Steam Room

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I hand the cab driver the address, written on a paper napkin by the guy I’d picked up the night before.  He glances at it, then up at me with a bemused smirk.  I’m used to that.  We drive in silence till we reach a warehouse tucked away in the industrial zone of the city.  When I was told about this place I knew I had to visit and here I was.  
When I try to buy an entrance ticket, the young pretty lad at the desk tells me I just hand over my credit card and pay when I leave.  
He explains that people stay for days as the club has a twenty-four hour bar and restaurant and simple cabins in which to sleep , or fuck, for as long as you liked.
I find the locker room and undress, and then set out with a towel wrapped around my waist to explore the various darkrooms, saunas and spas.
Eventually I find what I had come for, the steam room.  I step into what appears to be an enormous dark subterranean cavern.  The room has almost no light, just pale dim spotlights in the walls emitting hardly anything more than a faint glow. The air is thick with hot mist and I can’t easily work out how to navigate myself through, with only a few dim circles of light barely denoting the edges of the room. I close the door behind me.  After a few steps I can vaguely make out one or two dark shapes lying on what I assume are benches along the walls. I make my way to an empty corner and when I reach the bench, I lie down on my back, like some primeval being, resting deep in his thick tropical rainforest, waiting for something to happen. The soaking heat is intense and very comforting. I lie there and almost forget where I am.  
Some time later, I notice some vague shadow approaching. It moves slowly. It appears to rest on the bench next to my feet. It waits.  Waiting I guess for me to respond. I lie quite still and completely unafraid. I cannot make out anything but a shadow. Moments later it moves and fades away into the mist.  

Sometime later another shadow moves slowly towards me.   I am aware of the black
cloud near me, crouching, and then flesh against my leg, the touch of anonymous fingers and the gentle strokes of a hand moving slowly up my thigh.  It finds its way between my legs and gently sucks me off.  Not a word is spoken and neither of us cares one jot what we look like or who we are.  It’s really unimportant.

After the shadow has withdrawn, I am happy just to lie there, for I have found a kind of paradise more amazing than I had imagined.  Here, sexual contact is at its most basic. No fuss, No courtship. No words exchanged or pussy-footing about.  Complete anonymity.  In a place like this, you could end up sucking off your dad or being fisted by your bank manager, or even fucking the next suicide bomber the night before he plans to blow himself up.  No one cares and no one need know.

Daniel Guy

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