Page 26 of Muscle Cub

Eric sighed. “Well, if I were more motivated, I’d at least go to watch, but—”

“Excuse me?” Ben huffed, affronted.

Eric grabbed Ben’s thigh under the table and nuzzled his ear. “You didn’t let me finish. I was gonna say, I can’t imagine a better workout than a post-breakfast nap.”

The way he popped the P at the end of nap implied there would be other Ps involved.

The chemistry between them—and the affection more than anything—was palpable. They turned heads. All the flirting, the cruising, the hooking up here… Even if they wouldn’t admit it, a lot of these men ultimately wanted to end up in something that looked like whatever Eric and Ben had.

“Well, hey. We hiked up here, and we’re hiking back. That’s gotta count for something, right?” I stood and gathered my dirty dishes. “I think I’m gonna shower and go read by the pool.”

Eric and Ben followed me to the bus tubs near the kitchen.

“Beware the Bloody Marys down by the pool,” Eric said. “Sometimes it’s mimosas. Sometimes it’s both. They’re poured heavy-handed, and if you’re not careful, your lightweight ass’ll end up trashed before noon and sleeping it off the rest of the day.”

11

I’d seriously considered walking over to Bathhouse Three to take a shower and shave this time. Maybe sneak a peek at Austin teaching. But if he were to see me, it’d be obvious what I was doing.

Possibly a little pathetic.

My legitimately attending was out of the question. He didn’t need some random older dude he’d hooked up with stalking him, then passing out in his class.

I believed the chemistry between us was genuine and mutual, but I had no delusions about how I might fare in a side-by-side comparison with a bunch of gym-going types.

Bathhouse Two, the one at the pool complex where we’d gone last night, was only a hundred yards from my tent and the obvious and sensible choice. The communal showers were packed with naked guys, but after my night with Austin, I didn’t enjoy the view nearly as much today. I was afraid I might become unintentionally aroused due to my chemically assisted dick, but I was relieved to discover the medicine didn’t automatically override my lack of interest.

Austin had probably ruined me for anyone else for a long time.

When I saw my reflection in the mirror, I was mortified by how red-faced I still was from the medication. It was a glaring spotlight on my situation. I peered at the other men going about their morning routines, wondering who else might share my affliction, but so many of them seemed to have unusually flushed complexions. It was probably only the heat from the sauna and the showers, and I hoped once I got out of this sweatbox, my own persistent blush would subside.

I returned to my tent to change into a pair of board shorts. I downed an extra bottle of water and took a few over-the-counter fever reducers. I grabbed my e-reader, sunglasses, sunscreen, and a towel, and went to claim a spot near the pool.

It was still early. A handful of leather-skinned sunbathers who’d clearly been working on their tans since the eighties were quietly dozing, and a raucous group at a nearby table poured drinks and handed them out.

One of the men waved to me and raised his voice. “Mimosa or Mary, Mary?”

At first, I wasn’t sure he was talking to me, but a quick glance confirmed there was nobody seated behind me. I raised my eyebrows.

He squinted, playfully biting the end of his finger, and then he pointed it at me. “You look like a Bloody Mary to me.” He held up a cup with a celery stalk and a toothpick stacked with olives sticking out of the top. “Want one?”

My hangover plus these hellacious side effects weren’t likely to cure themselves. Fuck whatever Austin had to say about hair of the dog; at the moment, it was definitely more appealing than exercise. “Um, yeah. That’d be great.” I jumped up and met him halfway so he wouldn’t have to serve me. The first sip was heavenly, the salty, sour taste of the juice and the scent of black pepper filling my nose. I groaned with pleasure. “Oh my God. That’s delicious. Thank you.”

“Sure thing, baby,” he said.

I was oddly touched by this random person—a guest, clearly, not a staff member—making and serving drinks to strangers just because. There was a camaraderie here I’d never encountered in the outside world. Few queer-friendly environments I’d been in could claim this level of instant inclusiveness. I often felt a little judged and overlooked.

The sudden wave of fond feelings might have been due to my being sleep-deprived, hungover, and having gotten laid for the first time in forever, but it could also have been evidence of the welcoming camp society Eric had evangelized for years.

I sipped my drink and pretended to read while people-watching behind my sunglasses. The Bloody Marys kept offering me a refill, but I heeded Eric’s warning. Eric and Ben arrived, carrying a cooler between them, with Eric’s musician friends/clients Alex, Noah, and Lance trailing close behind. They descended on my quiet, shady spot, dragging a few extra chairs over so we could all squeeze in around the same table.

Alex grumbled about having slept through breakfast, and Noah wondered aloud if there might be coffee at the cabana bar. Lance said he was fine with skipping the caffeine and going right into day drinking.

Ben poured and passed around cups of something that smelled like pineapple and rum. The proportion of alcohol was enough to make my eyes water, not to mention it would’ve been a terrible flavor progression from tomato juice and Worcestershire, so I declined.

Lance took the cup from me and declared it breakfasty enough.

Austin walked by carrying a bag of ice on each shoulder. He’d changed again, this time into a staff T-shirt with the sleeves cut out, a pair of retro, white athletic shorts, and tall striped tube socks.