by Nathan Bay
FOG CITY
TEMPTATION
BATHHOUSE CONFESSIONS #4
NATHAN BAY
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Nathan Bay
Cover design by Nathan Bay
All rights reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First edition: May 2019
Bay Cove Press
Chapter 1
San Francisco - June, 1955
The summer fog was snaking through the city, swallowing up the land below. I watched as purple skies disappeared from the horizon, blotted out by glittery grey plumes.
This was my favorite time of day, when my work was done and I finally had the opportunity to sit down and enjoy the view from the Sea Cliff mansion I called home.
I sipped from my glass of tea, tasting the tangy fresh peach infusion bubbling on my tongue. The flavor reminded me of my childhood, when my mother always had a fresh pitcher sitting on the porch. You'd never find a sunset like this back in Kansas.
Nobody would aspire to have my life, but I was quite content with it. From six in the morning until four in the afternoon, I was a fisherman. Five days a week and sometimes weekends too.
My main trade was in Dungeness crab. That was the real money-maker. When crab wasn't in season, I would go out looking for fish. That didn't pay as well as crab, but it kept me busy and it was nice to always have money in my pocket.
My employer was Mr. Frank Ritts. He and his wife Rita were big-time dealers with the local markets. They were good people who handled the business end while I did the dirty work at sea.
I didn't mind. Mr. and Mrs. Ritts had taken good care of me for the past few years. In addition to the salary I was paid, they'd also given me free board in their cozy little guesthouse. It wasn't a bad arrangement for a twenty-five-year-old like me who hadn't even gone to college.
The view to my right was the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge, standing high above the clouds in all her deep orange-colored glory. Straight ahead of me was miles and miles of endless blue ocean, as far and wide as the eyes could see. And just below, to my left, a paved path led down the sandy hillside to China Beach, a quiet little spot where I liked to go for long walks.
After finishing my drink, I changed out of my bathrobe into a neatly pressed pair of grey tweed slacks and a white button-up shirt. Evenings were bitingly cold by the bay, even during the summertime, so I slid on my long black wool overcoat. I felt like something was missing so I topped my blond hair with a matching fedora and tucked a red feather in the ribbon.
I was a bit overdressed, but I enjoyed looking nice in my personal time since I was often covered in fish guts and sea sludge during the daytime.
The nights belonged to me, and since it was Friday, that meant I'd be making my weekly trip to a little place called The Pacific Health Club & Spa for Men. The name was a mouthful to say, much less remember. Men who were 'in the know' simply called it The Pacific. It was a mile walk south, past the affluent homes of Sea Cliff and over to the bustling strips of restaurants and shops on Geary Boulevard.
The Pacific was a bathhouse, but on the record, it was touted as a private gymnasium for men. It was the only gym I'd ever seen that barricaded its windows with heavy drapes. A small, almost invisible black placard sign on the front door was the only indicator of the name.
Every step of my twenty-minute stroll to the 'gym' seemed to amplify the tingling of my sensitive cock as it rubbed against the soft cotton of my boxer shorts. It had been a week since I'd last shot my load and I felt like a shaken bottle of champagne ready to be uncorked. I liked to let my anticipation build so my one night of splendor would be extra special.
When I arrived at the bathhouse, I greeted Jimmy, the owner, on the way in the front door and dropped two quarters on the counter. He tried to slide them back to me but I insisted on paying. After all, I wanted to help support his business so he could keep it open.
Jimmy never wanted me to pay for admission, but I felt it was only fair. I was a working man, just like any other, and I wasn't looking for any hand-outs. He liked to say that waiving my entrance fee was his way of giving thanks for my help on sprucing up the place. But I enjoyed helping him make it nicer. He was always open to my suggestions.
Past the linoleum-floored foyer was a small room with your basic equipment: a bench for lifting weights, a worn and torn punching bag that looked like it had finally given up the fight, and a few jump ropes that were unraveling at the seams. In the two years that I'd been visiting The Pacific, I'd never once seen a man using the makeshift gym. It was beyond the main entryway and around the corner where the magic really happened.
There was a large hall of open showers, ten heads on each side, lined in turquoise blue ceramic tiles. The tile was new, installed that past spring. I'd helped Jimmy pick out the tile color when he replaced the old, cracked white ones.
I greeted some familiar faces as I made my way to the locker area and undressed for the showers. It would be my third time bathing that day. I'd showered once in the morning after my jog, then again after work to prepare for my night out. That one was my deep cleanse, where I made sure everything was up to code. My third shower, the one I took at The Pacific, was merely for entertainment. Soaping up and standing naked under the water was part of a social ritual. Peacocking, as I once heard someone call it. Besides, good hygiene was really important to me.
Speaking of birds who liked to show off, the cock of the walk was making himself known as he strutted into the showers. Brown-haired, blue-eyed Leonard Sutton. We called him Lenny.
Lenny was a handsome fella, kind of full of himself, but he kept the place interesting with his boisterous attitude. He also enjoyed a good prank.
If somebody was new, he'd initiate them by chucking their clothes into the jacuzzi. Sometimes he'd snatch their garments and hide the pile in someone else's locker. That was a trick he liked to play on shy guys who seemed quiet or nervous. Lenny claimed it was good for morale because it forced his unsuspecting victims to go around chatting with other men as they searched for their clothes. A stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet.
Lenny grabbed a clean towel, twirled it and then let it snap against my bottom. He always greeted me that way. It didn't hurt, but I always feigned surprise. We both laughed as he wrapped his arms around me in a friendly embrace. Our naked bodies pressed together and he made a show of rubbing our cocks together.
I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. "Hey there, Lenny, good to see you."
"Good to be seen, Charles," he said, sniffing a little at my neck. "How's it hanging tonight?"
"You tell me."
Lenny took my hardening cock into his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "Not bad at all."
That was as far as it would go and I knew it. He bit his lower lip and made a gruff sound that reminded me of a bulldog in heat before taking a spot at the shower across from me.
We'd always had a strange, playful energy between us that never moved on to the next level. I sometimes thought that Lenny got more enjoyment out of flirting and rubbing up against guys than he did from actual sex. It was rare that I heard about or saw him make a connection with someone else.
There were a lot of psychological barriers when it came to sex with other men. Lenny's style of touchy, grabby stuff could be written off as general banter that was common
in the bathhouse. Being alone with someone in a private room required a little more vulnerability.
I took my time soaping up my long and lean body as the water washed over me. I wasn't stacked but I kept in good shape. My arms were toned, my abs were tight. My chest was firm and mostly smooth except for a tangle of curls in the middle of my pecs.
Most of the other guys in the showers were regulars; several I'd had some flings with. We greeted each other with knowing nods.
When I was finished rinsing off, I grabbed a towel and secured it around my waist, then headed out to enjoy the evening. Lenny was right behind me, drying off and walking toward the doors that led out back.
Past the showers was an open-air deck with a heated jacuzzi and plenty of seating. Ivy-wrapped trellises surrounded the parameter for added privacy and three fire pits provided a warm, cozy atmosphere.
Lenny chucked off his towel and dunked himself into the hot tub, sending waves that splattered other men who were trying to enjoy conversations. Lenny was oblivious to his disruption.
I had a more subtle approach. After casually flashing open my towel and draping it along the edge of the tub, I slowly lowered myself into the bubbly water, pretending to be adjusting to the warmth.
"Hey, Charles, don't be a wimp," Lenny said, flicking water into my face. "It's not that hot."
"Thanks for that observation," I commented dryly. While the water wasn't too hot, I was boiling over with sexual energy and Lenny was cramping my style.
"You see anything on the menu that looks good tonight?" he asked.
I surveyed the men standing around on the patio chatting in their white cotton uniforms. That's when a handsome stranger caught my eye.
He'd just strutted out the door alone. Quiet, confident, assessing his surroundings like a stealth spy. He had dark skin and black hair that was cut tight in a buzzcut. A silver set of dog tags hung from his neck. "Maybe that guy," I said, giving a nod in the stranger's direction.
Lenny giggled louder than he should have at an answer that wasn't even supposed to be funny. It was all part of his nervous exuberance.
The stranger took notice and turned his steely gaze right toward us with curiosity. The flickering light from the fire pit illuminated the soft brown in his eyes.
"Be cool," I whispered through clenched teeth, locked in a smile hoping the stranger wouldn't know we were talking about him.
Lenny turned his back to the guy and whispered to me, "He's really cute. Why do you think he has that necklace on?"
"Those are dog tags. He must be in the military."
"Ooh, a soldier. I wonder what kind of weaponry he's packing under that towel." Lenny hopped out of the tub and began to dry off. The soldier was eyeing us both, probably wondering what was going on as Lenny strolled over to him.
"Lenny, what are you doing?" I whispered.
But I was too late. Lenny was off on his mission.
He flashed a goofy smile at the soldier and the soldier smiled back awkwardly.
I knew something embarrassing was about to happen and all I could do was watch as it unfolded.
With the flick of his wrist, Lenny swiped the towel from the soldier's waist and ran inside, leaving the poor fella standing there naked and exposed in the middle of the patio. A group of men standing nearby snickered as the soldier clutched his jewels to maintain what little modesty he had left.
He took off after Lenny with an angry scowl on his face. At that moment I knew my friend had finally picked the wrong person to prank.
I grabbed my towel and darted after them, hoping to save Lenny from getting popped in the kisser. I tailed the soldier down the hallway over to the changing area just as he'd caught up to Lenny and cornered him against a row of lockers.
The soldier's voice boomed, "What the hell's the matter with you?" He snapped his towel back from Lenny's hands and wound up his fist.
"Wait a minute!" I called out, trying to wedge myself between them. "Lenny was just messing around with you."
The soldier sneered. "Messing with me will earn you a knuckle sandwich."
"I'm really sorry," Lenny said shakily.
"Let's just go somewhere and talk," I said, wrapping my arm around the soldier's shoulders. His skin was hot and inflamed with bulging veins.
He gave me a sidelong glance, and I thought maybe it was a mistake to touch him, but surprisingly he nodded. "Fine. Lead the way."
I took him down the hall to the furthest room at the end. It was a 'recovery suite,' as Jimmy called it. Because The Pacific was technically a health club, he couldn't refer to the suites as bedrooms.
The soldier sat down on the full-sized bed, trying to get comfortable on the thin mattress that was worn down to the springs. His chest was still heaving, but he seemed a little calmer, or at least less likely to murder someone. "Alright, I'm here. What do you want to say?"
I peeked out at the hallway where Lenny watched with a mixed expression of concern and curiosity. It was clear he was pretty rattled by being chased down.
"Are we talking or not?" the soldier grumbled.
"Yes." I closed the door behind me and turned the lock into place.
Chapter 2
Walking over to the side of the bed, I appraised the way the soldier's tight body curved with peaks and valleys. "What's your name, anyway?"
He studied me with skepticism. "Ricky."
"Ricky, my name's Charles. I think you got off to a bad start with Lenny and me."
"Why am I the one who got off to a bad start?" Ricky's jaw clenched tight. I was a little bit scared, but a little bit turned on too. He had such an alpha-male presence about him.
I held my hands up, trying to make peace. "Sorry, that came out wrong."
He forged on with his questioning. "Why were you and that knucklehead staring at me and laughing?"
"To be fair, Lenny was the only one laughing. I told him you were attractive."
The soldier raised an eyebrow. "And he thought it was funny that you found me attractive?"
I carried a rickety fold-up chair next to the bed and set it in place. My knee grazed against Ricky's skin, sending a tingle through my body. "No, it wasn't funny. Lenny was just goofing around. It's how he is. He laughs when he doesn't know what else to do with himself."
"Uh-huh."
I wasn't used to working so hard to convince a guy I liked him. "Why did you think Lenny was laughing at you?"
Ricky shot me a look as if the answer were obvious. "Because I'm a black man."
"Oh, I get the picture now." It hadn't occurred to me that he might think we were laughing at the color of his skin. The post-World War II era had brought many different ethnicities to San Francisco. I was so used to the diversity of the city, and the openness of the bathhouse, I hadn't considered what life must be like for a person of color. "Well look, Ricky, I can assure you we weren't making fun of you. Are you new to the area?"
"I've been here a few months," he said evenly.
"Okay. Well, maybe I could show you around sometime."
Ricky scoffed. "A lily white man like you walking around the streets with a dark-skinned guy like me? People would think I'm your chauffeur."
"That's not likely."
"Why not?"
"If anything," I explained, "people would think I'm your chauffeur. I make a living as a fisherman. That's not a job that usually comes with a chauffeur."
"People don't know you're a fisherman just by looking at you," Ricky said. "You can hide your job but I can't hide my skin color."
I cautiously put my hand on Ricky's knee. "You're making up assumptions. It's not like that here."
He pulled away. "I don't need you to tell me what it's like here or anywhere."
I nodded. "You're right." My skin is the color of porcelain with a swath of freckles that covers me like splattered paint. Aside from the occasional joke about how I look like a ghost, I'd never experienced true ridicule or discrimination for my skin tone. There was no comparison.
R
icky seemed to be tensing up again. His body looked stiff. He cracked his knuckles. I wasn't sure if that was a warning.
"Look, I've caused enough trouble for one night." I stood and dragged my chair back over to the wall. "Sorry again for any embarrassment Lenny and I caused you. We didn't mean anything by it. I just thought you were really handsome and hoped things might go differently. As far as Lenny grabbing the towel off you, I know that's not okay and I think he's learned his lesson. I'll chat with him about it just to make sure he understands."
As I turned toward the door, Ricky said, "Wait."
"Yes?"
A smile was pulling at the soldier's heart-shaped pillow lips. "You really think I'm handsome?"
"Hell, yes. I was lusting after you from the moment I laid eyes on you."
Ricky graced me with a dazzling grin that made me weak. His shoulders seemed to relax as he said, "You're pretty easy on the eyes too."
Maybe I had a chance with this sexy soldier after all. "Why don't I come over there to the bed and let you take a seat on my lap so I can enjoy the view?"
"Oh, so you want to fuck me?" he asked.
"I wouldn't be so brazen about it, but yeah, that's kinda the idea."
"Uh-huh." He tilted his head thoughtfully as if considering my offer. "Well, I have something else in mind."
I returned to his side and leaned in with a dopey grin painted across my face. "Oh, yeah?"
Just as I was about to sit down, he stood and slid past me. "Wait on the bed. I'll be right back."
Ricky opened the door to find Lenny leaned against the wood panel, trying to eavesdrop. The soldier pumped his chest and pretended to lunge for my nosy friend. Lenny squealed and took off running.
I snickered as I watched with anticipation, wondering what this mystery man was up to.
The soldier returned a minute later with a bundle of white rope wrapped around his hand. "During training, I was taught how to tie rope and knot it really well. I also had to learn how to escape from it."