Date: Sat, 5 Mar 2016 13:33:15 -0500
From: Xavier Stewart Belle <excessbelle@gmail.com>
Subject: J's Gym

Author's Note: This is my first submission to Nifty and I'd love to
hear what you think. You can reach me at excessbelle@gmail.com, or follow
me on tumblr at xsbelle.tumblr.com where I'll be pairing story drafts
like this one with pictures.

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Happy reading!

As part time jobs go, working at the front desk of a gym isn't bad. The
place is near campus, I can work around my classes, and the owner, J (short
for Jim, which doesn't work for obvious reasons), doesn't mind if I do my
homework. It's a cool place, small but modern, and I get a discount on
membership. When fitness companies come in to do promotions I can usually
snag gear, power bars, supplements, whatever they're giving away, and the
trainers are happy to give me advice when I use the equipment before or
after my shifts. So it's not finance, but it's a cool, relaxed gig that
helps me pay rent.

My second year there, when I was a sophomore, I learned the place wasn't
always without it's drama, though. One of the cell phone selfie guys got
caught taking pictures of a couple of the gym rats in the locker
room. Apparently the shutter sound gave him away when one of the guys bent
over. There was a fight, a smashed phone, and a couple black eyes, but
since J knew everyone involved no charges were filed. He gave the two
muscle mountains six months free and the voyeur got a year ban. Some of the
regulars thought it should have been life, but rumor had it the guy grew up
with Jim, so a year it was. I was sorry to see him go. His name was Aaron
and he always seemed happy to see me when he came in. Just a nice guy who
made a bad decision while his dick was hard. And I missed him in the
showers. He had a nice piece and he took his time soaping up.

The trouble didn't stop when Aaron left, though. J's smooth talking
couldn't keep rumors from spreading that management didn't care that gay
guys could take pictures of you in the showers without facing
charges. Membership took a nosedive. I'd come in some days and you'd think
the place was closed. Other days it looked like a women only
place. Desperate, J, the poor guy, instituted a cell phone ban. No phones
in locker room. Getting caught meant a month ban, no refunds. That
staunched the flow of regulars bleeding out the door, and then a few
started coming back. That seemed the best we could hope for.

Then the local paper caught wind of it, wrote a little culture piece with
interviews, applauded J's Gym for a "stand against the ubiquity and
invasiveness of cell phone use in public places". Membership began to tick
up again, then the place got a reputation with a certain crowd and suddenly
we had a new crop of regulars. Encouraged, J took it a step further: no
cell phones anywhere in the gym. You take your phone out and you'll be
asked to either check it at the front desk or leave. People loved it. The
place got busy again. Not worried about making payroll anymore, Jim,
surprising us all, even instituted my suggestion: check your phone
voluntarily when you arrive and get a free towel.

So that makes me, the front desk guy, phone warden and towel jockey at a
gym full of people who love to tell their friends they work out at a
no-selfie gym. I check people in, hand out towels, and if you've got a nice
smile and time to chat up the little people in the world, I'll let you know
when that important call lights up your cracked iPhone. Sometimes, when I
don't have homework, I'll help out a few of the original regulars, the ones
from before the phone ban who have blogs or a "ton" of social media
followers. I'll snap a few pictures for them in an out of the way spot,
maybe let them sneak a few of their own.

There are still slow days, though, especially around the
holidays. Christmas eve and the night before Thanksgiving are usually
dead. The college empties out and the townies start their drinking and
eating and almost no one wants to spend time on an elliptical. I usually
volunteer for those days. I get some pleasure reading in, J pays me extra,
and we usually close early anyway.

The Thanksgiving of my junior year, Eric, the last trainer to leave, did an
early walk through. He had a party to get to, the place was empty, and it
was snowing. Between the two of us we decided that no one else was coming
in.

"Just one guy heading into the showers," Eric said, rounding the corner
from the back room, "should be done soon. You ever do the lock up?"

"No," I said. "I'm just the pretty face at the front. That's you're
job. That's why you get paid the big bucks."

"Yeah, right. Well, I gotta go. Cherie's texts are all coming through with
scream-lock because I said I'd be there an hour ago." He walked to the
front doors and locked the left side. "All you have to do is lock the other
door after you hit the lights." He over handed the keys at me. "We'll skip
the alarm. I don't have time to show you how it works and I open on Friday
anyway." He winked at me. "Our little secret."

I tossed the keys on the counter in front of me. "J would kill me if he
found out I left without setting the alarm. What's in it for me?"

"Seriously? Help me out."

I shrugged.

He puffed out his chest, fired up his bro voice, and gave me double finger
guns. "Free towel next time we train. Got you covered."

I stared at him.

"God, you're such a shit." He took a few steps closer to the desk, lowered
his voice as if someone might hear him. "Stress relief package next time we
close together, alright? Now I gotta go."

I smiled, tossed him his coat from the peg beside the cell phone
rack. "Tell Cherie I said hi."

"Fuck you," he said, pulling his coat on as he walked to the door. "You
fuck this up or lose those keys and I'll string you up on the climbing
wall."

"Happy Thanksgiving."

He waved and the door closed behind him.

I sat back in my chair and smiled.

J was a great guy and we all liked him, but he didn't compensate his full
time staff trainers as well as he might, and that meant some of the guys
needed to find creative ways to supplement their income. Eric was one of
the more creative guys. A few months earlier I had caught him giving one of
his more affluent customers what he called the "Stress Relief Package." It
was, essentially, a post-workout happy ending. He claimed it motivated his
clients to work harder because the Package bought you some sort of
"relief", but just what you got was up to Eric. The options ranged from
touching and fondling to a full on fuck, all based on workout
performance–and, Eric told me later, he always rewarded hard work.

I walked in on him rewarding one guy in J's office while I was looking for
blank membership forms. Eric stood behind the desk, his arms crossed behind
his head. In front of him a naked man was bent over the desk, his face
buried in his arms. All three of us froze, Eric mid thrust, the guy choking
on a moan. Then Eric was bending over to cover himself and I backed it the
door.

I wouldn't have ratted him out, probably wouldn't even have told most of my
buddies about it, but Eric didn't take any chances. After I backed out of
the room and closed the door, Eric came right out into the hallway after
me. He got real close, started kneading my shoulder with one strong, warm
hand, and began to explain. In his rush to catch me he'd only had time to
pull on his workout shorts and his hard dick still stood at attention
between us, tenting the thin fabric and showing me the wide, round shape of
its underside. The scent of lube rose off him in waves and drops of
perspiration traced lines down his abs and soaked into the wet, matted hair
at his navel. He smelled incredible, powerful, and the look in his eyes was
earnest, searching, filled with caged panic. I didn't understand everything
he said at first, but then he made his offer in no uncertain terms.

"I see you looking," he said. He stood a little straighter. "You like
this?"

All I could do was nod. My dick was pressing against my jeans so hard it
hurt.

"Alright, you keep this between us and I'll give you the full package, full
treatment." He squeezed my shoulder. "Just say the word and you get all
this."

I thought about the man standing naked in J's office, half fucked, hole
waiting to be filled again, and realized that could be me. So I nodded
again. "Ok."

Eric clapped me on the back then cupped the side of my face with a hot,
damp hand, and smiled. After a quick glance down the hallway behind me he
hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pushed his shorts down to his
ankles. We stood there for about five seconds, Eric in his glory,
confidence returned, and me starting to feel dizzy. His dick was long and
perfectly straight, and it fit the long, lean hardness of his body. The
hair that ran in a thin line from his chest to his stomach thickened at his
navel and spread out to cover his thighs with course dark lines. He stroked
his iron hard member a few times with his right hand, then kicked his
shorts up into his left.

"That's just a preview," he said, squeezing the base of his shaft so the
head bulged huge and purple at me. "I'd say we start now, but I've got a
client and he doesn't like to share."

I just nodded, and Eric retreated back into J's office with a wink. After
the lock clicked I waited just long enough to hear a muffled moan, then
made my way back to my desk. I sat there with an invincible hard on for the
rest of my shift.

My first experience of Eric's stress relief services was great–-a quiet,
intense fuck after hours on one of the benches by the free weights–-but
it got more fun once Eric understood I had no intention of ruining him. Now
we made a game of it. I'd find some sort of flimsy leverage and threaten to
put him in a tough spot. He'd put up a token resistance, then offer me an
extra stress relief session. I'd been fucked on almost every kind of
machine in the gym, and as Eric started withholding oral and anal for after
my top training sessions, I'd started to see better gains. It had been a
good semester.

I wandered around the gym, turning off lights and squeezing the bulge
straining at the front of my jeans. When all the lights were out I sat
behind the desk and waited. I'd never jerked off alone in the gym before
and I thought maybe I'd give it a try. Maybe start by the free weights and
finish in J's office. I could never go in there without thinking of Eric
bending sweaty, eager men over the desk, and the sight of him standing in
front of me in the hallway, hard and smelling like sex as he offered to
fuck me, was still my favorite jerk off image. As soon as the last guy in
the shower left, I figured I'd revisit it.

Except the guy was taking his sweet ass time. After ten minutes my hard on
had disappeared and I started getting irritated. I checked the phone
sitting alone on the rack. I could match some phones to patrons by their
protective cases, but I didn't recognize this one. He must have come in
while I was on my last break. He could be anybody.

I waited. Another fives minutes dragged by. Maybe he was appreciating the
empty showers on a slow night, enjoying the water. Or maybe he'd fallen
asleep in the sauna. That had happened before. Or, since Eric hadn't told
him, maybe he didn't realize we were closing early and had decided to move
through an unnecessarily lengthy bathroom routine entirely inappropriate
for a public shower.

I grabbed the phone from the rack and headed toward the locker room. I
wanted him out before someone else showed up and I had to stay open all
night. Might as well give him his phone while I was in there. Efficient
that way.

I could hear the shower running as soon as I walked into the locker room
and the door clicked softly behind me. That made things tricky. I couldn't
really hand him his phone while he showered and it seemed rude, now that I
was in there, to rush him out if he hadn't even finished rinsing off. J
would be pissed if he ever found out.

I considered my options while I made my way toward the sound of running
water. Why I didn't just turn around then and wait at the desk I don't
know. Stubbornness, maybe, or just inertia. Whatever the reason, it brought
me around a line of lockers and placed me squarely in front of a perfect,
round ass shining in florescent light. I froze. Just ten feet away, a wet,
naked man stood with his back to me.

I'd seen plenty of men naked. I showered at the gym after working out and I
got probably more than my fair share of ass, but something about the sudden
appearance of that hard, toned man, his face turned up into the spray
hissing out of the shower, spiked a surge of adrenaline through my heart
and down to my dick.

I stared for a moment, admiring the curves of his ass, the thickness of his
legs. I imagined what it would feel like to put my lips on the soft, wet
skin of his shoulder, to taste him through the water.

Then he shifted beneath the spray and I panicked. Terrified he would turn
around and find me staring, I sidestepped behind the lockers and froze. I
listened for his voice, for the water to stop–-some indication he'd seen
me and intended to investigate. But the hiss of the shower continued,
punctuated by the splashing sheets of water that fell from his body and
landed on the tiles. I barely breathed. Slowly, silently, I backed my way
down the row of lockers until it felt safe to turn around and move more
quickly. I made for the door, grateful not to have been caught ogling.

I only got halfway there before I slowed to a stop. Despite the anxiety of
a close call, my dick strained hard against my jeans and I couldn't get the
sight of that body out of my mind. It was an everyman's body, broad in the
shoulders, narrow at the waist, with just a hint of hair hanging above his
ass. It was an intoxicating, magnetic exemplar of the male form and I
wanted more. I turned back before I quite knew what I was doing.

I put another row of lockers between me and the shower this time, getting
me close enough to enjoy a clear line of sight while giving myself enough
room to get out without drawing attention to myself. I waited, listening to
make sure the water was still on, then slowly peeked around the corner.

He still had his back to me, but now he was running his hands over his
body, spreading a thin white lather over his shoulders, across his chest,
down his stomach. When he bent his head to look down, as his hands reached
between his legs and slowed, I reached down between my own legs and slid my
hand into my jeans. I gripped the hard length of my shaft and squeezed. I
wondered what he had in his hands, whether he had a thick mat of hair to
run his fingers through, whether he was teasing the beginnings of a hard
on. I wished that he would turn around, hoped he wouldn't.

I tweaked the head of my dick, gave it a tug, and shifted my attention to
his ass. It was firm, round and smooth except for that thin patch of hair
at the small of his back. It flexed and bounced each time he moved, and I
wondered again what it would be like to press my lips against his back, to
warm that cool wet skin with my mouth, to work my way from his neck, across
his shoulders, down to those two mounds of hard muscle.

I squeezed my dick again, tempted to pull it out. Eric's promise of a fuck
the next time we closed had primed me, fired my imagination, and now this
sight, just a few dozen feet away, came close to pushing me over the
edge. I considered stroking off then and there, tugging and massaging my
shaft, fucking my hips forward against my hand as I watched this
unsuspecting man soap up in an open shower. I could climax in short hot
bursts, fill my trunks with warm seed, then head back to my desk and wait
for him to leave. I'd hand him his phone with fingers still slightly damp
while the come in my underwear soaked out onto my jeans, a dark stain on my
crotch beneath the desk. Or I could pull my dick out right there and stroke
to a finish while the object of my lust pushed soap up and down his legs,
as he dug a hand into his ass to massage white foam into the trough between
those perfect globes of muscle. As the water washed the suds from him I
could shoot and then go, leaving little steaks of white dripping down the
lockers, puddling on the blue tiles where men changed and stood naked
everyday. I could relive that intimate moment, that secret climax, every
time I walked into this room and stripped to wash away the sweat of a
session with Eric.

But instead of jerking off as I watched a man shower across the room, I
opted for a more extreme option. My sex addled brain reasoned this way: if
I took a picture of this scene, took a few pictures, I could save them and
relive the experience whenever I wanted. I had always wanted a picture of
Eric in the act, would have committed a felony for a chance to preserve an
image of him standing before me with those little shorts around his ankles
and his dick staring up at me, but he wouldn't allow it. Too risky, he
said. He trusted me, but he had to be careful. It took just one mistake to
unravel a life.

He wasn't wrong, I knew that, but with my dick in my hand I felt in the
most visceral depths of me that if I didn't seize this opportunity I might
regret it forever.

The only problem was that I didn't have my phone on me. I only had the
phone in my hand, and it belonged to the naked man whose image I wanted so
desperately to capture. But if his phone was unlocked–-it was, I
discovered with a thrill-–I could take a few pictures, text them to
myself, then delete both the images and the messages while I waited for him
at the front desk. He'd never know.

It was an absurd plan, the height of hormone soaked stupidity, but I did
it. With one had down the front of my pants I aimed the phone carefully and
waited for the right moment. Drunk on the possibilities, on the heat of
that illicit maneuver, I found seven moments. Too many, I knew, but my
thumb was taking orders directly from dick and in less than thirty seconds
I had a series of photos I could savor at my leisure. I tabbed open the
messaging app, typed in my number and...off they went.

I would have turned then and hurried back to my desk to erase the evidence
of my voyeurism, but a hand clamped over my mouth and an arm gripped me
around the waist. Too shocked to move, I froze. I let myself be tugged
backward away from my chosen view and into a vice-like embrace. I felt a
stubbled chin rasp across my neck.

"Fucking pervert."

Eric.

I relaxed, but only slightly. Eric's left arm had pinned mine, leaving me
unable to remove my hand from my pants, and my right arm still hung out
before us, the damning images plain to see on the screen in my hand. I was
caught. My mind went blank.

"I leave you for twenty minutes and this is the shit you get up to?" His
lips moved directly against my ear, his voice barely a whisper. "You could
have fucked us both, you know that, right? I need this fucking job."

I nodded. I tried to work my jaw, knowing I couldn't speak without drawing
attention to us but wanting to explain. Eric shook me slightly and pulled
my head back, like he was exposing my neck for a killing blow.

"Not a word."

A moment later Eric released his grip on my jaw. I expected him to push me
in the direction of the door but his hand descended to the front of my
jeans. He deftly undid the button.

Confused, I looked down to watch as him unzipped my fly. While my heart
beat faster I turned to whisper into his face.

"What are you doing?"

"You like taking risks," he said. He hooked his thumbs into my waistband
and pushed both my jeans and my underwear down to the middle of my thighs
with two strong, swift tugs. My dick sprang out into the space between me
and the locker and I could feel the fabric of Eric's training pants rasping
against my bare ass. "Let's take a risk."

I stood very still, both hands now hovering uncertainly in front of me as
Eric rested his face briefly against my back. I could hear the soft fabric
of his pants rustle, then he was standing again, pulling me back roughly
against him with both hands on my hips. I could feel his long shaft burning
in a line bring across my ass and throbbing against lower back. The
sensation melted into the more general heat of his body as he crushed us
together, an arm around my chest and a fist around the base of my dick.

"We're gonna do this hard and fast." His lips moved against the back of my
ear. His breath was hot on my skin and his stubble scrapped along my
neck. "Don't make a sound. Don't want him to hear us."

He didn't give me time to think before he gripped both of my elbows and
pushed my arms forward until I was leaning on the locker before me. With a
hand on the back of my neck he pushed me down until I bent at the
waist. With one leg he kicked the inside of my right foot and I opened my
legs as far as the jeans around my thighs would allow.

Looking down I could see my own dick staring back up at me, dripping and
bouncing to the elevated beat of my heart.

When I felt the blunt head of Eric's dick against my hole I opened my
mouth, wanting to breathe, to gasp, to moan, but managed only a short
little exhalation that preserved the silence of the locker room and the
steady hissing of the shower. I couldn't believe he would go in dry, but I
didn't move. I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes. I didn't think he
wouldn't hurt me, not on purpose, but he was angry. He pushed a little more
and my hole began to stretch. He gripped himself at the base and shook his
dick. I opened a little more. Then I felt something hot and wet land on my
ass and Eric pulled out. He spit again and used the head of his dick to
gather the wetness onto himself and smear it into my hole.

And then we were fucking. In one steady, implacable thrust he pushed
himself into me. Without waiting for me to adjust he pulled out and thrust
in again. I braced myself against the locker and willed myself to relax. He
thrust again and it was easier. By the fifth stroke my mouth hung open
again. I felt every inch of him sliding into me, filling me with his
hardness until his hips met my ass.

Eric quickly worked himself up to a steady rhythm and my feet began to slip
around on the tiles. To maintain his balance Eric gripped me by one hip and
bunched a fist in the back of my shirt. He pulled until the fabric
stretched tight across my chest and I arched my back further, pushing my
ass as close to him as I could get. I began to wonder, abstractly, as if it
were a problem for someone else entirely, if the sound of his hips slamming
into my ass might make their way to the ears of the naked man in the
shower. But there was nothing I could do about it just then. There wasn't
anything I wanted to about it. All I wanted was to get a hand on my
dick. It ached for attention, but Eric's pounding rhythm kept my hands
firmly against the locker, one palm flat against the metal, the other a
fist wrapped around a cell phone.

I hung on that way, clenching my hole periodically so I could feel every
inch and ridge of Eric's dick as it pistoned in and out of me, until Eric
paused abruptly. He leaned away to my side and I strained to hear whether
the shower was running. Had we been discovered? I'd lost track of where we
were as Eric's long dick plunged in and out of me. When he leaned back
toward me his dick slammed home. I gasped as he bent over to whisper in my
ear.

"That guy's hard," he said. "He thinks he's alone." He leaned to the side
again, stroking into me almost absently. When he leaned in again he reached
around to pump my dick. "The dude's jerking off. Unbelievable. Too bad
you're missing it." And then he was driving his dick into me again, using
long strokes that sent waves of pleasure radiating out from my ass each
time the head of his dick pushed against my prostate. For a few long
moments my world contracted and I knew nothing but the sensation of that
rod sliding in and out of my spit-lubed hole.

Then the image of that stranger jerking off just a few dozen feet away
began to invade my mind. I imagined his dick standing at attention as he
stroked in a leisurely way, tempting fate, braving the possibility that
someone might discover him. I imagined he looked in this direction every so
often, unaware that the front desk attendant was getting fucked by a
trainer just out of sight.

The combination of Eric's determined fucking and this image of a man
jerking off just a few lockers away drove me wild. I had to get a hand on
my dick.

Slowly, carefully, I bent my elbows until my forearms rested against the
lockers and my chest was almost parallel to the tiled floor. As Eric
continued to batter away, as he began to gather even more speed, I leaned
my weight on my right arm to free my left hand and reached down between my
legs. My knees almost buckled as I began to pump my fist up and down my
shaft. I felt my orgasm building deep inside my ass and I shut my eyes
against the cresting wave of it.

And then Eric slammed into me, almost pushing my face into the cold metal
of the locker. Using both hands on my hips now, he ground into me, his legs
tense, his dick buried in me to the root. He rocked us both back and forth
as I felt him throb inside of me. He was finishing, pouring himself out
into me. As I raced to catch up, his last buck pulled us both away from the
lockers then drove us forward again, slamming my elbow into the locker in
front of me.

We both froze as the sound of ringing metal echoed across the locker
room. Then Eric was gone, pulling his pants up over his hard member as he
went, leaving me gaping at both ends as I watched him go. I stood up, my
hand still between my legs, one elbow against the locker, as a warm trickle
slid down the inside of my left thigh. When the sound of the shower stopped
I went cold all over. I hurried as quickly as I could after Eric, yanking
my pants up with one hand while I used the fist still clutching the cell
phone to push through the swinging door.

By the time I got to the front desk I'd crammed the phone in a pocket and
used both hands to fasten my pants. Eric stood by the front door. He held
up the bottle of vodka he had in his left hand.

"Forgot Cherie's house warming gift." He smiled, pushing the door open with
his back. "Happy Thanksgiving!"

I sat in the silence after his departure trying his get my breathing under
control and willing the jitters to fade. I looked around. The lights were
still off, no one else had come in. I let out a long sigh.

That had been much too close. I pulled the phone out of my pocket,
desperate to delete the evidence of my voyeurism and have this night be
over.

"Hey, long time no see!"

My heart thumped and I looked up from the images on the screen to see a man
with a familiar face smiling at me as he approached, the door to the locker
room swinging quietly closed behind him. I went cold for the second time
that evening and turned the phone screen off. Force of habit put a smile on
my face.

"Hey, great to see you! I didn't know you were back."

It was Aaron, the original peeping tom himself. I hadn't known that his ban
had expired. No wonder I didn't recognize his phone.

"Yeah, last few weeks." Aaron looked around as he came up to the desk. "You
guys closing early?"

"Yeah, it's pretty dead."

"Am I the only one here? I thought I heard someone closing a locker in the
showers."

My heart hammered in my chest and I tried to keep my voice even.

"Nope, just you."

"Well, I'll get out of your hair and you can take off." He nodded at my
hand. "I think that's my phone."

If I had been smarter, I wouldn't have been going through his phone at the
desk. If I had been quicker on my feet, I would have told him it was my
phone and I'd go grab his from the back. But I didn't. Instead I just said:
"Right. Here you go." And I handed it to him. I gave him the clip board for
his signature, and I said I looked forward to seeing him again soon.

After he walked out the door I sat in the complete silence of an empty
public space and relived what the fuck had just happened. Then I took the
few personal items I kept in the desk, put them in my bag, and left,
locking the door behind me. While I sat in my car in the almost empty lot I
considered texting Eric, letting him know I'd be fired soon and that he'd
have to meet up with me to get his keys. But I didn't. I just stared at my
phone there in my lap, at the flashing light in the corner that indicated I
had unread text messages. From myself. Using another man's phone.

I put my head back on the head rest and prayed that when everything finally
shook out, it wouldn't impact my education. J, of all people, would want to
keep the incident a secret. He'd also want to have me killed.

I jumped when the phone in my hand rang. I didn't recognize the number so I
let it go, heart pounding with each vibration, until the screen went
dark. I checked the text I sent myself from Aaron's phone. Same number. Of
course. He'd want to know who it was. It rang twice more, then, I realized
with a sinking feeling, the third time it rang until it went to voice
mail. Now he knew. I was fucked.

I was only a little but surprised when the text came through.

"You know l got banned for shit like this."

I didn't respond, just stared at the words until the phone went dark again.

Then: "where are you?"

Those three words made me realize with sickening, visceral fear, just how
stupid I was. I peered out into the dark of the parking lot, trying to see
if I could see him sitting in a car somewhere nearby. No one close. I
tossed my phone into the passenger seat and turned the car on. With a surge
of panic I saw two lights turn on across the parking lot. Ignoring the seat
belt warning bells I put the car in drive and made for the exit. The car
across the lot turned in the same direction. I stepped on the gas.

It was close, but he beat me there by about three seconds, blocking the
ramp to the exit by parking his car sideways across both lanes. My
headlights shown in through his windows and I could see him looking back at
me through the glare. I picked my phone up again as he got out of the
car. I thought about calling the police, but what could I tell them without
ruining my life? He didn't look angry, just slightly damp in a jacket and
wrinkled shirt. Maybe we could settle it between us. Maybe he'd just yell
and watch me delete everything. I sat very still as he walked to stand next
to my window.

We stared at each other through the glass for a few seconds, then he tapped
on it with his knuckles. I lowered the window an inch.

"You looked scared shitless," he said.

I stared at him.

"You scared?"

I shrugged a sort of half nod.

"You did a stupid thing."

I nodded.

"You like to watch people?" He didn't wait for my answer as he reached down
to cup the front of his pants. He began to massage to bulge there. As I
watched the muscles in his forearm flex he pulled out his phone. The screen
lit his face. "I think maybe you missed the best part." He held the screen
to the window so I could see the images, those seven pictures of his ass in
different frames. "Unless you're an ass guy. You like to fuck?" He
waited. "Or you like to get fucked?"

I thought about Eric's dick sliding into me, the way he held me by the hips
and hammered into me until he came. I thought about the way he'd dripped
back out of me when he pulled out, how that line of seed had soaked into my
underwear as I hurried back to the desk, and how much more of it still
remained inside of me, keeping my loose hole wet. I looked at the hand in
front of my face, massaging a rapidly increasing bulge, and I shifted in my
seat.

Aaron smiled.

"That's what I thought," he said. "You got keys to this place, right?"
Aaron cocked his head toward the dark gym. "Let's go. I've always wanted to
fuck someone in a public shower."