Chapter 1

It was Saturday night at the bathhouse. Just after nine. I strutted into the locker room, stretching my long arms behind my back to ease the soreness from my workout. I'd just finished an aggressive round of arm curls in the little on-site gym.

Nobody else used the gym. Guys liked to joke that it was haunted. I'll admit, it did have a creepy vibe. There was just one flickering fluorescent bulb that lit up four mirrored walls. The main attraction was a weight bench in the center of the room, and in a shadowy corner stood a rickety elliptical. Sometimes I braved it if I was feeling particularly ambitious. The set-up wasn't much to work with, but it did serve two important purposes:

One, it got my blood flowing. I always felt invigorated after a workout. And two—this is the part that really mattered—it got me all sweaty, which allowed me to make a big production of peeling off my clothes.

I opened the candy red door to my locker and put my shoes and socks inside. Eyes were already on me. I could feel them waiting for my next move. Off came my ribbed white athletic shirt, so sticky and wet that it clung to my skin as I lifted it over my head. I paused for dramatic effect, showing off the cave of my armpits. Now I really had their attention, but I played it cool. Innocent. Just a guy getting undressed. Nothing to see here.

Next came my shorts. I slid them down, feeling the slippery black polyester fabric drag against the blond curls of my legs. I bent over just enough to spread open and give my admirers a peek. Now we were down to the jockstrap. White cotton, classic woven pouch, with a three-inch thick waistband. It was a style that conjured nostalgic locker room memories for the Daddy-types.

"Looking good, Ty," a voice said from behind me. First catch of the day.

I turned around to find a perky young guy with pastel colored hair. He wore only a white towel, wrapped around his thin waist.

"Oh, thanks," I said, feigning modesty.

"I saw the new yoga video you posted today. It was so hot. I loved the way you looked in that downward facing dog position."

"I appreciate that. Have you been practicing along with me?"

He looked away. "Nah, I probably should. I just like to watch." He folded his arms but met my gaze again. "So, uh, congrats on hitting a hundred-thousand subscribers."

"Thanks. Yeah, it's been amazing to see my channel grow. I'm trying to mix it up more. A little cardio here, resistance training there. Something for everyone."

"You make it look so easy." He looked me up and down, then his eyes settled on the bulge of my jock.

"Well, thanks for being a fan." I smiled and stood proudly, shifting my weight to one hip, letting him take all of me in. When I'd had enough, I said, "I think I'm gonna go hit the showers."

The young guy's eyes met mine again and his cheeks flushed red. "Oh, right. Okay. It was good talking to you, Ty."

"You too. Have a good evening."

He wandered off, giving me one last shy smile before he disappeared. He was nice enough but too young. Plus, I never settled on the first man I talked to.

It used to creep me out that guys knew my name and who I was as soon as they saw me, but I'd grown to love the attention. It was part of my routine now.

I leaned forward to pull down my jockstrap, feeling relief as the fabric peeled away from my sweaty nut sack.

"Goddamn, that must smell delicious," a low baritone voice said from the locker next to me.

I closed my locker door to find a guy who looked like he might be in his early sixties, with brassy red hair cut in a military burr style, a tan-colored bowling shirt, and olive-colored slacks.

I offered him my jockstrap. "Here, take it as a souvenir."

"Really?"

"Of course. Enjoy it."

"Thanks, Ty." He collected his gift and wiped it along his nose, inhaling the scent of my body. "Even better than I imagined," he confirmed with a satisfied moan.

I wrapped a fresh towel around my waist and headed to the showers. My nostrils burned from the stench of industrial strength bleach wafting in the air. Bathhouses always smell like a potpourri of bleach, cum, sweat, and asscrack. It's an aroma that both revolts and arouses. You get used to it, but it lingers in the back of your throat long after you've gone home.

The place wasn't too busy yet. Things usually didn't get rowdy until after ten, when men started pouring in from the nearby bar, loaded with liquid courage. I'd been a regular at the bathhouse for a few years, so I knew the routine.

From September through May, it was mostly the same crowd, week after week, although things did get busier during the holidays and spring break. But now that it was June, there would probably be some tasty new prospects: college students on break, barely legal twinks getting their first taste of freedom, tourists who were just in town for the weekend. I loved the unpredictability of summertime.

The shower area was your basic open corridor design with a row of shower heads on each side. There were no partitions for privacy. The bathhouse was not a place for modesty. Thankfully the toilets on the other end of the room did have doors so at least patrons could do a discreet finger check without an audience.

Each shower station had a pump dispenser with body wash. Glossy black tiles lined the floor and walls and the knobs were metallic red.

I'd been to bathhouses in other cities too, and the palette always seemed to be black and red. Not my favorite colors, but I knew black hid stains and red was supposed to quicken the pulse. If a room full of naked men didn't do it for you, maybe the bright red accents would get you going.

I hung my towel on a hook and settled under the flow of water from the shower head. I loved getting clean before I got dirty. As the water cascaded over me, I ran my fingers through my golden brown hair, slicking it back, then traced the stubble on my jawline. Taking in the smorgasbord of prospects around me, I wondered who I'd end up with that night.

Short, tall, thick, thin, and all types in between. The bathhouse had something for everyone, and I'd sampled almost everything on the menu. My moods and interests changed with the moon, evolved with the seasons.

Just as I was rinsing the soap off myself, I spotted trouble walking into the room. His dark amber eyes met mine and a Hollywood smile filled his face. He breezed up to the station next to me, took off his towel, and pulled me into a full-body hug. Our cocks pressed together.

I nuzzled his neck, taking in the woodsy sweet scent of his cologne. Mr. Burberry, if I wasn't mistaken. "Hey, Xavier. How are you?"

"Baby, I'm good. Real good." He hardened against me, preparing for a sword fight.

I pulled away, not wanting to get anything started, but the temptation was intense. His umber skin glowed under the low lights. I tried not to look down. "I haven't seen you in a while." It's the only thing I could think to say.

"Yeah, I spent the last year studying abroad." He licked his plump lips and eye-fucked the hell out of me. I could already feel him inside me just from his stare. "I'm going back this fall, but I'll be here for the summer. You got plans for your birthday?"

I was impressed he remembered. I would be turning twenty-five in a few weeks. Twenty-five, for the second time. It's a good age, I'd decided. Not too young, not too old. "Just going out with a few friends. I'll probably end up here, you know."

He laughed. "I know. I wouldn't mind giving you another birthday spanking."

I put my hand on his chest to force distance. "Sorry, you know my rule." He flexed his muscles against my touch.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, "you never hook up with the same guy more than twice."

"And we already had our second time last August, when we celebrated your birthday."

"I'll never forget that night." He brushed a wet curl out of my face. "Maybe you could start a new rule. After a year, the counter starts over."

I didn't like the way he was looking at me. It felt too intimate, and I was already exposed, standing there naked before him.

This was why I had the rule about not hooking up more than twice; to avoid attachment. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend, and the bathhouse was no place to get hung up on a guy.

"Okay, okay." I was grinning as I pulled away, trying not to act too serious. "I'll take your suggestion into consideration."

His face lit up.

"But not tonight," I said.

And his smile dropped.

"Why not? You're here, I'm here. We're vibing, the feeling's right." He wrapped his palm around my cock and squeezed.

I batted him away. "Enough of that."

"Come on, Ty."

"Nope, sorry." I grabbed my towel and dried off. "You're old news, baby. I'm looking for some fresh meat."

He jerked back, holding his hand across his heart as if he'd been shot.

"See ya around, Xavier." I kissed him on the cheek and looked down, allowing myself one peek at the goods before I rushed off. A treasure trail of tight black coils led from his belly button down to paradise.

The hallway that connected to the steam room was lined with lacquered red doors on both sides, which opened to shoebox-sized rooms guys could rent by the hour or by the night. The only light in the hall was a thin strip of neon red that bordered the slate-colored walls. The industrial design of the bathhouse became progressively darker as you made your way toward the rear of the building, where most of the action took place.

There was a symphony of moans and groans as I strolled through the echo chamber. All the blood rushed to my dick. It was electrifying to be surrounded by sex.

I migrated into the steam room, feeling the warm, wet air envelop my body, loosening my tense muscles. Two tiers of slatted wood benches formed a circle of stadium-style seating. I settled into a spot on the top row, just inside the doorway, between my friends Rick and Noah. It was our favorite spot to check out prospects as they entered the room.

"How's it going, boys?" I leaned in to greet each of them with a kiss on the cheek. Noah dove forward and slipped me the tongue. That fucker. He was always pulling tricks. I pinched his nipple hard. He yelped, then laughed.

My friendship with Rick and Noah was strictly platonic. We started coming to the bathhouse around the same time when we were new to the scene. They were both young like I was, and both were getting out of serious relationships—again, like I was.

The three of us hit it off and I was attracted to both of them. Rick had a smooth, twinkish look about him; the poor guy couldn't grow facial hair if his life depended on it. Noah had tight, lean muscles, and colorful tattoos that covered his arms.

We tried to arrange a threesome together, but it ended up being an embarrassing disaster for all of us.

On that fateful night, Noah was too nervous to get hard, and Rick had a sensitive stomach. Let's just say Rick wasn't quite as prepared as he thought he was.

The mood was shot and I was left with a painful case of blue balls. We became the best of friends after that and supported each other as we navigated the awkward politics of the bathhouse.

"Hey, have you seen the new guy?" Rick whispered, nodding toward the back of the steam room.

I searched through the fog for an unfamiliar face. It seemed I knew everyone in there, either through personal experience or at least seeing them around. Finally, my eyes landed on the prize, taking in the stranger's silhouette.

He was an ox of a man with a salt and pepper beard, and a dense crown of ebony hair that faded into tightly tapered and buzzed sides. His eyes were shut, his head rested against the tiled wall. I admired his body, thick but solid.

"Fuuuck me," I murmured.

Rick nodded. "I knew you'd want to check him out. We spotted him earlier in the shower. Dick like a brick."

"Well, who is he?"

Noah shrugged. "They just call him 'Bear.' A couple of guys were talking about him. Apparently, he's got, like, magic powers. He just looks at you and knows exactly what you need. One guy said sex with him was transcending." He emphasized the last word with air quotes.

"Transcending?" I tried it on for size.

Bear's eyelids rose up, revealing two smoldering coals. His stare fixated on me.

Time to pounce. I puffed up my chest, rolled back my shoulders, and glided over to introduce myself. Bear was a mystery I had to solve.

"Hey there," I said with a boyish smile, "I'm Ty."

Bear closed his eyes again and settled against the wall.

What the fuck?

I sat down next to him, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. "I said I'm Ty."

"I heard you, Ty." The words rolled from his lips like a raspy growl.

I didn't understand why he was being so unfriendly. Everybody liked me.

"What's your name?" I asked.

He shrugged his meaty shoulders. "You can call me Bear."

Dark curls blanketed his belly and pecs, a swath that went up to his collarbone. I took a little walk with my fingers, all the way up his chest, and caressed his beard. It was softer than I'd expected. "Well, hi, Bear. I've heard you have magic powers."

He was quiet for a moment, then he looked at me and a wry smile spread across his lips. Finally, he seemed to be warming up.

"I don't know about magic powers," he said, "but I do know a trick."

I leaned closer and whispered into his ear, "What's that?"

"I can disappear." He stood up and disappeared from the room without giving me another glance.

Slack-jawed and ego-bruised, I turned to Noah and Rick. It happened so fast, I wasn't even sure it was real, but their faces confirmed it. I returned to my comrades, crossed my arms and collapsed onto the bench. "Can you believe that shit?"

"Cold as ice," Rick said.

"Maybe you're just not his type," Noah offered.

"I'm everybody's type." I chewed my fingernail, replaying the whole scene in my head. All I did was walk over and introduce myself. Bear didn't even give me a chance.

I knew it was stupid to care, and petty to get worked up about it, but nobody had ever rejected me like that. I wanted to find out why.

Determined to get an answer, I turned to Rick and Noah and said, "Wish me luck, guys. I'm going bear hunting."