There’s a lone Asian guy, very buff, showering to my left as I walk by. The portal to the steam room is located just past the communal showers.
161, I strip down and cinch the towel around my waist. And yes, I do get the undeniable rush of having taken the plunge - of being, at last, inside looking in. Every once in a while, as though stranded inside a gay Advent calendar, I come upon a room with the door popped open and a guy inside either lying nude on his tummy or jacking off while his eyes stare out into the hallway. Silhouettes of nude men brush slowly past as I wander the narrow corridors, checking ascending and descending door numbers, trying to look like I know what I’m doing. 161, no TV), two blue Lifestyles rubbers and a bleached towel through the change trough. Yeah, baby, I’m cool! He gives me back a 20 and then my actual change, and slips a small voucher, room keys (no. The guy behind the Plexiglas says “23 bucks,” and I push him three crisp 20s, apologizing for a lack of smaller bills. Illustration by Trask Bedortha Īs soon as I step through the door, my nose fills with that universal sex-shop smell, a combination of chlorine and something sort of sweetish and sweaty and overripe.
