget to add bleach when they did the laundry?

"Oh, yeah. I walked right up to him and demanded that he bring on the pain. I wanted it as hard as he could make it and as long as he could give it, which was hopefully also as long as I could take it. I hate not being able to finish."

"Did you?"

These guys had a rather noticeable problem now. Their scratching had left them with a bit of a tent pole. Wasn't that only supposed to happen in the showers, and shouldn't they be trying to hide it?

"Damn right, I did,” I continued, and tried to ignore their ... distractions. “I could barely walk for three days, but I showed him a thing or two."

"How would you like to show us?” Both of them removed their towels, and one stood in front of the bench while the other stood at the rear.

"Oh, hell, no.” Sure, they were eye-candy, but I had a boyfriend, and this had to be against the rules here. “I mean, you're both really thick...” Thick? “Well, thick like a prick ... brick ... as in built like a dick shithouse. A prick shithouse.” Here I went again. “Built like a brick shithouse. What I'm trying to say is that you have muscles and they look hard as a cock ... rock.” Just ... shut ... up. “Aw, fuck me!” I was exasperated then saw them move towards me. “That sounded like an invitation, didn't it? I mean ... I have to go..."

I ducked back out of the room as quickly as I could and into the first open door I could find. Maybe they wouldn't come looking for me. It could happen! I shut the door, turned around and tried my best to figure out what was going on in this room. There seemed to be a small group of people enjoying a game of Twister, but it was being played on a large tarp, looked a lot more oily and lubricated than I remembered and nobody appeared to have the spinner. Also, nobody seemed to be wearing their towels.

Swell. Another room I shouldn't be in. Heading back out the way I'd just come in and risking running into the two workout juggernauts didn't appeal to me. Fortunately, there was a door on the opposite side of the room that might lead to another area I'd not explored yet. That seemed promising. I took two steps forward, hit a slick area on the tarp and promptly fell flat on my back.

"Ummm ... ouch!” At least there was some decent padding underneath me, otherwise I'd have ended up with a concussion. Of all the stupidest things to have happen—at least nobody knew me.

"Andy?"

"Yeah?” I recognized the voice, only I couldn't see who it was. Truth be told, I didn't even want to move, and when I did finally look over, there were too many bodies to tell them apart. A hand motioned to me from the bottom of the pile, and I crawled over to see who it was.

"Aydin? What are you doing here?"

"Remember that day at the library?” I nodded that I did. “Tristan followed me to my next class and said he always wanted to sample some Turkish delight."

"Well, two things. I can't believe you fell for that line, and I can't believe you're gay!” I was dumbfounded. It was one thing to discover my kind was in California, but we were international to boot? That was a little hard to swallow.

"You can't believe I'm gay?” Aydin sounded a bit surprised himself then sighed in pleasure as someone shifted ... something on top of him. “I can't believe
you're
gay! You're always so proper, prudish and anal about things that I thought you were just another straight breeder."

"Because that's flattering.” A proper, prudish, anal, straight breeder? I don't think I've ever been described quite that way before. “I'm going to get out of here now before you charm the towel off of me."

"I'd love to charm that towel off you.” He gave a loud moan as somebody else shifted. Apparently, air wasn't the only thing moving in and out of him.

"I'll catch you a bit later when you aren't so ... full.” I hurried away and decided to see if I could find someplace to be alone. Aydin was cute, but he obviously couldn't see past the proper, prudish and anal portrait I was apparently perpetuating.

I exited that door into another hallway and heard what must be a television in a room at the far end. If nothing else, it sounded safe.

It turned out to be two televisions, one on either side of the room. However, what had sounded like a sports program from out in the hall...

Well, there was definitely some scoring going on, but the players weren't recognizing the rule about staying above the waist. In fact, they were focusing on it.

What to do? There were several chairs on either side of the room facing the televisions and then some padded benches along the sides. I chose a bench, sat down and rested my head in my hands. It was all too apparent now that Tristan had no intention of making good on yet one more promise. Gee, what was my first clue? Here I thought I'd figured everything out in my short existence only to be trumped again by a tramp! Thank God I was all by myself for the moment to think this through.

"Someone slip you a Mickey?"

"As in Mouse or the song by Toni Basil?” I looked up and saw a man staring at me, concern clearly readable on his bearded face. He was about fifty years old, maybe, a bit out of shape but not badly, and wearing the same kind of towel I was.

"I'm familiar with the mouse...” He managed a weak smile. “...but I'm afraid I don't get the Toni Basil reference."

"Sorry. It's a song from my early teens."

"Oh.” He paused for a moment. “So, it's recent?” Cute. “Someone get a little rough with you?” He was still concerned.

"No, nothing like that.” Did I look like somebody who let some nameless, faceless guy have his rough way with me? Thank you, no. They had names. “I'm just piecing some things together in my mind."

"That happens here from time to time. This can be a place of intense personal honesty. I'm Gregory."

"Hey, Jonathan!” someone passing by greeted him.

"Jonathan.” He turned a deep crimson at having just been caught in his little faux pas but extended his hand nonetheless. “I'm Jonathan."

"Andy.” I did the damn shaking hands thing.

"So, Andy.” Jonathan sat down next to me. “What deep thoughts are we pondering?"

"I've have this theory that Frank Sinatra is actually a pioneer responsible for rap music.” I had his attention. “It's the way he spoke instead of really singing his songs. Give the man a fresh beat, throw some lyrics in about how he grew up in poverty on the streets looking for respect and some bitches while avoiding the cops and you've got Vanilla Blue Eyes."

"You're a writer, huh?” he asked, and I nodded. “So, do you want to tell me what's really on your mind?"

"Okay, Jon..."

"Hey, Toby!” Someone else walked by and gave Jonathan/Toby a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"...Toby. Here goes. I finally came to terms with my sexuality nine months ago, and the first guy I'm attracted to back at school turns out to have bent more people over than the IRS. Of course, I don't know this or bother to ask before I let him treat my body like a cheap snack food."

"Cheetos?"

"Thank you! Anyway, I tell him that I don't want to sleep with him again, so he starts stalking me. After a couple months of that and getting nowhere, he offers me a truce and asks me to come with him tonight to some sort of party where I can learn more about gay culture. This isn't exactly what I had in mind, though. Tristan has gone too far this—"

"Sorry.” Toby cut me off. “I don't mean to interrupt, but you know Tristan?” He looked as if it all suddenly made sense. “I'm surprised you'd hang around someone with a reputation like his."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that,” I growled. “After figuring that nothing good will ever come of my being gay, I end up meeting someone looking for the same things I am. He's who I should be with tonight. Instead, Tristan picks me up, brings me here, tells me to strip, put on a towel and be open-minded. Yeah, right. I heard ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ on the radio when I was changing. People work out, sleep and shower in these places? What is this? Bette, bath and beyond?"

"You sound disappointed."

"I think I'm just too trusting in life, Toby."

"Good evening, Wesley.” Another person passed by and greeted ... what's-his-face.

"I don't get this place.” There were quite a few things I didn't get at the moment, starting with his name. “Guys paying to go somewhere to have indiscriminate sex with each other?” I shrugged my shoulders. “What is that? What does someone get out of screwing around with someone whose real name you may not know, may never know and who you may never see outside these walls again, and if you do, can't or won't acknowledge you?"

"Well, I won't debate the issues of morality because I doubt they would end in this lifetime, but I can share a few things with you that I have learned.” He shifted in his seat, getting more comfortable, since it was obvious he was going to be here a while. “A lot of people have problems with places like this, but what they don't understand is that it's dangerous out there for gay men and women, especially if they're already involved in heterosexual relationships.

"Some of us are still trying to figure out where we stand, and a place like this allows us to explore our sexuality safely. There are rules here, and if they aren't followed, the rule breakers won't be allowed to come back."