In the Dark

by G. A. Hauser

  “They coming back on?” Chris asked the stranger.

  “I hope so. I’m standing here in my underwear and I can’t see a fricken thing.”

  Chris laughed. “Ditto.”

  “Shouldn’t there be emergency lighting? I can’t see my hand in front of my face.”

  Setting the slacks he had in his hand down on a ledge he knew was to his left. Chris began feeling around the area for his own trousers. “This sucks!”

  “Jesus! Where’s my fucking pants?”

  Hearing the same panic in the second man’s voice, Chris actually laughed. “If I leave wearing the wrong clothes, they can’t arrest me for shoplifting. I can’t see shit.”

  “There has to be emergency lights. This is insane!”

  “I don’t even have a book of matches,” Chris muttered.

  “Me neither. Don’t smoke.”

  “Hello?” Chris called out. “Anyone have a flashlight?” He heard the second man chuckle. “What are you laughing at?”

  “You. This place was almost empty when I came into the dressing room. Who exactly are you shouting for?”

  Chris thought he located his pants. “Anyone?”

  “Fuck. Where’s my fucking jeans?”

  Managing to get his slacks on, at least thinking they were his own pair, Chris touched the pockets and did indeed feel his wallet, phone, and keys in them. He lowered to the floor and began reaching around for his shoes. He touched a hand and jumped.

  “Is that you?” the second man asked nervously.

  “Yes. You’re reaching under the stall to my spot. You didn’t find my shoes did you?”

  The man laughed. “Still looking for my fricken jeans.”

  “Well, they’re not in here.”

  “They have to have a generator. This is really unbelievable.”

  “It is. I hate the sense of blindness. It’s making me crazy.”

  “Finally.”

  “Found something?” Chris knocked into a shoe as he groped blindly.

  “I think. Hopefully.”

  Imagining the man to be in his twenties, Chris smiled. “I think I have a shoe.”

  “Is it mine or yours?” the man laughed.

  “What size do you wear?” Chris joked.

  “Ten and a half.”

  “Well then. It could be either of ours.”

  “Stealing my shoes?”

  “Yeah, that’s me. Shoe fettish.” Chris sat on the floor and put one shoe on, reaching around for the other.

  “How can they not have emergency lights?”

  “You can write a letter complaining about it when you get home. How’s that?” Chris began searching for shoe number two. He ran into a hand again. “Are you crawling in here with me?” he asked jokingly.

  “Depends. What the hell do you look like?” came an impish reply.

  Chris broke up with laughter. “I can lie. I can say I look like George Clooney. You wouldn’t know.”

  “Yeah? Clooney?”

  “No. Sorry. Not that good.” Chris enjoyed this insanity though being sightless was maddening. He pitied the blind instantly.

  “You sound good.”

  “Did you take my shoe?” Chris couldn’t locate the second one.

  “No. I swear I didn’t take your shoe. I’m still working on finding my pants.”

  A pause followed as Chris continued to feel the floor for his second loafer.

  “You’d think they’d send someone around wth a flashlight and make sure everyone is all right.”

  “You certainly have high expectations for a shopping mall store.” Chris grew frustrated. “You sure you didn’t steal my shoe?”

  “Hang on. Let me see how many I have in here.”

  Waiting patiently, Chris chuckled at the comedy of the situation.

  “The floor is really gross.”

  “I know. I’m loath to touch it. Seems its been a while since they swept.” Chris brushed off his hands.

  In the pause Chris listened. Other than the man next to him, he couldn’t hear another human voice. “You don’t think they’d lock us in here?”

  “They have to do a sweep of the place. Wait...is this your shoe?”

  As he sat on the floor of his stall, Chris reached under the wall towards the next one. “Where are you?”

  Cracking up, the man said, “I haven’t moved. Where am I?”

  “Hang on.” Slowly, so he wouldn’t bang into anything, Chris made it to his feet and felt around the walls.

  “Where are you?” the man asked curiously.

  “I’m trying to get to you.” Chris smoothed his fingers along the painted wooden divider.

  “Yeah? That sounds inviting.”

  Chris grinned broadly. “Really?”

  “You getting close? I’m afaid to move and slam into you.”

  “Where are you in the stall?”

  “Still sitting on my ass on the floor searching for my clothing.”

  “Okay.” Anticipating the man being low, Chris crouched down and found the entrance of his dressing room right beside his own. “Where’s the shoe?” He reached into the space and felt skin. “Sorry.” He imagined it was a leg but couldn’t be certain.

  “No problem. Where’s your hand?” He laughed.

  “Believe it or not, I’m holding it out for the shoe.”

  “I believe it, but I can’t see a fucking thing!”

  Chris inched closer. He definately felt a leg covered in soft hair. “I found you.”

  “Sweet. What did you say you looked like?”

  “Why? Is the pitch darkness giving you lurid ideas?”

  “If I say yes, will you hit me? Or worse, abandon me?”

  “I could describe myself but it’s useless.” Chris kept his fingertips in contact with what he was imagining was a shin.

  “Try.”

  Assuming he knew where the second man was now, Chris sat down so he wouldn’t step on him. “I’m Chris. I’m twenty-eight, six foot tall and weigh two hundred pounds.”

  “Nice. Don’t stop touching my leg. At least I know where you are, sort of.”

  “All right,” Chris replied, smiling, resting his hand on that warm limb. He tried to imagine what this man looked like solely based on his voice. “Your turn?”

  “I’m Phil. I’m twenty-five, six foot three, and around two hundred and twenty pounds.”

  “Christ, you’re big. I won’t screw with you.”

  “Too bad.”

  At that sexual invitation, Chris chuckled. “What color are your hair and eyes?” He knew he should move his hand but hell the guy said to keep it there.

  “Brown and brown. You?”

  “Brown and blue.”

  “I love that. Brown and blue.” After a deep inhale, Phil asked. “Any face hair?”

  “No. Clean shaven.”

  “Me too. Ah...married?”

  “No.” Chris laughed shyly.

  “This keeps getting better.”

  “Does it?” Chris wished he had a pack of matches. He’d love a quick glimpse of Phil.

  “Where the hell are you?”

  Chris felt a wash of air as if Phil was feeling around for him. “Why? What will you do if you find me?” Chris released Phil’s leg to defend against an accidental swipe at his face.

  “What do you want me to do to you?” Phil responded wickedly.

  “In the pitch dark on the floor of a dirty fitting room? Are you serious?”

  “What are we supposed to do? I can’t see for shit. I still can’t find my pants and if you think it’s scary in here, I’ll bet if we try fumbling our way out of the dressing room and into uncharted territory we’ll get killed out there.”

  “There has to be an emergency lighting system. Maybe not in here, but out there.” Chris pointed over his shoulder but he knew it wasn’t seen in the complete blackness.

  “Yeah huh? Don’t count on it. Crap. Help me find my fucking jeans, will ya?”

  “Where did you leave them, Phil?�
�

  “I thought I left them on the ledge, but when I checked they weren’t there. They must have slid off when I put the slacks I was trying on over them.”

  Chris knelt up and began reaching out to the same side of the stall as where he was crouching. His knuckles hit a solid object. “Ouch.”

  “That sucked.”

  “I’m afraid to move. My luck I’ll smack my face against the wall.” Chris ran into Phil again, touching warm, naked skin. His thigh? He had no idea and didn’t know if he should investigate. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

  Phil laughed. “Man! I want to know what you look like.”

  “Where is your hand?” Chris asked.

  “Why? What are you going to do with it?” Phil responded seductively.

  “Brush it off and try to find my hand.” Chris heard some rustling.

  “Clean now. Where are you?”

  Chris waved his arms around and found Phil’s fingers reaching towards him. He held Phil’s wrist and brought it to his face. “Here I am.”

  “Cool. Hang on. Let me brush my other hand off.”

  Feeling the warmth of Phil’s palm on his cheek, Chris waited patiently. More rustling sounds followed. A second hand slowly touched the other side of his face. Now Phil was cupping Chris’s jaw.

  “Braille me.” Chris laughed.

  “If you’re cute, I’ll fucking nail you.”

  Chris laughed. “You’re gay?”

  “I am now!” Phil chuckled. “Jesus, Chris, you sound like a hot motherfucker.”

  Closing his eyes, Chris kept quiet as Phil touched his face lightly. As gently as possible, Phil tickled Chris’s forehead, ran his fingers over his eyebrows, down his eyelids to his cheekbones, his jaw line, his lips, his nose, and finally his hair, running both hands into it sensually.

  “This isn’t helping me picture what you look like, but it’s getting me hotter than hell.”

  It was getting Chris ‘hotter than hell’ as well. “No. I suppose it was a stupid idea.” Chris caught a whiff of Phil’s cologne and inhaled. Phil’s hands lowered slowly down Chris’s neck. “Going exploring?”

  “I was planning on it. Do you mind?”

  “I don’t have any idea if I do or not.” Chris smiled. “I’ve never been in a situation like this in my life.”

  “I can’t decide if it’s driving me crazy because it’s so frustrating, or so incredibly sexy.”

  “Our luck the lights will go on and we’ll cringe at the sight of each other.”

  “Why do I have a feeling that’s not going to happen?” Phil ran his palms over Chris’s shoulders.

  Tingling at the caress from his unseen stranger, Chris prayed Phil was as good looking as he was imagining. “Who do you look like?” Chris asked, “Like anyone I would know?”

  “You mean like in a movie star? Or someone famous?”

  “Yes. Like that. Who do you resemble?”

  “Uh…Rock Hudson?”

  “Shut up!” Chris laughed. “Rock Hudson.”

  When Phil didn’t reply, Chris whispered, “For real?”

  “I’ve been told I look a little like him. But I don’t have his or your blue eyes.”

  Boldly Phil’s fingers touched the skin on Chris’s chest near his open top shirt button. A flash of fire hit Chris instantly. “Rock Hudson?” Chris began panting at the excitement, wanting Phil’s hands to continue their little voyage.

  “Yes. A little…what about you? Please tell me someone good.”

  Chris laughed softly. “I don’t know. I’ve certainly not been compared to Rock Hudson.”

  “Well, you’re not bald. I know that.” Phil smoothed his hand over Chris’s head, combing through his mane.

  Laughing, Chris replied, “No. Full head of hair.”

  “Tell me…come on. You must resemble someone.”

  Dealing with the chills Phil was causing as he continued to caress and fondle him in the dark, Chris racked his brains to think. “Fine. Did you watch the Olympics on TV?”

  “Yes…” Phil replied tentatively, his hands pausing as they rested on Chris’s shoulders.

  Though Chris had the urge to reach out and touch Phil, he kept his own hands on his lap at the moment. “Did you see the javelin competition?”

  “Yes…” Phil answered.

  “You take a good look at the gold medalist?”

  “Andreas Thorkildsen?” Phil gasped. “You look like Andreas Thokildsen?”

  “Well, I—” About to add a disclaimer that he only resembled the gorgeous Norwegian, Chris was grabbed by the jaw and yanked down to the floor on top of Phil. The zinging sensation of being on top of a hot male body in the pitch dark had Chris’s head spinning.

  “No! Tell me you’re lying!”

  Hearing Phil panting in excitement, Chris felt badly. “I’ve been told I look a little like him.” Chris wasn’t the kind of guy to boast about his charm or appeal. He was modest and hoped he wasn’t setting Phil up for a disappointment when the lights came on.

  As if the image of having a man as spectacular as Andreas Thorkildsen pressing down on him heavily was lighting Phil on fire, he shouted, “Holy fuck,” and connected to Chris’s mouth, sucking at his lips and tongue wildly.

  Astonished, Chris’s eyes sprang open even though it did nothing to help his blindness. Phil was going crazy under him, wrapping around him with his bare hairy legs and gripping his head tightly for a deep, passionate open mouth kiss. Parting for a breath of air, Chris gasped, “Jesus! Phil!”

  “Is it true?” Phil ran his hand over Chris’s face in excitement. “Are you telling the truth or just saying that to drive me insane?”

  Unable to catch his breath at the sensory overload of Phil’s fondling, gasping and writhing under him, Chris felt dizzy. “How could I say it to drive you insane? You think I had intuitive knowledge you had the hots for that man? Christ, I’m surprised you even know who he is.”

  Phil’s fingers smoothed down Chris’s back to his ass, squeezing a cheek in each hand ardently. “I know. You kidding me? I know every gorgeous stud who participated in those games. I make it my business to know.”

  The heavy petting from Phil had gotten Chris into a heightened state of arousal. It was time he became an active participant and stopped limply accepting all of Phil’s advances.

  After wiping his hands off on his own slacks to get the floor grit off, Chris found Phil’s head and touched his hair and the side of his face. “Do you really look like Rock Hudson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you a model?”

  “I am.”

  “Damn.” Wriggling his hips on Phil, Chris tried to imagine Phil’s features as he ran his fingertips along his forehead, down his nose to his mouth, just as Phil had done to him previously.

  Phil’s hand clamped onto Chris’s ass urging his crotch harder down on top of his own. “It’s making me crazy that I can’t see you,” Phil snarled seductively.

  “Me too. It’s very disorienting.” Chris gave up on trying to ‘read’ Phil’s features.

  “Why don’t they have floodlights? Isn’t it required?”

  “I don’t know, Phil. I have no idea what’s going on in the outside world at the moment. I only know what’s going on in this dressing room. And that, barely.” Chris laughed.

  “I think I remember them talking about a thunderstorm, but not one that would blackout the city, if it has.”

  Chris dug his fingers into Phil’s thick hair wishing he could visualize his face, but now all he could picture was Rock Hudson. But that wasn’t a bad thing. “I really have no clue what’s going on. Do you want to try and find your clothing and go see?”

  “No.”

  Chris smiled. “No?”

  “Screw the outside world. I have Andreas Thorkildsen lying on top of me. With a fucking erection, I may add.”

  “Man, I hope I don’t regret telling you that and when the lights come on you’re disappointed.”

  “Did you lie?”<
br />
  Chris’s smile dropped. “No. I didn’t lie. I have been told I resemble him.” Instantly, he was embraced and rolled. Chris flinched as if he would get smashed into a wall. He knew these rooms weren’t known for their size. Now Phil was on top of him, his weight impressive as he pressed Chris to the floor. “You’re a big fella, aren’t you?” Chris whispered.

  “Yes. Wanna feel how big?”

  As Chris swallowed nervously his hand was led to Phil’s hard-on over his briefs. “Wow.”

  “You like?” Phil asked, using Chris’s hand to massage himself.

  “Jesus. You’re huge. Who on earth do you model for? Gay porn?” A low chuckle found its way to Chris’s ears. “No. Do you?”

  “I dabble.”

  “Dabble?” Moaning softly at the feel of such a wonderful appendage, Chris ran his fingers up and down the length of Phil’s imposing dick.

  “I do a little dancing in West Hollywood on the side as well.”

  “No shit?” Chris felt a shiver of excitement wash over him. He loved go-go boys. Fucking loved them!

  “Yeah. You hang around WeHo at all?”

  “A bit. Yes. Not as much as I’d like.” But I will now! Growl!

  Phil whimpered softly. “That feels good. You can go into my briefs you know.”

  “You think this blackout is just temporary?” Chris felt a pang of nerves as the action grew more heated in this pitch dark environment. “You know, and the lights will come on and…”

  “How am I supposed to answer that question?”

  “No. You can’t. I suppose I was just looking for an opinion.”

  “If you want my opinion…”

  “I do.”

  “We should get naked.”

  Chris started laughing. “Bad boy! Naked on the floor of Nordstrom’s fitting room. How romantic.”

  As if the idea was perfectly reasonable to him, Phil began kissing Chris’s neck sending tingles all over his skin.

  The caressing was making Chris crazy. “Holy shit. You weren’t kidding.” One by one the buttons of his shirt were popped open. When Chris was exposed to the cool air, he felt Phil’s fingers exploring his chest and nipples, all the while Phil licked at his jaw and cheek. In reflex Chris squeezed Phil’s cock, pumping it in his palm. It obviously was driving Phil crazy because he groaned in longing and began tearing off Chris’s clothing.

  Fearing the walls of the tiny space hitting him in the head, Chris reached out just to get a notion for how much room they had in case they began flailing around from passion. The back wall with the mirror was located, and one side wall. It appeared there was a little space to their right.