(Editing and feedback kindly provided by EditingAlix.)
Things had not been going well at home. My relationship with my girlfriend had become difficult. Depression, anxiety and reproach had made couple life difficult. It was neither our fault. Or maybe it was both? Probably it was both. To avoid being at home, I had finally gotten into the gym. I had read articles about people falling in love with exercise, but I had never believed them. For me, going to the gym was something you were obliged to do, like going to the dentist or having your car serviced.
But that summer, I actually did learn to enjoy being at the gym. I would go late. Arrive at about nine in the evening, work out for an hour or so and then make use of the in--house spa facility. Calling it a spa was very generous; I'm not sure a hot tub, steam room and sauna crammed into a space no larger than the men's changing rooms quite qualified. But hey, it was there, and it would have been a shame to not use it.
I quickly got into the habit, after my workouts, of sinking into the hot tub for a while. It was hugely pleasant being able to sit and marinate in it. Just the feeling of silence and isolation allowed me to finally breathe. I would stay there for ages, feeling the bubbles on my body while I stewed over the problems at home. That little spa became my own private fortress of solitude. Or at least it was, until Alistair made his way into my life.
It was the middle of summer when we first met. I had gone to the gym after yet another argument at home and taken my frustration out on the treadmill. Dripping with sweat, I went back to the changing rooms and put my swimming shorts on. I took a moment to admire myself in the mirror there. Although my home life was terrible for my mental health, it was doing wonders for my physique. I had, for maybe the first time ever, the hint of a six pack. It was barely embryonic, but the signs of life were there.
I slipped on my trunks, a pair of tight blue boxer style ones, and hit the spa. After ten minutes of sitting with my eyes closed in the warm bubbling water, I heard the door open and shut. I felt a twinge of annoyance. This was my space and my time, how dare it be violated by someone else. I opened an eye and looked at the interloper.
He was tall; taller than me by a good few inches and lean in the same way a greyhound is. His skin had the tan of someone who worked outside for a living. His hair and the scruff of his trimmed bear was salt--and--pepper. Age was anyone's guess; he could have been mid--forties through to early sixties. He was one of those annoying people who seem to have matured rather than aged. I should point out that he was wearing possibly the tightest pair of black Speedos I had ever seen.
I hoped he was going to head for the sauna or the steam room, but instead, he made a beeline for the hot tub. As he climbed the ladder, I shuffled to one of the sides to give him room to sit. He flashed me a smile of thanks and climbed in. We sat there in silence for a few minutes.
"Sorry for intruding on you," he said suddenly. "Must be annoying having someone barge in when you have the place to yourself." His voice was mellow, and his accent plummy.
"Oh, it's fine. It's not my hot tub to hog," I responded. We sat in silence for a few moments more.
"I'll be honest, I had hoped it would be empty here. Sometimes I just like to come and sit alone with my thoughts. It's nice to be truly on your own occasionally."
I am not normally the kind of person who will talk to strangers. Normally someone trying to start up a conversation with me would make me head for the nearest exit. But I was in a strange mood that evening.
"Me too. That's why I came here so late. Helps me unwind when I'm stressed," I said.
And from there we began to talk. He introduced himself as Alistair, Ali to his friends, and told me a bit about himself. He was formerly a chef on yachts but had now given it all up to come back to dry land. I, in return, told him a bit about my mundane life, although I avoided going into too much depth about conditions at home.
Eventually, I bid him good night and went back to the changing room. My skin was thoroughly pruned at that point. I checked my watch and realised I had been chatting to Ali for almost fortyfive minutes. I quickly dressed and hurried home.
Ali quickly became a central point of my gym routine. At first, we would run into each other in the spa. We would sit in the hot tub and talk about our lives, the world and how it all should be. After a few weeks, we would start meeting up to work out. We would spot each other before heading to the hot tub. Eventually, we swapped numbers and soon began texting each other throughout the day. Over the course of the summer, Ali went from being a stranger in a gym, to becoming my best friend.
We spoke to each other about everything. I told him about the problems between myself and my girlfriend. He spoke to me about how hard he was finding it to get work. He would also fill me in on the details of his dating life. Ali was proudly bisexual, and in the truly blessed position of being interested in both men and women equally. I would joke that he had won the lottery of life, being interested in every item on the menu. He would often regale me with stories of his conquests from his time on the yachts, or before at university or the private school his parents had packed him off to when he was just a boy.� � � � � � � � � � � � �
By the time summer had turned to autumn, I realised that my feelings towards Ali were far more complex than simply seeing him as a friend. Whenever he messaged me, my heart skipped a beat; whenever I walked to the gym, I felt almost nervous; and whenever we would talk about his lovers, I felt... jealous? Things at home had gotten much worse. My girlfriend and I were barely speaking to each other. Communication between us was now conducted by screaming rows or passive--aggressive notes left on the fridge. I put down my intense feelings for Ali to that. He was someone that I could pour my heart and soul out to, without fear of judgement or critique. Put simply, he was my confidant and support in a stressful time. He was a good friend. Nothing more, and nothing less.
The situation changed dramatically in late September. That evening I had escaped to the gym after an evening of frosty silence. I had not intended to, I had been the day previously, but I needed a break. I messaged Ali as I walked there; a quick message to see if he fancied meeting up. I knew he had had plans that evening ---- meeting up with some other friends that I was only a little bit resentful of. To my surprise Ali messaged me back saying he would meet me there in an hour. The fact he was willing to drop his plans so quickly made me smile to myself.
I arrived in the gym and went through the vague motions of a workout. My heart wasn't in it, and frankly that wasn't why I was there in the first place. The hour passed quickly and within no time I saw Ali come sauntering in. He had his gym bag thrown over his shoulder and gave me a surreptitious wink as he passed.
"Fancy a dip?" he whispered as he went.
I abandoned whatever token gesture of an exercise I was in the middle of and followed him back to the changing rooms.
"So, what happened today?" he asked me, unprompted, as he began to strip. I began to reel off the various aggressions committed that day, by myself, by my girlfriend. Looking back on it now, I realise that these grievances were tiny issues blown up by a fundamental incompatibility. But at the time, they were all consuming.
As I spoke, Ali continued to get changed. First, he lost his shirt. He still had his slim muscular figure, just. A slight middle--aged paunch was starting to develop, but you would only know if you studied his physique as I was doing. As I was eyeing up Ali, he bent over and in one smooth move, whipped off both his trousers and boxers.
Despite spending all summer long enjoying workouts and hot tub sessions, I had never seen Ali's dick before. I immediately turned away slightly flustered and concentrated on removing my own clothes. As I fumbled with my shorts, I found myself sneaking a glance. I didn't know why. I assumed natural curiosity. He was circumcised, and his pubes were trimmed close to his skin. I went back to looking at my own affairs. In the corner of my eye, I saw him begin to slide his too tight Speedos up and into position.
We finished getting changed and headed into the little spa. Ali went straight to the hot tub, and I dutifully followed him. As he climbed the steps up to the tub's edge, I found myself looking at his backside. I had never quite appreciated just how toned his rear was. I realised I was looking at another's man's arse appreciatively. Between that and looking at his dick I felt...odd. I was straight. I was with a woman, after all. Why was I taking such an interest in Ali?
We got in the hot tub. Ali sat to the left, and I to the right. The spa area was empty, just as it always was at that time of night. Despite that, or maybe because of it, as I sat down, Ali scooched over next to me. The odd feeling intensified, and I realised it was butterflies in my stomach ---- a feeling I hadn't had in an awfully long time.
"Sorry, my hearing is getting bad. I need to be a bit closer to you," he said.
It was a lie, we both knew. His hearing had never been an issue previously, and it wouldn't be in the future. He sat close to me, our thighs pressed against each other. Ali looked at me expectantly. This would normally be where I would launch into my personal problems. But this time I was tongue tied. I felt his brown eyes looking at me ---- his lips were slightly parted, as if he were just on the cusp of saying something. Down below, the sensation of his skin on mine was having an effect in my swimwear. I could feel the blood beginning to flow and the beginnings of an erection starting to form.
"Are you okay?" Ali asked.
I didn't know the answer. On one hand, I felt comfortable and happy being so close to him. Excited even. But on the other hand, these were not emotions I had felt before in the presence of a man. I didn't know what to say in response, so I did the only sensible thing that came to mind. I kissed him.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. I felt him momentarily tense as our mouths touched. Surprise, maybe. Just as quickly I felt him soften. His lips parted and let me in. It was wonderful. Possibly the most incredible kiss I had ever had. His stubble rubbed against my own as our tongues began to intertwine. He tasted coffee and chocolate and he smelt of black pepper and sweat.
As we kissed, I felt him move and turn his torso to face me. I felt him reach up and gently work his fingers into the hair on the back of head, holding me in place. I could feel myself trembling. My swimming trunks felt a size too small as my erection threatened to tear the stretchy material apart. I reached out a shaky arm and pressed my hand to his side. His skin was hot and firm. I fought the urge to grab him and pull him as close to me as possible; to force his flesh against my own.
Ali broke the kiss off but kept his hand on the back of my head.
"Are you sure you want to be doing this?" he asked me.
"Yes," I whispered.
"Just tell me to stop and I'll stop," he responded.
With that he kissed me again. Once more my mouth and nose were filled with his taste and smell. We stayed like that for an age. The warm bubbling water surrounded us. As we kissed, I knew I wanted more. I wanted to explore everything about Ali's body and was desperate for him to keep touching me. For a brief, second Ali readjusted his posture and his leg brushed against my erection. I gasped and I heard Ali give a slight satisfied chuckle.
The opening of the spa door made us both jump. We split apart immediately and did our best to look unsuspicious. One of the gym's staff, a spotty young lad, sauntered around the corner and gave us a funny look.
