He went straight to an unmarked door and that’s how I found it.We both entered at the same time. I had never, ever, set foot at a gay bathhouse by then and didn’t quite know the routine. The doorman took my entry fee, not expensive, and gave me a key to my room, a towel and a handful of brightly coloured condoms.The place was a maze of various kinds of meeting rooms, in addition to the private cubicles, of which I had one.I had asked the doorman, “how do I tell what a like to do?”“Just show yourself and you will find out.”I walked around for a while, with the towel lightly wrapped around my waist, as all the other men did. I looked into some open doors where a man was sitting or lying in a provocative position. Some doors were closed and you could clearly make out the sounds of the excitement of sex in progress. The grunts and the groans were very obvious. (Lycky them, I thought).The facilities were second to no gym or spa at the best hotel. There were two saunas, a dry and a steam. He wasn’t bulky, but he wasn’t too slim, either – just a nice, average size with hard, compact muscle from neck to foot. I had often fantasized about feeling his strong arms around me, caressing the back of his neck and losing myself in the warm, passionate, perfect kiss that he must be the master of, considerate and intelligent as he was. These thoughts always made me blush when he was nearby. I pushed those thoughts ruthlessly away and worked on my ‘stone face’ in the mirror as the sleeve of his gi brushed past mine. Focus, I told myself sternly. Sensei finished telling his story, then, since class was about to run over time, nodded to his black belts to resume their positions at the side of the class. The senior brown belt present called for the various bows, Sensei clapped sharply twice to dismiss us, and the dojo broke out in conversation as everyone made their way back to the lockers and water fountains. I pulled my waist-length blonde hair out of its sweaty twist and started.
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