Page 66 of Men in Shorts

Fergus forced a congenial smile. “I’ll take a rain check, thanks.” Then he stepped forward with more confidence than he felt, as though expecting Neil to move out of his way.

Which he did.

Outside the steam room, the air felt cold in comparison, raising goosebumps on Fergus’s arms. He moved down the narrow, twisting hallway, brushing past a pair of old men who were nearly bald but for their shoulder-length, pepper-and-salt ponytails.

God grant me the courage to shave my head if I lose that much hair, he thought.

Fergus stopped at the threshold to a casual lounge, empty of men but with more lush decor than the rest of the club. Faux-leather chairs surrounded an oak coffee table near a TV showing BBC Scotland.

On the opposite side of the lounge was a doorway fitted with floor-length black-vinyl vertical blinds. Fergus wondered if the room beyond was off-limits, perhaps a storage area.

Frustrated, he looked down the corridor in both directions. John must have taken the other hall when he entered the lower level, perhaps at the suggestion of the massage-room gatekeeper. Surely he and Fergus would meet somewhere in this murky maze.

Just then, the blinds on the other side of the lounge slapped open. Out strode a muscular man with a long, dark mustache that ended in a pair of upturned points. He stopped short, squinting at his surroundings, and as the blinds swung shut, Fergus could see why. The room he’d left was pitch black.

The darkroom.

“Gonnae stay out of there, mate.” The tusk-mustachioed man stomped forward, fists clenched. “It’s full of perverts.”

Speechless, Fergus moved aside to let him pass. Then he stepped up to the darkroom’s still-swaying blinds. Could John be waiting for him inside?

He wouldn’t.

Aye, John would.

Fergus checked that his towel was firmly tucked around his waist, giving the top an extra twist to tighten it. Then he forced his feet to propel him forward, through the blinds.

Inside the room, a single short strand of orange Halloween lights were draped over a rectangular mirror on the side wall. Other than that, the chamber was utterly dark.

Hello?…John?Fergus called out in his head, unable to make his throat work. He knew his white towel and fair skin would make him visible to anyone whose eyes had already adjusted. So if John were here, he’d call to Fergus, right?

Sure, because that’s how hide-and-seek works.

A scuffling noise came from his left. Fergus froze, widening his eyes in a desperate grab for light. Then he inched forward, using feet instead of hands to detect obstacles, lest he accidentally grope a naked stranger.

A rhythmic jingling sound stopped him in his tracks. As the dance music fell into a quiet lull, the jangling came clearer, accompanied by two muffled moans of dissonant pitches. Was someone wearing handcuffs or chains or…dog tags?

Checking the security of his towel, Fergus felt his hand strike the key hanging from his neck, knocking it against the locker tag and producing the same jangle he was hearing in the room. So somewhere, very close, heads or bodies—or both—were moving back and forth, rattling their keys.

“Faster now,” whispered a new voice near the jangly fellows.

Fergus stepped back in surprise. How many men were in here? Was his own boyfriend hidden in one of these shadows?

“John, are you there?” His voice sounded loud and foreign amid the music and panting and jingling.

“Shh!” said the other man. “I’m trying to concentrate.” There came a sudden rip of Velcro. “Gonnae let’s hear you scream.”

Fergus lurched away, crashing into what felt like a soft vinyl armchair, before realizing the man’s last sentence wasn’t directed at him.

The other two voices crescendoed, no longer muffled. Mixed with their clinking keys and rising cries was the third man’s hoarse whisper-shout. “Yes! I’m gonnae come all over youse.”

Fergus’s skin tingled, and his cock gave a quick jerk, then another. He thought of how sex noises drove John mad, how Fergus’s often theatrical orgasms could send him over the edge in an instant. He would love this room.

But unless John was bound and gagged in the corner, he wasn’t here.

Light flooded in as a head poked through the blinds on the room’s opposite side. (At least Fergusthoughtit was the opposite side. For all he knew, he’d traveled in a circle since entering.)

He made a beeline for the light, startling the newcomer as he passed. “Sorry,” Fergus said. “It’s dark,” he added, like an idiot.

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