Date: Fri, 7 Mar 2008 07:39:17 -0800 (PST)
From: Matt Wess <cow91387@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Color Red: Part Four

        I follow August out of the bathroom.  The feeling of anxiety
reaches the pits of my stomach, mixed with embarrassment that August, on
the second night of knowing me, discovers that I am out and about searching
to watch/hear humans go about their lustful nature in the bedroom.  He says
it's natural for any one and every one who stays here, but I still consider
telling August to forget it as we descend the staircase - the smell of
urine once again reaching my nostrils.
        We pass our floor - the third floor - and proceed immediately down
to the second floor - our bare feet slapping against the cool concrete
stairs.  As we reach the hallway I, once again, adjust the grip my briefs
have around my buttocks - and even though I cannot see August's face, I
sense that he is rolling his eyes at the sound of the fabric snapping
against my skin.
        "So my assumption is correct - they don't fit you properly?" he
glances over his shoulder, smirking slightly.
        I for some reason do not want to give August the full satisfaction
of knowing that he is right, so I do not respond and I resist any more
attempts to adjust my briefs.  Similar to Lucinda I notice that August has
a need to always be right - or if not always, damn close to it.
        I continue to act the same way I have always been acting tonight
while lurking about: stealthy, quiet, and rather paranoid.  I feel the need
not to attract attention.  Something August apparently does not share in
common with me.
        He is strolling down the hallway - as if it is early in the
afternoon - passing closed bedroom doors - whistling an unrecognizable
tune, leading me to the very end of the hall where a door stands partially
ajar.
        August strolls up to this door and stretches out his arm to push it
the rest of the way, smirking back at me once again, as if excited for what
lies ahead.  But before his fingertips even touch the warped wood of the
door - I snag his other hand, whispering harshly, "You can't go in there!
People are staying there!"
        His smile vanishes.  "Of course I can go in here," he corrects me -
searching my face with a puzzled expression.  "No one ever stays in this
room."  He pushes the door open - it squeaks on its hinges.
        "August, why..." I start, reaching for the light switch.
        "No, keep that light off!" August interrupts me.  "Here - come over
towards me."
        I follow his voice deeper into the darkness of the bedroom.  His
eyes are gleaming.  I can just make out the smooth contours of his bare
chest rising and falling.  I come a little bit closer - my bare feet
landing on a worn carpet.
        "Get off the carpet," August reprimands me.
        As I step sideways off it, he scoops down, looking up at me,
saying, "Not a word."  He slowly pulls back the carpet until it reveals a
hole in the wooden floor - big enough to fit my fist through.  The light
from the room below shines upwards.  As though someone suddenly turns on
the sound - I hear moaning and thumping and a bed squeaking, I slowly
become a bit stiffer.
        August is silently signaling me forward.
        I lower myself to a crouch - hesitant yet extremely provoked.  I'm
on all fours by the time I reach the hole in the ground and like the voyeur
I set out to be tonight - I look down at the steamy scene.
        A girl is on her back - hands high above her head - gripping the
bed rails.  She is perfectly nude - head tilted upwards as she examines her
male counterpart, who attracts me more.  He is average shape - with decent
muscles - about thirty years of age - and also completely nude.  I notice
his large, hard penis finding its way between her legs - as her slim legs
hug his hips.  From this point I could almost see him throbbing from being
so hard.  Clothes are strewn around the room - a tie, good slacks, a button
shirt, and white briefs that are still around his ankles.  He enters her
smoothly - and rhythmically moves in and out - her moans increasing, breast
jiggling.
        Before I am able to get completely hard and short of crying out
myself - August replaces the carpet.  I stare at where the hole once was -
still envisioning the scene, still noting both of them grunting.  I finally
look up - meeting August's eyes.  Whether he does it on purpose or not - he
avoids looking below my face - afraid that he might capture me hardening -
I secretly thank his manners.
        "Everyone here has the same mindset you do, Jacob," he says
matter-of-factly.  "Renting this room out to someone would mean covering
this hole with wood, not just a carpet."
        I can still see the both of them in my mind.  "And do they know
below?" I inquire.
        "If they do, they don't care.  Some one is always making love in
that room."
        As August gets to his feet - I am not as well-mannered as he is -
and I steal a glance at his briefs, from what I can tell in the dark, they
are tenting slightly.
        "So what exactly is the Velvet Lounge?" I ask the million dollar
question, as I follow August back out into the lighted second floor hall,
softening some in my underwear.
        "It came around during the 1920's," he explains, as we pass closed
bedroom doors.  I fantasize what is going on in those rooms.  "With the
flapper girls on the climb of social ladders - more men started to consider
them to be the bee's knees of New York City - and so this place was built
for the men to sleep with them.  It was also more than that, too, flapper
girls performed dances here, including Lucinda's mother.  There used to be
a bar - live jazz - then the sexual activities followed at night.
        "The depression in the 30's served something along the lines of a
wet blanket - smothering this place.  It retained its sexual potency, but
started to serve as just a shelter for the homeless - and hopefully now it
will resume its normal flourishing activities, besides sex."
        We reach the third floor - our floor.  We walk to the arching
entranceway to the hallway, August leans up against one side, I the other
side - flanking both side of the archway.
        "And here I thought you don't know from nothing!" I say, fixing my
briefs.
        "Lucinda taught me a lot," August says, folding his arms against
his bare chest.  I notice that he is almost completely soft in his briefs.
The head of his penis is still faintly outlined.
        I ask the second burning question after a moment of silent passes
us, "How long have you lived here?"
        August frowns in contemplation.  "I'm going on my third year," he
responds, looking me in the eye.
        I let out a low whistle.
        "Yeah, well, I reckon I don't have anywhere else to go.  I mean -
it's not exactly a bad place to live alone - if you catch my drift." He
shrugs mildly. "Occasionally a dolled up plain Jane with large bubs comes
along and her and I have our fun, but nothin' like that's been around for
awhile. Lucky for the eight pagers..." his voice drifts off.
        We stand in a comfortable silence.  Finally he continues, "Speaking
of which - I know what kind of state you're currently in."  We begin
walking down the hall - stopping outside the communal bathroom.  "At the
very last stall there's an eight pager there," he claps my bare back,
saying, "enjoy."
        August leaves me standing outside the bathroom and doesn't look
back.  I stand in the hall for a second, and then decide to enter the
bathroom.  My bare feet caress the grungy tiled floor.  A faucet is
dripping.  The small window up towards the ceiling shows speckles of stars
against the night sky.  I walk pass the line of stalls until I get to the
end.
        The door is wide open.
        Feeling suddenly aroused, I check to see if I was still alone.  I
am.  So I move into the stall, quickly, locking the door, hurriedly shove
my briefs down around my ankles and then sitting on the closed toilet seat.
I am hard and throbbing.  It sticks up in the air in a perfect vertical
erection.  My hand clasps around the thick shaft and I begin pumping like
mad - recalling the scene I just saw.  I bite my lower lip, moan slightly,
staring down at my hard penis, moaning even more like the two lovers.
        Then...
        "Jay-cub?"
        I stop abruptly - incased in an unexpected cold sweat.  I am still
throbbing hard, my hand is still grasping my penis, but I stop pumping,
petrified.  I hear and see a pair of bare feet approaching my stall.
        "Jay-cub?"
        Though I am still mortified, I find the will to move.  I stand up,
pull up my briefs, and for effect, I flush the toilet.  I unlatch the stall
door, still perfectly aware that I am impossibly hard and it is noticeable
underneath the fabric.
        Jean Jacques is standing not to far from my stall.  His heard turns
as I emerge, he is as always, nude.  "I thought eet was 'oo," Jean says and
unlike August who only looked at my face, Jean distinctly looks down to my
still hard crotch area then back up to meet my eyes.  "Am I interrupting?"
he inquires.
        I flush red.  "No, no," I stammer, trying to adjust my penis and
not be conspicuous about it, but Jean notices anyway.  "Just had to use the
john," I say casually.
        "Oh - I went knocking on your door earlier - but 'oo were not
there.  Then I 'eard 'oo and August speaking, but only August went into zee
room."
        I'm still not sure if I recovered completely from embarrassment,
but I am able to find my tongue.  "Well - what is it you wanted?"
        Jean opens his mouth to explain - but another surprise comes along.
"Jean!" a woman calls out sweetly.  Milliseconds later she enters the
bathroom.  I notice everything about her: she's a brunette, wearing a tabby
robe that is wide open, revealing her nude frontal body.
        Jean turns, "Ah this eez Jay-cub I told 'oo about earlier," he says
to the lady.
        She comes up from behind, running her hand down his chest.  I
notice her subtly pressing her nude body against his back - making his
penis rise in stiffness for a second then fall.  "So you're Jacob?" she
asks, her chin resting on Jean's shoulder.  Her eyes travel around my body,
staying fixed on my crotch area for several seconds.
        "I've heard a lot about you," she continues to address me.  "I've
seen you only in full clothes - I guess tonight makes up for that.  I'm
Paula."
        I nod a polite nod.
        "I hope you've been adjusting properly," she says, in between
kisses on Jean's neck.  However, her eyes are trained seductively on me.
        I swallow heavily in a nervous, heated state.  It's pointless to
try and hide how hard I am.  That's like hiding a fully grown elephant
behind a tree.  And seeing that he is not wearing anything - it is equally
pointless to hide Jean's hard-on.  But he does not seem to care as Paula
works smoothly on his neck, her one hand in his hair on his head, the other
hand through the hair above his penis.
        Suddenly she stops and steps away.  "Let's go, darling," she says
to Jean.  "We'll go and imagine what your friend here looks like naked."
Paula winks at me and leads Jean by the hand out of the bathroom.
        I almost call out to them that they can have the actual image of me
naked - but they are gone.  Before I'm even back in my stall, my briefs are
down; I don't even bother to shut the door as it takes me all of one minute
before I am ejaculating in excess.
        Relieved of sexual tension - I retire back to the room.  August is
snoring.  It's incredibly late.  But as I recline back on my bed, the
mattress wheezing, I realize that something is still bothering me.
        What had Jean Jacques wanted from me?